The War Chronicles of a Little Demon (Youjo Senki alt)

"Snippet" 2: Prelude to Invasion. AKA: The City was on Fire and it was not my Fault
In the spirit of:

1) Succubus Dresden's who are loosely tied to their parent Succubus Tanya Story (seriously read WrandmWaffles 's Story Ragged Angel)



2) And well it is April Fools, so why not give a "trick" that's more content, if related.





This takes place just before the first Side Story and showed events leading up to the "invasion"



(If succubus Dresden isn't your cup of tea, I mean this is a Tanya fic... don't worry I also plan to post a snippet of ch12 of Little Demon as well)







+++++



"Chicago was on fire, and it wasn't my fault"

-Halley BlackStone Copperfield Dresden



My tail curled as I looked over the bloodied, battered body of my half brother Thomas.



He was being supported by Lara, one of his sisters on his father's side.



We had rescued him from being imprisoned in the dungeon of the mini castle that was the Better Future Society. Dungeon my frosty butt, it was the remains of my old sub basement lab.



Still... we had got him out, and under the nose of the Accorded Nations. Including the Svartalves who had... beaten him halfway to death. I flexed my hands and managed to keep my claws from sliding out. My brother had attacked the Svartalves under a diplomatic truce in their embassy had almost killed Etri the leader of their mission.



Looking around the exercise room I confirmed that it was all grayed out from the potion I had had us drink, except for the very interesting illusion in the center of a boxing ring. I might have lingered on that a bit longer than I should have. But I had to make sure no one had spotted us.



I had considered Etri a... friend. And Thomas had killed one of Etri's guards, a man I had known. Our kids had played together.



And Thomas had killed him and tried to kill more. And in response the Svartalves had demanded their form of justice. They had not beat him out of cruelty, that would come later, but as a way to reduced him as a threat, to keep his Hunger focused on his wounds.



Someone had forced my brother to do this. Instead of coming to me he tried a suicidal run at a supernatural nation at the seat of their power.



And I didn't know why.



Lara gave me an opaque look. "What next demoness?" she quietly asked with an arch tone.



My horns tingled, even with the spell insulating us from everyone's notice, I could still feel all the people at the Peace Talks, including my Family. They were people who could help, but... "His Hunger's killing him isn't it?"



The Queen of the White Court of Vampires nodded, her blue-black hair shaking. "It's something that can happen to any of us, if we get too hurt, too damaged... and we don't feed then the demon bonded to our soul will start eating us." Her pale features softened. Lara was a monster, a polite and organized monster, given she was able to run the snake-pit that was the White Court, but she did care about her family.



And even after going to a literal succubus city, the capital of a demonic empire, she was still one of the most dangerously beautiful people I knew.



"It's not too late," I stated.



"Dresden, I have seen this before," her voice was sad. "When I used a Favor to get you to help me I had hoped..."



"He's still alive. It's not too late," I growled.





As he held our brother, Lara's gaze slipped to the reception room. Some of her sisters were there representing the White Court. I got the impression that she would have preferred to have a less ostentatious display, for one her puppet Father, the official if figurehead King was not present.



But across from the white silken and silver banners and rich leather lounging couches were the carved dark hardwood furniture and ebony and silver banners of House BlackSky.



Complete with a tasteful if severe group of Alpinum Guard, a collection of Daughters, and BlackSky herself.



BlackSky as tall and elegant in her gold and ruby trimmed ebony gown. Obsidian curls tumbled down her back as vast sweeping horns curled from her forehead. Her tail swishing, she bore the casual confidence in her power that had been there every time I met her.



This was the Imperatrix of one of the dominant Great Houses on her world. One who had invaded and conquered worlds who had Legions and Fleets at her command, but was standing in a small castle in the middle of Chicago chatting with other leaders.



If not for a literal dragon and Norse god were also in attendance. It would be a bit much. Ferrovax seemed to take the whole Peace Talks with a distant amusement. Though the dragon had a few polite, if stiff, words with my Grandmother. There was some old history here.



Vadderung, CEO of Monoc Securities, and other positions, was more friendly with my Grandmother. Which was expected, he was one of the Accorded Nations who had signed off on House BlackSky joining.



The Winter Court of Fae and the Svartalfheim being the other two powers.



Which made the Chancellor of the White Court, Lara, the Winter Knight, White Council Wizard, and an Imperial Silvan Princess, all me alas, breaking a rightful prisoner who had wronged Svartalfheim out of custody...



Problematic.



I knew Mab and the Council would throw me to the wolves if I were caught. But for different reasons. The Council had been looking for a reason to fully kick me out for years, what with the whole Warlock fears, then the working for Mab, and turning into a demon chick. Meanwhile, Mab's feeling was any Knight who was unskilled to get caught doing such a thing was hardly worthy of her service.



BlackSky? Well.. that was the question. I knew she was not about using... reconnaissance troops. Mira was also very inquisitive and loved reading and learning about whatever place she visited.



Also, the last time my sisters came over... well my eldest sister got up to trouble with my brother looking for me: burning a warehouse down fighting necromancers and vampires. And then my middle sister Eve had been meeting with Vadderung and others.



Not to mention the maps of Mira's that I had seen. Maps with arrows and units. And lists of buildings and Landing Zones and other lists.



Grandmother had plans. She had History. And she did not join the Accords out of a whim nor without learning what she was getting into.



I was not sure what she'd do if I wrecked her diplomacy. How far into the whole "Imperial Rome Dressup" did they go?



I knew the Fomor, a united group of exiled and banished monsters that had fled under the seas and had started attacking and abducting people after some fool had destroyed the Red Court, would just love the Accords to Fall to disunity.



Mostly BlackSky was letting DawnStrike play diplomat while her other Daughters, including the two youngest: AshRain and my Mother circulated a bit.



"You want their help?" Lara sniffed.



"I mean... not now... anyway I've got a plan that can keep anyone from tracking Thomas magically that's the important thing." My gaze went back into the room. Mother could help. Yes, Thomas would be a renegade from the Accorded Nations. But Silvana was in another world. Or... if that was too obvious, Mother had other places.



But that wouldn't be Thomas' choice. Not in his condition right now.



And I got a feeling that Grandmother would be more upset with me taking that choice away from Thomas than me violating the accords by breaking him out.



"Right," Lara gave me a look. "At least the dark haired prissy big sister can charm without showing her fangs, and the younger military officer is straightforward in her evaluating everyone as a target. But arrogant flame-haired one just barely conceals her superiority."



I snorted. Her description of DawnStrike, AshRain, and CloudFire was largely correct. At least Felisia was not here she was even more of a Silvan cultural snob. I also knew that any of my Aunts could be perfectly diplomatic, so whatever attitude they were taking was done deliberately.



Not that it would take much acting on CloudFire's part. While they considered the Fae Courts to be respectful in size and having some culture, if alien, and they shared much of the fondness of beauty and craft that attracted them to Svartalfheim and vice versa.



Other Accorded Nations were... well... the White Court was powerful, in politics and culture and finance. They had fingers in many places and were information brokers. And where personally powerful and ageless alluring predators.



But they also ruled in the shadows. BlackSky ruled a nation state that bore her name. Her palace was the tallest building in her capital city. But that was the Accords. There were some signatories who were unique powerful entities like Ivy the Archive of all Mortal Knowledge, or the purely vanilla Baron Gentleman Johnny Marcone, or Vadderung who wore many hats.



Then there the polities which ranged from the Tylwyth Teg a minor, but proudly independent Fey court ruled by Gwyn ap Nudd, a nice guy who enjoyed baseball, to Svartalfheim who were larger and more powerful but mostly isolationist, then all the way up to Winter, which had the largest standing military of all the Fae powers, even larger than Summer's.



"And my mother?" I asked. "What do you think of her?"



"Young," Lara quirked her lips. "But we are out of time. Freydis' distraction will run out." She turned to the illusion of two succubae enjoying themselves in a very creative manner.



Watching the display in the ring, I exhaled and idly licked a lip as my tail swished. As distractions went Carlos was my Plan B. He was my friend; he trusted me. After tonight I'd be able to tell him what he was trusting me for.



Lara laughed. "Oh Dresden. Still Freydis is not bad, even if she overestimated your sexual prowess."



"Prowess! I'm a succubus too!"



"Only biologically." Lara shook her head. "You needed me to seduce a guard for you," she hissed, her voice dripping in shame at my incompetence.



"I had other things do to for the rescue!" I totally didn't whine as I checked that the small glass ampoule was still in my pocket. It could have fallen out or broken when we had climbed down the stone shaft to rescue my brother. And that would have ruined all the work in getting its twin into place.



Lara rolled her eyes. "Come on."



I nodded and the three of us went out of the exercise room and to a corridor, it would take us past the great hall where the Peace Talks were being conduced. And a lot of the Accorded Nations were there.



Powerful beings. Ones that might see through the "Ignore Us" potion I had us drink.



Which was why I had a backup plan. I crushed the ampoule in my hand. The fluid had a slight magical charge and was connected to the fluid that had been in the first ampoule. Fluid that was now on the grey cloak of Warden Ramirez.



Exhaling I made a fist, and gave two sharp, but short tugs.



Over in the cluster of Wardens guarding the Senior Council members Commander Ramirez looked around. He had felt the ghostly tugs on his cloak.



We only had time to setup a simple code. One pull meant failure. Two pulls meant success and he could proceed as planned. Three pulls meant we needed more... active help.



I could almost feel his tension as he tried not to grit his teeth, but he still favored his good leg. We had gone over what I wanted to do we needed a bigger distraction. Five beats after the signal I would use the thaumaturgical link to his cloak in a more... kinetic way.



Carlos trusted me. He was my friend. He knew I was keeping secrets form him, more since my change... my changes. But I had made the effort to get more... open, at least with the things I could. Especially, after we "ran into" each other in New Zeeland, and afterwards I had warned him about the possible Jade Court cells all over North America.



Despite all that, I had lied to him.



I jerked my hand after three beats, not five.



Carlos was a good actor, but not perfect; he had already started to anticipate. But now his surprise was genuine when his cloak went down and tugged far tot he left before trying to wrap around his face and drag him off to the wall. His legs kicked and he swore in Spanish as he tried to get an arm up to stop the treacherous grey cloak.



And that's when all my plans where shattered.



The Fomor had arrived.



+++++++



Lara had taken out brother out but I had to see. This was... I had to know how bad things were going to go.



King Corb, his retinue, and a giant cloaked figure strode into the hall. There was a slight smell of rot to him, above and beyond the damp fishy malodor common to the Fomor



Ramirez had recovered and stood with the wardens protecting the Senior Council. There was a guarded expression of dread on Ebenezar's face. Mab and Molly stood with the Redcap and four other Sidhe. Mother and her sisters had fanned around BlackSky.



My grandmother's poker face was more reserved than my grandfather's but she was up there with Ferrovax and Vadderung on the kind of blank-faced concern that was worrying.



Corb and his Fomor and human flunkies seemed to relish the silence.



BlackSky caught Mab's eye and my grandmother's tail curved ever so slightly.



What she was about to do next was interrupted by Corb striding forward, chains rattling, and contemptuously lobbed a small item.



It was the smell of rot. It was a small decaying severed head. Its age was hard to tell, it was waterlogged and depending on where it was stored the putrefaction could have been accelerated or retarded.



It was the King of the Tylwyth Teg, Gwyn ap Nudd, a sovereign of one of the larger Faerie subnations. I could like to call him a friend. At least we had done business, and he still sent me Cubs tickets once in a while. The Billy Goat curse was his doing. After my... change we had met a bit more. The Tylwyth Teg were one of the nations that seemed open to House BlackSky.



Nowhere near the level of Winter or Svartalfheim but they were less... skeptical than the White Council. But from what I had heard the tentative negotiations had trailed off.



Shock went through the room.



Even Vadderung looked like this was, if not wholly unexpected, then an unpleasant development.



Except... BlackSky's gaze swept the room and fell upon me. It was a brief instant but I got the feeling of negation, of patience. Well, at least my magic potion had me beneath most people's notice.



Her Daughters were still tense but there was almost a release.



I thought to the notes and maps that on reflection, Mira had left for me to find. Maybe she learned that trick from Thomas. My stomach clenched, recalling the maps of the city, my city covered in arrows and little boxes in blue and red.



And there Mira was in her prim black skirt, jacket and bustier, at BlackSky's side, being an unobtrusive aide. She was too professional to even give me a glance, but I knew she could sense me. It was hard to hide from a psion of her power.



They expected a betrayal.



Okay, the rulers Accorded Nations were not naive. They knew the Fomor could not be trusted, but they were also part of the system. They prepared for betrayal, but still thought in terms of their game.



Even the war with the Red Court took a while for the Council to realize that the Reds were not playing by the rules of war.



But even the Reds were not this proactive. This particular incarnation of the Accords may be new, but the UnSeelie Accords were built on centuries and centuries of tradition. Many of which, like the rules of hospitality: such as not murdering the host's bondsmen or presenting the severed head of a severing signatory predated the accords and were woven into the whole culture of how these supernatural nations interacted with each other.



But House BlackSky was not part of that tradition. Oh, Homeplane demons had their own rules on guest-right, but...



And I realized what Corb was going to do, what buttons he had to press on Mab. How he was going to get under her skin.



My Mother's expression was utterly calm, but she had edged closer to AshRain. The next youngest Daughter. The Legatus.



Her eyes black, Mab stared at the head.



BlackSky did not move from her position, but I could tell she was trying to will the Queen of Air and Darkness to... to at least notice the as-yet silent cloaked figure.



The room plummeted in temperature, ice formed on every metallic surface and started to rime the floor. Except for the areas around Ferrovax and the demons. I had to concentrate on my own spell to keep myself from being noticed.



But I was the Winter Knight, I was a demon comfortable with ice.



Mab's hair and gown swirled with darkness until they turned ebony, almost as dark and glossy as BlackSky's "Explain yourself," her whisper carrying in the hall.



The Fomor swaggered a step closer. He sneered, his bulging eyes mocking, ever movement coldly mocking. His velvety, malevolent voice started. "A peace gi-"



"A declaration of war," BlackSky interrupted.



The room became dead silent in that. The attendees were no fools, they knew the rules were being broken tonight, but they still had some hope that the grandstanding was...



Empty Night, even I had hope. But... I was starting to see why my Family had a reputation for bellicosity.



Hatred boiled off of him, but Korb renewed his sneer. "Ah, the whore speaks."



"Coyness does not suit you." BlackSky's tone was light but her dark eyes narrowed. She looked up to the cloaked figure. "Or shall we continue the charade that the murder of the guard outside and presenting a severed head is not some prelude to a greater conflict."



Mab spared a tiny glare at her. It was a bare fraction, orders of magnitude lower, than the hatred she had for Corb, but it was still enough to cause me to clench up as my tail curled up.



The demon empress smiled. "Perhaps you will order further murders. That's how this goes, right?" She turned to give Mira a questioning look.



Shrugging, the librarian adjusted her glasses.



"That is why you brought your minions into the hall?"



I noticed Korb's goons had started to tense their hands on their suppressed weapons.



"Meddlesome whore," Corb spat. "This is not your fight. This is between me and a past her prime woman."



The Fomor flicked his hand.



And everything was, briefly, kinetic.



His men moved, maybe a dozen suppressed weapons made their popping and chugging noises. A handful of the caterers and servers in the hall dropped. But as they fell all of the Fomor gunmen also dropped.



While the staff fell in cries and screams of bullet wounds, the gunmen died silently, with little gurgles. It was bit hard to tell with their turtlenecks but each looked like a hydraulic vise had grabbed them by the back of the neck and squeezed.



Hendricks' meaty hand kept Marcone from getting out of his seat while Gard stepped in front of him hand on her axe. The big redheaded bodyguard and the blonde Valkyrie were concerned with keeping their mobster boss alive.



A muffled cry of shock and horror came up from everyone, nearly everyone: guests and Fomor.



The Guests because they were guests.



Again it was House BlackSky's representatives who instead of reacting with shock and outrage had readied themselves.



The Fomor because.. they did not expect to take losses. "Who killed my men!" Corb screamed.



And I resolved never to play poker against Mira. The mild librarian aide had not sunk into the background, she was not trying to hide, she was not being unobtrusive, she simply was unobtrusive. No one noticed the admin retinue next to the demon queen.



She killed over a dozen armed men, maybe not quick enough to save all of Marcone's people, but she saved maybe two-thirds of them. And did it right under King Korb's nose.



No one noticed her. No one thought to look at her.



She was doing with mental training and body language what I was doing via magic.



Mab slowly rose. Her hair, eyes, and nails were now all a deep obsidian that went past my grandmother's look, with an even paler shin as white as the Pale Horse itself. "You dare. YOU DARE! YOU ARE A GUEST IN THIS HOUSE!"



"Read your own laws, woman," Corb sneered. "The Hirelings were no members of a house, vassals, nor lackeys. Chattel at best. Meanwhile someone murdered my lackeys." His bulging eyes scanned the room.



"Take your wereguild, little man," he absently said throwing a velvet bag to where it landed before Gard with the clink of metal. "It seems I overpaid," he gave a mocking laugh to cover his disquiet at losing minions this early.



"But before we get distracted who do I thank for such a... display?" he asked idly kicking a vertebrae-crushed minion.



The chill in the room grew as plumes of frost came out of tension-tight faces.



BlackSky's smile reveled her fangs. "Please, do lodge a complaint with the other signatories. Perhaps with the patron of these Accords."



"Leg-spreading bitch," Corb frothed as he turned to Mab. "What say you old woman? Will you let more make a mockery of your club? I remember the pimply-bawling brat who rode with the Conqueror. I remember you weeping when Merlin cast you out."



Mab...



She ignored any warning subtext from my grandmother, from Ferrovax from Vadderung.



Mab boiled with ugly, naked, absolute rage. Her body turned utterly still and rigid.



"What do you think?" Corb purred. "If he were among us, would he love you still? Would he have pride of what you've become?"



Reality seemed to twist as Mab suddenly appeared standing within an arm's length of Corb, a laser-straight line of frost between where she had been to where she was now.



Mab hissed. "Your maggot lips are not worthy to speak of his name."



"There's the true you," Corb purred "You're still alive inside all that ice. Gather power all you wish, old woman."



Mab's rigidity resumed.



"Call upon the whores if you think it helps," Corb cackled. And where is the head of the other whores?" he asked, looking over the White Court's space.



I hoped Lara was nearly at the Marina with Thomas.



BlackSky simply let her gaze pass over Corb.



"You're not offended? Maybe the name fits," he purred. "Maybe you intend to pay me back via trade.



BlackSky's smile returned. "To take offense requires you to respect the other party.



"Respect," he spat. "Then you should simply fear, whore."



"I do not fear the dog when I know how long of a chain his mistress put around his collar." BlackSky's smirk was small but present.



Corb's anger grew.



BlackSky nodded. "Ah, so you respect my opinion." She looked at the giant cloaked figure expectant.



Cord's froggy eyes stared daggers. "Is this your defender old woman? Whores, vultures and interlopers?" He returned to Mab with glee. "You know what allying with demons will do. But... should we be surprised? You know who you were, and so do I. You were a scared little mortal. You were no one. You are no one."



A very human-looking fury twisted Mab's face, and that terrified more than I'd been in a good long time. Her lips snarling, she was about to speak, but her eyes widened as her focus shifted, her gaze tracking up the chain that was around Corb.



An immense bronze and crystalline fist held Corb's chain. The cloaked figure was just as fast as Mab. One moment she was three yards beyond Corb, the next there was a thunder crack.



It was impossible to tell what happened with any sensible timeline. I think the cloaked woman kicked. Defensive energies beyond anything I could comprehend formed around Mab. The kick went through them all. With the thunder came the scream of shattering stone.



The wall behind Winter's seat had a coffin-sized ragged hole. As did the wall behind that. The Queen of Air and Darkness was nowhere to be seen, though I could just barely feel her presence.



Once more the room was stunned into silence.



Slowly, with deliberate drama, the figure peeled back her hood.



Made of bronze and crystal, the woman was beautiful beyond mortal reckoning. I had seen royals of the Red Court in their finest flesh masks, shadows of Fallen Angels at their most tempting, the glamour of fae royalty, the sharp lethal beauty of Angles of Death, the allure of the White Court and the Imperial Family of House BlackSky.



All lacked... something when compared to the woman before us. Her long slick hair was like silken silver. Her figure was of giant scale but perfect proportions.



But her eyes... Well it was one eye.



One eye was a crystalline emerald green.



The other...



Mutilating features of bronze perfection were bulging, granite-like scars around a mangled orbital. The lids were closed but they bulged as if the eye inside was considerably larger than it should be.



Energy throbbed around her. Something ancient, terrible, primal. It was something that demanded obedience, adoration, terror. It was from a time forgotten. A time when blood...



Before me was a goddess.



My breath caught, I felt rooted to my spot.



The room moaned in terror and adoration.



One of the voices was mine....



Until a warm, familiar presence cut through. I blinked.



With more clarity, I noticed Vadderung and Ferrovax had came to their feet fists clenched. Instead of glaring at each other their adamantine stares were at the woman.



The goddess' cyclopean gaze swept the room. She took in each face. The Winter Lacy got a withering look of pure contempt that came to the rest of the Accorded nations. She gave just as much distaste for House BlackSky as she gave the others.



She spoke....



If not for the help of Grandmother, with probably a bit of Mira's abilities thrown in....



Even with the protection it was a hot bath and warm soup on a cold day. It was chocolate and sex. My tail swished despite it all. Her voice promised things; it compelled; it filled the room.



"Children, children," she murmured. Her head shoot in disapproval. "The world has gone to the children."



BlackSky's grin became knowing.



The goddess looked past her to Ferrovax, cheek twitching. Her gaze then went from the dragon to Vadderung. Her teeth, white and perfect showed. "One-eye. Are you still in the Game? Does your arrogance have any limit? Look at how you've fallen. Consorting with insects, as if you were little more than mortal yourself."



No one spoke.



No one moved.



From BlackSky it was... expectant. It was hard to read her. If she was scared she was not letting it show, but the mocking expression with Corb was gone. Here, she seemed wary. But she was also watching the others, seeing who would react.



And then there were steps on the stone floor, and the demon empress gave a tiny smile.



Gentleman Johnny Marcone stepped out from the unwavering Gard, impeccable with his suit. He had to be frightened. Afterall, unlike me, he had no ancient demon giving him mental protection.



But he did not show any fear. He simply strode forward clear from his guards. He stepped around a bloodstain where one of his staff had been dragged away by the other survivors, and around the body of a Fomor gunman with his neck flopped in an unnatural angle.



"Good evening, madam. I am Baron John Marcone. This is my home. Might I have the pleasure of knowing how you with to be addressed?"



The goddess narrowed her eye. She watched him with the revulsion that came from swarms of maggots or things you found underneath rocks. She dismissed him from her attention and went to Vadderung again.



"This is your host?" her tone was demanding. "At least the half-breed demons have a spark to them. But you permit a mortal among you? What of dignity? Of pride? Has the world gone this astray?" she shook her head.



"We have failed it. And I will no longer fearfully huddle in the seas and stand by as the mortals turn it into another filthy hive."



She stared down at Marcone. Circling him, she shook her head in judgment.



My grandmother looked across the room to my grandfather. Ebenezar pulled out of his shock to give the demonic empress a dark look. Other than that no one moved.



Without looking at the dragon, she pointed to Ferrovax. "Introduce me to this ephemeral."



The silence drew on, but Ferrovax eventually spoke in ragged voice as if every word was being pulled out with a tooth. "This is Ethniu. Daughter of Balor. The last Titan."



Ethniu lowered her pointing finger. Ferrovax gasped, staggering, putting a hand on his chair to balance as he breathed heavily.



BlackSky's expression did not change, not really. But it seemed that her aloofness withdrew a fraction as she became more calculating. Her Daughters were figuratively under the protection of her wings, like chicks in a rainstorm. But they were also... distant.



They had a plan. A titan was a matter of grave concern for them but not... not unexpected.



Stars and Stones, what had they planned for? What could Four Daughters, BlackSky and a handful of guards and librarians do? Though knowing them... nothing the Titan would expect.



Ethniu continued, addressing the room. "Manifestly, this world has failed. You thought banding together was wise? To live quietly. To embrace--" her lip sneered-- "civility. And with the mortals that used to tremble at the tread of our feet?



I would have trembled pretty hard right now. I didn't know if I could make a voluntary motion. I was not sure which was worse, that my grandmother's grace would keep me from doing something... rash, or that she would let me.



Ethniu began to pace slowly. "I have stood by doing nothing for too much of my life. I have watched holy place after holy place fall to the mortals. Forrest after Forest. Sea after Sea. They dare to walk where they were never meant to walk. As they do, the divine retreats, withers dies."



I got the mental sense of, BlackSky's head tilted slightly at that first bit. As if that part of Ethniu's history was "useful intelligence".



That emerald eye fell upon me. It was like a mouse being studied by a tank. Immense weight pressed upon me, studied me, then dismissed me in a moment.



"The mortals grow more numerous, more petty, more vicious, all while fouling the world we helped created. Their filth, their buildings, their machines."



BlackSky took in those last two points with the quiet satisfaction of someone doing a jigsaw having two corner pieces fall into her lap.



Ethniu stopped by King Corb, almost fondly like to a pet, she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Tonight. This ends."



"Does it? Or is it merely the beginning of the end?" BlackSky's question sounded earnest.



Ethniu turned to her emerald gaze transfixing her.



"It's a logistical question. Do you plan to burn the entire world, setting back billions of scrabbling, squirming to a more tractable state?" the demon's smile was all fangs. "Or, do you plan to sow fear and hatred. Bring the mortals low on critical locations to start a conflagration that will have them tear their own hearts out."



BlackSky took a couple steps forward to stand near Marcone, her wings and black gown trailing behind her. "Far be it my place to intrude on someone else's apocalyptic rapture."



Ethniu seemed momentarily taken aback.



"Even with the most powerful of weapons... the strongest host," BlackSky gave her smile to King Corb. "Killing that many mortals. Even if they are cowed and prostate. Well.. eventually, your minions' sword arms will get tired."



Various emotions played against the Titan's face, Ethniu decided to go with disdain. "You mock me half-breed? I know your kind, you refugees from the pit."



BlackSky gave Marcone a small shrug. "It seems her plan has already addressed such issues." And I got the feeling that now BlackSky had all four corner pieces.



"So you say," the mobster deadpanned.



BlackSky was a tall woman, but Ethniu loomed over her. "You saw what I did to the cold queen, little demon."



BlackSky gave a genuine sigh. "I saw a tantrum, a loss of face at breaking the rules."



Ethniu sneered. "Yes she does like to think she's in control. This is not your fight half-breed."



BlackSky looked at the other Signatories. "This is not my world. Shall you burn it?"



Ethniu nodded. "And I have no interest in your petty domain. You, however, are too late. You will not pick over these wasted shadows. They are mine."



Giving that same sharp smile, BlackSky stepped back to her Daughters.



"Yes, flee back to your little home," Ethniu chuckled.



Corb roiled with indignant range.



"Give them no mind," the Titan assured him. "The half-breed tries to mask her fear glib sycophancy."



Dismissing the demons from her mind, she strode to Vadderung and dropped to one knee, so she could speak eye to eye. "I remember what you were. I respect you, because of that I assume you see some redeeming value among these..." her hand encompassed the room. "Children. Given that respect, I offer you something I was never given: a choice."



I was not sure what the puzzle my grandmother was making but she seemed nearly finished with it.



The Titan looked around the room. "I offer it to all the divine here.... and the infernal, if I must. Tonight, at the witching hour, we who you thought defeated, banished, fallen, humbled... we will march upon the mortal world-- starting wit this fetid hive around us."



Her smile was glories and terrible. "Finally."



BlackSky blinked and made the smallest motion of her chin and tail. It looked like even she was surprised by what the completed jigsaw puzzle looked like. AshRain and DawnStrike also gave tiny motions. Those had to be deliberate tells. Or else Ethniu's statement was so out of line that even their composure cracked.



I studied my aunts, my Mother. They were silent and tense, and fear came off them, but I could feel more... there was a.... disbelieving... relaxation.



BlackSky said it at the start, this was a declaration of war. She expected a fight here and now. That the Fomor would strike this castle in force.



Immediately.



Not... in about four hours.



I thought back to the maps full of arrows and the charts with their neat rows of blandly stated destruction. Time... the Titan was giving them... time.



The demon's reaction was ignored. Vadderung was speaking. His voice was raspy as if it took great effort but his tone was strong.



"Ethniu. Do not do this. You have no idea."



Something much like pity crossed the Titan's face. "I remember that you were once great," her voice was quiet. "For the being I remember, I owe you this one chance: Do not interfere. My quarrel is with the mortals. Stand aside, there need be no conflict between us."



She gestured to the hole behind the high seat. "That creature cannot protect you. She cannot enforce her justice. Each of the divine must choose: abandon the mortal world-- or burn with it."



I swore under my breath. Why did grandmother have to be right? Why did it have to be burning?



Ethniu's closed eye quivered. Suddenly there was light behind the scarred eyelid. Red, pulsing through the thin skin. She leaned back her head, took a breath, and opened the Eye, screaming.



The scream deafened me. I had an instant to curse my demonic hearing, but it was far, far more painful than just that. The scream pressed into my mind. It was emotion so violent and intense that to let a piece into my mind would shatter my sanity.



Light burst from the Titan, lashing out and through the ceiling. Whatever it touched rotted and flaked away, fabric decaying and the edges bursting to flame. Previously unseen runes and sigils carved into the stones of the castle throbbed with a blue glow.



A castle's worth of magical defenses stood against the power of a goddess.



They failed.



Stone became dust. The energy from the Eye exploded upward through the ceiling, and the floors above, before blasting through the roof into the summer night. Magical energy came out in a wave of such power and intensity that it had seemed impossible.



Even when compared to the works of the Merlin on Demonreach, the cold, disturbing artifice of Serenity the First, the channeled power of BlackSky. This.... this was more than all of those.



More than anything else when Ethniu released the Eye was when things started to change. Both in her actions and those taken in response.



Magic was rampant, it howled over the streets of Chicago. It was a typhoon of raw power. And everywhere it touched... the mortal world sank into darkness.



Power systems failed. Transformers exploded. Electronics screamed and died. Demonic... well infernal... images and sounds screamed out of devices before they failed. Trains went powerless, cars sputtered and slammed into each other by the thousands.



Planes... O'Hare was one of the busiest airports in the country. Several passenger jets landing or taking off fell out of the sky, their engines out, their control surfaces dead.



The city was consumed by total darkness.



It was a miracle that my potion was still active, though that magic was inside me...



I was on my knees making pained sounds.



I was not alone.



The room was light by firelight. So we could still see.



The last Titan, and King Corb were gone.



I looked over and saw Vadderung as he fell heavily back onto his chair. He looked stunned. There was something... foreboding but... something else to his expression. I followed his gaze...



BlackSky was helping Marcone to his feed. My grandmother gave Gard a respectful smile and evaluated her Daughters, aides and guards.



Seeing they were all getting back up, BlackSky nodded.



There was a moment that stretched out. She was their Empress. They would follow her whatever her order. If she decided to take Ethniu's offer and leave this world to its fate, they would, though Mother would probably protest and request to stay at my side.



If BlackSky decided... well whatever the other option was...



"Dawn, can you do it?"



DawnStrike gave a thin smile. "Yes, it would be my pleasure."



"Go, light the Beacon."



The dark-haired Daughter bowed her head and strode out of the hall before anyone else could speak.



I turned back to Vadderung. He was stunned, he was shocked, but there was resolution there.



+++++++++++++





For half a minute the hall was silent after my aunt quietly left.



Gentleman Johnny Marcone took in the room. "It would seem that Imperatrix BlackSky is correct. The Fomor declare war."



Ebenezar was up after the Mobster and the demons. "Is anyone hurt?"



"Not from this. My men took out their wounded before..." Marcone shook his head. He offered a hand to Molly, the Winter Lady.



She glowered but took it. He suggested she attend Mab, and they briefly talked about what was on the other side of the wall the Titan had kicked Mab through.... and the wall beyond that.



Together, Etri and his sister stood up. Voices raised in confusion and anxiety. As everyone began to recover, everyone realized how bad the situation was and the tension grew.



Except for River Shoulders. The giant sasquatch watched us all with a distant expression. He was not good with crowds and his sensitivity must have made this a special nightmare to him, but he bore it with stoicism.



And House BlackSky. That side of my family had formed into a loose huddle and were having a conversation that had few words and was mostly quick gestures and expressions. Given Mira's presence I wondered how much of it was telepathic.



Carter LaChaise and his ghouls got up and headed towards the exit.



Marcone confronted them as they tried to leave.



His tone was bored and reasonable. He did not accuse LaChaise of cowardice, merely inquired, and then blandly reminded of the mutual defense stipulations in the Unseelie Accords.



"Mab was the Accords. If the Titan can swat her aside, what chance to any of us have?" He looked around the room for support. "Do you think you can stand up to Ethniu and Corb? You can throw your short life away if that is your desire, mortal. The rest of us were doing business long before these recent Accords, we can do so again. Tread carefully mortal, for the accusations you make, unless you would want your own entrails to be used as sausage links."



He gave a crocodilian grin. "Besides, all of us signed out of fear to Mab."



"Not all of us, ghoul," BlackSky stated stepping up to a pace behind Marcone. "And based on actions you take I will happily declare you a coward. And we shall see who makes sausage out of the other."



LaChaise quivered with rage. "The newcomers," he spat. "This isn't your fight."



"Apparently, it's not yours either. I have no use for undisciplined cannibalistic rabble."



Twisting to face both of them, Marcone's voice cracked out. "You are guests, Sir, Madame. In my house."



BlackSky bowed her head. LaChaise was held rigid in place. He turned to see the rest of the leadership of the Accorded Nations starting at him.



"Baron Marcone is correct," Etri of the Svartalves said. "We are all signatories, we are all obligated to come to Mab's defense."



LaChaise worked his extended jaw. His voice hissed and snarled from that. "Your people bleed from a mere White Court Assassin. Do you think you can challenge a Titan?"



Etri looked at the ghoul as if he were simple. "Not alone." He nodded firmly to Marcone. "Svartalfheim does not make commitments lightly. We shall stand in defense of the city."



As Marcone returned the nod, I noticed that BlackSky had slipped back to her group.



"Fools" LaChaise sighed. "This is hopeless. The enemy has given free rein to prepare. We have mere hours to assemble our own forces."



This time I could see the look of disbelief on BlackSky's face. I was reminded of a lesson about fighting Warlocks I tried to teach new Wardens... well back when they let me teach new Wardens. If you gave a Practitioner, any Practitioner, but especially the more powerful and experienced ones, time to prepare, they became at least an order of magnitude more dangerous.



The ghoul continued. "Assuming there is no spoiling attack. Do you think Corb means to fight fair?"



"Obviously not." Marcone shared a look with BlackSky. "That makes me consider that he is not invincible-- otherwise why not simply attack? And avoid all of this.... drama. He is attempting to divide us, make us easier to defeat one at a time. Defeat in detail as you would say Legate?" he asked AshRain.



My aunt nodded to him with a thin smile.



"And the Titan? Do you know what it is that she was wearing?" the ghoul demanded.



"Titanic bronze," Etri noted. "An alloy beyond the skill of even my people. A secret only known to the Hundred-Handed Ones."



The small grey-alien-like man paused before explaining. "Mere physical force will never stop her. The most puissant of power stand any chance of doing more than annoying her."



"A problem to be overcome," Marcone looked to Cristos. "Perhaps our clever friends of the White Council have a solution."



The oily but stentorian wizard Cristos looked to Ebenezar. The two of them exchanged looks with the other Senior council members.



As they had a brief conference BlackSky summoned my mother and the two came over to Marcone and Etri. "My daughter BloodMist has a unique set of skills that may proof useful. She is educated and experiences with energy resistant materials of both mortal and arcane manufacture."



Etri looked the pink-haired demoness over.



"Mother has a wide variety of assets that we can call upon, perhaps something could mitigate this alloy's protections," BloodMist, my mother, offered. "Or perhaps bypass it, like a tank shell that kills the crew without piercing the armor."



"I doubt we could hurt the titan by making the inside surface of her amour spall off and turn to shrapnel." Etri chuckled but he looked thoughtful.



"I'll need to know some estimates as to what damage and attacks it can take. Any information on density and thickness, of the crystalline structure of the metal. Of what enchantments and if there was any alchemy in the manufacture," Mother's voice was eager. This was her element, and a material as adamantine as Titanic-bronze had to fascinate her.



"I can provide some of that, but much of what we know is myth and conjecture," Etri admitted, sharing a bit of her enthusiasm, one crafter to another.



Wizard Listens-to-Wind had gotten up from the huddle and came over. He nodded to BloodMist. "We have some ideas. And welcome help in overcoming her protections. regardless, we stand with you and will bring a compliment of Wardens to the city's defense."



"They have ideas," LaChaise scoffed. "The wizards and the demons have ideas." He looked at the rest of the room. "What does this city, what do these mortals, mean to you? I say let the Fomor spend their strength on the mortals."



"Idiot," Ferrovax snapped. A plume of thick volcanic-smelling smoke plumed out his nostrils. "You know the mortals. Once they are awakened, frightened, angers... they will lash out at any supernatural threat they can find. And remember, LaChaise, you do not have the luxury of dwelling beneath an ocean the mortals have barely explored. Or living on another plane of existence," he said to BlackSky and the Fae Courts.





"The wurm is right," Vadderung exchanged a nod with Ferrovax. "We must stop Ethniu here and now. If a mortal city this size is sacked, there will be no way to contain their rage."



BlackSky gave him a look as if to say, "Nor should they." At that moment, DawnStrike returned to the hall and gave a curt nod to her mother.



Vadderung exhaled. "Foolish and blind as they are, they are many, and full of the courage of ignorance. Business as usual? No, there will be war. And Ethniu and Corb will sit in their palace under the sea and laugh as the rest of us try to survive."



He sad the last giving BlackSky a steady look. As if gauging which way she would go.



I wondered myself. This was not her world, but she had expressed... annoyance at the secrecy of the Accorded nations and how they treated humans. Which made a sort of sense, short of Winter and maybe Summer, House BlackSky was the largest Accorded Nation.



In a war against the supernatural... would she take the side of the... mortals? I knew her spies and agents were doing more than making maps and studying technology and documenting assets.



Would the mortal powers accept their help?



House BlackSky were demons, overtly so. However they were also a nation-state in their own right. I glanced over at BlackSky.



I could see her offering weapons designs, knowledge. Things that would augment mortal soldiers.... and would make the fight far worse. Though maybe with a bit more focus...



BlackSky looked around the room with that confident smile and for a brief moment met my gaze. And I recalled that part of the reason her empire had its... reputation among its enemies was not jut their own capabilities, not just things like what BlackSky did after DarkStar's death, but that BlackSky was more than willing to trade with allies.



The empress then looked to Vadderung and gave a quizzical look.



And my stomach churned, for all his words.... Vadderung... Odin, liked to prepare for every contingency. If it came down to it which side would he come down on?



"And how is dying in a foolish battle an improvement?" LaChaise acidly, asked. "If Mab cannot stand against Ethniu then what can any of us do? What weapon do we have?"



Marcone's stare indicated he considered the ghoul a simpleton. "Courage. Skill. And will, Sir," the robber baron of Chicago said before turning to Vadderung. "I desire to contract every available Einherjaren for a night."



"Five hundred can be here in the next few hours," Vadderung stated.



Nodding, Marcone looked to the king of the Svartalves. "Etri?"



Breaking off from a conversation with my mother, the Svatelf steepled his fingers. "My people are more artisans than warriors. We shall fight-- but our assistance with defenses and providing equipment will be a greater boon. Baron, our armories are open to you."



Marcone gave another nod and regarded the dragon. "Sir?"



Ferrovax nodded thoughtfully. "I must be subtle. Otherwise would risk destroying more of the city than I save."



Vadderung gave BlackSky, who had pulled back a bit to chat with Mira, AshRain, and DawnStrike, a flat look. The demons had seemed to pull back a bit.



"With Etri's consent and consul, I shall bar the underworld to them, preventing them from moving though or beneath the earth. One-eye?"



Returning his attention to the others, Vadderung nodded slowly. "I will close all the Ways within the city itself. After my troops arrive in the city," he amended while BlackSky gave a tiny bow of her horns.



"That will leave them with only one angle of attack: the water," Marcone stated.



"Aye, their power is greater beneath the waves. They'll bore though any defense beneath the lake."



"We will deploy our forces against an attack from the lake," Marcone was resolute. "I will bring the full strength of my own organization here."



There was a polite cough. Or as polite of a cough as could come from the giant, hulking form of a sasquatch. It sounded like demolition charge. Pushing up his wire-rim glasses, River Shoulders adjusted his bow tie and stepped forward.



"My people are not yet Signatories of the Accords. However, if my understanding is correct, what is happening here has the potential to bring great harm. I stand with you."



Wizard Listens-to-Wind laughed he gave a broad smile. "Be good to work with you again, River."



River Shoulders winked to Listens-to-Wind. River was not one to rush into things. And a Forest Person who meant business was one of the most dangerous things to go up against.



"What of the White Court?" Ebenezar asked. "Where is Ms. Raith?"



My tail stilled. Sending her off... might not have been the best move. But we had to rescue our brother.



A confused murmur went up, and eyes fell into the White Court's section of the hall.



Only Riley, the head of her mortal gaud force, was there to speak. "Ms. Raith is attending matters of state. I have sent a runner with orders to bring her forces to combat readiness. A hundred guns plus whichever members of the house are in residence at the chateau. I will need her authorization before engaging, but I know when will want her forces staged here," he said, his voice steady.



I could see why my elder sister liked him.



"Transportation, communications," Marcone stated. "If anything that hex Ethniu threw was more effective than others I have seen at destroying technology. We are going to have difficulty reaching everyone and bringing them together."



BlackSky looked up from her work with AshRain and Mira. She gave a curt nod then faded to the background almost as well as I had. Mother was busy making notes and giving Etri the occasional question.



Svartalves were master crafters who coveted beauty in all its forms. That was part of how my brother had been able to get close to them... before he, for some reason, decided to try to assassinate Etri.



Still, the Svartalves valued their commitments, and had found in House BlackSky a group of other master crafters, these of unearthly beauty and allure. In her way, my Mother was quite tempting to them.



Now a cough came from the far end of the Hall. The Summer Lady had been consulting with her security team, including the Summer Knight. Sarissa's hair was now a cloud of white silken strands, over a dress that was leaf green. Not that I could see that given how the blending potion I drank made everything shades of grey to me.



She and Molly looked a scary amount alike. Almost like twins. I knew... well that wasn't relevant right now. That was Old-Man Harry's problem.



Looking intensely uncomfortable, Sarissa rose. "I can help with communications. The Little Folk are well suited for those tasks. Perhaps the roof of this castle as a command center? Or at least an easy access point for messengers."



Molly slid out of the whole behind the high seat with a rustle. "I've been handling transport for Winter troops for some time. I can bring more in, as long as I know where they need to be."



"Excellent," Marcone said as he motioned for some of his men to escort a few of Sarissa's people up to the roof to get started.



Watching all this BlackSky gave a smile that had pride. As if she was impressed with how he was making the best of what he had. Afterall no one else had taken the lead. Yet.



"Communications are the place to begin," Marcone stated.



"A centralized collection of our military assets as well," a ragged voice said.



Mab pulled herself out of the wall. She had been broken, literally. Half of her had been crushed and mangled as if some industrial accident. Her motions were jerky and too-quick.



There was a hideous cracking noise as she snapped her broken shoulder into place, it rotated unnaturally in its socket. Her skin was dimpled like aluminum sheeting subject to hail damage.



Her gaze tracked around the room. LaChaise avoided her eyes and looked as if he wanted to flee. Tilting her head, BlackSky shifted to move a bit closer.



"Queen Mab," Marcone respectfully said, as if she was not slowly snapping her body back into place. "It would be good to know what forces the Winter Court intends to bring to the city's defense."



Mab stared at Marcone and then BlackSky for a moment in silence. "My second informed me as of one hour past, all the forces of winter are required elsewhere. The Gates are under intense attack."



My guts lurched at that.



The Outer Gates were... they were the boundary between reality and... the Outside. They were way, way out in far Nevernever. Beyond was Outside, elemental chaos, beyond creation. The things in there were the Outsiders. Their hunger was eternal; their desire was to devour all of reality, mortal and otherwise.



It was no coincidence that the Outer Gates were under attack now.



Ethniu had to be in league with the Outsiders.



That meant a few powerful entities thought the Accorded nations had to be destroyed. BlackSky was right, this was a Declaration of War, perhaps more broad in scope than even she had implied.



Few in the room got what Mab was saying, but those who could translate her statement knew it very clearly. Vadderung, Ferrovax, the Senior Council, Etri and a couple others looked as queasy as I felt.



They had to understand, what was at cost here.



Clearly, so did someone else. BlackSky strode forward. Her dark gown almost turning to its full colors even with my spell.



Mab concluded her quick request to Fix, the Summer Knight, to warn Titania Queen of Summer of the situation.



As Fix bowed and withdrew, Mab turned to BlackSky. There was... something to her eyes.



"Ah, apologies for not getting to our newest, member," Marcone paused and nodded to River Shoulders. "Signed member, I should say. Do not worry, I fully intend to endorse your people's petition into the Accords."



"As do I," BlackSky stated.



"Imperatrix. This is not your world, but you are a signatory."



"My Granddaughter also styles herself as the protector of this city does she not?"



Marcone twisted his face. "Indeed."



"If I may ask, Queen Mab, where is the Winter Knight?" Ebenezar's tone was clam and respectful. Mab did not react well to aggression nor weakness.



"She was last seen consorting with Ms. Raith," Mab's tone was offhand.



"When I was last informed, they were organizing and procuring assets that may prove critical in defense of the city," BlackSky added.



I frowned. Did she know I was going to my island? Both to stabilize and secure Thomas and to gather powerful artifacts. There were things there, things I had burgled from Hades' vault that...



Deamonreach was also a prison for powerful supernatural entities. That was a secret few knew. I was its Warden. I was not sure if I could get Ehtniu close enough or if I was strong enough to defeat her, but.... that was an option.



How much did BlackSky know? And how much was her guessing that I, as a wizard, would be gathering such things.



Either way, both BlackSky and Mab knew I was hear. Hence both the Queen and Empress' carefully phrased sentences.



Ebenezar's expression hardened. "Ma'am, Ma'am, with respect. I will need to coordinate with... her, the sooner the better."



Mab gave him a cool gaze. "Provided her Grandmother had no duties for her, I will send her to you."



"Excellent that we have cleared that up," Marcone's tone was dry. "Imperatrix? I dare not presume, but you and your Daughters have been working your own plans. Would you care to indulge in sharing?"



BlackSky held up a finger. "A moment's indulgence please."



Perplexed silence grew in the room. Nearly a minute passed.



And then Vadderung, Mab, and Ferrovax all looked to the sky and then to my grandmother. I could see a flashes up through the hole in the ceiling. And I could feel something like a ripping or popping but magnified and then blurred by distance.



There were boot-falls as one of Marcone's men ran into the Hall. He was gasping, at his side was a Sidhe of Summer. The fae noble looked as shocked as Marcone's mercenary. Both talked about how the sky opened up and hundreds of airships of varying sizes suddenly appeared in a flash. Many were... only a few hundred feet long, but in the mercenary's estimation there had to be dozens at least a thousand feet long.



They were illuminated just long enough for the fae, who had better eyes to declare that demonic forms flew out of each and every one, their broad wings having them circle the great ships as they turned dark and moved in near-silent formation.



The room's entire attention was upon BlackSky.



And the demon empress smiled. "Accorded Nations, if you'll bear with me, I shall explain what forces I shall contribute."



+++++++++





I had gotten used to the hall falling silent in shock. Mira and AshRain had gotten even more busy, as were the other daughters, but their tones were hushed. And they seemed to be talking with whoever was on the airships.



"Imperatrix, I trust these are your forces," Marcone said in the casual tone he had managed this whole evening.



"Apologies for the delay in their arrival, there was... interference on getting them through. Thankfully my daughter was able to project a beacon for them to lock onto."



"It would seem that we are not the only ones who intend to close the Ways into the city," Vadderung said. He gave BlackSky a one-eyed gaze. He was not surprised by this. But there was.... concern.



"You said you would explain?" Ebenezar gave her a gimlet look.



BlackSky's smile was broad. "I did. I did not want to bear false hope... if they could not arrive, but they are here."



She looked around the room and caught everyone's eye before ending on Vadderung, Marcone, and finally Mab.



"Escorting is Task Force Nibelung consisting: of the Heavy Carrier HFV Valhalla, the Battlecruiser, HFV DarkStar, and various cruisers, destroyers, light carriers, corvettes, patrol boats, and fleet screen."



An incredulity spread among the room. Not that they disbelieved her statement, but that... the Accorded nations were supernatural nations. But many were , with few exceptions, small in population. And even master craftsmen like the Svartalves were not as big into mass production.



The Fae courts of Summer and, especially, Winter were different. They had large populations, and large standing armies. Winter's forces were massive, but they were tied up at the Gates. That said for all their power. Winter did not have carriers.



Vadderung and Mab were not among the confused in the audience. However, Vadderung was a bit taken aback by the Valhalla. I suppose it was for the best that grandmother brought that ship instead of her sister ship the Avalon.



From his raised eyebrow, I thought he was flattered.



For the others, ironically their experience in carriers and Battlecruisers came from mortal means. They had no idea about Ritual Plate, or the magical Fujiwara Aerial Torpedo.



However, some, such as Etri and Ebenezar seemed to be concerned at the name of DarkStar.



Not for my older sister's actions here a few months back. But for the story of DarkStar. The legend of what BlackSky did to House Vephar to avenge her. And here was BlackSky with a warship named after that lost granddaughter.



Ever since the Invasion, many Household Fleet vessels bore the memorial name. Though the current Kanabo Class Torpedo Battlecruiser was the last named before my sister was rediscovered.



Still, it was a fitting name for that crazy redhead. The Kanabo Class is more agile than the lumbering battleships, and still has well over a hundred Torpedoes and a squadron of Torpedo Boats or since they were flying were they Bombers? There were warships with more Torpedoes, and ones with more Torpedo Boats, but few with the relative agility and speed.



"That is a generous contribution," Wizard Cristos allowed. "Air support is a critical asset in battle, and perhaps this can help our mobility issue."



"True," BlackSky agreed. "But Nibelung is an escort force. Their role is to help protect the Emurian Sixth Landing Fleet. Though that I bring you Corpus Incursio Reliance,"



She gave a small chuckle. Latin was the official language of the White Council, and was spoken by many of the other Accorded Nations. And Silvan Latin was close enough to the variants for them to translate the bellicose term: Invasion, or Incursion, Corps.



"I bring six Legions. Four infantry. Two armored. And their supporting artillery, Ritual Plate, transports, and landing craft." BlackSky gave a pause and tilted her head to Mab and Marcone and Vadderung. "That is if you'll take my help."



LaChaise managed to find his voice. "You brought armor."



"Yes, yes, three dozen battle tanks, four dozen infantry fighting vehicles, six dozen light tanks," BlackSky paused. "And oh yes, over two dozen of some new infantry support guns."



The ghoul stared. "You have that all up on those... blimps?"



"The lookouts said there were hundred of them, and that many were over half a kilometer in length. I dare say that's enough to move literal legions of demonic troops," Marcone stated. Despite his outward calmness, I could see that he was a bit shocked. The mobster was as aware as anyone else that this was an invasion force. Maybe small to hold the city, but as a first wave?



"Forty thousand legionaries. Not counting support and Auxilia," BlackSky agreed. "My staff will explain our capabilities and how we can integrate our forces."



Which was more than her being polite. Marcone's, Lara's, and even Vadderung's men, might be in the far minority, but they had local knowledge. That information was invaluable in a battle.



Marcone gave a slight bow of his head to her and then gave everyone a sharp look. "Does anyone not want to accept House BlackSky's contribution?"



An unease fell upon the room. The Fomor were coming in a host capable of sacking Chicago. Even as crippled as the city was from Ethniu's hex, that had to be tens of thousands of Fomor and their levies and servitors about to swarm their way up from the water.



And now coming from the sky was a demonic invasion force. From a pure numbers game...



"Winter graciously accepts the help of its ally," Mab stated.



"Excellent," Grandmother's tone was dry, as if there could be no other choice.



Ferovaxx exhaled but kept his peace.



"Is it still hopeless LaChaise? I said we have Courage, skill, and will." Marcone glared at him.



The ghoul huffed. "And what of that Eye of hers? You saw what it did."



"The Eye of Balor," Etri said in a low hush. "It is a weapon of extreme power. In her hands it will cause mass destruction. It is a concentrated malevolence that will unmake. Combined with titanic-bronze, and her own abilities, Ethniu will be extremely difficult to stop."



"Another thing to consider and overcome. We have clever people and stock of our assets," Marcone stated.



"My troops are about ready to deploy, I will speak to them before they drop," BlackSky stated.



More confused silence went in the room as the demons immediately busied themselves. They had restored communications and got into contact with the fleet. The other Librarians had split up and were talking with the other Accorded Powers. A few guards and one of my aunts left the room and went up to the roof.



Even Mira who stood still and flicked her fingers with a very far-away look.



Among the non-demons, there was a sense that the world was not operating the way they had expected it to.



I had seen the expression multiple times, mostly on vanilla mortals getting their first, normally horrifying, exposure to the supernatural world. Seeing the leaders of the Accorded Nations having such a reaction was...



Understandable to be honest.



I knew some small bit about the Fleet and Legions. And had seen at least some of their units, if basically just a capital garrison force. Sure, I had seen First Home Fleet and other assets in the sky above Silvana.



And even I was a bit shocked. A force like this...



Many of the supernatural leaders in this room looked like they were afraid they were going to face an invasion on two fronts.



"Imperatrix, we are connected; all Fleet units reporting," Mira said as she lifted her hands as if to frame BlackSky between her thumbs and finger tips. "Transmitting... now."



BlackSky shifted her stance. Looking every bit the regal, imposing demon empress.



She stood such that Mab, Marcone, Vadderung, and Summer were behind her. Her black gown had gained some silver thread and she wore a red gem at her neck.



"Corpus Incursio Reliance, Emurian Sixth Landing Fleet, Task Force Nibelung," she announced, her voice strong, carrying to the heavens. Where before she had spoken with a total confidence, now she projected.



I noticed she was still speaking in English. Maybe Mira was translating for her, maybe the Legions could understand. Maybe Mira was adding subtitles.



"We are going into Chicago to protect, not to conquer. We will not fly our Imperial Banner in their city."



Her gaze swept the room, swept her fleet. I was almost pinned as I got a brief wash of her attention, and the potion that kept me beneath notice almost failed. In a way it was worse than Ethniu, for all her power she saw me as a bug and dismissed me.



BlackSky expected me to rise to the occasion. To be vital tonight.



Her tone sharpened. "Now, there are some who are alive in this moment who will not be alive shortly. Those of you who do not wish drop to the surface, we will not send them."



"As for the others, I expect you to make the enemy regret ever crawling up the beach!" She clenched a fist. There was no spark of flame, no flash of power. Just her will.



"Wipe them out if that is what they chose. If you are ferocious in battle remember to be magnanimous in victory."



Her tone sobered. "For a young people, Americas have more than their share of history. They are the custodians of the same Roman civilization, the same wisdom as ours. In two centuries, they went from a colonial backwater to a super power. You tread lightly here. We are here to help them fight a foreign invader."



Her lips quirked and she seemed to take in the Accorded Nations. "You will have to go a long way to find a more tenacious people. They are not helpless, and they are not without allies. You will be shamed by the sacrifices they will make to protect their loved ones. Their generosity when they have nothing puts us to shame.



"Do not treat them as refuges in their own country!" Her eyes were hard, adamantine, brokering no dissent.



Marcone almost bowed his head at that.



"When you find causalities of this war, remember when the citizens of this city got into bed, they did not plan to die this night. You will treat them with dignity in death. If you must bury, bury with due reverence, and properly mark their graves."



Mab's expression flickered a bit and Marcone looked thoughtful.



"The Fomor, the Mad Titan, will not grant you the same courtesy. Their aim is slaughter. Every last woman, man, and child. This cannot be allowed to pass. We are here to support the UnSeelie Accords; we are here because my granddaughter, Dame BlackStone has called for aide; we are here because it is right.



"The Fomor have abducted and killed in the shadows for years, now they think they can attack in the open, that they can sack a city, all without consequence." BlackSky grinned flashing her teeth to the waiting Legions.



"They have no idea the Hell that is to rain upon them." Her voice was calm, but there was steel there.



I frowned. I had read the history, some of it, and the legends, some of those of BlackSky...

I understood why she was more than willing to take Ethniu and Corb's insults. She was not dismissive of their power, but while they were belittling her, she was studying them.



She had prepared a counter to their betrayal.



Vadderung's grin looked wolfish. I was certain that he had an idea as to what was coming. It turns out he did. He was about the only one who knew what was coming. Who suspected that House BlackSky would bring more than one Task Force.



I had seen the maps full of arrows and diagrams. Ones that in retrospect had been left for my benefit. Again, not the first time someone had used that gambit for me.



I knew no plan survived contact with the enemy. I doubted when my paranoid Grandmother and her people suspected betrayal on the Fomor that they had planed for Ethniu and the Eye, but they had planed to fight the Fomor. And probably a bunch of other powers, but it was the Fomor did not have a blatant history of treachery.



And now all the sneaking and "recon" my sisters and Mira and others had done in Chicago all made sense. House BlackSky was learning, getting the measure of their potential enemies, preparing.



They still had yet to actually fight the Fomor, but at least they had considered the question. That was more than the Fomor had done, who I doubted even knew what a BlackSkyvian Legion was.



Ethniu and Corb were utterly dismissive of BlackSky when they made their entrance, and I know understood why my grandmother took their venom with such unflappable grace.



I could imagine Cohorts, Centuries, thousands of succubae in their uniforms, putting on their armor watching the display of BlackSky, their pulse quickening as they heard her. Pausing in their assembling and checking of equipment and munitions as they boarded the swarms of waiting landing craft.



"It remains my foremost intention to bring every one of you alive, but there may be those among us who will not see the end of this night. And we will we send them up to their ships for burial on the homeplane, but there will be no time for sorrow. We will grieve for them later. This I swear."



A bit of fear went up on the fleet, I knew even the most experienced would have fought in countless battles, but still a deployment on this scale, on a new world, there was trepidation, and the desire to not disappoint. The Fomor was an untested enemy. Ethniu an unexpected rival, the Eye an incomprehensible weapon.



They saw this as my city, as Dame BlackStone's and they were here for me, because these people were dear to me. My eyes widened as I realized this was not my imagination. I was just as much on this call as every other succubus in the Fleet and Legions.



BlackSky's tone was cold. "The enemy should be in no doubt that we are their ruination, and we have joined the other defenders of this city to bring about their rightful destruction. But remember, it is a big step to take another life, it is not to be done lightly." She exhaled.



"I know of women who have taken life needlessly in other conflicts; I can assure you they live with the Mark of Cain upon them. We fight in a city, a city full of people who wanted no part of this war. I know your Mothers won't want you to let them down."



"We will stop a mad god, destroy her army of monsters, go home safely, and leave Chicago a better place for us having been here."



I could fee the full measure of her power going through Mira and up to the fleet.



"Good Luck. Commence Drop." BlackSky ordered before the connection severed with Mira's shoulders slumping. For a moment I got the mental feedback of dozens and dozens of their fancy VTOLs, of their dropships, launching: all sorts of heavy equipment and troops descending into the night sky.



BlackSky stepped to her and put a hand on Mira's arm. "Thank you. Come, we have a battle to attend to," she said as she turned to AshRain.



I then managed to pull myself out of the room. I now had even more reason to get my brother out of this mess and go to my spooky island and retrieve those holy weapons.



Damn, crazy demons.





End opener.



And this is just the start of the "Battle of Chicago" project.

I've got ~40,000 words written on it so far. And when it gets more to it. It will be its own thread.



But since this segment was the Side B of the previous Side Story I figured it would be good to show *why* Tauria was part of a force that was invading Chicago.
 
Image: Tauria doing a Breifing Presentation
We've now got more art of Tauria.


This time she's giving a presentation to the most experienced member of her Flight: Volantes Centurion GreyDawn (screen left) and her commander Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus (screen right).


What is she presenting on? It looks like some part of Ritual Plate. Maybe it was her trying to convince the Squardon to switch over to all Polyxo Advanced Multi Roles, or maybe she's just being critical of "boob armor".



Full size.

(By the excellent Daywalkerrl link to artist's DA page possible NSFW content on it. )

Chapter 12 is now at 10,000 words and I hope to have it up soon. And hopefulluy that'll push us over to the next watcher goal.
 
Chapter 12: Dangerously Petite Pirouette
The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple

Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:

Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.

Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 12: Dangerously Petite Pirouette

Relief was coming. A Squadron of Ritual Plate plus Strike and Recon assets. Also inbound were multiple Flights of VTOLs and all the equipment and troops they carried. They were coming as fast as they could. Much of it was coming from the airbase near the main refinery complex.

And that was the problem.

I had updated Flight Ops as to the situation and the potential risks they were flying into. There were at least half a dozen anti-aircraft teams in this area. Which to me meant the Diluvians were willing to invest anti-air assets into this area. My concern was that they would coordinate those missiles with their, admittedly limited, Ritual Plate corps.

The worst part was that Flight Ops was equally concerned - Theater Headquarters had scrambled the entirety of their Strategic Recon Squadron. While I appreciated having an Occultia providing intensive airborne scrying of unparalleled power, that Flight Ops decided such a rare and valuable Ritual Plate was worth sending my way did much to crush any potential optimism I had that this would be an easy operation.

I pushed those thoughts off as we flew just above the trees. The rain had slackened, and was now merely pouring instead of hammering down in a full deluge. I needed to keep an eye on our increasingly scant fuel reserves. I estimated that we had only enough for another few operational hours, and even that was contingent on how intense the fighting would be.

Fortunately, we weren't flying blind. Far from it, in fact - the combination of an Occultia giving a broad overview and pulses allowed the four Gorgon Rigs in my Flight to give local and passive sensor intake. More than just our scrying rigs, which while less sophisticated were closer and at a different bearing, getting reflections from the Occultia's pulses, we could also take in a broad range of data which could be collated, compared and combined into a more complete view. This allowed us to send quite a bit of data up to Flight Ops.

There were more enemy formations moving into the area and their anti-air teams had relocated. Which was smart, but they had not moved terribly far. I was loath to split my forces but we all had missions.

That included Crimson Recon. That team of Forward Scouting Legionaries had wounded, who shockingly had stabilized and were a bit mobile. Still Crimson Recon had also moved a small amount and they too had split up.

Both of their Forest People Auxilia, two grenadiers, their designated markswoman, and Centurion Galba herself had gone off and split into twp teams. That left two Legionaries, including their medico and their anti-air specialist with her man-portable Vel launcher, to watch the wounded.

I had reservations. Splitting forces resulted in dilution of firepower, presented risk of defeat in detail, required more coordination, and gave more opportunities for something to go wrong.

I flew with Visha at my wing while VioletBlood and GreyDawn went to their own targets. Ours were the furthest out of the two, but we were faster even given our limited speed while flying just above, and often through, the upper canopy.

A deliberate trio of clicks came over my comms from Varro's channel. I glanced at the map display. There were a lot of enemies, but that was to the east, coming from through a couple valleys. Within a couple minutes a matching set of clicks came from Galba's team.

"VioletBlood, the others are in position," I said over the Flight channel.

"We are thirty out," came her tight reply.

"Remember-" I paused. Reminding her how to do this kind of strafing run would just undermine her confidence. "- your training and you'll be okay. You can count on GreyDawn."

I looked over my display. All four elements were in position. "This is Diamond Actual. Execute. Execute. Execute."

I pushed my Zephyr and accelerated up as I raced towards my target with Visha covering me. The target raced up. The location was based on the assembling of scrying data from several sources. There was a chance that the Diluvians had put their search scrying systems separated from their missile launchers.

There!

In an area just below a ridgeline the trees had thinned slightly and my composite display highlighted a pair of Villeneuve missile platforms. Of Trosic manufacture, the Villeneuve was a strider-based golem similar to the Vel-equipped Marius Mule. However where our Legions had eight ready missiles, the slightly larger Villeneuve carried a rotary magazine of fifteen. The Toulon missile was also smaller which took up less space in a launcher. With a warhead only slightly less powerful than a Vel's the weight savings came at the cost of decreasing the range and having a less sophisticated seeker head.

Which was fitting as the Vel was a flexible missile that House BlackSky used for many air and ground targets whereas the Toulon was optimized as a light and inexpensive close-range surface to air missile for anti Ritual Plate work. There were tradeoffs between the two designs.

The enemy formation started taking hits as a Minerva rotary cannon opened up, raking the launchers. Sniper-fire picked off a couple of the operators and someone who was giving orders.

The assaulting force had the advantage of stealth and surprise but they were grossly outnumbered. And while the Villeneuve was more armored than the Marius Mule it was not quite designed to take up concentrated fire. It was also harder to use when the remote operators were being shot.

Taking evasive measures, I opened fire with my Pilum projector. One was down.

There were also some cargo golems and a ground force, though my focus was on the remaining Villeneuve that was busy spitting out Toulon missiles. If I were alone, I might have had to do more to intercept them, but Visha was using her Falx to take out the incoming ordnance.

Typically, in such a situation other anti-aircraft stations would fire to assist their beleaguered foes, but both of the westernmost stations were being hit at the same time. That wasn't to say that there was no supporting fire but it was decidedly sparse. Where once there had been a coherent air defense ring, there was now just a fragmented arc.

Like most light anti-air installations, the Villeneuve worked best coupled with other launchers and airborne assets. Not that it would have usually been a good idea for them to throw their RP at us. As unglamorous as it sounded, using their Ritual Plate to provide targeting and guidance for their missiles would be a far better use of finite resources. A full Villeneuve system was far cheaper than a Ritual Plate and, in this terrain, could be spread out to provide multiple overlapping angles of fire. It was also efficient; the enemy could launch twenty missiles to take out one Ritual Plate Flight and still come out ahead in terms of cost.

It also helped that we were in advanced Polyxo suits and I had a very experienced wingwoman. It was easy for a pilot to get contemptuous of ground fire,

And if each of the six anti-air teams had two Villeneuve launchers and cargo walkers with spare missiles then that came to about thee hundred and fifty missiles. Which while still a considerable investment, also confirmed that their initial launch against my Flight was the Diluvians holding back, even though they had launched nearly a hundred missiles. I suspected they had wanted to get more than just four Ritual Plate.

To their credit, the Diluvian troops repositioned to try to get cover and engage the ground ambush right after their launchers blew up. The guard force knew that the trained operators and maintainers they were protecting were more valuable alive and instead of some defiant last stand were covering their retreat.

Unfortunately for them, I knew that as well. I also had allies on the ground to protect. Switching to anti-infantry Falx fire, I strafed the enemy and, for good measure, I took out the cargo vehicles. Many of those fleeing ran into elements of Crimson Recon, who had clear orders not to advance beyond a certain longitudinal value.

The ground attack done; I joined assisting Visha in taking out the last of the airborne threats as we broke contact and went to the west.

"Target 1 Eliminated," I transmitted.

"Target 2 as well," VioletBlood gasped. I checked her status. There was some minor damage to her systems but she and GreyDawn were still combat-capable

"We've broken contact! Thanks for the assist, Diamond!" Varro's gruff tones were approving. "Going to the rally point."

"That makes it a clean sweep," Galba stated, with evident relief which I felt as well.

"Confirm. Outstanding work! Give your team my compliments," I told her and Varro before changing the comm channel. "Flight ops, this is Diamond Flight. The door is open, we'll be setting out the welcome mat shortly."

My concern was where were the Diluvians going from here? Taking out Crimson Recon was only a side element to their mission; there had to be some objective worth fielding this many troops.

That Flight Ops indicated other areas of the Eastern Interior Confederation were starting to turn hot was ominous. We were still far from the Emma Mine Complex and the Oraje Refinery so those facilities were not the target of this group of enemy, at least not at the moment.

But there were plenty of settlements, businesses, and assets that helped with supporting the miners, refinery workers, their staff and provided other parts and services that kept the supply of Samarium, Neodymium, Erbium and other rare metals flowing.

"VioletBlood, GreyDawn, meet up," I said, over the Fight channel. Now that the objective had been met I wanted to get my force back together into one unit.

"Confirm," VioletBlood replied coolly. I was glad to see her emotions were back under control.

"Diamond Flight, we have the incoming VTOLs," Flight Ops said. "Updating your telemetry."

"Understood. What about the strike package from Quirinus' Flight?" My concern was that the Four RP directly under the control of my commander would be directed to another hotspot. The 2nd Flight in my Squadron, Mercy's, had already been diverted.

"We have been released to your area of operations," Prefect Centurion Quirinus herself replied. "Good work Diamond, give your Flight my congratulations."

"I will," I assured my squadron commander. "I'll make sure to find your Flight something worthy to hit when the reinforcements land," I promised as I looked over the map display.

The problem was not just finding an enemy concentration or a critical enemy asset worthy of a Lance strike, but was determining what the enemy's goal was. And the best way to use our resources to counter that.

"What about Mercy's Flight?" I asked, studying what was in the area where the Diluvians had tried to stop Crimson Recon. There were not any BlackSkyvian facilities in the area, the nearest was our FOB EmeraldInferno, but there was a House Crocelli garrison overlooking the town of Vhin.

"Yes, I've got my whole Squadron together," Quirinus assured. "Plus reinforcements."

"Understood," I said, feeling a bit better. This might be a mess, but reinforcements both air and ground were inbound.

I overlaid a topographical map over the tactical display. Based on assumed terrain and probable enemy locations, the intended Landing Zones seemed reasonable enough. I was no expert on running a Landing Operation, but I had been trained on how to secure an LZ.

I swapped channels. "Flight Ops, we will commence scouting and clearing Landing Zones and coordinate with Crimson Recon."

"Confirm, Diamond Flight," came the smooth, calm voice of the dispatcher.

I went back to the Flight channel and tied in Centurion Galba and Scout Auxilia Varro. "Okay, I'm pushing you the coordinates of the proposed Landing Zones." I executed the command and once again had to trust that our comms were secure.

In full fairness, thaumaturgically linked systems were very hard to intercept, and that was before taking the encryption the Fleet and Legions used for tactical channels into account. I knew some of the theory and broad strokes of the mathematics involved, but the details were on a need-to-know basis, and as a pilot who could be captured by the enemy I clearly did not need to know.

The complexity of the calculations was closer to my first life than my second, though the usage of specialized enchantment channels and runes was more akin to a very specialized and low-power computation device. One that would readily self-destruct by burning out the channels as part of scuttling the suit.

Though even capturing intact hardware would be of limited use, as the codes for the channels were frequently changed and even the architecture of the calculations was routinely updated. Still, having an intact communications system would give any enemy a leg up on our methods. It did not help that ground troops had a similar, if less far ranging, set of comms. Or that the Ritual Plate models House BlackSky sold for export also had communications systems. That they were the previous generation and used a different encryption methodology was only some mitigation.

The boffins assured us they had done everything their clever minds could come up with. However no system was perfect and compromising comms was the crown jewel of military intelligence. It was with that paranoia that I passed on the vital data that had been shared with me.

Galba gave a snort while Varro laughed. "How attached are the brass-horns to these locations?" the gruff Forest Person asked.

"They're open to revision."

"Good, because LZ 2 is right by a cliff that'll collapse if someone looks at it funny. And not a friendly shale collapse. The geology shifts in that area and the exposed ridgelines are nasty, uplift basalt that's been cracked by Maker knows how many eons of water and roots having fun. If Command wants to put what I think they want to put there, then if clearing the LZ doesn't set things falling on them then the artillery certainly will."

I was not certain if Varro's geology estimates were correct, but he seemed to be informed. "Centurion?" I asked Galba.

"It's not a great spot. One bouncing boulder could wreck a VTOL and we'd have a proper mess." She chuckled. "Though at least we'd have you to help save us from that."

I suppressed a sigh. Sometimes, I cursed my reputation. "Let's not have a repeat of Ortov. I helped you at the river and you helped me take out those Villeneuves. You know the land. What's a good replacement location?" As I asked, my Flight continued to fly low and with increasing speed. Our scrying system was helping map things out and with those two anti-air sites down there was a bit less of a known threat.

"I'd go a bit further North. The map cautions that the ground is mixed rubble and stones, but a rocky field is better than the bog that most of the other ground is around here. Plus there will be a bit less foliage for you to cut," Varro suggested.

I eyed the map and looked at the data intake from the various scrying assets I had. "Okay, any objections? GreyDawn, what do you think?" The longest-serving member of my Flight had been on operations like this before.

"Foreign Object Ingestion is going to be a problem with any field landing, but strider-golems have some problem with walking in mud, though an artillery park might have to move off..." she paused. "I see a location. Yeah this seems better, and not too far off from the original LZ."

"Excellent work, Varro." Praising competent subordinates was vital. "Okay, what about the other Landing Zones? Don't hold back, if you want something moved for tactical reasons I'll fight for it." I assured Galba and Varro. "You're our eyes on the ground. Reinforcements are coming, let's work the problem."

Centurion Galba spoke up next. "I think they're after House Crocelli's Vhin township garrison."

"It could be something else, maybe the dam or a bridge downstream of the reservoir?" I offered

Galba snorted. "That would be done by a small sapper team, not the numbers we're seeing. With the numbers of troops and equipment they're exposing it has to be something worth the risk."

The Garrison had a robust field runway and even had some fixed-wing and VTOL assets, mostly as a cheap way for a Minor House to have budget ground attack assets, troop transport and even some budget Ritual Plate. They had a squadron of Alecton Archers if memory served. And there was at least a cohort-equivalent of House Crocelli's Jungle Hunters. While not as comfortable in the interior jungles as the Diluvian irregulars, they had better equipment though that gap was reducing. They were also, if anything, more ruthless than the Diluvian troops.

I contemplated my tactical display. "If the Diluvians think they could take that garrison, one with even basic Ritual Plate and artillery... Then it's likely they had more assets than those we've observed."

"Perhaps one of the other enemy attacks is intended to link up at Vhin?" Visha gently reminded as she highlighted other elements on a more zoomed-out tactical display.

I glanced over my updated display. Having an Occultia in the field was a great boon as it showed far more enemy assets and there, to the south, was what seemed like a column taking a mountain road that would link up with Vhin. It was not very subtle but they were moving fast.

I smiled as my tail swished in the wind stream and rain. "Good find. Visha, help the others adjust the other Landing Zones. I have a call to make."

"Yes, Diamond!" Visha eagerly said.

I could just feel her joy and the predatory glee that made her a war maniac, albeit one with more self-control. I switched comm channels. "Quirinus."

"Go, Diamond," my squadron commander said.

"I have some targets to propose for your Flight." I stated as I sent the locations and quickly explained the theory on the Vhin Garrison.

Concessions, deals, "security contracts", and outright bribes were how House Crocelli kept some semblance of peace in the only nominally governed Eastern Interior Confederation. Many service contracts were given to powerful families, tribes and other groups to get them to buy into the operation and have a vested interest in the metal extraction proceeding smoothly.

The Diluvians objected to this status quo. And it was certainly not out of avarice for lands that they claimed were theirs, nor out of a desire against imperialistic exploitation. Though if their leaders thought House Trosier's gifts or House Ziox's lessons did not come with strings then they would be sadly mistaken.

Yes, neither of those Houses thought well of House BlackSky, and while House Ziox was neutral to Alecto, Trosier was in a low-intensity war with the other major naval power in Diyu. Denying a major supplier of critical metals to their hated enemy was worth some deniable assets. I doubted even House Trosier was arrogant enough to think they could get the output of the mine for themselves. That would require them to occupy part of House Crocelli, right in House BlackSky and Alecton's backyard.

As such the Vhin Garrison was a tactical and political target. With it eliminated, the Duivians had more operations space and our forces could be flanked and pressured which could expose the mining complex and refinery that were the whole reason House BlackSky even cared.

"Well, you don't do things by halves," Prefect Quirinus said after taking a moment to digest the idea. "With our loadout, I can't guarantee taking out all of their forces, especially if they disperse."

"Roughly a dozen Lance strikes will blunt just about any motorized column," I countered.

"Good point," Quirinus laughed. "I'll have Mercy's Flight run escort and do a strafe to mop up and do damage assessment. That will delay some of your backup."

"We'll manage," I said, keeping myself from gritting my teeth. I was getting used to my ideas having negative consequences. On balance it would be better to hit the enemy before they could link up so there was that.

"So, I've heard," she said.

That sent a chill down my spine which went to the tip of my tail. What had she heard about the river skirmish? I was just making the most of all those Toulon missiles forcing us below the tree line. "I'll make sure we do the Legions proud," I promised, going with something that sounded safe.

"Oh, I have no doubts about that, Countess."

++++++

Still pondering the earlier conversation with that mushroom-obsessed demon countess, I looked over the rest of my Recon Team as the Spatha's engines screamed and the nimble little craft plummeted towards the jungle. Aside from some wings ruffling and tails twitching, they took the combat drop with aplomb.

Wings gave them the comforting illusion of safety. Most crashes were too fast or violent for a Legionary to simply bail out and hope to fly out of. Myself, I simply continued to hunch over up against the wall and held the harness straps.

"Doors open!" Centurion Otho shouted as trees flashed past us and then above us as we hit the Landing Zone. The interior was pretty cramped as there was half a pallet of artillery shells by the aft ramp. It was awkwardly placed and I would be happy to be away from them, but I could see the logic. Given how hungry even a single Tormenta of artillery pieces would be, a lot of our VOTLs would carry some extra.

I simply turned over and undid the latch and with a tug slid open the port side door. One of our grenadiers took position at each opening as we went down.

There was a final flare of the engines as the pods rotated to straight up and down and then canted just a hair forward as both our forward and vertical velocity cut off.

Hefting the big oilskin rucksack over my shoulder and taking my machine gun, I jumped out of the VTOL and easily made the last few feet. My feet touched the squelchy mud and pulped plant matter of the freshly-made clearing. The rest of the team also jumped out with slightly more elegance and grace.

Before we had rushed more than a few steps out to the tree-line, the Spatha had shot back up into the air, engine downwash adding to the pouring rain which soaked my fur and plate carrier.

Still, in a few more paces I would be back into the forest.

Yes, it was full of entirely the wrong type of trees and entirely too many succubae with passable woodcraft who wanted to kill me, but I had agreed to go wherever Imperatrix BlackSky sent me and kill whoever ordered. And my people were not ones to idly break our vows.

With Hosta dead, I was the only Auxilia in Emerald Recon. Which was a bit irksome. Not that my squadmates were incompetent in the jungle, but while demons had many physical advantages over my people, size and true woodcraft were not among them. That meant that until a replacement came down south to our FOB, I either had to work alone or pull one of the "proper" Legionaries to watch my back. Ideally, Laco our markswoman or Vinius the most fleet-footed and nimble-hooved of our grenadiers.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I glanced up. Checking the sky was an ingrained habit if one wanted to survive fighting demons regardless if they were irregulars, Minor Houses, or the Great Diyu powers.

House BlackSky might take the most extreme form but all demons loved their air power. It was hard to see much through the storming rainfall and cloud cover, but the VTOL that had sent us out here was still visible as well as some distortions that might have been their escorting RP. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.

I would rather have that countess and her Flight directed towards our mutual enemies. Further afield I could see the main Landing Zone receiving Flights of Umbra Medium VTOLs. I idly wondered how many Centuries and artillery pieces would be moved in. I then put my attention to more terrestrial matters and entered the cover of the forest.

The rain had lessened a little bit now that we were under the leafy cover. Though my shorter and far more slender teammates already looked drenched and waif-thin. At least they moved reasonably well.

I had to concentrate a bit to not blend in so much that my teammates lost sight of me. Despite the mix of rocks, mud, roots and leaves, they all managed to keep their footing. There was nothing worse than having to be a Scout Auxilia for a bunch of city-bound incompetents.

Fortunately, that tended to be a self-correcting problem. More so that Auxilia of my specialization were in demand enough to be put to good use. Great Maker, the Legions even let those foxes into the Auxilia. Yes, they were reasonably stealthy and good with fire and illusion magic but they were not exactly trustworthy. And they were just as slender and puny as the demons. Which I suppose made them more comfortable to be around for the succubae.

The big oilskin bounced off my back as we clambered into the woods. I did not begrudge carrying the heaviest load, the others were also laden with supplies.

Crimson Recon had fought hard and was down two Legionaries. That pair had been evacuated on the first Spatha to have landed ahead of us which kicked out a few supplies, mostly to replenish their depleted medico and give them more water.

"Lares? Come over here, I want your input," Centurion Otho said after meeting up with her counterpart in Crimson Recon, Centurion Galba.

I was not surprised to see Varro, one of Galba's two Scout Auxilia looming by her. Fortunately, all the Scout Auxilia at FOB EmeraldInferno were Forest People. Not that there was anything wrong with the Kitsu but they used different gear and weapons.

Varro was a bit shorter than me though was bulkier with more muscle and had a slightly darker pelt. Though, like the rest of his team, he was utterly soaked. As our commanders exchanged greetings and went over maps, I undid my ruck and opened it.

He accepted the ammunition and grenades with equanimity, but his dark eyes lit up as I handed him a couple oversized packets of rations. Tearing into a sleeve of fortified nutmeg twists, he handed the foil packet of energy crystals over to his centurion, who ripped off a couple to slip into her armor's pouches before passing them along.

"We've had a long night, made fairly comfortable by Diamond Flight," Galba joked.

I glanced over to Varro. He gave a slight nod as he chewed. There was a story there, something he would tell me later. I did not mind working with him, even though he had a slightly different style.

Otho nodded to Galba. "Once the combat engineers finish setting up a firebase, I'll be asking for their help. We'll be setting some positions before the main Legionaries form up." She had unfolded a map and started pointing out locations.

I nodded and gave a few thoughts for where the geomancers could improve things. Varro gave a few words of confirmation. He knew more than I did about the structural properties of natural stone.

Which were vital to making the engineer's job easier.

The two Centurions lined out a few other thoughts on the map display. I grunted when the likely enemy positions were added. The Diluvians were coming, but they had delayed to reorganize and consolidate their lines.

Galba and Otho glanced about as they quickly mulled over the map. I could just feel the conversation those two were having as the rest of us stood around in the rain. Well, at least most of our recon teams were on watch.

"Lares, we've got a job for you, Varro, and Flaccus," Otho said.

I just nodded. Going out alone had several downsides. At least this meant I would be out with people who knew how to be quiet.

"What's the target?" Varro asked as he stared at the display to commit the information to memory.

Otho pointed to a couple spots on the map. "Air Recon thinks there's some more Gravina mortar platforms and some more Villeneuve missile launchers."

"That much is true, but they think they found a few smaller teams with these platforms going to flank us, maybe provide some enfilading fire." Galba shrugged at the map. "It's as good of an estimate as any as to what those teams are doing, but we want you to find out for sure."

"Air Ops has been rather good tonight," Varro rumbled.

. "True, and if it's not Dilu with shiny Trosic surplus golems then it might be their own recon teams. Either way, we want you three to deal with them," Otho stated.

"Can we call our own air support?" I asked.

Looking up at me, Galba gave a fanged smile. "I'll give you priority with Diamond Flight. They should be done with a field refueling at the other LZ before you get going"

Nodding, I saluted.

"Let's get the rest of this to Flaccus so he can get that pig of his reloaded," Varro joked about Falccus ' Minerva rotary cannon. In truth all three of us would be carrying ammunition for that profligate weapon.

"Get geared up, get a quick bite, then head out," Otho recommended.

I had some more water and a bit of food while Varro finished eating. One upside to the demons was they were loath to let even their Auxilia go hungry.

We reunited with the lanky Flaccus with his light fur. He nodded to me and eagerly helped take the belts of 0.70 in ammunition for his Minerva and put many in voluminous pouches that hung from his harness. Varro and I divvied up the rest of the Minerva ammunition and then split the ammunition belts for our machine guns.

After that we divided the grenades, charges, water canteens, food, and medical supplies. "How was Diamond Flight tonight?"

"Danger close," Flaccus murmured.

Nodding, I looked to Varro. "Yeah, they went in under the canopy and took out a whole Diluvian column. The countess was more than willing to get her claws dirty," he drawled.

"Including getting two fresh ones for the medico," Flaccus grumbled.

I grunted. Short term, it was good to have powerful air support. Long term, it meant that maybe it would be best for me to get in on the countess' mushroom harvesting scheme. It would be safer than my other options.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I made sure the ruck was empty and folded it up. My gaze went to Flaccus and Varro. The three of us shared a nod and we slipped into the forest.

My feet silently went through the ground nearer the roots avoiding litter and crunch. Water came down upon us. It was nice to follow someone who had an ingrained ability to woodswalk. Varro knew to avoid the "paths", the lines between the trees where the deadfall went and where the water collected.

Water-laden leaves and branches arched down and many had to be pushed aside. Our size was a bit of a disadvantage. I would admit that the kitsu had an easier time by being smaller and being able to get far lower to the ground.

But we were Forest People, and while this jungle was not our own home, it was home enough. We blended. The foliage moved and helped us and our forms blended in.

We traveled without splashing, without disturbing the flow. This much water made keeping a conventional illusion... difficult and energy-intensive.

Yards and yards of forest passed under our large feet without us being seen. For we did not use conventional illusions. There was no magical projection masking our presence. We simply were the People of the Forest.

Soon the smell of BlackSkyvian Legionaries vanished and for a while it was just the three of us as we traveled inexorably towards the first Diluvian patrol. I trusted Varro's orienteering skills.

Even the least of us would have a hard time getting lost even in a foreign jungle. And the topography of this area meant it was rather obvious for us to go in the right direction, all we had to do was keep following the upslope.

Sniffing the air, we slowed, exchanged a couple quick hand signs, and spread out. There were Diluvians out here. I had some pity for the small demons. This was their home, and they were... passable. Still, there was only so much they could do to make that clambering golem quiet.

It was a mortar platform and another multi-legged golem laden with munitions. The Diluvians did keep a vanguard out in front scouting. We let the two demons pass, allowing them to keep their illusions.

The demons had rather good kit. Their uniforms were light but waterproof. But one could be skilled in an activity and still find it miserable. It did not help that they were most certainly deadening their emotional transmissions to keep them from being detected by Legion Recon teams.

Letting our weapons hang on their straps, We wheeled to the trailing end of the small formation. Four demons trudged along. They kept their weapons tight to keep from hitting branches but ready to use, and they made use of the terrain and the gloom.

It was still like sneaking up on a youth marching band. Containing my breathing and wrapping myself deeper into the forest, I slipped up to the very last members of the little formation.

The pair had enough sense to watch their backs without walking backwards. They were also not bunched up. The two had enough distance that it would be a bit hard to kill both with one burst. The two demons were wary and alert without being paralyzed with fear.

Exact colors were hard to tell in the deep darkness, but both had pale features and short, bright hair. Maybe they were sisters. It did not matter. None of it mattered. They did not matter.

I was almost at them...

Eyes widened and the Diluvian was about to react.

I let my rage and frustration bubble up as my arm shot out and caught her neck in my meaty palm. One great advantage of fighting enemies half your size was that I could fully encircle her neck with one hand. I immediately squeezed, putting the most pressure on the sides of the demon's neck.

Cutting off the supply of blood to the brain was a quicker way to kill than strangling the front to cut off the supply of air to the lungs. Her eyes widened but it was hard to scream without any air going through one's neck. A flicker of defiance went over her face. Maybe, she was going to lift her rifle, maybe she was going for a grenade, maybe she was going to use her tail. It was moot as before that flicker could fully register, I grabbed her head by the horns with my other hand and simply twisted my arms like I was opening a cheap screw-top bottle of Legion schnapps.

I gently let the diminutive demon fall to the ground with a muffled thump.

Just enough to get her partner's attention. That and the sudden loss of whatever minimal emotional signature she had been emitting.

Still her partner was sensible enough to not throw a fireball, whisper out a name, or do anything to reveal her location. She tried to have good fieldcraft. She should call back to the rest of the column, but part of her hoped this was a false alarm.

That was the problem with empaths. It made some very in denial about death.

And she clung to that grim bit of hope when Varro loomed up behind her, grabbed her by the helmet, twisted and sunk his combat knife just below her neck in an economical motion.

My nostrils flared with the scent. Well, Varro did prefer to work a bit more wet when it came to eroding morale.

Briefly meeting my gaze, he gave a tiny nod before slipping back into the shadows. There were quiet words of alarm ahead of us. The demons had better noses and would know something was wrong. Right, onto the next phase.

I trotted off to get into position, trusting that Flaccus and his heavy weapon were already ready

And then the artillery Tormenta opened up. I smirked, this was either very fortuitous or disastrous.

The distant explosions from the guns spread more worried, barely concealed, chatter among the enemy group. They had also stopped their mortar golem.

There was a moment of indecision as they wondered if they were the target of the BlackSkyvian barrage. I'll admit to having some fear as well, but it was a base thing. We Auxi were too valuable to be wasted on taking out just an enemy mortar team.

But the Diluvians did not know that. They did not even know we were here.

The formation's officer tried to rally her troops, which involved spreading them out and calling all her subordinates.

Flaccus did not give her the time. Taking a perpendicular position to the rough enemy column, his Minerva Rotary Cannon opened up. I saw distant figures fall and the Gravina golem mortar carriers go up. They had armor, but only enough to protect against small arms.

Varro and I had also fired out machine guns. Each of us using the better part of a belt that went across the length of the column. Again the enemy was sensible enough to split their forces along multiple paths. So we could not simply just fire down a single line.

"Covering!" Varro shouted as he switched to shorter bursts as I ran in. Machine gun dropping to its strap I took out a clutch of grenades. Even in all this confusion I was still no more than a blur to the enemy. I primed the ordnance and with a seemingly lazy series of lobs chucked them around the center of the enemy formation and two at the cargo golems that were heaped with crates of mortars.

They had all gone to the ground. Both those who had been cut down and those with the sense, and luck, to go prone. I ran past them at an angle to pull out and meet up with Flaccus. To my side I heard an explosion go off, including a much larger crump. Luck was with us tonight.

I fired the rest of my belt to give Flaccus time to reload his Minerva, and then he covered me as I swapped in a fresh belt of my own.

I then gave sporadic fire as we withdrew. The Minerva fired faster and larger, heavier cartridges at that. It was good for ambushes and when heavy firepower was required, but even with the three of us carrying extra ammunition, it was short-lived.

Rendezvousing with Varro, each of us gave some of the Minerva ammunition we were carrying to Flaccus.

Once we were certain the mauled mortar teams and their escorting infantry were not pursuing, Varro reported his status and checked the map. He muttered for a bit to the Recon Centurions. "Confirm."

He gave us a grim smile. "Well, gentlemen," he said with a rueful chuckle. "We've got an anti-air crew to take out."

Falccus gave a slow nod. "Do we have air support this time?"

Varro smiled at me. "Yes. Turns out we will be getting Diamond Flight, if we can hurry up." He flipped the map to me with the lines that were just visible in the gloom and pointed out our location and that of the enemy.

It was a fair distance but we could make it. Even our Legionary allies had trouble comprehending how fast our kind truly could be.

The Villeneuve missile launcher was similar to the Gravina mortar carrier, except it was bulkier and larger. Thus it was harder to move them with stealth.

And it was easier for us to find and confirm this group. That they had a larger escorting force made it more of a challenge

This group was further away from the mortar teams. Those luckless succubae had been moving in to get into a position to help an infantry assault on our landing zones. I wondered if their commanders knew the Legion had landed a Tormenta of artillery, with all the support such a collection of Arachne guns entailed.

Those mortar guns could have helped an infantry assault but they would have to get in quick, otherwise the counter-battery fire would have been withering. The Arachne was an effective enough weapon lobbing a fifty pound shell with reasonable range and accuracy. It was also light enough that two Umbra Flights could deliver a Tormenta of four guns and their supporting equipment, troops, shells, fuel, and Marius Mules.

As we traveled, the artillery base had continued fairly regular fire. They would release several salvos at one target before adjusting to another. Often that adjustment included moving the guns. Though I honestly wondered if that was enough to avoid being targeted by enemy fire, especially as each time they moved they would have to recalibrate the guns. But I was no Istarii Centurion.

I did know that the guns were hungry and could easily deplete the supply of shells they had been initially supplied with. Hence the frequent VTOL supply drops. I also knew that Ritual Plate played a vital spotting role. Though with an Occultia in our area of operations that dramatically helped in collating enemy movements, especially given the foliage cover.

The Villeneuve battery was further back, closer to friendly support. After Crimson Recon's earlier escapades, it seemed that they had pulled their air defense closer. For some reason these Diluvians were paranoid about aerial attacks.

However being able to fill the sky with Toulon missiles did little to stave off a creeping artillery barrage. And there were worse things for them to worry about.

I gave a grim smile as I watched the little demons huddling down to try to guard the mobile missile platforms and their crews. Despite the miserable rain they had not put on fires or started using Pixie, a minor synesthetic euphoric, or anything like that.

More out of keeping good habits than anything else I slowly crept over to Varro. We had not seen any evidence of Forest People native to these jungles, but that did not mean that the Duvians did not have access to any, or maybe other jungle specialists. They might even have a practitioner who specialized in stealth, invisibility, or veiling herself or maybe one who could pierce our obfuscating magic.

I suppressed a sigh. Hosta was an ass, but he did not deserve to die like that. At least he took out plenty of demons with him, for whatever small consolation that was worth. I stepped over a root as my large feet passed over the jungle floor, leaving hardly a mark. As unpleasant as the rain was, it did make things easier in that regard.

Small consolations were about all one got in this life.

I gave Varro an inquisitive look and signed a basic question.

Shrugging, he did not take his attention off the enemy formation. Given the limited sightlines between the trees, branches, vines and other bits only glimpses could be made. The regular artillery shots had quieted most of the wildlife which gave a nicely oppressive silence in between bombardments.

Varros brows knitted as he considered his options.

"Just let Diamond deal with them?" I offered.

"We do have a shiny new firebase of Arachne artillery," Flaccus grumbled as he checked over his Minerva. The weapon was admirably water-resistant, but checking it out was prudent.

I nodded. We had traveled a fair bit, but the range... No wonder those troops were so miserable. I would bet a three-day pass at the beach, Great Maker I would bet a one-day pass at the airbase by the refinery's airport, that the Diluvian commander of that little air defense node was angrily yelling at her superiors for permission to move her assets.

The Diluvians could read a map too. "Both?"

"Both," Falccus agreed.

"Both sounds good," Varro chuckled as he switched on his comm system.

I patched into the channel as well and once we connected in.

"Auxiliary Scout group to Diamond Flight and Second Arachne Tormenta ," Varro stated.

"Diamond Actual, here" the Countess' haughty confident voice came in. She sounded much the same as earlier today, as if she could talk about her ideas for administering her land holdings if not for this pesky battle.

"Tormenta here," the Istarii Centurion drawled in a Midlands accent. Her audio feed periodically cut out as the four artillery pieces fired.

"Presenting coordinates on a Villeneuve battery," Varro said.

"At least three launcher units and a separate supplemental scrying station," I added.

"Fair range; I'll have an open slot on the guns shortly. What do you think flygirl? Are you comfortable getting close enough?"

I could imagine the haughty disdain on the Countess' face. "We can be there in ten. And can act as spotters after the initial hits." Dispute that her tone was perfectly professional. "Auxilia, are you positioned? I don't want you at risk if the shells fall short."

Varro gave a quiet chuckle.

"That won't be a problem," the Istarii Centurion frostily said.

I gave Varro a look and he nodded. "We'll be guiding you in," he assured after giving the coordinates for the keep-out zone. He then motioned and the three of us started moving.

We could not move too far and still keep a good view on the enemy position

"Diamond Flight in position," the Countess said. Given the potential danger and that her Flight of Ritual Plate were not hovering, it was less of a single position and more that they were within the right general area.

"Scouts in position," Varro said.

"Confirm. Commencing firing solution," the Istarii Centurion stated all business.

The sky then opened up as a quartet of shells landed just a bit north of the enemy position. One of the Villeneuve launchers might have been knocked out then and there. But the Diluvians, already on edge, hunkered down and started calling for support.

I gave a bit of a smirk. Villeneuve had about twice the capacity of our surface to air launchers but that came at a cost; while our Vel missile was primarily an anti-air weapon it could be stretched into various counter-fire and anti-ground roles, their Toulon was smaller and was limited to anti-air roles.

I scanned the forest as the next salvo hit and fed Varro targeting info that he repeated. The channel got a bit busy as the Countess also added her own observations.

This had the third and subsequent artillery salvos fall right into the center of the enemy formation.

Spotting became harder and easier. There was more smoke and fire, but there were also fewer trees in the way. "Three Villeneuve down. Repeat, three Villeneuve down," I stated.

Falccus shifted a bit ready to use his rotary cannon in case some of the survivors went in our direction.

"Scrying data confirms," the Countess stated.

"Confirm, ceasing firing sequence. We hope you are pleased with your bombardment order," the Istarii Centurion added with a bit of levity.

"Guns have stopped, you are clear to go in," the artillery leader said after a moment.

"Understood." The Countess's controlled tones did little to hide the obvious relish in her voice as she led her Flight right into the harrowed remains of the enemy formation.

From our position we could not see the camouflaged forms of Diamond Flight. Only watch the smaller, but more pinpoint, attack runs. They were using a lot of anti-infantry fire.

I gave a tiny shake of my head. There was something... arch about sending Ritual Plate to finish off an anti-air unit after artillery had killed the very launchers that were supposed to protect them. There were a few desultory launches from the odd man-portable missile tube. But without the ability to fire a lot of missiles and give coordinated direction it came to little end.

However, my sympathies for people facing the wrath of demonic imperialists was mitigated by the fact that they were, for now, on my side. And having Diamond Flight kill them meant it was one less fight I had to slog through on this miserable night.

"Glad for the assist," Varro stated after Diamond Flight finished their attack runs. He then went to the private channel with just the three of us.

I glanced at the map. The enemy repositioning could spell trouble for us. "We might need more air support," I noted.

"And they are more precise than the cannon-cockers," Falccus stated

"Well, stay out. When the demons get into their tail-measuring contests it's best to pretend you didn't notice and find somewhere else to be," Varro cautioned.

We broke contact and silently marched up the slope away from the shattered enemy formation. After confirming that we had not been followed, we paused to look over the map and call in to our commanding centurions.

"Good work you three," Centurion Otho said; it was surpassingly quiet in the background of her audio feed.

"Have we confirmed these enemy movements?" Varro asked before giving a set of coordinates for a multi-century formation that was looking to stage before they started probing our temporary firebase. They were dispersing which was a good tactic to avoid getting everyone hit by artillery, but would run into limits the closer they got.


"Air assets are pretty confident but we've been providing target data for another force coming up to the East," Otho admitted. "This one still has mortar and air defense assets."

I kept in a sigh. The Legions made a lot of use of air support and combined arms, but at their heart they were airborne troops. Which meant frequent opportunities to be outnumbered and surrounded.

And Scouts and Recon teams were even more at risk of this. And two reduced Recon teams were effective, but they had stripped off their Auxilia Scouts and thus could not get as close to the enemy. Though they did have numbers and more grenadiers.

Falccus looked to Varro and myself and he gave a resigned shrug.

"We can scout this formation. Find out where their leadership is, or something critical. Make it so our artillery isn't just pummeling random troopers," Varro offered. A curtain barrage was a valid proposal, especially when the enemy got closer and thus their total frontage shrank.

However, with only four Arachne guns. The enemy could push past that, if they were willing to soak the losses, especially if they had a flanking attack. Not to mention our guns had a limited supply of ammunition all of which had to be flown in. Though the VTOL pilots and their load mistresses were very skilled at field resupply and air drops.

There was a pause as Otho consulted with others. "You think you three can keep making use of Diamond Flight?"

"What's their status?" Varro asked.

"They got a field refueled and rearmed; they should be good."

Varro chuckled. "Then I'll keep 'em."

"Confirm, Diamond, you hear that?"

"Of course," the Countess stated.

"Understood, best of luck to your girls," Varro told Centurion Otho.

"And best of luck to your lads," she said back.

Varro then requested and made contact with the Istarii Centurion in charge of the artillery guns. He explained our plans and gave some coordinates of our planned route.

"Cutting it a bit close, but I can drop the priority for that enemy formation," she admitted. "I'll adjust fire, and go in the keep out zones, but if they have a paranoid commander they'll notice if we stop pummeling part of their lines."

"Understood," Varro agreed. "We'll update you if we get hung up, and make sure to find you something good."

"My girls or Diamond's?" the Istarii Centurion lightly asked

"There is more than enough enemy for all of us," the countess noted.

I shivered in the rain. In a way it was worse when DiamondDust was collected. It was one thing for the demons to kill in bloodlust, it was another to see them dispatch enemies of the House with cold and calculated reprisals. The countess was the type of demon who could oversee a decimation and come up with efficiency improvements, or devote energy to logistical improvements of other punishments.

I shrugged. It could be worse. Varro concluded his setup with our fire support.

We resumed our quick march through the forest. Diamond Flight kept their patrol over the landing zones providing immediate support while keeping the ability to come to us when called.

The terrain grew a bit rockier before we came to a tributary of the river that my companions had experienced their first air support from Diamond Flight.

I glanced at Varro as we neared the first Diluvian pickets. He shook his head. We could have quietly killed them but their absence would be noticed. .

We also had to trust the focus and diligence of artillery crews to keep to a schedule and move their fire. I was less worried as this formation was being subject to a more harassing fire than a focused curtain. Maybe it would lull the enemy into thinking the Legionaries were running low on ammunition, or that they did not have a clear idea where the Diluvians were.

Which was not entirely false. Target differentiation was the reason the demons had sent the three of us out her to sniff out something worthy of hitting.

Falccus gave me a baleful look and an inquiring hand signal followed by one for enemy and then priority.

Altogether, it meant he was asking what special units I thought we were going to find.

I shrugged and gave a signal with that same noncommittal sense. It was possible that this was just a mob of infantry with nothing more exotic than some support machine guns.

But that would mean this was the diversionary formation. Or maybe the Diluvians decided to go with a demon-wave attack.

Falccus snorted and gave the hand-sign for mage.

That was fair; casters were useful, if rare. They also had a lot of combat power and until they started spell-slinging they looked normal, at least from the air under the cover of heavy foliage. Though paranoid wizards would make it a point to dress like normal troopers.

I returned with the signal for grenadier. They were a less flexible and powerful talent and thus Diluvians could have scrapped together more of them. I was not sure this was a big enough effort to put in a lot of mage support on the part of the enemy.

We avoided another group of troops and once they had passed, moved on and ascended up a spur of stone that was only partially covered by plant-growth. This region had a mix of steep watersheds and rock formations close to the surface. It made for rather nasty terrain. The area we were in acted as a bit of a funnel. Not enough for our artillery to use as a chokepoint, especially with the Diluvians only pushing part of their force through at a time.

However small ridges like this would give us some extra concealment. The elevation would help. The canopy was a bit higher here, reflecting that the trees were quite as closely spaced due to the greater rock content in this part of the jungle Also only the most dedicated Diluvian patrols could climb up every rock shelf an hillock, especially when they were being driven forward to stage and attack a Legion position.

Varro motioned for Falccus to take one side, myself another and he would face the main enemy axis of advance. The enemy had spread out and we caught glimpses of their vanguard moving all around us. Taking some water, Varro settled in.

I saw what were likely a couple Diluvian scout teams amble by. Lightly equipped, they were quiet in their water-resistant tunics, shorts, and high leggings. It even looked like they had good boots and kit. I let them pass when it was clear they had missed our presence. Afterwards I clicked my comms and slowly gave the hand signals for enemy, scouts, and number.

I got two clicks in response indicating they had seen my motion. A bit later Varro saw an infantry formation of reasonable size. After that Falccus detected some troops who were heavily loaded with supplies. If he saw anything especially critical in their loads he did not make a note of it.

I frowned. Soon enough Varro would have us move to a new hide.

My nostrils flared as I spotted what looked like another group of Diluvian scouts. However despite their light carbines and armor they moved with clumsy motions. Their footsteps were heavy as if laden. Tails were also limp and wings fluttered a bit.

They were either extremely fatigued scouts or total greenhorns. Both were possible, but something seemed off. They were a rather large scout squad which made sense for a group of tender-hooves. However... they should have had a commander keeping them to task.

Maybe she was killed.

I was about to let the miserable group trudging in the rain go past with another common hand-signal. I was already making plans to take them out as a sort of consolation prize when we moved to our next position.

Then the rain went from a downpour into a deluge. Just as the group passed under an area where the canopy thinned. And there was a shimmering flicker around the "scouts". It was nothing more than a bit of ghost-light. Something just about any demon could make, but something no one would make in a combat zone.

It was just a moment. Then the minute shimmer was gone. Their Veils held.

But that meant they were using Veils. The whole group was casting illusion magic.

I clicked my comms and gave the hand signal for mages. Great Maker, Falccus would never let me hear the end of this.

Exhaling, I made sure my own magic was concealing myself as well as possible. If those "scouts" were who I suspected they were, they would have enough skill to burn through our own concealing spells. But that would require them to suspect we were here, and that much arcane emissions would get detected by Legion air assets.

Or if not that then their magical assault on us would certainly show up.

I switched the channel on my comms and typed out the coordinates and summary of the enemy formation. At least we have found something. There were several fairly sound reasons to clumping up a quarter century of Mage assets.

They were all rather ominous. The least of which was that some of their casters were good at air defense wards and long range evocation spells and thus the formation could protect themselves. Numbers would even allow for rotating their personnel and mutual support. More worrying was that they had trained to cast as a group very high power rituals that required that much magical power.

There was also the cost. Even if only half of the team were high level Mages it was still a considerable wager of resources. They had to have a target beyond just that temporary firebase. Which implied that the enemy was confident they could take it out and keep these assets intact for the next target.

Hence them marching under Veil even when they assumed they were alone in the forest.

"Confirm Auxilia Scouts. Excellent find, Lares. Shall we ruin their clever plan?" the countess's voice purred.

A part of me felt some primitive relief in the act of finding some other poor saps to sacrifice to the BlackSkyvian war machine. The polite, professional, efficient little countess was an ideal avatar of the Imperial Legions and their bloody ethos.

"Collating data," the countess noted. "Flight Ops, what support can we call upon? I have ground scouts on the channel and they've found a pretty ominous enemy formation."

"Confirm, Diamond Actual." the smooth voice or the dispatcher said. "We're a bit strained for assets at the moment. The rest of your Squadron is still tied up with that convoy Strike."

I could just imagine that Countess wanted to grumble but she would never do that on a live channel. "Understood. Arachne Tormenta, what's your capacity?" she asked the Istarii Centurion.

"We're a bit pressed," the artillery officer admitted. "We'll have more of a reserve once we get another load of shells in."

"Flight Ops, what is in the area? What about the Flight watching Landing Zone 2?" the Countess asked.

"I'll see if I can. I already have to divert Umbra 05 so they don't over-fly the enemy mages."

The channel was quiet for a moment.

"What is Umbra 05 carrying?" I asked, typing out the question.

++++++

I smirked as Lares's inquiry floated on my display. The Auxilia scout had a devious mind and if we were lucky. "Flight Ops?"

"Hold steady Diamond. Patching in with Umbra 05 to confirm."

"This is Umbra 05," the Ventus Centurion drawled in an easy Danum provincial accent. "We have two pallets of Legionary Units of Fire munitions, a pair of Marius Mules with Vel launchers, four sets of rocket reloads and two pallets of Arachne shells."

"Flight Ops, I am requesting an expedient munition drop." My smirk grew. "Umbra 05 can your Load Mistress release one of the artillery pallets?"

The line was quiet for a moment. I took the opportunity to check with the rest of my Flight. We had gotten our various power-cells swapped out earlier at the little firebase we had made so other than physical fatigue and minor suit damage our status was good.

And the Fleet and Legions had various ways to keep Pilots focused for long duration missions.

"One of the pallets is by the ramp," the Ventus Centurion stated. "But it doesn't have a parachute onto it."

"Good, I would have had you remove it anyway," I stated.

"Flight ops?" the Umbra's Pilot inquired

Meanwhile the Istarii Centurion gave a twisted little chuckle. "Impatient, are we little Diamond?"

"Will it work?" I asked.

"They might not go off. We do try to make our warheads stable, the propellant might ignite, depends on how high you want to drop it. Worst case they'll all scatter and you'll have to detonate them manually. But it would make a pretty mess," the artillerist gleefully said.

I kept in a sigh. "Flight Ops, what about a Torpedo strike?" A Fujiwara aerial Torpedo could make short work of even that many Wizards, especially without scouts providing targeting data.

"Those assets are not available at this time," Flight Ops admitted.

I suppressed a curse. Even a corvette squadron would have at least thirty Torpedoes. I'd take a single Torpedo bomber at this moment.

"But, your plan has been authorized," the dispatcher allowed. "Umbra 05 you are cleared."

"Confirm. Who do you want us to drop a load of artillery shells on?" the VTOL Pilot asked, managing to keep most of the wariness out of her voice.

Checking the uplink, I sent her the target coordinates and made sure Lares could update them. "Ground scouts detected two to three Contubernium of Diluvian Mages."

To her credit the Pilot took that in stride. "I am requesting control of our own altitude corridor for the drop and escort." She added.

"Confirm, we are rendezvousing with your position," I stated, transferring a new flight path to the rest of my Flight.

"Understood Diamond Flight." There was a pause. "My Load Mistress is confident she can land the pallet on target."

"Level drop or dive?" I inquired.

"Diamond, I'm flying a truck full of munitions and dropping four dozen artillery shells on what twenty combat wizards? I'll be using a dive to maximize velocity, but the release is still going to be high up."

"How good is your Load Mistress' thaumaturgy and kinetomancy?" I inquired.

"CopperFang's skill is the only reason I didn't object to this mad-plan."

"That and the chance to see what kind of blast we'll get," Umbra 05's co-pilot said, cutting into the channel.

I was surrounded by war maniacs who wanted to see things burn. "Understood Umbra 05. We'll run escort for you on the run in and make sure the package goes off."

"Appreciated," the VTOL Pilot said.

I switched to the Flight Channel. "Okay, you've all heard the outlines of this plan. Questions?"

"Wouldn't it be better to just saturate the enemy using our Pilum Projectors?" VioletBlood asked.

"If this works, we'll be dropping a thousand pounds of explosives plus propellant," GreyDawn stated. "If this works."

"Have you done anything like this before?" I asked my longest-serving subordinate.

"About a decade back there was a load of Fuel Cells that were used as an improvised incendiary, but for that, there was time to install a detonator and use a chute to slow it properly."

"Is the plan to use our Verutum Launchers to ensure detonation?" Visha asked.

"Correct. And yes, time is not on our side. Lares and his team are already having to change locations to trail the enemy formation. And stay far enough back," I said as we met up with the ascending Umbra and split out Flight into an escorting formation with two of us to port and two to starboard.

We talked a bit more, ironing out as many details as we could and brought in the Umbra Pilot, Co-Pilot, and Load Mistress. Telemetry from Lares and the other Auxilia helped. The wizards had slowed down a bit, possibly being more cautious.

Using Veils to conceal their nature precluded them from deploying wards. A Pilum strike could have gotten them flat-hooved, but I wanted our initial strike to have a bit more impact.

"Starting descent run," the Umbra Pilot said as she tipped her aircraft into a dive and pushed her engines to redline. An Umbra did have their own weapons, but they were mostly to help support a landing operation or to give some defensive firepower against anti-air attacks.

Matching the descent curve, my Flight spread out and focused our passive scrying forward. My attention split between Lares's ground feed and Occultia and other aerial data of the enemy.

This was the tricky part. Semi-active camouflage or no, a seventeen ton , seventy foot long aircraft was not exactly subtle, at least compared to a quartet of Ritual Plate.

Zephyr pushing horizontally aligned engine pods, the Umbra plummeted. "Angle is good. On approach," the VTOL Pilot said with a tiny strain in her voice.

My display provided a good overlay of the enemy's current position and the Umbra's flight path.

Lares' latest message confirmed his team was in position and had hunkered down.

"Rear ramp opening. Reaching critical altitude in Ten. Nine. Eight. Engine pitching now," the Ventus Centurion clearly enunciated.

I saw the VTOL's engine pods rotate down as the thrust went from pushing the fuselage in a forward dive to providing more of a vertical lift component. Flaps and tail surface twisted as the Umbra suddenly leveled and started to nose up.

"Four. Three. Two. One. Drop. Drop. Drop!" The Pilot's voice was strident and on the third drop a large pallet slipped off the tail ramp and plummeted into the empty night.

Rain buffeted the wrapped artillery shells that were cross-stacked with dividers and tie straps.

GreyDawn and VioletBlood split up and put themselves between the enemy and the Umbra while Visha and myself flared to slow our speed and followed after the pallet, at what I judged to be a prudent distance.

"Package is away, good separation," CopperFang, the Load Mistress, said in a satisfied but strained voice. The thaumaturgically linked tag on the pallet did more than link it to CopperFang's will, it also allowed her to provide its location data and projected course which showed up on my display as a green marker with a dotted line.

"Ramp closing. Delivery away; we are out of here," the VTOL Pilot stated as she pushed her engines and rocketed the Umbra, regaining altitude and most of the speed that had bled off.

"Alignment is good," I said after making sure that Lares was still giving current target data.

"This bastard wants to tumble," CopperFang's voice gasped as she focused her will and magic.

"Just put it into that tiny clearing east of that ridge. You can do it." I assured as the projection adjusted a little bit as the load of explosives hammered down. "That's right, keep the line in the square."

My resolution cleared as I focused on the composite scrying feed. I could see little camouflaged figures in the rain who had to be the mage force. This part of the forest had thinned a bit.

Our aim was to get in the middle of the enemy formation. This was also to give us a buffer in case their progress changed speed, or direction, between the release of the pallet and its impact.

And I watched with mute disbelief as four dozen artillery shells managed to land right onto one of the Diluvians.

"That accurate enough for you!" CopperFang shouted over the channel.

But I had little time to process her words as I was already firing.

It all happened in the time it took the Load Mistress to gloat.

The Diluvian mage was crushed and the straps and wraps keeping the pallet's contents together snapped. Artillery shells began to tumble with several embedding into the ground and a few of their propellant sections shearing off. Another couple mages were killed by blunt impact.

We did not wait to see if the shells would detonate on their own.

Visha and I fired our Verutum Launchers and a brace of evocation "pellets" spread out which we then detonated in energetic blasts. Which blew out and sheared through propellant canisters and shell bodies alike.

And then about half a ton of artillery shells went up. The explosions were far from optimized and blew out in a messy irregular sequence. But it was enough to turn that little opening in the jungle canopy into a full blown clearing wide enough to use as a Landing Zone for a Gladius Heavy VTOL.

Provided you moved some of the broken trees, and had an Explosives Team sweep the areas for unexploded ordnance.

"That is a clear hit!" Lares stated in an enthusiastic, but quiet, whisper.

"Diamond Flight! Make the rubble bounce!" I ordered as we dove in. My display still showed a few.. items moving and some other things that were still at least coherent shapes.

After my last fight with a Wizard, I was not taking any chances when dealing with over a dozen of them. Our Pilum Projectors opened up and weapons-fire designed to take out tanks obliterated anything we could see.

After the second strafe run, we flew up to a higher altitude and gave a more active survey. "Clear, no movement detected. Lares, what about your lads?" I asked.

"I think you got them," the Forest Person admitted over the channel. "A lot of the enemy seems upset and they're moving about."

"Do you need any support getting out?" I asked

Lares paused, presumably to talk with the rest of his team. "No, we can manage!" he hurriedly said.

"Self-reliance is a virtue but don't let your pride get in the way," I mildly stated.

"Oh no, we've been more than willing to call for air support, but we can't take all your time; we're moving right now," he added.

"Excellent, I look forward to working with you when we get back home."

"Uh, yeah. Confirm that," Lares agreed.

Having a bit of a grin at some good networking, I changed my comm channel. "Flight Ops this is Diamond Actual. Scratch Two Diluvian Mage Platoons."

"Understood, Diamond Actual. Glad to hear that plan worked out. Umbra 05 managed to land the rest of their supplies at the fire base."

Short one load of artillery shells. Which hopefully can be made up for by a subsequent resupply. "Any change in tasking?" I asked after checking in on the status of my own Flight.

"Yes, Quirinus' Flight completed their Strike mission. You are to rendezvous with the rest of your squadron," the dispatcher said before she forwarded then repeated a set of coordinates.

I kept in my relief. While a part of me enjoyed independent command, that invariably resulted in my Flight being sent to do all sorts of desperate actions to support Legionaries.

Still, I could not appear too excited to be pulled off of Landing Zone duty. "Who will be providing ground support?"

"A dedicated Sarpedona Ground Attack Squadron has been vectored in to support the other elements from FOB EmeraldInferno," Flight Ops replied.

"Understood." Good. Even with my Polyxo in its current configuration was still a bit less well protected and had less ammunition capacity than a Sarpedona. However, I did have a greater performance curve, especially at higher velocities. It was the classic problem of a generalist, or multi-role, weapon system versus an optimized platform.

Compromises had to be made. The Polydora Multi-Role Ritual Plate had, when compared to a dedicated suit, inferior capabilities in the various roles it could be configured in. Where the Polyxo retained near parity in capability, but at a literal cost in a far more expensive suit.

Training was also a factor. A Polyxo Pilot had to be rated in three types of Ritual Plate combat. That required more training time, both in simulator, live exercises, and additionally greater variety of training. Meanwhile a Sarpedona Pilot could focus all her efforts on mastering a specific role. In this case, the wide variety of ground support operations to help Legionary formations.

I was happy to leave things to the true professionals and I went over to the Squadron command channel. "Quirinus this is Diamond Flight; we are moving to join your formation."

"Glad to hear it, Countess," Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus's tone was dry. "I heard you had an unconventional bit of artillery spotting."

"It was a group effort," I stated.

"I'm sure it was."

"How did the convoy strike go?"

"It was productive. While you were being... creative, my Flight was rearming our Lance batteries. As was Mercy's Flight on more conventional fuel and munitions. What is your status?"

"We are green, some mild damage." I said before quickly giving a slightly more detailed summary.

"Went a bit heavy on the Pilum?"

"I did not want to leave an intact Combat Mage force behind," I stated.

"Understandable, good. That's as good use of force as I could have asked for. It took a bit to get you peeled away, but you are one of My Flights."

Sipping some water, I had a moment of pride in her confidence. And then I went cold and had to concentrate a bit to keep my flight vector. "What's the target?"

"You were right, Countess."

That did not reassure me.

"The Diluvians are focusing on the House Crocelli garrison in the town of Vhin. They've made several assaults on the airfield already. And are making a concerted push."

"Was all of this a flanking maneuver on their part?" I asked.

"Possibly, maybe they wanted to hit Vhin from two fronts. Maybe they wanted to position troops to block us from providing support. They had enough missile batteries to make things awkward for us if you didn't help take out the lion's share."

"Enemy air assets?" I inquired studying the tactical data we have over Vhin.

"At least a squadron of Cadiz Ritual Plate. The garrison forces drove them off which implies either the Diluvians are being sensible or they were waiting for a solid push."

"Could be either way," Mercy added, the Primus of Second Flight chiming in.

She was right. House Crocelli had some Alecton-sourced Archer Ritual Plate at that Garrison. The Archer was an easy to fly, cheap to maintain, budget model, by RP standards, which for low level work was sufficient. And the Cadiz was House Trosier's equivalent.

Except, unlike being a purpose built low-cost efficiency export, as was the Archer, the Cadiz was an earlier generation training and ground support Ritual Plate. It was one of House Trosier's first domestically produced models, built with no small help from House Ziox. Their designers and mages took the reasonable step of making a simple and robust design, but unlike subsequent generations, the Cadiz lacked the modularity, and thus ability to take future upgrades, that was a hallmark of serious Ritual Plate designs.

"Trosier does have warehouses full of the things, and training only eats up so many a year," I noted.

"It's not just Trosic leftovers. Our Occultia friend detected what might have been emissions from a Flight or two of Zioxan suits."

"They are providing training, why not hardware? Greida, Satori or even Tjardu?" I asked, picking some common House Ziox models. The Greida was their previous generation ground attack model which had been relegated to a trainer. Unlike Trosier, they did not have a massive stockpile of this model, as they had quickly moved onto building its replacement, the more capable and flexible Satori, which could work as a ground support unit with some strike capacity. The Tjardu was less likely as it was their latest air-superiority model; it was more expensive, and thus more surprising to encounter out of Zioxan hands but it was still a possibility.

"At least some were Greida, but some had emissions and performance curves that exceeded the standard output of that model," Quirinus promptly replied.

"Have Harmonia or equivalent assets been requested? Should they?" I asked. It was always nice to be in a military where asking superiors questions was encouraged. As this channel was limited to Quirinus and her Flight leaders there was no undermining of her authority in front of the rest of the squadron.

"My, you are a thorough one," Quirinus mused as my Flight moved into position, giving her a full squadron once more.

"She does have some experience with Trosic suits," Mercy noted.

"More than some,"
Primus Caenis, Quirinus' wingwoman, and her assistant in running First Flight, said.

It was always good when someone else touted your accomplishments. I studied the updated map of Vhin and the Garrison. It was easy to fall into the illusion of omniscience, especially when an Occultia was in theater.

"That we're seeing Zioxan hardware is new. Plus, I just spent the night helping blow up a lot of Trosic material and two Diluvian Mage Platoons - meanwhile you took out a whole convoy. The enemy is willing to spend a lot tonight."

"You think this isn't just them sending some Ritual Plate to erode the air base?" Quirinus was skeptical. During our time in FOB EmeraldInferno we had taken out a lot of Diluvian RP Pilots. But, Quirinus was professional enough to not discount the enemy's capabilities in her eyes, despite our earlier successes. The Diluvians were fighting for what they considered their land, and to force out foreign occupiers. That their efforts were supported by other Great Houses, and that they had a clear resource-rich asset they could profit from if they won were beside the point. The Diluvians were motivated and had managed to survive despite reprisals from House Crocelli.

"Maybe not just that, but I saw enough Toulon missiles and their Villeneuve. I think they mean to contest their airspace, maybe do more than that locally."

"Things are tight, but you raise a good point," Quirinus allowed. "I'll see what I can get out of Flight Ops. I'll share my preliminary plan based on what we know of the enemy and see what you all can find. I'll then link into Crocelli's comms but they've been having troubles."

I kept in a sigh. Our esteemed local allies supposedly had a capable communications system. It was equipment they had purchased from House Alecto, but even with Alecton assistance their maintenance and procedures were not up to Great House standards.

Primus Caenis, Primus Mercy Gabinus, and I looked over the map and made a few points, having some quick back and forth.

"It's a problem of goals and capability," Caenis said. "We're not here to fight this far for them."

I held my tongue at that. I had lifetimes of history of seeing Imperialistic powers trying to hold onto satraps subject to internal revolution. Win or lose, it ended up a mess. On the upside both House Alecto and House BlackSky seemed to be rather rational in aims and scope.

"The Eastern Interior Confederation is not our problem," Mercy stated. "But if the Vhin Garrison falls that will make multiple of our Forward Operating based open to flanking and possibly encirclement."

Which would then reduce the defense in depth we had around the Emma Mine Complex and the Oraje Refinery. The main reason why House BlackSky cared, and even a major contributor to Alecto's interest. Concessions from the rare metals the mine produced were a major source of hard currency that House Crocelli used to purchase arms, mostly from Alecto. BlackSkyvian weapons were a bit too expensive for their tastes, as were much of Alecto's catalog.

"The ground support and strike elements we can do are limited. Even if we get solid comms with garrison forces, they simply have not been trained to work with us," I reminded. It was a point of pride that the Imperial Legions integrated calling down air support at the lowest possible levels. Ritual Plate was assigned organically at the cohort level, which meant that a bog-standard Centurion had a pool of RP to often as not call down fire to support her Century and to help coordinate air defense.

Few Great Houses had as much airpower, let alone Minor Houses.

"At least we're all passable in Bantish," Mercy allowed. Due to their close Alecton ties, House Crocelli had Bantish as one of their official languages, and used it as their official military tongue.

As such, we had been given a crash course as part of our familiarization training before our transfer to this theatre. Thankfully the Alecton language had enough similarities to Dutch that myself and Visha could use our knowledge of Germanian as a vague bootstrap. Also growing up in Amber Island did give her some experience. Meanwhile, VioletBlood was already fluent due to having private tutors, and GreyDawn had already served multiple tours alongside Alecton forces.

"Yes, yes, and we are allowing for a far greater margin this time," Caenis said, a bit stiffly.

"Agreed." I wondered if her attitude was due to if the worst happens and there was friendly fire on our part, it would be Minor House soldiers dying. Despite being nearly as wasteful, Black on Blue fire was mentally easier to accept than Black on Black. "However, I would think a force heavier Harmonia or other air superiority configured suits would be better suited."

"Alas, we are what is available," Quirinus stated as she returned to the channel. "Flight Ops has a Harmonia Squadron refueling and rearming and will be sent back up. Upside, the brass horns are worried that the Diluvians have built up or purchased more airborne assets. Downside, they're still thinking where the Diluvians will be using them."

"Having us weaken the defenses around the refinery by committing our squadrons elsewhere could be their goal," I noted. It was a rather cold-blooded way to fight, sacrificing your own units to draw out the enemy, but Oraje was a massive complex and one that was of very high value.

"Hence the concerns. Still, there is motivation to helping the Vhin Garrison." Quirinus paused to go over our plans and made a couple adjustments and confirmed we knew them. The plans were all very fluid. At the moment there was something of a lull in combat around Vhin. "Okay, disseminate to your Flights. For the moment, my Fight will be reserving our Lance capacity, which means targets of opportunity will be key. But remember the Garrison's own forces will be doing attack runs."

I then switched to my Flight channel and briefed them, as well as adjusting our vectors and having us take the leading edge of the Squadron's formation.

"We're going to be the ones doing the target scouting," GreyDawn noted.

"Our Flight does all have Gorgon Rigs," VioletBlood stated.

"Obviously," I said, not at all waspishly.

"Primus, how concerned should we be about the possible Zioxan Ritual Plate?" I had to give Visha credit, she was able to present my main concern in a way that did not undermine the chain of command and reflected her own experience.

"Reasonably. While I can see why the Diluvians would want something better than a Cadiz, a Zioxan suit would require more retraining." While there was a lot of commonality between Zioxan and Trosic Ritual Plate in design and development history, jumping from one House's suits to another's was a steep learning curve, especially for green Pilots.

"Then... mercenary pilots?" Visha asked as we started to approach Vhin. The town was beside a river and served as a natural crossroads with the Garrison looming above it on a clear-cut hilltop, complete with a pair of runways cut into the leveled and graded terrain.

"Expensive, but if they only want them for a mission or two, it could be worth it," VioletBlood allowed. Our formation had spread out, to maximize the intake from our Gorgon Rigs. While our suits were not perfectly invisible, especially with the pounding rain, our passive scrying intake was still enough to add more resolution to the composite tactical display.

One upside of the torrential downpour meant that Vhin was not going to burn down. It was disheartening and wasteful that one of the Diluvian advances was coming through the town itself. And in avoiding the ground attacks from the Garrison's Archer RP suits, fixed-wing aircraft, and light artillery, they had gone into various residential and commercial buildings. Which had done little to deter House Crocelli.

It was a mess.

But despite being outnumbered the Garrison seemed to be holding. Though they had just lost a ground attack aircraft to a swarm of Toulon missiles.

Lovely.

After tying in the Flight leader channel, Quirinus raised the Garrison's flight controller. Her Bantish was clipped and professional as she updated our position and status to the local forces. And then the rest of her Flight Leaders did the basic handshakes to link up with the Garrison.

It was rough and ready but at least it kept us from having to call our Flight Ops and then have Flight Ops talk to the garrison.

Ominously, the Garrison's flight controller did not have much new information to give us; worse, she sounded nervous.

"There is a heavy mortar battery, but its got some air defenses," the Garrison's dispatcher awkwardly said. It could only be partially blamed on her own limited command of Bantish. Still, she managed to give the coordinates with clarity.

And they did match up with an enemy location on our display. On the far side of the river and a bit upstream, the Diluvian position was outside of the range of the quite anemic light field guns of the Garrison. Their fire was rather inaccurate at that range, but seemed of little concern.

"Okay girls, we'll go with Option 2," Quirinus stated after switching to just the Squadron channel.

I talked with my own Flight on our channel. We were to be at the front and would act as a screen to take out the enemy's long range air defenses, while allowing for two members of Flight 1 to come in for a Lance Strike.

We had just started to change vector, when a heavy squadron or Ritual Plate took to the air. I frowned as our Gorgon Rigs helped resolve what they could from the scrying intake.

"We have Zioxan suits. Based on those climb rates and that emissions control we're seeing Satori or Tjardu models," I calmly stated, ignoring the growing apprehension in my stomach.

"Confirm, Diamond," Quirinus stated. "Change of plans."

And then a transmission came over the Open Channel. The one that used an unencrypted protocol known to all the Diyu Houses. "Countess DiamondDust, you killed my sister," a voice purred in Silvan Latin with a slight Zioxan accent.

I blinked. No. How would she even find me? And why spend so much effort on a personal grudge?

"Is this that Samoth woman CSR warned you about?" GreyDawn asked over a private channel. "She actually went mercenary?"

"Don't be so shocked," Samoth Rodswor laughed. Well, she sounded enough like the War Mistress. "There are only so many all-Polyxo Legion Squadrons in the Eastern Interior Confederation. You ruined my family name so you could scramble out of the muck. I intend to return the favor."

I sighed. And all it would take would be getting a picture of one of us without a helmet on at FOB EmeraldInferno or maybe even on leave.

"Primus DiamondDust," Quirinus pointedly said over the squadron channel. "Much as I love it when military matters are sidelined by nobility with hurt feelings. I trust we will all take out this dilettante out for revenge with little fuss? No sword or fireworks this time?"

The Zioxan Ritual Plate squadron leveled out and took up a reasonably coherent formation. Depending on their equipment, they might have the edge on us in maneuverability and air to air power. They also had the advantage of an anti-air system behind them, which, if properly integrated, gave them a severe positional advantage.

However, that this Samoth was using psychological warfare as a first move indicated a degree of pride or desperation.

"You could blow her out of the sky with a Skofnung stuffed full of Vel Missiles for all I care." Grinning to myself, I exhaled, knowing I was speaking to the whole squadron. There was no need to actually talk back to the enemy. If they expected a head-to-head duel then House Ziox really had no comprehension of how House BlackSky actually conducted war.

"Tell you what: whoever kills this blowhard, I'll cover your drinks for the next time you get a three-day pass. And..." I purred. "If I manage to kill her, then I expect all of you to chip into the squadron coffee fund, no more of the cheap stuff."

End Chapter 12


Well... if it isn't the consequences of Tauria's actions. (And I'm not just talking about the late War Mistress). In this chapter I wanted to show exactly why the Forest People were so valued as Scout Auxilia by House BlackSky (to where they were given dispensation to retain their ancestral lands) and show more of just the total mess that such "bushfire" wars can be.

Special thanks to especially to DCG, Ellf, Green Sea, Readhead, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

And special thanks to Readhead for the pallet drop idea.

Update: And we are now 3/4 done with this little re-update package. It's gotten easier given as time passed I had more and more people actually helping me edit this thing.
 
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"Snippet" 3: Not one Step Further or... Buying Time.
Not one Step Further

So, given the previous two snippits were at the first of April and March.... I figured I could go for another.
Though.... we may be pushing the limit.

This is set futher into the whole Battle of Chicago.

And this time the POV is from a Household Fleet Telephe pilot
+++

Not one Step Further

The Titan was impatient.

She had grown tired of harassing attacks by the Legions and the systematic destruction of their scouts and Huntsmen. Probes had been repulsed and our forces had been able to land in good order.

Supposedly a band of Jotun had been routed by a Troop of Vestal Light tanks reinforced the Einherjar, 2 Senior Wizards, and Dame BlackStone. A human cemetery had been hit by a barrage from an entire artillery maniple after necromancy was discovered and Praetor DawnStrike assaulted it with a group of Broadcast Recon, and again Dame BlackStone was there.

As an Avalon class Heavy Carrier the HFV Valhalla held an entire Ritual Plate Group, nearly four hundred pilots. Including the Countess' Hellions, who were good enough Pilots for Legionaries.

We were the 6th Squadron of the 4th Wing of the 23rd Air Group in First Home Fleet. My Zephyr pushed me forward as my armored wings trimmed back. Scanning the ground that scrolled below us, I saw flickering fires and dark streets.

Human cities were not normally this dark. The Titan had changed that. All the power systems, electrical and magical had been destroyed in the Titan's first strike. Though with her own forces in the city, she seemed loath to repeat that tactic.

Along with our sisters of the 5th Squadron and the 8th Squadron of the 3rd Wing, we bore stolid Telephe Pattern suits. It was a legion joke that the Telephe had the best bodices of any Ritual Plate and the second most complimentary hip armor, especially the bomber variant.

The Telephe was less nimble than the Harmonia air superiority suit, but more agile than the Sarpedona ground support model which was about as close to a brawler as a high-speed enchanted armored suit could be.

Though tonight everyone not protecting fleet assets or escorting landing craft was in a ground support role. The War College Boffins and prim Librarians were not willing to write off the Enemy's anti-air capabilities. Enough of Fomor casters had ranged capabilities that could take out a suit that got too close or too slow.

And the Fomor started out the battle with an impressive number of small, but lethal squid-like fliers but, according to rumor, Dame BlackStone had rallied her own air troops to take them out. Which was mighty convenient if true.

Either way, the Boffins were only willing to strip down the fleet's protective squadrons so much to increase our ground support. There was a chance the Fomor had some sort of anti-air capability and our ships would be very vulnerable without their fighter screens.

In any case, the somewhat more lumbering Sarpedona were more than earning their keep in helping Infantry Cohorts pound Fomor ground positions. Again the Legionary Fliers were earning their keep.

In all honesty, our Telephe Ritual Plate was a heavier version of the Harmonia with elements of the Polydora all-arounder. Built with more warding and a stronger set of enchantments to have more forward thrust from the Zephyr and an increased power capacity for the evocation Lances, the Telephe was the primary long ranged strike platform.

Despite all that, we Telephe were not idle. The enemy had plenty of high-value targets: logistical hubs, command posts, arcanist spell-slingers, or simply troop concentrations that were valuable enough to warrant strafing by a strike squadron, but not valuable enough to get a Torpedo lobbed at them. Even a bombardment flotilla could run empty if the cruisers and torpedo bombers gave enough fire missions.

Our Squadron was currently circling in a large oval circuit midway between the city and the Valhalla as a ready deployment. The Valhalla was positioned well inland of the burning remains of a major airfield. A large number of the local's aircraft had gone down when the Titan had crippled the city's systems. It was harrowing to see so many large fuselages burning. Intact they must have been elegant, if brutishly large, planes.

Apparently, spare landing craft from the Valhalla and her escort ships were rendering aid, and dropping a couple engineering centuries.

Last we heard, the casters were trying to get some of the runways cleared. Either as a position in case our assets needed to land, or as a base for local reinforcements. We didn't know which way it would go. Rumor was that the indigenous fixed wing assets were incoming and Flight Ops was already coordinating.

Of the 12 of us in the Squadron, myself, Valerie, and Celeste were fitted with Gorgon scrying rigs. The joke was, since we had the largest horns, it fell on us to bear the burden of the enhanced sensor suites that clasped over our helmets and faceplates with extendable antennae and other enchantments.

In all seriousness, doctrine was to have one member of each Flight setup with Gorgon rigs. That was one thing I agreed with that bloodthirsty Legion Countess, the brass horns were dragging their hooves on pushing the next upgrade of our scrying systems. Her Demi-wing had already launched and there were rumors she was in the city's university district doing some sort of skullduggery with Broadcast Recon.

Still I made sure to make the most of our capabilities.

I had zoomed in on the dark street below, filling part of my helmet display. The eerie light that flickered closer to the shore and the low clouds of smoke had started to drift over. Fires from the airport were coming in from the other direction. Cars littered the road, so it had not been that full when the Titan released her pulse attack. I idly confirmed, that my scrying telemetry was being sent back to the Valhalla. While what I was looking at now did not seem to be any tactical value, it was good to confirm the system was working. And who knew what those clever girls could come up with.

The Gorgon's audio pickups were not perfect but it was enough to confirm the road below us was silent. The main noise was the thunder-like cracks of artillery towards the heart of the city.

That thought chilled me. That was a lot of heavy ordnance being used in a densely populated area. On the other hand we were a lot of heavy ordnance, and we had gone on three strike missions already with our suits just being refueled and rearmed.

My attention went up to the partial cloud cover. In the dark they were sullen shapes that reflected the fires beneath them and combined with the drifts of ash made it obvious how some of the Imperatrix's Daughters earned their names. My helmet Display helpfully gave an overlay of the various vessels.

The Flight Leader had more powerful, and difficult to control, Zephyr for greater maneuverability. Primus GreenBlade was not quite as agile as a Harmonia dancer, but she could take out anyone who jumped us before they lived long enough to tell the difference. And the remaining two Flight members Clarissa and Felicity carried extra lance batteries, having two more of the armored conformal flasks with their dense arrays of sullen, runes along their torsos. The rest of us only had four. Those pods contributed to the bodice comments Telephe Ritual Plate earned.

I exhaled and debated taking a sip on my drinking tube. The chatter from my Flight was subdued. We were thinking it would not be long before we were called to help put out some brush fire. Though the Fomor was starting to learn that congregating large numbers would start a timer before something heavy was set their way.

Instead, we were to be sent to strike the most High Value of targets.

++++

We had expected the Titan to attack the Svartalfheim embassy. It was a fixed position closer to the Lake and thus to the Fomor's main body, their lines of communication, and supply. It was also where the artillery batteries that had shelled the Fomor's beach landings was positioned.

The Embassy formed a lynchpin to much of the East-West defensive line. With enough defense in depth, it served as a landing zone for our largest transports ever since the initial drop. Meaning the embassy had been reinforced by many flights of Pugio VTOLs filled with armored vehicles, munitions, supplies, and Tormentas of artillery.

There were at least 2 reinforced Arachne batteries at the Embassy. They were serving as one of the main fire-support reserves. Unlike the artillery units with the Cohorts closer to the front, which had to constantly change position, these could provide persistent support and had a greater number of tubes to call upon. And since they were not moving they could have a greater number of shells to call upon.

But with the strategic risk of providing a centralized, mostly fixed asset. Despite assurances from the boffins to a lack of Fomor capability, counter battery fire was an evergreen concern.

The grapevine that quietly chattered through our dispatchers in Flight Ops back on the Valhalla even whispered a few Torpedo ground launchers might have been deployed. Which seemed an odd spending of cargo capacity, but that was the rumor.

Regardless, no sensible commander would push through and leave a fortified position like that in her rear. As long as the Embassy stood, it was a prickly firebase that could hit the flank and rear of the Fomor lines as they advanced southward and westward.

Thus there were mutters when the calm voice of the too young sounding Flight Ops in our ears informed us that the Titan came with a Fomor Host of at least 7 unruly cohorts. Though there were 5 more immediately behind that reserve, bringing to a reinforced legion strength.

We had expected her to be at the front of an attack. But not quite the target she had picked.

In the Imperatrix's name, we had fought enough House wars to guess the overall strategy. The Fomor had numbers. They had ground troops, They even had an impressive number of combat casters, about a Mage Company in support. But without the Titan they had a severe deficiency in heavy ordnance.

The Boffins, Librarians, and Legates wanted her to take the Field.

And they got their wish, but war is a Democracy, the enemy gets a vote.

I exhaled and glanced over the Display projected from my eye-lenses. Systems, enchantments, and spirits were nominal. Power was good and the Flasks for my Lances were steady.

A simple chime went off on our com channel; that indicated deployment orders, and the young Flight Coordinator started talking in a crisp, calm official voice that was far from the more openly playful tone she used when giving gossip.

Instead of hitting the prepared lines of the Embassy, the Titan was attacking from the North on the western part of our lines, far from the lake.

Her target, the 12th Legion Severitas which had been attempting to flank around and contain the Fomor's inland, and possibly northern, expansion.

The too calm, too young-sounding, she was probably only a few years out of the academy, dispatcher directed our squadron. Of course she was calm, her position was somewhere deep inside the Valhalla's Combat Center.

It sounded like the 12th Legion's Sarpedona suits were providing airborne intelligence, unless there was a Occultia Surveillance RP Suit observing. With more emphasis on veils and an Euryale Scrying system that put my Gorgon rig to shame, and less on weapons, the Occultia was one of the most expensive Ritual Plate patterns.

Which was saying something.

Moreso it took a special kind of mind, above and beyond being able to bond and manage the Zeprhy to handle, organize, and broadcast, the torrent of far-roaming data the Euryale Scrying system took in.

I could find targets, enemies, ground conditions and transmit those to the rest of my Flight, or squadron if need be, even back to the Valhalla, but that was an augment to my strike role. For an Occultia Pilot, her job was to take in the entirety of a front and pre-process the results tagging things of interest to give the Boffins a head start. It was nearly a magnitude of difference in the level of data collected.

Squadron commander Prefect Vorenta gave the order, and we dropped in altitude and started accelerating. After leveling off at a building-buzzing height, we soon surmounted the sound barrier. Other squadrons followed but I concentrated on the dispersal of ours and terrain and target tracking ahead for my Flight.

The four of us were in a diamond formation with Primus GreenBlade in the lead, myself following at her left, and Felicity and Kelly with their extra evocation capacity were on right and aft position respectively.

We were given a lopsided trajectory to follow that would allow for us to accelerate and come in at different angles and at nearly the same time.

Already supersonic, our arc would have us close in, myself, Valerie, and Celeste would confirm the targeting data, that is the Titan. We would fire our Lances and then flicking in sharp turns we would race past, our course never directly passing overhead of the target.

We could then regroup and make for another acceleration, lock-on, attack, and turning run.

Or that was the plan.

Streets, buildings, and blocks raced past us as we closed in. Operationally fighting with our air assets this close to the city was almost like fighting in a water closet. You had to be careful with your wings when you turned.

All of us had a scrying setup that gave a bit of distorted vision with the forward targets looking closer than they really were. However the Gorgon rig made it worst for me.

And that was why within less than a minute of getting our strike orders, I caught sight of a Titan taking on a Legion.

Legions do not fight in neat rows and blocks. That's just for the parade ground. House wars involve combating other succubae. Organized militaries where the basic hoof-slogger has flight, some regeneration, and at least a basic skill in magic. Not to mention that every House that can defend its territory has some form of heavy weapons, indirect fire, and air power.

Thus forces have to be dispersed when possible. Urban combat is worse than an open-field battle in that regard, given how buildings limit avenues of movement and the terrain can be even more broken and littered with choke points.

Thus it was not easy to estimate how much of the 12th Legion remained.

Furthest away from us were the shredded remains of what might have been Infantry Cohort or at least enough Nymphs, Mules and bodies. More than the distance, it was hard to get an idea as an entire group of intersections and surrounding buildings had been blown apart. Not to mention the Fomor was trying to advance, with great difficulty, through that area.

Time spiraled down. My attention went ahead of the beaten zone and spotted the Titan herself.

She was hard to miss.

Head and shoulders taller than anyone else even at this distance her beauty shone in the night. With skin of gleaming bronze, her silver hair flew behind her. Ethniu strode as demon empress, a goddess of old. One eye glinted emerald, while the other was swollen and burned an angry red.

The Eye.

The Eye of Balor.

My suit automatically tripped its heating elements to reduce the chill and my Zephyr picked up on my agitation and my thrust increased a bit as our formation kicked in that much more acceleration.

It helped distract some of my attention from what the Titan was doing.

++++

"Everyone thank Valentina for pointing her out," our Flight leader GreenBlade laconically said as I fed the targeting data to the rest of my Flight. "Lock target; Charge Lances."

I extended my arms as the runes inscribed on my gauntlets flared as the accumulators took in the power from evocation capacitors, the 'flasks" stored around my waist in armored conformal bands that made up my "bodice armor".

Massive, devastating energy transferred from their relatively stable and quiescent storage accumulators to the Lances themselves. In a few seconds they would be a roiling, ardently-flensing power ready to fire.

The Titan had support, perhaps a Century or two of the long-limbed yet bulky warriors the Fomor seemed to like and a squad or two of disturbingly-amphibious-seeming casters.

But she seemed to ignore her escort as she strode forward.

Minerva rotary cannons were not intended for continuous long-term fire. It used too much ammunition and it was better to hit a target then move to the next. Instead I saw no less than a dozen of those guns, on Scorpions, Mules, Nymphs, and Vestals lancing out constant streams of fire.

The First Cohort was double-size and populated by veterans. They seemed to have... at least the bulk of their strength. For now.

Vel missiles launched, mortars fired. Ground attack Ritual Plate circled about and lighting and fire burst out. Not to mention hundreds of rifles and dozens of machine guns. Most of the fire was controlled.

However, most of the time she was too close to a Legionary Position for Arachne to hit her. And it did nothing to slow her.

A cynic might point out that being taken out by our own artillery might be a kinder fate for the Legionaries. The titan was not always quick with her kills. Various golems had been used in a screening role as the remove combat vehicles could be more readily sacrificed and there were nearly drifts of mangled Scorpions.

I focused on keeping the targeting info up to date and sending it to my Flight and the rest of the Squadron.

"Mark the bitch, hit her, then turn. We're the cavalry, we'll get another run" GreenBlade assured.

Out of seeming frustration, Legionaries had adjusted targets and savaged her escorts. The casters tried to put up shields, their heavies tried to take some cover, but a level of fire that their Empress could laugh off scythed through them. More managed to brave the lines in an attempt to support their liege, only to be cut down.

At this airspeed the telescopic view from of the Gorgon rig was more like a collection of snapshots. The imagery rapidly flashed by each a snapshot, each a moment in the battle. It would overwhelm, or at least distract a normal pilot, but we were trained to take in, compartmentalize, and separate vast data.

Maybe not as much as an Occultia Pilot, but unlike them, we were expected to gather intelligence and fight.

The Centuries withdrew by fire team. Their mules and Scorpions were often used to cover their retreats, the remote-operated vehicles being far easier to sacrifice.

She advanced. She could only be in one place, so most got out before she could reach them. The only time she ran was when she sprinted to try and catch any groups that tried to flee instead of fighting to the last.

The Eye fired in angry beams that burned to look at, even through the Gorgon feed. Wards on one Vestal Scout tank held for a moment before popping like a soap bubble and burning through armor. The beam cut through the heavy smoke the vehicles grenades were popping off which at least got time. Releasing their own smoke, the other two in the formation had quickly reversed to behind a building and managed to continue their harassing fire.

The dispersed formation kept it from being a total slaughter. Scout Tanks, Nymphs, Legionaries, even Umbra Medium VTOLs burned. But they were too far apart, the defense in depth was too deep for any attack to kill all of the First Cohort.

The vast majority of the Legionaries managed to withdraw. It was the unlucky or the slower or the brave who got hit. They might not be able to stop the Titan, but she was not able to kill with impunity.

The heaters in my suit kicked on a bit more as we closed in. The next few seconds added more detail to the battlefield. I hoped the boffins were learning from this. I hoped they could separate the horror and make tactical choices.

We had fought powerful beings before. We were part of a strike that took out the 6th Daughter of Grand Admiral Trosier. However, the attack against Virgox the 2nd Eldest daughter of Luxon was less successful. I had personally struck a blow to her, but she did not fall that day.

But this was an inexorable power. The blood and screams were more than even the most intense cauldron, and it was not even, yet, a rout.

"Confirm Lances are free and charged. Max power," GreenBlade stated, her voice utterly professional. Only a few seconds had passed since her last statement. The intention was to use the majority of our power in one Lance strike.

The Titan was also just the center of the battle. The 12th Legion Severitas had 7 more cohorts and they flanked the flagging First Cohort. These were Cohorts of high mobility on Medium VTOLs, more Infantry Cohorts, another light Tank Cohort, and a headquarters unit with artillery and Ritual Plate and other assets.

For the enemy, spreading behind the titan was the Fomor host, roughly 7 Cohorts. Various warbands of human, Fomorian, tentacular, ape-like and various other horrors were pressing. They had more Cohorts of reinforcements coming aright behind them

The battlefield was a quick teacher and they had learned to not group up. While their Mistress could kill any in her sight, she was in only one spot.

Naturally, the Fomor tried to follow behind her.

Across the grave of the luckless Infantry Cohort Ethniu first destroyed, the Fomor attempted an advance.

I say attempted because behind the Titan was a curtain barrage of no less than 2 Arachne batteries. The beaten ground destroyed the dead of that Cohort, but it also thinned out and shattered the Fomor attempting to back up the titan.

This made it so they have to brave that line and cross the barrage and accept the mass casualties, or flank and hit Cohorts that were not being ravaged by the Eye, or wait for the artillery to run out of munitions, or for the Titan to get to those guns.

A two-tone warning chine came over our comm channel.

We had fought powerful beings before, and their main limit was they could only be in one place, they needed conventional troops to exploit breakouts and weaknesses.

The First Cohort of the 12th Legion was dying by inches but it was costing the Fomor for every step.

And then we came in range.

Maybe a minute had passed since the target disposition alert chimed on our communications channels.

My tail adjusted as I trimmed my wings back. Ethniu was terrible and mighty The Gorgon feed made it look like I could reach out and touch her.

And then I did.

The Runes on my gauntlets spilled out beyond my fists. The lenses to my helmet automatically dimmed.

Two blue-white beams of antic power stabbed out from me to the Titan. Each as thick around as my thigh, the lances were joined by the pair GreanBlade fired and four brighter, waist-thick beams Felicity and Kelly and their more powerful evocations had launched

But we were just 1 Flight, of 4 Squadrons.

Nearly a hundred blue-white lances of pulsing destructive power were slammed into the Titan. We came in at different angles and altitudes but our coordination, and training, made it so nearly all hit her, and at almost the exact time.

One moment the Titan stood there her armor shining and her silver hair flying behind her like a banner. She was mid-stride one foot up.

The next moment she was consumed by blue-white beams. Aimed at the right spot a Lance could take out a battleship. It could rend an enemy formation, spear reinforced bunkers. A dozen could overload airship-grade warding shields. And we hit her with a hundred Lances.

Each beam flickered out for less than a second but delivered enough energy to cover her in blinding light as the street boiled around her.

The beams that missed cut through the ground gouging trenches that radiated around her in a flaming starburst. There were a few burned out vehicles and even an overturned truck behind the Titan.

Our attack angles had been set so that any missed shots would hit the Fomor lines instead of ours. The handful of near misses from our attack rendered two Century's worth of Fomor supporting the Titan into smoking ruined meat. Some had used the vehicles to take cover. Some had held a bit further back and tried to use some of the smoldering buildings as cover.

The Lances burned through all of that.

The lucky ones were consumed into charred husks, the unlucky had only parts of their bodies hit by the Lances, leaving burning flailing remnants that slumped the ground.

The Titan herself staggered. Her upraised foot quickly went back and she stumbled as the Lance-light faded revealing metal skin that pinged and shimmered from the heat. An attack that had set the asphalt roadway and concrete sidewalks aflame left her form pristine, save for a drop of blood that trickled down one nostril.

"Break, break, break!" GreenBlade shouted. Zephyr shrieked as our Flights snapped in their turns and started accelerating away from the Titan.

+++

Screaming in affront, another few drops of blood trickling down from her nose, Ethniu raised her gaze. The Eye sliced through the sky.

The 12th Legion's Ground Support RP launched their own attack in an attempt to distract her and cover their infantry's withdrawal.

Our formations spread out and each Flight and took a different vector. The venomous hateful crimson beam scythed through us, as we maneuvered and jinked, but better a handful of Ritual Plate than entire Centuries.

My suit chilled as I and the other Gorgons fed telemetry to the Squadrons. The Eye's path of destruction was overlaid with a flared cone showing the areas of most risk.

There were a few screams on the line as some Pilots were unlucky enough to fall under her immediate gaze. To even see us at this distance in such an awful night showed impressive far-seeing as she tried to knock more of us out.

The beam might be all-powerful but we had fired at maximum range which meant the Eye had a massive half-hemisphere of sky to cover to get all of us. And with every moment we got further and further from her.

The Titan then whipped her head and the Eye flicked towards us.

My heart pounded. "Incoming," I intoned pinging the lower port octant the Eye's attack was coming from.

The Titan's gaze was not a fixed thing, she twitched and adjusted her gaze in response to our maneuvering. Zephyr flared and wings twisted.

I idly noticed the Arachne Artillery had started hitting her directly, but the Titan could not be dissuaded.

Kelly was still in the aft position of our dispersed formation. She suddenly pulled her wings in and dropped beneath the Eye its power just burning her tail. We has spread out so that the Titan should not be able to get all of us, and even if she could the other Flights would make it out.

Felicity followed and twisted but the Eye lifted and speared right through her.

Her scream was shortly lived as her flesh and armor cooked and the psychic backlash from her dying Zephyr hit us.

The imagery and sensations burned into my mind as I rolled over and pushed my Zephyr until the air spirits screamed. Flicking up a wing I rolled over and shifted.

The coldness of my suit suddenly turned to fire as my left wing caught the force of the Eye's Wrath. That entire side was baked and my arm blistered within the armor and the remaining two-thirds drained evocation flasks automatically discharged.

I screamed and the displays went off as my enchantments flicked and I started to fall.

Looking over I saw the Eyes' beam rise up attempting to go after GreenBlade. And then the flasks detonated.

They gave a couple flat thumps that knocked the air out of my chest. I tried to exhale and concentrated. My right arm went to my throat and flicked the armor under my pectoral to hit the manual restart.

The good news was that I could feel my Zephyrs had survived the hit.

There was a hum and the enchantments started to power back up. I concentrated on the spell and the growing line of runes at the bottom of my field of view.

Only then did I look back down to confirm how much altitude I still had.

The dark city rushed up.

Wincing I slowly spread my right wing and started to catch some air. Angling my tail to the left side kept me from entering a spin, but it would be enough to slow down.

Not with half of the joints to my left wing simply gone and the remaining membranes cut to ribbons. Fortunately, I was a Ritual Plate Pilot.

The first thing a pilot had to be able to do was bond with and direct air spirits.

And my Zephyr, while shaken, were alive.

After confirming that my collection of spirits could slow my airspeed I started to look for a landing spot.

Several buildings below me still stood. There was a variety of sizes. Alas I was a bit too far south of the lines and I could not see any friendly forces within range.

Upside, a hard restart was all my Gorgon rig needed to be restored.

Striking a balance between defensibility and observability and egress I quickly evaluated the available landing areas.

And I aimed for the largest flattest roof I could see.

Time was short, and my Zephyr were already bleeding off speed and helping my remaining wing nudge me along. They pushed to slow me down, but increasing thrust was another factor.

The mercantile building was between twenty and thirty stories and had a broad roof with several heating and cooling structures atop. To one side was a round VTOL pad marked with an H.

I ended up landing near the edge and my knees bent taking in the weight as I leaned forward.

Air blew around me and I exhaled. It took a moment to get used to the feeling of ground beneath my armored boots.

I focused on the emergency landing procedure. After checking my perimeter and seeing that I was secure or at least isolated I then took stock.

My wounds were not crippling; I could mostly use my left hand, but I was flight ineffective. Having only one wing did that And there was a fair bit of pain along my torso where I had an explosion go off near me.

Once I was as reasonably sure I was not bleeding anywhere under my armor, or at least not heavily bleeding, I took an injection from the suit's medical pack. The numbing from the targeted analgesics was distracting but far less than the flensed wing, sheared bones, and bruised ribs.

Physically I could be better, even after I regrew my wing, my suit would need to be fixed.

And of my suit, I had no evocation flasks for my Lances, but I had my suite of conventional close-in and stand-off weapons. The Gorgon rig was already functional and my Zephyr were present if upset.

I sipped some water from the drinking tube and snapped open my helmet. Cold, smoky air brushed my face and nostrils as I opened a thigh compartment and started munching on a ration bar.

The helmet had a nutrition tube too, but compared to that "broth" even the most worn old chocolate wafer bar or bland jerky was far more palatable. I chewed thoughtfully, crushing a sugared energy gem between my teeth, thankful my maintenance crew stocked the good stuff as I checked the rest of my suit's systems

The Ritual Plate looked worse than it really was. The outer armor was scorched and there were dents and gouges in the matt grey material and dark blue steel brushed filigree, but the enchantments were solid enough. The biggest problem was that it, and myself, were down a wing.

I was not mono-focused. Getting lost in a status display on the battlefield was an easy way to get killed. Fortunately, I was a skilled multi-tasker, even by Pilot standards. And that's when the trouble started. It was one thing to look out over the ashen, deadened cityscape.

It was another to let the sensation of millions of terrified minds. My hands clenched, armored gauntlets starting to power up as I flexed my knees, the suit responded to my greater tension and I exhaled. This city was insane. It was huge, without power, without magic. Plunged into a nightmare of an unexpected invasion.

I focused on the Gorgon's systems. I could control that feed. There was less... emotion. Less leakage from all the poor people dumped into a battle to the knife, a world of tooth and claw.

I swallowed my snack, took some more water, and looked at the next part of the check list.

All that was left was to check my communication array. I flipped the channel and sending a ping to my Flight Coordination I wondered if the rest of my Flight had made it...

My shoulders shook as I remembered Felicity's screams and relived the echoes of feeling her die. I exhaled. It was not the first time we had lost people. I concentrated. "This is Volantes Centurion Valentina Orbez, 6th Squadron, 4th Wing."

++++

This voice from Flight Ops sounded a lot older to my ear. "This is Valhalla Flight Control, we read you. Condition?"

"Grounded, medically stable, position reasonably secure," I stated as I scanned around the roofline. It couldn't have been more than half a minute since I was hit. The battle was still going on. RP Squadrons were crossing the sky.

"I'm reading that your Gorgon is functional; can you resume telemetry?" There was a pause and before I could answer she came with another question. " Valentina can you confirm your location?"

"Yes Valhalla Flight, sending telemetry now." I then read off some map coordinates based on the building I had landed on.

There was another pause. "Can you get eyes on the Titan?"

Well. So much for getting a Spatha dispatched to pick me up. Yes the local airspace might not be the most safe environment, but if the Titan could be avoided...

But no, I had a mission. "Affirmative," I replied

I crouched a bit further down and made my way further north on the roof. Key was to get a comprehensive view but not silhouette myself. I was high up, but anyone with the right eyes could see someone if they stood on the edge of a roofline.

The Titan was impossible to miss. I was closer than the majority of our strike mission, and I was relatively stationary. Getting a lock on a titanic figure in the midst of combat was trivial.

She had advanced maybe halfway down the block and was now midway between intersections. At the moment no one stood before her, which meant the rain of artillery and Ritual Plate had intensified. It was enough to have her put the Eye's gaze skyward, but she was still advancing, and our forces were pulling back mostly behind lines of concrete debris, burned-out vehicles, and shattered brickwork that had been piled up.

The Fomor behind her had tried to keep up with her but their effort was desultory. The retreating First Cohort had created a concavity in our lines. And beyond the Titan's spearhead they had been unable to advance on the flanks.

I automatically split my focus and had the Gorgon Rig gaze further afield. The Svartalfheim embassy was eastward closer to the lake. I could see the flash of artillery in maniple strength as 4 Arachne batteries rotated through targets. Something that had to have been a ground launch torpedo shot into the air, and was followed by a storm of smaller Vel Missiles.

Interesting. Were the Fomor marshaling their remaining air-assets? Beyond the Embassy, to the North and even closer to the lake was where we estimated the Fomor had their main reserves and logistics support.

It was certainly where they had made landfall, and had dedicated a lot of troops to securing a cordon and lines of communication back to the beach. They had expended a lot of manpower to try to brave the beaches and move equipment and supplies across that zone.

More of my focus returned to Ethniu

I could not be the only one with a visual on the Titan. I suspected that there was likely at least one Veiled Forward Recon team in a dedicated spotter role. And there had to be at least one Occultia Pilot up there. The Valhalla had an entire Stealth Surveillance Squadron. And one Flight of that were Occultia.

But, if we were all at different orientations, and different altitudes... then the War College boffins and Librarians could triangulate and cross-check our data.

The First Cohort was pulling back under cover of the Arcana Engineers setting up a ward and swelling up the breastworks raising the height of the stone cover. The Eye had a cooldown period, but that only bought time.

The Engineer's portable Wards were intricate, expensive bits of kit designed to provide protection from air assaults and artillery. They only delayed the Eye slightly before their warding shields failed, but it was more time.

Though, in all technicality, even the thickest earthen barrier the geomancers raised up was merely concealment and not cover. So, far nothing had been able to stop the Eye's power, only slow it down.

By then the Fomor were starting to catch up and the Titan resumed her advance.

She bounded atop the concrete rubble barricade as two Centuries pulled back while their Marius Mules on remote control with Minerva rotary guns opened up. It did little to slow her but it was enough to allow several squads of Alpinum in their ceramic armor to advance.

Assigned to the 12th by BlackSky herself, they were the Legate's personal guard and advanced troops. That the 12th's commander was not there, and instead the attack was being commented by a willowy-ripcord-thin, flat-eyed Tribune wielding an equally slender sword did not speak well for the Legate's current condition.

Seeing the troops, the Titan smiled, her ethereally beautiful features twisted in cruel pleasure. "Finally! Enough running! You half breeds are abandoned. This is not your-"

And then a Vestal scout tank's main guns hit her in the chest and neck.

She let out a howl of anger, more upset at being interrupted than for any impact of the enhanced armor-piercing rounds on titanic bronze. She then jumped down and raced through the withering fire of the Alpinum Guard from across the street. "Then die, you rude Swine!" the Titan screamed with such volume that I did not need my Gorgon rig to hear her.

"Keep focus," Flight Ops said in my ear.

And then in a teleport flash followed a blinding arc like the first rays of the rising sun shot across the titan and her supporters. As smaller flashes flared around her, a tall pale figure with glossy black hair, curling horns, gold wings, and a black armored gown slammed into the Titan at just the right angle to knock her back onto the barricade.

The imperious figure was slimmer than her mother, but retained much of her regal bearing as she took the Tribune's long sword. The steel lit up, the entire blade glowing with a bright golden light as the air around it shimmered with heat.

Behind the figure, the minor flashes had revealed the matt-black light-armored figures of the Broadcast Recon troops. who had teleported in with the Daughter.

Ethniu looked down at the demoness with mocking grin. "Finally. I thought your breed were nothing but cowards. Who stands before me?"

The black-haired demon gave a thin smile. "Praetor Peregrinus DawnStrike. Before your father imprisoned you, I was conquering worlds at Mother's side. This petty host, this tantrum, goes no further. You will not advance."

++++

Sizing up DawnStrike, the Titan laughed. "Bold words." And then the light of the Eye shot out.

Instead of consuming the Praetor, there was a golden flash as she swept her sword, stepping inside of the beam's arc. Sunlight lit up the battlefield like a barrage of star-shells and the Eye's wrathful crimson power gouged through the golden ward raised in the sword's wake.

But by then DawnStrike was past the attack.

The Titan turned her head and the Praetor continued to turn, to the larger woman's side and slashed up with the tip of the luminous incendiary blade.

Moving with an even quicker blinking speed, Ethniu still screamed as the empowered sword kissed the side of her hip, leaving a flaming line of bubbling blood.

"You!" she screamed.

"Ah, well I was told someone with sufficient divine, or infernal, power could wound you." DawnStrike gave a little salute with the sword. "Let us see which I am."

Behind the Praetor the First Cohort continued to... evacuate. Broadcast Recon troops that had arrived with DawnStrike were helping teleport others further out and rebuild lines. The barrages on the Fomor Cohorts intensified making sure no one could get to their Mistress. It was all a continuation of previous retreats, but with more resources and organization.

And with a Daughter taking up the full attention of the Titan.

Ethniu had screamed and pounced at DawnStrike, the sword almost opened up her arm but she turned nearly gabbed into the demoness the Eye burst into ravening light and -

DawnStrike vanished in a golden flash.

She reappeared behind the Titan and yanked her hair back and down and tried to spear through her neck with the sword tip.

The blade creased the Titan's neck as she twisted, her sliver hair trying to tear out of the Praetor's hands. Turning, the Titan crouched at the knees and grabbed one of DawnStrike's arms and twisted. The was a snapping sound as she tried to backhand her away.

Yelling, DawnStrike smashed the sword against the taller woman's face, on the side without the Eye of Balor. There was another sunburst and the newly half-blind Titan tried to grapple the shorter woman but there was another flash as she teleported away.

"Coward! You are all callow and craven!" Ethniu screamed, seemingly trying to sight with the Eye itself.

While snapping her arm back into place, DawnStrike appeared to her blind side and tried to stab through the Titan's torso. Her green, mundane, eye regained focus and Ethniu flickered back as the sword just missed her.

"You are too slow," the Titan crowed as she stomped forward. The Eye flashed again and DawnStrike dodged and brought up the blade's light.

This time the golden ward shattered and the sword was immolated, for a bare moment turning into a lightly enchanted Legate's blade before it boiled away.

As the Titan tried to grapple with her, DawnStrike's tail went up slicking long fingers for the taller woman's trouble. Claws extended and both hit as DawnStrike tried to go under the floating ribs on the back of side far from the Eye, and the Titan simply flicked her wrist, the blade of her hand slamming into the Praetor's torso,

A bit of blood sprayed out DawnStrike's lips as she teleported further back.

"You lack commitment. If you had stayed you could have cut me deeper." Ethniu smirked and rubbed the small scratches on her side.

"And where in your sad life of imprisonment did you learn that?" DawnStrike laughed.

Ethniu charged her and the Eye of Balor burned. DawnStrike managed to evade but I gasped as her right wing just barely avoided the blast. The Fomor cohort a block behind DawnStrike did not far so well.

"Do not lose contact with the Titan," Flight Ops ordered, her tone clipped and urgent over the transmission.

"Mother knows the depth of my commitment," the Praetor said as the Titan tried to close and land another blow with immense fists.

"Where is your precious Mother? She abandons you like this!" Ethniu kicked out and managed to connect and there was a crunch in DawnStrike's midsection. More blood came out as DawnStrike caught Ethniu's right wrist, twisted and, using her entire body, turned it over and bent her hand back. With a burst of strength that flashed golden light down the street, she snapped it.

Ethniu screamed and held the broken wrist.

"Pain is new to you. Is it not?" Gasping, DawnStrike smiled.

"You will suffer. I will wear you down and when you can't run, when you realize your precious Mother sent you out here to die, then you will have oblivion." The baleful gaze from Ethniu's green eye was almost as hateful and intense as from the Eye of Balor

Looking behind the Titan, confirming that the Legions had withdrawn, the Praetor laughed. "I pity you, you have no one behind you. No one to trust. So much pride that you have to do everything yourself."

Ethniu charged and the Eye flashed.

DawnStrike teleported away, and then a 3 tone chime came over my communications channel.

The one that meant incoming Torpedo strike.

+++

The Fujiwara Aerial Torpedo was one of the main forms of power projection in the Household Fleet. Squadrons of Mace Torpedo Destroyers guarded the troop and armor transports and fleet cargo ships. And every RP carrier larger than a Mellona Medium had at least a few Torpedoes.

But the bulk of those 2.7 ton, 26 foot, missiles were dedicated to fleet defense with some for ground support. Which in light of the Fomor's negligible airborne and anti-air assets meant those munitions were basically dead-weight.

And while most of the Valhalla's torpedoes were for Fleet Defense; as an Avalon class heavy carrier, she had 48 torpedoes. Which gave plenty of space for ground support and other strike assets. The Battlecruiser HFV DarkStar was also lurking about. It had participated in the initial shore bombardment and rumor was that the DarkStar was using its stock of Madhu's Trident aquatic torpedoes and compliment of Torpedo Boats/Bombers in an anti-submarine warfare role.

Not to mention Landing Fleet had a Bombardment Flotilla with 2 Maul torpedo Cruisers in the fleet, each with 40 torpedoes and a Pike Torpedo Boat Tender that carried half a squadron of the quick, lethal craft.

Part of the barrage was too fast to follow. Even the Gorgon rig had a hard time getting a visual lock on something with a terminal speed over thrice the speed of sound. I managed to get enough data to tentatively identify one set of torpedoes. The other set was traveling far slower and was easier to identify.

Four supersonic shipkillers detonated just above the Titan. The Ascalon was a standard dual-purpose 700 lb warhead designed to pierce capital ship wards and puncture armor. The alchemically treated explosives were lensed foreword into incendiary jets as the backwash from the torpedo's detonations leveled the city block around their impact site.

The Titan was consumed as massive explosions shot through her and turned the area she stood upon into a crumbling crater.

The other torpedoes were slower and instead of hitting one target spread out along the entire line of battle. The Gae Bulg was a nasty bit of ordnance. A subsonic Torpedo, it exchanged reduced range for increased payload capacity. Instead of a single warhead, it carried over 150, 2 lb barbed sub-munitions. Though that was only half of the anti-infantry damage. The bomblettes were released just Surtalogi fuel air torpedoes also detonated. in incendiary clouds.

Nearly two dozen of these ground support weapons fell along the Fomorian lines. Much of a cruiser's loadout. There were also Log Mor anti-vehicle torpedoes. Like the Gae Bulk, the Log Mor had a heavier payload, but instead of a mass of smaller bomblettes, it only released 2 dozen larger Plumbata penetrators. These were designed to pierce armored vehicles and had independent targeting.

The Fomor did not have any such assets. I supposed the Notus spirits guiding those munitions went for whatever large or high value targets they could hit with extreme overkill. And because the Fleet Ordnance Department were pyromaniacs, the Log Mor also had an incendiary over blast.

Dealing with mortars, artillery and Ritual Plate had given the Fomor some experience in the importance of dispersion and dealing with air attacks. But even an Arachne battery pummeling your lines is a pale comparison to a heavy Torpedo strike.

It was like watching a few grid squares on a tactical map being swept clean.

The street was utterly obliterated as the Fomorian host had its heart ripped out and most of its lines cut down. Their reserves, as those further away from our lines, got some of the worst of it and were hit by overlapping firestorms until a crater similar to the one that had buried the Titan had formed.

And then the 12th Legion's entire Arachne maniple resumed firing at the Fomor that had managed to survive the Torpedo bombardment and had decided to move in some way.

"COWARDS!" the Titan screamed as she clawed her way out of the crater. It looked like her wrist had healed. Once at the crater's lip, her eye swept in a low arc as she circled her gaze. The First Cohort had used DawnStike's fight to pull to a safe distance. They might not have been out of range of the Eye but they were out of Torpedo range.

The Fomor Host shattered. Some with maddened fury or bleak resignation tried to charge the 12th, but more simply fled. Both were hit by the might of a Legion with full support. Ritual Plate Squadrons took out Lance attacks on larger concentrations and Sarpedona used conventional evocations to burn the Fomor. The RP squadrons left the largest groups for the occasional Torpedo to neutralize.

The smart ones stayed put, or moved to the nearest cover and hunkered down.

I shivered and focused the telemetry on the Titan. But I wondered where DawnStrike had gone to. For that matter where was BlackSky?

The three tone notice chimed again.

"Face ME! You COWARDS!" The Titan's frustrated anger threatened to break the heavens. And then the Eye tried to track the sky, there was an explosion above her followed by an overlapping crescendo as more ordnance fell upon her.

Even if she could take out a Torpedo, it would be very unlikely she'd be able to hit a Mothership. Not only were our larger fleet assets kept at standoff range for that reason, but Torpedoes could be launched from Hasta Torpedo Bombers or the Kolibri Torpedo Corvette. Not to mention that the large aerial munitions could take an indirect path to their target with dog-legs and other evasions.

Each detonation was smaller but the Torpedoes were harder to track, these were the
Gungnir which was a stealthy shipkiller that came in under a powerful veil. That stealth capacity came at a great expense in components and took up mass, reducing the warhead size. Maybe the Eye could see those coming in, maybe not.

They still hit the Titan.

Alongside those was a series of teleport flashes a bare handful of stories above her that immediacy tuned into explosions. The Hrunting was an even more expensive "shipkiller" that had a high-accuracy, short-range, one-shot teleportation enchantment. The fiscal expense of this strike was breathtaking. The teleport runes inscribed into the torpedo's body allowed the weapon to simply avoid most of the target's defenses, and simply appear as close as possible, at full velocity.

For the Titan's face this was, in missile terms, right next to her face.

++++

The entire block was now a blasted moonscape resembling the more desolate parts of Lantia.

The Fomor had just lost roughly a Legion's worth in casualties, about seven thousand various troops. Maybe half were dead, but the survivors had lost all cohesion and organization as fighting formations. Most of them were wounded and showed. And if they did not move quickly they would not get the chance to get organized, or into cover.

I idly wondered how many Torpedoes the Fleet had left. This many war shots had to have at least dented our ground support capability. Even a Bombardment Flotilla would be rapidly breaking out reloads from their supporting cargo ships.

Though I supposed with a dearth of enemy air assets or capital vessels we had plenty of shipkillers to lob at the Titan.

It was massively expensive, but so were squadrons of Ritual Plate or Cohorts of Legionaries.

Ethniu stood at the bottom of an uneven crater marred by collapsed tunnels and conduits. Dirty water had begun to flood into it in sprays and gurgles

The Titan was incandescent with rage as she stomped and splashed out of the crater once again.

As she neared the lip she hesitated and for a moment I wondered if the Titan would take cover. Instead she stood up and, proud as could be, she regained purchase on what could generously be called "street level".

Which nicely silhouetted her.

A full block away, DawnStrike appeared to her side and a golden beam of light shot down the broken avenue. The rubble lit up in sharp morning light, casting harsh shadows as the beam shot to the Titan.

Ethniu dodged but there might have been a weariness to her motion. And the beam adjusted, hitting the Titan in the chest and pushing her back.

She stumbled and one step went back past the lip of the crater and she started to stagger down the broken slope.

"You DARE mock ME!" Ethniu screamed and the Eye blasted out its hateful ray.

The Praetor vanished and reappeared to the other side of the crater and tilted her head. "Not from any great effort."

Ethniu gave an inarticulate rage-filled below and leapt across the crater trying to grapple with her.

Quirking an eyebrow, DawnStrike and gestured with her hand as if she were ordering in a wine bar and the clouds above thickened and a massive pillar of orange fire shot down slamming the Titan back into the crater.

The Eye shot up and raked over the lip of the crater in a circle. Buildings blew apart in a rough arc.

There were blasts of fire to the South that reflected off the clouds making them seem aflame. I could make out the hazy motions of Nyx stealth scouts and saw long lances of fire clearing an entire road of stalled vehicles. From my vantage point, I could barely make them out a couple dozen blocks or so, but CloudFire was among them. Another Daughter of the Imperatrix had arrived. Her eyes burned and her flaming hair billowed behind her with the magical bleed-off of the fiery pillar she had summoned at her sister's order.

The wards on the Lavin tanks shone as they raced down the road spreading their formation. It was not a stealthy approach, but given the smoldering fire to each warding shield I supposed CloudFire was trading stealth for protective power.

"You will NOT deny MY due!" The Titan screamed. "You interloping half breeds are nothing! You stand between me and a reckoning with the pitiful dregs of this world's divinity"

DawnStrike's green eyes turned flat. "You simpering Child. This is War. You bring your army to kill, to seize ground, to destroy your enemies. Here you ravage and pillage and offer no quarter. And you dare whine when we draw blood? When we refuse to treat this as some game?"

Racing up from behind our lines, the 23rd Legion Behemoth and its Battle Tanks were moving in to support the 12th Legion. I was not sure what even two dozen Lavin heavies would do against the Titan, but 24 tanks with their wards enhanced by Censor CloudFire? Plus their scouting vehicles, artillery, Ritual Plate, and Infantry support. That would at least slow the Titan down. Slow her enough for BlackSky and our allies to strike?

The Titan stomped back up the slope. The Eye glowed but did not fire. "You-"

DawnStrike cut the Titan off. "If you say cheater, I will be quite cross."

"Yes, you would hate to lose a bet, Dear Sister," a deeper resonant purring voice said as CloudFire appeared far down another street.

Her flaming orange and yellow hair was pulled back to where it flowed down the back of her armored gold and bronze dress. She stood with her immense hooves braced on the top deck of a battle tank that shimmered with intense wards and had a lowered ramming dozer blade. Three more tanks rumbled behind her in covering positions.

The Titan looked between the two Daughters.

"No you petulant child, you will not advance," DawnStrike patiently explained.

++++


Smirking, Titan stood to her full height. "You think these toys can stop me? The most you can do is bury me in rubble."

As her tanks raced around, CloudFire' laugh echoed over the broken landscape. "We can delay you; we can buy time. "

She gestured and the tank troop she was leading, plus three other quartets, a full Tank Swarm, that had gotten into position opened fire. The Lavin's 124mm shell was about 50 lbs. And 16 exotic armor-piercing enchanted variants hit the Titan in a storm of antic light and lashing flames that turned the ground into ash.

Half of the crater slumped apart into a fine heap of gritty sand that blew apart in a gritty cloud.

The battle tanks immediately revved their engines and withdrew leaving a gasping Titan scrambling as sparks and flames flickered over her metallic skin. Half of her silver hair had been melted off.

"We're not the ones afraid of morning, afraid of what will happen when Mortal Authorities arrive." DawnStrike's hands started to glow.

"But where is your mother? You fight here while she cowers..." The Titan paused and turned her head to the North-east.

My gaze went in that direction as the Gorgon rig locked onto a large teleport flash followed by... hundreds, no thousands of flashes. All along the Fomor's lines of communication back to the lake where the Fomor had their reserves and supplies. At least three thousand individual teleports.

A mass teleport. In theory sufficient skill could enable one to arrive and, using their own observations and the sensor feed from a whole cadre of ground and aerial scouts, teleport entire Cohorts of troops, vehicles, and support equipment. And to place each fire-team, rotary cannon, and tank in the exact spot for maximum devastation. And to do so while artillery and torpedoes launched supporting attacks.

It would take skill, coordination, and raw power on an unbelievable scale.

BlackSky had arrived.

And she had personally brought six cohorts with full support in a mass ambush the Fomor didn't see coming, an ambush they couldn't conceive of. One that could encircle the enemy, or at least cut off their line of retreat.

Contrary to her claims, the Titan's host was not an occupying force. For the Fomor this was a raid. And the most important part of a raiding mission was being able to break contact, exfiltrate, or at least retreat.

DawnStrike's smile was cold. "You wanted Mother's attention."

Ethniu screamed.

The Eye flashed towards Dawn. She teleported away; the clouds above coalesced as CloudFire summoned another fiery pillar that struck down. The Titan was briefly illuminated inside the roiling inferno. And then there was another three-tone alert.

My Gorgon rig was able to track these subsonic torpedoes. And from their giant monolithic explosions they were likely Galatine torpedoes. An inexpensive option, the Galatine eschewed most stealth, evasion, and advanced propulsion systems. Instead, it was a mere delivery system for over 800 lbs of high alchemical explosives.

Though expense was relative, for all the Torpedoes, Ritual Plate, Cohorts, and Armored Troops we might as well have been dropping pallets of millions of aurei on the Titan.

Some of the Lavin Battle Tanks, and their attendant infantry riding in Nymph light transports and Triarii IFVs had moved to support the Cohorts of the 12th Legion. The 23rd's LRI Cohorts were also arriving; Umbra Mediums deploying Infantry Centuries right to the battlefield.

Most of the 23rd's tanks were apparently the Lavin Mark 2 which had 2 Minerva rotary cannons in addition to a Metis heavy rotary cannon coaxial with the main gun which could also fire anti-infantry canister shot. With plenty of Infantry and RP support the shattered Fomor Formations were facing withering anti-infantry fire.

Even in the nightmare that was urban combat, without the Titan, the Fomor would have to count on an especially strong, brave, and creative sorcerer to even have a hope of slowing a Lavin.

The tanks advanced. And it seemed that the Fomorian inventory was light on anti-armor weaponry.

The third Torpedo barrage cleared. I wondered if the rotating through the types was testing to see which had the most effect on the Titan or was some commander dealing with the Fleet's finite supply of the heavy munitions.

DawnStrike had appeared further back closer but not quite near to her sister. Neither wanted to have both be able to be hit by the same blast from the Eye.

She simply spread her wings behind her and gestured "come forward" with her open hand.

The Titan's metal skin was no longer pristine; it had a rainbow patina that many metallic sheets got after an improper temper. The Titan took a step then a note of hesitation, of caution, crossed her face.

"Dither if you wish," the Praetor said. "It is not our forces who have daybreak as their enemy. Let Mother extinguish your minions, your allies, your supplies. I'm sure they'll accept such a betrayal with magnanimity."

"What do You know, Coward!" the Titan screamed. "You are interlopers here! This is not your world. They do not respect you."

Ethniu froze at DawnStrike's small smile.

Maybe. Maybe the other Accorded Nations did not respect us. But they knew how to use an opening. The Fae were another force of respectable skill in misdirection. If the Queen of Winter could not make use of an angered enemy myopically focused on another target that insisted on a harassing retreat, drawing the Titan further and further from the center of combat...

But it was not just faerie. It was said that the White Council's Wizards needed time for some great arcane working. And the Embassy was showing, only a fool would challenge the Svartalves on ground they had prepared.

And then there was Dame BlackStone. She had appeared time and time again; this was her city.

++++

Calculating the battle before her versus the one behind her, the Titan set her jaw. "Fomor! To me!" she screamed as the Eye's ravaging beam sliced across the battlefield.

There was a maddened howl as the remaining Fomorian forces launched themselves towards the Titan. Hordes of long-limbed muscular shaggy creatures, short be-tentacled ape-like things, amphibious Fomorians, and human levies all broke away from our lines and moved towards the Titan.

Their casualties were heavy. Seeing a force concentration, the Arachne barrage had intensified, which made me hope that Legion Behemoth also brought more artillery shells.

DawnStrike seemed perturbed while CloudFire simply cackled.

The pillars of fire slammed down from the sky as the Armored vehicles of 23rd Legion Behemoth advanced supporting the reinvigorated troops of 12th Legion Severitas. Keeping a clear dead zone they avoided pressing to the Titan.

The three-tone chime alerted and the Fomorian reinforcements were blasted by shipkiller torpedoes intended for the Titan. The monolithic high alchemy explosives blew through the enemy troops.

They may have been less efficient than with a dedicated ground-support weapon, but the results were devastating.

But then Ethniu was already gone.

"Valhalla Flight, this is Centurion Valentina the Titan is retreating," I gasped and paused to take a sip from my water tube. "Repeat. The Titan is Retreating."

There was a pause. "Understood," the young technician said her voice a pleased purr. "Do you have a bearing?"

"North-east direction. Contact track is highlighted. High ground speed," I transmitted as I had the Gorgon Rig follow the tall form as she ran down the blasted street. Some of her retainers tried to keep up, but they were quickly left in the dust.

"Understood," the crisp voice replied. "Keep visual as long as you can."

"Confirm." I zoomed out the scrying intake from the Gorgon rig. "She is rendezvousing with support elements. Estimate may reach BlackSky's area of operation in zero-four minutes. Longer if she abandons all support."

Though I wondered how long BlackSky and her cohorts would be there. The bit of attention I could spare to that part of the battlefield indicated things were winding down. Unless she was planning to ambush the Titan herself, BlackSky could withdraw in good order.

As Ethniu made it to what seemed to be a stacked concrete parking lot the Fomor had used as a staging point between their main supply dump and their line of attack on the 12th, The three-tone trill sounded.

And the entire building was blown to rubble. I gave a sharp grin as I transmitted that set of footage. If we had to burn the city to save it from the Fomor then so be it.

It was doubtful that that would kill or even wound her. But that was not the point.

The Titan had put much in her inevitability, her invincibility. That none could stand athwart her.

With that arrogance she had boasted to the Accorded Nations, announced her plans to invade, and hurled herself at the Legions.

And it was Ethniu who had fled, bloody and battered.

I drank some more water. And split my attention between tracking when the Titan dug her way out and the 12th and 23rd Legions' assault on the remaining Fomor.

Maybe now Valhalla Command could spare a Spatha VTOL to pick me up.


End "Snippet" 3.

Special thanks to especially @Preier for checking and reading over this. For ch13 I have over 4,500 words written and hte combat scene is going well.
 
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Chapter 13: Command, Control, Reconnaissance, & Revenge
The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple

Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:

Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.

Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 13: Command, Control, Reconnaissance, & Revenge


We were outnumbered.

Our Polyxo Squadron of 12 Pilots, commanded by Prefect Centurion Quirinus, faced a heavy squadron of at least 16 Zioxan Pilots. About 2 Flights of their Satori ground strike models and 2 of their Tjardu air superiority.

Making the situation worse, the Zioxans were supported by a network of Villeneuve golems that could fire Toulon anti-air missiles. The launchers came from House Trosier but were operated by the Diluvians. After all, the Diluvians had been the ones who had courted the support of the Great Houses of Ziox and Trosier for their struggle against minor House Crocelli. Proxy or not, the Diluvians remained the nominal enemy we were here to fight.

The worrying part of the current situation was the level of apparent coordination between this batch of Zioxan mercenaries and their Diluvian allies. Even a slipshod degree of active communication between the opposing forces would hand the squadron commanded by Samoth Rodswor control over a zone of airspace where they could operate freely and we would be hampered by missile barrage. With a proper level of communication, that already unpleasant situation worsened precipitously.

Fully integrated comms would enable the Zioxan forces to provide constantly updated targeting and guidance data for the salvos of Toulon missiles. From what information I could recall about Trosic weapons systems, their targeting systems should be fully compatible with Zioxan Ritual Plate scrying and sensor suits. The two Houses were strong allies and shared a mutual a fear of BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate, which had informed the development of their own systems.

The Tjardu was the fruit of this inter-House cooperation on weapons development. Based on the Rochefort, House Trosier's own air-superiority suit, the Tjardu retained the robustness of the ancestral design while improving on the efficiency and performance to a near-peer level with the Harmonia suit. Admittedly the cost in materials and enhancements represented by each Tjardu made them very expensive, even by Ritual Plate standards, and the Tjardu had an infamously steep learning curve for Pilots, but it was nevertheless san example of multi-House cooperation mad manifest.


That cooperation was at the root of this proxy war. And, plausible deniability aside, House Ziox had increased their commitment. And it was up to us to deal with it and keep our own House informed. Quirinus had finished updating Flight Ops and my Display updated.

According to Command there were now 2 Occultias in high altitude orbit over the theater. One of the most expensive and rare models feilded by House BlackSky, the Occultia was a reconnaissance specialized Ritual Plate equipped with advanced and powerful scrying systems. An Occultia pilot had to be skilled in operating, collating, and distributing the data intake on top of all the other qualifications a Pilot entrusted with one of the House's greatest weapons required.

Air combat was more than just who had the most weapons, the greatest thrust, or the most maneuverability. Though those were all useful things, accurate and up to date information on the tactical and strategic situation was equally if not more important. Information the Occultia suits specialized in providing.

Compared to the Computation Jewels of Visha and I's previous lives, fighting for another empire, Ritual Plate was bulky, expensive, and maintenance-intensive. It required a far more involved logistical backend in skilled support staff, parts, power systems, munitions and the like. And all for a system that had less maneuverability and reaction in the low-velocity regime.

Yet all that expense resulted in a combat platform that had a greater altitude ceiling, velocity, power distribution, operational radius, weapons options, and of greater concern to the informed: communications and data sharing.

It was an amusing synchronicity; in both of my "next lives", I had been strapped into advanced magical flight systems and sent off to act as an artillery spotter. And now, once again, I had been put back into the old familiar role of a spotter.

Except it was technically not artillery we were spotting this time, and our targets weren't grounded like a marching column of unwary infantry.

I would have preferred to simply have a Fleet Airship, or a Torpedo Bomber just fire a mass of Vel Missiles at the enemy. Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes were large, expensive, and effective, and thus were in high demand.

However the assets we had did allow for something... close.

The Telephe Ritual Plate was House BlackSky's strike model. Their primary weapons were Lance batteries, extremely high power, relatively long-ranged weapons that could take out capital ships and other large assets. Their energy release could also be tuned to take out convoys as was done earlier tonight, but at a cost in efficiency.

The downside of Lances was that given the sheer level of specialized arcane energy required, a Telephe only had a handful of shots. Not to mention the breathtaking energy density of the lance's power flasks, or the expense in enchanting them with even a modicum of safety. Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role suits could be configured in a Strike Package which gave near parity, at the cost of a slightly reduced capability. Meanwhile, the, less capable but less expensive, Polydora Multi-Role had lower power, range, and capacity when it was configured with Lance batteries.

Quirinus had taken her squadron to the Vihn Garrison to provide ground support fire. She had 2 Flights of ground-attack configured Polyxo and 1 Flight in strike configuration.

Lances were not the most efficient way to go after most ground targets. But as I told Quirinus when I was just a Cadet and she was my instructor: a Lance strike makes for an unforgettable ground support run.

Flight Ops was vectoring in support and our House Crocelli allies in Vihn Garrison had some fixed-wing assets, mostly Barrister ground attack craft, and some Archer Ritual Plate suits, but the former were extremely vulnerable to the Zioxans and the latter were dealing with defending the Garrison itself.

So, Quirinus had 3 Flights to play with. My Flight was the one with the best scrying equipment, and I would argue also at least the second best Flight in terms of combat skill. Given First Flight's presence, thought, there wasn't really much question about how Quirinus would use my Flight.

Going in low and fast, my Flight came in with more power to our Veils. The heavy rain made for a greater challenge and power consumption, but the longer we could obfuscate our targets the better.

Our path was going to put us in line with a grain elevator to the east of the town. Past it was a concentration of Diluvian infantry, a mortar formation, and a cluster of their air defense network. The enemy concentration was a textbook target.

Having a Flight of ground-attack Polyxo scout, strafe, and provide targeting data for a Flight of Strike Polyxo, despite facing superior enemy numbers was the type of aggressive challenge bordering on contempt our enemies often expected.

We flew into the teeth of the Villeneuve air defenses and a waiting heavy Squadron. As the range decreased it would get harder and harder to conceal our approach.

House BlackSky had a reputation for bellicosity. Among the service branches, the Imperial Legions had a esprit de corps reflecting their role as airborne shock infantry. And of the Legionary specializations, the Volantes Centurions, the Ritual Plate Pilots had the most speed and personal firepower.

A degree of recklessness and arrogance would be expected for any Pilot. Now, consider a young Countess who got that title for taking out nine Zioxan Pilots from the Second Assault Infiltration Wing, including the War Mistress in command.

Would said War Mistress' sister be surprised when she sees the Countess' Flight, at a close enough range my wings will be rather identifying, charging into battle? Samoth saw me fight alone at eleven when outnumbered 9 to 1. My Flight versus her Squadron was still 4 to 1.

Would she think I was that conceited? That I was another BlackSkyvian war-maniac young noble?

I hoped she would.

Samoth struck me as arrogant, and if she was half the woman her sister was, she should come into it. Breathing and checking my telemetry I reflected that this plan required us having the superior psychological profile of the enemy commander.

"GreyDawn, VioletBlood! Pull in, increase your speed," I said over the Flight channel. They had been flying in at a proper distance. Not the one prescribed by the book, but the correct covering range given our situation. I did not want proper, I wanted them to look gung-ho, to look aggressive.

Based on the composite imagery from our Gorgon Rigs' passive intakes and the various active scrying feeds, it looked like a Tjardu Flight was moving towards us. Both enemy Flights of Satori were a bit behind them to provide support and the last Tjardu was on a central higher altitude overwatch post.

Their positioning lacked the fluidity of a truly well-trained squadron, but at least they were not holding static positions. A fault many Pilots with poor experience is that they would hover at a given location, take a fixed following distance, or move in some other predictable pattern that made them easy targets.

In this case both Tjardu Flights were reasonably placed to respond to anything a smaller BlackSkyvian formation could do, and they were taking advantage of the anti-air missiles on their side.

If anything, they had a bit more distance and were retaining more of a reserve of energy potential being at a higher velocity and altitude, as if they were worried about facing Harmonia, and not RP suits with less velocity and high speed maneuverability.

They were playing to their perceived relative strengths. Lighter and with greater turning capability, they were worried about Air Superiority Polyxo, which like the Harmonia had greater protection and overall speed. Granted the Harmonia was a bit better in those regards than either model, but it showed an expectation on the party of the enemy.

I was thankful for the Occultia support, as the Tjardu was supposedly an easier platform to Veil, which with their overall lower power systems did make sense. Without the additional scrying support we might have missed them until we were much closer.

"They seem to be skilled enough," Visha noted on a private channel.

"At forming up and flying low-profile," I replied. But she was right, the Tjardu had a steeper learning curve than BlackSkyvian suits. Part of that was that the design was a cobbling of two different House's design philosophies, arcana, and parts.

Their whole concept of making the Tjardu to fight the Harmonia reflected institutional biases and how doctrine should be limited to what a polity has the resources to invest. The Harmonia was actually the less expensive suit. This both came from advantages of scale and experience. House BlackSky simply produced more Ritual Plate suits. MuArc Amalgamated constructed more suits in a month than all of House Ziox produced in a year. And MuArc was just one firm that made Ritual Plate.

And when it came to Harmonia versus Tjardu production numbers, technically House Ziox had not built any of their air-superiority Ritual Plate. They purchased the core enchanted components, essentially stripped suits, from House Trosier. Not to mention, they had a far smaller pool or Pilots and Instructors for their Ritual Plate corps.

I gave a forced grin. "Uplink check," I transmitted on the command channel. My Display had the symbol for a valid connection with Flight 1, but it would have been sloppy to not verify.

"We are getting telemetry from all four of you," Quirinus replied. "We're seeing a lot of good ground targets."

"And more?" I asked as I had my Flight go even lower, again, into a textbook ground attack run.. We were practically skimming over the rooftops of Vihn now.

My feathered wings tingled with the stress my Zephyr were under as they pushed me forward. The ground-attack mode for the Polyxo sacrificed velocity, climb, and high speed maneuvering for more weapons systems, protection, and low velocity capability.

Which meant that even though the Tjardu cost more than a Harmonia for what I evaluated as the inferior suit, it was still an air superiority model that by the basic stats could fly circles around my own Flight's equipment.

It was one thing to say how overall the Tjardu could compete with the Harmonia, but only at a far greater cost in resources, logistics, and Pilot skill, and thus that on a given campaign my House would field more air-superiority Ritual Plate than House Ziox.

But that ignored that House Ziox did make use of fixed-wing assets, both piloted and golem craft Which did have advantages against Ritual Plate, provided one was willing to be limited to airbases or large naval carriers. Also Zioxan strategy depended on having allies to support them in any major action against a larger enemy.

But more importantly... on the tactical level. House Ziox planned to use concentrations of force and focus on enemy Ritual Plate when they had local superiority in numbers and capability.

Such as this exact situation.

"Sprint Mode. Sprint Mode, Prepare for Ranging Fire" I stated and then pushed my Zephyr to what would seem like their max. "Violet make sure you don't actually get out of formation," I cautioned my most... excitable pilot.

The four did what seemed like a redline thrust, especially given how our emissions shot up. It would also put a spotlight on how the four of us were in a ground attack configuration. Our formation spread out as it looked like each of us was rushing and we were about to lose cohesion.

It was something that a stereotypical, or at least hidebound, Flight Instructor would twist the horns on her students if she caught them making such a sloppy formation. However... a sensible Volantes Centurion would note that we still had mutual support in both angles of fire, scrying, and maneuverability.

And given the Instructor I had as a Cadet was my Squadron commander.. well I doubted a fellow bearer of the Honor Name "Magnus" would be upset with me.

Especially since Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus was the one who came up with this plan and approved of my adjustments to my Flight's part in it...

On my Display, the four markers of my Flight raced towards a series of roughly concentric lines that represented various ranges of the Toulon missile. My vision was assaulted with a nearly overwhelming amount of visual data from the view out my eye lenses to the display projection with its overlays and maps, targeting data, to ancillary rear views.

Much of Ritual Plate design theory involved finding ways to reduce visual clutter while allowing for quick reference and managing to keep things informative. Not to mention battle-hardening the various spells projecting the illusions.

It all melted back as I no longer saw the Display and simply took in the data holistically and integrated it with the suit, my Zephyr, and my Flight.

The closer Tjardu Flight pushed their own air spirits and dove down making use of what standard theory told them was a superior position and moving to make use of it. As the faster air superiority suits moved in to intercept us, the two Flights of Satori suits split into two wedges. One took position flanking the Tjardu, gamely attempting to keep up, while the other held back over the rough center of the enemy ground position.

We were outnumbered Three Flights to One, two to one if you were optimistic.

And then all Villeneuve anti-air golems opened up and the sky filled with dozens of the light, quick Toulon missiles. Ah, and on the way up they snap-changed their vectors after the initial climb. It was likely that the Zioxan suits had full coordination with the missiles.

I grinned. Perfect.

The telemetry was a bit overwhelming. The warning indicators were suddenly quite insistent. Fortunately, all the telemetry data was still being transmitted.

My estimation of Samoth increased slightly. I had expected her to gloat over the open channel. Maybe she was being cautious as my Flight was still far enough that we could reverse and fight a retreat.

She might not have been in that forward Tjardu Flight, but she was somewhere up here.

"Lance Strike away!" Quirinus stated as she and the three other Pilots in her Flight opened fire.

There was a brief window where a more cautious Zioxan force would have been on alert. Quirinus' Flight had just released a quartet bolts of extremely energetic long range evocation magical attacks. However, the Tjardu Flight was moving in to take out my Flight and the Satori were guiding missiles.

Besides, Lance Strikes were for large air targets or ground formations. And at that range, it would be hard to target individual Ritual Plate suits.

Except, my Flight was very experienced at providing targeting data.

"Eyes!" I ordered over the Flight channel; this was going to be very close.

As the Lances shot in, someone in the leading Tjardu Flight realized the mistake and tried to maneuver, but it was too late. And the long-range bombardment detonated among the enemy Ritual Plate formations.

Lances were very intricate high energy arcane creations. As a way for Ritual Plate to carry strike-capable armaments, the detonation mechanism was a major component. A Lance was designed to be able to pierce, or failing that weaken, wards, burn through armor and then detonate, or explode in an airburst above a target.

On first blush, it was a terribly inefficient use of limited firepower. Even with Occultia and Gorgon Rig targeting only three of the enemy Ritual Plate were hit. I was not a fan of waste, but it was gratifying to see.

A Lance was designed to punch through the defenses of a capital ship. Even taking a fraction of the Lance's power, a Ritual Plate's Wards stood little chance. It was like using a sledgehammer on a grasshopper.

It was hard to hit such a small and quick target, but if you could. And three Pilots were caught in the center of the giant blinding white orbs and the twinkling afterimages of the strikes.

Taking out a single Tjardu and two Satori were merely the largest casualties of the strike. The Lances had been set to air burst. Thus several more RP were damaged as well as a fair number of Toulon missiles. The missiles were further out, but they were entirely unshielded.

Most useful for my Pilots however was that the three Flights caught in the energetic blasts had their scrying arrays overloaded. It was maybe a bit much to hope that the Zioxan Pilots were blinded. RP Suits were supposed to have reactive eye slits, but either way they would be disoriented.

The trio of Trjardu kept formation, but given one of them had been deleted from the sky and another was sparking as her low-visibility systems failed it showed they were taking a moment to react. Sprinting at our actual full speed, my Flight dove in to deny them that time.

"Grey, Baroness, hit the straggler!" I ordered as the four of us fired our Falx Projectors.

Visha and I each fired once on the two least damaged Trjardu while the fully visible one was hit by one anti-armor grade weapon and another. The first shot might not have gone through her wards but the second ensured it.

The luckless Zioxan blew apart. And now we outnumbered the air-superiority fighters two to one.

The remaining two Trjardu recovered and used their agility to survive the attacks Visha and I leveled. They twisted and shot towards us. And then GreyDawn and VioletBlood went after the trailing fighter who twisted up to avoid them and went into a sharp climb.

Which allowed me to take the last Zioxan fighter with my wingwoman at my side. "Visha clear any missiles that get on us!" I ordered, knowing that GreyDawn would be similarly protecting her wingwoman.

The Trjardu might be faster than us, but we had already closed in. They could run, but they were outnumbered and bolting might expose them to parting fire. As we eviscerated this air superiority flight, Mercy's Flight pounced on the Satori. She was outnumbered three to two, but two of the Zioxan Multi-role were in bad shape and they were split between defending themselves and guiding anti-air missiles.

They could fight Ritual Plate that was fresh and had the edge in performance, or they could spend valuable time reacquiring connections and controls with the remaining Toulon missiles.

Or they could pull back and have the Villeneuve golems launch more missiles, but that was when Quirinus' Flights launched their remaining two salvos and took out much of the Diluvian ground assets.

That left one uncommitted Trjardu Flight, and while Quirinus' flight was down to their backup projectors, the dirty secret was that a BlackSkvyian Strike model Ritual Plate suit was functionally an interceptor in performance and could work as a fair air superiority platform.

Distance meant that even with their higher speed the strike Polyxo would take a bit of time to get to the remaining Trjardu Flight but that they were vectoring in preventing Samoth from freely committing her reserve.

My wings ached as I did a snap roll to avoid incoming fire; this Trjadu Pilot had mostly gotten out of her stupor and was trying to reunite with her wingwoman. Meanwhile Visha was doing her part to help us threaten and limit the enemy's maneuverability as well as take out incoming missiles.

The Toulon was a light weapon, a single was unlikely to score a kill against a warded Pilot, and mostly worked by swarming enemy Ritual Plate. Its main role was as a relatively inexpensive air denial asset, but with airborne target spotting could be used in a more active role.

GreyDawn and VioletBlood were similarly pressuring their enemy and similarly by outnumbering the Zioxan in a close range fight had limited the Trjardu's advantages. Their low observable systems were less effective the closer one was.

Rolling, I adjusted my Falx-fire giving careful shots with the projector. Already slowed down, one of the orange bolts took down her warding and roasted the Pilot's pale blue wings. That this Pilot had refrained from reacting meant she was either not Samoth, or that Samoth had more self control than I thought.

"Visha!" I shouted as I slowed and switched to using Pilum bolt covering fire to stave off the remaining missiles.

Visha had been flying a bit higher and faster in a flanking position and had a perfect angle. "Enemy down," she stated after taking a perfect shot.

"I got mine too!" VioletBlood said over the Flight channel after a few more seconds.

I glanced at that part of my Display. VioletBlood had taken them out, and Mercy's Flight had gotten the better of the enemy Satori. Mostly by picking off the most damaged Ritual Plate and then conservatively harassing the three remaining survivors while warding off incoming fire. "That's great Baroness, but not time to rest on your laurels. There's still a contest to be won!" I cheered in my motivational tone and the four of us took off to the rest of the enemy formations.

"Diamond Flight, good work," Quirinus stated. "My Flight is also maneuvering to the remaining Trjardu Flight. Ground Fire is still an issue."

I quickly studied the map on my Display. There were marks for airborne assets other than the deep purple of House BlackSky and the dark blue of House Ziox. "What about the Garrison's Archers and Barristers? With us taking out these 'mercenaries' their Ritual Plate can be moved out and as long as the Barristers have some rockets left..."

The Barrister was a rugged and cheap fixed-wing aircraft that could takeoff and land on fairly short and rough runways. Another Alecton export, it mostly worked as a platform for carrying wing-loads and a belly-full of minimally guided rockets. Though the Barrister could also carry bombs and more expensive munitions, if their operators could afford them. The weakness of the Barrister was that just about any Ritual Plate, or fixed-wing fighter would have a fairly trivial time taking them out, but that was why their rockets had a fair range.

Quirinus took a moment to ponder. "I'll call it in," she stated.

My eyes widened, if she thought I was some gung-ho maniac who would rather engage in air to air duels than obey orders and do critical ground support missions... Being assigned tasks more suited to such a mentality would be the least of my worries. "I just think it's the most sound use of all our resources!" I quickly assured her.

"I'm well aware you're not unduly worried about your little bet, now let me talk to our local allies."

At least Mercy's formation was closer and providing support to her was entirely valid.

Seeing they were about to be hit by another Flight, the remaining Satori tried to position themselves and used their remaining missiles to cover it. I had to give them credit for not breaking and maneuvering under control.

They were also trying to reunite with the Trjardu Flight. Not even two minutes had passed since the first Lance strike and so the four air superiority Ritual Plate were nearing their remaining allies.

And Quirinus Flight was still a bit out, but the Archers and the Barristers by the Garrison were moving. It was now a race.

One that we lost.

The Trjardu Flight reunited with their beleaguer allies and now without the pressure the guidance on the Toulon missiles improved. One of Mercy's Pilots was hit. She took out most of the attacks, but enough missiles got in to take out her wards and damage her armor, and a pair of Ziox air superiority RP destroyed the Polyxo.

In that instant I did not know who it was, I hoped it was not Octavia. Trjardu fighters moved in and tried to split off another Polyxo while the others were forced out by the missiles. Another Pilot was hit as her suit was briefly engulfed in flames and she slowed and started to descend. One of the other Pilots went to cover her, which left just one Polyxo remaining free to move. This was the weakness of the Flight as a combat unit. After the first casualty, any further combat losses would render the Flight combat ineffective.

And then my Pilots came in and fired a Falx salvo, and what had been a moment of Zioxan numerical superiority and defeat in detail turned back into a BlackSkyvian advantage.

Or at least we could get time. With some space we could get it to be at least seven versus seven. And Quirinus would not be far behind.

"Mercy Flight, check your wounded, and get-" I said over the squadron channel, there was a chance Mercy had been killed or incapacitated.

"I'm okay!" Octavia assured with a cough, "I've got my suit rebooted." To her credit she was flying better and the flames were out. Though one leg was bent in a way that indicated she would not be walking anytime soon.

"Yes, Diamond, you can take the Trjardu fighters, we'll finish off the Satori," Mercy gritted out; I could feel her anger. It took professionalism to set aside one's personal vengeance to the benefit of the unit.

But that was why we were the Imperial Legions and not the armed rabble of some warlord. Or a War Mistress.

It was interesting that no one in either Trjardu Flight used an overpowered attack similar to the ones the late Zaphania Rodswor was using. Though Samoth was the younger sister.

I was tempted to use the open channel, but I held back. One only got one chance to make a first impression, and I wanted to make my introduction special.

The Trjardu were gaining altitude and pulling to open a range advantage. That was expected, it played to the advantage of faster, yet more fragile suits. However they could not leave, not if they wanted to support the remaining Satori

Who I had to admit were fighting like angels. And having met an archangel, I can't say the idiom is wrong.

I ordered my Flight to go to our Falx projectors, we were running dangerously low on them, but they had the furthest range of the weapons we had. "Curve around to the following vector," I then said over the Flight channel.

The idea was to force the Trjardu Flight to choose between supporting the Satori where they would be pinned between my Flight and Quirinus' or abandon their allies.

It came down to timing. Would Quirinus get in first? Would the Barristers get into range to launch their air-to-ground missiles? How many anti-air missiles could the Villeneuve golems get off before getting hit? Would the Satori pilots be able to take out another one of my squadron-mates using their superior directing of those Toulon missiles?

How many Archers could the Garrison dedicate to this fight? What about the reinforcements Flight Ops was sending? How many of their Cadiz Ritual Plate would the Diluvians send into this fight?

The Diluvians had been repositioning for another attack on the Garrison but with their "mercenary" allies committed to fighting us instead of knocking out House Crocelli's air assets.

The map Display was getting even more dynamic and crowded with icons. And this was a relatively small squadron-level event.

Fire came in from the Trjardu Flight. They each picked a member of my flight to hit, which was likely more suppressive in intent. They moved for a quick fly-by and were going too blast past us to reinforce the Satori.

"Focus to wingwomen," I transmitted on the Flight channel. highlighting the two trailing members of the enemy formation.

We were slower but had heavier weapons and more protection. Our two formations scissored through each other in compels screwing and jinking maneuvers as each tried to hit the other. It was still dangerously close by Ritual Plate combat standards, but as spread out as we were there was no chance of us physically hitting each other, let alone being within sword range.

Zioxan energy blasts hit my wards and warning lights flicked on all over my display before the wards cut out. I grit my teeth as the status alerts went off for GreyDawn and VioletBlood. Neither was as bad as I was but my more experienced Pilot was having bad luck today.

Though the Trjardu Pilots had it worse. While everyone in my Flight had taken a bit of damage, VioletBlood and GreyDawn had managed to cleanly take out one of theirs while Visha and myself had burned through the wards of another.

I was splitting between rekindling my own wards and directing those two to take out the straggler. And then the sky got very busy and many things resolved at once.

Escorted by Archers, the heavy, canted-winged Barristers had gotten into an attack run as they neared the range and were about to and disgorged their load of Advocate air-to-ground missiles.

Like the Barrister, the Advocate was a basic and inexpensive, unsophisticated option for ground attack. It was heavier than an energy-based system with a far larger footprint, but given they were intended to be launched from fixed wing assets that was not considered an issue.

The Advocate missile and the Barrister ground attack craft made for an appealing option for a minor house looking to pummel ground forces on a budget, especially as House Alecto had many financing options.

Flipping over there was an instant as the heavy rain pattered directly against my suit and helmet. For a moment it was like being in a trench with a sheet metal roof. I could almost smell the mud of the Rhine.

Knowing their air defense systems were at risk, the Diluvians launched all their Toulon missiles, the Villeneuve running empty as they extended their internal magazines. The heavy cloud of sprinting little anti-air missiles went up in the direction of the Barristers.

Even with Archers providing an anti-missile screen, the Diluvians had a chance to take out a number of Barristers before they could reply in kind. But instead of keeping their vector, the bulk of the Toulon missiles twisted, and now rocketed in towards us.

The Zioxans still had direct control!

Not to take a better chance at survival, the Barristers disgorged their missiles and twisted away, hoping their escorts could protect them. I had an instant to appreciate the Diluvians cursing Zioxan perfidy as the realization hit.

The Toulon missile direction had been quite good but this action seemed personal. "Samoth's in one of the Satori!" I stated over the Squadron channel as my wards flared back. There was no reason that Samoth Rodswor's expertise had to lay with air superiority combat.

Our Ritual Plate forces were in a big intermixed column that stretched over the battlefield. Quirinus' Strike Flight was diving down to blast through the Trjardu and Mercy's depleted Flight had pulled to a more defensive posture and was engaging in anti-missile suppression.

"Quirinus, Mercy request your Flights cover mine, mine's in the best position to charge the Satori!" I ordered as I had my Flight increase our power to slice to the remaining Zioxan forces.

It was then that I realized that if my theory was right Samoth would be directing the majority of the missiles she had usurped to cross my vector from as many angles as possible in order to limit my maneuvering and saturate my defenses.

Sometimes I hated being correct.

"Visha, Violet, I'm going to clear the road, you two take any stragglers. GreyDawn trail position and fire on the Satori I highlight when I tell you with the weapon I tell you!" I ordered as I went to a near vertical corkscrewing dive.

The remaining Satori multi-role suits were below us and an arcing cloud of Toulon missiles came between us. They rose up and came in at different angles and all focused on me.

I pulled my lips back, there was something to be said for brute force as I flipped to the open channel. "Samoth! Is this the value of Zioxan oaths?" I asked as I started Pilum bolts as fast as my targeting system could allow as I spun and twisted.

Exhaling, I went to active with my Gorgon rig and focused on the remaining Flight or so of Satori. One of the Pilots had dark feathered wings, another had a long ruffled tail, one might have had hooves. And one.... one was lean and had her wings spread out and was managing a bit stiffly as if she had an extra load splitting her attention.

"You are no mercenary! Even a basic sell-sword knows not to betray their client in such a debased manner!" I declared as missiles began to explode around me and on the ground the Advocates reaped their cost as the air-to-ground warheads cut through the Diluvian air defense, mortars, and vehicles.

That pilot might have flinched in her suit. She might have tilted her head to look up as she, and the rest of her Flight had rotated up and more missiles came in. It was a thin thing to identify a target on, especially if Samoth might have looked nothing like her sister.

But it was what I had. Still firing, taking the brunt of near misses that Visha and Violet had blasted that got past me. Pushing my Zephyr as far as they could go I pushed the targeting data to GreyDawn.

Above us Quirinus' Flight took on the remaining Trjardu.

I could not spare any attention for that bit of air combat. The good news was that it seemed we had found Samoth. More good news was that nearly all the pressure had been taken off Mercy's survivors which enabled them to clear out some of the anti-air missiles that had been targeting them and others. They even started to pressure the enemy directly.

This all came at a cost. A lot of Toulon missiles had been fired. Thanks to the fire support from the Garrison's air assets the amount in the air was all that remained, but there was still a large amount.

Fortunately, they were directed at one target which meant that a layered defense could be enacted. Mercy's Flight gave some sporadic but useful fire as, at the moment, they were closer to the enemy RP directing the Toulons.

And with less concerns about their own anti-missile defense, Visha and VioletBlood could give an interlocking Pilum fire that was quite efficient. GreyDawn was also contributing but her fire was more offensive. For the moment I had her making careful shots of what was normally a short ranged weapon system. Dozens of missiles were taken out of the sky before they got anywhere near their target.

That being the bad news. I was left with an intensifying amount of incoming ordnance. The Toulon's main advantages were also its limitations. It was a small, specialized missile designed as a defensive anti-Ritual Plate system and given its size an individual Trossic Naval Infantrywoman could have a launcher with multiple missiles, and the Villeneuve could fire over a dozen before reloading.

I could argue that the larger, and more flexible, Vel Missile House BlackSky used was the superior weapon system. But facing a swarm of Toulons I had neither the time nor the inclination.

My emitters, runes, and inlays flared as I fired both my Pilum and Falx Projectors. It was a profligate waste to use anti-armor grade weapons against missiles. But it was better to spend them now than die with an ammunition reserve. I even used my relatively short ranged Veritum launcher to lob explosive spells at anything that got through the other barrages.

As it fired an unguided, unpowered projectile, Veritum was a limited weapon system. Most Ritual Plate Pilots saw it as an auxiliary weapon system. Useful for specialized ground bombardment or anti-mage roles. The small size of the "pebbles" launched lack or propulsion, and that the energy was stored in a physical projectile made it harder to detect than other munitions.

Despite various management systems sweat had started to pool. Which given my inverted angle meant that it was trickling up my neck seal. Missiles exploded around me, as I flicked and maneuvered. But like my scrying systems I could not focus solely on air defense. This mad dash had a purpose.

More than being a missile magnet.

Visha and VioletBlood did their best, and GreyDawn continued her careful, precise firing solution.

Sweat dripped off my chin and my Display flickered with a series of blasts that hit my wards. The status board of my suit flicked from mostly green to a lot of angry orange as many fault alerts went off. I flicked over the board and was relieved that my Gorgon Rig and the data uplink were still functional.


"Prideful, parasitic Countess, did you really think you were strong enough to challenge a` Rodswor?" Samoth purred over the open channel.

Just a bit longer. Various lines had almost started to intersect on my Display.

"GreyDawn, would you kindly?" I ordered over the Flight channel.

Samoth's words continued as missiles blew up as I curled into a ball. "Maybe you took in a bit much of my sister's pride and n-"

The Blue Daisy pebbles that GreyDawn had seeded the sky with detonated. The heavy rain was some benefit as it provided a bit of scatter to help obscure the unpowered, tiny projectiles. Not to mention Samoth was busy managing a lot of missiles while doing air-to-air combat and evading while in a very busy sky.

Maybe her scrying systems missed them, maybe they were not seen as a priority. Munitions designed to clear trees and make landing zones blue up among the Zioxan flight. Well a handful did, most had drifted too far away in their flights, but enough did.

The Veritum Launcher was a limited system. Given the maneuverability of Ritual Plate, it would take a rare circumstance to have the enemy not simply fly out of range. However, imagine you were diving on an enemy. That helped mitigate the range issues. Provided the enemy wanted to stay in roughly a known area.

But that would require being able to goad the enemy into meeting one head-on. And even then... well someone had to focus all their scrying capability on providing targeting data.

Still firing against the incoming, I smirked over the view of two of the remaining Satori being critically damaged by the Blue Daisies and the dazed remainder jumped by Mercy's Flight.

Then my wards failed.

Samoth might not be able to direct the enemy incoming; the dumbly loyal Toulon still came in. My display flickered as I curled into a ball and I felt the armor on my leg get blasted apart, a side of my torso take a hit that bloomed with pain and a sickly wetness that now started to flood down my neck. I started to tumble and what had been a dive turned into an uncontrolled fall as my Zephyr reacted to my pain.

Something hit the back of my helmet. Maybe a bit of debris or a small fragment, it could not have been that big of a deal, as I was still alive. The medical system made it obvious given the warnings it was flashing and the analgesics and coagulants and other injections.

The status board had turned all sorts of ominous colors. It was interesting that one could become lightheaded when head down. I thought all the blood would pool towards the brain. I could see plenty of blood headed towards me.

I still had my Falx Projector and one Pilum, but something must have happened as my accuracy was wrong, even without full Display support I should not be this sluggish or... floaty.

Oh good, LoveBlood was still taking out the last of the missiles, and Visha was flying far too close to me for regulations. Odd, I knew all the Flight Ops alerts and all the suit alarms, but I was not familiar with one that was just a long steady ring. It was really hard to hear anything else.

I then laughed at the altimeter. I wondered which would drop surface altitude, that or the falling suits of Samoth and her Pilots.

Comforting my Zephyr, I noticed something coming over the command channel but it was hard to hear.

Then Visha grabbed me. I would have to reprimand her for breaking formation, but things were starting to grey out. At least my wingwoman stopped me from spinning uncontrollably, though I still had an embarrassing level of vertigo and wondered if my instruments were broken, as something was wrong.

At least my Zephyr were happy to be near Visha's. I made a note to do more training with our air spirits, to give them some more intellectual stimulation. After that it got very hard to think.

++++++

A downside of my species healing capabilities meant that I was rotated back to Forward Operating Base EmeraldInferno with worrying speed. Granted I did have a couple days to enjoy the facilities of our main base in House Crocelli, and I got to spend some time with Octavia and Primus Caenis, Quirinus's second in command.

There were also very polite conversations with medicos specializing in Trauma Accumulation over multiple days before we were sent back. Without us the 6th Squadron was down to 2 Flights. Though there was no bringing back Antonia FlashTalon.

Our flight back to EmeraldInferno was on a resupply Umbra, at least we had a good escort. Still part of me was anxious at being a passenger in an aircraft. At least this time there was no expectation for me to jump out in midair.

When I returned, I found my Polyxo had also been repaired, but my Ritualista team had a few more things to check out. Tests that could only be done with the Pilot inside the Ritual Plate.

Thus I was back in the hangar annex, wearing my Polyxo, and my crew chief Optio Suzette Gibbs was up to her forearms in the interior of the lower parts of the right leg of my armor.

"Ma'am, there are limits to how much damage the maneuvering and power systems are supposed to take," she stated in that polite but firm tone all mechanics used when they were talking to pilots who had abused their machines.

"I'll note that the next time I'm being deluged by missiles," I stated, trying not to cough at the incense one of her assistants, IvoryTail, had lit before she started working on my helmet's systems, which had a bright spot in the back where a dent had been removed. The white haired Ritualista, IvoryTail, ran an emerald-tipped probe down the engravings on the inside and outside of my helmet. Her green eyes narrowed in focus as she checked that the enchantments had been repaired.

A golden-haired, pony-tailed blonde, Flavia, was setting up a casting for my power and weapons systems, complete with the working circle over the power cell and cabling to the various parts that would simulate feeds to propulsion or wards. Only a bit taller than me, and probably only due to her dainty hooves, Flavia was setting up an evocation to make sure the suit's energy distribution artificing was solid. It was only a low-power test. If the suit passed that, then Flavia would do another full power test, in an isolated, shielded part of the hangar, without me in it.

My Flight Armor had already passed a full power proof test yesterday, but I did not object to another test. It was prudent and part of the procedures. The fourth Ritualista on my crew, Laurentia whose dark blue skin contrasted nicely with her pale braided hair, was using a Legion issue wind chime, ostensibly more robust than a civilian version, to commune with my Zephyr to make sure they were happy and comfortable. The actual flight tests to make sure they could provide the necessary thrust and maneuvering would come later.

Gibbs snorted and adjusted a few struts and went to the lower part of my boot. "How's the fit?"

"It feels like I'm wearing high heels." I flatly stated. "You know I had my calf muscle blown out?"

"You're fine, Ma'am," Gibbs stated. "That's easy to grow back. Do you know how much of your suit's power systems I had to redo? The other Ritualista complained about me taking too much from our parts stores to do it."

I gave her a flat look. I knew she was just venting; no Ritualista would spend limited parts to fix one heavily damaged suit when the same parts could repair three lightly damaged RP. Triage was applied to more than just physical injuries.

Though that was just an example as not all parts were not fungible. Despite work on making commonality of components to ease maintenance and logistics, Ritual Plate were still extremely complicated weapons systems.

My team continued to fuss and test over my Ritual Plate. It was soothing and comfortable to be back into my suit. The familiarity and power was back and I found I wanted to get back into the air.

"Impressive work," I said after reviewing the diagnostics for myself.

"It's a good thing you've got the best Ritualista team in the squadron," Gibbs confidently said. "Realigning your Falx and Pilum emitters is normally a four hour process."

"Good job," I said, praising my crew and trying not to cough at the incense. The Zephyr did like it so I would endure.

After a few more tests, they undid the various latches and let me out of my Ritual Plate. Flexing my wings and stretching my tail, I then rolled my shoulders and adjusted my flight suit.

"We'll have everything ready for when your Flight gets on Standby status," Gibbs assured, gesturing to three suits in addition to mine.

I bowed my horns to her and the rest of the maintainers and stepped out of the annex. Outside it was another sweltering day, at least it was just lightly raining, no more than a drizzle, and the overhead camouflage netting gave some shade.

Going around the hangar I found the quiet spot, which had a metal improvised roof now and a few scavenged seats in addition to the bench. Lares and GreyDawn were back there watching out over the mortar pits and the artillery positions.

The hulking Forest Person sat in a chair that was made out of a pair of pallets and some ropes. It was large enough to fit his frame. GreyDawn sat on the bench. She offered me her canteen.

"Good to see the local boy from Eastern Province is doing well," I said after taking a swig.

Lares shrugged. "Good to have you back."

"Oh, was there trouble with me gone?" I looked to GreyDawn.

"Of course not, the Baroness was a shining example of BlackSkyvian noble virtues," GreyDawn dryly said taking back the canteen and having a swig of her own.

"And Visha?" I asked, glancing up. A Spatha Light VTOL was coming in for a landing. I did not recall any Recon Patrols were coming back at this moment. Wait no, that was not one of the Spatha assigned to EmeraldInferno.

GreyDawn shrugged. "Everyone likes Visha."

I sighed. "I'll talk with LoveBlood."

"Among other talks?"

"Quirinus has gone over the action reports with us." Caenis and myself had actually helped draft some of them while we recovered, which were supplemented by the actual combat recordings and the work Quirinus and Mercy were doing. I nodded to the older woman. "We did good. You did good."

"I heard it got pretty heavy out by Vihn," Lares noted. "Not just Ziox suits but actual Pilots too.

"Yeah, Ziox decided to commit forces," GreyDawn said.

I wangled a finger, my tail swishing. "Those were technically mercenaries. Samoth Rodswor tendered a formal complaint to her Dictatrix and is operating independently on a personal vendetta."

"Against your squadron?" Lares asked.

"Against me, for killing her sister," I added.

The big shaggy yeti stared at me. "That thing from when you were twelve, in all the cinema newsreels. That's what this is all about."

I shrugged. "It's an excuse. I guess she sounded mad and tried to taunt me, but that could have just been to get plausible deniability."

"It could be personal, too; I mean how would you feel if some kid in an unarmed cadet suit killed one of your sisters?" he asked.

I glanced to GreyDawn who flicked her tail noncommittally. "Given my older sisters are far better Pilots than I am? Pretty impressed."

Lares raised his heavy brows. "Your mother is Duchess SilverFlight."

"One of them," I cheerfully said.

"The rest of our Flight are in the barracks," GreyDawn said.

"Together?"

"Well no, Visha's in her rack reading, and LoveBlood was catching up with Octavia in the mess, at least that's where they were when I left out here."

I bowed my horns to her. "Thanks, we'll talk more later."

Trying to do my best to stay behind the visibility barriers, I went to the low-slung prefab and then sandbagged the building complex that made up most of the barracks. Samoth was right in that it would not take too much in terms of intelligence operations to look for a Ritual Plate Pilot with a rare wing style and coloration. Especially one who was part of a Squadron of a somewhat rarer Ritual Plate model.

The barracks themselves were clean enough, and were cooler than the outside, though the humidity was bad. Still the living conditions, and the food made FOB EmeraldInferno on the upper end of postings.

Which was more of a sign of how bad military postings could be, instead of a suggestion that this was a comfortable posting. I saluted the guards with a tap on my neck and ducked through the doorway, making sure to use a side entrance to avoid the mess area.

I wanted to talk to my wingwoman first.

As Centurions, the Pilots got slightly nicer accommodations. Though out here that came to the dozen, eleven now, of us were split into a couple rooms. The fifty or so Ritualista were also split up. The other squadron was similarly split up.

This was the classic issue of centralization versus decentralization. Having all your Pilots, and their maintainers, in one area meant that a single strike could take them all out. However spreading them out meant they were harder to defend and it might be easier to slip in infiltrators or other attacks.

Drawing on their experience the Legions went for a compromise solution. Which given to a Forward Operating Base has a limited footprint to begin with was unavoidable. Still this meant that while I shared a room with five other Pilots there was at least some semblance of privacy, if cramped conditions. At least we all had our own rack, so there was no need for hot-bunking. Not that too many of our kind minded that.

I shook my head, crazy demons.

Entering the small bunkroom I saw that Visha had it to herself at the moment. Which was not unexpected as the room consisted of my Flight and Octavia and Mercy Gabinus from Second Flight.

Visha had already rolled over so she was sitting up on her bunk. "Primus! Uh, how did everything go? Is your suit ready?"

"Everything is good," I sat down across from her.

She smiled, the tip of her tail flicking.

Our knees were almost touching, I patted hers. "Thank you, for saving me."

She gasped. "I couldn't just let you fall!"

I smiled. "It's still appreciated."

Visha nodded. "You took a lot of risks."

"I was best positioned and it allowed you to take out missiles while GreyDawn could help target the enemy. And I had the most skills to act as the final line. It was the logical play."

Visha put her hand over mine. My tail froze. "You've always been a good commander."

"Careful..." My heart sped up; if it got out that we were reincarnations that would raise our profile. Questions would be asked. There would be complications. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I had plenty of reason to be concerned.

"I will," she bowed her head. "It's just you can push yourself too hard."

"With good reason. Given the fight we just survived."

She looked into my eyes and we were silent for a moment.

"Quirinus is a good Squadron commander. This isn't like an... earlier command." I stated. While it came with many downsides, I was largely free to run the 203rd how I liked in our previous lives. An independent elite command had its advantages but came at the cost of being deployed to take care of the worst messes the Empire faced.

"It could be, or.." Visha turned my hand over. "There is... um... your future."

I nodded. Unless I died or screwed up in some other way, Squadron command was inevitable, long before my 20-year term in the Legions ended. If I was lucky I could get promoted to Tribune and have some desk or adjunct job supporting a Volantes Legate. There was also whatever that archangel wanted out of us, but if he objected to me having a few years in a safe rear-echelon posting...

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be at my side," I assured Visha as I lifted our hands.

"Countess," VioletBlood said as she barged into the room. "GreyDawn said you were here-"

The Baroness looked between us with a little frown on her face as her tail still.

I slowly let go of Visha's hand and turned to her. "Yes, LoveBlood?"

VioletBlood blinked. "What? But... I wanted... you said you were waiting..." the noble whined.

Exhaling, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What do you think is going on?"

"You're holding hands with that Islander commoner," VioletBlood stated. "The one you've been flying with!"

"It's not like that," Visha assured. "There's nothing to be jealous of."

I wondered if the Baroness would believe her. Her green eyes looked between us, then her wings ruffled and she seemed somehow even more pitiful.

"That makes it worse!" Wailing, VioletBlood's tail drooped. "I could understand being beaten by someone who is a more experienced Pilot, and you do fly well and it's not like Tauria marrying a commoner would be that scandalous, especially if you keep getting honors at the rate you do.

"But Countess, aren't you thinking at all about your future? You have a county to run, a future to prepare for, heirs to raise. Yes, you're not likely to inherit your mother's duchy unless something horrible happens to all your sisters, but you do have a duty to the House."

I looked at Visha.

"She's not wrong. There are responsibilities that come with your permission," Visha said.

I felt a headache coming on. "LoveBlood, Visha. I'm barely a teenager. This can wait."

"That's what you said last year!"

"Yes, and I'm still right," I growled. Crazy demons.

I looked between the pouting women. "You are Ritual Plate Pilots; Centurions in the Imperial Legions; you are professionals. Or was I wrong?

"You're not wrong, Ma'am," Visha stated.

"And do I need to inform Prefect Quirinus that I need her to approve a transfer?"

"You do not need to, Primus," VioletBlood gave a rigid salute.

I returned and kept in a sigh.

"Don't be too worried," Visha assured her. "Just have patience. I'm sure it will work out for you."

VioletBlood gave a slow blink. As she looked from Visha to me and back, her tails started to swish. "Oh... so that's how it is?" she asked, her haughty smugness returning.

Visha gave a little shrug.

"What?" I asked, not at all frantically. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry, Primus," VioletBlood purred. "If you need patience, then... that's a small enough request."

This time Visha's smile did not reassure me.

VioletBlood sat down. On Visha's bunk. Right next to her. "Countess, when we get back we may need to make a few arrangements."

I glanced to the door. Part of me hoped for an interruption, but I knew articulating that desire would make things worse: it just might be granted.

The baroness shook her head. "Not like that, just some lessons. Deal with some of your rough edges."

"Deportment classes are very common for young officers. Especially nobles like the both of you," Visha stated as her tail flicked. It was nice to have someone helping me who knew how to wrangle headstrong, bloodthirsty noble Pilots.

My tail twitched as I tried to keep a firm emotional mask. "You are correct that many do take such lessons."

VioletBlood bowed her horns to Visha before turning to me she put her hand on her knee which nearly touched mine. "It's good that you're taking this seriously. We will have an image to maintain, a standard we will be measured against."

I stared at her. We were in a muddy Forward Operating Base in the middle of a jungle hell and had just gone through a running ground support and air to air fight in the pouring rain where one of our squadron mates died and many were seriously injured, including myself.

And she was talking about the need for us to take lessons in which spoon to have soup with and how to tell the maid which doilies were proper? Propping my hands on my knees I exhaled.

"It might make things easier for you," Visha said as she put her hand on mine.

"We are looking out for you," VioletBlood added, mirroring the gesture and capturing my other arm.

I was trapped. I needed a way out.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter!" I eagerly barked, going to my feet and folding my hands.

One of Quirinus' Ritualista saluted us. "Ma'am, the Prefect wants to speak with you."

"Of course," I nodded. "May I ask about what?"

"Can't say, Ma'am, but she's got someone else who flew in with her."

Feeling disquiet I nodded and followed my escort out. I was not sure if that was because I was worried about the meeting or worried about leaving Visha and VioletBlood alone with each other.

++++++

The briefing rooms in FOB EmeraldInferno were nothing special. There were some Display capabilities and communications that could be set up, but really they were just a room with a table and some chairs.

Quirinus was already there, as well as a Centurion I did not recognize. Tall and striking, she had ivory skin even paler than mine, long black hair and grey curled horns. Her wings had black feathers and she had jet-black, silver-trimmed, hooves. She was dressed in standard Legion lorica that had what looked like normal wear and tear.

Outside the briefing room waited about half a squad of Legionaries. Their gear was similarly standard. And they had the expected modifications making the lorica a bit more breezy, carried more water, and the other minor equipment modifications of Legionaries in a jungle posting

They looked like a light, somewhat undermanned, Recon patrol and their patches bore that out.

However my suspicions were raised the second I sat down in the briefing room and the door was closed behind me, and our visitor took out a small forked crystal and tapped it, setting off a privacy field. My horns buzzed a bit with the baffling signatures generated by the field.

"Ah, the Countess has arrived; you can call me Centurion Nihilus," the black-haired demon said, her grey eyes sparkling.

A Centurion was often in charge of a Recon Patrol. However....

She smiled. It was warm but there was an edge to it.. "Your commander can vouch for my bonafides, right Artemis?"

That casual attitude with someone who was her superior. Technically Centurion Nihilus was the lowest ranked person in this room, but she was not acting like it.

"Yes, Invidia," Quirinus sighed. "This woman is who she says she is."

"Ah, I'm not saying any such thing," Invidia smirked.

I kept in a sigh but gave my commander a look.

Quirinus nodded

"I take it you are a Reconnaissance specialist then?" I asked.

Invidia bowed her horns. "One with a broader remit."

Quirinus shot me a warding look, but then nodded.

Managing not to swear; I kept my emotions in check. Wonderful, Invidia was an agent of the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance. CSR was the military intelligence branch of House BlackSky.

One advantage they had over the various Imperial intelligence organs of my previous life was that CSR took the "Cultural" part of their name seriously. Much of their effort was spent on understanding the culture, industry, ideology, society, factions, arcana, history, transport, and commerce of other Houses and Polities.

Given the layers of proxies and catspaws in the House Crocelli's Eastern Interior Confederation, I would have been shocked if CSR was not active here.

"You sure can find them, Artemis," she remarked with a smile. "Though even for you to have a protegee get the Crown of the Preserver is quite the feather in your cap."

My tail flicked. "Is this about the late Rodswor sisters?"

"Obviously." Invidia's wings ruffled. "You made quite the impression."

I sighed. "Please tell me this was not actually some sort of revenge plot."

The spy's lip curled up. "No. While Battle-Lady Samoth Rodswor would happily kill you to avenge her sister's death, she was not terribly fond of Zaphania."

Snorting, I shook my head. "It was all a pretext to pretend that these weren't Zioxan regulars we killed?"

Quirinus gave a tiny sigh.

"Confirming that is not why I am here, Countess," Invidia smirked.

My tail stilled. Was this about my past life? Or was it something about my mothers? Did my Duchess do something illegal? Or did Mother Clementia get in trouble with the Church?

"Oh, you didn't do anything wrong." Invidia's laugh was cold. "Other than passing out before your girls could finish the job."

I narrowed my eyes.

Invidia murmured smugly.

"She's alive?" The first thought that hit me was this would really complicate the wager I made with the rest of the squadron. It would be easy, but bad for morale to come out and say "We failed. Nobody wins." I would have to come up with something.

"Using the combat footage, telemetry and standard analytical methods, we both confirmed which enemy pilots were killed and worked with local allied assets to recover as many of the Zioxan Satori and Tjardu suits. That is after Garrison and House Crocelli's Jungle Hunters cleared out Vihn."

"Ah, I was not available for that operation," I stated.

"You weren't," Invidia agreed with false cheer. "But we did what we could. The Diluvian retreat was not the most organized, but they did manage to pull out some assets and many of their wounded. However there was much they could not recover."

I pinched my nose. "Samoth was not among the dead."

"About a Flight's worth of Suits were not accounted for." Invidia shrugged. "Obviously, that does not preclude the possibility that the Pilots the Diluvians recovered were not already dead nor that they died from their wounds."

"But that's not a prudent assumption to make," I stated. I had personal experience with how badly one could get wounded and still survive, provided one got medical attention.

"It is not." Quirinus agreed.

"Does this mean now I've got some Zioxan noble after me?"

"I wouldn't say that," Invidia corrected.

"Oh?"

"Well, not the revenge part." Invidia waved her hand. "Yes Samoth might not take her sister's death personally, but she might take the loss of her squadron-mates as more of an affront."

I blinked. "Wait... what are you disagreeing about?"

"The Rodswors are not nobility."

I thought back to Samoth's parasite comment. "I see."

"That is part of Zioxan rhetoric against the nobility of our House and many other Great Houses," Quirinus said.

"But Samoth was set to take the command role of her older sister, and they are ruled by a Dictatrix," I stated.

Invidia flashed her teeth. "Yes, but they see it as authority coming from Ziox herself bestowed to those most worthy. As opposed to the hereditary structures of our system, ones separate from our Imperatrix."

"And I suppose reminding them that I was born a commoner and was elevated due to killing her elder sister would not dissuade such hate." I shook my head.

Invidia gave that cool haughty laugh. "On the contrary! It underscores how the merit advancement for our nobles is soaked in blood. They make the same argument for those who are elevated for industrial, academic, or developmental achievement, that it all is part of serving our war machine."

Which is not entirely wrong, I admitted to myself. "And what is she going to keep throwing Ritual Plate at me until one of us dies?"

"That would be an expensive proposition, especially for a 'mercenary'. Revenge is rarely profitable," Invidia playfully stated.

"And if she's subsidized by House Ziox?" Quirinus asked.

"That is why I am warning you. It is not just our little Countess who may be targeted, but your entire squadron Artemis."

"We are Imperial Legionaries, risk is part of the job," Quirinus stated. "Though being aware of such risks is an advantage."

I made myself nod. Combat risks were one thing, but having someone with access to Ritual Plate with a personal vendetta was a new level. CSR had warned me about this months ago, but that was a theoretical, now the risk of Samoth was far more likely.

"And this is why my Office exists," Invidia bowed her horns to me. "Now Countess, what can my associates do for you?"


End Chapter 13


I'm sure Tauria doesn't need to worry too much about her career, especially with fellow Legionaries there to help her.

Special thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead , @WrandmWaffles, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

And apologies, I posted this early before all of Readhead's changes were in. Thanks again for going over the chapter I think it really helps smooth the flow and sharpen things.
 
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Chapter 14: Verbum Vincet
The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple

Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:

Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.

Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 14: Verbum Vincet


My toes sank into the sand as small waves splashed over my legs. As I tried to keep my wings dry and clear of the lapping water, I looked across the sea towards the north. Across the bottle-green expanse of the Guardia Sea was... my home.

Eastern Province and Bovitar were about two thousand miles away from the beach I currently stood upon. That said the islands off the coast of Cape Niflhel, the closest part of House BlackSky were only about half that distance away.

I let my tail dip into the pleasantly warm water. Out in the sea, between the horizon and I and blocking my homeward view across the waves, was an Alecton Navy Howe class Fleet Missile Cruiser, accompanied by a BlackSkyvian Jarngreipr class Frigate.

At about four thousand, five hundred gross tons the Jarngreipr was closer to the frigates of my first life than the vessels of my second life. But funnily enough, the Jarngreipr was the largest surface combat vessel House BlackSky could call its own. Officially a part of the Household Fleet, the BlackSkyvian Navy was more of a strange offshoot of an airship-dominated service rather than coequal force all its own. But even the air power-focused House BlackSky had thankfully realized that there were some roles that a surface, or subsurface, warship filled for more neatly than a swarm of Ritual Plate units would.

I inhaled the salty air. It was nice to be out of the jungles for once.

Despite being called a frigate, the Jarngreipr was more heavily armed than a Mace Torpedo Destroyer airship. It carried two Spatha Light VTOLs, as opposed to the Mace's single unit. The highly agile aerial airframes were useful for resupply, anti-submarine warfare, and a multitude of other support roles. The heavier armament included more Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes, more Vel missile launchers, two RP squadrons compared to the Mace's one squadron, a Tormenta's worth of four 4.9in guns, and a suite of conventional aquatic torpedoes.

In light of the fact that, despite being longer, the Mace was a tenth the weight of the Jarngreipr, the difference in armament was understandable. One had the buoyancy to float in air, the other had the buoyancy to float on seawater. Of course despite its relatively modest armament, the Mace Destroyer was the far more mobile platform and relied upon speed, standoff capabilities and wards for armor.

Relatively powerful though the Jarngreipr class was, the nearby Howe cruiser had nearly three times the displacement. The Howe was amongst the largest of House Alecto's surface combat ships and was certainly the largest model produced in significant numbers. In addition to the Howes, the Alecton Navy also retained two squadrons of heavily refitted fast battleships, some battlecruisers that were more of pocket fleet leaders for colonial patrols, and enough amphibious assault ships to move a respectable quantity of Alecton Marines and their equipment.

I gave happy a sigh and stepped deeper into the water. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my wings dry and safe from the waves. I knew it was a struggle that could only end in the inevitable, but I sought to put that dire end off for as long as I could; after all once they got wet, my feathers would become a magnet for sand.

House Trosier had taken a slightly different view on naval power and doctrine than their rival House Alecto. The Trosic Armada worked to minimize their surface assets by two methods: first by fielding smaller and faster surface ships, and second using more submersible assets, including some impressive submersible RP carriers. Though, as larger submarines, they were a bit nosier than stealthier, and much smaller, BlackSkyvian equivalents. The Armada still had a core of capital vessels and airships then they operated in force.

All three Houses made use of submarines. Both airborne RP carriers and submarine launch platforms were made practical by the lightweight nature of RP and the relatively small resource footprint required to field Flights. Considering the damage a hit-and-run attack by a submarine-based RP Flight could inflict before retreating back below the waves, submarines were an essential part of all three Houses' fleets.

The clouds moved overhead, stealing my sun and leaving me in their shadow. The Trosic Armada's doctrine was largely influenced by having to counter both the BlackSkyvian Household Fleet and the Alecton Navy. Where House Alecto could count on the massed air fleets of House BlackSky being allied or at least not a threat.

The shadow grew deeper over me. I knew I was not alone on the beach. "Primus?" Visha asked. A hand waved in front of me.

"Is she okay?" the baroness asked as she splashed up next to me.

Visha looked to me and then back out to ships far off-shore. "Ah, she's distracted."

"Is our countess thinking deep thoughts again?"

"We are near Usang, which is a major Alecton city," Visha mused.

"And naval base," I added automatically. "It's the home port of their Fourth Central Fleet. Interestingly, the Fourth has a larger than expected complement of Hammerhead Attack Subs and Kraken Missile Submarines."

"Yes?" Visha asked. The dark blue swimsuit she had on was quite nice, if a bit daringly cut with thin straps around the shoulders and hips.

Stamping a foot in the water, VioletBlood sighed. She wore a rather fancy silver suit that I wondered if she had packed as part of her kit. "You're encouraging her."

"Combined with the two Ruyter class amphibious assault ships stationed here, plus a cruiser squadron and a fleet carrier complement, the Fourth's composition speaks volumes about Alecto's intentions to close the Guardia Sea to House Trosier," I explained.

VioletBlood took my arm. "Tauria... we're on leave."

"We are in a very important part of the world," I countered and started gesturing. "One of the southern tips of Diyu is a thousand miles that way. We're in one of the larger coastal concessions of House Alecto, behind that is the Minor House Crocelli, and yet further south is their Eastern Interior Confederation."

"We are all aware of that. How many months did we spend in that swamp keeping the peace?" VioletBlood demanded.

"I would not exactly call that a peace keeping mission. You see, our role was more along the lines of protecting a strategic asset while the actual counter-insurgency work was carried out by our... local allies."

VioletBlood rolled her eyes at me.

"Now who's encouraging her?" Visha teased.

Flicking her tail through the water, VioletBlood harrumphed. "Maybe we should have had her wear a hat. She might be getting too much sun."

"I am not getting too much sun!" I stamped my foot, ignoring how petulant it must have looked.

"Maybe she's dehydrated. Primus, do you want a drink?" Visha asked.

"I suppose..." I turned away from the sea and looked back up the beach. The rest of our squadron, and our maintainers were here. Roughly a light century's worth of personnel, all told. And the Immunes century of combat engineers a bit further up the beach were also enjoying themselves. This part of the coast was a private beach belonging to the resort facilities Alecto had leased to House BlackSky for the purposes of R&R. Which of course meant that the resort required a fair amount of security. Which explained the Yew coastal boats out the water and the RP on overwatch.

"She's doing it again," VioletBlood sighed as she leaned in and stared into my eyes.

"Maybe we should get her some lunch," Visha pulled my arm.

The smell coming from the converted drum grills was enticing. And there was a fair amount of beverages, and not just alcoholic ones. "I should get my share..." I allowed.

Given Samoth's probable survival, I had decided to give the whole squadron a consolation prize and covered the consumables for this particular outing.

Being in House Alecto's territory did mean that it was fairly easy to purchase such supplies.

"You got her that fancy suit and she didn't even swim yet?" GreyDawn asked as she lounged in a beach chair, her crimson hair pulled back in a rough ponytail. She was sipping a glass of ginger schnapps over ice and was nibbling a pita with some sort of savory meat filling.

"She keeps plotting," VioletBlood pouted.

"We think she's just hungry," Visha said, leaning close to me.

"At least you got her into the swimsuit," GreyDawn noted, taking a long sip as she stretched her wings out to better catch the sun.

"It's fluffy," I growled, refusing to look down at the ruffled and bowed confection I was wearing.

"It's fuchsia, and I gave you options," VioletBlood said.

"The other one was pink! And a bikini!" I growled.

"You didn't have to wear anything."

"It's not a nude beach!" I retorted with another highly mature foot stomp.

GreyDawn slowly blinked at me. "She hasn't seen her Ritualista has she?" the older Pilot asked VioletBlood.

"What is Gibbs up to?"

"Not her. The little blonde one, Flavia."

VioletBlood rolled her eyes. "Of course she's naked. It's her suit that the Countess is borrowing."

"What? I didn't think to pack swimwear into a war zone." My tail flicked. My Ritualista volunteered to have me borrow this swimsuit. However... if she was going to be a nudist why did she even bring a suit? It's not like I was not going to give this back to her.

"Come on, let's get you some food," Visha put her arm through mine and pulled me along.

On the way up the beach we stopped and had a few quiet words with Octavia. She was taking the loss of her flight-mate rather well. Sofia had been a gregarious pilot with amber skin and short black hair. She had been with the Squadron for quite a while, and had originally been a member of the Flight I had taken over. And now, she was another casualty in our House's long-term "assistance" in stability, peace-keeping, or whatever they called securing our resource interests in this part of the Home plane.

Despite having been close to Sophia, I was not very worried about Octavia. I had more concerns about how Primus Mercy Gabinus was handling it. Octavia was the replacement of her last KIA.

It was no fault of Mercy's, but when you only had three Flights in a Squadron it only took a bit of bad luck to have one Flight get disproportionate casualties. And from there it was a short distance to getting a reputation as an "unlucky" Flight.

VioletBlood nudged me along. "Come on, Countess."

My tail whipped around and might have hit her. Which... glancing around at the horseplay, catch, and general recreation probably would not have been considered remarkable.

The smell of the grill was getting very enticing. Maybe my flight was right about me being hungry.... Sausages and kabobs were not my normal fare, but Quirinus was using a brush to spread various sauces that smelled great over the cooking meat. Not to mention whatever was in the improvised smoker. And Caenis had rigged up a pot of simmering oil and was frying bobbing bits of dough and had another pot full of cinnamon and sugar.

"Countess," Quirinus bowed her horns to me.

I somehow kept from smiling. Her floppy sun-hat was practical but it did slightly detract from her gravitas. She also had a full length black apron over her own teal bikini.

My squadron commander had no such limits and chuckled at my getup.

"I have been told I need to eat."

"Running on empty is bad for a Pilot," Quirinus stated soberly.

"I've got plenty of filling zeppole," Caenis said as she used a slotted metal scoop to fish out some of the frying pastries, gently shake them, then dump them into the sugar bucket.

VioletBlood's tail swished eagerly at that.

"That does sound good, and it's nice to be able to get Alecton food," Quirinus noted as she bowed her horns to me.

"We can still get local supplies to supplement our rations in the Interior," Caenis shrugged. Local supplies were always risky when you were part of an occupation. Yes, FOB EmeraldInferno was in an area rather far from Diluvian tribal lands. The Forward Operating Base was picked to give defensive depth to the mines and refinery that were the main reason House BlackSky cared enough to garrison troops here.

Still, it was a risk to pull in local supplies. It was a vector for sabotage.

"It's getting more expensive, no?" Visha asked between the happy noises she made over the grill.

"Some farmers in the Interior are having problems," Caenis said. The Eastern Interior Confederation had a fair number of areas that could support a lot of plant growth such as jungles.

"Poor harvests?" VioletBlood asked as she was given a bag full of warm little fried and sugared pastries. "I heard rumors of some Alecton overflights over agricultural regions friendly to the Diluvians."

Caenis' gold eyes shimmered. "Defoliants? That's a bit obvious, no?"

VioletBlood tilted her head as she started eating the zeppole. I frowned at her. "What then?"

"Well, clearing all that land is hard, what if other things were... seeded from the air? To encourage growth, but the wrong growth."

Quirinus gave her second in command a look as she filled a little carton with sausages and kabobs before going over to the smoker.

"Like invasive species?" VioletBlood made a thoughtful noise as she fed me a pastry.

I chewed and enjoyed the fluffy sweet pastry. If true, that could be diabolical, deliberately sowing things like kudzu, eucalyptus, or even just fast-growing weeds into enemy fields would increase farming difficulties. Weeding was hard enough in the Interior.

Slicing some smoked brisket she had pulled out of the smoker, Quirinus gave all of us a quelling gaze. "Such rumors are unfounded. And you all need to be a bit more careful when it comes to discussing any dirty deeds done by our allies." She handed the carton to Visha. "Be more like Centurion Shadow. She knows when to be silent."

No matter the species, messing with their food supplies was risky. Famines can break civilizations. And not being civilized was a stigma on Diyu, it was part of what separated the Great Houses from the Minor Houses, the Minor Houses from the city-state and tribes, and those from the savage, barbarian broods.

"Thank you Ma'am; it smells delicious," Visha bowed her horns to Quirinus.

VioletBlood's tail flicked and I could feel her desire to roll her eyes. I suppose she wanted to continue to gossip about "perfidious Alecto". They were an ally of House BlackSky, but they did have a reputation.

That does not mean that the other Great Houses were above such "dirty tricks" either. Though I suppose that was why the rumors were adding weeds. Unlike introducing rodents or blights weeds were a problem that could be surmounted, maybe with a few extra goats. I could see the rationale, the more energy and resources put into food production, the less the Diluvians could spare for combat.

Though, I suspected our questionable operations branch, the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance, had a whole variety of creative ideas when it came to sapping the Diluvians' will and capability to fight.

I had spent the bulk of my career in the legions trying to avoid the attention of CSR and after meeting with Centurion Nihilus I felt my instincts were correct.

"I'll get our drinks," I said, going over to the stamped aluminum coolers. I opened one and found it was full of chilled wine bottles and a good fraction of the Squadron's liquor stock. I went to the next double-walled cooler and found some bottles of sparkling juice, mostly pomegranate and citrus blends.

VioletBlood, who was still eating the occasional zeppole, frowned at me.

"Do you really need to drink?" Visha asked her.

"That ginger schnapps GreyDawn got seemed really enticing," the baroness pouted and looked to Quirinus.

Our squadron commander chuckled as she closed up the smoker and added more sausages and pierced some more of the bits of lamb, onions, peppers, and other vegetables to make more kabobs before putting them on the grill.

A few Ritualista from First Flight had ambled up and were being given more food. I averted my gaze as a couple had decided to go topless. Fortunately, Visha was helping me back to the towels over where GreyDawn was lounging.

Though by the way LoveBlood was smirking and swishing her tail, she had also noticed my discomfort. "You are such a bashful, Countess. You're in the Legions, you know how showers are in the barracks. If you wanted fancy things like privacy you should have gone into the Fleet."

I snorted. Conditions on fleet airships could be a bit more spacious, at least on larger airships. Lighter-than-air craft were limited by mass more than volume. Smaller airships however... were cramped in both mass and volume. Either way, a Fleet Airship was still a military airship and was not going to be exactly luxurious when it came to crew berthing. "It's not that."

"We were also cadets together and in the ballet troupe," VioletBlood gave a little smirk to Visha, to show off what the baroness presumed as her knowing me for longer.

I sighed. For her part, Visha did seem a bit jealous. Which did not make any sense. Unless she was being really committed to the false history we had agreed on, that is the lack of history.

"Really, I'm not sure why you're worried about the bathing suit. Given the leotards you've worn up on stage."

"That's different," I pouted.

VioletBlood looked to Visha for clarification.

"Our Primus has her quirks," Visha stated as she put the carton down and shook the beach towel free of sand.

GreyDawn looked up and took a sip of her drink. Which had somehow been refreshed while we were away getting our own food and drink. Idly, I wondered when she had gotten up to get more ice.

"You're just buttering her up," VioletBlood said, eating another pastry. I noticed she had already eaten a quarter of the bag's contents.

Visha tilted her head. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you want to play double's Liar's Dice with GreyDawn after lunch."

GreyDawn nodded. "That would be fun, those Combat Engineers up the beach are ripe targets."

"This is what happens when no one in the squadron wants to play against you two," I noted as I sat down. Even with the towel as an insulator the sand was warm. It felt a bit odd to have my tail go out onto the beach and swish.

"They won't play for serious odds, Ma'am," GreyDawn said to me as Visha handed her a kabob.

"It's still fun to play, you really get to know people when you have a bit of dice or cards with them," Visha said happily as she sliced open a buttered sourdough bun she had gotten from somewhere, slid a sausage into it, and offered it to me.

I bit into the sausage in a bun and chewed. Visha was always very skilled at bluffing and reading people, and GreyDawn could calculate odds and strategize betting. They made a very effective team.

"They can go off and play some games." VioletBlood smiled at me. "We could go flying or maybe for a swim."

Visha shrugged and gave me a kabob, ready to be consumed as soon as I finished my first nosh.

"I'm not in any great rush." I shrugged as I finished off the little sausage. It was not too spicy, but the mix of herbs added to the meat blend had given the link a zesty kick.

"We could just relax," Visha offered.

"And later today we could go out, maybe see a play. There is a theater here. It would be in Bantish, but it should be a bit civilized."

GreyDawn seemed amused at the baroness' antics.

"The Prefect might have something planned for tonight too," Visha reminded.

"I was thinking before that!" VioletBlood said, a bit petulantly.

I bit into the lamb. It was moist and delicious with a light spicing. Our squadron commander had a surprising variety of skills, one of them being cooking. Lamb was so lean that it was hard to keep from drying out, especially over coals. I wondered if she used a special marinade or some other sort of cooking method to keep the meat nice and juicy.

The other vegetables on the metal skewers were perfectly handled, cooked without being burnt. If she wanted out of the Imperial Legions, I was sure Quirinus could easily get a job as a chef -and I'd be happy to write a recommendation to that effect if she ever asked.

Sadly for the hypothetical restaurant's customers, I doubted Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus, as a career centurion, had any plans to leave the Legions in the foreseeable future.

I would not begrudge her choice. She had been a good instructor when I was a cadet; as far as commanders went, she was thoroughly acceptable, and did not lack in any regard. Besides, it was impossible to ignore that she had take me under her figurative wing. To a degree, I guess that was expected, considering my young age and lack of previous seasoning. So, as good of a cook as she was, I had a vested interest in Quirinus staying in the Legions for as long as she could to continue to watch my back.

Since it was an open secret that I would have a squadron command of my own within a couple years if I did not get myself killed, that selfish desire was happily in line with the best interest of my organization. After all, being a sensible Legionary, Quirinus would want to make sure I could handle such responsibility before she left the service to prevent any post-retirement tarnishing of her sterling reputation.

I ate more of the kabob as my tail swished happily.

I appreciated the attention on her part. I would rather my superiors carefully have me grow into the command position made inevitable my own reputation, skills and noble ties, especially when the alternative was jumping me two grades and giving me a command I would have to scramble to staff, equip, train, and deploy.

Still, part of me did think that Quirinus had missed her calling by not becoming a professional chef.

I wondered if that part of me was just projecting my own concerns and how I was counting down the years and months until my term of service finished onto my current commanding officer.

"She's doing it again, Visha," VioletBlood pouted as she poked me with her own kabob.

"Am not!" I growled.

"Then what were you thinking about?" VioletBlood asked. "Some sort of bold tactic or flaw in our enemy's air power doctrine?"

"I was thinking about what I would be doing if I hadn't joined the Legions," I sighed.

VioletBlood blinked.

Right, she had wanted to be a Ritual Plate Pilot since before she could walk, let alone fly. She had also got her guardian to funnel a portion of her inheritance into Ritual Plate lessons.

"What would you have done?" VioletBlood asked before daintily chewing on a sausage. "I'm guessing you don't mean like the Fleet or an Auxilia. Maybe a Guild position? Your mother does have her own mercenary squadron, though most mercenary Pilots are veterans..."

"Maybe you'd do more ballet?" Visha suggested as she ate.

"Maybe. I could have gone professional with ballet," I joked, taking some of the fried sweets before LoveBlood ate them all. Being a ballerina was not that bad of a job. It came with travel and some status, and was fairly safe, if punishing on your feet. Demons with hooves did have an advantage. Yes, the costumes were humiliating, but it was just on stage.

"That is an elegant and cultured vocation," VioletBlood approvingly said.

"Maybe you can start doing it again, if it means that much to you!" Visha happily suggested.

Tail stiff, I stared at her.

VioletBlood frowned. "We did have to resign from the ballet troupe when we got assigned to Quirinus' squadron. And there really hasn't been much of a chance to practice out in the jungle."

I gave a little exhale.

"Maybe when we get rotated back to Bovitar," VioletBlood said.

Looking out over the water, I chewed my lip. "Maybe," I allowed before turning back around to look at the rest of the squadron. They were enjoying themselves. The revelry was still rather contained.

I had enough experience with soldiers to know that partying could get quite hardy. I was a bit surprised no one had hired any entertainers. I was sure the resort would have a roster of trusted providers. Maybe Quirinus had put out a quiet word that there would be none of that today. At least among her and Mercy's Flights.

"Have you ever visited Alecton territory?" VioletBlood asked Visha.

"There was a family vacation when I was younger," Visha said as she sipped her drink.

"And how was it? This seems very nice but I have heard their more northerly areas can be a bit... dreary."

"Oh, they're pleasant enough!" Visha assured the baroness after giving me a look. House Alecto had some similarities to the Allied Kingdom but with some of the low countries mixed in. Which in our lives were part of the Empire on their border to the sea with the Francois Republic.

And while some parts of House Alecto were rather temperate, such as their northernmost enclave on Atalia Island or their enclave on the southern part of Minor House Mergera, many of their areas were far warmer such as the territory we were in which was across from House BlackSky's southernmost point.

Though the Alecton home island was just a bit south of Amber Island, where Visha grew up, and about the same latitude as Bovitar so I suppose it was temperate enough.

"The currents and jet stream from the Curae Sea would make things warmer, I gather," I said after having another sausage.

VioletBlood shook her head at me. Did I really have a reputation for woolgathering?

"Yes, that is true," Visha agreed with me and I found my plate was refilled.

"I guess we have gone on a tour of..." VioletBlood paused. "Five Houses?" she asked, giving Visha a sly look. My wingwoman had missed out on our adventures in Andromache, RedStorm, and Vualia.

"Join the Legions, see the world," VioletBlood then laughed.

"You should be grateful, Baroness," I made a sweeping, imperious gesture. "Look at the lovely beach bestowed upon us by our Imperatrix."

VioletBlood and Visha smirked.

"We could go for a swim," VioletBlood offered.

I looked down at my suit and frowned and then pushed some sand with the fins on my tail.

"Don't worry about your wings," VioletBlood assured.

"I'm not worried about them!"

The baroness rolled her eyes and looked over at Visha. "She's very particular."

"She is," Visha agreed. "Maybe remind her that you have experience with feathers."

I glanced between the two.

"I have a cousin, who has dark blue feathers," VioletBlood assured. "I asked for a bit of advice and got some special shampoo and she did warn me about sand."

"Shampoo?" I knew how to groom myself. And that included my feathers. Normal soap and water was sufficient.

"It will add some more luster to them," VioletBlood reached out but held her hand inches from my wings. "They could be so very shiny."

I eyed the baroness who had, after months in a jungle FOB, put her hair back in her preferred drill-like curls. I could not begrudge her a little primping - we had all gotten cleaned up after all, as soon as we left the jungle. Besides, as a species we tended to be rather fastidious and vain, as well as gregarious and aggressive.

Even I had spent more time than was strictly necessary for purely hygienic purposes in the showers after we left the FOB, thoroughly washing out my hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. While far from VioletBlood's elaborate curls, the ponytail was better than the lank mess an perpetual helmet-hair of the last several months. Not that I would prioritize hair care over helmets, of course. While helmets played havoc with hair, I would take a good helmet over pristine hair any day of the week. Helmets as standard equipment was something that I had argued for, and gotten, for the 203rd. That and goggles.

I would not want to pilot a Ritual Plate without the helmet and face mask. Not just for the physical protection and environmental control but also the communication and data display systems.

VioletBlood smirked. "Are you thinking about fluffy wings or some bit of Legion kit?"

I glared at her.

"We can finish up our lunch and then go for a swim," Visha offered.

I shrugged.

"Or we could just take a nap on the warm sand on this nice towel," VioletBlood countered. "You know, be rested for tonight's entertainment."

I snorted. And had to keep from laughing at how the baroness seemed to droop.

"I think the Prefect will have a great night planned for all of us," Visha said.

"Yes, but our baroness was trying to make it sound salacious," GreyDawn drawled.

"Indeed, she was," I agreed.

VioletBlood pouted.

"You did mention wanting to visit, maybe get some Alecton culture?" Visha asked as she took the bag of pastries to give to me.

"There was that idea to see an opera." VioletBlood shrugged. "It's better than trying some R&R in House Crocelli."

"That is a larger security risk," I stated. "Well... depends on where you are."

"The Crocelli outside of the Interior Confederations is almost, um... more civilized," VioletBlood admitted.

I sighed at her.

"They are superstitious," the baroness haughtily said. "Maybe it's due to living out in the jungles."

"As opposed to the very urbane Eastern Province?" Visha innocently asked.

VioletBlood sniffed. "The Diluvians and the other tribes warn their children to not go out at night, to cover up their windows."

"Those jungles are full of predators," I reminded.

"Do you think the Navish are real? They're just a bedtime story."

I eyed her. "We use invisible spirits all the time. Zephyr can be powerful and the Notus spirits guiding our Torpedoes can be vicious."

"That's different. I'm not saying there aren't vicious spirits or predators out in there in the jungle somewhere, but that doesn't make every primitive superstition about lurking monsters true too."

I shook my head. "It doesn't really matter if the Navish are real or not. The Diluvians believe they stalk their villages, and... they're afraid of vengeful, predatory forest spirits..." I trailed off.

"What?" VioletBlood asked.

"Just thinking. Fear is powerful. And there are rumors..."

Visha looked at me.

I shook my head. No need to tell VioletBlood about the rumors of Alecton meddling and something CSR might be doing to help House Crocelli keep order.

VioletBlood chuckled. "Right, so you'll talk about crop sabotage but you're worried that we, I'm sorry, our allies might have dirty hands?"

I snorted. After talking with Invidia, I would not put much beyond the will of the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance.

"Have we heard anything about the replacement for Mercy's Flight?" Visha asked.

VioletBlood gave a slight smile at the attempt to change the subject.

"With my luck, it'll be another noble cadet pilot," GreyDawn said as she sipped her schnapps.

VioletBlood bristled.

"Yeah, it would be bad if our squadron got a reputation for handling young pilots."

The baroness gave me a hurt look.

"I would much rather have our cadets spend more time growing their skills and maturing before being sent into a combat posting."

"We did fine!" she huffed.

"Yes, but the point of the cadet program is to find talent early and give them extra training with Ritual Plate and then command lessons. Sending all those cadets into field postings defeats the purpose."

"It's like eating our seed corn," Visha added as she ate a kabob.

I nodded to her. "Exactly. Activating young Cadets robs future years of a crop of older and more experienced Pilots."

VioletBlood sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's just odd being some of the youngest Pilots in our entire Wing."

"House BlackSky does not, as a general rule, prefer child soldiers," I reminded. "We're exceptions."

The petulant pout to VioletBlood's glare underscored my point. She was a capable Pilot, but she was also a war maniac who got a bit too gleeful when it came to killing the enemy.

Visha nearly choked on her sausage as she laughed. After all, this was the second empire we had lived in that was willing to... bend the rules when it came to putting younger airborne mages into combat slots.

"Well, I could go for a swim," VioletBlood announced as she stood up and stretched out her wings. "Anybody coming with me?"

Visha gave me an interested look.

I pondered. Mostly I wondered if VioletBlood really wanted some younger little proto-Aces she could bully well... mould into followers. I would have to keep an eye on her, especially as one day LoveBlood would make Primus and have a Flight to command herself.

"Come on, Countess, I can see your wings twitching in anticipation," VioletBlood teased.

I finished off my lunch and then stood up and flicked my tail. Visha followed. Looking out I could see that a lot of the squadron's Ritualista were already swimming and, dare I say it, frolicking.

I gave a little smile. I should have done more with the 203rd when I had the chance. But given my age and my authority as the unit commander myself playing out on the beach with them could have undermined things. My age was less of an issue here, and I was just one Flight Leader.

Visha slipped into position. VioletBlood saw me tensing, but she reacted too slowly as I shoved her.... into Visha's arms. My wingwoman spun her lightly but I was already sprinting down the beach and had a head start.

I put out my wings and with a flap went airborne and coasted over the start of the water and gained just enough altitude to slip into the bottle-green water in a shallow foot-first dive. I was pretty sure that the water was deep enough that far out, but I wanted to be cautious, and not risk hitting my head on a rock or something.

Popping to the surface, I looked around to see that LoveBlood was about to land onto me, she had not been so cautious and was coming down head first. At least her arms were held in front of her.

There was a tangling ugly splash as we spun around before bobbing back up, Visha had swum up to us and shook her head.

I freed myself from the pouting baroness and paddled over to a bit of open sea and rolled onto my back. Wings and other limbs out, I looked up into the sky as I was carried by the waves. It was almost peaceful. I tried not to think too much about the airship I could see up in the sky. It looked like a civilian model. Probably shipping fast-moving supplies across the Gaudia Sea. Or maybe it had a destination further inland.

Visha and VioletBlood came over to me.

Both were smiling. That seemed rather ominous. Them working together was more harmonious but seemed to bring me more trouble.

Fortunately they merely pounced on me and, using her wingtip, Visha declared me "it" before she and VioletBlood then swam off.

I had a moment of shock as I rolled over to tread water. The two had even split up. Fine, if they wanted to make a challenge of it, I would show them. Kicking, I darted after VioletBlood.

Visha was taller and had longer legs and wings, and from her stories of growing up on Amber Island she had far more experience swimming.

VioletBlood tried to go fully underwater to escape me but that was folly. I quickly caught up to her and after a brief tumble I managed to tag her back. Next came the hard part: I had to escape.

Like air, water is a fluid. However, it is far denser and far more viscous. This is why aquatic combat and aerial combat, while having similarities, also have key differences. To my luck, VioletBlood went with her trained instincts and maneuvered as if she was in the air.

As she wallowed, I managed to dart away, and made a mental note that I needed to request some aquatic and diver training for my Flight.

Fortunately for Visha, VioletBlood had target fixation and focused on chasing me. I made a note to make this tag game a bit more complex. Swimming, I twisted around and led VioletBlood closer to Visha. Then with a gleeful burst, the Baroness took the bait and swapped targets, trying to tag the Islander Pilot.

My competitive edge began to wane as my feathers grew increasingly waterlogged, making them less effective and less maneuverable than the Vs'.

It did not take much longer for Visha to surge ahead on points. Though mildly disappointed at how handily I had been beaten, I took it as a lesson and added more aquatic training to my mental list.

VioletBlood was the first one to ask to get out of the water.

I hardly objected as I was more than willing to get out as well.

Despite carefully tracking across the beach to our blankets, a lot of sand did stick to my feet and legs and a bit was kicked up by my wings and tail.

GreyDawn had fallen asleep under her parasol. Moving around the squadron who were mostly playing and relaxing, Visha had run ahead to get some more food and refreshments.

She was already sitting down on the towel by the time I had so carefully walked up. VioletBlood for her part was following at my heel.

Kneeling down on the towel, I found Visha helping me stretch out and lay down. That was pretty comfortable, especially when she had more of those fried pastries.

VioletBlood for her part started cleaning my wings and using a special brush to preen them and remove any sand that had gotten in around my wing roots. It was oddly relaxing and reminded me of when Mother Clementia would help brush my hair and wings.

I might have yawned and Visha helped provide a place for me to put my head down which would give VioletBlood a better angle to work. It was nice to, for a small time, be able to put aside my concerns.

++++++

"Paymon-flagged freighter, you are entering restricted waters, prepare for boarding, reduce your speed to 10 knots and change your heading," the navy dispatcher said over an open channel in Silvan Latin before giving a course. She then repeated herself in Bantish and then Paymi.

My Flight and Mercy's, still down one, were configured in Strike mode complete with Lance projectors. Quirinus' Flight was configured for air superiority and acted as our escort.

One could argue that a Ritual Plate squadron was rather heavy air support for one supposedly merchant ship.

And that was right. The Legions had loaned us to the Fleet for this joint operation. A Household Fleet Jarngreipr class Frigate with a couple Mulberry Fast Attack Crafts were closing in. They would all stay at a respectable distance while the Spatha Light VTOLs on the Frigate deployed the boarding party. Each Fleet vessel had their own Ritual Plate Combat Air Patrol up just in case.

Which allowed us to act as a dedicated strike package.

Nearby an Alecton Navy Howe class Fleet Missile Cruiser lurked. Their role was less in case the freighter tried to run, or fight, and more in case someone else came in to try and defend it. A squadron out of the cruiser was doing anti-submarine warfare with an admirable degree of paranoia.

"Paymon-flagged freighter, you still need to change course," the dispatcher stated before going to the two other languages.

"They do know they're not going to make it to port, right?" VioletBlood asked over the Flight channel.

"Patience," I cautioned her. I then pushed to her the coordinates of some small ships that had been on station near the port which had moved out. The Crocelli coast guard and revenue ships were a mix of BlackSkyvian and Alecton surplus and were thus a bit smaller than the Mulberries.

Still, it was enough to show the freighter that they had no chance of sneaking in. Now, it was a question of when the freighter's captain and her crew would notice.

It was doubtful that they noticed the pair of Venture scout airships and the single Kolibri shadowing the freighter. The Kolibri patrol airship was configured with a pair of Spatha VTOLs. The Kolibri would provide a backup group of Legionaries to land on the freighter.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze this is your last warning, change your heading and maintain speed," the dispatcher said with only a tiny bit of irritation. After she repeated herself in the other languages, there was a pause.

I noticed the freighter was still trying to make for the port.

"Primus, ready fire solution." An exasperated voice cut into the Flight command channel.

"Target, Tribune? Quirinus asked.

"Single Lance Strike over the bow. I want their attention, but I don't want them sunk, yet."

"Confirm." Quirinus replied. "Tauria, you can have the honor."

"Yes, Ma'am," I automatically replied. I could see the wisdom in having me take the shot, as opposed to someone like VioletBlood.

I went to my Flight channel. "Okay girls, I've got orders to make a statement. Check your fire, this is a solo warning."

I made sure to get acknowledgment from all the members of my Flight. And then had them follow me as I changed heading to cross the target.

On my display, I mapped out the heading of the Freighter. As my Lance batteries charged, I double-checked the lead. My goal was to get close enough to make a statement, but not so close that I damaged the ship's bow.

"Commencing Strike," I transmitted as I adjusted my aim and checked the location. The composite data from my Gorgon Rig and the various other scrying systems in this task force made the freighter rather clear.

Lances charged, my gauntlets locked, and I fired.

An antic beam shot out and raced down towards the freighter. However it fell short and the massive evocative energy hit the water and blew up in a massive burst of water. It was like a giant depth charge went off just ahead and to the starboard of the freighter. A wave of water went over the ship's bow.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze the next shots will sink you. Change course and prepare for boarding," the dispatcher stated.

I kept in a smile. At about five hundred feet in length the Sunset Breeze was on the larger end of a midsize freighter. Officially, it was set up as a dry bulk carrier and would normally carry grain. However, it had some conversions and several of its aft holds could be converted to containerized cargo. It was a less efficient use of tonnage than a dedicated container ship, but it gave some advantage in being able to supply some smaller Minor House Ports.

This was an overwhelming amount of firepower for a single commercial ship.

Which was the point.

Slowly, very slowly the Sunset Breeze changed its heading and started moving away from the coastline.

A few more minutes passed and the Paymon freighter reached the instructed heading and held to it.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze prepare to accept an inspection teams. Continue course and speed," the dispatcher said.

I sipped some water as the Spatha Light VTOLs took to the air and started to approach. It wondered if there would be canine units on the inspection teams. Or maybe there would be a clairvoyant with short range remote viewing or maybe a spirit caller. There were a lot of places to hide items on a ship the size of the Sunset Breeze.

"DiamondDust, I want your Flight to do a flyby before the inspectors land," Quirinus ordered.

"Ma'am?" I said in a respectfully questioning tone.

My squadron commander laughed. "Tauria, the inspection teams have Sarpedona running escort. I want you to rattle their bridge windows."

"Understood," I said and then went to my Flight channel and passed the orders down as I outlined a flight path.

I cynically wondered if this was a way to test if the Sunset Breeze had air defenses. A pass by my Flight would also get some up-close telemetry and we were faster than the escort RP force.

VioletBlood was eager while Visha and GreyDawn were more reserved. The latter seemed downright suspicious of this whole mission. I could not blame her, a healthy sense of cynicism was a vital survival trait in the Legions.

We accelerated and dropped altitude. The freighter started to get closer and my breathing became regular. The scrying telemetry from our Gorgon Rigs came into even greater resolution. There were a couple crew out on the wings port and starboard of the bridge. They did not seem to be carrying any weapons and were merely standing watch. Which admittedly meant they had to rely on their night vision.

I had our speed top out and we were over mach one. Which would help give an impressive display as we flew over.

"I told you she's still a ballerina at heart," VioletBlood mock whispered to Visha, while pointedly transmitting over the Flight channel.

I pushed down the irritation. "If you have time to joke, you have time to mind your sectors. The brass horns and the spooks have a reason to think this freighter is worth the effort. If you eat a missile because you're distracted, I will be very cross."

"Yes, Ma'am," VioletBlood stated.

We blew over the freighter not much above its antennae and funnels. And true to my Prefect Centurion's wishes our sonic booms made an impression. I was not sure if the glass in the bridge's windows actually rattled but our passing was obvious.

It was all rather heavy-handed. Minor House Paymon was on very good terms with House Alecto. Hence they were the velvet glove while we were displaying the mailed fist. My tension grew as I did not see any weapons installations or threats. I expected them to make a fight of this.

After buzzing over the freighter I had us take to a higher altitude. Quirinus had my flight doing an overwatch of the freighter while the other two Flights in our squadron were further out watching for other threats.

The Spatha and their Sarpedona escorts came closer.

"Polyxo Flight this is Spatha Flight 6," a VTOL Pilot drawled.

"Greetings Spatha Flight, this is Diamond Flight," I transmitted.

"Really? Good to finally meet you," another voice cut in, this from the commander of the Ritual Plate escorts. "Word is you've done some solid ground support for some multi-role jockeys."

"We may have to do more work, but at least we get paid the same," I joked.

The Pilots chuckled. "Well said, Diamond." the VTOL pilot noted. "I'm looking over the scrying intake, including that latest flyby. You really believe this thing's just a defenseless freighter?"

I studied the composite intelligence from various sources and played back over time. "My gut says no. But I can't see any data backing up them being armed."

"A Paymon freighter tends to run with escort, at least near House Trosier," the VTOL pilot noted.

"We are a bit far from Trosic waters," the commander of the two Sarpedona Flights sighed. "Given what it took them to change course, I don't think these are simple merchant sailors who got a bit of comms trouble."

"I'll still drop off my girls then," the VTOL pilot noted as the formation continued its intercept path with the freighter.

"We'll be doing overwatch."

"That's great, the inspection team will be thrilled to hear that if things go bad the freighter can be sunk around them," the VTOL pilot chuckled.

"You'll only need my girls if your Sarpedona jockeys can't quite cut it," I said with mock levity.

"How generous," the VTOL Pilot noted. "You two can work out your tail-measuring contest. I've got some Legionaries to land."

The Sarpedona escorts spread out into formation that covered the length of the freighter while keeping them from moving into a full-blown hover. Speed was energy and was useful for defense and mobility.

However, the light VTOLs had to reduce their speed to match the freighter. There was a fairly flat spot aft of the bow-mounted island that held the bridge and much of the crew quarters. The Spatha crossed the freighter on a perpendicular angle and without landing slowed and dropped to a quick low hover.

They stopped long enough to drop off two inspection teams plus a quartet of large canines. Ondani shepherds were energetic, large grey and black working and scent dogs that had some Spitz in their lineage but were a bit shaggier and heavily built.

They were amiable creatures. Though I was fond of dogs in general. I put some more of my attention to keeping an eye on the inspection teams. They immediately split up with one going forward and up to the bridge and another aft and down to the engine room.

They soon got out of sight. Fortunately, I was able to ask the escort RP Flights and get patched into their communications channel. For its size, the Sunset Breeze had a small crew.

Though some of the anxiety was that the freighter might have a surplus of passengers.

Once the ship was secure and the freighter's crew was accounted for the centurion on the scene called in the second set of Spatha Lights and reinforcements were called in.

"If they were going to fight they would have already done it," VioletBlood noted. "Tried to shoot down the VTOLs before they could land troops."

"Maybe they think we won't be able to find whatever contraband the spooks think is on it," GreyDawn said.

"Maybe they're just innocent merchant sailors?" Visha said.

"It's always a possibility. This could all be some misunderstanding." I chuckled. I checked the channel the inspection teams were using and my mirth waned.

"Primus?" Visha asked, noticing my silence on the Flight channel.

"The freighter's full of anti-aircraft weapons. It wasn't even hidden all that well. Mostly Trosic kit. They haven't found any Ritual Plate so far, but so far there's enough missiles and parts to provide air defense for a brigade or a Legion."

GreyDawn gave a low whistle.

"That's a considerable investment on House Trosier," Visha noted.

"The Diluvians have fired a lot of Toulon missiles at us. No wonder they need more," VioletBlood stated. "I wonder what'll happen to all this hardware?" she mused.

"We'll likely have House Alecto confiscate them and sell them to House Crocelli."

GreyDawn chuckled. "Crocelli is hungry for arms and Alecto can offer them a great deal."

"While giving us a cut," VioletBlood murmured.

"Do we get prize money for seized goods?" Visha asked.

"It's complicated," I said. The tradition was more among the Household Fleet, but we had played a role. "We could qualify for shares of the sale price, but I wouldn't make any big purchases."

"You're saying you won't get a big slice for being the ones who got the freighter to change course?" VioletBlood asked.

"I'm merely a Ritual Plate pilot following orders. It was House Alecto with that mighty cruiser who provided the big guns," I stated. "Clearly they deserve the lion's share."

As my Flight gave a little chuckle. I checked with Quirinus. We were to keep providing support for the Sarpedona Ritual Plate escorting the inspection teams.

I felt my tension ease a bit. I worried that someone might have the ship rigged to blow up. Also my concerns that we might have run into withering anti-air fire was true... in a way.

Despite all that, the crew seemed to be docile enough. Which was understandable. House Alecto was close with their smaller neighbor House Paymon. It would require an inquest to determine what laws had been broken and the culpability of the crew.

And there was always a chance that House Alecto could repatriate them to House Paymon. Especially if the mercantile Great House wanted to make a deal with the Minor House. Alecto was very interested in keeping Paymon in their sphere of influence.

Suddenly, dozens of missiles launched several miles to the north out of an anonymous part of the sea. They skimmed over the waves and rapidly accelerated. Alarms began to sound. Markers came up onto my display and Flight Ops started giving out alerts.

VTOLs and Ritual Plate were already being routed to the launch site but the missiles were already in the air. Still, they might be able to drop charges on the enemy submarine.

"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. Set condition Zeta through the ship. Incoming, incoming. All pilots be advised, anti-missile systems are Weapons Free," came the overriding voice of the task force's commander before the comms channels devolved down into control by individual Flight Ops directors.

The Alecton Howe class missile cruiser and our Mulberry Fast Attack Craft were under attack. And per the alert's words, the counter-missile fire from the naval assets was going to prioritize saving their ships. Woe to any RP Pilot who got between launching an incoming missile and a weapon system trying to intercept it. The counter-missiles would try to avoid friendly fire and our comms and IFF was rather solid, but their concern was protecting the more expensive, and more populous, ship.

It seemed the Trosic Armada had at least one submarine, more likely two, shadowing the freighter and it objected to our actions.

"We have incoming enemy Ritual Plate," one of our Pilots who had been on anti-submarine patrol stated her voice calm and crisp. "Multiple squadrons of Baptiste strike RP escorted by Rochefort air superiority."

I took a moment to study the map display before we got our orders. The Trosic missiles were the first wave. The Ritual Plate was the follow-up wave. And about half of them were vectoring toward the Sunset Breeze.

I exhaled and put on a grin. "Squadron command, this is Diamond Flight, request permission to intercept."


End Chapter 14


The beach episode, and really the pilots have earned a bit of a break.

Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

Special thanks to ScarletFox for the wonderful omake series that has some great character growth and covers much of this same R&R and beach relaxation.

I hope to have the next chapter of the mainline Return Story (ch5 of Book 6 Bonding Allure) out soon, I'm editing that as we speak.

There's also some wonderful fanart waiting in the wings.
 
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Image: Tauria Suiting up
From ScittyKitty we've got some sketches of Tauria doing part of her getting dressed in her Polyxo Advanced Multi Role suit.





And here's her working with the head of her Ritualista maintenance crew, Optio Suzette Gibbs.


And as a bit of a bonus this link goes to a pic by SaturnXart of Duchess SivlerFlight. And as a duchess complete with vast tracts of land.


There's a few more pieces together, including a headshot of a.... happy Tauria some of you might have seen
 
Dramatis Personae
Better late than never. It's still incomplete but here's some of the top characters so far. This is still an in progress and I do plan to add more.



Main Cast:

Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust


In a previous life she was Tanya von Degurechaff. Now reborn as an orphaned demoness, she once again she finds herself as an aerial combatant mage for an imperialist power. As some consolation, Being X is no longer interfering with her life. This means she is free to define her own life and to pursue her own goals. Unfortunately... she's still Tanya.

Using her extensive experience, drive, and skills, Tauria tries to make the most of her life. She enlists in the House BlackSky's Imperial Legions as a Ritual Plate Pilot, using her magic to control and guide air spirits that drive an intricate suit of flight armor. Tauria is cynical and is looking for a comfortable position, one that mitigates the bloodshed caused by the "crazy demons" all around her. However, she's not quite aware that her emotional control and opacity is not as good as she thinks it is.

Her plan to enlist as young as possible, would mean several years of her 20 year term would be in a non-combat cadet posting hit a snag when she is pulled into having to save several people's lives and fight an enemy RP squadron, all with only a sword and some pyrotechnics.


Volantes Centurion Victorious Shadow aka "Visha"

From the same previous life as Tanya's, Visha found herself also reincarnated as a Diyu Demoness and became a Pilot. She tracked down Tauria and once again became her wingwoman. Bright and optimistic she is a capable Pilot and was able to keep up with Tanya in two lifetimes. As she knows some, but not all, of Tauria's secrets, she is close to her commanding officer.

Volantes Centurion Baroness VioletBlood aka "LoveBlood"

Only a year older than Tauria, VioletBlood would have been one of the most skilled Pilots of her age. However, she was in the same Cadet class as Tauria, which drover her to new heights of skill, and jealousy. That she is cable of keeping up with both Visha and Tauria, despite her age and lack of past life experience is a testament to her ability. Haughty and arrogant, the Baroness is an orphan and tries to uphold BlackSkyvian noble values. She is also under Tauria's command and before Visha showed up was the Countess' wingwoman. She is one for rivalries, as she had one with Tauria before the Countess was ennobled, and one with Visha before she and the latter came to an accord with regard to Tauria.


Other Imperial Legion associates:


Volantes Centurion GreyDawn

A career line Pilot, GreyDawn is dry-witted and the fourth member of Tauria's Flight. An experienced flier, she as assigned to help bring some advice and supervision to a Flight consisting of 2 very young noble Pilots and one relatively young commoner Pilot. Fairly easygoing, she shares a skill for gambling with Visha, and has grown to appreciate her new Flight Leader and her methods. In combat she is typically VioletBlood's wingwoman to help mentor her as well while overall she can use her experience to give Tauria recommendations.

Volantes Prefect Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus

Squadron Commander of 5th Squadron, Beta Wing of the 23rd Imperial Legion Air Group, and Tauria's superior officer. Before her posting to the 23rd, Quirinus was Tauria (and VioletBlood's) Cadet Instructor. An officer with considerable experience and honors, she has taught many young Pilots. When it was decided by the general staff (and with a recommendation from the imperial Family) that Tauria would be given an active duty posting early Quirinus made sure that both young noble pilots would be under her command. She sees great potential in them, especially Tauria, but feels that both Pilots need seasoning to keep them out of trouble, especially VioletBlood. A good cook, Quirinus has focused her life on being an Imperial Legion Ritual Pate Pilot both as a commander and improving the Pilot corps' capabilities.

Ritualista Optio Suzette Gibbs

The chief of Tauria's artificer maintenance team. Every Ritual Plate Pilot has a team of four to five Ritualista who help maintain, repair, refuel, rearm, enchant and genially service the very complicated and expensive components, enhancements that make up a Ritual Plate suit. It is Gibb's job to make sure Tauria's Mark 15, Gamma Block Power system, Polyxo Advanced Multi Role suit is kept in operating condition. Given the combat wear Tauria puts on it, Gibbs' work is cut out for her. Somewhat distant, Gibbs wonders if her superior will manage to survive her operational tempo, but will do her best to keep her suit up to spec.



Relatives:

Sister Clementia Lusria

A nun of the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady, a devotee of a faith that venerates DarkStar (a lost Granddaughter of Imperatrix BlackSky), Clementia is a kind woman who took it upon herself to raise Tauria, especially when no one seemed willing to adopt the orphaned little demon. She formally adopted Tauria as her daughter on Tauria's 12th birthday.

Volantes Tribune (Rorarii) Duchess SilverFlight

A reserve RP Pilot, the Duchess is a patron of the arts and many charities. In particular, she supports many widows and orphans funds and organizations, especially for those of lost Legion and Fleet personnel. She also supports many Ritual Plate endeavors. She has her own mercenary Squadron and helps develop and test several suit components. Another things she does is help find those with the fairly rare talent that allows someone to control a Ritual Plate suit and direct the Zephyr air spirits that act as the propulsion and maneuvering systems. It was she who discovered Tauria, loaned her her first trainer suit, and sponsored Tauria's early enrollment into the cadet program. Like Clementia, she adopted Tauria as a daughter after Tauria saved her life, defeated a Zioxan War Mistress, and made ace, all before her 12th birthday. Actions for which Tauria earned the Preserver Crown in addition to being adopted.



There's many more characters can be added.
But these seem to be the keymost ones and well... ones that I have headshots of.
 
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"Snippet" 4: Lara's Bad Night
Chapter 15 has one major scene written at 6 words.
But, it's the start of a month so have another part of the Battle of Chicago side story.

This one focuses on another succubus queen. Lara Raith the head of the White Court of Vampires and how she's dealing with a very bad night.

+++

I am a vampire queen. I am the power behind the throne of one of the most powerful supernatural nations.

We are masters of subtle manipulation and temptation. We give humans what they want, what they think they want. We are powerbrokers, dealers, and keepers of secrets. We know where the bodies are buried and the little levers to pull.

And I have ambitions.

I had a certainty of how the world worked. I could look down my nose at the poor kine who were ignorant of the supernatural. But the seeds of that hubris lay in how my kind raised our young. Vampires of the White Court tended to be raised as humans, ignorant of their family's true nature, ignorant of the Hunger inside them, ignorant of what will happen to their first loves. It was thought that the shock, the sudden realization would strengthen us. It's one of many views of my father's that I disagree with.

I am a monster but a polite monster. This means knowing the value of my word, of trust, of adhering to deals. And knowing when said value has become a sunk cost.

I overthrew my father, a true monster who ruled through means most unpleasant, even by incubus standards. I am working to advance my people. And have strengthened bonds with powers such as the Winter Fae Court. I am also one of the few to have come out on top after fencing with the wizard Dresden.

Dresden... Dresden is a force of nature. One who is easy, and tempting, to underestimate, but people who do that tend to end up dead or worse. The Wizard Dresden stated a war, then Mab the Queen of Air and Darkness got her claws into Dresden, and then Dresden destroyed the Red Court of Vampires

He Faked his death, came back, and then... then BlackSky got her claws into Dresden.

And Dresden was no longer human, no longer male.

The Wizard of Chicago had become the clumsiest succubus I have ever seen in my long life. Empty Night, if having to seduce a guard, because a supposed succubus Princess could not do the simplest of tasks and break our brother out of prison were the low points of this day, then it would still have ranked as one of the worst.

Father's first... well the ways he got control over me are still the worst days.

But I had to deal with my brother seemingly going mad and trying to assassinate the King of Svartalfheim. At the exact time where it came at the highest diplomatic cost. The Svartalves nearly beat him to death.

Dresden.... BlackStone. At first I was.... unimpressed. Oh yes, aesthetically BlackStone was a pretty enough thing. Exotic and inhuman. But she was still bumbling and clumsy.

What kind of seductress was awkward? How could she ensnare her friends like that? I had shook my head seeing her interacting with those close to her. Though I suppose, they were still supporting Dresden.

And the new "sisters" of Dresden acquired, did little to help raise my estimation. One was an arrogant, and crazed redhead with even less subtlety than Dresden. The other was quiet and sly and arranged deals with the likes of Vadderung.

Then came the rumors. About House BlackSky, About BlackSky herself, about their world. It all grew as these succubae, these Diyu demons, came into the open and started negotiating their way into the Unseelie Accords.

Their... diplomats were professional and skilled enough, but I got the sense of folks pretending to be Great Game-era imperialists. I remembered when the Winter and Summer Fae courts would dress up as World War 2 Soldiers and have dances and balls in spiffy uniforms they did not understand.

People playing at war. That is not to say that the Fae are not powerful warriors. They are among the strongest factions of the Unseelie Accords. And if rumors are true, then Winter has the largest standing army.

However, it is one thing to be a powerful supernatural force, it is another to have a military capable of something like Operation Overlord or Barbarossa.

There is a reason the White Court worked to influence and subvert humanity, instead of trying to directly confront the bucks and does.

Thus seeing these Great House demons in their gowns and brocaded, double-breasted uniforms strut about, as if they were 19th century European imperials plotting to divide up Western Asia, gave me... questions.

And since I had lived through that period of history, I was less than impressed. Also one House, Great or no, negotiating entry? Why not the whole of the Diyu powers? It was not like House Raith was an Accorded nation on its own power.

They had population and capable artificers, but the Fae had both of those, and the Svartalves were masters of the latter. And the demons were coming to us.

And also well... a petty part of me thought it was a poor sign that they thought Harry Dresden was worthy of being part of their imperial family of being a princess of all things.

Still, despite her flaws, Dresden had managed to concoct a rescue scheme that... amazingly worked. Of course it required I had to trust a clumsy demon with some ill-conceived hope of saving and protecting our brother.

And then the night got even worse. I would learn how bad things would get. But at that time I experienced magic and monsters at a level that made me feel like I was freshly exposed to the horror and powerlessness that came with seeing the supernatural world.

First, a massive hex destroyed all power, communications, and vehicles in the city, stranding us on the side of the road. At the moment all my power was reduced to one Vampire Queen, one incubus brother being killed by his own Hunger, and one redheaded Valkyrie mercenary.

Not nothing, but stranded in the middle of a city in a massive blackout?

And then things got worse.

+++


We split our time carrying Thomas. Freydis did not complain. The Valkyrie did not seem outwardly worried, but she was on alert.

We were hardly unique. There were plenty of other people with wounded compatriots. Some stayed by their cars others were trying to move them, especially the walking wounded. There had been a lot of car accidents when everything had gone wrong.

Right now the kine were lost and confused without their communications and lights. The fear would come later. As would the violence.

Not helping was when the hundreds of flashes emerged as the sky opened up and.... ships poured through. My stomach chilled when I remembered the words of another combative little redhead.

It seemed like Dresden's older sister was not so baselessly arrogant. Or at least that was the hopeful interpretation.

Worse would be if the grand air fleet that appeared over the city after a massive hex and then swam off into the darkness was not House BlackSky's. Yes, the hopeful view was that the ancient demonic empress had just summoned an invasion fleet.

Otherwise, it meant someone else was trying to invade Chicago this night.

It turns out it was BlackSky's fleet and another power was trying to invade.

Lovely.

This had really been a bad day. And it was going to get worse.

I'm not sure of our destination. We were heading roughly east. That was the direction of the nearest White Court cache. There would be personnel, supplies, and more at that location.

It was also the direction of the marina where the Clumsy Succubus wanted me to go to. Though if the hex was caused by the most likely faction to betray all of us, then getting on the water would be near suicide.

Again... if the hex was House BlackSky's doing... well it showed how bad things were that I hoped that air fleet was in reaction to the hex and... not something worse.

Those ships, airships of all things, disgorging whatever troops they carried and striking against the Accorded Nations would be bad. And bad for the people of this city. Right now, the city's defenses were limited.

I wondered what was happening at Marcone's castle. How were all the representatives of the Accorded Nations reacting to this? Did they have time to react?

I took comfort in that if this were some sort of demonic coup that I would not be left out in the middle of nowhere. No, some hit team would be coming for me.

And that's when I heard the soft rustle of membranous wings cutting through air.

Thomas was put to the ground as quickly and gently as possible as I went nearly back to back with Freydis. She had pulled out a compact little rifle that had been slung under her light jacket.

At least Justine was out of this. I had put my people to protect her, and Dresden probably did as well, but...

Hooves and boots hit pavement. Most were the muted sounds of graceful predators. There was the slight rattle of gear. I looked around and saw helmeted, armored figures landing, their hands on rifles with slings that linked to their front harnesses.

Horns poked out of matte helmets. Tails and wings swished behind them. Even in the less than figure-flattering grey and darker grey armor, they were all alluring and lovely women.

Except... one of them didn't wear quite the same armor. Hers was a glossy blue and a long coat trailed behind her. She also bore no helm and... most reassuring she landed and had to take a jerky half step forward to avoid face-planting.

"Dresden what the hell is going on?" I snarled as she wobbled around on those ridiculous hooves.

"It's not my fault!" BlackStone whined.

I grossed my arms. "Explain. Quickly."

"Perhaps we should first look at your wounded sibling." A pale-green eyed woman landed with utter grace and silence behind Dresden. She had fine pink hair that looked oddly dull in the dark night and wore a dark green set of armor. She had a rather large handgun holstered that looked more plain than the slightly more baroque and brass-fitted weapons the others carried. "And stop saying things that make you look worse." She slapped Dresden on the back of the head.

Ah, BloodMist, the demonic.... mother to BlackStone.

"An explanation would help," I stated as one of the demonic soldiers slung her rifle and approached, gloved hands raised.

She had primly-cut, fine lavender hair, curled horns that might have been a bit bigger than her comrades', and an inquisitive face. The gear packs around her hips and lower back were also a bit larger than on her compatriots. I supposed people with wings couldn't wear backpacks. "I am medic," she said in oddly accented English.

I nodded to Freydis to let her approach.

Kneeling down, the lithe succubus hissed as she murmured and held a hand over his wounds. "His... Hunger? Is killing?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Yes, we know."

The medic nodded and took out a little pouch and a syringe. There was a softly shimmering red liquid to it. She quickly injected it. "Painkiller and energy. Feed."

"That's not going to save him."

"Buy time. Maybe." She frowned and busied herself. "Princess BlackStone, consent did he?"

I gave a sharp exhale. "Dresden. Don't make me ask you thrice."

Dresden was working for me; Mab had transferred the favors she owed me to her Knight. Perhaps spending one on getting my brother out of Marcone's custodianship in his castle was not the wisest way to spend it, given the Clumsy Succubus had her own plans, but my brother was out. The question was if he would stay my brother.

The Winter succubus shivered. "I didn't mean... er.... Look. The Fomor are attacking, King Corb went into the castle and broke guest-right. He killed a bunch of Marcone's people. His own goons got their necks snapped. He also brought his Mistress: Ethniu, the Last Titan. She was the one who hexed the whole city with a magical superweapon in her eye socket before stomping off."

After taking a moment to process her rambling, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Wonderful.

I noticed the four soldier-demons other than the medic had shifted and their guns were now facing out as they edged forward and took defensive positions.

"I saw the fleet," I stated.

"Marcone and Mab were gathering all the support they could. Your man, Riley sent a runner and is activating all of your forces. He can't commit them to battle without your countersign but he can get them ready and move them."

I nodded. Good help was worth their weight in gold. "Where is he? At the castle or making for one of our facilities in the city?"

"Last I saw he was getting on a demon dropship thingy," BlackStone said, earning another smack from her mother.

"Riley asked if we could arrange for transport to your Chateaux," BloodMist explained.

"Ah, I thank you for your assistance," I glanced up into the sky. I could see a few dark shapes buzzing about and there was a throbbing sound.

"So, that fleet was your contribution to the Winter Queen and Marcone?" I asked while the medic pulled out a few tins of salves and other injections. There was even a bracelet made of stones she put around his wrist.

She worked with a quiet professionalism and a degree of worry. Which I supposed was fitting. From what I knew of the sprawling imperial family, while Dresden might be the youngest daughter of the youngest daughter, letting a Princess' brother die would... not be great for the medics' future career.

"The fleet is mostly there to transport and protect Corpus Incursio Reliance," BloodMist said.

"Six Legions," Dresden added.

"Fortuitous for you to have such a force already aboard troopships and to have them within range," I dryly noted.

BloodMist snorted. "Did you honestly expect the Fomor to deal in good faith? We arranged insurance."

"Better to have it and not need it," I tried to keep my tone light. This... the demons had expected the Fomor to betray them, and their "insurance" was reading half a dozen Legions, plus whatever else those airships carried.

"Were you ever in scouting, Lady Raith? Pardon me for not knowing if that was a thing on this world when you were a child," the Empress's youngest daughter stated.

"And on the off chance Corb aurally agreed to a full ceasefire, or didn't even declare war your fleet could have stayed hidden where it was," I surmised to the demon giving a slight head nod. "And what's this about consent? Was this your plan all along Dresden? Turn my brother, make him a succubus like you. Did you think that would keep the Accorded Nations from tracking him?"

I kept most of the venom out of my voice. Abstractly, it had a certain logic. And it was a suspicion I had ever since we found out what the Svartalves had done to Thomas. The change apparently healed as a side effect of rebuilding someone's body into a demon succubus. And as Dresden, with shocking unsubtly for her, showed she could use thaumaturgy to track us down with trivial ease.

But if Thomas were.... a female demon. Then that would change her.

"Not without his consent," BloodMist stated, her tone icy.

"He's dying."

"Not without his consent," she repeated a flash to her eyes. "If you knew anything of us you'd know how much of a violation that would be."

Dresden gave an exhale and her tail drooped.

"If he would rather die an incubus than live as one of us then we will honor that."

"I've... I've got a way to get us more time," BlackStone said. "We might not need to turn him."

BloodMist glared at the both of us. I did not disagree with her. Well, the whole focus on consent was not exactly how the White Court worked, but in this specific case I was torn. If Thomas were turned into one of them, in many ways he... she would be even more distant. But if that were the only option? But... what did he want?

"Your grace, Lady, Princess, I could probably awaken him. The right stimulant would do it. It would be painful but his constitution..." The lithe demon medic idly adjusted her tools. "I do not recommend doing it more than once. But... he'd probably be able to answer you."

Any immediate response was cut off by the sound of throbbing... well engines was the best word. There was certainly a downwash as an aircraft swooped down at rapid speed with a bone-jarring deceleration before it came to a hover above the street.

Detritus and litter blew away and we had the full attention of the various humans who were still in shock from the massive blackout.

It was a few yards away and the soldier-succubae moved to protect it and us as the back ramp and side doors opened. Above in the sky figures in heavy-armored.... suits that had slight tracery and more of that wind-whipping throb circled around.

The craft was a dark grey that had hints of red. It reminded me a bit of a helicopter or maybe a vertical takeoff and landing craft. What with the sliding side doors and back ramp. But instead of rotors it had a pair of stubby wings that each ended in a rotating pod that sucked air through and did other complicated manipulations.

Everything thrummed with arcane energy.

"Riley took one of those?" I inquired as a succubus in something that looked a lot like a flight suit jumped off the back ramp. She was carrying a stretcher and went right up to my brother and started helping the medic move him over and strap him down.

Freydis cocked her head and gestured. I followed where she was pointing with her gun. The humans had been shocked by the arrival of the demonic soldiers and the dropship or whatever it was had not helped but they were getting more... interested.

Which was fair, it was dark out and I'm sure many were ignoring the extra demonic bits and instead saw soldiers and a rescue crew with a working aircraft. Something that they had not seen since that Titan's hex.

Damn. Between the Fomor's incipient attack and BlackSkyvians and all the other Accorded Nations, including my own, counter attacking. All in the middle of a major city.

The fallout from this...

I shook my head. The aircraft was small, it looked like it would just barely fit the ten of us, not counting the succubus who was now helping the medic lift Thomas up. "I accept your offer of transport."

BloodMist blinked as we all made our way to the howling craft. The soldiers were still guarding our perimeter while the airborne suits did their thing. "Lady Raith, the Spatha is just going to get us up to the Patrol Carrier, we'll be taking that to my daughter's destination."


+++


The flight up was as smooth as could be expected. Given that the pilot, who once we were strapped in and the doors were halfway closed, decided to act as if the Fomor had access to anti-air missiles.

Though given how secretive those foggy monsters were, and how advanced their bio-sculpting was, maybe they had some sort of flying mollusk that exploded on impact. I had no room to begrudge the demons their paranoia.

I had put the White Court on high alert and brought in more of my sisters, and other members of the Blood, and had my household guard equipped and ready with Riley the head of my mortal forces having readied equipment and fallback plans.

I thought I was prepared for treachery. It turns out Dresden, the most awkward succubus princess, had me beat. In addition to doing work for the Queen of Winter and thus working for me, the Wizardess of Chicago had been preparing for a demonic invasion.

I was in an ill-fitting pull-down seat near the front which gave me a view of my brother's stretcher that had been strapped down in the center-line of the small cabin.

The lights were a dim red color. I suspected it was to protect night vision, though given how well they could see in the dark... maybe it was to make the Spatha Light VTOL give off less light. The conditions were cramped in with the ten of us in back.

To my left, the Load Mistress, which was what the cargo handler was called, had moved up near the cockpit and sat on a jump seat to one side behind the pilot. She spoke in a clipped professional voice.

My Latin was not as good as my Etruscan, but it was handy to be able to speak the language of the White Council of Wizards. The demons spoke a different dialect and had a more flowing cadence but it was understandable, save for the occasional technical term, and loanword from some other language.

I took some amusement that the cocksure attitude and careful speaking patterns of pilots seemed universal

The pilot's controls and instruments were an interesting mix of switches, leather-wrapped yokes, brass gauges, orange glowing nixie tubes, and fully holographic displays in the center of the gauge cluster that also overlaid much of the canopy.

I had seen such magic in the Svartalven embassy, and the aides to BlackSky were using similar displays. Though it was one thing to have a capability on a personal device, that a caster could presumably refresh, it was another to have something rugged enough to serve as flight displays for a combat aircraft.

My atavistic tendencies grew with naked want at the temptation before me. Not of the succubae, but this whole aircraft system. Well, the succubae too. The soldiers in the back compartment had a variety of skin, hair, and eye colors and ranged from whipcord lithe to broadly strong, to compact and aggressive. They had a constrained anger as if they were offended by the presumption of the Fomor to dare attack a city under the aegis of one of their Princesses.

They had a sharp allure to them and were more reserved than Dresden. At least the peace talks, Empty Night what a farce those ended up being, helped it exposed me to even more succubae. It was one thing to see Dresden and her crazy sister, it was another to see their empress and daughters.

I gave a slight nod to BloodMist. Yes, their magic... their technology was alluring, but so were the succubae themselves. I cursed a bit for Etri getting closer with House BlackSky. His people's interests and desires would find these demons very appealing.

The aircraft started to buffet a bit as the turbulence increased. I turned back to the front canopy and saw a dark shape suddenly appear in the leaden night sky ahead of it.

It was a rigid-hulled airship. It had a single set of horizontal tail fins, but twinned ventral and dorsal vertical fins. Ahead of the fins were propulsion pods that extended a bit beyond the massive craft's envelope.

We were now on a direct path for the rear of the airship. It had a long gondola that ran the length of the frame. At the very end, forward and between those downward-pointing tailfins was a large door that retracted up into the airship.

Based on the display, the aircraft we were on was following a track to intercept with the airship. As we approached, there was a thrum of magical power and the turbulence faded. Maybe the spirits that were pushing the Spatha got into some kind of harmony with those pushing the airship.

Either way, we slipped into the aft bay door. I might have clenched my hands as our aircraft slipped between the giant airship tailfins. It looked like I could reach out and touch the material.

And then the Spatha's propulsion pods rotated forward and acted as reversers cutting out thrust. It turned out to be less of a tight fit than I feared. I mean... there were whole meters of clearance on either side left to right.

Still... the aircraft's landing gears hit the decking and I saw a bunch of air crew scurrying around attaching cables and mounting clips to secure the aircraft as the door behind us rolled back down. The pilot powered down the Spatha, and even I could feel the spirits in the aircraft being lulled back to sleep.

She gave some banter in Latin thanking us for flying Home Fleet Lines and reminded us to check out the duty free shop in the terminal.

Shaking my head, I stood up and watched as the Spatha's side and rear doors opened. the airship moved, reminding me a bit of being on the ocean but with smoother longer frequency motions

First up were a pair of medics. They weren't wearing the battle rattle of our lavender-haired friend, instead they had some type of body-hugging jumpsuit that had reinforcements on the knees and elbows and a few cuffs and pockets and loops for holding tools and the like.

I nodded as they checked over Thomas and helped move his stretcher off the dropship.

I followed and despite it all, suppressed a little smile. Naturally, BlackStone was a bit clumsy as she tried to walk given the airship's gentle roll. But more than any other time she was trying to act graceful. I noticed BloodMist's amusement. Ah, Dresden was trying to impress her mother

"Welcome to the Kolibri class Patrol Carrier HFV Kestrel, Lady Raith," BloodMist said as the half-squad of soldiers walked past us.

"Let me guess, you're going to take him to sick bay?" I asked, taking in the smell of machine oil and... incense. There was also grease and various other chemicals. Though, the whole bay was brightly lit and had white and grey paint as well as the expected black and yellow hazard stripes. That bit of familiarity struck out to me

BloodMist nodded as the medics loaded Thomas' stretcher into a type of open freight elevator that lifted up into the deck above us. Honestly, I was reluctant to let him out of my sight, the Daughter of BlackSky had plans.

And I doubted she would betray me, not over this.

There were various docking cleats that could be folded up from the deck, which bore a few scratches and a lot of tire scuffs. Off to the sides were various carts that did all sorts of presumably maintenance tasks. A couple had been wheeled over to the drop ship and were doing some sort of servicing. There were equipment lockers and tool chests and other parts of kit. Everything was locked down and secured.

Which was sensible on an airship. Still it was... interesting to see the shipboard crew doing their jobs. It was almost easy to forget that they were all perky little demons.

BloodMist shook her head. "Yes, but the facilities are compact and limited; this ship only has a complement of 150 or so. Normally weight is the issue for airships and we can go with more space, but even that's limited on these little craft," she explained as she led us away from the Spatha, which had actually landed a good twenty meters inside the airship.

Which left a good amount of space behind it for something else to land using that rear door.

I looked around. We were going past a bit of a bulkhead wall that seemed to strengthen this part of the gondola and maybe give some fireproofing between the compartments.

This whole lower deck was a good thirteen meters by not quite a hundred meters. And then I saw what was in the forward compartment.

The incense scent was stronger. There was still the smell of machine oil, lubricants and something akin to the sharp, almost sulfurous, tang of hot metal.

Immediately forward of the bulkhead were a set of benches, equipment tie downs, lockers and weapon racks that seemed to be a staging area for an infantry squad or so.

But beyond that....

There were several sturdy... not quite chairs that had been bolted to the deck. Consisting of heavy adjustable armatures, runes were inscribed on each one. Several very rugged looking concentric magic circles surrounded each seat. Around those was a grouping of tool chests, crates, lockers, and racks of parts and plating.

I was closer and saw that while there were a lot of mundane metal-working tools, the swarming maintenance staff had a variety of what could only be called implements.

Various crystals, wands, anathema blades, and other blatantly magical tools were used alongside, often in conjunction with grinders and engravers.

What they were working on.... well many of the "chairs" were empty. And some had staff busying and organizing; others were empty and did not even have staff. Maybe they were somewhere off getting food.

But the heavy duty seats that were occupied held something like a suit of armor. Breathtakingly complicated sections of plate armor were fastened together. Each plate consisted of several layers, and the inner ones seemed to be covered in engravings.

Though even the outer layers had some engravings and many glowed with light. Most of the suits were occupied, with succubae shorn of their metal masks and helmets chatting with their staff. A few were grabbing a quick snack and hydrating.

I knew the language, but their terminology was extremely specialized. It was like listening to some combination of pilot and wizard chatting with some of Etri's crafters.

It was like looking at a race team and their pit crew. Or.... as I looked around, like a fighter pilot and her maintenance team.

These were the suits that had been flying over-watch when BlackStone had... rescued us, and closer-up I could see variations.

Not the minor details of engraving or filigree or even the painted on accents. But some suits were all stark lines and swept features and even when tied down looked to be cutting through the air. While others were built more pugnacious and aggressive. Something with the air of a brawler.

Marching forward down the long gondola, these stations were two to a row. By my count there were twenty of these stations. Though two seemed to be unused and were probably spares.

BloodMist had described this craft as a Patrol Carrier. I suppose this was the demons' equivalent of combat aircraft. The room thrummed with martial power. And I could feel the air buzzing. It was like the propulsion pods of that dropship but even more focused.

Magic suits with enchantments, pilots who were Practitioners of some kind, and bonded spirits for speed and propulsion. There were also a handful of larger heavy duty containers that from their bulk had to be ordnance magazines. They probably held weapons, fuel, and other high density things that those suits used. I wondered if they had armored trapdoors so in the event of a fire they could simply be jettisoned.

Glancing around the sprayers, hoses, water pipes, lockers of masks and hoods, and other bits of firefighting equipment were obvious. Intentionally so, complete with more painted stripes in hazard colors.

Freydis' covetous look was even more blatant. Especially whenever we passed a seat that was occupied. Though by the numbers half were empty. Presumably, they were outside flying.

That was confirmed when a couple flew in via person-sized doors, port and starboard that were about halfway down the compartment. They were angled to face aft ward on an oblique. Meanwhile at the far forward end of the compartment was some sort of chamber that would launch these armored demon flight suits off the airship and into the sky.

"They're called Ritual Plate," BloodMist stated.

"Oh?" I studied the suits. "Sort of a term of art?" Each suit had to have dozens of different spells and enchantments in all sorts of systems. Off the top of my head, I could guess there were collections of spells for propulsion, weapons, defenses, sensors, communications. Empty Night, there was probably a whole set of life support to give pressure and oxygen, depending on how high and fast these things went.

And all of those required maintenance or at least empowering. One thing I learned about magic was that you did not get results for free, and it required a lot of work. Even the Fae had limitations and costs for their creations.

And the craft of these demons looked well... there was an aesthetic elegance that came from the necessity of weight savings and being well-fitted to the succubus form, not to mention artisan flourishes. But these suits had a uniformity in parts and design that implied mass production and a ruggedness that indicated they were expected to get used in combat and have parts replaced.

It was not the solid ruggedness of an armored vehicle, more of a fighter jet, or for some of the more brawler-like suits an attack helicopter.

I pushed back a heady mix of anxiety and wonder. I suppose this was what mortals felt when they first saw the supernatural.

BloodMist gave me a sly smile. "Less than 'tank' being used for a class of armored fighting vehicle."

I nodded. "And their roles? I note several different types."

"I suppose you could guess the roles they can fit and those they cannot," BloodMist said as we waited at the bottom of a steep set of stairs made out of skeletal spars and perforated plate. Of course they would save weight wherever they could.

I snorted. "They would make poor troop, vehicle, or cargo transports. Unless you had a very small, very select bit of cargo, or..." I pondered. "One delivered some sort of teleport beacon, or a means to cut a Way into the Nevernever."

BlackStone looked a bit nervous while BloodMist gave me a thin smile. "Perhaps. Still you can guess the main roles are such things as air superiority, interceptor, strike, ground support, all with recon sub-variants. Not to mention dedicated sensor and scrying suits."

Nodding, I continued to study the suits. This many suits, in a mere patrol carrier... The things I could do with just a dozen of them. "This should give an advantage against the Fomor," I allowed. "They are probably lacking in air power."

"A dangerous assumption to make," BloodMist said as she went up the stairs.

"Still having nearly twenty of these suits will be useful, plus any other patrol carriers, and... larger craft," I allowed, following up behind her.

BlackStone made a choking noise while her mother chuckled.

We were up in a corridor that went aft to forward. It seemed a bit narrow but could at least fit two people passing each other if just. And there were more succubae in their little ship-suits, and a handful more in Legionary Armor.

"Yes, the Kolibri in Patrol Carrier configuration can carry 2 light Squadrons. That allows for some power projection. But well..."

"We brought the Valhalla," BlackStone said as we made our way forward.

BloodMist flashed a toothy smile as we passed a couple open doors that went into bunk rooms. They had a lot of beds stacked in levels four tall, but at least the beds themselves seemed wide, and there was a lot of storage.

"An evocative name," I calmly stated.

"All of the Avalon Class Heavy carriers have names like that." BloodMist shrugged. "The Valhalla has an RP Air Group. That's four Wings. Each Wing has 8 squadrons. That is a full squadron, of 12 pilots."

I did the math, that was nearly four hundred Ritual Plate. Lovely. Their assistance would make a difference. I had my suspicions that the Valhalla was only the start, but Legions with air cover would be a great help. Again, I wondered how much air power the Fomor had. Did they even know about air defense doctrine? How many supernatural powers did?

Though nothing was free. Not with geopolitics. And more and more it was becoming obvious that House BlackSky was not playing at being a great game imperialist power, they really were a nation state.

"And other Kolibri configurations?" I asked, the smell of fresh baked bread and stew tickling at my nose. Looking to the left though a large doorway, I saw a... cozy mess hall. It could seat maybe sixty people at half a dozen long tables. The tables were mostly empty, but the kitchen staff were busy organizing and cooking.

BloodMist gave an indulgent smile while BlackStone's stomach grumbled. "Oh yes, the Kolibri Patrol is a flexible platform. The Spatha and one of the light RP squadrons can be swapped out for various things.

"Such as a century of troops and an artillery system, a troop of scout vehicles, 2 Spatha and twenty troops, a supply of cargo, fuel, and munitions, or, in a more involved changeover such as adding launch tubes, converted into a corvette with 8 aerial Torpedoes."

I nodded along. So even non-carriers have a minimum of nine Ritual Plate. That takes up a fair footprint on a ship this size, that means they're needed as a defensive measure.

So, these airships have an acute vulnerability. Otherwise House BlackSky wouldn't give each ship such a defensive force. Not just in terms of the space on each airship, but in the expense in equipment and manpower. I was not sure how to take advantage of that weakness, but that they had it was reassuring.

"Naturally, the cargo configuration is the most common," BlackSky continued while BlackStone looked into the mess hall.

"How common?" I inquired.

"Well among Kolibri, the cargo version is about a third, but that's not a fair count as many forces, especially corvettes, use larger cargo ships.

"Of course. So, overall?"

"Overall in the Household Fleet, it's about half the hulls are various cargo and supply. Especially if you focus on larger hulls," BloodMist's tone was mild.

I nodded, trying to be calm. That was... a strong logistics capability. Having half of their airships be cargo ships was a very expensive investment, and reduced the number of hulls that could carry weapons or troops.

But that showed that House BlackSky... used these airships. And was serious about having them deployed and supported. "Maybe we should get something to eat? Or at least have some food sent over to poor BlackStone?" I asked while pondering.

Dresden pouted and tried to look mature in front of her mother. It was adorable.

BloodMist quickly relented and led us into the mess hall. "And are you hungry Lady Raith, Miss Gard?"

Freydis gave a slight shrug but her expression was hungry.

"Redheads," BloodMist chuckled.

"She does remind me a bit of a certain DarkStar," I ventured.

BloodMist eyed me and resumed her chuckle. "Perhaps," she allowed. "This one is spirited."

As we went to the head of the non-existent line, I looked over how all the tables and benches were secured to the deck. Even the condiment holders and utensils had compartments and locking trays. The presence of garum surprised me a bit more than it should have.

I also did some rough mental math on just how big an Avalon Heavy Carrier such as the Valhalla somewhere over the city would have to be. It had over twenty times the Ritual Plate as this Patrol Carrier.

Assume the same ratio of support equipment and crew... there's probably some efficiency of scale, but on the other hand a larger carrier may have more ancillary equipment or protection. Like more VTOLS or Torpedoes. Which I'm not sure if that means waterborne weapons or is some generic term for a large air-launched munition or both

So a 20 times heavier airship. But weight scales with the cube so... like over three times longer, wider, and taller.

Which for rough numbers... call this patrol ship 150 meters long meant anywhere from 500 meters to 600 meters, at least half a kilometer.

"Are you eating enough?" BloodMist asked her daughter.

That size was... mind-boggling, but only a rough number, as not all the airships I saw earlier were the roughly cigar shape that this one was. Quite a few seemed to be made out of clusters of two or three airframes.

"Yes, Mother," BlackStone whined to my delight.

Either way, immense ships. And ships that big were targets. Again I went back to what sort of defensive systems they had. With their level of magic some kind of ward seemed possible. But on that scale...

I shook my head and absently picked out some quarter-meter long loaf of wheat bread filled with cheese and sausage and a pickled sauce that had a hint of nutmeg. There was a whole basket of the savory things that seemed to be some kind of portable meal.

BlackStone, at her mother's prompting, took two and put in her pocket a string of dried sausages and a foiled packet of biscuits that smelled of molasses and cinnamon. Seeing Freydis take some of those as well, I made a note to take one of hers.

"Lovely," I complimented the cooks who were more of the perky ship-board succubae. Though, a couple were a bit taller, and even the more lanky ones still had muscles. They also seemed cuter, or at least less lean in the face, than the others. I wondered if that was a side effect of their duties.

I chewed thoughtfully as we got out of the mess hall. The sandwich, more of a wheat baguette with filling, was pretty decadent. The fresh bread, I guess they had a bakery up here, and the preserved meats and sauces and vegetables were a great blend. There was a bit extra to it; all in all not as good as sex, but could be a substitute. Well, for a human, not one of my kind. Still, it was rather filling and gave a bit of extra pep.

"Is all the food this good?" Freydis asked as she bit into one of the biscuits with obvious relish and happy murmur. I had to take one of hers; if a Valkyrie found a baked good that was delicious it was worth a try.

"Or is this a special meal before battle?" she asked.

I nodded as I thought. Freydis came from a warrior culture and one that valued feasting.

If House BlackSky had an airship that large for a carrier then they could make a troopship that large. Which could hold two or three thousand people. A few of those could move a legion of troops. Though if they have heavy equipment, artillery, tanks and mountains of supplies then it would require more ships.

"Feeding is a critical part of our logistics. It would be very bad for a succubus to go hungry," BloodMist smiled at me.

Ah, more reason why logistics was so important. Empty Night, it was challenging enough to feed representatives at the other White Court Houses when they came to the Chateaux for major events.

Feeding thousands of succubae, for an extended combat deployment? I wondered what would happen to Chicago after the battle....

If the Avalon Class was possible, then these demons could move a Legion in a flotilla, fleet, or whatever collection of ships. With... a lot of cargo ships to keep them fed.

Which was in line with the amount of large craft and their escorts I saw. That was an extreme mobility and the capability of deploying troops anywhere in force was powerful. And this demonic nation picked Dresden to make a princess?

I shook my head.

We returned to the long corridor with its brightly painted walls, railings, ductwork and conduits mostly concealed behind panels.

The door across from the mess was closed, but had a simple plate in Latin that translated to something like: Recreation, though with some connotations of brothel.

That was not proof of anything. The name-plate by the galley called it a Ganeum. Which was either a joke or a shift in meanings, as a Ganeum in ancient Rome was their version of a greasy spoon dinner. And they got a reputation for attracting prostitutes.

"We are succubae," BloodMist said, after noticing my pondering.

"Oh, is that what that room is for? How does that work?" I asked, wondering if I had just reveled to her that I knew Latin. On the one hand the words had similar roots to English terms, on the other BloodMist might have just presumed I spoke Latin.

"If you are still hungry, we can arrange something." BloodMist tilted her head. "But we might not have time."

"Time?"

"We're changing course. Come," BloodMist stated.

I hung by the door for a moment. Was it a rota system? Did they have dedicated prostitutes as part of the crew? Humans that were fed on? Surely, that would not be enough to keep them supplied. I had not seen any humans since we boarded. Or was it simply just a recreation center for sexual release?

With a slight bit of reluctance, I followed. This would not be the only mystery to me aboard this ship. For one I did not know what they used to power their propulsion and other systems. There was the slight buzz of some sort of process and there were lots of overlapping bits of excess magic about. I glanced over to Dresden.

But her nervous, awed expression, she was doubtless feeling all sorts of things.

++++


The... briefing room, command and control room, or whatever, was off-putting.

It was less the captain of the ship in her gold and white uniform who watched me with deep purple eyes. With light red skin, she was short and had a controlled, haughty aggressiveness. Her sharp features were lovely and her pale blue hair was braided back and complimented her white horns and tail.

If not for the order of a daughter of her Empress, she would not have let me in here, and maybe not even onboard her ship.

But that was just one discomfort, the room's decor was... upsetting.

Oh, there was nothing garish or macabre. No bodies having from chains, or war trophies or any other signs of indulgent bellicosity.

Now, there were a few items in the room that were shrouded with grey sheets. Though from the outlines they gave I was reminded of things more like spherical astrolabes, sextants, or other bits of baroque finery. The artificer machinery that was unshrouded in the compartment was tantalizing enough. Most of the items were put up against the walls, though there was a large five-sized table in the center of the room.

But the walls....

They were tiled. From the stark, if comfortable utility of the rest of the airship that alone was noteworthy.

The tiles consisted of just two rhombuses: a fat one in jade and a thin one in an alabaster marble. However, each rhombus was inscribed in a silver arch that went from one side to a neighboring side, and a and a gold arch that connected the two opposite sides.

The gold and silver lines linked up with the next rhombus over. The pattern was a collection of five pointed stars and arcs and circles that somehow did not ever repeat.

This formed a collection of shining silver and gold loops and whorls among stars of jade and whorls and arches of alabaster. The whole, interlocking mosaic was beautiful but also disquieting. The silver and gold lines never branched, never terminated, save for when a door or something was cut into one of the room's five walls.

Perhaps the shape of the compartment itself was contoured. The pentagonal room had five walls and the ceiling vaulted up in five curved triangular sections. The tiling seemed... the most... regular from the middle of the ceiling where an orb-like light stood at the very apex and center of the ceiling. Surrounding us in something like a pentagonal dome of jade and marble, silver and gold

The orb itself was odd as within it was a crystalline structure that reflected and emitted light in odd rings of five and ten points of light. Its light was bright but also a shade too far into the red. To be entirely comfortable.

It was also... challenging to see the pattern go out as it filled the ceilings and then went down the walls, which I noticed were not quite straight vertical or flat planes. The rhombuses might have slightly changed their sizes. Or that might have been a trick. I did not look too closely, not after when I entered and peered at the silver and gold inlay and realized that each line was less a solid line and more a chain of interlocking runes.

It was another example of something magical made.... mundane. The worst part was that if this ship had a room like this, that meant that these rooms were commonplace among the ships of the demonic empire's fleet.

At least it was easy to not look at the floor. Beneath a clear polymer was a similar pattern of rhombuses with their silver and gold inlay.

Freydis seemed immune to the issue. The five of us, including a tall aide to the captain, had crammed into the chamber around the central table. The Valkyrie was more focused on what was being shown to us.

Though BlackStone at least had some disquiet about her, though it was mixed by a barely-restrained urge to kneel down and study everything in the room. I was not sure if I should take comfort or worry in the wizard feeling ill-at-ease but also tempted.

The display itself, well... I was starting to get used to the illusionary holographic magic the demons had. The Svartalves had a similar capability. And the display over the table was deliberately simplistic.

It was a map of the city. Buildings and other terrain features were done in simple grey-green blocks that roughed out footprint and size.

The Formor were invading.

I did not need a key to know what the sickly yellow markers coming up from Lake Michigan meant.

"I suppose King Corb and his Master lied when they gave us several hours, you can never trust Titans," I noted.

The captain, Principales Zariah Magnus Schechter, eyed me; there was some mirth there. "Perhaps. We may have sped up their time tables, or they may intend to sally at midnight."

"We will show them their folly," BloodMist stated and nodded to the airship captain.

"Not us, not at the moment," Schechter admitted and motioned to her tall, black-haired aide.

The younger succubus moved her hands and the display shifted. Purple dots and symbols started to populate it. My eye went to a cluster of airships to the north of the Fomor landing zones.

That was us. This ship was the Patrol Carrier HFV Kestrel. Also with us was the Torpedo Corvette HFV Orchid with its eight Torpedoes.

BloodMist had been coy about exactly when those munitions could do, but I could do the math. Something that was equivalent to the weight of an eighth of a legionary century with a supporting artillery piece had to weigh several tons and this have a fair bit of capability.

And I doubted they only had one kind of warhead. Especially on vessels like the DarkStar. Which depending on how big it was... could have at least a hundred of the things. No wonder these demons also had a lot of cargo ships with them: reloads.

Again, I hated the feeling of surprise and shock. It was one thing to face one invading supernatural army. But now we were facing two.

I was a bit curious why there was no cargo ship with our little formation. Perhaps it was hanging back.

Instead our third airship was the Venture Scout HFV Juliet. A third the size of the Kestrel, from what BloodMist had said, it made this ship practically palatial. The Juliet existed as a reasonably high speed, and inexpensive platform for six Ritual Plate Pilots. They were outriders and screening assets for their Fleet.

That did explain why we were going by airship instead of taking a group of VTOLs. We were still going faster than by boat, and with this we had a larger force, and would not be limited by fuel if things went wrong.

Still, I was certain that the Juliet had other sensors, or scrying capabilities. And well... a small airship that had an endurance measured in weeks, could do more than fleet scouting and screening.

That made up our force. Altogether BloodMist had a bit over thirty Ritual Plate pilots, eight Torpedoes, one small Spatha VTOL, a few squads of Legionaries, whatever other weapons I was not privy to, and my own resources.

And we were taking a detour to avoid the Fomor Landings.

At least I had gotten a chance to, via various means, talk to Riley and give orders to him and to my sisters. The White Court would be ready. There were still things I could contribute to this.

Further, inland were more purple symbols. Many much larger than ours. Though all surrounded by a constellation of various escorts and screening figures. If my estimation was right, there was a group up to the north-west a bit past where O'Hare International Airport was.

It made sense, no matter the escorts, no matter the number of Ritual Plate, no matter what other protections these ships had.... they were still airships. They were fragile.

If the Fomor were attacking from Lake Michigan and as they had released a giant hex to disable mortal power systems.. then the demons would keep their troopships away from the enemy. Not too far, the more distance the more time it would take their dropships to make the round trip, but being able to hold their vulnerable troopships back was why they had dropships.

Even the Valhalla and the DarkStar were not over the city. Which made sense, if their main offensive weapons were Ritual Plate and a kind of enchanted long range stand-off missile...

I shook my head. All these precautions when White Court Intelligence was pretty sure that the Fomor had next to no air capability. Then again, said Intelligence also missed out on Ethniu and only heard rumblings that Corb was going to make a small strike later on in the Peace Talks. That was partially why I was willing to spend tonight rescuing my brother.

Not to mention their estimations on House BlackSky's capabilities.

I could not fault the demon's caution. If Corb had a way to take down one of their ships, he would. And if it were over the city... I did not want to think of the damage a half-kilometer long warship full of who-knows-what explosives, alchemical fuels, and magical energies would cause if it fell onto city block or two.

Part of me was worried that the demons used hydrogen as their lifting gas instead of something like helium. But... I really did not want to ask, not when I was still on board.

Alongside Freydis, I looked over the display. "All this intel is a composite of various land and air recon elements, no? Ritual Plate, Venture airships, and whatever Legionary scouts you've dropped in?"

The captain gave an indulgent nod, like I was a slow student who had potential. "But do not get too fixated." Her English was an odd mix of clipped vowels but flowing words. "We can't see everything and we can be spoofed. Can look for specific threats, but it will miss others, but it does give an overall trend."

BlackStone blinked. "What are the numbers?"

"We have to extrapolate from what our scouts are getting," the captain glanced at her aide.

BloodMist had a little grin as she studied the other purple marks on the map. Specifically, the octagonal symbols that had clustered around the Svatevelf Embassy.

"Sixty thousand. Plus or minus a few thousand. The boffins are still working on the exact composition. We can only fully ID a third of that. It helps that they're forming up and preparing inland." the aide shook her head. "But they've sent their own scouts ahead. And the shore is long with many buildings, and they can veil some of their troops. Or simply use tunnels dug ahead of time. And this is just their first wave."

Ah. That was going to be a problem. The map was sterile, but I knew, we all knew, that many Fomor, landing on the beaches were going to be murdering whoever they came across. Murdering and worse.

"And what are you doing about that?" BlackStone asked.

I made note of the use of "you" instead of "we".

As did BloodMist, but the demon simply held up a finger and kept us waiting for a few seconds. Then several more.

It was nearly half a minute before the yellow blocks near the shore started to break apart.

"Ah sister, so that's your game," BloodMist said after the map updated and dark purple parabolas appeared connecting the octagons in the Svartelf Embassy to the Fomor locations.

"You're shelling them," BlackStone noted with horror in her voice.

"Strength?" Freydis asked.

"Two reinforced Arachne batteries, call it thirty pieces," the aide supplied.

"It seems my sister prioritized landing those guns and a generous supply of munitions and protective equipment and other assets. That plus the skills the Svartalves have in defensive fortifications should make that a secure enough firebase," BloodMist stated.

"You're shelling Chicago," BlackStone stated as her tail twisted in knots. "Well... if it gets them."

I kept myself under more control. I had been around longer than the wizard and had seen horrors and the power of mortal weapons. Still, even I had not expected this.

"Damage Assessment is ongoing but.... artillery never gets everyone. We don't have perfect recon," the aide, Centurion Vilnus I think her name was, said.

"And we're not indiscriminately bombing," Schechter stated.

Which I wondered was because she thought it would be a waste of valuable ordnance or out of concern for human lives. I mean, Kine were... Kine. But we were fighting the Fomor, in part because we're better than them.

But mostly because the Fomor would kill us, and then the humans would go to war against the supernatural.

"Don't worry, it's not just Arachne." BloodMist gave a vicious grin. "The DarkStar and the 42nd Bombardment flotilla are using the artillery barrage as cover." She pointed to a few more explosions. "If I had to guess, those are Galatine warheads. Inexpensive, but in this situation, will do well against concentrations of troops.

"Not as well as other options, but it seems Sister is not letting the enemy know all that we can do just yet."

I blinked about the "inexpensive" part. The idea of a giant magical missile being cheap was... absurd. But every large organization had to manage a budget, and that meant whatever the demonic Legions was holding back was something... worrying.

I started to sympathize with Dresden, living alone and poor in a basement apartment, having to fight against the might of the Vampire Nations, or the White Council of Wizards. She had spent much of her... of his life being the scrappy underdog facing far larger enemies.

"If the enemy thinks we're mostly using mundane tube artillery, then they won't react as quickly," Schetler shook her head. "After this, they'll learn to distribute their forces and it'll be harder to catch them out in the open."

I was not certain. Corb was a very prideful man, and as long as it was not him personally being killed he could care little for his troops. And from what I had been told of Ethniu, her arrogance was such that she would hardly notice her minions dropping like flies. "I am not certain an artillery battery wound count as mundane in the Fomor's eyes."

"Their loss."

The aide had, oh so helpfully, zoomed in. And the abstraction turned into a feed that jittered about. It also was not quite perfect as if it was taking something from a couple angles that almost got the whole picture. It was probably a composite of some forward scouts and maybe some airborne assets.

I idly wondered how the data intake was being processed; the demons did not seem to have much in the way of electronics. Empty Night, how did their communications work? Were they using radio waves? Some sort of thaumaturgy? Something else?

Were they secure against the Fomor? The White Council?

The display was now showing a group of Fomor in parade-neat lines forming up out of the water on a park. There were the slimy octopus-ape hybrids, turtle-necked human servitors, lanky muscular humanoids, and groups of froggy-like Fomor themselves. All in blocks and under banners.

There were a handful of scattered human bodies. Mostly pushed to the side like so much detritus.

Then came the artillery strike. The first salvo cut most of them down. The next were even more accurate and cut through even more. A few of the Fomor mages put up wards and shields. I would like to think there was wild fear on their faces. That of an unknown killer that they could barely comprehend let alone stop, but the resolution was not good enough to make out their expressions.

And that's when I realized this was not some macabre display for our benefit.

The footage was from multiple angles, triangulating coordinates. The Fomor defenders, the Formor survivors had marked their positions. And were now hit by the third barrage. An entire cohort of Fomor had just been functionally obliterated

BlackStone sighed. "You said that's not going to get them all."

BloodMist shook her head "The front is too large. Even if we were willing to level every block that butted the waterfront, they'd still come through. The rubble would give them cover.

No, they're going to make landfall. If we had more time we could position our troops and fight them on the beaches, but then they'd be fighting with their back to the water, to their domain."

Dresden's eyes were flat. "They're going to get into the city."

"Daughter, you knew that; you knew that would happen with or without us."

"You could have landed your troops anywhere in the city, you could confront them on the shore."

"They would go around and flank us. Besides, it takes time to organize our forces. If AshRain can avoid a hot, contested landing straight into combat, especially for our heavy equipment, she will do that."

"She focused on the artillery..." BlackStone's hands clenched as the display zoomed back out. "She wanted to hurt them. But they'll still get through."

"Not without heavy losses," I said. "And you don't want to use up all of your munitions now, on targets that may not exist, instead of later when you're directly fighting them. Harry, this is the right move. It's terrible, but this is war."

BlackStone gave me a hurt look. As if she expected me to take her side.

BloodMist nodded. "Yes, and while attacking them now does let them know of some of our capabilities, and teach them to disperse and avoid traveling in the open in a dense mass. We are doing more than thinning their numbers.

"We are spoiling their attack, ruining their formations. Keeping your enemy from organizing in good order is vital. Their Landing Zones are under heavy bombardment, ours are not."

Freydis took the baton. "Right, they'd want to gather their forces and organize them for a push. They'll send out small raiding, scouting, probing attacks, but to hold land they'll need a large, coherent, group. And anytime they form up in neat parade rows they're at the risk of getting blasted." The Valkyrie gave a vicious smile. "And that means you can take apart their scouts."

"And we're pretty sure they don't have communications, not to the tactical level," I stated. "They'll have to spend more time on runners and coordinating distributed forces."

BlackStone frowned at all of us.

"You saw Ethniu, you know what she's like. You know her weaknesses, her pride, her inexperience. She'll order the Fomor to push through," BloodMist said. "She is going to get an education."

"And that's how you beat a numerically superior foe. You whittle them down in stages, you break them apart into separate units and kill them one at a time," I added. "And with my men providing translators and local scouts. Along with Marcone's men, we will have the advantage of home territory."

"The Chancellor of the White Court is correct," the Captain said, in a tone that indicated she took a bit of thought to not start that sentence with "even"

BloodMist gave her daughter her full attention. "We can drop you off here. If it is your wish to get them right now it will be granted. Mother would even send support with you. Like a Cohort or two.

"But such a salient, so close to the beaches, to their lines..."

"You'll get surrounded," Freydis said.

"It will help defend the Svartalf Embassy," the aide helpfully said. "By focusing the enemy's attention on you."

"Beyond encirclement, you will have the full wrath of Corb and the Titan." BloodMist's tail stilled. "Having a hardpoint like that right on their lines, would be a major thorn in their side. It is not a complete waste, it will buy time, and keep them from moving off the beach."

"Knowing Dresden, Corb and Ethniu will not be able to just bypass her," I added, appreciating the option they were giving the pouting princess. "She is annoying to her enemies in that way."

BlackStone's Mother nodded. "However, those attached to her will be volunteering for a forlorn hope."

The wizard seemed to deflate. "I can't put people in danger just because I want to stop something."

The captain quirked an eyebrow.

"Not just because. There has to be a reason, and sending people to die isn't much better if I'm there with them."

"A forlorn hope is not, technically a suicide mission," BloodMist stated. "A formation of Fomor with the Titan's support, or the other way around, will be formidable and high casualty. But you would have considerable air support and resupply."

"Yeah, well that's part of why I want to go to my island," BlackStone snapped then seemed to droop a bit more.

"Ah, you've secured some equipment, weapons, or other assets there?" BloodMist's eyes sparkled.

I frowned. It was easy to underestimate Dresden. Yes, she was stubborn and had a strong moral sense, but she was also... well Dresden. If it were anyone else I would assume her "clumsy succubus" thing was an act.

That said, Dresden was connected to that cursed island in some way. She had fought enough on it and used it to her advantage and claimed it. It was also where she had some means of protecting our brother.

And... she had secured things there. Wizards were frustrating like that. They would ferret out secrets and artifacts and hoard knowledge like a squirrel with nuts. Maybe after events such as a group of Necromancers trying to empower themselves, having to slay multiple Fairy Queens, and taking out the Red Court... maybe BlackStone... maybe Dresden started preparing.

We were on a demonic war-zeppelin due to her after all.

I glanced at BloodMist. She knew. Or that is to say she suspected. Hence this little flotilla.

I watched as the barrages moved to different Fomor concentrations. "You've made an incorrect assumption."

The captain looked skeptical, as if someone who did not have their experience could miss something. That I was some minor power with a negligible military force.

BloodMist however nodded to me. "You do live here."

I raised my arms to encompass the magically charged and assembled compartment, the airship, their whole fleet. "This is professional. You value your troops and will work to keep them alive. I'm sure your rivals do as well. If not for moral reasons the simple realpolitik that a Great House that has thrown away its military forces will cease to be a Great House."

I shook my head at the map. "The Fomor don't care; they'll sacrifice their minions, and they don't plan to stay in the field that long. And the titan doesn't care if all the Fomor die."

"Still... every Fomor killed trying to get off the beach is one less to fight in the city," Schetler countered.

I nodded to the captain. "And that's why you need to keep up the pressure. Don't think that you can break their will or get them to retreat. You can't have them be combat ineffective but still alive."

"Even the Fomor's human servants have been modified to put no value to their lives," BlackStone agreed.

BloodMist and the captain shared a look with some mix of subtle and not so subtle body language. They then went to the aide.

The almost-mousy-looking woman lifted her hands and with a soft pale green glow at her eyes many of the silver and gold circles and whorls on the walls and ceiling started to flare with antic light.

There was a series of exchanges that started simple and then BloodMist got involved and after maybe a minute the map in the table split.

One half was still a map, the other was a monochrome pale green projection of a prim woman in Legionary battle-dress. She looked to be in some sort of armored vehicle that was bouncing about. I caught the image of a few other officers and troops before the feed cuts to an image of just House Legate AshRain standing there.

Another of the Imperatrix's Daughters. I wondered what BlackSky herself was up to?

As was her wont, BlackStone gave some inane comment, something about us nearing the main power generator and a shield being down in moments.

BloodMist ignored that. "Sister, we've got confirmation. The Fomor won't break. They won't pull back and redeploy."

"Oh?" AshRain's tone was mild and she seemed to be splitting her attention between us and another conversation she was having without words.

"Legate, you saw Corb and Ethniu, do you think they care about their troops?" I asked.

"Well." AshRain's full attention was on me as she gave a sharp smirk. "Are you certain? The Council thought they might break and the Fae courts were non-committal. I was balancing between showing more of our cards to hit them harder or seeing if they would shatter under the current barrage."

"That won't work." I said. "Oh yes, those you kill will stay dead. Unless they have a necromancer. But they won't waste men caring for the wounded. They won't run because you've killed half their number. They'll reform shattered units. If only to avoid Ethniu's wrath, they'll keep fighting."

"She did seem prideful, inexperienced, and disdainful of machines," AshRain noted, and that distant expression was back. She was not ignoring us; she was giving orders.

"She is a being from another age. From a time more terrible than even you can imagine, with rampant magic and gods," I cautioned.

AshRain showed teeth. "Then we will give her an education in modern magical warfare. If she is willing to send her troops into a meat grinder, then we shall oblige."

BloodMist nodded. "Make the rubble bounce, Sister."

AshRain bowed her head. "Get what your daughter requires and get back. We need her and we need your expertise." AshRain said, "And we need you, Lady Raith."

I bowed my head to hers.

AshRain paused. "Oh, be careful over the water, I'm releasing the 42nd's corvettes and torpedo bombers and some other assets. They'll be depth charging using our stock of tridents and Galtines anything under the waves that looks funny. I recommend changing course to not get in the way"

BloodMist gasped. "Surely not..."

Her sister laughed. "Stars no. These are Madhu's Tridents. I don't believe Mother will authorize Shiva's. But please, do be careful, I leave you in Principales Zariah Magnus Schechter's hands. Good Luck." she stated before cutting the connection.

Oh. That last bit... that was... meant for me. Shiva's Trident also known as Trishula was a mighty weapon in mythology. One of three of Shiva's weapons. She was a goddess of creation and creativity, but also one with the moniker "the Destroyer". Created using matter from the sun, the actual Trishula severed Ganesha's original head.

And the demons used it to name a Torpedo, a Torpedo that required the authorization of their supreme leader to deploy.

If that was not blatant enough I thought of what other giant missiles were called "tridents"

The demons were telling me, in a deniable way, that....

Empty Night.

The DarkStar. I knew the stories. The tales of demonic invasions seemed less fanciful now. Less so the idea of BlackSky deciding to destroy an entire rival House in a pique of vengeance.

These demons were prideful and arrogant. Even Dresden had a bit of that when she returned. And DarkStar was insufferably, but adorably, prideful. And it seemed, in some ways, justified.

I was sure their troops were capable and professional and could be supported and deployed in good order. I was also sure that the various spying and recon they had done before the peace talks would serve them well.

But this was not their world, they were strangers here. No wonder they were working with Marcone's men and mine and took my advice over that of Winter and the White Council. The Fae and the Wizards were powerful, no doubt, but in many ways both were distant from the mortal world and the kind of war the Fomor had been fomenting.

But with the Trishulas... I was not certain that such weapons were even on the Battlecruiser DarkStar. It was an obvious platform, and well-defended. But perhaps they were kept on some anonymously smaller ship. Empty Night, a corvette could hold eight Torpedoes. How many Shiva's tridents did they really need?

I could imagine some little patrol craft in an out of the way area, crewed and guarded by troops especially loyal. But other than that the airship would ac perfectly normal, save that one or two, gotta have redundancy, if its Torpedoes could kill a city. I gave a crazed little laugh at the realization that one of those ubiquitous little corvettes was part of our formation.

It probably wasn't that one. I mean... we were going over water. It probably wasn't us.

"Lady Raith?" BloodMist politely asked, a bit of mirth in her tone.

From the horror in BlackStone's expression she had figured it out as well. The demons had brought weapons of mass destruction.

And the older demoness seemed proud of both of us.

"You are not nuking Chicago!" BlackStone shouted.

"I would rather hope not," BloodMist stated. "Given, my mother, several of my sisters and. oh yes, twenty thousand and rising Legionaries are down there. I would rather they not all die."

Dresden blinked and it took her a bit to process. We were in the sky and could escape. And I was certain that the rest of Dresden's family, save that stubborn old Scot, were being evacuated up to some airship.

"Daughter, the Eye of Balor is a magical weapon of mass destruction. It is in the hands of a petty but powerful being who thinks of us as ants. We need a contingency plan in case all others fail."

"And that's using magic nukes of your own?" BlackStone waspishly asked.

Her mother gave a toothy grin. "No. BlackStone, that's you. You are our contingency plan."

I managed to keep my composure. And it would be my job to make sure the wizard did not fail.


End Part 4
 
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Chapter 15: One with the Sea
The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple

Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:

Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.

Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 15: One with the Sea

After checking that I was not transmitting, I gave a sigh of frustration. House Trosier had fired a brace of submarine-launched missiles at an Alecton cruiser. They had also deployed roughly seventy Ritual Plate, about a light BlackSkyvian Wing.

From their disposition and numbers, it seemed that there were two Trosic Strike Escadron; each consisting of twenty-seven Baptiste strike RP and fifteen Rochefort air superiority models.

It was a robust formation focused on heavy strikes with reasonable escorts that could be split into sub-groups. House Trosier had sent one formation as a second barrage against that Howe class missile cruiser, while the other had been sent against the freighter we had been inspecting for contraband.

We had found all that and more, and House Trosier had decided to tie up a loose end. Personally, I found it excessive and a reckless escalation. People would die over the uncaring sea.

But Trosier had not asked my opinion. I had sent my Flight out ahead of the rest of the squadron to blunt their attack.

Inspecting the composite data on the map display that my Gorgon Rig and the various other scrying systems, I made a few range calculations and flashed my fangs.

We were outnumbered and our Polyxo suits were in Strike configuration which was not ideal for anti-air.

"Here's the target list and weapons selections," I said over the Flight channel. While Trosier had tolerable Veiling systems, their Ritual Plate were more easily detected. Multiple Gorgon Rigs on our side, something I would report as further evidence of the system's broader utility, and their decision to move at their maximum possible velocity essentially killed any hopes for stealth the Trosic Pilots might have harbored.

There was a brief pause as my Pilots took in the fire mission. "We're not targeting their Baptistes?" VioletBlood asked.

"Correct. Now is not the time to focus on their strike RP," I stated

"But our Lances outrange theirs," Visha replied. She was correct. The high power emitters on the Baptiste were not as far-ranged as the Telephe, or a strike-Polyxo. The Baptiste was also rather less maneuverable, but more robust for naval operations. Overall, it made a cheaper suit than the Telephe. One that could still hit hard and at long range but was more vulnerable to airborne threats. It did mean that a strike package was less expensive to field, but required dedicated escort.

"Exactly." GreyDawn chuckled. "There's still a fair bit of time before their strike suits get in range of that freighter."

"Meanwhile. we can fire on them while staying out of their range," I added.

"But... they won't accept that. They'll send their escorts to take us out and they outnumber us four to one," VioletBlood countered.

I laughed. "Hopefully, I doubt they'll leave their strike forces naked but..."

I could imagine Visha nodding along as I quickly switched to the Flight Leader channel to inform the other Flights and Prefect Quirinus of my plans. "The squadron commander of those Rocheforts may be tempted to split her forces. Two Flights to guard the strike suits, and then two Flights to hit our single Flight," she said

"Cutting their escorts in half," VioletBlood chortled. The little war maniac automatically assumed we would prevail on two-to-one odds.

Her arrogance was not entirely misplaced. The enemy was likely flying a navalized Rochefort which had more waterproofing and a broader performance envelope. As an air-superiority suit, it lacked the performance of a Harmonia, while also edging into too broad of a remit by having some light anti-ship and anti-surface roles. Unlike other Trosic RP models, they also carried a respectable amount of the one-one shot mortar-like tubes loaded with short-range anti-mage payloads.

The Rochefort did not have the performance upgrades of the Tjardu, a Zioxan derivative. Thus it was a less expensive suit. But also one that, absent Pilot skill, needed a numerical advantage to take on a Harmonia. "Careful, the Grand Admiral does not assign poor quality Pilots to critical escort duties," I admonished.

At least VioletBlood had the sense to not transmit her haughty sniff.

++++++

Occasionally, I disliked being proven correct. Whoever was commanding that Trosic formation was clever. After our focused Lance Strike at beyond recommended max range destroyed a Rochefort and, in a bout of mistaken identity, critically damaged a Baptiste, the enemy commander did peel off a force to counter us.

I had a bit of sympathy for that Baptiste Pilot. Going down over water was a bad fate for an RP Pilot. If she had to ditch, she would have to eject out of the suit or be pulled under. And even with flotation devices, she'd be at the mercy of the elements. At least the water was a bit warmer here.

She could try to go back to the submarine that launched her but that would just lead her enemies, us, straight to the vessel which we would endeavor to sink. Having a submarine near to recovery depth was a risk and one not worth a single Pilot. Honestly, her best option was to broadcast her surrender on an open channel, dump her suit in the Gaudia sea, and hope House BlackSky and not House Alecto picked her up. We were more inclined to do prisoner exchanges than our Alecton allies. And it was not like either House flogged our POWs.

But that singular tragedy of someone drowning cold and alone was at the back of my mind. Tonight was going to be a night full of loss, what was one more?

The Trosic commander had been clever. She had sent a force after us. But Instead of two Flights of Rochefort, she sent what looked like six of the escort suits and four strike suits. They planned to return the favor and counter-fire.

It weakened their overall strike package, but they were trying to take out a freighter, one filled with munitions. It was overkill and honestly, she would be better served with more fighter RP, but the Trosic commander had a set amount of each type of suit and that was that.

Attention was a critical resource in battle. One had to be focused on immediate threats but an officer had to keep an eye on the larger picture. Fortunately, I was merely a Flight Leader.

If I were still a Field Officer, as in my previous life, I would have to put more focus on how the Alecton Howe class cruiser and its RP Combat Air Patrol Squadrons had just barely managed to defeat the incoming missile barrage. And how that had left them somewhat out of position to deal with the second Escadron which would be in target range sooner than the one we were fighting.

That was just the defensive aspect. Those Trosic submarines had to be tracked and hunted down and our own Mulberry Fast attack craft were also being attacked and could fight back as well.

Nearer to me, I would also have to keep abreast of what was happening on the Sunset Breeze. Was it being evacuated? Where were the VTOLs? Even at the Squadron Commander level, Quirinus is coordinating with the Sarpedona Flights running escort to the Spatha VTOLs and any other BlackSkyvian RP in the area.

But that was all above my pay grade. My focus was on two reinforced flights worth of enemy RP that was on an intercept vector.

I had my Flight change course, at max power, as if we were swinging around the intercepting force to try to get back to threatening the main enemy RP force.

"They're still coming," VioletBlood noted. "But we can't draw them out too far."

"Right," GreyDawn agreed. "If we're no threat to their main force then they'll simply rejoin them."

"Then we better keep their force divided," Visha said.

Listening to them and taking part in the Flight Leader channel, I smirked. I then finished up and went back to my Flight. "That's right girls. Now, let's get their attention."

The enemy formation was moving aggressively, but sensibly. The six Rochefort fighters were spread in a staggered arrow formation of three pairs with the four Baptiste strike suits back and in the protective "pocket" of their escorts.

Timing was key. We could get a couple more Lance shots in before the Baptiste got into range. Thus it was their imperative to try and intercept us as soon as possible. Their evasion was minimal but they would increase it the closer they got in.

"Mark targets," I ordered as I checked the composite display. We had a handful of Lance shorts left and this was the time to make them count. Being proper escorts, Rocheforts provided some measure of protection and their own Veils and countermeasures helped protect their charges.

It was a solid formation.

It was also one that was built around a tactical mistake. One the Pilot in charge should have realized.

And yet we would give them one more chance to learn.

Mercy's Flight had burst in and opened fire with their Lances on the main force. They only took out one escort RP. But the reaction was the same and sensible enough. Two more flights peeled off one of each type. There was some risk as that left the main strike force with only four escorts. But letting another BlackSkyvian flight freely harass them was unacceptable.

Second Flight should be able to handle that. If not, if not. I could only put a bare bit of attention on them. Most of my focus was on the enemy before me. The range was almost right, the targeting was getting better. Just a bit more...

"Fire Solution, Two," I ordered as each of us fired our projectors. Eight blinding, relentless Lance beams speared out. Lances were very powerful weapons. And now my Flight was down to just a single Lance shot remaining. Not counting myself, as I had fired that warning shot across the freighter's bow earlier tonight, I was already empty

And those Baptiste would be hard targets.

But this time the enemy force was moving with greater focus on us, was at closer range, we had a bit more time to refine our targeting, and there was far more ordnance in the sky.

The House Trosier Pilots reacted well. They were in a good formation and had solid enough training. When faced with enough firepower to burn through a battleship's active defenses, Wards, and armor they did not panic and reacted as a cohesive unit.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong reaction.

They had trained to protect the RP they were escorting above all. For a RP escorting a strike force to ensure it can fire on a large high-value target, it was the sensible reaction. For a small formation going out to attack enemy RP, it was the wrong reaction.

The Lances sliced through the formation. The hit ratio was lousy, RP were rather small and fast moving compared to the normal targets of Lances, but with the power levels involved even a glancing blow could be sufficient to cripple an enemy suit.

Three Rocherfort were destroyed, or were sputtering wrecks, two more were moderately damaged and one unlucky Baptiste Pilot had her wards overload from a grazing shot which also heated up her own flasks causing chain detonation of her munitions and power cells.

"Charge Emitters! Drop flasks!" I ordered. The alchemical power cells that stored the bracing power channeled though Lance Projectors were massively-intricate artificer creations . The cells were stored on conformal flasks that bolted onto the outside of the suit's torso, sort of like an extra-thick bodice. They could be ejected if damaged, or to recoup some weight savings and gain a slight performance edge.

If I survived, I would justify the expense to Quirinus, but I doubted she would object much. Right now this meant that my Flight had three Lances ready and were not weighted down by the flasks.

The formation was rattled; half their escorts were down, but they still had teeth.

If we were flying Harmonia that would not be as much of an issue. As House BlackSky's air superiority and interceptor suit, its high-end performance and maneuverability gave it a primary defensive role of taking out enemy strike Ritual Plate, in addition to its offensive roles in establishing air dominance.

An interesting thing about the Polyxo suit I wore was the primary difference between the Air superiority configuration and the Strike configuration was that the latter had the projectors, power feeds, and flasks to fire Lances. While the former had extra thrust capability, maneuvering, and more capacity on the anti-air Ballista projectors

But of the three primary configurations Strike and Air Superiority were the closest. Which meant that without our Flasks weighing us down, I had, after the Polyxo configuration for this role, the third best thing to a Harmonia Flight.

"Match course. And ready for evasion, they are going to fire at maximum range," I stated.

"But they should wait until we're just out of our Ballista range. That way they can get the better targeting data and have the least time for us to maneuver," VioletBlood countered.

"That would be their best move." I agreed. "But that ignores the psychological factor. They've taken losses, heavy losses. And more of their comrades have peeled off to protect the main strike team from Mercy's Flight."

"And here's my Flight," I purred. We were under a moderate Veil, but I was doing little to obscure our approach. I was focused more on maneuvering to avoid their fire and close than hiding who we were.

"You think they have intel on us?"

"I know if a Zioxan 'mercenary' Pilot could figure out who a white feather-winged Polyxo Pilot in this theater was, I don't have to ask you what the odds were that Pilots from their ally House Trosier were also informed," I lightly said.

GreyDawn laughed.

A few moments passed. "We'll be nearing the range that our boffins and spooks think their Lances max out at, so unless they're wrong or Trosier has a new model... well I guess we'll find out soon enough."

There was more laughter, but we had started adding more maneuvers to our flight paths. Three Baptiste meant a max of a dozen Lances, more likely nine. That was still a good amount against four enemy RP.

"Besides, they'll think we're empty on our Lances; let them think they have the superior range," I ordered. Keeping my Flight's Lance projectors, their focusing apparatus and emitters, charged up did add wear to the system. My Flight would also have to fire soon or the entire apparatus would have to be refurbished. Storing that much arcane energy in a ready-to-fire state also meant that if someone got hit, a sympathetic detonation was more likely.

It was a risk, but if I were in the enemy's hooves and I had superior range I would endeavor to keep my distance. Meanwhile, I wanted to close so those last Lances will have a better hit ratio.

"Incoming fire," GreyDawn stated, her voice oddly cool. The tracks that appeared on the map made the massive arcane blasts look far slower and sterile than the danger they represented.

"Evade. Evade. Evade!" I ordered, not because my Flight was not already scattering, but because it was part of our training.

The three enemy Lances blinked across the distance to us. I was in the lead position. From my display, I gauged that two strikes would miss VioletBlood and Visha due to their jinking and sudden accelerations. The third was one to my left I could evade, but... after me, it would pass GreyDawn.

And she, however, would have a far harder time evading. The Lance would miss. But with an arcane weapon designed to blow though capital ship protections, close was enough to kill a Ritual Plate. It would be almost far enough for GreyDawn's wards to protect her.

Almost. Not enough.

We had all moved the most we could and it was rotten luck that it would hit her. But... in another twist of luck, I was also positioned to do something.

My reaction was automatic. I had an instant. I slammed to the side, Zephyr and wings screaming in pain. I dumped all my spare power, including my earrings, into my port-side wards. Silver light flared around me like a comet as I tried for just the correct intercept angle.

Too close and I'd immolate myself, and not even save GreyDawn. Too far and I'd deflect but still blow myself up. I had to kiss the Lance with enough force to brush past and alter its deflection while not detonating it.

I only needed a couple of degrees. And for a moment, my Wards screaming, alert lights flickering to orange and red, I thought I had it. The pressure on my Wards eased as I pulled away pushing my Zephyr to get maximum separation. My Display updated. Alarms were still blaring, but the Lance was racing past me on its new heading.

And then it detonated.

My Wards flashed over and then my alarms cut out and my display crashed. I tumbled with my suit burning and prickling agony as I fell.

The worst was in my tail as it felt boiled-over and my wings had almost been blasted back. I had a splitting headache that felt like my horns had been pounded into my skull

The pain was good. It meant I was alive. I started casting the ritual to restart my suit's systems. It was supposed to be an automatic process, but the procedure was for the pilot to do it as well. There was a squealing noise; something had torn away above my left hip. My suit smelled of hot metal fragments and burnt leather.

And my display remained off.

I could see out of my eye lenses but that was just barely enough for basic flying. Navigation, especially over water at night, required instruments.

Though I only had until I crashed into the sea. I glanced down at a mechanical altimeter with its luminous dial in the corner of my vision. It was spinning down. Maybe I would be hit by the enemy, maybe I would have to ditch my suit. Other backups such as the compasses, aetheric and magnetic, and gyros were still operational.

I tried restarting my suit again and this time a few indicator lights flickered on. They were a sullen amber instead of a bright green but it was something. Now able to be fed suit power, my Zephyr were coaxed back awake, they had been shaken but the spirits accepted the inputs. And then my display flickered back up and I winced.

Half of my ward projectors were just... gone. My power systems were battered and I had damage to my Lances, but more worryingly one of my Ballista air to air weapons systems was out. At least I had ditched the Flasks and my Lance emitters were not charged. Even my Verutum launcher was down with both a fault in the fed mechanism of the pebble-like munitions and the power to the launcher itself severed.

In all, my weapon choices were rather low. Worse, my suit was in strike configuration which meant I had a lower energy capacity with Ballista than if I were in fighter configuration.

The map came up as my comms and scrying returned.

"The enemy's slowing down," Visha noted. I saw her highlighting velocity and heading estimates on the Display.

"They'll be trying to maintain distance and get a more accurate follow-up." I gasped, barely audible. My throat suddenly became very dry. I drank some water, thankful that system had not failed.

"What about the countess?" VioletBlood demanded, apparently not hearing me.

"She would want us to use this opportunity; she has time,' GreyDawn stated. "Mark your targets. If they'll give us that chance we will take it."

The enemy strike suits should have given an immediate follow-up shot. But they waited a few seconds to get a better targeting. Having only hit one of us must have spooked them.

They were angry and afraid. They had been thrown into a mission they had not expected and now, in this moment they thought they had us at their mercy. And so their strike RP slowed and took a steadier course. They took that extra time to ensure their targeting. Maybe they were afraid, maybe they were overconfident, but they forgot the most important part of air-to-air combat:

"Fire," I ordered, my voice returning. I knew my input was not necessary. I had trained my Flight. My focus was on regaining my position, speed, and altitude.

GreyDawn had beat me by a half second with her own command.

The three fired, and this time their my Flight's last Lances targeting the three remaining Baptiste. Two were solid hits, one was a graze, but the suit flared and she jettisoned her own flasks.

"Well done!" I congratulated as I caught up on the greater tactical picture. It was... hectic. Mercy's Flight was similarly mauling the small Trosic detachment chasing them.

Quirinus' Flight, supported by nearly a squadron of Sarpedona that had been escorting the Spatha, was moving to intercept the remaining sixteen Baptiste before they could get in range of the Sunset. That was still a powerful strike package, especially against a freighter, and one that could also target smaller surface assets like a Mulberry Fast Attack Craft. But, due to our efforts, they only had a Flight of four Rocheforts escorting them.

The Alecton forces were still in the fight. Though, it seems our allies had been wounded, as their cruiser had been damaged and was billowing smoke. The Trosic forces were pulling back but were under pursuit. They would have to break contact somehow if they wanted to make it to their submarines without endangering the u-boats.

That was all beyond me and just taken in with a glance at my restored map data. Head still pounding, I focused on what mattered right now. I could feel everything sharpen and a bit of the pain dull as my suit's medical system responded.

The enemy before us was now down to a Flight in strength. They had two damaged Rochefort, one that was fresh, and one damaged Baptiste with no Lances.

Even with my own damaged suit... I was comfortable with those odds.

The enemy managed to get a fairly coherent formation. They were well-trained enough and capable of taking losses, but they had to be in a bad state. Not just of their own fate but of the rest of their strike Escadron had been eviscerated. Admirably, they were still trying to keep us from reuniting with friendly forces.

It was unfortunate that they had dedicated themselves to an already doomed task.

With Visha in a protective spot at my wing, GreyDawn and VioletBlood formed up and led the assault targeting the two Pilots on the forward half of the somewhat out-dated elongated diamond formation.

Opening fire with their Ballistas, they caught two damaged enemy suits and started soaking their wards. The enemy peeled off and flipped into a more aggressive stance.

Cutting off from the rest of their Flight, I was not sure if they were trying to draw VioletBlood and GreyDawn away to protect the rest of their flight, but it was a risky move, damaged as those two Trosic Pilots were.

The sole fully-intact enemy RP launched herself at me. I could appreciate the Rochefort Pilot's logic. At a glance, I would look like the easy target, and taking me out could be a quick way to get numerical superiority.

That was the dire part about Flight-scale combat. The first casualty, then the second, could turn an even match into something prohibitively lopsided.

But Visha was there; she took the lead, immediately firing and cutting off the enemy Pilot, nearly diving into knife-fighting range.

I had a moment of indecision. The classroom correct choice would be swooping in to assist Visha. I was combat capable enough that I could contribute and two on one would make that fight much quicker.

But then I saw the last Baptise trying to fly off. "We've got a runner," I said over the flight channel and went in pursuit of the errant strike suit.

I chanced a quick gaze over my display, and noted that my Flight seemed to have things well in hand. The enemy RP, for all they were ably piloted, were getting more damaged with each passing second.

Adjusting my Gorgon Rig, which was also damaged, I found that the fleeing pilot had dropped her emissions even lower. It was hard to tell if she was attempting stealth, or if her suit had been more badly damaged than I had thought?

As best I could, given my own damage, I followed suit and cut down my emissions. The heading was strange. It was vaguely in the direction of the forces that Mercy and Quirinus were engaging. Was the pilot going to a rally point? Was she going to their enemy sub?

A bit of anger flared within me. If that was the pilot's goal, then she was showing a treasonous level of cowardice. Ritual Plate was not the best at anti-submarine warfare. The suits had less capacity for underwater scrying and sonar systems and were not the best for carrying depth charges arcane or otherwise.

But we could do airborne tracks and surface scans and we could call in VTOLs that were equipped with anti-sub capabilities.

"She spotted me," I stated, giving in a little curse as her course changed just a bit and her Scrying swept over me. Both our suits were damaged enough that our Veils and other low observable systems were fairly shot. "Moving to intercept."

I dove down. The range closed and I opened fire, only for my targeting system to malfunction and the indicator on my instrument display flicker off. Even after manually correcting, only a few of the arcane shots splashed against the enemy's wards. I would have to be careful; a cornered Pilot would fight with every weapon at hand.

Rolling over, she fired back, and I pulled tighter into my curve to evade. Above, the battle was going well for the rest of my Flight. Quirinus' Flight and the Alecton sub hunters seemed to be having quite the field day, having a broken strike formation and forced the surrender of several pilots, and hinting multiple subs respectively.

I flipped over and got tagged flaring my wards as the amber arcane energy blasts hit. Some hit the weak spot where my projectors had burned out and started hitting my armor.

Darting, I took careful aim, making sure to lead to compensate, and fired. My remaining Ballista's capacity dwindled in the profligate burst, but I was rewarded with the enemy pilot's wards flashing out.

Turning, she went into a powered dive that gained her speed but brought both of us closer to the ocean. I had to give her credit for her skills. Despite the damage to her suit and the fear I could begin to sense as our distance closed, she managed to pull her dive to prevent her from becoming an obvious target.

Angling her shoulders back, she started firing off her own anti-mage weapons. Unlike the more complicated, but higher capacity, Verutum launcher, House Trosier Ritual Plate had a handful of single shot mortar-like launchers. They were rather similar to the pyrotechnics mortars I had used in the ballet troupe.

Annoyingly, that comparison was proven far more accurate than I had anticipated as a brace of blinding, bursting explosions flashed in front of me. My helmet's eye lenses automatically closed, and my Veils were burned away as my Wards began to lose cohesion. The headache rooted in my horns increased as my display grew very sparse.

I was just barely able to see that the Pilot had jackknifed in front of me, firing her own anti-air weapons. I powered through the blinding attack and, turning so that my side with the remaining projectors bore the brunt, returned fire.

It was inelegant and brutish as we pummeled each other. Her targeting systems must have been damaged as well, given the spread of her fire. This close, I could tell that there was more than fear in my enemy; there was a bitter resignation.

Setting my jaw, my lips pulled back I plummeted to her in a direct controlled dive. Alarms screamed around me, but I could tell by the overlapping tones that none of them were that critical.

Taking an instant to steady my aim, I fired. I had to be careful. I was nearly empty. Ballista charges shot out, and the enemy's forward wards collapsed. I grinned when I saw part of the enemy's skull shatter and fly off into the night.

My mood dampened when I realized that it was merely a piece of her helmet and the whole faceplate that had been torn away.

I blinked. The Pilot was young, not much older than VioletBlood. And now her fear had turned into naked terror, but more than that, her radiating resignation had curdled into fatalistic despair.

She had a shot but her gauntlet did not fire. Aching loss, loss of sisters, or near sisters, of family had made the young Pilot's emotions brittle, sharp. Well, if Quirinus was taking prisoners...

"Surrender. Eject your suit. Parole will be granted," I said over an open channel in semi-memorized Akoccitan. The language of House Trosier was a Romance language so there was enough similarity to Silvan Latin to be confusing.

At this low altitude, the Pilot could see her suit fall into the sea, which all but guaranteed that she was not surrendering military secrets to House BlackSky. She'd be able to soothe a guilty conscience, if any troubled her, that her surrender hadn't' cost her House anything it wasn't already going to lose.

My Ballista was aimed over her as we closed in. Her eyes were wide and almost panicked. I wondered if her communications systems were down.

But... she was no longer pointing her weapons at me and she did glance down at the sea below. Maybe she could see reason.

We had slowed down, and she was hardly trying to shake me. The fight above us was nearly concluded. "Surrender; die," I repeated in Akoccitan, keeping target lock as my Wards recovered while hers seemed to stay down. "No difference for me."

Feeling complete resignation, the young Pilot exhaled. Glancing back up at me, she whispered. Wings snapped inward and she plummeted.

I almost fired as she pushed her Zephyr and went into a vertical dive.

At this altitude, it did not take long.

Even if she somehow survived impacting the water at that velocity, the weight of her suit quickly pulled her deep below the surface.

I took a moment focusing my Gorgon Rig on the heaving sea to make sure this was not some... desperate way to reunite with her submarine.

There was nothing there.

And there was nothing I could do.

It was all such a waste. Glancing at my Display, I cursed myself. I had gotten target-fixation and let my Flight down. That they had defeated their enemies was small comfort. Giving the sea one look, I ascended to get back to Visha and the others I also had to check in with Quirinus, though it looked like the air-to-air part of this battle was over.

++++++

My feet treading the metal decking, I strode down the airship's long passageway with a confident step. There was the constant hum of the airship's various systems and the deck rocked ever so slightly. Nevertheless, I strode with the effortless confidence; I might be lower nobility, I might be young, but I was raised and trained from birth.

A Legionary through and through, I rightfully felt that the Imperial Legions were superior to the Household Fleet. Also it was important for both my military and social rank to conduct myself with proper bearing. After all, the Imperatrix in her wisdom encouraged commoners, and nobles, to better themselves, both for their benefit and for our House's.

And Countess DiamondDust was a prime example of just what sort of advancement was possible, if one had special drive and skill. And her elevation had pushed me to heights of ability and potential faster than I had dreamed.

My future, my duty, seemed more secure than I dared hope... provided some savage Minor House missile crew or lesser Great House Pilot in an imitator's suit didn't get a lucky hit on me, of course. However, death was part of the Legions. It was something I tried not to think much about. If I died unwed my land and title would go to my cousin.

But after months and months in a stinking FOB, it was nice to be aboard a true symbol of BlackSkyvian power. As a Nova Class Fleet Carrier, the Obsidian Corona carried two Wings of Ritual Plate. Granted, they were Fleet Pilots in Fleet Wings, each of only eight Squadrons, but combined with nearly two dozen Fujiwara torpedoes and two VTOL squadrons, the Obsidian Corona was a mobile force to impose our House's will upon our enemies.

With all those assets, the Damocles Light Carrier and the Mace Destroyer in escort were almost an afterthought. And there were ships in the Household Fleet that made the Obsidian Corona seem insignificant.

It was awkward to have some other Ritualista team strip me out of my armor, but the Fleet girls were competent enough and could do the repairs necessary on the countess' suit.

I also had the chance to get my hair back up into my preferred curls. However, when I got out of the head's wash station, I found that my countess had wandered off after getting a medical check. She was not in the galley, or at least the one a deck above and two frames aft of the RP bay we had been assigned as overflow.

However, the Islander girl was there having a snack. She was getting ready to play a game of chess. To her credit it would be a proper Diyu-style game. And she was a skilled enough aggressor in the skirmishing phase, and could use those extra points to get a favorable positioning on a full board in the second phase. Her picking a more knight and scouting heavy build was interesting, enough that GreyDawn rarely lost betting on her.

I did stop by to talk with her, but mostly to get a cup of posca and a pork-filled pita. As expected, the Fleet galley had better meat, garum, and herbs. Now that we had access to better food, I was slightly jealous that the Islander could easily eat her fill without any noticeable effect on her physique, save perhaps further buttressing her admittedly formidable assets. But, that envy was tempered by our new alliance. Now that we had come to an understanding; she was dutifully helping me capture my countess's heart. Even a commoner like her could understand how my victory would benefit us both, I would wed the duchess' youngest daughter, and the Islander would become her mistress. I hadn't been so crass as to mention the last part out loud, but it was clear to me that she understood her place. Ultimately, a countess's mistress was a very reasonable role for one such as her, and the Islander had a passing adequate mind. Both commoner and noble would have our lives improved by this.

Ultimately, I had to seek assistance from Prefect Quirinus before I found out where the Countess had hidden herself away. I suspected that GreyDawn and the Islander had known but opted not to tell me for some obscure reason. In the end, their obstinance, commendable though it might be, would not be enough to keep me from my quarry. After all, to hunt you must understand how the game thinks, and I understood the Countess. And so, I had known that she, being a stickler for the rules, would ensure that her commander knew where she was, and thus my success was assured.

I strode confidently past some Marinii fleet ratings and then a couple of Centurions from Helm, Navigation, and Meteorology on their way to their duty stations. While I could afford to not notice the scurrying of the lower ranks, I did make a point of slowing to brace and expose my neck in a salute to a naval Tribune. Her white fleet uniform bore the insignia of the Powerplant and Propulsion Section, and judging by her weary emotions, limp tail, blank expression, and perfunctory returning salute, the amber-haired Tribune had just come off of shift. Judging by her tired resignation and complete lack of any hint of anticipation, she was off to attend some other duty instead of going to her rack and sleeping.

After passing her, I went down several more frames until I got to Legionary Country. A Fleet Carrier was assigned a century of Legionaries for various security, search and rescue, shore patrol, and other roles. Being assigned to a Fleet airship was not a glamorous posting, but it did come with access to a good galley and superior bunking.

All at the cost of possibly going down with the ship if an enemy attack got through the Combat Air Patrol and other defenses. I stopped and saluted the two Legionaries on guard. They were of lower rank but I was not saluting them; I was saluting what they were guarding. The Armory inside Legionary Country had its own security. However, this was an RP carrier; a saboteur had a wide variety of various alchemical fuels, detonators, and munitions to pick from all over the ship.

"I'm here for Primus Centurion DiamondDust," I said, using a shortened name for the countess.

The two Legionaries on guard looked me over. I was in the bodysuit and harness that went under my Ritual Plate and had taken time to put rank pins and awards into my hair after I redid my curls. I was not sure why the Countess normally eschewed such awards. The pins were a convenient way to wear one's awards when out of uniform.

Or in this specific case, when only wearing the inner layer of flight armor. I suppose the countess could simply wear the Crown of the Preserver. Though why she had yet to commission one was beyond me.

The two imposing Legionaries were taller and older than me. One was a grenadier, which, more than the weapon she had slung, meant she was skilled in combat magic. Not at the level of a Legionary Flier, or even a mage, of course but she would be destructive.

The other had a standard Mark 36 battle rifle. Though the flashes on her uniform and her hair pins marked the lean woman as an Evocatus veteran on her second twenty-year term who had a few campaign ribbons also woven in her dark purple hair.

However, both did bow their horns and with crisp salutes let me into their compartment. I might be a Pilot and a noble, but I was an Legion Pilot.

Going through a small passageway with a few doors on either side, I entered a common room that was rather spacious. That was the advantage of the larger Fleet hulls. While weight was always a concern on an airship, vessels of this size had more volume to play with.

There were a few posterboard prints, mostly landscapes though a couple portraits were rather risque, mounted on the walls and a few skeletal tables and light chairs. One side of the room had a nook that worked as a kitchen and a bar. Though one end of the room had a few pillows, some thick carpeting, and a pair of Ondani shepherds. The two large fluffy grey and black dogs, in contrast to their normally energetic nature, were at rest. One was drowsing while the other had a slack tongue and was happily having its ears scratched.

With her own tail swishing, my countess was sitting on the floor between both of the dogs.

I paused and watched her for a few moments. I had known her for years and the times she had let her guard down were rare and precious. Even before her ennobling, she tried to hold herself to strict standards of comportment. Her emotional control might not have been as skilled as she thought, but she made an attempt.

I will admit at first I thought she was putting on airs and aspiring above her station, but the countess has proved me wrong in that regard.

"Yes, LoveBlood?" she asked before turning to look at me.

One of the big dogs woke up and shifted its muzzle closer to her and rolled to the side.

"I wondered where you had gone."

"The squadron's on stand-down," she stated. "We'll be debriefed soon enough."

I stepped closer. "And you decided to come here?"

"I was not hungry, and this way the inspection team's dog handlers can go to the galley and get some food."

Keeping in a frown, I nodded. There was no reason that Legion working dogs would not be allowed in the galley. And that there were only two of the four dogs that had helped inspect the enemy freighter put lie to her statement. But I would let her have a face-saving white lie. "How kind of you. Such a burden to spend time with such handsome animals."

On the upside, she had decided to spend time with dogs instead of some of the ship's cats. The felines were perfectly fine creatures and skilled at their jobs, but I appreciated the directness of dogs. They were also bigger. Though the working cats some legionary scout units used were elegant, and large enough animals.

Tauria smiled and scratched both dogs on the neck.

I circled around so she wouldn't need to crane her neck. We were not alone with the dogs - there were a few legionaries sitting around a table with raised edges, apparently playing a dice game. For common legionaries, they were admirably skilled at containing their emotions; to my senses, they felt almost flat. One of their little quartet was a Drow and smelled male. That was quite odd - an airborne posting was unusual for someone without wings.

I supposed the Auxilia have some useful skills to justify his place here, instead of down in the mud of some jungle or another. The markings on his uniform indicated he was a combat engineer, which also seemed like an odd specialty for an airborne posting. Still strange specialties and muted emotions or not, they weren't any concern of mine.

After all, both myself and the Countess outranked them, militarily and socially.

"Are you worried about the debrief?"

"Why should I be? Our squadron's casualties were light. Everyone should be back on duty soon," the countess stiffly stated.

"Our squadron was lucky," I allowed. The other squadrons had heavier losses. Though the enemy...

I was unsure. If our performance had displeased the countess she would have made it known. For the moment, I was at a loss as to why she had... sequestered herself. She had taken more damage but it was to ensure GreyDawn could fire her last Lance. In the cold calculus of combat it was a sensible sacrifice.

The blonde gave me a weary look that for a moment made it hard to believe she was a year younger than me. Maybe that was why the quartet of dice playing Legionaries suddenly stank of pity, their emotional muting cracking just a bit. They did not understand the duties that fell upon their social superiors.

I gave a haughty sniff as I pointedly turned away from the Legionaries; we were not some savage broodlings, dominated and drugged to the horns and used as shock fodder. We were young, yes, but we were highly trained cadets given special dispensation for active combat, as a sign of the Imperatrix's personal trust in us.

"I do have some good news," I announced. "Reinforcements have arrived; you really should see it."

"Why?"

My tail swished. "It'll be a good surprise." Seeing the countess here having.... time to herself was trying, but she did have emotions and limits.

"A surprise?" Tauria sighed.

"I suppose it's less... tangible than playing with dogs," I knelt down and let one sniff my hand.

"I like puppies."

I patted the Ondani shepherd who eyed me curiously. "They're bigger than you."

"Puppy," she repeated.

"I can't argue with that," I admitted, noting how stern her expression was. "Is everything alright?"

"Our squadron's injuries were light, and my Flight came off without any casualties. We took out a force or Trosic regulars that outnumbered us three-to-one," she stated.

I felt she was holding back. For her that was normal. "But are you okay? Maybe you can ask the medico for a draught of laudanum?"

The countess stared at me.

"It's not recreational," I huffed. "If it's from a doctor, it's medicinal."

Tail stiff, her expression hardened.

"I'm not suggesting you drip it over a cube of Yomi sugar into some absinthe," I defended.

"Oh? Pixie too weak, you want a full hallucinogen? Why not ask for some Vualian Marching powder to dust the rim of the glass," she dryly remarked.

"Um..."

"I am aware of the recipes Mercy and her wingwoman were swapping over our last R&R. Honestly, you have to learn that soldiers, especially Pilots, exaggerate. A drink like that could easily make you very sick. Really compared to all the other stuff, the wormwood has barely any effect."

I tried to not look bashful. "So... you won't need any?"

The blonde's gaze intensified. "I'll be fine."

I nodded. "But not now?"

She gave me a toothy smile. "You're being bold, Baroness."

I exhaled and stilled my tail. "And I'm having a quiet word with my commander." I lowered my voice and glanced at the Legionaries who were carefully preoccupied with their dice game. "It's just the two of us." There would be no undermining her authority with her Flight and our Squadron.

The countess slowly nodded.

"Tauria, I've known you longer than everyone else in the Squadron. Well... myself and Prefect Quirinus."

She stared at me.

"You've got people to talk to," I stated.

"I am aware of Legion counselors; I have had to talk to them before." The countess then pulled out a couple ship's biscuits and gave them to the dogs who started to happily crunch. "I'm sure that'll help me deal with my emotions," she dryly said.

"But Countess, emotions are for commoners," I loftily said.

She snorted.

I sat down on the other side of one of the dogs from her. "You're distant." I paused. "More distant than normal."

The countess's glare returned. Her gaze was very far for a moment. "I'm just struck by the waste of it all."

I gave her a sympathetic pulse. I knew that was one of her issues. She was an ardent supporter of House BlackSky, and put herself at risk in the Legions, but she also knew that the Legions, Fleet, and Auxilia existed to support and protect the House and Empire.

It was a question of resources: spend directly on the military or invest in growing industry, research, infrastructure, and arcana. Making the Empire more prosperous would allow for more spending for the military and more capability could be built. As the countess explained, it was the classic short term versus medium term versus long term investment issue.

Running a barony, or a county, had similar concerns, if on a much smaller scale. The last correspondence I had with the seneschal I appointed to run my barony while I was deployed, and under age, indicated things were doing well enough. It was hard being a noble without much in the way of family. There was my cousin Lady LavenderFang, but she was even younger than I was.

"I guess the Trosic Armada did take a lot of casualties to try, and fail, at sinking their own illicit freighter." I patted the dog who seemed to be eyeing me a bit less suspiciously.

The tip of Tauria's tail curled.

"It's not that?" I tilted my head.

"Not exactly," Tauria looked down. "Your birthday is in three weeks." It was not a question, the countess had memorized a lot of information about those in the squadron, especially the Pilots, and Ritualista, under her command.

"Yeah?" I was looking forward to my fifteenth birthday. Granted, I doubted we could get away with a weekend pass to somewhere nice, not with us having that beach trip a month ago. And the countess was willing to suffer a birthday at a jungle posting. It was the least we could sacrifice for the House.

My family had sacrificed much: both my mothers and my older sister. Despite all that, the Barony of Lilla was prosperous and well-enough run. It had population and resources and was near good trade borders. Without me... well LavenderFang would grow with time.

The countess sighed. "Our situation is abnormal."

I shrugged. I had been a cadet and been alone since I was twelve and the countess was only a year younger than me. My jealousy of Tauria had turned into admiration.

Her parents had also died for House and Empire. And if a commoner like her could become a noble and run a Flight and a county then I had no room to complain about the obligations of station. If I had to give up the independence of Barony Lilla by making it part of the Duchy of Argenia then I would take that.

I would simply have to make sure that one of my broodlings, sired with my countess of course, was appointed to take my family's Barony, and her line would continue to hold it. In a way I envied the Islander Girl's simplicity. She just had to keep loyalty to the House, Empire, Legions, and the countess. She served diligently and would be rewarded for it.

"We are very good Pilots," I stated.

I could have abdicated and simply been another fantastic ace Pilot. But I would not willingly place such a burden on my little cousin, nor would I risk my barony's subjects being put under someone who was not ready. There was only so much even the most competent a seneschal could mitigate before things started to slip.

"That Baptiste Pilot wasn't." Tauria's voice was quiet as she petted the dogs.

"Which one?"

The Countess exhaled. "At the end, when the rest of the scratch squadron sent to take us had been whittled down to a Flight, she wouldn't surrender. The others made the sensible choice, but not her. Maybe it's because we had killed the rest of her Flight, but instead of surrender, she chose to dive straight into the sea."

I tilted my head. "And?"

The blonde's pout grew. "If she had surrendered, she could have waited until the next prisoner exchange. Such a waste."

I nodded. "Yes, Grand Admiral Trosier did spend a lot getting her trained up, and if she was young she could not have spent much time on missions to recoup that value. Where if she surrendered eventually she would be repatriated and maybe could spend her time and her life in a more useful way for the Armada."

The countess snorted. "Close enough."

I frowned. There was more to life than military service, at least for us. House Trosier was nowhere near as civilized as we were.

"I do have something you might like," I offered.

The countess eyed me. "Did you bring food? Or coffee"

I kept in my frustration. I should have gotten something for her when I was talking to the Islander girl. And she just said she was not hungry.

"We can get that on the way to an observation deck."

The countess tilted her head; her errant blonde bangs bouncing about.

"A Celestial Class arrived," I said triumphantly. The largest class of airship in the Household Fleet was a sight to see.

The Countess seemed appropriately impressed or at least incredulous. "Is..."

I laughed. "No, it's not the Vault of the Heavens. The Imperatrix isn't here or at least her personal flagship hasn't arrived. Interestingly, it's the Lunar Firmament from the Third Fleet."

"Interesting," the Countess flatly said, as she went back to petting the dogs.

"It is." I rallied. "The Celestial Spheres, being detached to Vordurium, has more experience with heavy naval transport and recovery. Maybe it's on some other mission, or under a bit or minor refit. Last I heard, it was on active duty, but these are maintenance-intensive airships. And thus the Firmament teleported down from the quick reaction fleet up on Lantia."

"Wait? What exactly is the Firmament here for?" she seemed to be intrigued.

I popped to my feet. "I can tell you, but that would spoil the surprise."

The countess rolled her shoulders and fluffed her wings. Her feathers were somewhat exotic, but their color combined with her blonde hair and white horns was what gave her a dangerously angelic look.

"You can stay here. It's not like a chance to see a Celestial is all that unlikely." I glanced over. The Legionaries playing dice were hardly the only people I had seen who were off duty and seemed disinterested.

The countess tapped her chin. She looked delicate, with a classic Florentine style, if heavenly, beauty but that was contrasted, no it complemented, her iron will and those sapphire eyes. I wondered if our daughters would have feathers.

"I guess that explains why a fleet carrier of all things was sent in. Taking out a Celestial would be a major blow to our heavy lift capacity," she said.

I nodded. "Not to mention our ability to deploy a whole Legion with one airship."

Between my wings down to the base of my tail chilled as the Countess' cold attention focused on me. "That is the least noteworthy capability of that class. We have many airships that, collectively, can deliver a Legion but few with such an extreme carrying capacity."

"Well, it's not here to deliver a Legion," I said as I quickly stood up.

The countess gave a chill smile. "Oh? Now, you have my attention."

"I can show you!" I assured as my tail swished behind me.

Standing up, she patted the dogs.

` "Who shall watch them?" I asked, spotting a flaw in my plan. The two shepherds looked up at me with perked up ears. They were very well-tempered dogs. That the countess liked dogs did give me some ideas.

"Optio Claudius!" the Countess barked out.

One of the Legionaries looked up from the dice game. She had braided silver hair and looked to be a designated markswoman. "Yes, Primus!"

"Can you watch the dogs of the rest of your Contubernium?"

She relaxed a bit. "Of course, Primus."

The countess spread her hands to me.

She must have read my expression and the unease I was broadcasting.

"Come now, I was watching these good boys so the Optio could concentrate on her game."

I simply nodded along.

"Lead the way, LoveBlood." Giving the dogs a last pat and a set of treats, the countess headed to the main passageway.

"It's not long, just a few frames forward of here," I explained.

"You're familiar with the layout of the Nova Class?"

I tried not to flush at her approval. "I have a basic familiarity with the Fides Fleet size hull that the Novas are constructed from as well as the other basic airship hull sizes."

I could feel the countess's attention on my back between my wings. "Ah. Any concentration on ship types?"

"I'm working my way through all the classes!" I assured. "I'm just focusing on the troopships, Long Range Insertion craft, and RP carries."

I relaxed, feeling her approval. "Good. Keep it up."

Soon, we got to an alcove with ladders that went up and down. There was a hatch on the deck that could seal off to the level below us, and another hatch above us.

"After you," the countess said after waiting for the ladderway to clear. "It is commendable for you to have put in the effort to study such things."

I shrugged and went down. "Most of our airships have a similar overall layout."

"I am aware," I could feel her amusement. "An Embarkation Deck is vital for any Fleet Airship. Where else will you have space for various VTOL, RP, Torpedo, cargo and vehicles to be landed, stored, and launched?" the Countess asked.

I flushed a little bit once we reached the Embarkation Deck. "Yes, but that means that the main deck above this one has to have everything else: all the powerplant, engineering, crew berths, galleys, control, storage of consumables for the airship."

"This isn't an exam, Baroness," the blonde chuckled.

My tail froze. "Of course... but still. Larger airships, like this one, have another deck higher up with yet more berthing and storage. Part of my studies were to find out which airship classes had large enough trim ballast tanks that they could double as..."

The countess let me trail off awkwardly. "Double as?"

"Well... swimming pools," I admitted. "They have to be set up as them, and lack size. There's also saunas and the like."

She chuckled. "Recreation is important, especially for long-duration missions. Doubly so when considering Fleet sensibilities. And I have seen the moral boosting value of swimming."

I tittered at that.

"And above?" the countess asked with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"It's an airship." I dryly said.

"Pretend this is an exam," she stated evenly.

I exhaled. "Well, further up, are the lifting sections and structural frames. That's where the gasbags, Teleportation Runes, warding projectors, dorsal point defenses, many of the propulsion pods, various power trunking conduits and damage control systems are all placed. There's even a dorsal observation deck, but it's about 50 yards above us."

She tsked at me. "You did not fancy a dozen story hike?"

"I did not want to waste too much of your time?" I offered. "Still, there's an irony that we're in an airship, especially a Ritual Plate carrier, and we can't fly inside."

The countess sighed as she followed behind me. "Those would be some very wide passageways to fly in."

I nodded. "I mean, yes..."

"What did you learn? Beyond the basic summary?"

"If something goes wrong up here or an airship gets hit then Damage Control would be an all-hands affair. Fleet Doctrine is well set up and drilled but there's a point where it switches from containment and repair to a delaying action to allow for evacuation." I glanced down at the deck.

The compartment we were in was starboard amidships. It was a storage and standing area with pass-throughs that linked up the VTOL hangar to the aft and the starboard RP Bays forward.

She looked out onto the Well Deck that was inboard on the centerline. The cavernous opening gaped with the Guardia Sea visible thousands of feet below us. In the roof of the Well Deck were a series of overhead cranes that allowed for small airships and large VTOLs to dock and also allowed for the loading and unloading of cargo.

"You raise a good point. Each Household Fleet ship has a layered defense which comes at an expense in power, warding projectors, RP Combat Air Patrol, and escort airships. It all increases survivability. And yet if a hit gets through... I mean that Alecton Howe Class cruiser weathered a lot more damage than one of our airships could."

I nodded. "That's why Fleet Doctrine is to use standoff capability as much as possible."

"And yet precious tonnage is spent on those," the Countess gestured to the overhead cranes. There were a variety of types and capacities. "Not the docking fixtures for airships and heavy VTOLs but the ones that can lower cargo. A bit of a risk, no?

I knew despite her assurances, the countess was still testing me. She was challenging like that. My tail swished, I would not let her down.

"Yes, in a combat zone there are many problems with hovering an airship, lack of supplemental dynamic lift and making a large, relatively slow-moving airship into a low altitude and non-moving target are two biggest. One can use the Well Deck to lob supplies via guided parachute with a bit less risk. But this capacity is mostly for loading and unloading at secure locations, especially bases."

She smiled. "We'll make a logistics Tribune out of you yet, LoveBlood. Please continue. Why not just land an airship at a base?"

I gave my own, somewhat forced, smile. "Sometimes landing is prudent, especially for a long-term docking and a maintenance check. But for a quick loading or unloading, it's less time-consuming to hover near the surface, with or without guide cables. And using the cranes has a greater throughput than using workhorse Umbra Medium VTOLs to ferry supplies."

"Which is the common use for a combat cargo transport?" she asked.

"Yes, the Umbra is useful in that role. It keeps the Motherships safer and it is easier for us Pilots to escort a group of dropships. And... " My tail stilled.

"And?"

"And in your words... both us and medium VTOLs are 'more numerous and less labor-hour and resource-intensive assets'. We're more expendable than a Fleet Airship."

The countess laughed. "Good! Now you understand how logistics is not some dry and dusty subject, it informs our doctrine, strategy, and tactics. And how it ends up with us being sent on risky missions."

I nodded to her. "Still, it does contribute to how Legionaries see Fleet officers," I quietly said as we walked down the compartment.

The countess shook her head at the rivalry between the Houses' two dominant service branches. We went aft and inwards to a set of stairs that went down below the Embarkation Deck. "It is a factor. Though it also can influence how Fleet Pilots see their superiors," she noted in a low voice.

We had arrived at one of the ventral Observation Decks. The platform was only half a deck lower, but the reinforced windows that were angled up from the deck gave a panoramic view. On each of the four sides of the platform were large caissons that held some of the landing jacks.

"What do you know about the mechanisms of landing an airship of this size?" the countess asked.

"I know it's a very carefully done affair that required coordinating hundreds of air spirits and propulsion systems, retracting the airship's ventral aft fins, many of the lower propulsion pods, and extending dozens of landing jacks to take the weight of the airship on the ground," I stated, looking at the reinforced caisson which contain the whole mechanism for extending the landing pads.

"That's a start," she admitted, giving me a somewhat approving look. "Perhaps we should make a study of it. It's fascinating given an airship normally has great control of its buoyancy. Other than major refits, even a landed airship will still retain a fair degree of lift."

I merely gave an agreeable nod and emotional pulse. Doubtless, the countess had already researched the subject looking for flaws in our doctrine, things an enemy could exploit. If not for her skills as a Pilot and aggressive command style, she would be perfect as some dusty researcher in the capital's War College.

The Observation Deck was surprisingly open. I would have expected more people would be enjoying the view.

The atmosphere was fairly quiet on the platform, as the couple Fleet ratings on observation duty gave gimlet looks to any of the other crewwomen who got a bit too loud. The observers were using various binoculars and scopes and had a direct connection to local Flight Ops and the airship's defensive coordinators.

Their main role was to serve as a backup for the Obsidian Corona's scrying systems and to give a live visual confirmation of what was going on around the airship. This was most acute on the observer who was facing aft, quietly giving range readings on a VTOL that was approaching from the stern.

I noted that while the other guests were focused on... well the reason we were here, the countess's attention was on the approaching Umbra and did a scan of the sky and water below us.

Her expression was controlled and her tail moved slowly. For a moment I wondered if it would have been the best to stay with her and the dogs.

After a moment, she turned starboard looked out at gargantuan construct hovering at a lower altitude.

"That is a big airship," the countess admitted, tail still, and a bit of grudging admiration in her voice.

"The largest and heaviest flying object on Diyu," I said with pride.

The Celestial Class was built along the lines of the larger airships in the Household Fleet. Multiple parallel hulls, three in this case, ventral Embarkation Deck, with a central Well Deck, large maneuvering fins, and propulsion pods in the aft.

It was just on a breathtaking scale. Part of its escort, a Mellona Medium Carrier, and a Maul Cruiser were in the vicinity and were, at a quarter the length, puny in comparison.

"It's not quite a white elephant," the countess grumbled, using one of those exotic turns of phrase she would occasionally lapse into. "In terms of expense..."

"There are only four Celestials in class."

The countess shrugged. "I suppose. And there are some things that only one of them can do. But it's just so many resources and value in one location. I mean compared to this ship.. "

I smirked at her implied question and took in the sight before us. "Two thirds of a mile long, the Lunar Firmament is two and a half times longer than the Obsidian Corona."

A couple weathergirls who had also been sightseeing looked over to us.

Preening a bit, I continued. "Using three larger lifting hulls instead of two smaller hulls, it has twice the width and height of this fleet carrier. In many ways, it's easier to think of a Celestial as less an airship and more a mobile garrison and base, given it has a footprint equivalent to... six... eight... city blocks? "

The countess bowed her horns to me.

Her approval was measured, but it was a start.

"It is still a lot of eggs in one basket." A bit of her melancholy at waste and loss crept back into her. I wondered if she would have felt better if I had been the one to kill that final enemy Pilot and saved the countess the trouble.

"Yes, but that has some advantages of scale. That frankly ridiculous size allows for a truly massive airship that has over eight times the gross lift capacity of this fleet carrier."

I pointed to the Alecton Howe class missile cruiser that was steaming on the sea as part of the surface ship compliment. The fires had been put out and the ugly column of black smoke had dwindled to wisps. "The Lunar Firmament outweighs that vessel by a couple thousand tons."

"It's also several times larger," the countess noted. "And a much bigger target. A much more expensive and valuable target."

"But more mobile. And while much of that mass goes structural weight, power, propulsion, crew and crew facilities, fuel, water, provisions, a Celestial has as many RP as the airship we're on, three times as many Torpedoes, plus a Torpedo Bomber squadron."

I gave a fanged smile. "And with enough left-over capacity to move over four thousand tons of supplies. These ships act as mobile depots and with a Teleport Gateway can function as a continually replenished forward staging area."

The countess shook her head. "Four Bacchus Class heavy cargo ships have the same capacity and are far cheaper. Or use two with Atlas Lift Packages. Not to mention, the Fleet has over a hundred Bacchuses. Everything has a trade-off, Baroness. There is no perfect solution. What is the real value of a Celestial? Where does it fit in the Fleet?"

I tried not to fret. "The ventral Well Deck is large enough to act as a mobile dry-dock for any airship smaller than this fleet carrier? A Celestial can also move all but the largest of ships in the Fleet's naval assets such as a submarine pack or transport a Jarngreipr frigate or any other large and oversized bit of equipment. Which gives a high-speed strategic lift capability for transport on Diyu or off-world."

"And cases such as this?" the countess inquired as she looked closer. She glanced over to one of the observers and I could see her ponder on asking for a set of binoculars.

"The Firmament is at a quite low altitude and speed isn't it?"

The countess frowned. "And there are a lot of VTOLs and a few Mulberries doing work right under it." She blinked. "I can't quite make out the flags but... I think there are divers in the water, maybe an AngelShark mini-submarine."

The two Tempestarii tittered. "We're taking a Trosic submarine!"

My tail flicked. The surprise was ruined.

She exhaled. "Bold move. Interesting that the Primus Anchorage had a lifting gantry ready to go."

"Is it?" I put on a coy smirk. "The Celestial has extra heavy lift capacity and from the moon of Lantia can appear anywhere on Diyu. That seems to be an ideal place to store various underwater recovery assets. I did say Voduri was the main place, but 3rd Fleet should have been my next guess. "

Tail swishing, she bowed her horns to me. "Very true. And with a sunk submarine... The coastal waters are fairly shallow here. Yes, there's an intelligence operation to conduct. Good thing we're already on stand-down."

"And maybe a rescue operation?" I asked.

The countess shrugged. "A Murat class pocket submarine carrier has a crew of?"

I blinked as my tail flicked. "About sixty, plus another fifty Ritualista for Demi-Wing of Ritual Plate. Call it a hundred fifty?"

"Three Light Squadrons of nine Baptistes strike suits each escorted by A Squadron of Three Heavy Flights of five Rochefort air superiority each; a standard Trosic Strike Escadron of forty-two RP," The countess absently corrected.

"I know that! I was just fighting them." I huffed. "As a unit made up of multiple squadrons of distinct RP suits, our Demi-Wing is the closest to their Escadron in size and role."

A Demi-Wing could range from four Squadrons to six Squadrons depending on if one was using a Fleet or Legion size of Wing. In terms of overall capacity, the Murat was between one of our light and medium RP carriers, ignoring that our RP carriers were airships and the Murat was a submersible ship.

She bowed her horns to me in apology.

"Well, I doubt any pilots went down with the ship." Her expression warmed. "Don't be too nervous. Our intelligence is an estimate, as it's a newer class. Having one to take apart would be a boon. Especially since one of their Murats got away and that missile u-boat was reduced to small bits of wreckage. I did hear these little subs are quieter than a typical Trosic sub."

I snorted. The Murat was maybe fifty percent heavier than a Wobbegong class, the larger of our House's two main submarine classes. "Fine. House Trosier's submarines are not bad, but they are not as stealthy as ours."

"Being smaller allows for that. And, with a smaller sub fleet, we can afford more stealth systems per boat."

"And the Torsic Armada's new, and smaller classes, were a move in that direction. Still... they have only one Ritualista per RP plus what ten extra? So few maintainers really does limit their operational capability."

"Based on our experience, yes," the countess agreed. "Our thinking is that the decreased hull size would be detrimental to a submarine that has Ritual Plate as its primary offensive weapon. And we have an even higher ratio of Ritualista to Pilots on our subs."

"Our own submarines are the opposite; we use Torpedoes, both the big Fujiwara aerial torpedoes and aquatic Kaitabha torpedoes as our primary weapons while the RP complement is smaller and supplemental." I frowned. Serving on a submarine would be challenging. Beyond the cramped conditions and limited maintenance, launching and recovery were fraught for a variety of reasons. It was galling to admit, but House Trosier might have more experience and capability with amphibious RP launch and recovery.

"Their operational tempo must suffer," I added.

"House Trosier's airship fleet is far smaller than ours and built around a patrol and small-scale air assault. They don't have the scale of airborne carriers we do. And their own large seaborne carriers are formidable but require extensive protection."

"And we can still sink them with a Telephe or Torpedo strike," I smirked.

"Possibly," the countess allowed before going back to the Celestial Class. "It seems the Murat is intended as a relatively inexpensive way to get a respectable strike package near enough to a target, launch said strike, make an attack run then slip away and attack later. I don't think they intend to have them do round the clock missions. That would expose them too much. Meanwhile, our airships require the capability to have a persistent RP defense which requires constant use, which increases the number of Pilots, suits, and Ritualista."

"They sank a Mulberry and damaged that Alecton cruiser but at the cost of, what, half their Pilots and a submarine?"

The countess shrugged. "If that Howe were not here this would be a different story. Or if they just focused on the Howe they could have sunk it. Still it's not a great exchange. There's also the flaw with any RP strike mission. Unless your escorts defeat the target's air assets or you break contact you'll bring the enemy back to your Mothership."

Her face twisted into a frown. "Though I suppose a full Escadron is still cheaper than a Murat."

"They'll learn from it," I spat. "House Trosier hates Alecto enough. I wonder if that's why we're recovering that submarine and pulling off the crew."

"As for the rescue operation, that's what our AngelShark mini-subs are for. And if anyone got out using the escape trunks. It's a bit risky at that depth, but if they have the right hydromancers they could mitigate things." She shook her head.

"It is a waste," I stated, taking a bit to relish the approval from the countess.

In contrast to her feelings, the blonde gave me a sympathetic look as if she did not fully believe me. "Even if you don't value them as thinking beings with intrinsic value, us trading them back to House Trosier can be a diplomatic token. Given, they fired on us and we sank some of their subs." She exhaled. "And nearly killed a wing of their pilots.

"This wasn't even the largest submarine that was sunk."

"No, but it's the one that has survivors on it."

"Who doubtless sabotaged everything of value we could learn."

She waved a hand. "Yes, yes, codebooks, communications systems, and critical artificer tools. They might even scuttle the whole sub, have the last officer blow a magazine and go down with the ship."

"It's a risk," I soberly stated. "Vengeful Trosic curs. They fight for dominion while we fight for honor."

I felt her incredulity spike before she got herself under control. "Each of us fights for what she lacks the most," the countess murmured.

I gave her an inquiring but respectful look and emotional pulse.

"Ah, LoveBlood, an officer of the Armada is many things but she sees herself as upholding the will, the word, of her Grand Admiral. Before we rescued the crew, we would make a deal for the captain, or the senior surviving officer's parole. If she breaks that parole by scuttling her boat?"

I gasped. "They could do such a base thing?"

"Perhaps, especially if a Minor House were trying to take their ship. That would be an insult to their pride. And by letting them destroy any truly sensitive documents, we let them save face." The countess shook her head. "The only thing worse than these games of polite fiction atop a bloody-handed war is a war without them."

My tail curled in curiosity. The countess was a student of history, and not just that of Diyu.

"Do you think that will work? Letting House Trosier keep some of their honor?" I nearly spat out the last word.

"Possibly, or maybe these were the first shots of a Fourth Great House War." She knelt down. "I almost want to sign out my suit and try to get part of a patrol that'd be closer. But it's still being patched up. Optio Gibbs will insist on inspecting the Fleet Ritualista's work."

"You won't be able to get close; a Celestial has a pretty large restricted airspace," I noted.

Tail curling, she nodded. "Ah, there goes the lifting gantry."

We watched with the others as a long crane-like structure with several pairs of grasping arms along its length lowered out of the bottom of the Lunar Firmament. It was about a thousand feet long and the size of a mobile drydock.

A cluster of Ritual Plate was around it at a safe distance, helping guide it to the cleared patch of water. Slowly, inexorably, it sank beneath the waves

"The stabilization required to keep the crane, cabling, and airship from drifting off target." The countess shook her head, but I could feel her gratitude to me.

I quirked a smile. The strangest things impressed her. But the important part was that I had found one, and got to experience it with her. I had learned much from my time with the countess, lessons that would prove well for our future together.


++++++

I stepped outside into the hot, bright light and wished I had my hat on. I know the floppy sun-hat was seen by many of my squadron as a silly affectation, but it was practical. Still, I was a Volantes Prefect Centurion in command of an elite squadron and I did have to project the proper values of an Imperial Legion senior Centurion.

This was especially true for the two youngest members of my squadron. I had managed to train those nobles from cadets to combat Legionary Fliers and had seen them handle a hitch in a somewhat unpleasant posting. Though there were worse places to be than a FOB in some Crocelli jungle.

But they would learn that. Right now, I would let them enjoy being back on a well-provisioned base. Though, this collection of barracks, bunkers, hangars, runways, and tarmacs was not exactly a scenic place. It did have enough facilities, and a local town, that our baroness could have a belated birthday celebration. Which would double as the squadron's "going home" party.

I was a supporter of the cadet program. It was a great way to grow talent and build a cadre of Pilots who would have more training time that would serve them well when they were old enough for active duty. It was useful when, for whatever reason, the Pilot Corps found a need to expand or had a shortage of Flight Leaders.

However, I had opinions on the subject of letting such cadets join active service at a younger age. As a general matter, it undercut the primary aims of the cadet program, giving pilots more experience, and cut into the supply of new Pilots. Used en masse, it was like eating one's seed corn. Yes if one had to, one may avoid immediate starvation, but at the cost of the next year's crop.

And yet, giving a bare handful of cadets special dispensation to an early active posting would not make a statistical difference. The Imperial Legions needed about six hundred new Pilots every year. With that much grist for the mill, what did it matter if a couple cadets were dropped in early?

While my approval was not required, the brass horns did talk to me about the Countess and the Baroness. The propaganda value of her exploits aside, including her ennoblement, I could have stopped all this with a negative review on their performance.

I paused to glance up as a couple VTOLs came in and went to slow and land. I was approaching a cluster of buildings that served as an arcade. There were a few shops, a Legion and Fleet bank, a few proper restaurants, and even a couple guild-bonded brothels.

But I had trained DiamondDust. I might not know what she was capable of, but I had a better idea than anyone else. Which was why I made sure she was under my command.

I will not deny that there were other considerations. Being adopted by a duchess, one who was a patron of many pilots and had her own mercenary squadron and other interests meant I have to consider other issues when dealing with young DiamondDust. It was not without upside. Her innovative interpretation of regulations and connections meant I was able to upgrade my Squadron from half Polydora suits to all Polyxo.

Some amount of court politics was inevitable in the Legions, but it was a bit more acute among Ritual Plate Pilots. Part of it was that it was a high status position, both in rank, the lowest Pilot was a Centurion, and social status. There was a reason cadets were disproportionately nobles or had noble patrons.

The countess was a prime, if exceptional example, of how patronage, skill and glory could turn into lands and a title. Doors had been opened to her. Granted, much of that was due to her drive and ability, but being a countess, with all that entailed, and a bearer of the Preserver Crown gave her that extra push. Additionally, that DiamondDust had gotten the attention of multiple Librarians, and a Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance Officer gave her yet more avenues of networking.

Invidia was a snake, but in a way that was more honest than the Librarians who used masks of perky smiles. Adjusting the leather valise, I exhaled. That was not my concern. I had done my best to mentor Primus DiamondDust, I had a lot of help, and I felt the results were better than I feared. Though now, she was going off to Silvana where she could make yet more connections.

I did wonder if the assignments of my squadron, mostly Minor Houses south of Diyu, was in part to keep DiamondDust in active, respectable, but somewhat obscure postings. Helping protect a series of mines and a refinery complex to ensure that Standard Alchemical Products and Alecton Duraluminum had a steady supply of rare metals critical for the production of military enchantments was important but it was not something that would make you a darling in the capital.

I smiled. Well, from my experiences in Silvana, the quiet but important salons and gentlewoman's clubs would find our efforts here to be very useful. So-called Sword Nobles, mistresses of industry, and officers who understood logistics were the reason we were out here after all.

As I got closer, the smell of fruitwood and charcoal became more prominent. It was a pleasant contrast from the alchemical stink that was around most air bases. We had been spending more and more time here as my Squadron's term was ending.

We did periodically return to FOB EmeraldInferno, especially to give follow-up training to the Squadron that had replaced mine. They were skilled enough, and the lesson plan, complete with intel briefings, procedural updates, and training scenarios, DiamondDust had come up with should hold them in good stead.

My subordinate even had the good grace to restrain her prideful reaction when I informed her that the in-theater Volantes Tribune had agreed to propagate her training supplement to all the Legion Pilots under her.

It was another ribbon in her hair. And I was relieved that a nine-month slog of a jungle posting, including the mess last month when a simple merchantman interdiction turned into open combat with Trosic Ritual Plate, had not eroded Primus DiamondDust's adherence to proper procedure.

She had performed her usual best in splintering the enemy attack and, along with Mercy's Flight, stripping the strike force of escorts, though not without some trauma accumulation.

I stepped up to what was a reasonable simulacrum of a cafe. The chairs and tables were all mismatched and the sliding doors that linked the interior to the patio section were obviously reclaimed from another building. But the smell of coffee, of frying meat, a smokehouse, and pastries was welcoming. There was a metal drum oil smoker to the side of the building merrily puffing out clouds of fragrant smoke. Centurion Shadow was right, DiamondDust was here, but she was not alone.

The diminutive Pilot perched on a metal chair that despite being the smallest in the house was too large for her. In contrast, her companion's chair, the largest there in the ramshackle cafe, was too small for the massive shaggy-pelted Forest Person wedged between the armrests.

Ah, so she was saying her goodbyes to the Auxilia Scout she had befriended. I waited at a respectful distance as it seemed they were wrapping up. I wondered if it was a personal matter or something that dealt with how the Auxilia, Lares I believe he was named, lived within DiamondDust's county.

It was good that she was balancing the responsibilities of her stations. I was bestowed an honor name for gallantry, I was not burdened with any lands to administer, and that was something I was glad for. While my responsibilities to the House have increased, I was not eager to get further involved in the games of nobility.

However, I would not spurn the advantages such connections would bring. DiamondDust's wrangling and trading did upgrade my squadron. And those Polyxo suits were a considerable factor for me losing as few Pilots as I did in this posting. Her help with the squadron's training in general and the performance of Flight 3 in particular were also great benefits.

I would miss them.

Lares had stood up and I kept my surprise in as they shook hands. Physical contact, even for a farewell denoted a closeness that was... unexpected. Yes, DiamondDust was a terrifying little thing, but she was always within the letter of regulations. Moreso this was another bit of evidence that she did have emotions and could get close to people. That was reassuring; it was rare but there were some among our kind utterly without empathy. Many could function well enough in a combat role. That is until they did not.

She had bonded well with the other members of her Flight. That was not surprising. She had been a cadet with, and in the same ballet troupe as, the baroness. They had grown comfortable over time, and even the young Pilot from Amber Island did little to derail that. Even GreyDawn, an obviously sober, experienced voice, had helped gel the Flight into an effective formation. Though she did seem amused by the antics of the young noble Pilots. I know GreyDawn had made a fair amount of coin wagering on that and other actions.

Including the various schemes that DiamondDust came up with.

Maybe this was part of one of the countess's business plans. She had made mention of mushroom farming, fisheries, and other novel ways to get some extra business for her county. I did note a bit of trepidation on the Forest Person's part.

It was amusing; he towered over her and could effortlessly pick the little blonde demon up, and yet he was utterly respectful of her, and as cautious as if she were live ordnance. No... as if she were old munitions, improperly stored old munitions, that had started to sweat-out the more evocation-based alchemical components and had acids start to eat the stabilizers.

I could not fault him for his caution. But I still had a tiny smile as he gave a head bow to her, which she returned and then walked away, just slow enough to make it look like he was not fleeing her.

I gave the young countess a few moments to collect herself before I approached

Her wings fluttered with a bit of shock when she noticed me, but she recovered her composure admirably. "Prefect Centurion Quirinus, what can I do for you?" she said as she got to her feet and saluted.

She wore the tropical variant of her dress blacks. The shorts did give some relief in the heat, though combined with the tall boots she wore and the long-sleeved tunic with cuffs only folded up to mid-forearm did have her match the regulations perfectly. On her short frame, it made the young pilot look faintly absurd and more like she was a still a cadet or wilderness camper dressed for a jamboree.

There was a reason many RP Pilots took to wearing a field jacket over their inner flight suit even in situations where it was technically against regulations. On the upside, DiamondDust was no martinet; at a FOB or other deployable position she would dress practically, citing regulations allowing for readiness status. However that meant other times she would dress up with full polish, pins, and ribbons.

It was to her advantage that the Crown of the Preserver only needed to be worn as a crown with the most formal of uniforms. Under most other cases the award could be worn as a choker clasp.

Keeping a sober face, I returned the salute. "Just a moment of your time," I said, before flagging down a waitress and asking for some coffee for myself. Despite just having had brunch, the meat from the smoker was tempting.

"Of course," DiamondDust said in a professional tone that was at odds with her youthfulness and diminutive size. "May I ask what this is about, Ma'am?

I put the valise on the ground and pulled out a slim portfolio. "We both know you have a future in the Legions."

Despite her calmly sipping her drink, DiamondDust's tail flicked about wildly. "I serve the House to the best of my abilities."

I dropped the portfolio in front of her. "This is an informal talk so there's no need for false modesty." The waitress came back and gave me a cup. I bowed my horns to her and drank some of the coffee. Unlike the countess, I was fine with the mid-grade stuff which in this case was some surplused Fleet Issue.

She exhaled. "What is this about?"

"An offer for your next posting." I pushed the portfolio to her .

There was the most tiny bit of hesitation before she opened it. Her eyes scanned the text of the memo and looked at the seals and despite her emotional self control I could feel... resignation. "The Imperial War College," she stated, with a thoughtful aspect.

I sipped the coffee. The brass-horns thought that was a good step before promotion, and I knew that the countess had a couple Legates very interested in her development even without her family's connections. "Read on."

DiamondDust flipped to the next pages and found more similar memos. "My whole Flight is being reassigned?"

"Temporary secondment to the capital's garrison forces, including your Ritualista."

The blonde closed the folder. "I see."

"Do you?"

She gave me a wry look that belied far more experience than she should have, even counting what she had seen in the last two years or so. "Aye, Prefect. When an entire Flight is sent to Silvana to attend the War College and is kept together it gives a strong implication."

I simply gave a small smile. A Flight Leader and her three Pilots could be readily promoted into a cadre of Squadron Commander and three Flight Leaders. Eight line Pilots added to that would make a Squadron. It would require a degree of training, but it was a way to bulk out a Flight into a Squadron.

"I do wonder about GreyDawn. She is a career Volantes Centurion. Will she accept a promotion to Primus Centurion?" DiamondDust opened the portfolio and flipped to a specific memo. "Ah."

"Indeed," I smiled. "What do you make of it?"

"As much as that development track suits GreyDawn's skillset, it does raise questions."

I motioned for her to continue.

"Visha and LoveBlood will make good Flight Leaders. And GreyDawn's temperament is suited to the Aquilifer senior Centurion track. However..."

Noting her use of nicknames and the bit of emotional uncertainty she was letting out, I drank some more coffee. "Yes?"

"First, this means I would need a third Flight Leader. Hypothetically, I'm not being presumptive enough to think I'll be promoted and given a squadron command after War College." The blonde gave a pensive drink.

"I said this was an informal meeting." I snorted. "And your input would be key in finding a third Primus who would fit into your command style."

DiamondDust bowed her horns to me. "Yes, Ma'am. The other part is from two aspects. Namely, a squadron is too small of a formation for a Signifer, let alone an Aquilifer. Specialized senior Legion Flier postings like that are attached to Wings, Demi-Wings at the smallest."

I gave an amiable nod but let the silence draw out.

"The other part is that these orders keep me in the 23rd Imperial Legion Air Group and include mentions of continuing training and coordination with 5th Squadron and successor formations."

I emptied my cup. "Quite so."

"Prefect Centurion, should I be congratulating you on your pending promotion?"

My tail swished. "That may be presumptive. However, if I am to make Tribune, I would want my Squadron Commanders to be of the highest caliber."

"Even a Demi-Wing would have four to six squadrons..." She tapped the portfolio. Any resistance or resignation to her new assignment evaporated in the contemplation of fitting-out a unit. "And a Legion Demi-wing is a flexible formation that can supplement a lot of Landing Operations."

"And you have shown the flexibility of an advanced multi-role squadron, especially in the right hands."

Her expression turned calculating. "I can see the mutual benefit. If we assume the promotions and assignments happen."

"If we assume that." I pulled up the corner of my mouth. There was a lot she was not stating. Such as her star rising meant that mine, as her mentor, could rise as well. Not that I was not without my own patrons and honors. I did have some trepidation. Squadron Command had a good amount of tactical authority but was not overly burdened with paperwork and politics. On the other wing, a Volantes Tribune was firmly a staff position under a Legion's Legate.

However the part she was, oh so politely, taking extra care not to state was that continuing to be my subordinate meant she would be both under my supervision and aegis. And that her inner circle was being retained to form the core of her own squadron while also expanding her base of support. Combat losses could affect that. Though a capital posting would be relatively safe.

If anything, it was more likely that I could be killed in action. Death was a part of being in the Imperial Legions. Hence, the dissemination of training skills and the promotion and encouragement of leadership talent. In war redundancies were vital. And while the Countess was a very skilled pilot and officer, that merely meant she was a more flexible cog in the House's war machine. It was simple pragmatism to extract the best value out of her talents.

DiamondDust sipped her drink. Nodding, she smiled, her blonde hair bobbing about. "It's a sensible plan. It is not like I could languish in an obscure posting, not with... everything." There might have been a ghost of a wistful tone in her voice.

I noted her trepidation. "Are you concerned about a rear echelon posting not being exciting enough?"

She snorted. "Unlike our baroness, I'm no war maniac; I can appreciate a boring billet."

I gave her an indulgent smile. She was covering up her.... trepidation with a stoic resolve.

DiamondDust shook her head. "Even if I were... wouldn't giving me training and more authority just encourage things?"

"Perhaps," I allowed. The War College would do more than just supplement her training; the instructors would evaluate her command capabilities. There was a chance they might not like what they found.

The blonde looked at her coffee and closed the portfolio. "At least I'm not being rushed."

I snorted. "You're still on track to be one of the youngest squadron commanders. Not counting battlefield promotions."

The countess gave a tired chuckle. "Well, the Legions do have me for no more than sixteen more years."

"And they're going to get the most out of it," I assured, not believing for a moment that the little blonde demoness would simply take an honorable discharge and walk away from all this.

End Chapter 15

Things are looking up for Tauria... right? She's getting a nice rear posting in the imperial capital. She should be happy.

Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

Special thanks to Readhead for the chapter title, it comes from Ensiferum's song One with the Sea, where the chorus and the overall lyrics are rather on point.

And we're allllmooooost at 500 watches. And I've got a couple things in the wings for that. Thanks to everyone who's read, commented, contributed omakes, art, and even just watched. I didn't think my niche little story would get this far, but I'm happy that you've all enjoyed it.

Update: I've been going through a revision project for this story and all preceding chapters have had some editing cleanup done to put them to a bit higher level of polish.
 
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