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

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Image: Tauria Suiting up 2 (Full Sequence)
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    • From PlayerError404 we have this wonderful sequence of Optio Gibbs helping Tauria into her Polxyo RP Suit.


    Step 1:


    Step 2:


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    Step 5:


    Whole Sequence:

    Full Size


    I really like this sequence as it shows the weight of a Ritual Plate suit and between Tauria's expressions and how the completed suit looks, I think it really shows a great setup of the concept.
     
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    • Image: Tauria and the 2 Vs dresscode misscommunciation.
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    • From ScittyKitty we have this great pic of Visha, VioletBlood, and Tauria ( It seems the 2 Vs by some means managed to get Tauria into one of her outfits from back when she and VioletBlood were in a ballet troupe.

    Or maybe it's a custom ballerina outfit. Either way the countess is not too pleased.


    Fullsize


    I've got some good news as well. Ch16 has been written (~15k words) and I'm going over it and having it be edited as we speak.
     
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    Chapter 16: Pride and Punishment
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    • 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 16: Pride and Punishment


    Silvana, the City of Trees, residence of the Imperatrix and the pulsing heart of BlackSkyvian culture and the arts. The House's largest city, and its greatest. The region, city and adjacent provinces are collectively garrisoned by a full Coetus Malleus of twenty legions, including Corpus Incursio Reliance. A garrison befitting homeport of First Home Fleet

    In Diyu, it is said: all railways lead to Silvana. A take on an older aphorism, but no less true for its derivative nature.

    Sitting astride the Phlegethon river, the city has considerable dockyards. From the riverine ports, barges laden with trade goods could easily access Lacus Superum, one of Diyu's two great interior lakes, and from there go to any other port on Diyu.

    Splayed indolently across eastern portion of the Romwell Alps, much of Silvana rests atop the carefully sculpted terraces lining the meandering river valley. Downstream of the Phlegethon, to the west, the land flattened out into now-drained alluvial plains. The flatlands were filled with vast stockyards, Fleet-ports with titanic hangars, sprawling rail yards, airship-fitting and fabrication plants, and various other manifestations of BlackSkyvian industry.

    Along with the great southern city of Vordurium and our biggest offworld city, Mursa Victrix, Silvana is one of the key economic, industrial, arcane, logistical, and military pillars House BlackSky stood upon.

    More personally relevant, it was also nearly ideal as a rear-echelon posting. Yes, the city was busy, and the press of that many people in a close area took some getting used to after my prolonged postings in the Diluvian jungle. However, besides the crowds, a Silvan posting also granted access to the city's plethora of restaurants, bookshops, and a multitude of other diversions. Furthermore, my assignment was absolutely plum. Between studying at the War College and leading my Flight in cadet evaluations and aggressor training, I would be able to sharpen my mind and my skills without any risk to live and limb beyond training accidents. The possibility of participation in the development of the next generation of general scrying upgrades even presented an opportunity to further distinguish myself away from the front lines.

    In short, Silvana was everything I had ever dreamed of in a military assignment.

    No matter the organization, I wanted to provide value, obtain job security, and advancement in status. Additionally, in a military organization I also wanted to minimize physical risk. My new assignment easily fulfilled all of those requirements, at least when taken at face value.

    Which brought me to my conundrum as I sat on an early fall day in a cafe sipping some coffee with a platter of nice nutmeg turnovers.

    The cafe was a favorite early morning spot of mine, a perfectly place to take a moment and watch the city wake up before going to the War College. Though, to be fair, few of the cities on Diyu ever truly went to sleep. Even Bovitar was large enough to have a considerable nocturnal population.

    Right now, I was having a midday nosh. Between the coffee and the various puff pastries, the fruit-filled turnovers were a delicious temptation; this was a nice place.

    This posting was indeed a welcome reprieve, but as Prefect Centurion, soon to be Tribune, Quirinus had cautioned, excelling here would merely bring me more status, responsibility, and physical risk.

    Looking through my paper, I sipped with a frown as my tail flicked.

    If I were to become a Prefect, in command of a squadron, all Piloting the always scarce advanced Multi-Role Ritual Plate suits, with said Pilots trained to the standard that Quirinus knew I was capable of... well, it did not take a great deal of imagination to see that a new Tribune would love to have a Squadron of such flexible, capable trouble-shooters.

    But that was in the future. I could, and would, prepare for that, but...

    I should also focus on the present. The international news was, as usual, a mix of obvious bluster and saber-rattling with talk of ominous alliances and mysterious trade negotiations in the background. Nothing of immediate interest, thankfully.

    I smiled when I saw Visha walking down the winding cobblestone street. She adroitly picked her way thought crowd of pedestrians, side-stepping the occasional raptor-pulled cart or gently chugging Sterling-engined delivery vehicle. Engine power or even equines were more common for heavier loads, but the feathered sauropods were useful for pulling something more select that required a more intelligent beast of burden. They filled a role similar to a dog pulling a cart, but with greater intelligence.

    I lifted my mug to her in a casual salute of greeting as she sauntered over to me. I scooted over so she could join me in the shade of one of the poplar trees that lined the side of the cafe's patio.

    A waitress came up as she sat down and with a knowing smile asked if Visha would have the regular.

    "You seem happy," Visha noted, sitting down as she nodded to the waitress, who scurried away without even bother to write down my partner's order.

    "My operations class had a war-game today. I got to play the Intel Tribune for the first scenario and the Logistics Tribune for the second scenario." My tail may have swished.

    "Both roles that play to your strong points," Visha said, smiling happily at me.

    "The instructor said as much." I knew it would be next to impossible to go from a Volantes specialty to something in the logistical branch but there were slots for Volantes Tribunes who were more on the logistics end of RP operations. Legionaries who were highly skilled in both roles were in demand. And my Logistics instructor seemed to also be impressed with me.

    Though knowing my luck, I was less likely to get a position as someone helping develop and implement component integration, and more likely to end up as a Volantes Tribune supporting a Corpus Incursio's Ritual Plate Air Groups.

    As I'd pondered - definitely not brooded no matter what VioletBlood had said - Visha's tea had arrived and she was now sipping it with evident enjoyment.

    "How was your morning?" I asked, trying to reignite the conversation.

    "I helped GreyDawn and our Ritualista check out the simulators," she brightly replied.

    "Are we good to go?"

    My wing woman's tail flicked. "We have nine that are fully operational. The bulk of the rest need some parts swapped out and spirits propitiated. The remaining two need a full workup and maybe replaced."

    "Has Gibbs looked at those?" I asked.

    "She thinks she can harvest the parts for one to get the other to work," Visha admitted.

    I drummed my fingers on the table. "What about the projection systems? Can we run a scenario?"

    Visha nodded. "And the Ritualista say we can get fourteen simulators operational in four days."

    Smiling, I nodded. "Good work. That will allow us to get some training."

    "Do you have a lesson plan in mind?"

    I gave a vicious smile.

    "Well... they do have to learn, and better to take lessons in the simulator than in battle."

    I gave an ironic smile. "And we are dealing with some hot-headed noble Pilots."

    Laughing, she gave a happy nod to the waitress, who had just returned again, this time dropping off a plate of rye toast with pear butter. Visha paused and took a couple bites. "So, the Feast of DarkStar is in two weeks."

    I looked out over the city. "Mother Clementia did mention there were a few ceremonies of note."

    "We are in the capital."

    I patted her hand. "Don't worry, I'm sure we can do something."

    "And VioletBlood?"

    "I'm sure she's got plans for me." I sighed then caught myself. "I mean I'm sure she'd arrange something entertaining enough. And she's invited you too."

    Visha shook her head. "That's not it but.... you're still worried about her?"

    "My birthday is coming up next month." I was still very young for a Pilot, but being one at fourteen was less of an aberration as being one at twelve.

    Her tail swishing, Visha finished the first piece of bread. "You think she'll get some extravagant gift?"

    I sighed. "LoveBlood does want to impress me. And she'd got a lot more access to luxury items and frivolities in the capital than she does in a FOB in the middle of some DarkStar-forsaken jungle.

    "You think she'll go too far?"

    "I wouldn't say that..." Visha ate some more of her lunch.

    I gave her a look. "What had she planed?"

    She looked bashful. "I don't know, but... she does want you to come over to our quarters."

    I gave a slow exhale. We were not lacking for accommodations. In addition to the Legionary dormitories for Centurions, my mother Clementia and my own reputation meant I could request placement in rent-free housing supplied by the Church. Luddy, my Duchess's friend, also had a residence in the capital and was more than willing to give me the run of the place, in light of what I had done for her

    All these options had, of course, their own sets of pros and cons. From proximity to the War College, and other faculties, to the various favors both spoken and unspoken required in lieu of rent, not to mention which coffee houses were nearby. However, I had ultimately taken the one option that allowed me to bring my whole Flight with me. I had done so hoping that it would allow me to circumvent anything that might cause jealousy between my two Vs.

    The four of us were currently staying at the "townhouse" my Duchess had in the city. The accommodations were quite comfortable; the baths while not palatial were very well-appointed. GreyDawn as a long-serving Legionary was not one to turn down a free cot, even if her staying there might have fed into rumors.

    The building had plenty of space for Duchess SilverFlight's daughters, and granddaughters to stay in when visiting the capital. At the moment, my Flight had the place nearly to ourselves. We also had pooled our housing stipends and used it to supplement our Ritualista's own stipends.

    Most of them were staying at a long-term hotel frequented by many of my Duchess's personal Pilots and their Ritualista when SilverFlight's mercenary squadron was in Silvana. Trading on my Duchess's name, I had secured a very reasonable rate, which was almost covered entirely by our combined stipends was ready enough to arrange.

    I might have paid out the balance. It was a prudent investment to ensure harmony among the women under my command.

    I finished my coffee. "And does the baroness request my presence at my convenience?"

    "Well, you have History of the Second Great House War in three hours, and VioletBlood has statistics class in four hours."

    "Probability," I corrected. "And she has rhetoric before that." The course load VioletBlood and Visha were taking was a bit less intensive than mine. Seminars were only a small part of what we were being evaluated on. GreyDawn also had her own lesson plan for her senior non-commanding Centurion track.

    "It can't be that bad then. If she's only got a couple hours, how involved could it be?" Visha offered as she ate the last bite of her meal.

    After flagging down our waitress, I paused. "That's a valid point. She can't spring some fancy event and whatever she wants to give me is almost certainly mother's house. It must be tickets to a spa or retreat. Nothing too substantial, at least"

    Visha shrugged.

    After I paid for our meals, we left the cafe and went down nearby alley that let out onto a tree-lined avenue, with tall trunks framing both sides of the broad street. Walking in the shade, Visha paused every now and again to indulge in a moment of window shopping. I coughed a bit after she spent a full minute peering at a leather clothier and accessories boutique.

    I eyed some of the items draped on velvet in the display window. At least her attention wasn't on the corsetry adorning the dressmaker's dummy.

    "Anything catch your eye?" I carefully asked.

    "You are teaching a new crop of cadets," Visha lightly noted.

    "I do have a reputation as a disciplinarian but not quite... that level," I shook my head at the implements on display. Though some of the saps and coshes were functionally appealing, others were just... excessive fripperies.

    "Maybe that's what LoveBlood is getting you," Visha said as we resumed walking.

    "I already have a vine-staff." I snorted. Corporal punishment was not exactly rare in the Imperial Legions. Not that I had been particularly shy about such corrections in my previous life either.

    We waited between some bollards for the street traffic to clear so we could cross the plaza..

    "What if she's getting you something more fun?" Visha teased while we crossed over to the plaza.

    "Visha!" I cried as my tail went straight at the implication.

    She gave me an innocent look as we crossed the plaza. In the center was a red stone statue of a broken dragon, cast prostate on a massive plinth and splayed wide over the stone, water jetting out of its numerous wounds. An imperious black marble statue of the Imperatrix stood over the fallen wyrm.

    The plinth also doubled as a bit of a diving platform, as many broodlings and other young folks had clamored up to the top and had jumped into the fountain pool that surrounded the statuary.

    The Imperatrix statue was pristine but much of the plinth was worn smooth by generations of playing broodlings.

    It was a good thing we had just eaten, as the scents wafting from the food vendors setup around the fountain were quite tempting. I confess I did purchase a few loaves of freshly baked bread.

    Visha looked at me with some amusement as I tried to juggle the large warm bag. She had taken one as well. "You're too kind for the cooks."

    "It helps. Now, they won't have to send a scullery girl out to get bread," I said when we went up the stairs to the funicular station.

    "It still shows that you think of your servants. Just like always." Visha looked down the inclined tracks as they went towards the river. There was also a good view of the stone massif that was the Palace. Though it was hard to be in a part of the Silvana and not see that cyclopean city within a city, the seat of BlackSky's power.

    As much as the Celestial class airships, like the one in the air above us to the north, were a mark of House BlackSky's imperial grandiosity, the Palace was another such giant edifice. With about two hundred levels, it was less of a structure and more modified geography.

    The base and the bulk of the Palace was carved out of a great mesa-like uplift that had been encircled by water. The higher levels were built out of material that had been excavated from the structure constructed to give the impression of a titanic vertical city.

    The cars of the funicular train were trundling up. Their bright green lacquered paint glittered in the sunlight as we waited, many steps away from the edge of the stepped platform. If Visha noticed that habit of mine, she did not comment on it.

    "They're not my servants. They're my mother's," I stated as we boarded, after most of the other people who had been waiting at the station.

    The funicular trundled upslope. I looked out the window and studied the city. It was a blend of architectural styles over the centuries. True to our Roman influences, there was an underpinning of classical imperial style. However there was also a fair bit of Victorian ironmongery and glass vaulting and even some stark Art Deco buildings contrasting with baroque structures filled with bas relief and other ornamentation.

    And threaded all throughout the grand city were the trees: glens, parks, arboreal slopes, and long rows of leafy colonnades. Compared to the provincial capital I had grown up in, Silvana was a far busier and more bustling place. In many ways it was like Bovitar but magnified in power and potential. There was a sense of mercantile possibilities, heady almost libertine excess of choice.

    Khemi, the Luxon capital, might have more opulent options for stupefaction and indulgence. The Alecton city of Mourning, may have more gleaming stone edifices to commerce and industry. Andromachin Myr may be the true crossroads of Diyu and the most cosmopolitan.

    But Silvana was the crown jewel of our Imperatrix's wisdom. It was not perfect, but there were far worse places and Houses to live. At least here there was opportunity, someone did not have to enlist as a Janissary to have a hope of founding a business. This city could be an ideal place to find meaningful work after I got out of the Legions.

    I could feel Visha's amusement. "Enjoying the view?" she asked as the funicular slowed to a stop. Ours was the next one.

    "Just thinking."

    "Oh?"

    "About opportunities. You know... after." I gestured down to my uniform. "There's a lot we could do here."

    The funicular car started moving again, and Visha smiled.

    "Maybe set up a consulting firm on Ritual Plate tactics and systems. Or we could do research." I watched buildings pass by as we gained altitude.

    "That would be a good business to run while raising a family," Visha said, practically dripping with innocence.

    The bag of bread nearly slipped from my hands. I stilled my tail. In part I was concentrating to not brush past anyone else. By Diyu standards the train car was a bit full, by those of my first life it was nearly empty. "Yes... I suppose heirs would be a requirement."

    "For you and the baroness, yes," she cheerfully agreed while she enjoyed the view out the window.

    "I can't leave you out," I blurted. "That is..." I exhaled and tried to keep from flushing. "That is all in the future."

    "Of course," Visha stated. "It's against regulations to get pregnant while on active duty."

    I tried to give a flat look. "Even if not, we are far too young."

    My wingwoman gave a little smile. "LoveBlood is patient; she's waited this long after all."

    I tried not to pout. Nobility came with a price, and I knew an arranged marriage could just well be part of it. I was the youngest daughter by far, so my value was less... imposing for my Duchess' political considerations. However, that gave her more flexibility. And my Duchess would be more than happy to have me with someone I was... happy with.

    "Her maturing is not all positive," I muttered.

    House BlackSky took a dim view on forced marriages. Any bride could object to an arranged marriage, and their concerns would take primacy. In my case I had enough personal status and honors that I could make quite an issue. And yet... why cause such a scene?

    Not when my Duchess could have me with someone I had been.... close to since my cadet days, and get the Barony of Lilla as a bonus.

    Visha smiled as the car slowed to our station. "I wouldn't worry about it," she assured.

    Following her, and the other passengers, out, I huffed. "I suppose it does help her family issues as well."

    In the light of gas-lamps, we exited the platform and went up a series of steps to street level. Each of the city's funicular lines had a constant slope. That meant that some stations were elevated, others were below grade. The Jade Crescent Avenue station was deep enough that it could pass for a subway stop.

    While I enjoyed the smell of fresh bread, it was a still bit of a relief to get back into the open air. At least out under the sky, I could at least open my wings up a bit more, letting taut muscles stretch that delicious extra half inch.

    I had lived in many different cultures each with their own conventions for public rail transport. Silvana was cosmopolitan which meant that, especially in warmer months, fashion options were extremely flexible. However, the societal rules against casual, even accidental, physical contact with strangers applied year-round, and were highly respected.

    While the rules regarding stray touching were universal, the fashion sense of Silvana's denizens was far less so. The variety of styles worn on the street would whiplash between esoterica seemingly sourced from the more "fashionable" parts of Tokyo to the gowns, suits, and uniforms, including my own, that befit those engaged in the Imperialist Great Game, or the industrialists and workers supporting that endeavor. All without mentioning the prevalence of complicated leather, latex, or silk garments or even those made from even more exotic materials.

    I followed Visha's gaze as she watched a couple passing us as they glided into the station. The ratio of skin covered by glittering jewelry versus carefully-sculpted minute leather straps was impressive from a sheer structural engineering aspect. Anchoring and discreetly supporting that much material was an impressive feat in and of itself. Furthermore, the nearer of the pair had her amber hair up in an intricately shaped coiffure of bejeweled excess. The carefully sculpted pile made her gem-adorned horns, gilt hooves and talons, and ornamented tail seem almost understated.

    Her companion, with her hair shorn save for an emerald-colored topknot, was dressed in sleek lavender and silver silks tied with a sash. Overall, the rode seemed like blended combination of a kimono and a toga. Her ebony features were severe but confident. Clearly, the couple were ready for a night on the town.

    Or given the hour, a very... opulent lunch.

    "It's never dull in the capital," Visha said with maybe a bit of wistfulness as she gave the amber-haired woman one last look. Then the insolent girl smirked at me. "See something you like?"

    "The other woman looked a bit like Octavia. I was wondering if they were related," I coughed.

    "Swimwear is very common in Amber Island. Even when you get away from the beaches, the style lingers," Visha replied happily.

    "Crazy demons," I smirked as we went down the avenue. We were in a more upscale district. Or, at least, the presence of the reserved businesses ensconced in the stately storefronts of stone buildings were anything to go by, the area was upscale. The fact was reduced by the presence of the seemingly omnipresent food vendors hawking street food from their carts.

    Managing our burdens, bread and briefcase, we continued down the avenue for a well-trafficked block and turned to cut across an oblong park with a grove of impressively old beech trees with immense trunks that split into broad canopies. Most had benches that took advantage of the shade.

    There were families playing and more than a few people enjoying the sun. I smiled a bit seeing a drow reading under a dark blue sun parasol not far from a Forest Person who was napping with his back to one of the beeches. A slightly less shaggy dog was curled up at his feet.

    Visha chuckled. "You could get a pet."

    I shook my head as we left the park. "It wouldn't be fair. Any dog would have to stay with family when I deploy."

    "Plenty of units bring mascot animals to forward positions."

    I tilted my head to her as a family of humans passed us to go into the park. I wondered if they lived around here or were from further up-slope.

    "It could help morale," Visha offered

    "Gibbs says she has her hands full enough keeping my suit operational."

    "You have other Ritualista," Visha countered. "Maybe IvoryTail could help."

    I shook my head. "She prefers cats."

    "And we can't have a cat as our Flight's mascot," Visha said with excessive sobriety as we went down a side street. I almost asked her what she had against cats, before noting the mischievous gleam in her eye. Instead of rising to her teasing, I focused my attention on our surroundings. It was a very quiet and rather exclusive street, lined with truly impressive architecture that could only fit in a very broad, very expansive, definition of the word "house".

    The houses here were... well, at the end of the street was my Duchess's "townhouse". It was not the largest nor the most opulent manor house on the small lane: that title was contested by the marble-encrusted edifice that served as the Silvan residence of a territorial governor and a faded-ivory baroque pile that belonged to a board member of Imperial Blimp and Freight

    The dark slate narrow-windowed house of a Standard Alchemical Products heiress were also in the running for the top spot, albeit via a more subtle approach. More than the main house, the heiress's clear interest in outdoor entertaining was reflected in the various pools, the grotto, the portico, and the intricate grounds surrounding the estate, and the same features gave her bid for top billing a less ostentatious air.

    Compared to all of that architectural tail-measuring, my mother's grey and copper four story residence was almost dowdy in its somber color choices and unadorned walls, as mundane as an urban mansion could be.

    "It's great that your mother agreed to have us all stay here." Despite the appreciation in her tone, Visha managed to keep her amazement in check as we approached the townhouse. I wasn't overly impressed myself; I suppose one could get used to anything, given time and exposure. As far as billets went this was by far the most comfortable I'd ever had in my military careers, although it lacks a certain something in terms of practicality.

    Thankfully, despite her periodic awed gasps, Visha managed to keep her eyes firmly in her skull, and still managed to maintain situational awareness. It was always pleasant to have a trustworthy and competent second by my side.

    Comfort aside, our current location in a very exclusive part of the capital did not mean that we could assume there would be no threats against us. It did not seem likely that other high status functionaries in the interlocking machine of nobility, industry, and armaments would have anything against a more militant noble faction. But it might happen.

    Best to stay wary, and always vigilant.

    "Mother SilverFlight would say the expense of such an investment would be wasted, if it were never used. Having her family and their..."

    "Retainers? Subordinates? Flunkies?" Visha offered one term after another, her smirk widening with each "helpful suggestion".

    "Friends," I retorted, firmly settling on a degree of comfortable ambiguity on. In this situation, ambiguity was my strongest shield. I knew something of office politics as well as the drearily similar politics that surrounded staff and field officers, but noble politics were still something of a mystery to me. The tune might be similar, but the steps of the danger were subtly different. Until I found my footing, best to stay vague and free of commitments.

    Visha and I strode up the cobbled entry drive and across the front yard, immaculately landscaped but far more restrained than those of our neighbors. The broad front doors opened ahead of us, and a pair of maids in the purple livery of my duchess bowed as we climbed up the short flight of stairs before ushering us inside.

    As the maids fussed over us, I handed the bread bags we had picked up over the shorter of the pair. The slender, periwinkle skinned maid gave me a little smile as she gathered up the still-warm loaves.

    Freed from my deliciously crusty burden, I turned to the candle-lit alcove just to the left of the entryway. Inside, beneath a silver four-pointed star in the center was a statue of my eldest sister, Invidia. The one who had died before I was even born. Also in the alcove were many other statues, including a pair I'd been told represented my birth parents. Bowing my horns slightly, I brushed a finger over one of my earrings while whispering a quiet prayer, in honor of their memories and to show respect for my adoptive family.

    In my first life I had done my share of Shinto rituals and showed obeisance to the kami. It was less an act of faith and more one of social and cultural cohesion. The difference here was I knew that kami, or some spirits, were quite real and it was prudent to respect my new family's traditions, especially given my reputation as a custodian of holy relics.

    The older maid, her cap and lapels ornamented with strands of gold thread, waited patiently for me to finish. "You are too kind, Countess."

    "It's just..." I coughed, "I mean, I was raised by the Sisters of Our Hallowed Lady."

    Both maids smiled, before the taller of the pair continued. "Not that, your piety is lovely. No, it's that you'll go out and do errands and bring in things."

    "It saves the scullery girl a trip," I shrugged. It cost me little in terms of effort, energy, or time, and I was already living off the Duchess's money, sot he cost for the bread was essentially trivial.

    "Practical things," the older maid stressed as she adjusted her glasses. I idly noted that a strand of her glossy bottle-green hair had escaped from the simple, prim bun that was her habitual style.

    "The baroness is... enthusiastic," the younger maid said, her vague compliment covering a barbed critique. Which was a rule when it came to interacting around servants: they were always listening.

    I nodded. "Well... LoveBlood tries."

    "Oh, she does," the younger maid laughed.

    Her superior shot her a look and the younger maid curtseyed her way out of the room, presumably sent away to the kitchens. "Yes, the Baroness is already in residence and Centurion GreyDawn is still out."

    "And what is VioletBlood up to?" I asked.

    "I can't rightly say." The senior maid adjusted her glasses, her tail swishing with emotion. The subtext of the maid's thoughts on the young baroness was quite clear. "But she did insist that your company would be... appreciated."

    I shifted my gaze over to Visha, who gave me a very innocent shrug paired with an almost offensively sunny smile. "It seems a little early for a birthday gift, but..."

    "I see." I sighed. "Thank you Lilly," I gave a respectful bow to the maid, carefully inclining my horns.

    "Shall I have you announced, my Lady?"

    My tail stilled as I sensed danger looming in my near future. "LoveBlood didn't request a special room like the little theater or the solarium?"

    Lilly thankfully shook her head. "Nor did she reserve the baths. I believe that she is either in her quarters, or in... the guest apartments."

    I nodded, ignoring the maid's mildly distasteful tone. The staff had expected me to take a more... sumptuous set of quarters, befitting to my station. Instead, I had opted for a single bedroom that opened onto a common room, one that half a dozen other similar bedrooms also connected with. It was still the most luxurious bedroom I had used in any of my lives but perhaps a bit humble for a Countess.

    Giving a final little bow, I motioned for Visha to follow and we crossed the townhome's foyer. By the standards of a Duchess, it was rather understated, though, I was certain that every bit of statuary, painting and piece of furniture had a story and pedigree. Now that I was inside the aristocratic fold, it increasingly seemed to me that most noble families had a streak of magpie hoarder to them. They squirreled away endless trinkets and trophies, and held onto them for generations, to the point where the intrinsic value of the object was secondary to the sheer fact that it had been in the family's possession for so long. Parried with the long natural lifespans of demons, and the sheer quantity of knick-knacks sourced from multiple worlds exploded

    "Well... Maybe this isn't about your gift?" Visha did not sound very convinced as she broke the brief silence.

    We went up the sweeping stairs. "Or maybe it's something that needs to be fitted to me and has to be adjusted before it's finished." Despite my matter of fact tone, I shivered slightly, imagining what sartorial horrors I would have to endure in the name of friendship. This was just the type of staircase LoveBlood, and my Duchess, would love to see me descend wearing some puffed-up collection of ribbons, bows, laces, and skirts. Truly, I was a pawn, subject to conspiratorial forces.

    We stepped off the stairs at the second floor landing. Conveniently, the guest rooms were mostly on that floor, along with a study, the library and the games room. The Duchess's personal chambers and more opulent suites were on the third floor. Above those were the observatory, rooftop garden, and roughly half of the servants' quarters, with the other half located down on the first floor by the kitchens.

    As Visha and I proceeded down the hallway towards the common room, we both started to frown. I stretched my wings slightly, shooting an inquisitive look towards my wingwoman as we neared the common room's door. The baroness's presence inside was obvious; I could hear her humming merrily to herself through the closed door. Or perhaps not to herself.

    "I feel it too; she's not alone," Visha whispered as the baroness's chipper tune suddenly stopped. I could faintly hear the sounds of two or more people shuffling around in the room.

    And the person she was with.... did not feel like one of us.

    Presuming I would be faced with a seamstress or tailor, I bypassed my typical politeness of knocking and I pulled the door open.

    "Countess, you are so hard to surprise!" VioletBlood pouted. She stood by one of the leather wingback chairs that faced the window, a fluted glass in hand. Several more glasses, a full tea service, and a collection of pastries were on the round oak table that served as our venue for card games and most meals.

    And demurely standing before the table was a maid. She was not one of my Duchess's. Yes, her livery was purple but only on the ruffled accents. The bulk of her outfit was black, with a white apron and top.

    It was possible that she was just a maid who I was personally unfamiliar with. This seemed unlikely, since I knew all of SilverFlight's personal maids as well as those on the staff at her Eastern Province home, and those here at the townhouse.

    More to the point, the maid with fluffy apricot-colored hair was the wrong species. Her pointed ears and surplus of tails were not exactly common features among Diyu demons. While many of my kind could be said to be "fox-faced", with lean features, few of us had literally vulpine ears or multiple fluffy tails. Though, the maid was pretty enough to be one of our kind.

    Indeed, the maid was a kitsune. She was also taller than me by half a head and had an air of experience behind her polite, if amused, stance. Majestic, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, I could see how many would find the vixen to be very winsome and alluring.

    The fox-folk were an uncommon but hardly rare people in House BlackSky. I had been a bit amused when I first learned that some of the creatures from my first life were not so mythological. But, why was she here?

    "Who is your friend, Baroness?" Visha asked. "I don't think we've been introduced."

    VioletBlood gave a tiny pout of distaste. I doubted my bloody-minded baroness would consider any servant a friend. "This is Reinhild SunShower."

    "Charmed." I slightly bowed my horns to her. Why would VioletBlood hire a maid? Was it a coincidence that she had a Germanic first name? Combined with the Japanese connection...

    I gave VioletBlood a cautious look. How much did she know? Was this "gift" some sort of devious plot? She was an aristocrat. I knew the only staff she had in the capital was a fiscal manager assisting her seneschal, though she was more an advocate for the Barony of Lilla than a personal servant to the Baroness.

    "The pleasure is mine. I am happy to serve," SunShower curtsied and then poured me a cup of coffee.

    I thanked her sincerely before taking a sip. If she'd brewed the coffee as well as she poured it, she was skilled indeed. I could see VioletBlood taking on extra staff for a special event but, as I glanced around the room, it did not seem like anything special was going on.

    "You're not excited?" VioletBlood's tail curled.

    "Should I be?" I blinked.

    The baroness threw her hands up. "How picky can you be? What's wrong with her?"

    "Pardon?" I then looked to Visha for support, but she gave me an innocent look. "I mean, LoveBlood, she's nice enough, but I'm not sure why you need a maid today."

    "She's for you!" VioletBlood stomped a foot. "She's a gift for you."

    I stared. "You can't just give people, people!"

    VioletBlood gave a haughty laugh. "Countess, you need a personal servant. And you do like dogs."

    Careful to not spill my coffee. I studied the kitsune, she seemed capable but... After a moment, I shook my head. "I don't need a maid! And, VioletBlood, you can't call her a dog. Haven't you learned yet how unwise it is to insult people with access to your drinks? Perhaps I need to administer some remedial etiquette lessons..."

    VioletBlood paled, but rallied admirably quickly. "She's better than a dog, and she's a veteran of a full term in the scout Auxiliary!"

    I sat down at the table and Reinhild SunShower immediately went up and moved my cup, put a saucer under it, and placed a plate with some pastries in front of me. They were some of my favorites.

    "She was in the Legions?" My experience was with the large Forest People. I knew they could be devastating but stealthy scouts. Kitsu were purportedly even harder to detect and had effective magics of their own.

    "The Auxiliary," VioletBlood sniffed.

    I made a sharp motion with the blade of my hand to silence the baroness. "Go on... Miss? Is that correct? Miss SunShower?"

    Still standing just to my side, she bowed to me again. "I most recently served with the 67th Infantry Legion Valentinian. The bulk of my service was based around Eastern Province. I am still in the active reserves. But I have served in several offworld campaigns and many minor House theatres. I heard about your time in the jungles of Crocelli."

    "How long ago were you there?" I inquired.

    "About two decades ago. At the last uprising on the eastern edge of the Alecton concession. Our Legion was doing a southern flaking action for Corpus Incursio Merciful's landing. It was... complicated. The enemy expected our attack from the air, but not our ability to bypass their defenses overland."

    I nodded. The fallout from that battle contributed to the reorganization of House Crocelli, the formation of their Interior Confederations, and the various movements against that minor House.

    She smirked. "No woodlands are denied to us."

    "A regular jungle fox, eh?" I lightly asked. The Crocelli Fox was a sleek, large-eared canid And despite having a water-proof double coat, always looked a bit bedraggled out in the heavy rains. Not that I had very many opportunities to spot one of the sly foxes.

    "We might have gotten a nickname or two." Her grin became toothy. "The Diluvians may still tell stories about us."

    "And how are you finding the City of Trees?" I asked, pointedly not wondering if Miss SunShower did work for CSR in helping spread rumors and fears among the enemy populace.

    "Oh very busy, but as you say, the trees do make it more comfortable."

    "Would you care to sit?" I asked.

    The maid frowned.

    "Don't push her," Visha admonished as she sat down next to me.

    "I knew you'd like her!" VioletBlood cheered.

    "She's not yours to give," I replied firmly. VioletBlood really needed to learn about how unwise it was to insult servants to their faces, and I had no desire to be caught in the blowback when the tiny vengeances began. Perhaps she was insulated, or even coddled, by the servants who helped raise her as they took pity on the orphaned baroness and bore her slights without retribution. However, how she treated subordinates, in general, was my responsibility, especially if she was to be, one day, promoted to Flight Leader.

    "Ah, but you are wrong." The baroness triumphantly placed a thick stack of papers onto the table, just in front of Reinhild. The folio was trussed with purple ribbons and a big floppy bow.

    I glanced at it, sighed, and started reading through the first few pages of paperwork.

    "Don't worry, it's a standard contract. She can quit at any time. Though, since I am paying for her first two years, if her resignation is with cause I will be cross at you for making me pay out the severance bonus." VioletBlood chattered on as I scanned subsequent pages. It looked like an employment contract, just as the baroness has stated.

    "Why?" I paged between the duties and compensation sections, before looking over at the seemingly happy, but very lethal, fox-woman. I knew a bit about staffing costs. I had my own county to run and while my hirelings were not personal servants they were also not inexpensive. LoveBlood was paying a premium.

    "You deserve it," the baroness assured.

    "I will do my best to be of service," the maid assured me as her fluffy tails wagged.

    "Why do you want this job?" I clarified, sipping my coffee.

    "It is less risky than being a Scout. And I have served as a lady's maid previously."

    "I managed to poach her when her previous employer left Bovitar to work on some colony," VioletBlood added. "That's why I'm doing this now instead of your birthday."

    "I am in the Legions, I could be deployed anywhere."

    "I didn't resign, Ma'am. My previous mistress let all of her staff go. She would be hiring all new ones at her next location."

    "Is it just the premium pay? What is your interest in this position?" I inquired. If she was going to be my employee, I wanted to know what motivated her. Being motivated by money was fine and all, but I wanted to be sure.

    "You have an impressive record."

    I lifted an eyebrow.

    "Not the flying stuff. But that you connected with people in your county and the Auxilia. The Forest People have their flaws, but they are good judges of character." Her tails flicked about as she spoke. Their movements were hypnotic, but to me the constant shaking and wagging betrayed a hint of apprehension.

    "And?"

    "There are opportunities," she admitted. "If you forgive my presumptiveness, but unlike many young nobles you look to your future, even past your military service. I appreciate that long term planning. I may be a widow and my children are grown, but I still look in on my family."

    I smiled. Ah, so my talking with Lares about business opportunities in my county had paid off. It was good to see an entrepreneurial spirit. "That is good to hear, but you are aware that it will be many years before I can leave the Legions?"

    Her smile was sharp. "I am very familiar with counting the years and months until one's term is up."

    "I knew you'd like her," VioletBlood said with a smug, toothy smile as she leaned forward before sitting down at the table and waiting for the maid to serve her.

    "Yes, she's charming; I don't mind her." I nodded to SunShower then as she poured tea, met the Baroness' gaze, my expression flattening. "To be frank, I'm more concerned about you at the moment."

    VioletBlood blinked.

    I decided to be direct. "You... got me a kitsune... with a German name."

    Visha smiled reprovingly at me. "You mean she hired a maid for you."

    "Uh... yes." What had I said? Was it that different? Was I objectifying people like LoveBlood?

    VioletBlood's confusion grew. "Does her name matter?"

    I stared. Crazy noble demons.

    "My father named me after his best friend's sister. They met in the Auxiliary," SunShower diffidently explained through a playful smile.

    "I can get you a different one," VioletBlood pouted, her tone equal parts sullen and confused.

    I frowned at her. "Another one?"

    "She's right here, VioletBlood," Visha said, a mild amount of irritation in her tone. Even Visha's patience wasn't endless. "You can't act like people are interchangeable."

    "But they are, dear Islander girl." VioletBlood sipped her coffee. "We are. That's the whole point of being in the Legions. Yes, we may have special skills. But within our occupational specialty and our flight certification we are supposed to be replaceable. Otherwise how could an officer replenish losses?"

    I sighed. She was not wrong, at least in a military organization. "And you think that applies with household staff?"

    "You don't?" VioletBlood seemed baffled. "I'll grant Miss SunShower has a set of skills that will be a bit hard to find again, especially on short notice but, the Legions have had many Auxilia over the years."

    I forced myself to take a drink of the admittedly delicious coffee. She was not necessarily wrong. From the perspective of the BlackSkyvian Imperial Legions, we are all cogs in the machine; some of us happened to be more expensive to replace. The baroness had lost enough family to learn that lesson, and for her part was very proud of being a particularly useful cog. This was not unique to the Legions; the military of my previous life operated the same way, as well as the company of my first. That was the way of large organizations.

    A chuckle escaped my lips, and seeing my cup refilled by a maid, my maid, I laughed again. I had no place to look down on LoveBlood for reaching such a conclusion. I was no idealist when it came to banners, institutions, or causes. Logical things like economic freedoms and individual liberty were what mattered.

    And the contract was beneficial to Miss SunShower with terms and obligations biased to her. I could not punish my baroness for taking my lessons to heart.

    "It is a very thoughtful gesture," Visha assured VioletBlood, doing the yeoman's work of keeping the conversation flowing through my moment of introspection.

    "And the background checks for a replacement would cause some delay," VioletBlood nibbled on some strudel. "Not to mention another expense."

    I sipped. "Ah, yes, she would be living here."

    "And have access to your and your effects. This is where her being a Rorarii means her file is still up to date and she can be checked," VioletBlood explained.

    I kept my expression carefully stoic, only expressing my irritation internally. Wonderful. Private detectives, as well as much of law enforcement, beyond the basics was subscription-based. Legion Counter Intelligence knew I had a maid servant. I suppose that didn't really make much of a real difference. My social status was a matter of public record and both the Librarians and the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance knew of me.

    In fairness, I had plans to leverage those networks. The Zioxan "mercenary" Samoth Rodswor was still out there, and she had sacrificed a whole Diluvian assault to try and kill me. I had enough experience with people out for familial revenge to know that remaining passively reactive would do nothing to help me with the situation.

    "It is a prudent precaution," SunShower agreed. "I will have a broad set of responsibilities."

    At that, I flipped through the contract and reread a few sections. "There's a hazard pay rate." I sighed. "LoveBlood, do you expect me to bring her on a deployment?"

    "Not to a FOB, no," the baroness replied, complete with her somewhat haughty laugh. "But there's always a chance fighting could break out. Why do you think I got you a maidservant who could fight?"

    "The equipment and arms allowance is generous," SunShower happily stated.

    "Good thing you're so thorough," Visha told VioletBlood.

    She smiled at my wingwoman. "It's not done yet, our countess still needs to sign."

    I flipped to the end of the contract. SunShower and VioletBlood had already signed and sealed it. My kitsune passed me a silver pen and had started to heat a purple wax-stick with a blue flame that came from a fingertip

    I signed; she dripped some wax onto the appropriate spot on the document. I then unclasped the Preserver Order award that hung at my neck and pressed it as my customary wax seal.

    VioletBlood clapped. "Now, don't worry, I'll get you something nice for our birthday, nowhere near as expensive as your real gift of course." She gestured to the kitsune who curtseyed.

    "You really don't have too," I said. I'd needed an aide, so accepting Reinhild wasn't too big of an issue; more staff would only get in the way. "You've already gotten me a valet and handmaiden."

    "Don't just use her as a personal secretary and to take dictation," VioletBlood replied with just a touch of insinuation, "She has far more skills than simple stenography."

    I flicked one of my bangs to the side, trying to remain as diplomatic in my reply a possible. "Be that as it may, you've been more than generous, LoveBlood."

    "Nonsense," Visha interjected. "Maybe you could help me pick something?" she asked the baroness.

    "Ah, that would practically guarantee that we'd pick a proper gift, between my fine taste and your second opinion." VioletBlood made a satisfied noise as she leaned back in the chair and seemed to take things in.

    "Your expertise in such things is very helpful." Visha's skills at flattery remained impressive.

    "We do have to help take care of our Countess," VioletBlood tittered

    My tail stilled. While I was happy to see them getting along so well, at times their cooperation seemed somehow ominous.

    "She does push herself too hard," Visha nodded. She was about to help herself to a pastry, but my maid moved in to fill her plate.

    "And now we can have another set of hands to help!" VioletBlood gave a broad smirk as she watched SunShower busy herself.

    I swallowed. "You do know she's my maid."

    "Oh, I'm well aware of that," the baroness laughed.

    "Ma'am," SunShower demurely asked.

    I flicked my tail, trying not to let my annoyance show in my face. I suppose she had a role to play. "Yes?"

    "If you'll allow me, I can familiarize myself with your schedule. Perhaps you could put aside some time to help me learn your preferences and methods as well?" Her tails wagged. "I want to make sure I can get your uniforms exactly how you like them."

    "Why don't I get you in contact with my chief Ritualista?" I responded, only half joking.

    "If you think a letter of introduction with Optio Gibbs would be helpful, then I can draft one for you," the kitsune said diffidently.

    "Sure, and I might as well inform my seneschal and my mothers."

    She nodded. "I can get started on the missives. Now, my rating as an accountant is as a novice and while I still have a measure of sensitive document access, I am not 'read in' to the ways of the Volantes. Are those areas that I will need to get training and further certification?"

    "Isn't she perfect for you?" VioletBlood gushed, her voice a purr, all but openly patting herself on the back in self-congratulatory approval.

    I slowly sipped my coffee. I would need to get to know her better, but if my maid performed as advertised then I would have a very capable assistant. It felt like some sort of Faustian bargain, but what was one more? I was a demon due to making a deal with an archangel, everything after that was just an outgrowth of that.

    I smiled at her. "I think that will suffice for now. I will let you know if I find you... insufficient in any way."

    ++++++++++

    "Ah, Primus DiamondDust. I shouldn't be shocked to see you here," a Tribune said as she walked up to my reading table. The main library of the Imperial War College had more than a wide-ranging collection of reports, documentation, journals, and other publications.

    They had a small, if efficient, reference collection of historical, contemporary, and offworld weapons, mostly small arms and equipment. Some could even be signed out for evaluation purposes, but that often required approval from an instructor.

    "Tribune ShadowWhisper," I moved to stand and salute, but she waved me off. The tall woman had short silvery hair, pale skin that seemed almost translucent, and ivory wings that did have transparent membranes. Taken together with her white Fleet uniform, she had an almost spectral look. Her coloration was vaguely similar to IvoryTail, one of my Ritualista, but the Tribune was more lightly built.

    She carried a dark purple valise and had placed it on the table. "Working on anything interesting?" my supply and logistics instructor inquired.

    The War College's Library was a rich source of academic and study assets, ranging from big things like print shops, conference rooms with full projector suites, simulation and computation time, to simpler items like study carrels, copiers, meeting rooms, and a hall that was a series of broad flat tables.

    That last asset had proven useful for group work, unrolling maps, or, in my case, studying multiple books at once.

    "Just collating some of the reports on House Elena's production of scrying components versus the projections on their Rital Plate production numbers. I'm suspicious of their claim that they have that many Mokosh suits in production." Our rival on the northern border, Elena, was the most populous Diyu Great House and the only one with a larger economy and population than ours.

    "Their version of our Occultia?"

    I nodded. "It's their most expensive suit. That is, depending on were one puts the research and development cost of their Volos." I pointed to a couple budget tables I had worked up. "It's a tossup between a theatre grade scrying suit and a highly-veiled stealth air superiority suit."

    ShadowWhisper looked over the tables. "Hmm... the development of the Marzanna?"

    "It seemed prudent. Yes the Volos is an outgrowth of the Marzanna, but the latter is a competent enough air superiority suit. At least now that the relatively weak warding projectors were fixed, and the whole training issue."

    The ghostly tribune's grey eyes studied the figures. "Are you trying for some extra credit in my class?"


    "No, Ma'am. It's just a personal project."

    The Fleet officer's lips went to a thin smile.

    "It's a shame we can't have you in Logistics," Tribune ShadowWhisper chuckled as she opened her valise and handed me the report I had submitted yesterday.

    I gave the grade and comments page a quick glance as I bowed my horns. The previous empire I had served had become extremely skilled with rail-based logistics and had a good hand with forward supply. House BlackSky also had a good rail network, and had considerable experience with fleet-based logistics, both air and sea-based fleets.

    My tail stilled as her words sunk in. "Ma'am?"

    "Oh don't worry, I'm not talking about poaching you for the Fleet. Though with your wings you would look lovely in white." ShadowWhisper's tail swished. "I could see you being fantastic at running a Logistics Cohort. But..." she shrugged.

    I kept my composure. A skilled Ritual Plate Pilot, especially one being positioned for squadron command would be very unlikely to be transferred to Logistics. "Thank you Ma'am, it is an important skillset, and one I want to refine for my future."

    It was easy to hide my disappointment. After all, that was hardly a safe rear echelon position. Centered around two dozen Thalia utility trucks and three dozen Nymph light transports, a Logistics Cohort was built for forward supply. Yes, there was a group of Ritual Plate and Centuries of Legionaries to provide escort, but providing direct combat logistics was hardly my dream position.

    The Tribune chuckled. "Yes, a shame. More than a few Volantes House Legates have gotten their ground combat and supply training by operating a Logistics Legion."

    I tried not to stare. A Logistics Legion was based around four Logistics Cohorts, two Umbra VTOL heavy Long Range Insertion Cohorts, and two Triarii IVF Armor Cohorts. Including the Legionary HQ assets of Ritual Plate, heavy VTOLs, Artillery, and other assets, a Logistics Legion had thousands of tons of ground cargo capacity and nearly a thousand tons for airborne cargo, plus strong escorting assets in terms of thousands of Legionaries, a Legion RP Wing , four troops of armor, and multiple artillery batteries.

    And this Fleet officer assumed I wanted to be in command of such a unit, and worse to use it as a stepping stone to a rank that was equivalent to a Corpus Incursio level of command.

    "While I appreciate your vote of confidence, and I will serve the Imperatrix to my abilities, that is very flattering," I said, glancing over. Ah, I had company, well that Centurion had a habit of being early. "But I am focused on being worthy of my promotion to Prefect."

    "Of course, Countess." The fleet officer smiled. She gave a slight bow of her horns. "If you would like to share your latest project, I would find it interesting, and I might know some people to forward it to who might be as well."

    Ah. That was the game. Clearly, ShadowWhisper was interested in networking with my mother and was working her way to asking for an introduction. It made sense, my mother had many guild and commercial interests that were suppliers for both the Imperial Legions and the Household Fleet. Those would be useful connections to a Tribune who specialized in logistics.

    I gave a gracious nod. "I would appreciate such an offer."

    "Lovely, see you in class, Primus," she nodded and walked off, her tail slowly swishing behind her.

    After a moment, my subordinate walked up. GreyDawn shook her head, causing her wavy flame-colored hair to swish about. "You do have a knack, Ma'am," she remarked, offering a salute.

    I waved her off and gestured for her to take a seat.

    "Part of having a Duchess for a mother," I shrugged. "People try to curry her favor all the time."

    Her amber eyes stared. "That may be true, but she was trying to get your favor."

    My tail went limp. "That's absurd. I'm just some Pilot." I continued before she could counter. "And even if we play the noble card, I've got a border-region, provincial county."

    GreyDawn flashed her fangs. "She thinks you're destined for flag rank, House Legate DiamondDust."

    "That's not funny," I growled.

    "Ma'am, it kind of is," GreyDawn countered.

    I rubbed my forehead. I had not reached flag rank in my previous life, but I had gotten close. The Legions were a bit different in that there was a considerable gap between Tribune and Legate, apart some semi-official gradations of Tribune to help bridge the divide.

    The time for keeping my head down was long past, like being awarded the Crown of Preserver past. Honestly, it had passed when I had become a ballet soloist. "Please don't joke about that."

    "Who's joking?"

    I grumbled.

    GreyDawn smirked. "Tribune ShadowWhisper may be very serious." She sobered. "You should take care with that. Plenty of officers use War College to brush up on their networks."

    "And you know this because?"

    "Centurions do too!" she laughed.

    "Can we change the subject?"

    "Of course Ma'am, do you want to talk about your cadets? Or the Elena RP production project? Oh! I have been writing with Octavia. She's been asking about you."

    "You have?" Octavia had been in my Flight before Visha had transferred in. Last I heard, Octavia was still with Mercy's Second Flight. "How is she doing?"

    "Doing well. She'd got engaged."

    "Congratulations, she's a lucky girl." I tapped the table. "I wonder if we'll be able to make it."

    "Oh, they haven't set a date yet." GreyDawn waved it away.

    "Still, I should send a gift."

    GreyDawn's eyes sparkled but she nodded.

    "No comment?"

    "What could I say, Ma'am?"

    "That I would have my pet fox pick a gift out for me?"

    "Perish the thought," GreyDawn shook her head. "I would never think such a thing."

    I gave the taller woman a level glare.

    "Honest." GreyDawn shrugged. "Octavia was one of yours. You would personally pick her gift."

    I nodded, a touch reluctantly, at that.

    "I'm sure you'd have your fox do the actual mailing, but there's nothing untoward about that."

    Organizing my notes, I sighed. "Did you have fun last night?"

    "It was an entertaining spectacle."

    I suppose that was a way to put it. I was not too fond of blood sports, but with our healing capabilities gladiator games were no worse than boxing or martial arts bouts. Hopefully. "Did you bet on the winner?"

    She chuckled "No, Countess, I didn't bet on last night's gladiator bout. "

    "Oh? why not?"

    She helped me pack up a couple books. "It's fixed, Ma'am. It's as choreographed as one of your ballets. Well with more fake blood."

    Ah. So it was all a spectacle in a preformative meaning. Still... "You've never seen how March over the Resh River ended?" The last act required me to wear a blood-red leotard with bits of white accents, and a crimson wig. Mother Clementia said I looked like DarkStar dressed up like that.

    GreyDawn laughed. "Fine, more real blood and bruising than ballet."

    I snorted. "Tell that to my feet. But point taken. So, what did you wager on?"

    "Ma'am?"

    "I know you, GreyDawn. You wouldn't go to some sporting event, especially a fixed one, if there wasn't some sort of juicy action."

    She gave me a neutral expression before slowly smiling. "I might have had a few side bets after leaving the amphitheater. Plenty of folks have their blood up after seeing a good match, even if it's fake."

    I tilted my head. "Do I really want to know?"

    "Maybe when you're older," GreyDawn laughed.

    There was no pouting on my part. "That is... acceptable."

    "You're remarkably patient, most young women can't wait to grow up."

    "I'm no fledgling. Besides, I know what'll happen when I get older." I organized the books and put my ledgers into my bag.

    GreyDawn laughed. "Did your fox explain things? Or did you finally realize what the other two members of our Flight are after."

    My expression darkened. "I am well aware of the baroness' machinations."

    The older woman just smiled.

    I huffed. Competent subordinates were valuable, and that meant a wise commander gave them some latitude, especially if they were not undermining your authority. And GreyDawn was a well of experience. "Are you volunteering to do comms training for the cadets?"

    Her tail flicked. "The noble flower of BlackSkyvian youth do need training," she carefully stated.

    I laughed. "Yeah, they're like my nieces, way too eager, clueless and pestering me for stories."

    "Ma'am, are we talking about your nieces who are younger than you?" GreyDawn's tone was utterly respectful.

    I did not give an exasperated exhale. "I think it's worrying that the fantasies of little broodlings are indistinguishable from those of new cadet pilots."

    "The ones with imaginary tea and stuffed animals? Or the ones of daring do against sinister enemies of our Great House?'

    I snorted.

    "You have to give our cadets some slack. Not everyone can be as..."

    Glancing over to her, my gaze hardened.

    "As experienced as the baroness was at that age," GreyDawn completed.

    "Most of our students are older than LoveBlood was when she was a cadet."

    GreyDawn pointedly did not say that most of them were older than I was right now, let alone how old I was as a cadet.

    My wings stretched a bit. "In a way I'm jealous of your simple pleasures and plain ambition."

    "Ma'am." she stated neutrally.

    "I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be a solid pilot and having a comfy cot and warm grub." My tail swished. I tried to have such plain goals, but military life ended up going... too well for me. "We both know the burdens that come with all of the awards and decorations, as well as the problems caused by those who hunger desperately for shiny pins and ribbons."

    "Ma'am" GreyDawn stated with what was almost approval. "Not everyone can be sober and mature. Most Pilots are very... aggressive."

    "That's why cadets are under long-term evaluation for skill and temperament before being put into active service." Closing my leather bag and piling up the books I would be returning, I stood up.

    GreyDawn took most of the books to carry under her arm.

    "No remark? No sidelong or skeptical sigh?"

    "And not respect your authority?" GreyDawn noted. "DarkStar forbid."

    I snorted.

    "Prefect Quirinus had trained you and the baroness for a year before your fight south of Narvos. I didn't have that many hours in a suit before my first combat deployment."

    "You were also half a decade older than me." We walked to the library's return desk.

    "And I was a cocksure, arrogant greenhorn brat who was in way over her head," GreyDawn shook her head as she put the books onto the counter.

    I frowned but got them checked back in with the librarian and we left the library and went out onto the main quad of the War College. "You? A greenhorn?"

    "There's a reason Quirinus assigned me to your Flight. I may have matured over the years but I do remember what it was like to start out with talent but no experience." GreyDawn smirked while I shook my head.

    ++++++++++

    I sighed as SunShower fussed over my hair and uniform. Pulling at my wings with a professional, direct touch, the kitsune checked over my feathers, fussing any that were less than perfectly smoothed. I twisted and stretched a bit at her touch. Preening was a bit of a pain, but compared to membranous wings they were a bit less likely to tear.

    "Is this necessary?" I asked after she completed her work.

    She gave me a vulpine look as she straightened the Preserver Order award at my neck. "With the impression you have to make? I'd suggest you wear your crown."

    I looked up at the taller woman, her bushy tails swishing. "I never actually ordered a Preserver Crown."

    "Eventually your mother will do it for you, either one."

    I shivered a bit at the idea of Mother Clementia and through her, the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady, commissioning a Preserver Crown. They might even have one in a reliquary somewhere, though that the Church had not offered to make me a custodian of one, like they did my earrings, was suggestive that they either did not have a crown, that it had a current bearer, or they did not want to bestow such at thing to me. Regardless, there was some flexibility in the exact design of a Crown of the Preserver, and one made by the Church, or one of the major churches of the House, would make my purported piety even more blatant.

    Reinhild chuckled as she poured me a cup of coffee. "Fair. I can see why you're not keen to be so blatant."

    I sipped. "I'm not that worried. I've done far riskier things."

    "Physically," my maid agreed as she put a thermos into my valise as well as a small bag with fresh turnovers. She also looked down to confirm my papers were there. Smiling, she pulled one of the pastries out and handed it to me. "Don't get frosting on your uniform."

    "I know how to eat without getting it on my clothes," I replied tartly as I nibbled on the blackberry pastry.

    Nodding, she gave me a final critical look.

    "I'm fine," I assured her. Reinhild had washed my hair and had overseen my laundry. After the sparring match this morning I was happy to have the time to bathe and get my hair cleaned. Though the latter really meant she interfaced with the household staff. Being fussed over was both frustrating and relaxing. Though I had gotten used to it to some extent by my Ritualista and the times my Duchess had me dress up for some function or another.

    Taking the empty cup from me, she handed over my valise and a yard-long staff of polished vinewood, a fairly sturdy swagger stick.

    "Far be it for me to counter that," the kitsune bowed her head to me. "I am neither a noble nor a pilot."

    "But?"

    "I have spent time working with the Legions. I know when faced with fresh fish, Centurions tend to relish breaking them in, especially if they are haughty and have ideas." Her eyes glanced at my staff.

    I smiled. "You're concerned I'll go too far?"

    "I can't speak to your training methods, my Lady," she diplomatically stated.

    My grin expanded a bit. "I suppose I am paying for your expertise."

    Ears perking up, her tails swished. They were very fluffy, almost tempting.

    "Yes, LoveBlood is paying." I waved off.

    "Perhaps some diplomacy... at least until you gain their measure?"

    I flashed my fangs. "Ah, but you see, GreyDawn and my baroness are taking their measure right now." I looked at the grandfather clock ticking in my room. "They should be getting out of the simulators right now."

    I gave another sigh. "I wanted to be there, even as an observer, but I had an exam."

    "Close combat skills need to be evaluated," she gave her own sharp-toothed grin. "My Lady, have you been told when you'll be going to Advanced Evasion School?"

    I tried to give a casual shrug but my tail had slowed. "In a couple months. I've gone through the basic course in Bovitar." Evasion School was all about teaching a pilot how to survive if she got shot down behind enemy lines. Including such things as survival, field medicine, avoiding enemy patrols, escaping capture, and linking up with friendly ground units.

    "During my time in the Auxiliary, myself and other Scouts would assist the Instructors by playing the aggressor side," she brightly said.

    I finished my pastry. That made sense, scouts, both Kitsune and Forest People, were very good at tracking and stalking. Having a Pilot have to evade such pursuers...

    Her smile widened. "I would be more than happy to help give you some preparatory training. Provided, we can fit it into your schedule."

    My smile turned glassy. Being chased in the forest by kitsune was one thing. Being chased by my own maid was.... Well, I would not turn down training. I would just have to find a way to make sure people wouldn't talk... much...

    I bowed my horns. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Pencil in some time for that training in my schedule."

    "Of course, my Lady," SunShower said as she opened the door and then followed behind me. As we made our way through my Duchess' townhouse, she had a couple quiet words with the other servants before seeing me off at the front door.

    I exhaled and made my way to the funicular station. I had a training session to be debriefed on and a cadre of cadets to introduce myself to.

    ++++++++++


    I strode into the lecture hall, my boots ringing on the hardwood floor. The tiered room was fairly small, but even so, the cadet squadron failed to fill the first couple rows. Instead of standing behind the lectern, I hopped off the small stage and stood by the table where the three members of my Flight sat facing the cadets.

    "Volantes Cadet Optios, I do apologize for not being in person for your first training evaluation," I said, making sure my voice echoed through the hall. "I regret not being there to evaluate your performance in person."

    They were attentive. A few seemed to be a bit awed by me; a few were embarrassed; a couple were sullen. All needed to be watched.

    I picked up one of the reports Visha had put at the corner of her table and made a show of paging through it. I already knew the records of the dozen or so cadets in front of me and the debriefing had been quick but thorough.

    "Ah, you were flying Polydora Mark Sevens in the simulators. My my, I was trained on the Mark Five. Time flies." Sticking my vinewood staff under my arm, I tossed the report back onto the desk.

    I looked over the cadets. They were so young; the eldest was sixteen. Which at least gave me some time. None of them should be put into active combat, maybe they would get enough training time to live. They were in cadet uniforms, which were the same black as Legionary ones but had a green trim.

    "From what Centurion GreyDawn said, I was worried the only way I could make you made into something useful would be to serve you as lunch for some Fleet pilots."

    I gave them a grin that was full of cheer to show I was joking.

    "Let us begin with the positives. None of you broke the suits the Imperatrix was gracious to loan you, or..." I gave a sharp smile to five of the cadets one after the other, "the ones your mothers purchased for you. You also managed to avoid breaking any of the simulators by shattering your tethers or having your Zephyr actually accelerate you. Mostly." I added, locking gaze with the pink-haired, long-horned cadet who sat front and center.

    "Any other positives of note?" I asked my Flight.

    "They were able to get into their suits and could tell their left boot from their right boot," GreyDawn stated. "They know which way is up and down. They're very good at finding the ground."

    I made note of which of my students got heated at a commoner daring to mock them. Cadet Optio Lavish RoseTalon, the pink-haired Senator's daughter, was among them.

    "So, there we have it." I swept my arms around the room. "Collectively, you all spent... how many hours on private tutoring? How many aurei spent on trainer suits? Not exactly an efficient usage of time, money, or Ritual Plate."

    I went over to the table and poured myself a cup of coffee. "The expense in Ritualista alone," I theatrically murmured, my back to them.

    Turning to face the young demons, my smile returned. "I have good news, cadets. You're now in the Imperatrix Legions, and we will not waste BlackSky's money in having you play brave, heroic warriors."

    "Is this because we lost?" Lavish demanded, her voice cutting over the hall. She blinked, realizing the breach in discipline.

    I paused to let the silence linger and slowly put my mug down on the table. "Cadet, do you have something you wish to say?" I asked, striding over.

    "You've got more experience than us, your Flight ambushed and cut us apart, and then you had missiles come up from the ground and...."

    I stopped before her. "Yes? It wasn't fair? Or maybe they cheated?" I flipped out my staff and the cadets winced at it. Well, that would not do. I used it to tap the gem at my neck. "I did not earn this by playing fair. And our enemies won't; they'll happily trade a missile team to take one of you out. The scenario was not impossible, you could have won if you had focused on the Landing Zones and maintained a coherent formation."

    The daughters of Senators, Guild Leaders, Nobles, Legates, and Navarchs, these girls were the cream of the capital's young fliers. Or at least the ones that had been dumped in my lap. A bit of fear seemed to creep into them. I tapped my staff on the desk in front of Lavish.

    "The problem is not that you are bad fliers. On the contrary." I looked around them all. "Oh no, if I was looking for someone to compete in a race or to do an acrobatics show, I would be happy to have any of you. But I'm not looking for racers or acrobats. I'm not even looking for a ballet troupe. A ballerina knows how to move as part of a team.

    "Just because I could outfight any one of you one on one is irrelevant." I was being generous here. As they were now I could take them out by defeat in detail, and it would take a massive weight of numbers to stop me. "You should be more ashamed at how abysmal you are fighting as a Squadron and your piss-poor reactions to ground fire. You were fighting as a rabble not as a team."

    I gave them a warm, toothy grin. "However, once you have a remedial proficiency as a team then you may, in your copious free time, request some one on one aggressor training from myself or one of the other instructors."

    Lavish's green eyes smoldered but the short jade-haired cadet behind her lifted her hand.

    "Yes, Cadet Pulivia."

    "Ma'am, we tried to fight as a team, but we were just thrown together. And... not all of us listened..."

    I kept the same sharp, toothy smile on my face. "Yes. We'll start our lessons, shall we? There is a reason the Legions and the Fleet train our Pilots to a uniform standard. Yes, obviously, there is better cohesion with a team that is experienced flying together. You will not always have that luxury. This was a test of the standards to which your tutors trained you. Similarly, the chain of command is vital for establishing clear communications. Consistent protocols and training are vital in case of combat losses, you have to know what to do when things go wrong."

    I lifted my staff back up. "That is why we train you. So when everything goes wrong, when you find yourself without leadership and out numbered, you don't shatter into a bunch of panicked, pointless last stands."

    Staring at me, Lavish lifted her hand. Pulivia, in the second row, had started taking notes.

    Going back to get my mug, I nodded.

    "Are you saying we're not strong enough warriors?" Her pride had been wounded, but since it had been someone with my record, and station, who had inflicted the blow, she was still striving to keep her anger in check.

    I sipped my coffee. "What use do I have for warriors? The Legions want professionals. I reviewed the footage. Some of you are very deadly in a duel. That's why my Flight used numbers, position, and firepower to ensure such a dogfight didn't happen."

    "But you made Ace all by yourself!" the purple-skinned daughter of a Guild Leader burst out.

    I gave her a withering look. "Yes, as a last resort on a night when everything failed. Sending a twelve year old - oh I'm sorry that was a couple days before my birthday - into combat with just a sword and some fireworks is not a tactic any Great House should aspire to, not if they want to stay a Great House."

    She wilted, I exhaled, and continued. "If you saw the propaganda reels of my actions and thought that was a situation to emulate, then you learned the wrong lesson."

    "We shouldn't try to be as skilled in close combat as you?" Lavish asked after getting approval to speak.

    I shook my head. "Do not measure yourself against me. Not yet. The goal is how you perform for a given mission, as a group. There is a time for individual heroics. Usually, it's after everything else has gone wrong and you are alone and will die unless you are very good and very, very lucky. We train to give you tools to limit such an eventuality."

    I ruthlessly quashed my awareness of the hypocrisy of that comment.

    "I do not offer you glamorous training where you will become a Mistress of the Air able to take out enemy champions and Ace of Aces." I sipped my coffee. "But I can teach you the book. I can teach you how we fight and why we fight. And then... maybe... just maybe once you know the book, once you understand why the book is the way it is... then you can start to think about how to break the rules."

    There was almost a sense of disappointment among the young fliers, but a few were intrigued, and now two more of them were taking notes.

    "It is not enough to know how we are training and how we fight. You need to know our enemy's doctrine. How they conduct operations. What we know of their equipment. The formations and tactics they use. To defeat the enemy one must know the means by which they will try to achieve victory."

    The wind seemed to be knocked out from under their wings. Good. These were girls who were not used to being told no. And, if anything, discovering they had the fairly rare talents required to operate a Ritual Plate just made their pride worse.

    "Maybe it was how I was raised. At the orphanage we didn't have much time for fantasies of gallant knights of the air," I loudly mused as I went back to my Flight's table. "Maybe that was just a commoner thing."

    Refilling my mug, I turned away from the cadets. "Tell me, Baroness VioletBlood. You had a proper noble upbringing. And clocked in a good number of hours before you became a cadet. Did you have such fantasies?"

    "No, Ma'am. My training was on practical things that would improve my combat performance," VioletBlood stated, a sneer in her voice.

    I pointedly kept my back to the cadets as a couple murmured something about "jumped up provincials". Lavish was telling them to shut up. Interesting.

    Idly glancing at my staff, I let my tail swish. "Visha, what is the allowable penalty for insubordination?"

    "It ranges from loss of privileges, to loss of pay, time in the stockade, and flogging," she answered smartly.

    "Now... Cadet Optios. Will there still be chatter when I turn around?" I glanced back and just smiled.

    The hall went silent. I put my vine staff down at the table and walked towards them with just the cup. "You can call me a martinet. You can make all sorts of unkind words about my parentage, heritage, class, and upbringing. You could even do the same about my Flight. However-"

    I stopped before their seats. "If I hear such talk. If my Flight hears it. If the other instructors hear it. If you undermine my authority. If you go against the Imperatrix. I will bring the appropriate charges and punishments."

    I saw a few resentful faces and a couple that seemed disbelieving that someone like me could talk to them in such a way. DarkStar help me for being saddled with this assignment. I would rather be teaching a bunch of orphans, girls someone like my Duchess had discovered. At least they would be more likely to listen and learn.

    "Please, if you feel I am unfair do complain to my Squadron Commander, or the Commandant of the War College, escalate to House Legate AshRain herself for all I care. Or... I suppose you could whine to your mothers and then have such august personages take umbrage on your behalf.

    "I believe any of you willing to try such a thing will find the results... illuminating." I sipped my coffee. That took the fight out of most of them. It was a trivial bluff to call. Oh, I would get into trouble if I whipped the cadets without good cause on jumped-up charges, but as long as I had my paperwork in order, and could prove that the rod was indeed used to prevent spoilage... the higher ups would be happy enough.

    I chuckled. Like I would be so uncreative to merely flog a subordinate.

    "Now, if one of you is willing to take your grievances in a more direct and... honorable means. Then please note I will be obeying the letter of the military regulations with regard to duels. As the challenged party, I will get to pick the weapons used and I will endeavor to limit damage to any Legionary property."

    "But Primus, don't you own your Polyxo suit?" VioletBlood innocently asked.

    "Yes, yes I do." That was a bit of a bluff. While I still retained ownership of the suit, the Legions had replaced many of its components and paid for its regular maintenance and upgrades, to Mark 16, over the years. Still, as that wear and damage had happened while serving the House, I still retained ownership even if a considerable fraction of the suit was composed of parts different from those when I got it at my twelfth birthday.

    Despite all that, the Legions frowned on Ritual Plate duels. Suits were valuable, Pilots more so, and a duel was a way to lose combat strength without even fighting the enemy. It was a textbook example of honor resulting in a pointless waste.

    Now, the cadets were worried. It was one thing for a noble brat full of vim, vigor, and wounded pride to try to challenge me to a sword fight or some other tediousness. It was another to realize that they would be challenging against my strengths.

    After glancing at my mug, I looked around. "Am I clear?"

    The cadets nodded. Except for Lavish who looked thoughtful. "Question."

    "Yes?"

    "Ma'am, you're trying to dissuade us from a tendency towards one on one mid-air duels by, in part, using your own exceptional skill in such things. Is that correct?"

    I laughed. "Don't get me wrong. It's a valid skill-set, but it's only a part of what you have to know. And most of you are nowhere near as good as you think you are, but that we're even talking shows you all have promise."

    A small frown creased her face.

    I eased my stance. "Tell me, who is familiar with the Marzanna?"

    All their hands went up.

    I pointed to Pulivia who could write while talking and making eye contact with me. "It's the air superiority RP model House Elena uses."

    "And who is familiar with the first generation of the Marzanna? And why was it designed that way?"

    Lavish's eyes widened. I pointed to her.

    "It was intended to surpass our air superiority suit, the Harmonia. The Marzanna had exceptional maneuverability but was weak in protection and long range scrying. They were intended as 'duelists' to counter our suits."

    Good, she knew that much.

    "And they failed. When they were first deployed in number, on many of our off-world colonial fights with Elena, they did not perform well. Their combat losses were even worse than the times they fought us with their preceding model. All that money, time, and manpower for a suit that was somehow a step backwards? The whole line had to be revamped," I explained. "But do you know the real problem?"

    Lifting her hand, Lavish took the incentive. "Was it more than just their design limitations?"

    Taking a drink, I nodded. "Don't get me wrong. It did the Marzanna little good to have problems in protection, in scrying integration, and in communications. But those could, and were, fixed in their next generation. The real problems were one of doctrine and of the unintended consequences of training and Pilot mentality."

    I pointed to the daughter of the head of the Mason and Runewright Guild. "Elena Air doctrine is?"

    "They use golems, piloted craft and Ritual Plate. Much of their development is domestic, but they use a lot of Luxon designs as well." She blushed a bit, her purple skin darkening. I could tell she was explaining the background to buy herself more time to think.

    She got some of her composure back "Their air doctrine is similar to their overall doctrine. They like to complement small numbers of high mobility, sometimes low observable, high power units with larger numbers of slower, cheaper, but hard-hitting units. Sort of a hammer to anvil."

    Noticing that half of them were now taking notes, though some had to share copy books, I waggled a hand. "That is close enough for today. We will be going into the doctrines and more of all of the Great Houses. Now, consider: the first generation Marzanna were given to their Vanguard Strike units, specifically their most independent Pilots, the ones with the most skill in dog fighting. Who can see the problem?"

    "But they were given suits that matched their abilities." Lavish tilted her head. She blinked. "Wait, did a Great House really have to revamp a whole suit design because it encouraged Pilots to go off and try to fight us one on one?"

    I gave a small smirk. "It's not that simple, but consider your own actions. Consider the power and excitement you had when you first flew. Think of what it would be like to be in a suit more powerful, more agile than your hated enemy's best. And then the terror of finding out that your enemy has better training, unit tactics and scrying. That it does not matter how maneuverable your suit is when the enemy knows this and works to negate that advantage and without it you have... little else. Combat is unforgiving, as are its lessons."

    "That's why Elena had a harder time fixing their training than their suits?" Lavish asked.

    "Correct. First, consider the losses in skilled pilots. That represents a massive loss in institutional knowledge, not to mention to their families. There were issues affecting their entire House structure, and families. Making shifts in power. Even Elena has to bow to the reality of social dynamics."

    I stepped back to the table to refill my cup once again. I poured in silence to see if the cadets would dare to start whispering to each other. The sound of their pens at work was good to hear. They seemed to learn that much at least.

    "Second, this required them to redouble their efforts in trying to counter us. Remember, our enemy is trying to learn from us as much as we are trying to learn from them. And Elena thought they had a counter to our doctrine, a wonder weapon, in the Marzanna." I had to smile at that. I was certain that House BlackSky had their own versions of Schugel, but at least with my own deployments I was insulated from any mad scientists trying to make super Ritual Plate models.

    That did give me pause at one of my goals of moving to a more testing and evaluation role. "Elena learned from their mistakes. The refit Marzanna in the hands of a proper squadron of Pilots is formidable. There is a reason it is now their mainstay and has become an effective weapon system on par with Ziox's Tjardu and, yes, our Harmonia. It remains to be seen if their derivative design: the highly-veiled Volos will be worth the cost and represent a leap forward in capability.

    "It is some note that in the time House Elena has gone through three major variants of air superiority model, our House has continued to refine and improve the Harmonia. Our more conservative approach is due to us having far more Harmonia than House Elena has total Ritual Plate. Ritual Plate is just a portion of their tactical air power expenditures where it is the lion's share for us. The Harmonia represents a major training, logistical, and hardware investment. That is why we try to make our suits as modular as possible to allow for mid-life refits. I could go on."

    I put on a sympathetic expression. "Your performance today is not entirely your fault. Group training is hard and realistic training missions are not exciting nor glorious. Even ground support missions, while flashy, are very precise and tedious because you do not want to bombard our own troops.

    "You probably didn't get many private lessons on how to run a convoy escort. And few pre-cadets would spend eight hours of flight training on learning how to do a boring scouting mission where nothing might show up."

    "I did Primus," VioletBlood haughtily said.

    "Yes, so did I. But our tutors had a generous budget," I replied.

    The cadets bristled, but there were a few shamed-faced ones and more than a few with expressions full of poorly-concealed anger. Maybe not all at me; hopefully some of that spleen was directed at the instructors who had taught them what they wanted, exciting dogfights, and not what they had needed.

    "You should have been spending more time in a ballet troupe than trying to master one on one dog fighting," I absently noted and then took in their incredulity.

    "You are aware that precision acrobatic flying is an effort that requires great skill and teamwork?" VioletBlood archly asked. "It is more than just prancing about in sequins and using fireworks displays and glitter bombs."

    "Neither of which I recommend as ordnance." I gave a vicious little smile. "But if you want to get extra flight time to learn some intricate formation flying and more importantly how to function as part of a team, there are worse extra curricular activities."

    If I had to spend a years suffering as a ballerina then I could spread a bit of the pain around. As a bonus I was sincere about the increased training time being part of a troupe would give them. And at least a few of them did make a note of my recommendation.

    "You're all very privileged. Most pilots," I gestured to Visha and GreyDawn, "will not get nearly the suit time, the training time, you will all get. There will be an assumption of competency, that your time under my training will have actually improved you."

    I happily drank from my mug. "For my own sense of pride and professionalism, I will make you lot into something worthy of the Imperial Legions. Do not think of your mother's station, of your station. We are Legionaries. If some provincial commoner centurion gives you an order, you will obey.

    "And even if you make Volantes Centurion and, DarkStar-forbid, Volantes Primus Centurion, some Optio hoof-slogger will still be calling you in for air support. If you have a problem with that, you can join one of the shabbier mercenary guilds where you can play at war and have your servants polish the expensive toys you think of as war machines."

    I gave one of my most open smiles. "Remember what you swore when you agreed to join the Legions? That was a question." I pointed to the cadet next to Lavish.

    "I swear by the various gods and unbreakable oaths that I will follow my commander wherever she may lead me. I will obey orders enthusiastically and without question. I will relinquish the protection of BlackSkyvian civil law and accept the power of my commanders to put me to death without trial for disobedience or desertion," the ash-haired cadet recited, her prim voice halting at the last part.

    "Continue."

    She nodded. "I promise to serve under the standards for my allotted time of duty and not to leave before my commander discharges me. I will serve BlackSky faithfully, even at the cost of my life and respect the law with regard to civilians and my comrades."

    "These oaths are not idle boasts. There is some allowance for your status as cadets but," I spread my arms and then gestured towards myself. "Clearly, they still have weight on someone of my age, or yours. You can still resign if it's too much."

    I eyed them. "This is an open offer, consider my words and if you want to quit, talk with me in private. I will do my best by writing a letter of reference to your mother, mitigating the shame and endeavor to help put you in a position better suited to your talents."

    Lavish raised a hand. "Why would you do that?" she asked.

    "Incentives. Because an unfit pilot with too much pride to admit her failures, and too many connections to be drummed out, will get good people killed. I will take a social hit to prevent that from happening. There are plenty of jobs in the Legions and outside to support the House and Empire. And while a negative evaluation from me would ruin your career as a Legion Flier, forcing me to do that, against your will, will result in unnecessary turbulence." I exaggerated a bit. The Legions, and Fleet, had learned how to sideline incompetent nobles, but one way to do that was having a connected officer make a deal like this.

    "None of us want to quit," Lavish stated, her voice icy. "None of us are quitters."

    "We'll see," I amiably said. "I have some training ideas involving some Istarii Centurions." Visha gasped at that. I honestly didn't see what the big deal was.

    I continued. "If you make it into Legionary service, you will be protecting some group of hoof-sloggers. You'll either be providing direct fire support, escorting their transports, or keeping air superiority over their Operational Zones.

    I finished off my cup. "If that's not glamorous enough for you, you can always transfer to the Fleet. There you can spend your time guarding a giant gas bag full of ratings, officers, and explosives."

    I chuckled lightly at the deflated expressions from my cadets.

    "Either way, the expectation is that your life will be put at risk to keep others alive. And since the Imperatrix, in her wisdom, has seen fit to invest a considerable amount of time training, equipping, and having Centurions spend their precious time beating sense into you, BlackSky will get a return on her investment."

    Scanning the cadets, who seemed to have paused in their notes, I smiled and looked at a clock on the wall. "Good, now that that is all done. We will have a ten minute break. Stretch your wings, use the facilities, get your own notebooks. When you get back we'll have refreshments."

    The cadets' expressions were mostly wary.

    "When you get back, we will begin your debrief of today's training. Point by point. I'll also be giving you a breakdown on basic Flight level tactics." I sipped my coffee. "The clock is ticking; you should go now."

    They got up and most of them shuffled out to the door. I pointedly ignored the conversations that were starting up outside in the corridor. Pulivia took a moment to finish up her notes before exiting. Lavish was the last out. She hesitated by the door and then eventually left in a huff.

    I walked back to my Flight. "Well, I think that went well enough."

    "Sure, you might just make all sorts of new, exciting, and connected rivals," GreyDawn noted.

    "It's all part of the game. Coddling them would have ruined my reputation among the officers," I stated as Visha handed me some of the pastries SunShower had packed for me. I motioned for the others to help themselves. "And would have gotten a lot of good Legionaries killed."

    "And ruined your reputation among the troops," Visha noted.

    "And among the nobles who back the Legions and Fleet," VioletBlood added.

    "Both good points. No, the way to deal with a gaggle of spoiled nobles with flight armor is to try to beat some sense into them."

    GreyDawn's expression indicated she was trying to calculate the odds on that wager.

    "Should I go get the refreshments?" Visha asked.

    "I'll go with you. A walk to the college's canteen can do me some good," I rolled my shoulders. We had a lot to cover and not much time. As we left the lecture hall, I wondered how Quirinus was able to stay so resolutely unflappable.

    "At least this won't be as bad as the 203rd's training," Visha quietly stated once it was the two of us.

    Now that brought a smile to my face. "Don't worry, this time you're one of the instructors," I assured.

    End Chapter 16

    Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

    Special thanks to WrandmWaffles for the chapter title. And extra thanks to Readhead for going over this chapter and giving some extra polish.

    I've also got some great art pieces in the wings, both in "annoyed Tauria has to deal with her mother wanting her to dress nice" and "Tauria in her Ritual Plate" style.

    Update: Well this chapter didn't need much correcting, maybe I'm getting better. Or maybe I was at the end of this project
     
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    • Image: Reinhild SunShower and more Tauria suiting up.
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    • And now some art!

    We've got a piece of VioletBlood showing off Tauria's new maid




    The outfits aren't quite how things happened in the chapter, but there's plenty of time for them to dress up and for LoveBlood to tease her countess.


    Next we have a variant with Reinhild offering some advice to a nervous Tauria




    Now this one is another detailing of Ritual Plate. This time with Tauria having her suit checked out by her whole Ritualista team.



    Going counter clockwise from Optio Suzette Gibbs (upper left) we have: Flavia, Laurentia, and IvoryTail.
     
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    • Image: Duchess SilverFlight dressing up her Daughter
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    • I've got two pieces of a common theme for this story. Namely: Tauria's adoptive mother dresses her youngest daughter up in something frilly much to Tauria's chagrin.

    First we have a wonderful piece from Lexikimble (warning some possible risque content)



    Full Size


    And then from FieryJinx we have this amazing sequence (and this is one I really recommend looking at in full size to appreciate all the details and expressions.



    Full Size
     
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    • Tauria getting dresed by her other mom and some updates
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    • So a few updates:

    • Ch17 is progressing at about 3k words.
    • I have an omake for another Tanya cross that is at about the same length and some of you may enjoy that when it comes up.
    • I've also gone though an update, edit project for Little Demon, all the previous 16 chapters have been cleaned up and made a bit more readable with some typo and other corrections. So that'll make reading the story better.
    • And for the Return (a story set in the same world as this one) I've finally posted chapter 5 of Book 6 Bonding Allure which can be read here.
    • Finally there's some new art from PlayerError 404

    We've seen plenty of art of Duchess SilverFlight dressing her adoptive daughter up much to Tauria's frustration and annoyance. But we have not seen her other mother Sister Clementia indulge nearly as frequently. Here we see them sharing a memorial ceremony, I don't see why Tauria is so worried, this is a good sign!

     
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    • Chapter 17: Mandatory Mentoring, Rivals and Reunions.
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    • 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 17: Mandatory Mentoring, Rivals and Reunions.


    After she finally got my clothes squared away, SunShower switched her focus to my hair and wings. I patiently sat and let her work. "You are quite tense," my new maid noted.

    "Is it that obvious?"

    The kitsune glanced meaningfully at my tail, which hung stiffly with the tip curled down.

    "Fine."

    "I don't see why you're so worried." She put the hair brush down and fussed with the gem at my throat, adjusting it minutely one last time. "Is this truly any more stressful than your survival training?"

    "They're a pack of little spoiled brats," I said, not at all put-upon, "They're all going to pester me about my 'heroics'."

    "Dare I presume you're exaggerating, Ma'am?"

    I wanted to glare at my maid, but the angle wasn't right.

    Her ears pulled back slightly for a moment before springing back up. "You have expressed fondness for them in the past, after all..."

    I sighed. "Yes, yes, I know. I just need to endure their prattle; if I mouthed off at them and let them know what I really have to say about 'heroics', I'd never hear the end of it."

    "Their mothers would be quite upset."

    "And we wouldn't want that," I exhaled, forcing my irritation away. "How do I look?"

    "Like a princess," Reinhild assured me. Her tone was sickly-sweet, and I could see the way her eyes crinkled with amusement in the mirror.

    This time I did glare at her. The obstreperous maid remained entirely unquelled.

    I abandoned the glare as futile and stoically suffered through the indignity of being patted on the head.

    "At least my lady won't need to wear a habit or other novitiate accessories for this event," the kitsune offered.

    I sighed at the subtext. "Indeed not today. You have some lead time. The church attire must be ready when Mother visits next month; I am scheduled to go on a tour of local religious sites with her."

    "Very good, Ma'am. Everything for today is ready; your guests should be arriving shortly."

    Exhaling, I flexed my gloved hands and nodded to the door.

    In her own prim, purple, ruffled uniform, SunShower went a couple steps ahead of me as if to clear a path. By the murky technicalities of noble etiquette, she should have been a few steps behind me; if she had to be in front of me, then she should have been waving a censer, but that was frankly a line I wasn't willing to cross. Thankfully, burning incense was a bit too much pageantry for my older sister's tastes as well as my own. I didn't even chide SunShower for her minor breach of etiquette; at this point in my life, I was thankful for any amount of informality I could get away with.

    As we reached the top of the stairs, the correct place for a formal greeting, SunShower held up a hand and we waited in silence. I tried not to fidget with my gloves or pull at the waist of my clothes.

    "Are you sure the timing is correct?" I asked, breaking the quiet after a minute.

    Lilly, one of the mansion's senior maids, waited by the entryway down in the lobby with a coterie of three more household servants. She looked up at us, nodded, and held up two fingers that she twirled. before returning to her demure, hands-folded waiting pose.

    "See, they're nearly here," my kitsune assured. "It won't be too much longer, My Lady."

    "Yes... I think I can hear their vehicle now." I was fully aware that this was the only venue where I could plausibly receive my guests; my duchess's "townhouse" was my official residence in the capital, and receiving aristocratic guests anywhere but my official residence would constitute a dire insult. Still, I couldn't say I was comfortable with the imminent invasion of my home by a gaggle of little nobles barely above imps who all dreamed of being real Ritual Plate Pilots.

    "What about LoveBlood?" I asked, more to distract myself from the dire future that awaited me than out of curiosity. "Where is she?"

    "Alas, she is running a bit late. Getting Centurion Shadow dressed took longer than expected," SunShower explained, before falling silent as her ears rotated towards the entryway. I could hear the hooves on the exterior stairs as well.

    It was time. The guests had arrived at last.

    The grand doors opened and as Lilly and the rest of the maids greeted their guests with low bows, I put on my professional smile and began descending the stairs, carefully lifting my gown a few inches so I wouldn't tread upon the hem and send myself tumbling down in the full sight of my guests. The only thing more embarrassing than wearing such a frilly, sequined pink confection would be proving myself unable to walk in the damned thing.

    There was a sober moment as the new arrivals made their observances to the altar commemorating our fallen family members before, seemingly as one, a swarm of little broodlings in poofy party gowns all turned and looked up to me with a shout of "Aunty!" and "Countess!"

    My nieces, at least the youngest among them, had arrived.

    ++++++++++


    "Talia, get down from that tree!" I ordered. "You're going to ruin your dress!"

    The little broodling peered down at me from where she had sunk her claws into the trunk about twenty feet up. Her eyes were wide and luminous. "But I'm up high now!"

    Looking up at those big green eyes, I cursed myself for turning my back on her, and underestimating how fast children could climb at this age. For a moment, I considered asking a maid to bring me one of the groundskeeper's chainsaws, but the tree was tall enough that it might fall upon the house if cut.

    "Yes, that is the problem," I stated calmly. The buffet of snacks had only been a temporary attention-holder for my other nieces and now they were clustered around me in a swarm. Several maids were also in the backyard, all of whom were more than happy to leave this task to me.

    "How come she's allowed to climb?" One of the broodlings asked in a tone well past curious and deep into pouting territory. Worse, a few of the others were sidling over to the oak Talia had climbed as well as other trees in the glen.

    "She's not," I firmly replied. "Talia is being bad. She's too little."

    "I'm a big girl!" Talia pouted as her green wings flapped. "I fly."

    I really did not want to explain to ArgentShroud how I let her youngest daughter break her bones in a fall. At least the broodling had her tail wrapped around a branch, that probably gave her some stability.

    "Ma'am, I could help get her down safely," SunShower said, quietly appearing by my side.

    "You can climb?"

    "I am a fox."

    "True foxes can't climb trees."

    My maid gave me an amused look.

    And then the ground level broodlings all began gushing over her and, of course, immediately started squabbling over who got to pet her fluffy tails.

    "Girls!" I called in my command voice.

    As one they turned and looked up at me, their expressions petulant and covetous. Baby demons were disturbing, in an all too adorable way. They were vicious little predators with sharp claws and fangs, but because they were cute, at least biologically, older demons were wired to protect them. "Miss SunShower is my handmaiden, and if you want to play with her you will have to ask nicely and do what she says."

    There was some dissent but then the broodlings seemed almost hypnotized by the kitsune's swishing tails. Nodding my thanks to Reinhild, I stomped closer to the treed Talia.

    "Fluffy tail!" she cried.

    "You'll have to come down first." I was utterly calm.

    After shaking her head, Talia looked up and seemed to study the trunk above her.

    "No, don't climb any higher. Don't make me come up there."

    "But you'll get your pretty gown dirty and that's against the rules," she giggled.

    My wings spread out. "Don't make me get you down."

    "Oh?" She peered down at me. Her wings flexed a bit and her legs tensed. "You'll fly up?"

    That seemed to break the spell my kitsune had on the others.

    "Aunty's gonna fly?" many of them asked as they looked up to me. At least I was not the shortest person here. That was worth something.


    Talia looked down with a mad, challenging smirk and leapt.

    Wings snapping down, and my Zephyr helping, I accelerated up. Talia squealed seemingly with surprise, when her little wings spread out and she clumsily glided.

    I was nearly at her altitude and had reached out to grab the little terror when I felt the air spirits around my niece coalesce and with a giddy yell she tried to accelerate off.

    Adjusting my course for interception, I rushed forward just in time for, Talia to slam into my chest in an impact of lace, ruffles, and bows. Wrapping my arms securely around her, I trimmed my wings and went back towards the ground.

    "Again!" Talia cheered once my shoes returned to the ground

    "No, it's my turn!" Liata, her fraternal twin sister, demanded.

    "No, mine!" came the chorus of half a dozen other little voices.

    "You have your hands full," VioletBlood noted with obvious amusement as she strode up Visha by her side.

    Ah, so those were the gowns that had delayed them. I was jealous that Visha could wear a simple almost evening dress-style affair of elegant black and silver. VioletBlood was wearing a more elaborate gown in gold with lavender trim.

    Talia squirmed in my arms with her tail thrashing about as she tried to get comfortable.

    "No more climbing trees," I ordered my nieces.

    "But Talia got to climb!"

    "Life's not fair," I stated.

    Still in my arms, Talia smugly nodded along. To my horror, the broodlings all suddenly had incredibly calculating looks on their tiny adorable faces.

    "So, we need to be first to get away with it?" Liata, the apparent spokesdemon asked. What did I do to get saddled with little monsters too clever for their own good?

    "No." My tone was firm, but it was hard to be imposing while carrying a broodling.

    Worse, Talia had started imitating my body language and expressions, causing giggles among the rest of the broodlings.

    VioletBlood gave me a strained look, trying for gravely sympathetic. Her swishing tail betrayed her poorly hidden amusement. "I suppose this look does suit you."

    I glared.

    "Aunty Countess is best Aunty," Talia said.

    "Oh no...." I put her down. While my other sisters could handle that in good humor, it was risky to be seen as the "favorite".

    "Maybe you can tell them a story?" Visha offered.

    "Yes, war story!" "A bloody one!" "Where you chased down the enemy and ate them!"

    I twitched a bit at the bloodthirsty little war maniacs. Truly ,children were monsters in need of civilizing. Glancing over to LoveBlood did nothing to calm me; judging by her grin alone, she was just as bloodthirsty as the terrible twins themselves.

    "How about some lessons on finding, befriending, and training Zephyr?" I offered. "Especially since Talia found one."

    "Yay! Zephyr!" Talia cheered. The broodlings then turned to Talia and seemed to sniff the air as they circled around her with a mix of jealousy and cheer. For a moment I wondered if they were going to hug her or bite her; fortunately, it was the former.

    Nevertheless, I stood by to make sure none of them bit her, or clawed at her dress or pulled her hair. At least her dress hadn't been damaged climb or by her short flight.

    "The cake is nearly ready," SunShower quietly said by my side.

    "Oh good," I said, smiling glassily. My birthday had been three days ago, but this was as much for my family, or at least the younger part, to celebrate. I was less worried about being at the center of attention, and more at the idea of giving a lot of sugar to a veritable terror of broodlings. Yes, clowder is the collective noun for a group of us who were not immediate relatives, but terror was more fitting for ones the age of this particular subset of my nieces.

    "I caught a peek when we arrived; it's very impressive," Visha confided.

    "As long as we can last until ArgentShroud or Sam arrives," I murmured. At least no one had gotten hurt yet. In some ways broodlings were very robust and could bounce back from injuries, in other ways they were very fragile, something that still kept pediatrics as a major medical field.

    "Sam?"

    "Short for Samael," I explained before turning back to the broodlings. "How about we go to the gazebo and we can talk there?"

    The terror of broodlings watched and I managed to draw them deeper into the back yard to the small building that stood by a fish pond. The architecture was more of the blending of Baroque and Roman and the fish were not koi, but it was still vaguely familiar, a setting conceptually similar to the ornamental ponds of my first life.

    I stood with my back to the pond while the broodlings scrambled in, their dresses swooshing as they took seats in the gazebo.

    I clapped my hands. "Right, who here knows what a Zephyr is?"

    "We all do!" Talia cried.

    "Yeah, get to the good stuff!" one of her cousins yelled.

    I crossed my arms and tried to give them a stern look. That was a bit more difficult given the visible amusement that VioletBlood and Visha who were watching from the very back hadn't even pretended to hide. There would be, I decided, a reckoning later.

    "Fine," I paced a bit. I had to kill some time as the maids got the cake ready, and my nieces should be informed. "Zephyr are elemental kami. More than that, they are kami of the wind, of air. Do you know what that means?"

    The broodlings looked at me if I was being obtuse. "That they're spirits of air," Talia eventually stated.

    I sighed and idly pushed back one of the campaign ribbons Reinhild had pinned in my hair. "For them, the world is open and free. They care little for borders and the squabbling of the Diyu Houses. Few places are blocked to them. Everywhere there is air, there is some element of them," I waved a hand and idly flicked a gust of wind through my audience.

    "So?" A baby-faced purple-haired broodling pouted.

    I gave a crooked smile. "They are capricious and playful, mostly with short attention spans but amused at the schemes and folly of demon princesses and war mistresses. In short, a lot like you."

    "Is that why I got a Zephyr?" Talia tried to pet the wispy spirit that had curled around one of her wings.

    Liata watched with a jealous look caught between trying to pet the spirit herself and pouting.

    "In part. There are many kinds of air kami. And Zephyr rank among the more powerful when it comes to direct physical influence."

    "Well yeah, aunty! They can make us fly extra fast and push airships around." Liata tilted her head. "How big of an airship have you been on? Oh! Were you ever on a Celestial? Did you get to fly on the Imperatrix's airship?"

    I smiled. "No, but I did see a Celestial class lift an enemy submarine out of the ocean. A big set of claws came out the bottom and scooped it out." My simplified explanation was met with a very impressed bunch of broodlings.

    "Did you really get a vision from DarkStar that told you how to defeat the enemies?" a younger broodling with curly silver hair asked.

    I blinked. "Well, um... no?" That was a bit close to my past life.

    "You know like in the comics, Aunty!" she clarified enthusiastically.

    My tail certainly did not flail in confusion. I turned to VioletBlood; she still read many DarkStar comics. "I'm in the comics?"

    Another broodling interrupted first. She had short black hair. "Not the real ones but the fan-drawn ones in the back of the issues," she said with that mix of overwrought exasperation and enthusiasm only the very young could pull off.

    "I'm in doujinshi... zines?" I fumbled for the right term.

    "I don't know exactly those terms but... yes," VioletBlood nodded. "There's some good comics but nothing picked up by any of the broadsheets or major publications."

    "Maybe it's because you're still in active service?" Visha offered perhaps misreading my confused look.

    "I can get some if you want." VioletBlood then gave a wicked grin. "And maybe you can sign them for your fans," she said, gesturing to the broodlings who cheered.

    "Um... maybe," I exhaled. I knew religious figures and rites got commercialized but it was... odd to be an unwitting part of it, even peripherally. Maybe I could negotiate likeness rights? No maybe about that; one way or the other, I needed to confirm what I had control over, in regards to my presence in the media. I knew the Legions had been able to commission several propaganda pieces based on my combat actions, but that was different, since I'd carried out those actions while under Legion command. I would also have to see if the Church held any claim onto me, given my status in that organization.

    " Girls, any other questions?" I asked, turning my attention back to my audience.

    "Where do the Legions get all their Zephyr?" Talia asked then gestured to the one that seemed fascinated with the bells on her ponytail. "I can see pilots providing their own, but what about the Fleet?

    I smiled, it warmed my heart to see my family, adoptive as it may be, being concerned about logistics at such a young age. "That is an excellent question. Zephyr are in quite the demand, but it's not just producing them, they have to be trained and helped to grow in power and endurance. It's done in much the same way that the Legions will procure enough raptors or food animals."

    "They farm them?" Talia asked while the others giggled.

    "No, they contract out to farmers who raise them, obviously," Liata waspishly said before the two girls growled at each other.

    I held up a hand. "It's more like a ranch, but yes. There are certain regions that are especially fruitful in developing elemental kami, where Zephyr can quickly grow in awareness and ability, and where they can be more readily attracted."

    "Attracted? Like with wind chimes and pinwheels?"

    "As well as prisms, prayer wheels, whistles, and other things to attract the curiosity of a kami."

    "But I got one!" Talia cheered.

    "Yes, they sometimes get attracted to sensitive succubae," I eyed my niece. "Or ones they find entertaining."

    "Maybe if I climb higher I'll get more!"

    "No, we are doing story time," I stated.

    "Yeah," Liata whined. "You got yours, leave some Zephyr for the rest of us."

    "That's not a concern for you," I said, striving to intervene between the twins, "as I'll describe about how the air kami grow and mature, the bottleneck is not at finding-"

    "You're just jealous because you're too slow!" Talia stuck out her tongue and waved her tail. I noticed the other broodlings tensing and getting... eager?

    Liata's skin darkened to a purple as her wings flapped. "I am not!"

    "Are too! You can't even fly with those stubby-" Talia was cut off by her twin pouncing onto her. The two broodlings started scratching and biting as they tumbled along the floor of the gazebo, bits of lace flying everywhere.

    For horrified moment, I stood still, until I noticed there was no blood spraying out. Thank DarkStar for that. But judging by the yelling and the cheering from the other girls I had little time before they joined the fracas.

    "It's not your Zephyr!" Liata screamed as she pulled her sister's hair.

    "She found me!"

    "That's because you were up in a tree!"

    Pushing past the broodlings, I reached into the circle and picked up each sister by the scruff of their neck. Giving little growls they tried to scramble back at each other even as I pulled them apart. "Girls!"

    "She started it!" they said in perfect synchronicity and renewed their efforts to try to resume their tussle. Seeing their teeth flash, I strengthened my grip. I did not want to lose a finger today.

    "And what will your mother say?" I demanded as I had my own Zephyr push in both of their wings and reduce their angry flailing to more controllable struggles. I took care not to hurt them; I did not want to have to explain wounds to ArgentShroud.

    The two broodlings went from eye-flaring and hissing to pouting with shocking speed to looking adorable and forlorn. Their lips quivered and they gave me doleful expressions.

    "I'm not buying it," I flatly stated; it was obvious neither was sincere.

    "You're no fun, Auntie," Liata pouted.

    The broodlings around me echoed the sentiment. And I became acutely aware I was surrounded by tiny, hungry demons who were upset I had spoiled their fun. That they were dressed up in little party dresses was small comfort. It was a veneer of civilization.

    "Lilly, Reinhild is the cake ready?" I asked tiredly.

    And as one nearly a dozen sets of eyes went from me to the maids.

    The two maids, Kitsune and demonic, managed to keep their composure. Though I did note Miss SunShower maneuvered the dessert cart so that it was between her and the broodlings.

    "Girls!" I called in my command voice. That actually slowed the murder of broodlings a bit. "Form a line, let's be civilized about this."

    "Do you need any help?" Visha asked. VioletBlood standing next to her, made no such offer to help. Indeed, the baroness' tail swished with unconcealed amusement.

    "Do you have experience with broodlings?" I asked, then winced. Visha had many younger siblings; VioletBlood no longer had any siblings.


    "I have a younger cousin," VioletBlood said, peering at me, "and in my experience with LavenderFang, she gets very upset if you hold her up too long."

    After a moment, I dropped the two broodlings I had been carrying. That is to say, I carefully put them back down so their dresses wouldn't get any more damaged, and also used my Zephyr to keep them from falling too hard.

    Talia's spirit interacted with mine and briefly joined the other spirits. She had found a strong one.

    That was good for her right now, but that likely meant she could end up a Fleet Pilot or a Legion Flier. It would be her choice but with so many members of her immediate family... On the other wing, not everyone in my Duchess's family became a pilot. Maybe she could escape the cycle that consumed my adoptive family.

    And then she and her sister ran off to get cake. She had a few years before...

    VioletBlood stepped up to me. "What's wrong?"

    "Nothing!" I bristled.

    Stepping closer, Visha took my hand. "It's okay," she said, using the same voice someone would when calming an agitated dog. Which was odd, coming from her, I always thought she was more of a cat person.

    "I'm fine!" I assured her, my tail flicking. The girls had stopped fighting and were even eating their cake in peace. At least until the sugar high kicked in. Hopefully, there would not be any hair-pulling or biting. Though with the spike of avarice and jealousy I was feeling from.... wait.

    A pair of arms went over my wings and shoulders. "Is it them? You're still young," VioletBlood exclaimed as she pulled me into an embrace.

    Using my years of experience in ballet and as an aerial mage and pilot, I was utterly graceful in my motions and certainly did not fall backwards into the taller demon's arms. "That's not it, LoveBlood!"

    She smiled down at me. The serene look on her aristocratic lavender-tinged features was... off. At least her green eyes still burned with intensity. She hugged me tighter. "I can imagine a family event could be overwhelming, especially for girls in our position."

    Baroness VioletBlood smiled at Visha. "Victorious, can you be a dear and get us some refreshments? I'll hold onto our countess and make sure she doesn't get into trouble."

    I could pull out of the embrace, and I would have if not for a pair of very valid reasons. VioletBlood did make the situation less awkward by taking a seat in the gazebo which allowed me to sit while she still had her arms around me. As our Zephyr were getting along, I was loath to separate our air spirits and cause them any trauma.

    I was mindful with my tail, after all when we were cadets LoveBlood had proven sensitive to such things.

    "You don't need to be jealous," VioletBlood said, clearly trying to be soothing. She was not the most empathic of demons, but I gave her credit for making the attempt.

    "I'm not."

    "Really?" Her tone was playful. "Your mother is still the patron of many orphanages, and still helps give young girls Ritual Plate training. Ah, maybe you'll be helping her."

    "I do support the orphanage where I was raised, yes," I stated, evenly and in control. It was helpful, having some who I knew valued me close by. VioletBlood's presence helped me relax, even as she chattered on.

    Visha returned, balancing a platter laden with plates of cake, drinks, and silverware. She was a very competent aide and had become... more, somewhere along the way. For a moment, I worried she might be jealous at seeing VioletBlood acting so forward.

    But that momentary worry dissipated as her tail merrily swished, seeing us. "I made sure to get plenty before the little ones ate everything," she said as she perched next to us.

    VioletBlood snagged a plate of cake for herself I to share. She held the plate high over my head for a moment before lowering her arm down enough for me to grab the cake. It was a bit hard to eat while being cradled and, I had my pride, but the Black Forest chocolate cake was too tempting.

    "I do apologize for my girls," a smooth voice purred from somewhere nearby. "I hope the twins were not too much trouble."

    Holding a fluted glass, Lady Castellan ArgentShroud strode up to us on silvered hooves. She wore a grey bodice, a dark green jacket and a matching skirt that, while of very fine make, looked rather business-like for a family gathering. I wondered if she was handling some of mother's commercial interests today; perhaps a guild negotiation on the side of the get-together. On Diyu, guilds provided many social services including mutual-aide, collective bargaining, apprenticeships both for foundlings and adults, lending, and other benefits for members and their families.

    At least I hoped that was the reason ArgentShroud was not wearing a gown, because if business casual were acceptable to wear to this party, then I would have been cross.

    "Talia got her first Zephyr today," I stated, swallowing my bite of cake.

    A hint of regret crossed my older adoptive sister's face, but it was quickly followed by pride. "Oh? And at her age? Incredible!"

    "It's a strong one too," I noted, pushing aside the concerns I'd had. "She has potential."

    "Lovely," ArgentShroud stepped closer and bowed to Visha and VioletBlood. "Forgive my rudeness. It's always a pleasure to see you, Baroness VioletBlood and Volantes Centurion Shadow."

    "It's good that you could make it," Visha replied with a smile before gesturing to a vacant space on the gazebo's bench next to us. "Want to join us? There's plenty of room!"

    ArgentShroud sipped her drink. "Oh, I couldn't possibly get in the way of such a delightful display of affection."

    I blinked. Yes, I was sitting very close to my two Vs and yes, both had at least one arm around me. Some allowances had to be made for cake. "Well... " I looked at them imploringly.

    "It is a party," LoveBlood said, in the tone of one pointing out the obvious.

    I frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

    "And we have a bit of time before the sugar kicks in for the little ones," Visha added.

    "We don't have to keep you," I offered. "You should say hi to your girls."

    ArgentShroud gave a toothy smile. "Or, I could just call them here, couldn't I?"

    "They are your daughters," I allowed.

    My sister nodded as if that was a somehow insightful argument. "Liata, Talia," she announced, making her presence known to her cake-smeared offspring.

    "Mother!" The two girls squealed excitedly in stereo as the other broodlings turned to face us.

    ArgentShroud called out each and every one of the broodlings by name, which got rousing choruses of cheering "Other Aunty!" and "Aunt Argie! in reply.

    "Are you having a good time? Enjoying your cake?" My sister asked the clowder of little broodlings, who were seemingly torn between gamboling about as they ate and charging towards us.

    The air was positively electric with their energy. Dozens of eyes with pupils dilated wide open gleamed at us as their tails flicked about slashing through the air. I could see their muscles quivering with the sugar rush from clear across the gazebo.

    For some reason VioletBlood pulled me closer and Visha patted me on the head. I stewed impotently; I was not that worried, and I didn't require reassurance in the face of my unruly nieces! Though I could see how such a gesture would be reassuring.

    Sipping from her glass, ArgentShroud gave a beatific smile down at me. It sharpened as she looked up to her daughters and our nieces. "Girls, have you thanked your Aunty Tauria? Maybe she'd like a group hug?"

    My stomach dropped out as the murder of pint-sized broodlings with their big eyes focused on me with a vibrating hunger. And then as one they charged, plates and cups forgotten, quickly were collected by the attentive maids who saw an opportunity to reduce the eventual mess and exploited it to maximum effect.

    I was swarmed!

    Not only were my nieces cuddling but they were also clambering and squirming. "Hey! Stop biting! Don't eat my cake! No, don't use your claws to climb onto me! What's wrong with you?!"

    My stern gravitas was undercut by VioletBlood and Visha's giggling. Traitors! Did they not realize we were being overwhelmed by the clambering, purring, bewinged horde?

    "They're trying to be nice," ArgentShroud assured me unnecessarily as she intercepted the twins. "Talia, try not to bite or tear her dress."

    I frowned up at my sister as Talia nodded groggily before yawning. "But I got my Zephyr!" she announced as my sister picked her up.

    "Not fair!" Liata whined as her mother took her with her other arm. ArgentShroud reassured her soothingly and the twins managed not to bicker.

    It was a slight reduction in the load I was under, but I still had to deal with ten of the demons. However. the true horror of her sinister plan hit me as a whole terror of broodlings grew steadily more drowsy and heavy. If I could not extract myself soon I would be entombed by a pile of sleeping demons!

    I failed in my attempts to squirm free.

    But only because my perfidious maid put a giant fluffy cashmere blanket over all of us while the townhouse's staff brought out milk and other soporific refreshments. I was soon torn between upsetting my elder sister by waking up the broodlings or suffering with as much dignity as I could muster.


    ++++++++++


    While Silvana made common use of funiculars, there were some routes that did not require an inclined rail. Most prominent among these were the numerous blissfully flat lines that roughly followed the course of the Phlegethon river.

    Our journey took me, my Flight and each of our head Ritualista from the more central Silvana locations where we lived and worked near the War College to the massive Fleet and Legion bases east of the city. It was also the region that housed the considerable rail yards, factories, stock yards, warehouses, and dock yards that made Silvana one of the great centers of productivity on Diyu.

    Corresponding with the more working class demographics of the area, the buildings surrounding the tracks were increasingly variations of apartment blocks, row houses, or other forms of lower income housing. Notably, there was a lack of the kind of teeming tenements that frequently populated industrial areas. At least, a lack within our view from the train.

    The four Optios who headed each of our maintenance teams sat ahead of us in the train cabin. Gibbs, my crew chief, was engrossed in a pulp novel while two of her compatriots quietly chatted. The fourth was quite wisely catching a catnap.

    "Are you looking forward to visiting MuArc Amalgamated? Visha asked, in a bid to make small talk. Among their many subsidiaries and products, MuArc manufactured the Polyxo and the Harmonia.

    "Of course. It should be informative and hopefully we can help guide the next iteration of their display systems. As well as provide our input in regards to the various issues we've noted." I shrugged. "Maybe we will learn when they'll have production support for the next Gorgon Rig model."

    "And maybe we'll see some interesting things," VioletBlood sighed.

    I shrugged as I watched the city pass us by. It all seemed interesting to me, but I knew my opinions weren't always universally held.

    The baroness frowned at me.

    "I dare say our baroness is bored," GreyDawn glanced up from her paper.

    "There's nothing too interesting outside," VioletBlood sniffed.

    "It looks like a lot of buildings and people flying, there's even a few parks, churches, libraries and even businesses," Visha countered.

    VioletBlood gave her an indulgent smile. "Yes, it's fine for commoners."

    "You're not... wrong," I admitted. "They seem like rather nice places to live."

    "I've lived in worse," GreyDawn remarked.

    "When we first moved to Amber Island, my family lived in some apartments in Mourning that were a bit cramped," Visha added.

    "When it comes to slums and tenements, Silvana isn't that bad. It's bigger than Bovitar."

    "That's good," Visha optimistically said.

    "The Imperatrix, in her wisdom, has encouraged building codes to ensure a minimum quality for low income housing," VioletBlood piously stated.

    I lifted an eyebrow at her. There were several reasons for the lack of true slums; the Baroness had picked the most sycophantic.

    GreyDawn chuckled. "I'm surprised you didn't insist that the stalwart, industrious workers of our House, ennobled by labor, refused to live in substandard housing, and through the canny savings by those who know the value of an aureus and those who strive to improve their lot in life purchase quality homes."


    VioletBlood's tail flicked. "Well? Is that false?"

    "Eh, not always. With luck and good boots, anything is possible," GreyDawn's tone was very dry.

    "The Guilds, Churches, and Public Libraries help," Visha said. "My family were refugees who fled when Elena took over the island we lived on. Charity, support, and even some vocational training kept us afloat until we got back on our hooves."

    VioletBlood nodded along. "See, good work leads to good lives."

    "Which naturally meant the Guilds and Churches should be given more donations and support to continue their good work," GreyDawn cynically said.

    "I'm surprised no one's insisted that we refuse to live in fetid squalor due to our sensitive noses and empathic senses," I stated.

    "Well..." VioletBlood coughed and glanced around the train car; none of the other commuters seemed to be paying attention to us. Our Ritualista were also busy with their own conversation.

    "It may be true but.... you don't just say that, Countess. It's not like humans and the other species in the Empire could be packed into rotting apartments just because our kind were too good for outright slums."

    GreyDawn gave a long sigh. "You are a humanitarian, LoveBlood." She glanced over to the Ritualista who seemed to be pointedly ignoring their Volantes Centurions' conversations. Well maybe, Gibbs's book was just that engrossing. It was a wise move; when centurions, especially Pilots started talking, a wise Legionary would keep her horns down unless she wanted to catch being volunteered.

    "I'm trying to be nice!" VioletBlood stomped a foot.

    "A cynic would merely point out that property values are high enough in Silvana, and even the eastern lowlands, that the real slums would naturally be located outside the city," GreyDawn noted.

    VioletBlood sniffed. "What do you think, Countess?"

    "Personally? I think it's a combination of the above factors, and two you missed."

    "Those being?" Visha asked.

    "My pet theory involves something banal and boring: our fire codes." The others blinked at me. Maybe it was due to the historical biases in my first life, but I was aware of how strong cultural norms with respect to fire can be especially when there is a history of using inflammable building materials.

    Switching to a new page on her paper, GreyDawn made a thoughtful murmur

    "We have a populace that by dint of biology lives with a heightened risk of structural fire; after enough city-crippling fires, urban planning would eventually try to mitigate that," I said.

    VioletBlood pouted "I... suppose."

    I spread my hands. The baroness had been the one to suggest building codes at the start. "Other than appeals of nobility or honest labor or charity, I feel that Silvana's remarkably free of slums because such areas were horrific fire traps, especially when crammed full of people who all had access to pyromancy. It would not take many riots for the problem to self-correct."

    GreyDawn laughed. "And I thought I was cynical."

    "There is a related aspect. Much as how tenements can be at great risk of burning down, they can also be at great risk of generating spiritual trauma." I tapped my lips. "Both the to spirits of the people who live there and to any kami in the area."

    GreyDawn gave a begrudging shrug. "Well, if we cared so much about spiritual health, then the Great Houses should be far more reluctant to go to war. Your trauma can accumulate in a slum as easily as it can in a trench, if you get enough bad luck and violence."

    My mind flashed back to the Rhine Front. I suppose that was a difference: the trenches weren't intended to be long term habitations. "No argument here."

    "Our House is reasonable," VioletBlood sniffed. "The others just need to stop being so petty and aggressive, and then we'll have peace on Diyu."

    'They say the same about us," Visha idly pointed out.

    "But that's different!" The baroness hissed. "You should know this, Islander girl! Your family fled from Elena's aggression."

    GreyDawn gave a slow blink at the other noble pilot. "It was better when you were opining about how commoners lived."

    VioletBlood huffed and pointedly looked out the window.

    "Peace." My tone was less derisive than I had expected. "Humans can't manage it, what hope do we have? On Diyu the Great Houses will rise, fall, and fight."

    "Humans?" GreyDawn chuckled. "No, short of us, they're the most quarrelsome species, even by themselves they'll make enemies."

    VioletBlood showed remarkable restraint by not making a comment about humanity.

    "The train ride is nice," Visha offered.

    "At least there's no staff car or hoof-slogger acting as a chauffeur to deal with," GreyDawn noted after a few awkward moments of silence passed.

    "They're not that hard to sign out," Visha assured.

    "The facility is reasonably close to the station," I noted glancing out the window. We had just passed the baroque mass of the Downslope DarkStar Cathedral. And with the scaled gleaming copper dome of the Baha'i Faith's Shrine of Avnalis ahead of us, that meant we were nearing our stop. By this point, the train was running along an elevated track, which made street crossings far easier by eliminating at-grade intersections.

    "True, but if we had a Tribune..." GreyDawn trailed off.

    VioletBlood gave a small smile.

    "But we do not," I reminded. "And without such an august personage we can avoid a dog and pony show."

    "Instead, we merely have a noble bearer of the Preserver Crown who, in addition to making waves at the Imperial War College, has more indirect influence with MuArc than most Legion Fliers," VioletBlood idly noted.

    Smirking, GreyDawn's tail swished.

    "I don't have that much influence," I huffed.

    "But if they think you have the duchess's ear..." Visha delicately said as the train slowed around a curve.

    "Be that as it may, even someone with the power of Duchess SilverFlight, including her lands and commercial interests, pales before the might of an organization like MuArc Amalgamated."

    "While she can buy a squadron of RP suits..." VioletBlood pondered.

    "MuArc manufactures them by the Air Group," GreyDawn concluded.

    "On a quarterly basis at least while at max, peacetime, production," I noted. With a roughly forty percent market share, MuArc Amalgamated was House BlackSky's largest Ritual Plate manufacturer.

    Although, that statement was something of a simplification, as my Duchess was able to buy Ritual Plate out of personal funds without liquidating her primary assets. Besides, just because MuArc was able to purchase all the components and pay the artificers to assemble that many sets of Ritual Plate did not mean that they had an equivalent amount in liquid funding. The example was, however, illustrative of scale, especially given MuArc produced more than just Ritual Plate.

    In fact, most of their production was dedicated to the manufacture of components and subsystems which were sold to other conglomerates and trusts for installation in what were professionally termed as "weapons platforms".

    Instead of speeding up when the track straightened, the train continued to slow. There was a chime. "Next stop Hatheg Avenue. Next stop Hatheg Avenue. Please wait until the train has come to a complete stop before disembarking," the conductor said over the loudspeakers present in every passenger cabin.

    "Finally," VioletBlood said, immediately getting up and stretching her wings. In the process, she eared both a disapproving look from me for her flagrant rule breaking and a huff from GreyDawn as she batted the baroness's wing away from her face.

    There was a slight jostling as the train stopped, and then I stood and took up my valise. After making sure my Pilots hadn't left anything behind, I quickly walked to catch up to the Ritualista.

    '"Ma'am," Optio Gibbs said, acknowledging my presence; she carried her own case full of notes and reports.

    "Any concerns?"

    The stern-faced Ritualista gave me a patient look as we stepped off the train and onto the platform. "Not really. While this is my first time giving field reports to MuArc artificers about the Polyxo, I have reported to them about the Harmonia."

    I swallowed my slight embarrassment over my minor faux pas as we sidestepped to allow people board the train and to give my people a chance to collect themselves. The Harmonia was the other major Ritual Plate model manufactured by MuArc and made up the lion's share of their overall production. And given that about a third of BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate were Harmonia air superiority and interceptor suits, it was a critical defense asset.

    "Oh? Anything in particular?" I asked as I guided my small group around the crowds by swinging wide around the platform to the exit stairs. "I'd like to hear about your previous reporting sessions, especially if your experience can help with today's meetings."

    Gibbs gave a slight smile, taking my compliment. I was sincere. For every Polyxo advanced MuArc manufactured, they made nearly six Harmonia. Given the years it had taken to build up the number of Harmonia in service there was a wide variety of versions and marks. I could see MuArc wanting to increase the number of advanced multi-roles the Fleet and Legions purchased.

    "I was part of the group that transferred Legion Ritualista experience with the Mark Eighteen Harmonia back to MuArc."

    "Ah, the mid-life refit?" I asked, more for politeness's sake than authentic curiosity. On an annual basis, MuArc made a greater profit refurbishing and retrofitting the existing RP fleet than they did producing new suits. Not that every squadron was updated to the latest Mark Twenty-Five Harmonia, often it was sufficient, and cheaper, to go with an update to the venerable and common Mark Eighteen.

    She nodded. "The Legions may not operate very many Harmonia but we do have some unique perspectives on their care and repair."

    "Meaning you have to keep a suit flying from a maintenance bay carved out of a trench instead of on a nice airship."

    "As you say," Gibbs confirmed with a twinkle in her eye.

    "Anything with IBF's Tac Air?" I asked as we started going down the stairs to the street. The second largest RP manufacturer in the House, Imperial Blimp and Freight's Tactical Aviation Division made the Telephe strike suit, the Sarpedona ground attack model, and the Occultia broad-range scrying platform. Altogether, it came to a bit over a thirty percent market share of BlackSkyvian RP.

    Her tail gave a swish. "I'm a Legionary chief Ritualista, of course I've talked to them about issues with the Sarpedona. Mostly about targeting system integration. Helmet displays used to be far less intuitive, especially when separating-out ground clutter."

    "How did talking with them compare to MuArc?" I inquired as we stepped out onto the street. I was kicking myself, well, trying not to flagellate myself with my tail, for not speaking with her earlier. An experienced Optio like Gibbs was a wealth of institutional, and informal, information.

    There were still trees on both sides of the avenue which provided some shade, though their leaves were a bit of a paler shade of green. The air had a slightly metallic smell and when the breeze shifted one could tell we were near the stockyards.

    Gibbs looked a couple blocks down the avenue to the hulking complex that was MuArc's main Silvana Ritual Plate servicing plant, artificer enchantment clean-rooms, and system integration offices. The black-haired woman made a thoughtful murmur.

    "You can speak freely," I said, trying to sound reassuring.

    "Both are rather responsive. And keep in mind I only talked with IBF's Sarpedona designers."

    "As opposed to their Telephe and Occultia design teams?" I asked, simplifying slightly. Any major "weapon platform" development was a collection of teams many of which coordinated with teams in other companies and guilds.

    "Yes, Ma'am. The Legions don't use dedicated Strike Suits, nor do we have many Occultia, mostly relying on the Fleet for such support." From my crew-chief's slightly stiff tone, I could tell she harbored reservations about the Imperial Legions relying on the Household Fleet for much of our theater-scale scrying capability.

    "And the Fleet doesn't use very many Sarpedona," I mused.

    Gibbs agreed with me before pausing to talk to a couple of the other Ritualista and I took the moment to wave over GreyDawn who inclined her horns to me.

    "Maybe tell the Vs that they should have a quiet word with their crew chiefs, especially if they have any last minute words of experience," I said in a whisper.

    Sensibly choosing to walk under the shade of the trees, my senior Pilot chuckled. "Victorious gets along quite well with her Ritualista, but I see your meaning," she stated a hint of approval in her voice, though I could tell by the curl of her tail that she was also amused that I was suggesting such a thing now, practically on MuArc's doorstep.

    "Yes," I sighed, "we should have talked with them on the train instead of letting LoveBlood go on about how the common folk live."

    "As you say, Ma'am."

    Right, GreyDawn would have told me to keep a good relationship with my Ritualista. Better than what I thought I had with Optio Suzette Gibbs at least. I nodded to GreyDawn and she slowed her pace to spread the word to the rest of the flight.

    Gibbs approached me.

    "If the Sarpedona team is responsive to the Legionary Flier and Ritualista perspectives, then what about MuArc?" I inquired.

    "It's not quite like that, Ma'am," Gibbs demurred. "Yes, most of the Harmonia and Polyxo are used by the Fleet, but that's just because the fleet uses far more Ritual Plate than the Legions." She shrugged. "No, the problem is that MuArc has the Harmonia and the Polyxo."

    "Meaning?" I sniffed. I could smell a bit of incense in the air. I wondered how much of the stuff MuArc went through. It had to be comparable to the bulk lots the Legions and Fleet purchased.

    "They make the Harmonia Air Superiority Suit and the Polyxo Advanced Multi Role," she clarified with added emphasis.

    "Ah. They think they're too clever by half?" I had experience with that type of scientist. Even before Being X corrupted him, Schugel had been a man too enamored with the brilliance of his own designs to worry about such things as robustness or failure modes.

    "To a degree. Their designs are a bit more maintenance heavy."

    "Especially the Polyxo?"

    The Ritualista gave a fanged smile. "More than that, that capability encourages Fliers to be a bit more reckless with the hardware."

    "Understood, Optio."

    "This does mean they will push back more on critiques of balky components or complicated designs."

    "Which makes up a large part of the issues we're raising." One advantage of getting closer to the plant was that the smells of the stockyards and the slaughterhouses were fading. Though on Diyu there was less of a stigma. And butchers were a vaunted position, as they got plenty of meat and life energy. As working class neighborhoods went, this one was full of opportunities for craftswomen in skilled trades.

    "Why, yes, Ma'am." That sharp smile returned as we continued to walk past a set of office buildings as we neared an intersection. I glanced back to see that Visha and her Ritualista had made a quick stop to a sausage and fruit vendor that had set up on the sidewalk.

    "What about the Polydora? Does the Inter-House Mercantile Aviation Company have the same attitude?"

    Gibbs shook her head. "I have not talked with them as much, but it's a different culture."

    "They are the smallest of the big-three manufacturers," I noted. The Inter-House Mercantile Aviation Company had nearly a fifth of the House's production but gamely held on by making the humble Polydora multi-role and the very expensive Svalinna.

    "And once the Polyxo came out, they knew the Polydora would only be kept in service if they could keep costs down," Gibbs replied with a nod.

    "Really? Switching over to all Polyxo would be prohibitively costly." I pondered. "That'd reduce the number of multi-role squadrons by quite a lot."

    Gibbs bowed her horns to me. The light changed and we crossed the street. "But why have two separate lines of multi-role suits if there's not much of a price difference?"

    I had to agree to that. Most Great Houses only kept one multi-role model of Ritual Plate suit in front-line service. "So Mercantile Aviation's boffins, realizing they couldn't compete on performance, worked to compete on price?"

    "Which is more than the initial per-suit cost. Parts and refurbishment were also driven down to improve competitiveness." Gibbs shrugged. "Which pushed the other firms to increase their cost reduction programs, so presumably it will all even out in the end."

    "You sound so optimistic," I laughed. This close to the MuArc facility the office buildings had started to thin and across the street a collection of large warehouses and a freight yard squatted.

    "You've flown a Polyxo and a Polydora," Gibbs pointed out, "which do you prefer?"

    "The Polydora has its charms," Visha said as she came up and handed me a sausage in a sesame bun and a pear. She gave a similar set of treats to Gibbs from the bag her Ritualista carried before going to the rest of us.

    Gibbs eyed the pear as she, like myself, tried to juggle the food and our valises. "Does she know MuArc will be feeding us?"

    "Visha's instinct is to get food whenever it's available."

    "That is... sensible," Gibbs admitted before taking a bite of the sandwich.

    "The Mercantile Aviation also makes the Svalinna," I noted.

    Gibbs swallowed. "Yes, they have the expertise to build the high evocation power systems for its broad-range ward projectors. Rather vital for a defensive warding suit."

    "An interesting mix," I noted. The Polydora was a common budget suit, while the Svalinna was the most expensive and the second rarest suit. Requiring Pilots who were especially skilled with warding magic, a Svalinna was a major investment, but the capability to project a powerful if short-lived, ward shield that could intercept a missile barrage, protect an installation, or add more protection to Fleet assets was very often worth the trouble.

    "The also make the Lance emitters, flasks and power systems used in the Telephe and strike packages for multi-role suits. They may be in third place, but Mercantile Aviation has plenty of expertise and products."

    "Something about not underestimating someone because they're small?" I joked before taking a bite. The sausage was good. It might have been pork, but it was spiced and just savory enough to satisfy.

    Gibbs laughed. "Compared to the other Ritual Plate manufactures? They're still large enough, Ma'am."

    That was true; the roughly ten percent remainder of the Ritual Plate market was mostly smaller firms making the other main models under license as export versions or as extra industrial capacity.

    We finished the buns in silence as we got halfway to our destination. "We are only talking about the primary suit manufactures."

    "Ma'am," Gibbs agreed before biting into her pear.

    "What I mean is, the conglomerates who made the various weapons, power, navigation, scrying and other systems are a whole other intricate web. Similar to how Mercantile Aviation makes high evocation systems for suits manufactured by their competitors."

    "And IBF's Tactical Air Division makes the majority of RP scrying systems including the Gorgon Rig."

    "Whereas MuArc Amalgamated does a lot of the integration for the illusion magic of the display systems and the spirit sanctums and arcane power feeds for the Zephyr."

    "Correct, Ma'am. They acquired Visionary Enchanting a decade or so back and made it into a subsidiary; Visionary still makes much of our Veiling systems."

    "Just Ritual Plate? Or VTOL, lighter than air, and ground systems?"

    Gibbs gave a slight exhale. "I believe they work with Imperial Blimp and Freight for the large airframes, given how much the power increases with size."

    I nodded. Veiling roughly scaled with the square of an object's size, approximately based on the surface area that had to be cloaked in illusion. There was also a dramatic increase in the Veiling requirements if attempting to make an object blend in; active camouflage versus true invisibility. Whereas reducing such things as the arcane, and mundane, energy signatures increased with the cube of an object's size. Though the power output was the dominant factor.

    "I'm surprised there's that much crossover," I admitted. "An RP suit idling at min forward velocity used far less power than one at max dash velocity. And either paled next to the emissions of a VTOL or an airship."

    Gibbs made a non-committal grunt. "Maybe not for a Spatha Light VTOL. Though as always it's the smaller airframes that can be more reasonably made quiet. You do not see many low-observable Pugio Heavy VTOLs."

    Finishing the sausage, my tail swished in amusement. The idea of a full veil on a dropship that could transport tanks was absurd.

    "Though..." Gibbs paused and thought as she ate some more of her pear. "We both know which part of the Household Military makes use of such assets."

    "Especially the airships," I sighed. The basic kind of Veiling was near universal on airships, though that was little more than a system that made sure the hull's coloration roughly blended into the background. True invisibility was far more expensive, to the point that only a handful of Lua Light hulls had been converted to use it and the more numerous Kolibri Patrol and Venture Scouts were still considered to be specialized units. The visual signature was not the only part that needed to be managed for combat airships.

    "If you want to see the pinnacle of Visionary Enchanting work, all you have to do is ask," Gibbs noted.

    I thought back to Invidia, the snake from the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance. That intelligence outfit had found many uses for extremely hard to detect fleet assets capable of inter-dimensional travel. "I would prefer not to be roped into providing air support for some clandestine mission."

    Gibb's expression was approving. "Part of why Visionary was taken more or less intact; so much of their work is hush-hush."

    I looked at the looming edifice that was the MuArc facility's office complex. It was only three stories tall, but the offices spread out in two massive wings flanking the main entrance's lobby. Secrecy was important, but it was a question of knowing what to conceal, especially as that increased cost and time in a nonlinear fashion the more of a project was kept secret.

    "I don't think we'll be touching on anything too sensitive at today's meeting," I said as I enjoyed my pear. "Not like we're talking about comms, veiling, or scrying."

    "Other than your standard push to get more Gorgon Rigs," Gibbs smiled. "But no, we're not talking about the secret sauce to the precious widgets. But the tactical lessons on how to improve their systems are, if anything, more valuable."

    I gave the Optio a hard look. "Which is why we're talking about background and history now, and not on our presentations."

    "Ma'am," she noted with just enough respect to pass muster, before finishing her pear. Experienced subordinates were worth their weight in gold, unfortunately they knew that and they were experienced at being subordinates.

    I let the issue rest. I did not want my head Ritualista angry at me. She was a very experienced and valuable team member. And was my contact with the other fifteen Ritualista under my command and the so-called Optio Cartel of Legionaries in logistics, maintenance, security and other roles.

    GreyDawn was my old hand in the complex layered world of centurions which was a broad category of officer ranks in charge of everything between Centuries, Pilots, and vehicle Troops. However, below them was the world of Optio, Tesserarius, and Decanus ranks; those got things done by organizing the line hoof-sloggers.

    "Your presence is critical for this meeting," I noted. "You can do things I can't."

    "You don't think you'll be taken seriously?"

    "Quite the opposite." I found the pear to be crisp and delicious.

    "Ah, the propaganda and legend?"

    My tail flicked. "Yes, the whole Heroine Countess and her Bloody Baroness nonsense."

    "Surely once you show you actually know how a suit works you won't be patronized."

    I shrugged. "Maybe, but what if I attract the glad-handers and sycophants? What good is my knowledge if I get swamped by people who don't know how Ritual Plate works? You and the others can talk to the actual arcanists and designers."

    Gibbs smirked. "Ah, a very noble sacrifice on your part, Ma'am."

    "Very funny. I hope the dog and pony show part is quick, but if I have to fall on my sword to ensure this meeting isn't a waste of time, then so be it."

    Head cocked, she looked me up and down. "But you're not wearing your mother's sword."

    "I get enough of that from LoveBlood," I sighed as we were now passing the fences that surrounded the MuArc campus. In a world where flight was common, fences were used more to formally demarcate boundaries than serve as actual barriers. Teleportation, shape shifting, scrying, and other capabilities made securing facilities... challenging. The security staff that MuArc had on hand, mostly retired Legion, were the actual deterrent.

    "She has a point, Ma'am. It's like your crown, if you don't order it yourself, someone, likely your duchess will do it for you."

    My tail stilled. "You are not... wrong."

    As we neared the various entrances onto the MuArc Amalgamated campus, I looked back to make sure we had not lost anyone. Adjacent to the guard shack complex was an employee entrance with something that looked like a turnstile, a roadway with a lifting barrier, and a visitor entrance that led up to the squat building.

    There was also a painted and lighted crosswalk that went to a parking lot on the opposite side of the avenue. Given the car ownership rate in Silvana, and the rest of the House, it was surprisingly large, which showed the high pay rate the skilled laborers working for MuArc could demand. Which was right and proper, even if for many their guilds took a cut; after all retirement stipends and other benefits were paid by such dues. On the other wing, I felt the guilds themselves had too little competition amongst each other. On the hypothetical thirds wing, I was not here to reform labor relations.

    However, the parking lot did show that we could have driven here, if I was willing to check out a car from the War College motor pool. Though I would have needed GreyDawn, or someone else to drive. I did note with some irony that I was a Legion Flier but I did not have experience with a simple automobile.

    I appreciated that the guard shack, what was functionally a concrete pillbox, was dressed up slightly to look less aggressive and brutalist. Going under an archway in the fence my horns felt the tingle of quiescent wards.

    Well, that made sense. MuArc purchased plenty of ward emitters from Mercantile Aviation and would know how to construct, or simply order a large defensive system. Though fixed defenses would only be part of it. This was a facility that built Ritual Plate. And they employed many test pilots. Their security staff had to have at least a couple squadrons of Ritual Plate.

    The security was also important as the whole campus butted up to a Household Fleet base and they even shared some landing facilities, hangars and traffic control.

    "Name?" the blonde guard asked. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid and she wore a red tunic with black trim and pants. There were a few other security personnel in the shack, one of whom was at a scrying station.

    I kept in a little sigh. "Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust. My flight and Ritualista have an appointment with the Polyxo Enchantment Systems Integration team."

    The guard nodded and asked for my identification. I handed her over the leather billfold that contained my Imperial Legion paperwork, my library card, and my certificate of novitiate status in Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady.

    The blonde curled her lips and looked to her companion at the scrying station who nodded. She then motioned for me to step to the side and repeat the process with my companions.

    I could see a few areas with room for improvement in their security procedures, but overall I appreciated their caution. At least having a uniform and a title was not enough to get in. The gate slid back and the guard motioned that we could proceed.

    Once on the campus proper, the air had more of a hum and the scent of incense was somehow fresher. The smell of hot metal and the bitter caustic chemicals used for etching also tickled my nose. Still, the grounds were nice enough. I took some comfort in the simple design of landscaping.

    If the walk from the guard shack to the lobby had been full of lush gardens and indulgent fountains I would have been more worried about MuArc's priorities when it came to funding.

    The lobby was a cavernous affair with white-painted girders and sparkling tiled floors. Several hallways branched off of the lobby but they were all behind doors with security staff standing sentry. Numerous banners dangled from the ceiling as well as a variety of wind chimes.

    A small crowd of workers bustled in and out, along with a handful of other Legionaries and Fleet personnel. There was even a group of Fleet Pilots in their dress whites escorting a pair of dark-blue uniformed Alecton Navy Pilots.

    Our group had slowed as the Vs and many of the Ritualista stopped to inspect the displayed sets of Ritual Plate standing on plinths either side of the lobby. The display looked like it included all the major variants of the Polyxo and Harmonia as well as their predecessors, including a number of prototypes and arcane demonstrator models.

    Gibbs saw me briefly studying the bulkier lines of a Polyxo Mark 3. "It's a mock up," she noted.

    "Yes, obviously it's been stripped down, and all the armaments have been replaced by etched sheet metal formed to approximately the right dimensions and color, but the basic framework of the suit itself is original."

    My chief Ritualista shrugged. "I suppose keeping them here does amuse the local Zephyr."

    "And do they play in the suits?" Visha asked with glee.

    Gibbs gave her a gimlet stare and evaluated my wingwoman. "Yes, that's one of the reasons why the suits have been deactivated."

    "But they're still Ritual Plate suits. Or they were," Visha inspected the suit, her tail swishing. "I mean, these aren't sculptures made to look good in the lobby."

    Gibbs nodded.

    "Which means they have a thaumaturgical echo as Ritual Plate suits. The components that actually power the Zephyr and interface with our wings may be gone, but the gestalt still remains."

    "That is not incorrect," Gibbs grudgingly allowed.

    Visha brightened. "That must be very fun for the air spirits!"

    "It very much is," a perky voice chirped.

    I turned to see a prim woman with an emerald pageboy hairdo and short silver horns, hooves and tail. The membranes of her wings and tail fins were a shade of green just lighter than her hair. She wore a crimson ribbon tie, charcoal coat, dark pencil skirt with red pinstripes, and a matching bodice. Tattooed on her cheeks were a pair of silver vortexes.

    Her cheeks dimpled, she smiled at me and bowed her horns. "It's great to see you, Primus Centurion DiamondDust."

    "Artificer Melamed? Charmed. It's good to finally meet you in person."

    Asher Melamed's grin grew and she introduced herself to the others. "I'm looking forward to talking with you about your concerns and I know the rest of the team wants to talk to you."

    My tail slowed slightly. The whole team? That had to number dozens of people, far too many to have an actual useful back and forth. Though I suppose we could at least present our findings.

    Asher had an infectiously warm if adamantine disposition that had us going along with her. Literally, in that we followed her to a reception area where we got guest badges and then out of the lobby and through one of the security doors. She chatted happily with everyone though seemed to get along particularly well with Visha.

    "Did the itinerary change? I suppose we could do our presentation as a lecture. Will we be presenting in an amphitheater? Do you have a lectern with projection capabilities?" I inquired as we went down a long hallway with widely spaced doors on the walls.

    The artificer blinked. "Oh no, the itinerary is still the same. The plan is to have several meetings with different members of the team."

    I gave a slow nod. That seemed reasonable. "Sounds good, I look forward to a productive day."

    Melamed's smile was reassuring, but Gibbs gave me a cynical look while GreyDawn's tail flicked awkwardly.

    ++++++++++

    If not for the MuArc Amalgamated having decent coffee I would have been most cross. In concept, having separate meetings with a variety of the members of the Enchantment Systems Integration, Polyxo Division, would provide space for topic specific conversations where our concerns could be properly matched to the stakeholders who owned the specific issues at hand.

    Instead the multiple meetings proved to be a frustrating morass of institutionally diffuse responsibility. For three hours we went to various sub-teams: power management and heat bleed, runic design and engraving, life span and fatigue, controls and spirit binding, and component assembly.

    Each group agreed with our issues but would suggest that the ultimate responsibility was another group's. After the first couple fruitless meetings, I had my team split up to tackle more in an attempt to narrow things down.

    The only mitigating factors, other than the caffeine, was that Melamed seemed to be genuinely trying to assemble the correct people and that the designers and artificers we were talking to also wanted to help; they were just too hidebound by the rules of their institution.

    It was frustrating to deal with people so inflexible. I knew they'd implement whatever changes to fix our issues, if we presented them with forms to that effect signed by their supervisors.

    But now, things were better. At the very least, the people sitting around the polished wood table in the conference room could actually make these calls and knew what we were talking about.

    The room itself was a long rectangle with a dog-leg at one end. On the second story, a whole wall had a row of windows that overlooked an open manufacturing floor. The view was partially blocked by an overhead crane mechanism that was parked on one side, but it did give a view of a large receiving dock, a long line of machining stations, inspecting and testing jigs, and at the edges of the view were engraving and etching baths with their tanks of caustic fluids, containment runes in isolation circles, and various fire suppression equipment.

    I could not see any completed Ritual Plate from all the way up here, or even anything that looked remotely suit-like. Not that I had much focus on what was out through the windows. I had more interest in who we were talking with.

    Artificer Melamed was still here, for once not looking nervously apologetic. With her was a comfortable family-looking woman with long dark blue hair wearing a set of Pilot fatigues. It was no affectation; she had been flying just beforehand. Former Household Fleet, SwiftSapphire was MuArc's chief test pilot. She was also a key consultant and one of the approvers to modifications to production suit designs.

    She was wearing a flight suit because Melamed, in a show of foresight, had called her away from testing a prototype suit as soon as feasible. I was not sure what oversight had led to the original scheduling conflict.

    SwiftSapphire was an experienced lifer who I wanted to impress. Not just because her word carried a lot of weight among the Polyxo project team, but because, as a test pilot for a major Ritual Plate producer, she had my dream job.

    Sitting next to her was a sweetly-smiling, zaftig woman with curled horns and amber hair pulled in a messy braid. Glasses perched on her round face, although the impression of curving softness was somewhat marred by the set of harsh, almost spearing lines tattooed across her cheeks. The tattoos were the only indication that she was a weapons designer.

    If SwiftSapphire radiated a maternal rigor then Sophia Subiaco, evocation guild mistress, was a playful aunt. While her expertise was in evocation emitters, Mistress Subiaco was very familiar with high-powered and precision arcana systems and had a remit that crossed several teams. After she had attended the third meeting in the fruitless morning portion, she decided to simply tag along, much to Melamed's relief. Subiaco was one of the few people who could sign off on our work, but her abundance of caution had kept her from committing to anything as of yet.

    Rounding out this group was a rarity: a human. Mashiyat Ayyub was a mage. A bit more on the abstract end, he worked on integration and optimization. Much of the olive-skinned man's work lay in taking an existing schema and figuring out how to decrease manufacturing cost, reduce power bleed in operation and increase life span.

    Essentially, his work seemed like blend of using computational suites where spirits of intellect dwelled to come up with theoretical solutions and running small pre-production batches off to test those solutions on. Clean-shaven with a skinny tie over a grey waistcoat, and sporting a flat-top crew cut, Magus Ayyub looked little the part of a wizard's wizard, at least until you gazed into his cold blue eyes and spotted the badge of his own guild he wore on a chain from his waistcoat or the steel staff that flickered with the occasional rune as the crystals within fluoresced with minute changes in air pressure.

    Like Mistress Subiaco, he was skeptical of my proposals, but while originally invited he had declined to attend the earlier meetings. Apparently, he loathed meetings and had planned to spend the day in his laboratory. However, Mistress Subiaco's continued attendance as well as Chief Pilot SwiftSapphire's vote of confidence in us had piqued his interest sufficiently to earn his attendance.

    There were a few specialists and other experts who would float in and out, but this quartet made up the core of this improved batch of meetings.

    A sheaf of semi-translucent paper sat on the table. On it was a set of layered blueprints that depending on which page you were on could peel back the layers and subsystems of a Polyxo Mark 15.

    Upon seeing this visual aide, Wizard Ayyub gave Mistress Subiaco a dry look and summoned up a coherent display over the table that was a three-dimensional illusion of the suit. Subiaco returned with an indulgent smile and took out a grease pen to make a few notes on the hardcopy blueprints.

    "Okay, I think that's settled the lubrication issues on the upper vambrace gasket," Melamed stated as she made some notes.

    As a person-sized flight suit, Ritual Plate had a lot of moving parts, and the interior of the suit was designed to be pressurized to allow for operation at altitude. That meant there was a whole host of joints, seals, and gaskets. And that was just on the suit itself, while most of the arcane systems had fewer moving parts, they did require their own treatments. There were bigger seals and ones with more range of motion but because of that those seals had extra reinforcement. Though the vambrace problem would only happen under a specific set of circumstances. The fact that the mounting points for various weapons emitters and their feed lines went through that area still made it a notable concern.

    "I warned Purchasing that switching to that supplier would cause issues in cases of snapping from extreme humidity to high altitude," Magus Ayyub grumbled.

    "And they thought it was a lower order risk," Mistress Subiaco sipped her tea. "That, and the supplier's test data seemed solid."

    Ayyub just glared.

    "There's a reason a lot of field Ritualista will do a full seal swap, and if they can't justify that, clean and redo all the lubrication." Pilot SwiftSapphire eyed Optio Gibbs with a small grin. "Though, you'll be surprised at how fast parts wear out in the field and end up getting pulled early due to some surprise defect."

    "Ma'am," the Ritualista flatly stated. "We adhere to all maintenance protocols."

    "Including the ones allowing field expediency to maintain Pilot survivability." Shrugging, SwiftSapphire gestured to the report we had brought. "I'm not accusing you of slipshod work, Optio. Having a Primus who commissions a report like this indicates a centurion who knows what's important for her maintainers and what's not."

    I gave a small smile. The vote of confidence was helpful. I would need to see if I could arrange for a meeting with SwiftSapphire. Maybe GreyDawn, or even Reinhild, could figure out what her hobbies were.

    "If we can convince the tallymen that we're wasting money on a bunch of gaskets that get replaced anyway, then we could try to go back to the old supplier." Magus Ayyub frowned. Fiscally, suit maintenance was... complicated. Depending on when something was replaced, and why, a lot of the labor and parts could be charged back to MuArc.

    "What if the new supplier goes with a better grade lubricant?" Subiaco asked.

    Ayyub, Melamed, and the Ritualista grimaced. "That would require recertification," Melamed admitted, her sunny disposition cracking. "Which would take time."

    "And to think you gave up flying for this," Wizard Ayyub joked to SwiftSapphire before he ate some of the cheese he'd taken from the refreshments arrayed on a side table.

    "Eh, I was just doing some energy distribution testing on the Pinnacle's maneuvering and Zephyr power array," the Pilot shrugged.

    "The Pinnacle is your arcane demonstrator?" VioletBlood asked.

    "It's a test rig," SwiftSapphire sipped coffee that looked just as thick as Fleet issue. MuArc had better coffee; it had to be her preference.

    "Still, it must be exciting. Are there improvements in maneuverability and speed? What subsystems?" the baroness eagerly asked, making her presence known. I managed to keep from wincing. Was she trying to help me with my goals? Or was this networking on her own.

    "That's a bit beyond today's discussion. But later we can give you some brochures and test footage." SwiftSapphire gave her an indulgent smile, as if she were talking to a broodling.

    "The Pinnacle is also refitted every few months, I don't think it's been armed in a year." Ayyub noted.

    "We did some live fire calibration testing with a new scrying system six months ago," SwiftSapphire corrected.

    "Oh, but, still, it's cutting edge," VioletBlood insisted, more to herself than anyone else.

    "Which is why it's a hangar queen that requires a dozen Ritualista and can fly a couple times a week." The pilot ate a strawberry. "Well, I exaggerate, slightly. A lot of that maintenance work is to keep the telemetry systems operating, and we have a slower tempo because all the data collected with each test needs to be analyzed."

    "But enough about experimental rigs," Melamed was all smiles. "Optio Gibbs, I believe you have some questions about the starboard flight stabilizer array?"

    As Gibbs paged through her notes Visha flipped to the relevant section on the blueprints and Ayyub similarly adjusted the illusion he had cast. "There is a type 44-C Amplification rune on the starboard flight stabilizer array but not on the left. What is it there for?"

    "The manual says it's for an auxiliary power unit, but that's actually what the type 60-A rune closer to the array's feed-line does," Visha's chief Ritualista noted.

    The MuArc employees were a mix of confused and perplexed at this revelation and leaned over the various diagrams of the arcane energies as they went through the details of that array.

    After half a minute, Melamed gave a frown. "We are not sure."

    I managed to keep my composure. Ritual Plate was massively complicated, and even if these people had been on the original design team, which not all of them were, it would be unreasonable to expect them to know every component by heart."

    "What would the Type 44-C do here? I've only seen them used in scrying systems where very carefully regulated power needs to be supplied to receivers."

    Mistress Subiaco, the evocation specialist, had a thoughtful frown as she studied the blueprints and then pulled a manual and some other documentation up.

    "We don't know," Wizard Ayyub frowned.

    My concern increased slightly. "Can we have that as an action to figure it out?" I diplomatically asked.

    A bit of his gruffness fading, Ayyub nodded. "We can add it to the list of the parts to pull in the next iteration of the Polyxo. What pointed you to this? Was it a parts survey? Or did the amplifier fail and cause the stabilizer array to fault?"

    "I was rebuilding both stabilizer arrays after combat damage and noted the differences. They're not identical, mirroring aside, there are things like the port array being a bit smaller to accommodate the hydration tubes passing through, but even accounting for all that, there's still some differences," Gibbs stated.

    Right, that was when I had been shot up over the jungle... or was it after the sea engagement? I had seen more flippant weapons developers, but it was still concerning that, when shown something they had no idea about, an inflight system they had been producing for years no less, they treated the issue more as an interesting puzzle to solve than a horrific oversight to immediately correct. Though... it's not like the issue was big enough for me to kick it up to Quirinus and her superiors to demand an immediate investigation.

    GreyDawn's innate cynicism seemed to keep her from being surprised, meanwhile VioletBlood was pouting and Visha, ever the optimist, looked hopeful.

    "We appreciate your patience," Melamed tried to be cheery while her companions began to converse amongst themselves.

    "Asher, it's not the first time a suit was stuffed with extra parts it didn't need," SwiftSapphire noted. "On the Mark 18 retrofit project we found a bunch of things in the Harmonia that, due to being out of spec or installed incorrectly, ended up being used for different, unintended functions."

    "Yes, development's idea of a secondary warding power system ended up being used as a backup Ballista energy feed. Component integration and project team simply changed the manual and swapped a few lines and called it good," Ayyub sighed as he pushed his notes over to Mistress Subiaco who smiled.

    "And that worked, until the retrofit exposed all those issues and the patchwork fixes." SwiftSapphire shook her head.

    "Ah! That's what it's there for!" the evocation mistress cheered.

    We turned to her with interest.

    "This Type 44 Amplifier was originally planned as an auxiliary power supply, but later design iterations replaced that role with a component that had greater throughput and less precision," Mistress Sophia Subiaco said as she paged through a thick binder. "Now, you'll be saying that we all know that, so why was it retained? Well look at this."

    The arcanist pulled out a picture of the starboard flight stabilizer array. However, unlike the depictions in the blueprints it was not an abstracted diagram showing the various components and their links. Rather, it provided the actual physical layout of the array.

    Gibbs tilted her head, frowning minutely.

    Ayyub rotated the blueprint ninety degrees and grunted.

    "See! The 44 is on a cantilevered section of the array's substrate right between these two support pads. I don't know about you but it looks an awful lot like a strain gauge. Especially if it's energized."

    "Yes, but the positioning gyroscopes and load gauges are lower in the stabilizer arrays. This is just a... vestigial component, it doesn't do anything," Melamed frowned as if unsure of her own words.

    SwiftSapphire and Visha gave a long blink. "But it can be used?" the test pilot asked.

    "That's my theory! I'll have to dig into the design documentation of this iteration but I think we're seeing the legacy of a sort of... calibration system."

    "Well someone's using it," Gibbs stated. "There's enough wear on that Type 44 to indicate use."

    "Are the Zephyr using it?" Visha asked.

    The room grew silent for a moment as we all pondered that.

    Ayyub laughed. "Figures they'd play with something in the suit. Like putting in a wind chime, or a hollow orb full of beads." The wizard stroked his beard. "But... "

    "Are they playing or working?" I asked. "Air spirits are clever. They can intuit a lot of the inputs and instrument feedback."

    Gibbs sighed. "I suppose this means we can't simply yank them out of the array? I would hate to deprive the Zephyr from their fun," she stated utterly deadpan.

    "It does explain how we've gone through over a dozen production iterations without anyone else deleting this component," Ayyub stated as if he was personally affronted that some aspect of the Polyxo design had escaped his notice over the years.

    "We'll have to spin up a project to examine what happens with and without the Type 44. Though, if this is helping the suit's performance then we could try to formalize it and make it work even better," Melamed brightly said.

    "It wouldn't be the first time we lucked into an elegant design solution," SwiftSapphire snorted. The test Pilot then glanced over at us, the active Legionary Fliers. "You didn't hear that."

    "We did not," I agreed. Hopefully, this bit of professional courtesy would help purchase a little good will from MuArc's team, and it would help my future goals to be on good terms with a test pilot.

    "Next item then?" Melamed looked down at our list. "Ah, issues with the tool access working inside the sabaton support struts."

    My interest rose as I sipped my coffee. Not just because Gibbs complained about the poor angles the access hatches gave and I was eager to hear the end of that particular bellyache, but also because I was suddenly filled with the slender hope that a redesign of the Polyxo's boots could lead to something a bit more practical to walk around in.

    "Is this due to a structural issue or something with the layout?" SwiftSapphire asked as the diagrams and blueprints zoomed to focus on the suit's lower legs.

    There was a knock on the door.

    Puzzled, Melamed stood up and let a woman with long white hair into the room. Just like Melamed, the new arrival wore red-accented business-wear. "Apologies," she bowed her horns. "But we have a pair of visitors in the lobby."

    "Oh?" Melamed asked.

    "Yes, a pair of Optio- I'm sorry Cadet Optio Legionaries. They say they're part of Countess DiamondDust's party." the receptionist shrugged. "They were quite insistent on the countess part."

    I tried not to sigh as the collective attention of the room focused on me. "Tell me, did one of them have pink hair and emphasize her family name?"

    Tail flicking, the white-haired woman nodded. "Yes, she did mention that she was Lavish RoseTalon of the Belum RoseTalons."

    "I didn't realize you had additional people visiting us," Melamed said diplomatically.

    "I did not." Standing, I momentarily wished my vinewood discipline staff was close at hand. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go and determine if my... subordinates, somehow, have a valid reason to be here or if I need to provide correction."

    ++++++++++

    The banners fluttered angrily as I entered the lobby. As my tail flicked from side to side, I spotted RoseTalon's distinctive pink hair, long enough to just barely brush the collar of her tailored cadet uniform. She was not alone. In addition to a fawning MuArc secretary, another one of my cadets stood beside the vexsome noble.

    A disappointed noise may have escaped my lip as I identified RoseTalon's companion. Pulivia was one of the more promising students in my class. She knew the right questions to ask, and more importantly was capable of putting her ego aside while in the air.

    The wind at my back and my boots clicking on the tile floor, I strode up to the trio who stood examining the line of earlier Polyxo variants on display.

    "What has brought two so very promising Optio cadets such as yourselves so far away from your busy studies this fine afternoon? And whatever bought you to visit our fine friends at MuArc Amalgamated today of all days?" I asked archly.

    Pulivia lowered her gaze as if she could hide behind her jade green bangs. Lavish, on the other hand, adopted the confused yet affronted expression I found so common among a certain type of noble utterly lacking in mental agility. "I'm here to help!" she sniffed.

    I? Not we? Fascinating. I stared the heir of the RoseTalon family down before giving Meritus Pulivia a fractionally less harsh look. Pulivia looked visibly hurt by the possibly inadvertent exclusion. I wondered why RoseTalon had even bothered dragging her along.

    "Help." My tone was not acidic, mocking, or even sarcastic; it was simply dismissive. "That is why you were several hours late?"

    "Nothing gets accomplished in the first few hours at meetings like this," Lavish scoffed.

    That the senator's daughter was correct in that particular was the proverbial straw that pushed me over the tipping point and into outright, if still controlled, anger. Before I could begin the tongue-lashing Lavish so richly served, I noticed, something about her statement had made the other cadet, Pulivia, frown. How interesting...

    The MuArc secretary, correctly reading the mood of the conversation, picked up the tray of refreshments and quietly stepped back to the reception desk. Quite the wise move on her part.

    "Cadets, what do you think your role here is, exactly?" I managed not to hiss through my teeth.

    I also somehow resisted the impulse to rip the patronizing, smug expression from Lavish's face along with her oh-so-carefully pampered hide. "Countess, I do have a special perspective on high level negotiations such as these."

    "Ah, I see there are some severe errors in your understanding of your current role in our House's service." My smile was all fangs. "First, allow me to say that I am skeptical as to what actual experience you have with such events, other than being feted as a pretty up and coming bauble by sycophants eager to suck... well let us simply say suck up to a Senator."

    Lavish's cheeks flushed purple. Normally I eschewed crude speech, but I was a Legionary Flier and my DarkStar-cursed reputation gave me more latitude. I held up a finger cutting off any angry retort either cadet might be foolish enough to make.

    "Either way, even if you two had some insight into such negotiations, the sensible course of action would have been to bring them to my attention beforehand. Then I would have been able to decide what to do with your information, as well as with the both of you."

    Pulivia almost looked like she wanted to hide behind her wings. Though I suppose the strong breeze in the lobby was not helping. Then her curiosity got the better of her. "Ma'am... What is the second part?"

    My tail flicked. "Ah yes. The first problem was the assumptions about your knowledge and the utter incompetence displayed when you attempted to leverage that presumed information. The second problem is a fundamental misunderstanding of what this meeting is about and whom I am meeting."

    "You're meeting with movers and shakers in MuArc," Lavish stated confidently, glaring insolently back at me.

    "And even a test pilot, one of the Pinnacle fliers," Pulivia added, more timidly and with less of a confrontational air.

    My eyes smoldered and it took effort to not set anything aflame. "Today's itinerary," I ground out, "consists of presentations and discussions with a list of concerns and lessons learnt from field service. This is not just my own work, not just my squadron's time in the jungles, or even the experiences of all of the units who served in that whole theater, but is indeed collected from Polyxo users and maintainers from across the Legions."

    "Then this meeting is very important!" Lavish rallied. "Therefore I must respectfully insist that my skills are vital for such a-"

    With the blade of my hand, I cut her off. "Cadet, you are under the mistaken belief that important equals glamorous. Let me assure you that in the Imperial Legions that is a dangerous assumption to make."

    "The prototype?" Pulivia asked hesitantly.

    "We're not here to see some arcana testbed. We're talking about gaskets, and extra parts in flight stabilizers." I gave the jade-haired cadet my full attention. "Why are you here? Are you trying to impress me with your family connections as well."

    "I asked her here," Lavish interrupted, her tail straightened and pointed to the ground like a spear. "Ma'am, that is I ordered her to drive me."

    "She was your ride? Oh, do explain." I slowly enunciated as I kept my ire up. I wanted to throttle the young RoseTalon, but having the sense and esprit de corps to not sell out a fellow was a virtue. And not quite the vainglorious sacrifice she doubtless dreamed of making.

    "Cadet Pulivia has a Mammon Motors Hornet and since I did not have my own car, nor access to the staff motor pool, I pressured her into driving me," Lavish explained, straight-backed, stiff tailed.

    The Hornet was a speedy little coupe, and Mammon Motors had a reputation as reliable if rather upscale cars. Not exactly what a darling of society would be driving around in, however.

    My gaze flicked to Pulivia who nodded. "My older sister picked up a used one for my birthday last year and helped me repair, detail, and repaint it. It was a fun project," she admitted.

    "Frugal, family-bonding, and learning skills all in a single project. Well done." I gave a brief bow of my horns. A spike of worry and... jealousy came off of Lavish.

    "You, on the other hand," I began, turning back to RoseTalon, "have shown that you are in possession of dangerous amount of free time coupled with a lack of... refinement in your judgment about how to use that ever scarce resource."

    "Countess, um... Ma'am, Lavish did have a personal reason for the suddenness of our arrival," Pulivia said, her words coming out in a tumble. "She did not plan to, ah, well... just crash the meeting and to be so late, but events beyond her control came up."

    Lavish's eyes narrowed and she stared at the other noble brat. "What are you doing?" she hissed

    Pulivia crossed her arms. "You insisted that I pick you up early this morning, but instead of leaving promptly you spent four hours with your little sister."

    The color drained from Lavish's face. "Leave her out of this."

    I put a hand to the base of my left horn. "Is this family drama germane to your poor life choices? Please be aware that I am still considering exactly what your punishments will be."

    Assuming a confident and amenable expression, Lavish bowed her head. "Perhaps we have taken enough of your time, Ma'am. We can, of course, receive our discipline at your convenience."

    "At my convenience?" I flexed my hand. "Oh, it's too late for that. You brought me down here, Cadet. Perhaps you should have simply spent the day with your little sister."

    "Leilah would have been happier with that," Lavish admitted.

    "I thought she wanted a test pilot's autograph?" Pulivia asked.

    Lavish's tail twitched.

    I gave a slight grin. "Broodlings can be like that. My nieces would be just as enthusiastic, but we're older and more mature than them. Or at least, we're supposed to be."

    Both cadets stared at me. Lavish hesitated for a moment but then simply nodded.

    "I know, I don't exactly act my age." My tone was a bit disarming. I cursed my gregarious nature trying to put them at ease. I was going to punish these cadets. I had already spent too much time indulging them in conversation.

    "And Leilah is sort of the opposite," Lavish noted bitterly.

    "She's a very sweet sister, I had a great time with her this morning and-" Pulivia's encouraging tone curdled off when Lavish glared with something new, a powerful protective urge.

    I held up a hand. "This isn't about your sister, I'm sure she's a lovely young broodling."

    "She's older than you," Lavish snapped. "Her orphanage was not quite so well appointed," the heiress' tone was hard and sharp, the pure prim diction of someone leaning on elocution lessons for self control.

    My tail slowed. Ah. That did explain the "opposite" comment. With time, food, energy, and treatment our bodies can heal most any physical wound. Unsurprisingly, this did little to temper my kind's cultural arrogance. And it also meant that we did not like to dwell on the non-physical wounds that we had trouble healing. Oh, we had plenty of support, especially in the Fleet and Legions for those with trauma accumulation, and empathy and psionics provided excellent diagnostic tools and in some cases direct treatment.

    But it was known what most medical discharges were for psychological traumas.

    It was also true that Fleet Sailors and Legion Troopers were not the only ones to suffer from trauma accumulation. Most of pediatric psychology consisted of trying to ameliorate damage sustained by broodlings who had endured a variety of horrifying traumas. If Mother Clementia had not been there for me.... and I was one of the lucky ones given My Duchess's support.

    "I did not know your mother was a patron of the orphanage system as well," I observed, keeping my tone even. I was still upset with these bumbling cadets, but I was unsure why such personal topics had come up.

    "She had it shut down for gross abuses, and did what she could for the girls who couldn't get adopted or transferred to... better institutions, ones like yours," Lavish's tone was frosty. "But she loves Leilah; we all do."

    I gave a tiny bow of my horns. I did not know Senator RoseTalon, and I had only met one of her daughters. Perhaps Lavish was covering for her mother adopting an orphan as some way to signal her compassion, perhaps it was sincere love. Or maybe Lavish had such ire because she knew her mother's heart. However, it seemed no coincidence that Lavish had her... issues with noble orphans such as myself and VioletBlood.

    "Maybe we can talk about....." Pulivia's tail straightened.

    "Your punishment?" Flashing my fangs, I rallied, glad to be on stronger ground. "I have mentioned it before, but given you have too much time on your claws, and since you obviously want to improve, perhaps you should join the War College Ballet Troupe. They have stage performance and precision team flying. I know that young, and young at heart, demons do find it thrilling."

    Lavish managed not to snort in amusement. Which was good because that lack of respect would have added to her punishment.

    "Now for your punishment." Tail swishing, I clasped my hands behind my back. "Tomorrow you will report to Optio Gibbs. You will request a set of diagnostic tools and you will accept the equipment she gives you."

    The two cadets wisely held their tongues.

    "Working together, you will complete a full takedown of your Polydora trainers. I expect a full subsystem power trace. You will compare your findings with the maintenance logs."

    The two stared. Pulivia winced while the Senator's daughter gawked. "That... is very involved, Ma'am," Pulivia allowed. That was an understatement. Even a full Ritualista team would find that to be a full shift of effort.

    "You wanted to help," I smiled in return, "and to show your value, did you not? You wanted to prove that you deserve to attend meetings like this."

    Lavish glanced around and nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. It will be done."

    "Good," I said brightly. "Because that is only the first part of your punishment. Once your analysis is complete, I expect you to present your findings, methodology, and lessons learnt to the rest of the cadet squadron, and to submit a formal report to the War College."

    Pulivia gave a thoughtful nod while Lavish frowned.

    "If you want to become Legion Fliers then you will need to be capable of your own research and then disseminating your findings. Information is power, but it is useless if it is not cataloged and used to teach."

    Lavish looked like she was about to speak but Pulivia took her hand and shook her head.

    I chuckled. Let Lavish think she was getting off easy. Giving my cadets more of their own coursework would make my job easier. "You can go now. Dismissed."

    Their relief was amusing as they saluted and made for the lobby's exit,

    "Oh, Cadet RoseTalon, when I get back to the meeting I will ask if SwiftSapphire can autograph something, for Leilah."

    Tail flicking, Lavish stopped after a moment she bowed her horns to me. And then the two cadets were gone and I could get back to my work. The banners had finally started to calm down.

    ++++++++++

    This life was one of penance.

    I had been born into a world where our natures as fallen creatures, our statues as beings of sin, was made blatant in the extreme. The unambiguous clarity was its own balm. Every time I looked at my reflection, I saw the price I had paid for my arrogance, for my wrath.

    A representative of the Almighty had ushered me into this world, a being of terrifying absolute moral certainty. By His grace I had been offered a choice, face my ultimate Judgment or be reborn to undergo a penitent journey.

    For my failures, for my sins, for my cowardice to face Judgment, I had chosen to be reborn, with the humanity given to me by the Creator stripped away. Justly stripped away, for I had proven myself unworthy to be made in His image. But God was not without His forgiveness.

    My fingers ached as I finished my prayers. I liked to think that was a sign of my faith, that I was a true penitent. Sadly, I knew the pang was just one of many lingering pains from the surgeries I had eagerly embraced as part of my path to redemption.

    There was a knock on the door of my quarters.

    "Enter," I said, raising to my feet. At least I had avoided the indignity of a cloven hooved form in this strange and infernal new life.

    Another fallen being, one in the black, glossy habit of Our Hallowed Lady, stepped into the room. We were both chaplains in the Andromachin military.

    However, for Sister Euphoria, being a sister was her primary role, where for me being Sister RedLash was a secondary duty. I rubbed my hands looking at the inlay-like silver lines that streaked down my arms to my fingers.

    "You're looking well," Euphoria smiled, showing her fangs. It was not an aggressive display; she was trying to be reassuring.

    I nodded and made sure my light sandy-brown hair was pulled back, that I kept some modesty. Integrating into this new life might have been easier had I been born with more of a demonic form, like some of the others, but I suppose the recognition of trace of my own true faith in the reflection of the young demoness I was growing into was part of the punishment, the enlightenment. It was a cruel, barbed thing, as insidious and damaged as a hook without the simple remedy presented by removal and stitches. It benefited the scourge of the Most High.

    And yet, even in this hellhole, I had been shown compassion. As I had born into this world as a demon, I had no father to lose. A small mercy, but one I was thankful for. I hoped I would one day reunite with my own father, though I doubted he would ever recognize me.

    "Are you taking well to the binding surgeries?" Euphoria asked, her hooves clicking on the concrete floor.

    "The doctors are impressed with my fortitude, my faith," I stated. The Angel made it clear that my choices, my penances were up to me.

    Euphoria smiled. "I am glad. It is momentous that you have gotten so far, and so young and..."

    She trailed off. The demon did not need to speak. We were both members of the Church of DarkStar. And despite my loyalty to my new home, demonic though it was, there were still rumors that we were spies for House BlackSky. Not that it mattered, we were Andromache, the smallest Great House. At the crossroads of Diyu, we had many faiths, cultures, and languages. We had to be cordial with all of the big three Houses to keep the medium Houses from invading. I felt the familiar rage at being part of a smaller nation bullied and exploited by larger ones.

    Just because I understood did not mean that I liked it. House Elena was arrogant and prideful. Luxon reveled in being fallen, little more than a pack of libertines. And then there was House BlackSky.

    I cared little for the propaganda House BlackSky pumped out and called high culture: opera, ballet, racing, gladiatorial games.

    There was always a fresh crop of warlike young noble pilots who were the "hot new thing" in House BlackSky. Maybe they will be useful, but I had learned what happened when you flew too high, when you let rage and righteousness blind you.

    I tried to avoid the glitz of it all. I was a simple pilot; I had been a fantastic air mage. I personally found House Andromache's means of bonding enchantments and spirits into a pilot to be mortifying. But I took every surgery, every time my bones were engraved and inlaid as part of my penance. Unlike most other Houses, we eschewed bulky external suits, instead our Ritual Plate components were integrated with us, within us; my Zephyr were a part of me. I could feel them inside my wings, running along my tail.

    I took every cut and procedure with the minimal analgesics. That did hasten my healing, and once it was proven that I could handle the trauma, Operations allowed the surgical artificers to do more precise work in a given session.

    This suffering was deserved. If not for my weakness in battle, if not for my sins, I would not be living this life of punishment. No... for my sins I deserved Judgment. It was by the love and forgiveness of the Almighty that my penitent request had been granted.

    "Are you feeling okay?" Euphoria asked, she sounded sincere. She sounded empathic and friendly. With her open face, long black hair, and her kind soul, I wondered what great sins she had committed to earn her punishment here, in this corrupted realm. "Maybe we can go out? I know you won't be cleared to fly until the doctors have had another look at you..."

    I turned my head away and thought of my oaths of chastity, poverty, and charity. "Maybe, if I can get off base."

    "This is your first time in Myr," Euphoria offered. "And I'd love to show you around."

    "It is more green than being back up on Lantia." My younger years had been spent on the smaller of Diyu's two moons. It had been easier to have a youth of penance in isolation. But my dreams of... of atonement came true when I had been tested. Andromache was a small power and needed every edge it could get.

    It was determined that I had an affinity for air spirits and magic. As soon as that discover was made and brought to my knowledge, that was that: I had found my path. The Angel had been correct in its assertion that I would, not that I had any justification to doubt an emissary of the Almighty.

    "Maaria?" Euphoria asked as she led me out of my quarters. I was a newly bonded Pilot, so I rated my own room, at least until I recovered from my operations. I did enjoy the solitude. I had tried to get to know my fellow pilots so we could work as a team, at least when in the air, but had met with minimal success.

    I gave her an apologetic smile, realizing I had lost track of the conversation. "I'm sorry, Sister. Please forgive me. I missed what you were saying. Diyu proper is still a bit overwhelming to a simple girl like me."

    We stepped out into the sun of a terrace that overlooked Myr, capital of Andromache. The city was lovely, and Euphoria laughed. I took in the view of people seemingly enjoying themselves, even using boats and pleasure craft. There was a lesson. My punishment was not ashen skies and lakes of fire. The only tortures I faced were the ones I brought upon myself.

    And those were for clarity and spiritual power.

    It did not take long for us to get to a cafe that served hot noodle dishes. "May She one day return to us," we both intoned after finishing grace and starting on a sour and spicy soup.

    "I have heard rumors about that," Euphoria noted.

    "In Silvana?" I noted with a little smile. DarkStar had suffered for her Faith: she had been betrayed and tortured and torn apart. Of the many and strange religions in this world it was the one that... called to me.

    "That is where her family lives, Maaria."

    I shrugged. "BlackSky claims ownership to the Faith and what do they use it for? For cheap knick knacks and blasphemous comics."

    "They're not all bad," Euphoria defended. "Some are valid scripture, just made in a way more accessible to broodlings."

    Stretching my heavy crimson tail, I sipped my tea. The tingling in my tail-fins was getting better. The temptation for self-flagellation was there, but there were regulations about Mortification both in the church and the military. "Do tell."

    "Okay, fine. A lot of it is total bunkum, like these new ones with where the pious Jungle Fox prays for Her help to smite the Houseless unbelievers."

    "Who?" I put my cup down.

    "Countess DiamondDust? The Ballerina Ace? She's a Pilot, a Legionary Flier. She was all the rage several years ago when she made Ace up in House RedStorm with just her Faith and her Mother's sword. It was in all the broadsheets."

    "Sister, I was living on Lantia at the time," I stated, but something... I tried to drink from my cup but my hand shook a bit. Was I arrogant enough to assume... I knew I was not the only penitent on this world...

    "Are you okay?"

    "Just some tremors, they say that can happen when you're healing."

    Euphoria bowed her head. "Apologies. I think you might like the Countess. Yes, she is BlackSkyvian bloody-handed nobility through and through, but she was raised by members of our Order and is a novitiate sister herself."

    My mouth was dry. "Tell me more about this countess."

    End ch17


    Uriel did warn Tauria about this way at the start of things.


    Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, Scarlet Fox, Afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

    And special thanks for Readhead for giving this chapter some extra polish, especially with Tauria's insecurities, her voice, her ire for nobles, and all of Mary's... issues.
     
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    Omake: Knight Sirens Ch1
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    • So, this is the start of a multi-chapter future-set sidestory that may or may not be canon, kind of up to Sunny here. This stars a pair of other Diyu demons.

    Without further ado,

    Knight Sirens


    Chapter One


    Go faster, sis. We need to outrun them. I sent over our telepathic link as I weaved through the trees in an attempt to ditch our pursuers. We would have used our suit comms, but our telepathy was far more secure. Trees to my right, trees to the left, and above, my older sister in a similar rig, matching my speed. Her wings stretched as wide as mine did as we jetted through the forest, our zephyrs pushing themselves to their limits. I checked the sensors, and there were even more closing in on our position.

    Outrun them? They've got us surrounded, Frost. It's a plague. Her worry rippled through our link, and there was a growl to her 'voice' that I could hear. I worried too. The suits we were in weren't equipped for combat, especially not with an unknown enemy force. Whatever these things were, they seemed to be nothing but rage and something far, far worse. Normally, emotions are easy to identify. Everything feels something that maps to a normal emotive spectrum except for those beings that are really just wrong. There really were only so many ways emotions could be configured in a living being. But whatever these things were, their emotions had been stripped bare, leaving just what we felt. I couldn't even begin to guess what that worse thing was, save for what I felt at the pit of my stomach.

    I've got an idea. I tucked my body in, pulling my feathered wings around me, even encased by the suit's enhancements, and I dug my clawed toes into one of the trees, slowing almost instantly to a stop. This maneuver hurt, even with the zephyrs helping dampen the stop, but it was necessary to be able to pull off any sort of win here. Sure, the custom suit had its upsides, but I knew the ritualista would be upset with me when I returned for dinging up their (my) suit. We can't run, BlackFire. You know it. We can't hide. Given our lack of onboard weapons, fighting them is probably suicidal. There's only one option.

    Where are you going with this?     My sister peeled off her flight and perched on a branch near me as we looked upon the cloud of creatures approaching. They were demons, certainly, yet not of a rival House. They weren't from Diyu at all, really, and nothing in my education or training covered what they might be. They were masculine with mouths full of sharp fangs, unburdened by lips. Within their gaping maws, a glowing orange light nested. Their eyes were bulbous, sticking out the sides of their head.

    We jump, I sent. There was only one real option. These suits were too valuable to let fall into any sort of enemy hands, and I didn't want to make a sacrifice play. We needed to leave this area, get away from the demonic swarm. I can hold them off while you get the way open. Hurry.

    We're nowhere near our rendezvous point, Frost. We have no clue where we'll end up.

    Anywhere is better than here. I drew my sword with my left hand, and I gathered my power in my right. Cold, dark shadows coalesced around my claws, and underneath my visor, I bared my teeth. These things had no clue what they were about to face. We were a species that was constantly underestimated. I switched to vocalizing aloud. "Hey! You demonic pretenders! Come and get me, if you dare!"

    I was unsure if they understood me, so I took advantage of the linguistics training I took over the past few years in Fleet, and I repeated myself in four other languages. I must have hit something that they knew, or they just decided on their own, because they started spiraling down toward me. I flourished my blade in anticipation. Whatever these things were, they were going to bleed. They were going to die. As my sister prepped the jump portal, I adjusted the sensory suite to record. I'd be fine because of her. My Zephyrs practically sang in anticipation of what was coming.

    "Come on!"

    The first demon dive-bombed me, and I pushed off the tree, swiveling around so I could slash at it with my blade, Shiro. Most pilots don't bother wearing a blade, but my sister and I both carried. Most pilots never even considered them necessary, but this was one of the situations where carrying them was right. The holy sword sliced through the demon's body, leaving a trail of green fire and spewing ichor. I bared my fangs, and followed up with a slash of my claws toward the next demon. Unlike many of my Fleetmates, my flames didn't burn. They froze. They sprung forth from icy shadows, and they sprung forth from the tip of Shiro as I swung him. I unleashed a wave of fire, ice and shadow onto the first group of creatures, igniting several, but more were on their way.

    "Any time now," I said, curling my right talons and dragging more shadows out toward them. "I'm not sure how long I can keep this up…"

    "Nag, nag, little sister," said BlackFire. "There's protocols for this sort of thing. You know them. You've memorized them. We could end up anywhere."

    "Better than here," I said, unleashing another burst of ice and shadow, following with a cutting blast from Shiro. This was far more draining than if the Ritual Plate had their weaponry built-in. Just because we'd been trained to fight without the suits didn't mean we liked doing it. I jumped at another demon, driving Shiro into its bulbous eye, and then I kicked it. "Better than being swarmed by these things."

    "Could end up swarmed by something else," she said, but her power surged. Magic, our kind of magic, was very will-based, and we studied to perfect it.

    I brought my free hand to join my left at Shiro's hilt, and I sneered as I gathered shadows and ice. The zephyrs in my armor trilled, clearly interested in what I was about to do, and I didn't dare to disappoint. I seeded the sky with my shadows, cold, and I drew the heat from below, creating differing charged air. Physics took hold.

    One of the demons seemed to yell something almost intelligible, but it didn't finish as lightning struck my sword, then got redirected toward it. A wave of electric energy, wrapped in my icy flames, slammed into several approaching demons. It knocked many of them from the sky with frozen over or paralyzed wings, but the cloud of them only got darker. More lightning struck above as they swarmed.

    I landed next to my sister, panting, resting a hand against the trunk of the tree. That had taken a lot out of me. "Get it open now! I don't like our odds against a million of those things."

    "The protocols…"

    "Bypass them," I said. "We can't let them get these suits." Or us.

    "Fine, got it," BlackFire said, and she drove her claws into the air, and she pulled a portal open. This wasn't the normal Fleet jump style, but we didn't have time for doing those calculations manually. A cylindrical opening formed in reality, slowly taking the shape of a door-sized portal. We saw buildings on the other side, skyscrapers, and it had to be better than here. "Go, now, FrostShadow. I can't keep holding it open. There's something on the other side, blocking."

    "You need to come with," I said.

    "Always," she said, and I pushed off the branch after letting off a final blast of icy shadows. This one was more to obscure us than deal any damage. I dove through the portal, closely followed by my older sister, each of us uncaring of what would be found on the other side. Whatever it was, it was better than here.

    **********************************

    Cities are rarely completely dark, even at night. Silvana, the city we grew up in, is no exception, even with the exceptional night vision of the majority of its residents. The city that my sister and I ended up in on the other side of the jump portal, however, seemed dark even with our night vision. It was uninviting, like the city itself didn't want you there, nor did it care how you would leave. The lights that were there glared angrily down on the street corners, their rage-filled gaze causing them to flicker like an out-of-control disco ball. Too many were out, as it were, and the dark streets felt off, even from as high up as we were.

    The buildings were extremely gothic in design with some art deco, even for a city designed by humans. For this city certainly was designed by humans, given the sheer soullessness of some of its construction. It simultaneously resembled buildings we'd seen in versions of New York, Chicago, and Toronto all at once. Wherever we were, obviously was none of those cities. BlackFire and I flew over the rooftops, taking the scrying intake with our Gorgon Rigs, looking for anything familiar. The city's darkness was oppressive, and it almost seemed to be there in the composited maps we were building up . There was an aura that the city held, one of rage, fear, and a lack of sanity, with only a hint of light fighting back the darkness. The two of us were far from home, yet something about this place was familiar.

    None of those demons that had been chasing us had managed to follow through BlackFire's portal, and there wasn't anything that shared that sort of signature anywhere nearby. There was something to the north side of the city, an area that read as high in magic relating to death, and there were certainly humans capable of using magic within the city. We circled one of the taller buildings twice, keeping our Veils up to put us out of sight of any visible watchers or cameras that were picked up by our rigs, and then we landed on the building's rooftop. Well, to be more accurate, BlackFire landed on the rooftop, and I took up residence on the edge of the building, perching next to a stone gargoyle.

    Something about this city seemed deeply familiar, though I knew that none of the Earths that BlackFire and I had been to with the Fleet had a city like this. At least, we hadn't been to the city like this.

    "So, we landed on an Earth," BlackFire said as she walked up behind me. "I don't think we've been to this one before."

    I shrugged and I swapped to a more mundane mode on my Gorgon Rig's scrying. Someone on the development team had suggested expanding the radio signals we could pick up and the processing modes would be useful for any infiltration force, and our Ritualista had agreed to make those modifications. We did have plenty of examples of various "earth standard" broadcast protocols. s. I was able to identify several broadcast radio signals, each overlapping on my helmet's interface, but I hadn't chosen to isolate any of them. I was tempted to look beyond the shielding that my suit and training provided for my empathy and unleash it on the city, but… Even through the shields, I could feel it. "This is an English-speaking city, or at least a language that is close to it. And… well, there's something… the people…"

    "They're scared, angry or both," BlackFire said. "I feel it too, Frost. Something is wrong here, and I can't even figure out what. This city's got issues."

    "Issues on top of issues," I said, looking out over the city. A spotlight from a nearby roof drew my eye to the sky, and I blinked. "That… might be a clue of sorts."

    "What do you..?" BlackFire followed my pointing finger. "Oh. Are we sure that someone's not celebrating something?"

    "Or filming something?" I shrugged. The searchlight in the sky shone brightly, projecting an image of a familiar symbol, one all too familiar. In Cadet School, someone had snuck in some translated comic books imported from one or two Earths, and our whole Flight ended up doing a few movie nights with subtitles regarding this very item. We even managed to find a smaller opera house in Silvana that was running a production, though they had taken a few liberties with the localization; for one, male ballet dancers were a hot commodity. The symbol had two prongs for the ears and spread wings in black upon the lit background. "... I'm not sure how it's possible, but I think we're in Gotham city."

    "The between is supposed to connect to many different Earths, in addition to Diyu, but…" BlackFire shook her head. "I didn't think this would be possible. The Catographer's Guild will want to talk with us when we get back. There's worse places we could have ended up, and worse times. Imagine us showing up in Metropolis, fresh from that portal. In daylight."

    We wouldn't have had time to camouflage. Here, we did, but by being on the roof and not being out in public, we didn't outright need to. Not yet, anyway.

    "I am less worried about the big guy than some of his villains," I said. Then I cocked my head. My Gorgon Rig alerted me to two signals approaching from upwind moving fast up the side of the building. Humans, determined ones, moving quicker than normal. Clearly, they were using tools. The two pulled over the side of the building, landing on the roof, and their smell wafted over on the breeze. Some of it was tied to their emotional state as well. The rig detected several weapons on their persons along with analyzing one to be older, maybe between early adulthood and middle age, while the younger was a teenager. Both were determined people, and the younger felt… giddy? Interesting. Company.

    I know, Frost. I got them detected too. The two of us turned toward them, each grinning under our helmets. It wasn't every day that you got to meet genuine superheroes. Not that they'd be able to see our grins behind our closed helms.

    Two dark figures slipped from within the shadows, and even with the good night vision we had, it was tough to make them out or get a good look at them until they were completely in view. The Gorgon Rig in our suits kept us aware of where they were the entire time, but they were very good at using the shadows to hide their approach. When we finally got a good look at them, it took nearly all my willpower to not make a gleeful noise. I had read many an imported book about this pair and seen a few films.

    Batman was almost required reading in our first flight in the Household Fleet. I blamed our first Primus Centurion for that, primarily. All the movies and drawings couldn't compare to the human in front of us. Batman was taller than my sister, even without counting the pointed ears in the cowl that hid his eyes so well. He felt like he towered over me. His suit was gray and armored with a black bat sigil over his chest, yet there was no yellow background to it. He also had his utility belt on his waist along with a long black cape that draped down his back.

    His companion was Nightwing, surprisingly. He wore a black bat-shaped domino mask to cover his eyes, and he wore a black suit with a blue bird sigil on the front. He was younger than I expected, barely looking older than me, far younger than I would have expected him to be if he was wearing that costume.

    "Well, that's a new sight," Nightwing said in English as he approached. He stuck close to Batman, even if we could tell he felt the urge to do something more. "I almost wish KF were here. I'm sure he'd make some interesting comments about the two of you ladies. You are ladies, correct?"

    KF? Huh. I wondered if that was short for Kid Flash. Maybe a teammate from when he was on the Titans? It had been some time since I'd managed to acquire any comics with Nightwing in them. They were all imports and thus a bit expensive. He certainly looked somewhere between BlackFire and I in age, but he could have been younger than me.

    I cocked my head to the side, and my tail swished behind me. English was not one of my strong languages. It could get confusing at times. Especially with contractions. "One would think that someone who studies under a person that dresses up like a bat to fight crime would have little room to judge."

    "Who are you?" Batman's voice came out a little on the rougher side, like he was pitching his natural voice down a little. However, he wasn't using any technology to change it. Likely he used a different persona when he was out of the costume to better differentiate himself from his costumed self. He didn't sound angry, and a bit of suspicious curiosity came off his emotional aura, even if it didn't appear in his voice.

    "I'm BlackFire," my sister said, and then she gestured to me. "And this is my little sister, FrostShadow."

    "And you are the Batman and the Nightwing, caped crusaders," I said. "I am certain that you have far better things to deal with this evening than us."

    "Perhaps," Batman said, and despite his eyes being covered, I got the feeling that he was looking us over. It was a little uncomfortable for us to be unable to meet our eyes, but who knew what we'd end up seeing? "You are costumed and in Gotham, and you're new. For what purpose?"

    I frowned under my helmet. With the faceplate down, he wouldn't be able to see my face, but I made sure to keep my tail still. "It was not our intention to come to this city. We were testing some new equipment, mapping some new travel routes and overshot our destination."

    "We intend no harm to anyone in this city, Batman," BlackFire said. "As my sister said, we had no intention to even come here. We knew of this city, but we had not ever planned on coming here."

    Mostly because we didn't know that it actually existed on an Earth somewhere. Most of the Earths we had interacted with simply had this as a comic book. It was curious. I was not looking forward to the debriefings where our suit's logs would be dissected.

    Batman studied us for a second, and it felt similar to being looked at by a Tribune. It was all I could do to not preen under the gaze, to try and make myself seem even more approachable. Was it wrong to want to look good for a superhero like this one? He had a presence to him that was just raw intimidation, and even knowing he was completely human, I had no doubts that he would stand strong against anything thrown at him.

    In reality, he would be a very good one of us, were it to happen. Maybe that little opera wasn't so outlandish.

    "And just what were your plans for the equipment?"

    "In the most generic of terms, transfer the data to the research teams, who would then translate it into upgrades for future production models," BlackFire said. "The production models would then be used to protect our people and the interests of our state."

    Batman nodded, and then he frowned. My sister and I tilted our heads slightly. Our hearing is far better than that of humanity, not to mention our Gorgon Rigs had audio processing in addition to the other intakes, so we could hear the voice in his ear. An older man with an English accent was speaking over the crackling radio.

    "Sir, Commissioner Gordon is waiting. It's the Joker, sir," said the voice that could only be the Wayne family butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Involuntarily, I shuddered. Of course, if we were in Gotham City with Batman and Nightwing in front of us, the Clown Prince of Crime was real too. As fun as reading about his escapades could be, the idea of a real Joker did not sit well with me.

    "Hey, the two of you all right?" Nightwing asked. He gave us a grin, showing his fangs a little. Teeth. Not fangs. Humans didn't have any. "You look a little discombobulated right now." He suddenly turned contemplative. "I'm going to need you to get nice and combobulated."

    "... What does that even mean?" I asked. "Is that a real word?"

    "No, Frost, it isn't," BlackFire said. "It's not a thing."

    "Is so," Nightwing said with an even smugger grin. "I just made it one."

    "Enough," Batman said. "Nightwing, head toward the police station. BlackFire, FrostShadow, I assume you can fly in those things?'

    "Yes," we said in unison.

    "Good," Batman said. "We can continue our conversation later, but in the meantime, I want you to follow us. Stay back and away. Jim doesn't need to know about you yet, and I have more questions. However, the Joker needs to be stopped."

    He didn't give us a chance to respond. He simply ran and jumped off the building, his cape fluttering in the wind, and Nightwing followed him. Mere seconds later, we heard shots fire, and as we looked over the building, we saw the two Caped Crusaders each swinging along a grappling line. Impressive.

    "They certainly seemed human," BlackFire said, returning to our native tongue. "But then they go and do something like that."

    I shrugged. "They're heroes. Peak human condition, right? Imagine if they were like us."

    BlackFire's tail swished, and she spun up her RP. I did the same, and we flew off after them. This time, instead of going overtop of the buildings, we flew between them, keeping just enough distance back that we could follow Batman and NIghtwing as they moved.

    It was interesting. Batman's movement seemed to be the most like a Diyu demon not wearing any sort of RP. He spent half of his time between swings using his cape to glide. He hung on the air about as well as the average one of us. His cape behaved a lot more like my sister's wings.

    Nightwing, on the other hand, did far more acrobatics in his movement. He would push off the buildings, grab onto handrails and swing, but even he had some wingsuit properties to his costume, some webbing between his arms and his legs that only seemed to appear when it caught the air. It was truly an interesting sight to watch.

    I made sure that I was getting as much information as I could with my Gorgon Rig, while also taking advantage of my suit's feeding options. I was still hungry after expending that energy against those demons that existed between.

    The two of them landed on the edge of the police station roof, and my sister and I hovered over a nearby building. We could hear the people on that roof quite clearly. Something seemed off about one of the men, a suited one wearing a hat,, but I couldn't tell from this angle. I started running some scrying with the Gorgon Rig on him.

    "Gordon, we're here," Batman said. "What's going on?"

    "It's the Joker, Batman," said an older man's voice, but while the voice came from the man that drew my attention, it didn't come from his mouth. It came from something in his pocket, a tape recorder? His hands were in there, manipulating something. His companions seemed nervous, but they were looking down.

    "I've been informed," said Batman, stepping closer to the man. His hands were at his belt, and at this distance, I got a feeling of resignation off of him. Had he realized something was off about the older man as well? "Where is he?"

    "I'm surprised, Bats, truly I am," said the man, his voice different this time. This was his voice, and as he turned, my sister and I tensed. The man had a white face, almost the pallor some Diyu demons had, green hair, yellowed eyes, and for some reason a painted-on grin that looked anything but happy. This was the Joker, and what I felt from him was a sense of murderous glee. "You're usually much quicker on the uptake than this."

    It was surprising how quickly Batman made it across the rooftop to lift Joker by his lapels. "I already asked you once, Joker. Where. Is. He? Where's Gordon?"

    "Oh, I wouldn't worry about old Jim," Joker siad. "You'd be better off worrying about your not-so-little sidekick anymore. What was his name again? Some little bird? It's a Thursday, after all, and I wouldn't want him to take ill."

    The Joker let off a maniacal laugh, and warnings blared on my sensors. A large source of necromantic energy was detected, and a large meaty fist reached up through the building's roof to grab Nightwing. How? How had that thing managed to stay hidden so well until now? Yes, we hadn't been scrying specifically for it, but surely we would have felt… oh.

    Emotion is more or less a universal thing to an empath. Emotions, for most beings, all come down to feeling the same way. Joy feels like joy, sadness like sadness, arousal like arousal, no matter the species. I've met spirits, demons, humans, and many other things in between, and each of them have had the same basis for their emotions. They just had ever so slightly different flavors, if you will. It's not usual that anyone can surprise us with feelings that far out of the norm, and it usually came from those either severely impaired with drug use or with minds so alien that their feelings are more color than anything else. I swear, once I met a being who quite literally felt purple, of all things.

    This thing. This massive undead creature, had feelings so dull that they faded to background noise. If it had any sort of actual feeling to it, it was muffled by everything, by the fact that it was already dead. A zombie, of sorts.

    "Born on a Monday… Christened on Tuesday…" Joker laughed again. "Say hello to Solomon Grundy!"

    Grundy roared, and my sister and I had already taken to the air. Batman tossed some sort of explosive at the arm that held Nightwing just as electricity arced across the arm. Nightwing must have had some sort of electrical prod. The hand spasmed, dropping NIghtwing, who rolled away before the explosives struck. The resultant explosion blew the hulking zombie off the roof and slamming him into a wall.

    As the smoke cleared, Solomon Grundy became visible, and my sister and I scanned him with our Gorgon Rigs. Targeting data came up on the display which was helpful but utterly useless at the moment. Gray skin, two and a half meters tall, and made entirely of coiled muscle. There were parts rotting within him, held together by some sort of necromantic energies that were both magical and nonmagical. Confusing, to say the least. He had white hair, wore a torn suit jacket and trousers cut off at the knees. It reminded me of the poem, which my mother had read to me when I was little.

    I shook my head. Joker had even quoted it and referenced a later line in the nursery rhyme.

    We should help, I sent my sister. What I got back from her was an irritated feeling coupled with some sarcasm.

    Of course, the Ritual Plate we wore were test suits. Which meant that they were unarmed. Normally, in Ritual Plate combat, we would use our weapons and attack from range, taking out whatever unlucky enemy failed to dodge out of the way of the attack. There rarely was any sort of reason to get up close and personal. We were Fleet Pilots, not infantry. The Imperial Legions had their ground pounders, we were Fleet. However, after a Legionary Flier Countess had the unlucky experience of being forced to fight in an unarmed Ritual Plate a few years back, the Fleet added some trainings on what to do if you were in a situation where either your weapons were disabled or you were flying an unarmed suit. And that was after the Legions had put in their own program.

    Pilots were often better prepared than they thought. Given the magical talent necessary to even be able to operate the suit's systems and their air spirits, Pilots could often repurpose some of that power for other reasons. The Verutum launcher was a prime example of a weapon system that used more of a Pilot's magical skills.

    My sister and I were on the higher end of that aptitude curve, so we had offensive spells to back up additional physical activities, as we demonstrated on those additional demons earlier. They just lacked the range and dedicated power that the normal weaponry would have on a Ritual Plate. Of course, this did require dumping a lot of power into evocation type spells or attacks, something we were not especially adept in. The remaining power in our suits was going to be a concern in a matter of hours. Our skills were far better utilized in observation and fine detail work, which was a large part of why we ended up on this operation to begin with.

    Still. I wanted to see if we could pull off being superheroes. And as much as my Ritualista would hate me for it, there was something I could do without burning a whole lot of power.

    My sister had the same idea.

    We slammed into a growling Solomon Grundy, using a burst of power to increase our speed and lift to get the overly large zombie out of the wall. I turned my head toward Batman and Nightwing. "Deal with the Joker, we'll handle the zombie!"

    Friction was overcome, and Grundy went flying onto the ground four stories below. My sister and I followed, circling around him as he climbed to his feet.

    "Hard to believe he got married on a Wednesday," BlackFire said in English. If we weren't flying around, I was sure her tail would be swishing.

    "Grundy not like you!" said the hulking thing, clearly a little woozy.

    "That's your own problem," BlackFire said, sneering. Her claws lit up with the blackened flames of her namesake. She dove at him, raking burning claws as she passed him by across his chest. Grundy howled in what had to be pain. "We're perfectly likable!"

    I followed my sister's dive with one of my own, but I shifted mid-air to a kicking motion, reversing the thrust of my RP to aid my kick. My talons dug into his chest when I struck, forcing him back half a meter. Shadows gathered at my talons, and I pushed off him, leaving a frozen wound in the overly large zombie. This was a supervillain fight. Banter was important. But I needed to do it in English. He wouldn't understand Silvan. "Come on you big dumb ugly… man thing. Show me what you can do!"

    Grundy snarled, and in the process, he released a wave of… something that distorted my vision and sensors. That… was not expected. In the least. The zombie charged me, leaping into the air, and I banked to his side, hoping to avoid any sort of charge. His ham-sized fist slammed into me mid-maneuver, sending me hurtling through the air. I slammed into the concrete wall of the nearby police station and crumpled down the wall until I landed on the ground.

    Ow.

    This was why a certain Countess's lecture on melee combat in Ritual Plate started with "Don't" before going into how to do it if you had no other choice.

    "Frost!" BlackFire slammed her hands together, and then she brought them apart, forming a bow made of black flames. She snarled out an incantation in what sounded like Luxon, and she launched an arrow of flames from the bow.

    A wave of fire sizzled its way into Grundy before he could hit the ground. It blew him off his feet with an accompanying concussive blast, and the smell of long pork filled the area as his skin cooked in the fire. BlackFire followed up by launching another arrow.

    I took a deep breath as the world stopped spinning, and I glared at Grundy. I gathered shadows around me, folding and molding them. I shaped them into a lance, and I reared my arm back, throwing them at the hulking zombie. The lance struck true, driving further into Grundy's chest, and he howled in pain.

    The gray-skinned behemoth jumped at my sister once more, and he caught her tail in his big meaty hooks. He squeezed down, and I snarled, readying to launch another lance, but he swung my sister at me. She did her best to slow herself, but we collided, sprawling out onto the ground, edged up against a police cruiser. Grundy attempted to follow up, chasing toward us. An explosion and burst of smoke intercepted him. My sister and I glanced at the source.

    Nightwing saluted with an escrima stick, and we climbed to our feet. I glanced down to assess the damage, internally wincing. I was going to get an earful from Augusta, our crew chief, about damage to the RP, but it would be worth it.

    Still, this fight had gone on longer than necessary. My sister and I moved in lockstep as Grundy snarled at us once more. Drawing on a familiar power source, one that I was certain should not have been accessible in these suits, my sister and I each leveled a hand at the oncoming zombie man, splayed out our fingers, and then we pointed. With a snarled incantation, we used one of the strongest evocations in our arsenal, combining them with our natural abilities. Twin razor-tipped cyclones erupted from our pointed fingers, each one sheathed in our respective namesakes. Then, the cyclones combined into a single cyclone of shadow, ice, and flame. We were BlackFire and FrostShadow, and we would demonstrate why we had those names.

    Our cyclones struck true, carving their way through the hulking zombie's torso, cleaving it in twain. We shifted slightly, and we finished quartering him before beheading him completely. After he dropped to the ground, in pieces, we fed on the ambient energies released from the zombie's second death. Perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps it was less. The energy helped to restore what we had lost in the fight against him and the demons we'd faced earlier.

    "And that was the end of Solomon Grundy," I said, raising my hand once more to gather the parts into a pile. Getting rid of the remains seemed appropriate, and my sister clearly agreed as she raised her own hands.

    "Wait," Batman said authoritatively as he landed nearby. BlackFire and I cocked our heads slightly. "Don't burn Grundy's remains. He should be returned to his proper resting place, Slaughter Swamp. I can make arrangements for that to happen."

    "Slaughter Swamp, hmm?" I asked. "Such wonderful names you have for places here in Gotham," I said, relaxing a little. "I hope that they are not all like that."

    Nightwing made a shrugging motion after he landed. "No, not really. Some names are just wonder-less. Those are just plain boring. Nothing happens there at all."

    "Nightwing," Batman said in a cautionary tone, and the former Boy Wonder stepped back a couple times. "Where are the two of you staying?" He asked, looking at us.

    I looked around. "What about the Joker?"

    "On his way to Arkham as we speak," Batman said. "But that doesn't answer the question, FrostShadow."

    "We just arrived in the city," BlackFire said. "And on your world. We don't have--"

    Batman held up a hand. "You're coming with us, then." He pressed a button on his belt, and a dark black motor vehicle drove up to us. I was hesitant to call it a car, but it was long and wide, with two spoilers that resembled bat wings on the back. There was apparently some sort of jet engine-like exhaust that was below where the trunk would be, and the top of the vehicle slid off, revealing two seats.

    "There is no way that thing seats four," I said. This iteration of the car, the Batmobile, appeared to be a two-seater, after all, but it looked so cool. If it weren't for my RP, I'd be willing to sit in my sister's lap for the duration of the ride though.

    Luckily, Batman was prepared. He raised his right gauntlet and pressed two buttons that seemed almost blended into it. Hydraulic noises came from the Batmobile as the superpowered car expanded. It lengthened a little over a meter and widened by slightly less. The glass covering slid and separated, revealing enough room to seat four humans comfortably. "A little forward planning never hurts. The two of you can fold your wings in, correct?"

    I wrapped my wings around me, even covered with the Ritual Plate's armoring, my dark down feathers were soft against my skin. I would have hidden my wings, but the armored parts of the suit were not currently designed to hide the same way, and it was more efficient to keep them out than to try and re-suit them. BlackFire copied me. We also calmed our Zephyr and to have them spool down the suit's systems as the air spirts cooled off and went quiescent.

    Nightwing did a hand-flip into the passenger seat of the vehicle, and he patted behind him on the seat. "Come on in, you two!"

    I smiled. You can really tell he comes from a family of gymnasts.

    Wonder how he'll try and keep the route hidden,     BlackFire sent back as the two of us climbed into the back seat. We curled our tails around us to make the seating even more comfortable.

    Once Batman settled into the driver's seat, he looked back at the two of us and frowned. Our faceplates covered our faces completely, even if they were shaped into approximations of similar faces. "Blindfolds aren't an option here. We'll have to talk more when we get to our destination."

    Even with blindfolds our suits had navigation systems that would give us a fair idea of where we had traveled. Which Batman likely suspected, and he probably was pondering a way to defeat them.

    He flipped a switch and the roof slid back into place. BlackFire dipped her head a little bit to avoid her horns scratching the vehicle's roof. Two more switches had the windows around us turn opaque and dark.

    Nightwing looked back at us. "Sorry. We just need to keep where we're going a secret. "

    "We understand," I said. "But where are we going?"

    "Somewhere safe," Batman said. "It won't be long. Relax."

    He flipped one more switch, and a divider rose between the two rows of seats, equally as opaque and dark. Of course, neither of them had any way of knowing that the scrying suites on our suits was as detailed as they were. We weren't going to outright tell him either. We bet he had his suspicions, but there was no reason to confirm them.

    Then the glass had a current running through it. Not enough that it would cause physical problems, but enough that it would cause interference with electromagnetic detection. Smart. Of course, Gorgon Rigs worked primarily on magical and thaumaturgical scrying. The electrification would have agitated the Zephyrs if we weren't focused on keeping them calm here. They knew we were calm, so that helped with them as well.

    The Batmobile started moving, and I smiled. How much do you think that Jocasta would be jealous of us here?

    She's your friend, Frost,     BlackFire sent. She shook her head and looked out the opaque window. Our masks could adjust some for the darkening, letting us see beyond, albeit in a shadowed manner. But she's taller than me. Her horns might be scraping the ceiling.

    I shrugged. If Neira had her way, our horns would be too. Which would be even more awkward for me. Outside the window, the outlines of the buildings were more visible than their details. Still, the iconic W of Wayne Tower glittered in the distance. Gotham City certainly was a sight to behold, from ground level or as we saw it when we arrived. There's no way we're headed to the main cave.

    Wouldn't even bet against that,     BlackFire responded. We're unknowns here. We also killed Solomon Grundy. Who was oddly filling. That was a lot of energy off of him.

    I nodded. Might be enough to keep him down for good. And it's not even Saturday, according to Joker.

    Blackfire snorted. Still possible that he ends up rising from Slaughter Swamp.

    I shrugged, and then the Batmobile made a sharp turn toward a building. The street physically rose up before us, revealing a ramp downward into a tunnel. Yes, definitely not the main cave.

    Pity we don't really know the details about the auxiliary ones that well,     BlackFire said. That was more BlitzFlame's thing than ours.

    The ramp led to some sort of underground bridge, and there was something further that caused the Gorgon Rig's sensors to glitch out. I couldn't tell what we were crossing save for that it went very far down. Another hydraulic door opened ahead of us, and we drove into… somewhere. Once the door closed behind us, the windows on the Batmobile grew more transparent, revealing the cave beyond.

    This auxiliary Batcave clearly was some sort of secondary training facility used by the Batclan. Tubes along the wall held spare costumes for both Nightwing and Batman, should one of them need to change. There were even a few Robin costumes in some of the tubes, some clearly too small for Nightwing himself. Curious. Perhaps there was another Robin already? A large computer lined one of the walls, and placed precariously on a pedestal above the ground nearby was a very large penny. Strange. Though, to be fair, the weirdest thing in the room was the long ringed hallway that was on the wall opposite the computer. Interesting.

    "Oh, that seems to be a teleporter," BlackFire said. "I didn't know they had that sort of technology available here."

    I would have cocked an eyebrow at my sister at that moment, but my face was covered. Instead she simply felt my indignation. Really?

    Her smirk was palpable. We're alien to them here. He already knows that, and we do come from a far more advanced society. Humans lock up their criminals and don't bother to reform them. This place is even notorious for it.

    Still…     I shook my head. Yes, House BlackSky was far more civilized than most human societies, and this Earth especially had some interesting proclivities with how their criminals failed to reform. Still, this wasn't Diyu. We couldn't criticize it too much. It wasn't like it was our place. I suppose we can play it up.

    BlackFire's tail swished some. She probably even flashed some fang, but our suits covered our faces completely. The Batmobile came to a complete stop, and the roof retracted, letting us stand and stretch out our wings.

    "Welcome to the Batcave," Nightwing said. "You aren't overwhelmed are you? Just the right amount of whelmed?"

    I tilted my head at the Boy Wonder. "Suppose you could say that. This is impressive. Why bring us here?"

    "You said you have nowhere else to say," Batman said as he got out and opened the doors for us to do the same. BlackFire and I walked out of the Batmobile, and the platform the car was parked on lowered, and there was a mechanical whirring that shut a platform overtop of it. That certainly was impressive both in the technological achievement and the funding this must have taken to have those gadgets available. "You're new to Gotham, to Earth, and your suits were damaged in the fight with Grundy."

    "You two showed him!" Nightwing said encouragingly. "Grundy's down and out."

    "What about your police commissioner?" I asked, tilting my head. "Did you manage to find him? Shouldn't you be looking for him?"

    Batman's lips quirked into a smile for the briefest of seconds. I doubted many humans would be able to catch that microexpression. "That's a part of why we're here as well. Follow."

    He turned and we could practically feel Nightwing roll his eyes behind his domino mask. "Come on, ladies, let's go to the Bat-Computer."

    "...is everything Bat-something?" BlackFire asked. "I mean, do you have something like Bat-Shark Repellant or anything like that? Bat-Bats?"

    Nightwing snorted. "Actually, I think there's a design for the first one in the computer. There's a metahuman known as King Shark that I think Batman used it on once."

    "... Ah," I said, and I pursed my lips. As we approached the computer, I saw numerous screens light up. Batman took something out of his utility belt that smelled vaguely sulfuric, like gunpowder, and had the scent of a dead something to it. Something remarkably familiar, but I couldn't place it.

    Not before Batman placed the residue into the computer, anyway. "Computer, analyze base components of the residue and cross-reference with previously known Joker hideouts."

    I forced my tail to be still. It was interesting to watch Batman in detective mode, investigating something like this. Impressive and, if I was being honest, kind of attractive. Batman was a strong, virile person, whose aura just felt like it would be worth it. Still, no. I was not going to attempt to feed on either him or Nightwing. Superman… maybe. Wait. No, that was a worse idea. At least with Batman, I knew Bruce had the reputation of being a womanizer, but Clark Kent? He was with Lois Lane.

    Oh, Frost. I know the hero you'd much prefer anyway, BlackFire sent. She's a Wonder. A mental image of a cartoon demoness pulling down her eyelid and sticking out her tongue passed through our connection. Our tails and body language stayed as deathly still as we could though.

    "Now, while that's analyzing," Batman said as he turned to us. "We can talk about Grundy, yourselves, and what happened. First, I would like to thank you for helping when you did. You didn't need to step in, but I'm grateful for the assistance."

    "It was uh…" BlackFire stumbled over herself. To be honest, I wasn't expecting Batman, of all people, to thank us for help.

    "A pleasure to help," I said. "It… it's what we do."

    Batman smiled, nodding. "You went against an unknown for you in an unknown city. You used your own technology, which you admitted are test rigs for potential future military use. You clearly do have some sort of heroic drive to you though."

    We nodded, nothing that he said was completely unexpected.

    "You also killed Solomon Grundy," Batman said. He held up a hand before we could say anything in response. "Cyrus Gold has been dead for over a century. Occasionally, someone or something revives him as Solomon Grundy. Killing him here was a mercy, sending him back to the rest that he surely deserves. However, the methods you used on him would be lethal a lot earlier if used on someone not nearly as enhanced."

    "Part of the point," BlackFire muttered. We didn't want him getting back up again.

    "You two are soldiers, not traditional heroes," Batman said. "At least not the way we define them here. You aren't invaders, but perhaps you are forward scouts. But you weren't lying when you said you didn't intend on coming here. Wherever you were intending on reaching… this wasn't your intended scouting destination. So… let's be a little more open here. Who are the two of you, really?"

    I frowned, but I stood at attention, my sister doing the same. "Primus Centurion FrostShadow, and this is my sister Primus Centurion BlackFire, of the BlackSkyvian Fleet. Currently tasked as test pilots and route scanners."

    "And your plans for this planet?"

    "Wait. You two are alien, not metahuman?" Nightwing asked. "Or demons?"

    "Well…" I shook my head. "We could be considered both aliens and demons. We are from Diyu."

    Batman nodded. "And your intentions?"

    "Nothing untoward," BlackFire said. "As we came here by accident, the most we would want is to learn."

    "The planet does seem interesting, and we would love to learn more," I said in agreement.

    Batman nodded. "You're clearly young for your species. Perhaps in late adolescence or early adulthood. Given your predilections for heroics and the lethality of your actions, you will need some training on how to operate here. Given you don't have anywhere to stay…"

    Nightwing looked at Batman. "I'm not sure that they'll like this. Adding new members to the Team without warning? Kid Flash will be insufferable, and Superboy and Miss Martian… they won't like the lack of choice. Artemis won't either. You know we prefer to invite new members ourselves."

    I glanced at Nightwing.

    "It's not that anything is wrong with the two of you," he said. "But I just met you. You're both pretty awesome with what you did, but I can't trust you yet. He taught me that."

    "I'm not asking that you have them join the Team," Batman said. "Just that they be allowed to stay in the Mountain."

    "Perhaps it would be easier for you to trust us if we disengaged our armor," BlackFire said, nodding to me.

    Nightwing blinked. "You aren't worried about your identities?"

    "What identities?" I asked. "You have our names, and you know we are not from this planet."

    Without waiting for further assurances, we initiated a disengage routine with our Ritual Plates. The self-repair aspects for our Ritual Plate could repair themselves when the armor was disengaged, and the designers had managed to incorporate something new into the design of these armors. It required a lot more Pilot capability and was in some ways uncomfortably like the Andromachin method of Ritual Plate. That was another system we were testing which given the costs, expensive even by Polyxo or Svalinna standards, might limit them to scouting or infiltration roles.

    The Plate retracted into a sub-dimension that the armorers had thought to use, basing upon similar principles to what DarkStar's mate's people used. Our Zephyrs went to sleep in the process. All that remained on us from the armor were gem-encrusted chokers around our neck. BlackFire's had a ruby inset in onyx while my own had a sapphire. We wore jet-black bodysuits under our armor, and they retracted into leotards. A red skirt appeared on BlackFire that went down to mid-thigh, and a blue one appeared on mine.

    BlackFire's a taller demon than me, and her skin's a bit darker purple than my own. Our tails are both tipped with crimson spades, and they whipped out around to wrap our bodies. Unlike me, my sister had more traditional demonic wings with red skin-like membranes between each rib of it. Her red horns were much shorter than mine, barely sticking out of her forehead. My own wings were made of dark, black feathers, and my red horns curled upward. My powder blue hair fell in tightly curled tresses that went down to the small of my back, hiding my pointed ears, while my sister's violet hair was cut in a pageboy style and straight.

    BlackFire's skirt shifted to a pair of leggings and then red tight pants over the leotard after a few seconds, and she slipped on a jacket, with her wings sticking out.

    "Wait, you're shapeshifters and have biomorphic armor?" Nightwing asked, his enthusiasm plentiful. He also was grinning widely. "That's amazing. Miss Martian will definitely like that. And Kid Flash will love the fact that you're both very pretty. Honestly, you're a lot."

    I nodded with a brief grin. If she was anything like the Martian Manhunter, she would be interesting to meet. "Perhaps. Do you think they would mind us staying?"

    Nightwing shook his head. "We'll have to discuss adding you to the team. But really, FrostShadow and BlackFire? Are those really your names?"

    "It's how they translate to your language," BlackFire said.

    "How would we pronounce them in your native tongue?" Nightwing asked, and Batman stepped back toward the computer.

    We told him, and he attempted to repeat them. He came close with my sister, but when he got to mine, he got a little tongue-tied. Silvan wasn't an Earth language though, even if it shared similarities to Latin.

    "Interesting," Nightwing said. "I'll stick with the translations for now. I bet KF will be completely whelmed when he sees you. Of course… if the computer's responded…"

    Batman shook his head. "I can get Jim, Nightwing. Take them to the Mountain. I've set them up guest access in the Zeta tubes."

    "You sure, Batman?" Nightwing asked.

    "I've got it. Go and see your friends," Batman said.

    "How do the Zeta tubes work, exactly?" I asked.

    "They are a teleportation technology that we developed, and they are designed to work well with most systems," Batman said. "It should work fine with what you have."

    We nodded. "So, what do we do?"

    "Nightwing will put in the coordinates for the Mountain; you just need to walk through." Batman nodded to us. "If you do join the Team, you will be given permanent access and shown how to use the tubes yourself."

    "Do you want to wear some masks?" Nightwing asked as he approached the console next to the now-named Zeta Tube.

    I shook my head. "What for? We have no secret identities to hide."

    "Fair," Nightwing said as he tapped at the console. He gestured toward the hallway. "Go on through, then. Should be an experience. I remember my first time. You'll get to really feel the aster."

    I blinked. That… was not a turn of phrase I'd learned in my English studies. The what?

    Frost, he's human and maybe your age at most. Let it go,     BlackFire said. She gestured toward the doorway. "So, when should w ego?"

    "Right now, actually," Nightwing said. "Once you walk through, you'll be at the Mountain."

    We exchanged glances again, but we decided together. We might as well go through. It wasn't likely to do anything close to killing us, and at worst, we could just recover from it afterward. As we stepped into the tubed hallway, the rings started to rotate around us, and a voice came on over a speaker.

    "Recognized, BlackFire, G09, FrostShadow G10."

    We stepped further in, and in the blink of an eye, the Batcave vanished. So too did any form of shielding that we had set up. The world disappeared into an ocean of emotion.

    What a disaster.
     
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    • Chapter 18: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 1
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    • 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 18: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 1



    Gibbs tapped my plate as the last step of the unofficial ritual and gave me a thumbs up. After I returned the gesture, the restraints retraced, and I stood from the arming chair. A traitorous part of me felt that it was good to be overseeing a mission again, to be wearing my Polyxo Flight Armor after so long outside my machine shell. Even if I was wearing it in the forward bay of a Household Fleet RP Carrier, a sufferance to any Legion officer.

    Fortunately, I had already regained my airship legs, so even with the weight of the suit I didn't sway as I strode over to the cadet squadron.

    I'd allowed them some Ritualista help, just enough to make the process slow instead of plodding, as well as to make sure no cadet overlooked a step in the preflight procedure. Thankfully, the cadets were very diligent in their checks; I made sure to emphasize the importance of detail in their training. I gave an expansive smile as the cream of Silvan nobility worked with what looked like quiet professionalism. Their tension was admirably low. Despite that, the air was still thick with their focused nervousness, a pungent odor almost smothered under the expected smells of etching compounds, incense, and the ozone tang of energized fuel cells and munitions.

    After nodding to GreyDawn who had just finished suiting up, I clapped to regain the attention of the cadets. "Tonight, the Fleet has been generous enough to act as your transport and even provide a free meal. I'll be brief; you're here because you've started to prove yourselves to no longer be an embarrassment to the Imperial Legions. I haven't had to use the hose in over a month. That said, we will be doing carrier operations. Remember your training, follow Flight Ops' orders for launch and recovery, and you will do fine."

    Short speech over, I stepped aside, unconcerned. I knew all of these cadets could perform carrier landings, at least on a sedate airship circling over an airbase. This was by no means a combat deployment, but there was a bit more risk.

    "Are you giving them the soft-soap?" GreyDawn gruffly asked as she strode up. As my tallest Legion Flier, she cut an imposing figure, especially when encased in advanced Ritual Plate. "Just getting off the ship is the start of your night, girls."

    Pulivia looked up from Lavish's armor and handed the checklist to a purple-skinned cadet to give a double check. "Have the training mission parameters changed?" the jade-haired cadet asked.

    I gave her a thin smile. That was not the most uncommon training trick. Missions would change, often at the last moment, sometimes mid-mission. However, throwing too many surprises defeated the purpose of training. "I may have had a little wager with a Fleet Pilot. It turns out you're not the only training squadron on this airship tonight."

    "What are the stakes, Ma'am?" Lavish asked as she lifted up an arm to allow the feeds of her weapons to be connected and fitted out. Her Flight, Third, was configured in strike mode. I eyed the conformal flasks bolted onto her suit which contained the bracingly powerful alchemically-boosted evocation charges. They were quiescent now and quite stable, but they still represented quiet but potent well of power, contained for now.

    Part of me was... worried about giving a Senator's daughter enough evocative power to blow up a capital ship, but so far she had denied me a sufficient failure to kick her out of the cadet program. After her punishment had turned into a rather diligent analysis and credible presentation on the finer points of Polydora subsystems, Lavish had surprisingly maintained her new focus moving forward. Maybe getting SwiftSapphire's autograph to give to her little sister helped in its way. The MuArc test pilot did have some promotional images of her standing by the Pinnacle test suit.

    Which, in a way, made me even more paranoid. I pushed those feelings down, as my smile grew. "Well, I'm no gambler, so..."

    "She asked for my help," GreyDawn stated. "And I decided to go with something that would be very motivating to a gaggle of young cadets."

    "The tradition is to wager spirits. However, I have little personal use for liquor," I remarked. "But... I can always use more cadets to clean the deck and my armor."

    "Maybe if you embarrass the Legions with your flying, you can become credible Fleet maids," GreyDawn added in pure career centurion dry cynicism.

    I couldn't help but laugh at the expressions of horror on these spoiled nobles. "I think you picked the right stakes for my wager, well done," I bowed my horns to GreyDawn.

    "I can't take all the credit," GreyDawn nodded to the rest of our Flight. I smiled at my two Vs.

    "It was easy," VioletBlood smirked. "I just picked a task that would horrify the most insular, I'm sorry, most cultured members among our fellow peers."

    I thoughtfully nodded.

    " That you think cleaning up on an airship is something to be ashamed of, well... that's punishment enough. After all, anybody who finds a week's worth of menial tasks horrifying, well... I'd hate to see how they would take living in a forward post deep in a stinking jungle for months on end." My baroness flashed her fangs at the cadets, almost all of whom were older than her, casually reasserting her dominance.

    Once my Flight was finally ready, I motioned for my Ritualista to help the maintainers check off the cadet squadron. I also wanted them to triple-check the settings in the cadet's instruments and display suite. Their scrying intake and data compositing had to be set to training mode.

    Over a dozen maintainers helped make the processing go far more speedy, but I still had a chance to step off to the side to talk with GreyDawn. There was an alcove conveniently open into the forward side of the middle port RP maintenance bay out of the way of foot traffic and the maneuvering of carts of munitions, fuel cells, and parts.

    I left VioletBlood in charger of supervising the Cadets. They were not the only ones getting training.

    "Concerns?" GreyDawn quietly asked.

    "Maybe not the ones you're thinking of," I murmured.

    "You're not worried that Pulivia's Flight has charged Lance flasks?"

    "If I was really worried about that I would have grounded them." I exhaled as my tail curled then straightened. "No, they have to start using live ammunition. It's that or kick them out."

    "They have made progress these last couple months," GreyDawn allowed.

    "I know they've gotten a lot more suit time than you ever did before you got deployed."

    My senior pilot shrugged her armored shoulders. "You're right, Ma'am. This is the cadet squadron we have and they've been cleared. I'm pleasantly surprised at how few washouts we've had."

    I nodded. The cadet squadron had two voluntary washouts in the aftermath of my introductory speech two months ago. One had almost immediately taken up my offer to write them a letter of recommendation, if she withdrew from the program.

    The second washout was Cornelia SpiralHorn, the daughter of an Armis Legate who had an incredibly unfortunate problem for a woud-be Ritual Plate Pilot: motion sickness.

    The nausea, vertigo and other issues only came when she was under extraordinary stress, such as when ordnance exploded outside of her suit. And Visha thought the artillery training was just a hazing ritual! We had tried to help her overcome her problem providing the cadet with special tutoring, counseling, and medical evaluation. Ultimately, we had to make the call.

    She was transferred to something more in line with her mother's branch. I had duly sent the letters of recommendation, and one of consolation to Armis Legate SpiralHorn. The letter to Cornelia's instructor at the Castra Frontier's Legion Armor School outlined her potential and her risks. Though if a tank rolled over one of the crew, getting sick was the least of their worries.

    As sad as that was, those were the easy cases. I had been forced to dismiss one of the remaining cadets from the program. GreyDawn made a bit of money off of Visha, who had bet that no one would get ejected. However, GreyDawn lost a few aurei to LoveBlood because it was not Cadet RoseTalon.

    I had managed to avoid being forced to mete any floggings, but the daughter of an executive at Standard Alchemical Products, whose second cousin happened to own the house neighboring my Duchess's Silvan townhouse, came very close.

    Lavish had actually been the one to prevent the insolent girl from challenging me to a duel. Another reason to be upset with Cadet RoseTalon I suppose.

    "You're thinking about Domitia Oesus?" GreyDawn ventured.

    "Am I that obvious?"

    "You are growling, Ma'am."

    I laughed. "At least I just made one noble enemy, and Lady Domitia isn't even landed gentry."

    "No Ma'am, her family merely owns one of the largest chemical processing and fuel extraction conglomerates on Diyu."

    "And now she's in the Fleet learning how to pilot a Hasta bomber."

    GreyDawn's expression and emotions made it blatant that she was skeptical if someone who did not have the attitude to conform to the standards of a Legion Flier would be able to make it as a Fleet Pilot.

    "She will start out training to be a co-pilot, and if she's successful with that, she will have fewer opportunities for her poor judgment to lead her into trouble." Attitude aside, it was a better fit; Domitia could attune to spirits and had taken a lot of expensive tutoring, but in terms of multi-tasking capability she was one of the weakest fliers in my class. Though in more desperate times she likely would have been flogged and thrown into Scouting Branch to fill out the complement of a Venture scout airship watching some backwater colony.

    "Yes, and if she challenges you to a duel once she becomes a qualified Ventus Centurion?"

    I shrugged. "It would be tedious but I could manage."

    "And if Domitia purchases her own Hasta bomber and a pair of Fujiwara Torpedoes? Or maybe she simply loads her bomb bays with five tons of Vel missiles?"

    My tail stilled. "That would be..."

    "Ruinously expensive," GreyDawn's eye glinted. "But if she still holds a grudge after earning her Ventus qualification and then decides to liquidate her inheritance for a bird and dozens and dozens of missiles, well, that would be challenging."

    I just stared. "That is crazy." Such a duel would be absurd, but a Hasta bomber could replace two Fujiwaras it normally carried with half a dozen pods full of Vel missiles. The exchange of range for capacity had some real potential and turned a Torpedo bomber into an air defense platform with nearly two hundred missiles. It was an anti RP concept we were not the first to explore, nor the last in all probability.

    "Honestly, it's a smarter move on her part than buying her own RP suit, getting tutoring, joining a mercenary guild and biding her time. I would take odds on you against any sell-sword Pilot."

    "But a bomber full of anti-air missiles is another story?" I asked while pondering. The Hasta had some limitations in a local air defense role; it was designed to fire standoff weapons, not clouds of relatively short range missiles. However, that very missile loadout would make it a somewhat thorny target, even more so if it were escorted by RP suits providing additional protection and targeting data. Something I was counting on for tonight.

    GreyDawn cracked a smile. "As you say, it's absurd."

    "Lovely." I rubbed my face. "No cadet, current, former, traitorous or otherwise, is not my primary concern with this training mission"

    "Location?"

    "That's it."

    "We are over a hundred miles from the border," GreyDawn mused.

    "So we have a few minutes' warning. And the target location is well within Shoreline Province, but we're going to be over Lacus Superum."

    "You're worried about the cadets accidentally leaving the training area?"

    "They'll have to really get far off course to enter Elenese airspace, but I don't want to be surprised if someone starts to... wander."

    GreyDawn nodded. "Understood."

    "And I do mean wander, they're going to be under a lot of pressure and juggling a lot of balls, and things could slip their mind."

    "Drifting that far of course?"

    "Doubtful, but that's why I want eyes to catch anything before it becomes a problem. We'll punish them for any failures later."

    "You don't sound very confident about your wager," a Fleet Pilot said playfully as she strode up to us, clad in her Polyxo suit. Primus Centurion Horatia Wencesla was several times my senior age-wise, but still about my height.

    There was a smirk on the woman's finely delicate features, but her green eyes were warm. "It's good to see you, Countess," she then bowed her horns in greeting to GreyDawn.

    "Primus," I nodded to the Fleet Pilot, "and this time, we meet under pleasant circumstances."

    She laughed. "Yes, there are worse things than babysitting cadets."

    "You haven't seen ours, Ma'am," GreyDawn murmured.

    Wencesla shrugged. "Plenty of prissy little fops go into the Fleet. Maybe more, given our reputation for softer racks, better food, and no mud. You did agree to wager against my lot."

    "Not to mention the prettier uniforms," I stated. Wencesla was likely looking at her own squadron command. While she was much older than me, she had only a decade more experience as a Pilot, that did put her at a more typical advancement rate.

    "Yes, Fleet whites are spiffy." Her green eyes sparkled. "You have concerns?"

    "We should keep an extra eye on our cadets, and be mindful of our location."

    "We will be over water for most of the training," Wencesla nodded. "Border issues aside, if one of them has to ditch it'll be harder to splash down than land in some forest."

    "Depends on the forest," GreyDawn stated.

    "Shoreline Province's woodlands are pretty tame," I noted. "Lot of farming, old growths are further south anyway. The coastal lowlands would be pretty fine to walk out of.

    "Provided you survive the crash," Wencesla's tone was quite dry.

    "Obviously, if you don't survive, you no cause for worry." I glanced back to the arming chairs and caught Visha's eye. She gave a thumbs up.

    "Impressive skill in suiting up," Wencesla said observing my Cadets.

    "To get them to keep from dawdling, incentives have been used during that module of their training, with greater penalties for mistakes," I gave a toothy smile, "while most of the equipment in a Maintenance Bay is not quite waterproof, field expedient arming chairs absolutely are."

    Wencesla blinked. "Did you turn fire hoses on them?"

    "Of course not," I said, horrified. "That would be a waste of critical damage control equipment."

    "Not to mention the water pressure might damage something," GreyDawn stated.

    "But tapping into a hangar's grey water return line, on the other hand..." I shrugged.

    Wencesla shook her head. A moment later one of her Flight came up to her and said that her cadets were ready.

    "Shall we go to the briefing room and tell the girls what they're really going to be doing tonight?" I suggested.

    ++++++++++

    We were on the Mellona class medium carrier HFV Hornet. As Ritual Plate carriers went, I was rather fond of the Mellona class. Capable of deploying and maintaining a light wing of six Squadrons, it had better facilities than the Damocles light carrier or the tiny Kolibri patrol carrier. At the same time, it was faster and far more common than the higher capacity Nova fleet carriers or the hulking Avalon heavy carriers.

    Much of the Hornet was set aside for this training mission, including the briefing rooms which Wencesla, myself, and our Flights strode into. Unlike some of the frankly ridiculous tiered auditoriums on an Avalon, this was just a room with several rows of seating, enough for forty occupants all told. Though I suppose in the Avalon class's defense, when you had a crew of over three thousand supporting an RP Air Group of nearly four hundred Pilots, faculties with a higher capacity were useful. They could double as recreational amenities for one.

    The two oversized cadet squadrons only took up the first third of the seating. Despite the chairs being reinforced to bear the weight of Ritual Plate to a pilot the cadets chose to stand in their Polydora suits.

    "We'll make this brief," Wencesla stated as a map appeared on the wall projection behind her. It was a diagram of the part of central Lacus Superum we were flying over. The sprawling great lake bordered four Great Houses and had many islands and fjord-like arms. There was a rippling groan from the cadets as they digested the symbols on the map, specifically the ones denoting targets and opposing forces.

    "As some of you have feared, there will be a slight change in tonight's plans." Wencesla almost sounded apologetic.

    "At least this time there won't be any artillery," I joked. I smiled at the hearty laughs from my cadets while the Fleet girls glanced about and could at most muster nervous chuckles.

    "Quite," Wencesla nodded to me. It was nice to have someone I did not have to look up to. "Your target locations are only notional. It will be up to you to find the actual spot. Please note that the targets are still within the clearly demarcated confines of the Adria Testing Range; both the land and water parts."

    "For those of you with itchy tails I have good news and bad news," I gave a smile. "You will have to face opposition while you take out your targets. Because this is a live-fire exercise we will be using both enemies simulated on your instruments and display as well as training drones."

    There was some murmuring.

    "Now, since these remote operated golems were provided by the Fleet it's not my budget that gets it if you knock them out of the sky," I continued, noting that while my bloodthirsty nobles relished the chance to destroy some flying enemy, any flying enemy, Cadet Pulivia was thoughtfully studying the map. Hopefully, she realized that no one had said what kind of training drones were being used.

    House BlackSky had a large variety of training aides, mostly designed to augment opposing force training and simulating enemy capabilities, if not in full performance then in areas of maneuvering and relative-observability. Several shortfalls in the drone's capacity could be made up for by tweaking and supplementing a Pilot's display. Modern BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate was designed for data sharing, which gave great training potential.

    It also was a vulnerability if our comm systems were compromised. That was why a suit's own scrying intake was processed separately and took primacy when displaying data. This was also why a Ritualista had to manually change settings to enable the training mode, simulated enemies would still be marked as such, but they would not be filtered as spurious.

    Wencesla gave a prim smile. "These are target drones, destroying them is anticipated. However, if you destroy anything other than designated targets then you will face the full weight of the BlackSkyvian military law."

    The apprehension grew on the cadets. Giving a warm, toothy smile to reassure them I gestured to the map. "The entirety of the live-fire portion will take place within the bounds of the Adria Testing Range. You will have plenty of buffer between the range and the border to the joint airspace zone." I pointed to the wide strip that ran east to west across the middle of the great lake. By agreement of the four Houses bordering the lake, it was an area cleared for free air transit. There was a similar waterborne trade corridor for shipping, both passenger and cargo, down on the lake's surface.

    "If your navigation system fails you will contact Flight Ops and one of the instructor Flights. You will then drop out of the mission. If your comms system fails you will use your warning lights to signal distress, and drop out of the training exercise. If you see a fellow Pilot in distress you will report it to Flight Ops. The Hornet will have a Search and Recovery team on standby.

    "Let us go over your approach corridors and what you'll know about your targets," Wencesla adjusted the projection and a couple vectors appeared.

    "You will have your pick of a number of cleared approaches into the testing range." This time my smile had more teeth. "I strongly suggest that you use the opportunity to pick an approach path that maximizes your ability to find your targets and to evade the enemy forces."

    "Speaking of which, here is what we can tell you," Wencesla said, beginning her explanation of the variety of simulated opposing forces. Most were second line Elenese airborne assets. That still allowed for a good mix of Ritual Plate and airframes, both golem and piloted.

    Noting the cadets' disquiet at being outnumbered and dealing with enemy patrols, I took the baton. "We cannot give you locations of your strike targets because they are moving."

    There was a sigh from the cadets but the map had made that much clear. Sharing a glance, Wencesla and myself decided to let that pass. Pilots were allowed some small measure to, quietly, grumble when the Brass Horns gave them frustrating orders.

    "There is a squadron of old remote-operated Yew Patrol boats motoring in the Testing range. You will find these small craft, which will be marked in the following way," I updated the display to show the cross hatch paint job that had been applied to the boats, "forward your scrying data to Flight Ops. You will hold your fire until you receive positive confirmation. "

    Looking cocky, RoseTalon gave a confident nod.

    "Yes cadets, your two strike-equipped Flights have more than enough Lance strikes to take out this many small unwarded boats. Please ruminate on that. Any questions?"

    Wencesla shot me a mildly surprised look.

    Cadet Optio Lady Pulivia VibrantFang lifted a hand. One of the more promising cadets, she was a third daughter to a Duchess with considerable holdings in Lentia Province, if I remembered correctly. "If we lose all of our Lance-equipped Polydora, will it be possible to proxy hit the targets using the weapons on our other suits?"

    I nodded. "That will not count as a destruction of the target, but for the purposes of this exercise, enough Ballista hits it will count as a mobility kill which will be a partial score."

    "Any others?" Wencelsa asked in a tone that indicated she would strongly prefer if there were no more questions. She glanced at the clock on the bulkhead. "Outstanding. Everyone up and make their way to the Launchers."

    "Legion Fliers to the port Launchers, Fleet Pilots to the starboard," I ordered, feeling a bit generous by not calling them cadets.

    The two squadrons slipped their helmets on and helped get the latches and catches around their horns. Though I did note that my cadets were a bit smoother in that evolution.

    Another nice aspect of the Mellona class's design was that the walk from the pilot briefing rooms to the Launchers was rather simple and could be done without overly blocking up the corridors, even if it did require going around a Torpedo room.

    I had my Flight split up. Each of us stood before one of the port Launchers and preformed one last check on the cadets and their suits. A visual inspection would only detect the most egregious of failures in fitting out, but it also gave me a chance to make sure the instructors were getting valid telemetry from their suits.

    Satisfied, I gave a nod to the daughter of the head of the Mason and Runewright Guild as she stepped past me, across the hazard stripes and into the launch tube. A Fleet rating checked to make sure her feet were secured into the catapult's shuttle.

    "Lovely night," I said as Cadet RoseTalon stepped up. "Lift your arms up," I commanded her so I could inspect their articulation for any disconnects. "Do a pilé."

    "What?" Even wearing a full mask I knew Lavish was confused.

    "A dip: turn out your legs at the hip joints, then bend your knees over your toes. Mind your balance, but try to bend deeply while keeping your spine straight," I stated as the haughty cadet complied.

    "Ah, a mobility check," she nodded after I confirmed she could stand back up.

    "And a basic ballet move," I flatly stated. She would have known this if she had taken my advice and signed up for the War College ballet troupe. But, that a senator's daughter was not familiar with this part of high culture was interesting in and of itself.

    Before she could even think about a retort to cover up her faux pas of showing cultural ignorance, the Fleet rating waved at her.

    I slapped her on the armored shoulder. "Go, we don't have all night."

    Still confused, Lavish stomped over to the catapult.

    I focused on giving a final check of the next cadet. There were only a couple more before everyone would be in the air. And even Lavish could ride a launcher.

    Soon it was down to just my Flight. We slipped on our helmets and went up to the launchers. I linked my comms with Flight Ops and the voice of the fleet officer in the port forward observation overseeing launch operations came in. "Diamond Flight, you have a clearance to launch."

    "Confirm Ops, how is Training Squadron Two looking?" I asked more out of camaraderie and tradition. I could see the status of the four Flights of Legion cadets on my display, as well as Wencelsa's girls.

    "They're still in the air," Flight Ops dryly replied as the Fleet rating checked that my boots were secured into the catapult's shuttle.

    I reflexively tensed and locked myself into the bladed bent-forward position as I spun up my Zephyr. My wings strained. There was a countdown, the lights flashed, and suddenly I was shooting down the launch tube.

    My Zephyr added to the acceleration and I shot smoothly out into the night.

    The carrier vanished behind me as I formed up with my Flight. The water was deceptively calm, far below our boots. The larger moon, Emuria, hung nearly full far above our helmets, while her consort Lantia was but a small crescent peeping out across the sky.

    "With the boffins back on Hornet handling the opposing force we'll be taking care of our cadets," I said over the Flight Channel.

    "Each of us still taking a Flight to monitor?" VioletBlood asked.

    "Correct," I glanced over my display. One instructor proctoring a Flight of four would allow for her to keep an eye on their performance. "But we won't be splitting up."

    "You don't want to have us hovering right over their wings?" Visha asked.

    "More that she doesn't want us to split up into lone units," GreyDawn suggested.

    "That's correct, at worst we'll split up into pairs, but even on a training mission I don't want us to get into the habit of flying alone," I said, then switched to the command channel. "Diamond Actual to Jade Actual. Wencelsa, how are we looking?"

    "I trust you can read a display as well as I, Countess," Wencelsa dryly replied.

    "They're doing things by the book," I allowed, double-checking the formations the two squadrons had taken. Each had three Flights of fighter-configured Polydora and one Flight strike-configured. Both Squadrons had fallen into a staggered escort box with the strike Flight in the center with two Flights running ahead at different altitudes and the last Flight running close-protection.

    "Safe, uninspired, and easy to maintain." Wencelsa paused. "But that's why the formation's in the book. Those are all positives."

    "Most of the time," I agreed. "At least they're staying in the corridor and trying to scout."

    "Leading elements in that formation are too tight for scouting," Wencelsa noted.

    "They'll learn or they won't," I noted with a verbal shrug. There were other solutions. They could reduce the escorts to a pair of Flights and send one Flight out as scouts, but that had limited coverage even if they split the Flight into two pairs. So much of command boiled down to managing finite resources.

    "Flight Ops confirm status of OpFor?" Wencelsa asked. Our displays showed the locations of the various drones, but if the staff back on Hornet were not ready to play the simulation, then this would be a very easy exercise indeed for our cadets.

    "OpFor team is ready. They're confirming uplink right now," the smooth voice of the dispatcher responded.

    "Interesting," I noted. My display updated as the marks denoting where the enemy Ritual Plate would be appeared, but only part of my attention was on that.

    "Oh?" Wencelsa paused. "You're not looking at the sims." She got a bit of playful irritation. "Your people aren't passing hints to Cadet SkySpear are they?"

    "Not unless yours are passing notes to your cadets," I lightly replied.

    Cadet Optio Baroness SkySpear, daughter of a Navarch in command of a Grand Fleet Emuria formation consisting of multiple Landing Defense Flotillas and a Bombardment Flotilla, was the squadron commander for tonight. Pulivia VibrantFang was her second in command and was also in charge of the strike Flight.

    And it seemed that one of them, or both, had ordered the forward Flights of their squadron further out and in a broader formation that covered more airspace.

    My Flight and Wencelsa's were largely focused on our respective cadet Squadrons. Both entered the Adria Testing Range's airspace without issue and started running a search pattern. Reassuringly, neither group of cadets went on a direct vector to the last known location of their mission targets.

    They swung around in two formations that, despite the competition, were mutually supporting. They were a bit more cautious than I expected for their experience level, but it was a balancing act. The more circuitous, or cautious, their route made it less likely they would be jumped, but that meant their mission would take that much longer, giving the OpFor more opportunities to find them.

    And the enemy was going to find them, which was a whole other factor. If you knew it was going to be a contested mission, then positioning was vital.

    "They've detected the Svarog Flights running picket," I noted as the forward two of my Cadet Flights pulled back into a more protective positioning as an equal number of, simulated, Elenese light anti-air Ritual Plate pursued them.

    "First blood goes to yours," Wencelsa noted as SkySpear's wingwoman took out a Svarog. The Fleet officer then gave a whistle when she saw the rest of SkySpear's personal Flight pin the other three Svarogs with a chasing engagement. The other escorting cadets dashed over, plunged down, and cut through the virtual enemies. Those suits cleared off the cadet's displays as the hits were registered by Flight Ops

    "Well done," Wencelsa admitted.

    "They had a numerical and positional advantage. And the early Svarogs lacked the hardening necessary to compensate for their lack of higher-envelope maneuverability," I said, not at all defensively. The Svarog was not a bad design, as a ground attack suit. It was relatively inexpensive, but the first iterations had been pressed into a supporting anti-air role that they struggled with.

    "I have the boffins simulating current Svarogs, ones that aren't death traps," Wencelsa stated wistfully.

    I laughed, not at all nervously. "One moment." I switched over to the channels for my cadets' First and Second Flights. "Commendable work girls. Those were peer level suits you went up against. But don't get all fat-tailed about it, you did outnumber them."

    "Thank you, Ma'am. Understood," SkySpear's voice clearly came out, it might have been a bit strained as she kept her composure. Well, she was managing a whole heavy Squadron. Their channel was free of idle chatter. Good, the comms discipline lessons might have stuck.

    I switched back to my Flight channel and there was a pregnant silence.

    "That was a... colorful motivational message," Visha remarked. "Brief but turgid."

    I blinked but before I could reply...

    "This isn't the first time the Countess has used her tail to motivate a poor baroness cadet!" VioletBlood wailed, humorously overwrought except for the hint of prickly jealousy.

    "It was very inspiring, Ma'am. Just bursting with the proud traditions of the Imperial Legions," GreyDawn drawled.

    "I didn't use my tail!" I gasped.

    "Don't worry,' GreyDawn assured. "You're a Legionary Flier, being a bit crass can be forgiven, especially in the heat of the moment."

    "Maybe tutoring lessons twice a week at Mima Lumina Academy isn't enough," VioletBlood mused.

    "That's enough, LoveBlood," I tried not to growl. In abstract, I understood the role of etiquette lessons for young nobles, but I was a Centurion and I had gotten plenty of cultural refinement as part of becoming a Soloist in the Ballet Troupe. What was the point of becoming a ballerina if you couldn't use that to prove you were plenty ladylike?

    "Yes, Primus Centurion Countess," she soberly stated.

    I let that slide and focused my attention on the tactical map.

    The Fleet Cadets had taken out their own Svarog Flight, but the OpFor had gotten quite close to their Strike assets and it had taken the Cadets multiple passes with their escort units to take them out. The problem was that even with their Veils up and a reasonably large amount of airspace, the OpFor commander would know something was wrong.

    The locations where two of her Flights were destroyed was a clear indication of an oncoming attack. And hence, both Cadet Squadrons dropped in altitude and slowed their speeds increased their Veils. It was a fair plan to break contact and try to relocate.

    The sum of the OpFor's simulated scrying intakes would show there were no nearby enemy units, when they scanned the cadet's vicinity, but they knew they were out there. If the OpFor had a scrying specialist unit like the Mokosh, the cadets could still be tracked, Veiled or otherwise, even if the rough Elenese equivalent of our Occultia was relatively rare. House Elena preferred to use the Yaryla whenever they could.

    A mid-sized aircraft with a crew of three, the Yaryla obviously had a far larger footprint than the Mokosh and required a runway, albeit a short one, but it had a greater endurance than a Ritual Plate, and was the less expensive option.

    The Cadet Squadrons raced over the waves. My students had taken the leading edge position and seemed like they wanted to push as fast as they could without compromising their stealth. I knew they would accelerate to full dash speed once they decided that they had broken contact.

    Meanwhile, Wencelsa's girls were more cautious and from the way their formation had spread just a bit more and had taken the lower altitude slot, I could see they were being more cautious, as if they could sneak up to their targets for a surprise strike.

    As far as plans went, it wasn't entirely wrongheaded, but if they wanted to work in cooperation with the Legionary students they needed to coordinate their overall doctrine: speed or stealth. The rest of my Pilots were busy evaluating their assigned trainee Flights so I checked in on SkySpear's channel.

    "It makes more sense if we work this way," SkySpear stated.

    "But what about the bet?" The Fleet Cadet paused. "If we do this, aren't you kinda throwing the wager?"

    "DarkStar's Blood! I don't care if I have to play maid on an airship! Do you think the Countess really cares? The mission is key and the odds are not in our favor."

    There was a pause. "Fine."

    SkySpear's tone softened. "Balbina, you already want to go with the cautious strategy. If I've learned one thing is: make the best decision you can, the quickest you can and then commit fully.

    "Right," the Fleet Cadet sounded more confident. "We'll separate, but take a curving approach; that'll minimize the separation with my Squadron being slower."

    "Fine," SkySpear laughed.

    I gave a thin smile. It sounded like they were embracing their differences in tactics. The Legion Cadets would go in fast and loud, while the Fleet would sneak in. It was not a terrible plan. One Squadron would provide a diversion and depending on the attacking force the other Squadron could reinforce or dash to the target boats.

    However, there was a flaw to the cadets' plan: two of the drones flying out there were standing in proxy for a formation of Yaryla recon aircraft. The cadets' Veils were less effective than they had assumed. The question was how the cadets would react when it was clear that their Poyldora were being picked up at greater range than they expected.

    The OpFor had repositioned their recon assets, regained contact with the intruding formations, and was vectoring in interceptors.... now. The instructor display updated as a squadron of Perun strike suits accelerated towards both cadet squadrons. That would be a bad force balance for the simulated RP, except the Opfor had support. Two other drones were filling in for a pair of Kupala air-defense bombers.

    Something like a smaller, greater-ranged Hasta, the Kupala was mostly a platform for carrying anti-air missiles, though it could work in a direct bomber role. It had a crew of two and had about two-thirds the payload capacity of a Hasta.

    Its main function was to provide extra firepower for forward air units who sent back targeting data. It could fight by itself, but that came with far greater exposure which was rather risky for an airframe optimized as a long-endurance, ordnance transport.

    "Everyone keep an eye on your cadets," I said over my Flight channel. Back on the Hornet, all of this was being recorded. Our presence was to give direct impressions, notes, and as a quick reaction in case anything went wrong. We also just happened to be between the cadets and the nearest border out of the Testing Range.

    It worked the other way, just in case some aircraft tried to wander into restricted airspace. And while most of the traffic was to the north in the joint transit corridor, the sky was rarely truly empty.

    "If mine even get through this," VioletBlood noted. She had been assigned to the Flight with the strike-equipped Polyxo that had Pulivia, Lavish, and two rather promising cousins, both from a ranching concern that was one of the larger land-owners in Rundani Province.

    "They've still got good escorts," I stated a second too soon as a Pilot in Flight Two was shot down. "Visha?"

    "Already on it," she said before switching to the Pilot's channel to give her the heading to exit the Testing Range and return to the Hornet. They would be vectored with the pair of Fleet cadets who had been knocked out shortly before them.

    At least it was not too far of a journey, since we were still in the more northern expanses of the Adria Testing Range. Realizing they had all been detected, the two squadrons formed up, seemingly as they spotted the Kupala bombers.

    I switched back to SkySpear's channel. "Yes, Pulvia I am risking your Flight," the cadet-leader stated with just a bit of a frustrated edge in her tone. "But you're our longest ranged weapons and if you don't take out those bombers then we'll never make it to the target boats. Execute."

    Good. Someone was thinking. "Balbina I need you to send your strike Flight out, with escort," SkySpear transmitted to the head of the Fleet cadet Squadron. "Transmitting you coordinates now. We've got a window before the Kupalas can launch their missiles."

    "I'll send one Flight to do close escort for them and commit the other two to help you finish the Perun RP," came the strained reply. It sounded like she was pulling a fair G load. Glancing at the display did confirm her suit was doing an impressive maneuver to avoid being bracketed by simulated fire.

    Despite their simulated opponents being an older version of the Perun, it was still a strike suit, which meant that they had a fair bit of range, even with their lower-powered higher capacity loadout. But an early heavy strike suit versus fighter-configured Polydora was a reasonable challenge, in my opinion at least.

    "Break... Break. Break!" SkySpear shouted as her squadron split in twain, half committed to keeping the enemy RP engaged while the rest dashed off to take out those bombers. The Fleet Cadets were not quite as smooth when they executed a similar maneuver.

    It was a bold plan and one of their better plans for dealing with an enemy with superior fire support. And it was not like SkySpear dismissed the concept that the enemy bombers would have their own escorts. She sent both Third and Fourth Flights.

    Which was reasonable, as there was a Flight of Svarog protecting the two Kupala air-defense bombers.

    Pulivia had command of the two Flight detachment and showed no hesitation. She actually accelerated her Flight and fired a pair of Lances at the Svarogs while speeding at max velocity towards the bombers, which turned slightly and the display was suddenly full of a stream of virtual missiles.

    Losses started to come in for both cadet teams. Mostly on their run against the bombers but the forces left to finish off the Prun Squadron had a couple casualties. But then six Lances from the strike-Polydoras stabbed out and blasted apart the two drones. The explosions were satisfying and the tactical display shifted just a tiny bit to respond to the loss of their scrying input.

    And VioletBlood was directing Optio Cadet Lavish RoseTalon back to the carrier. In Lavish's defense she did score the best hit on the second bomber. At the cost of getting closer and holding a flight path that was a bit too predictable.

    The remaining missiles were easier to evade as they had to fall back on their onboard guidance. Soon, both formations of virtual enemies had been mopped up and a pair of no longer over-strength cadet squadrons reunited.

    "Two bombers in the drink," Pulivia proudly reported.

    "Outstanding work, Flight Leader," SkySpear replied with perhaps a touch too much gusto but I could not blame her for having her blood up.

    "Ma'am, I suggest that we proceed and find the targets with best speed," Pulivia suggested.

    "Oh?" the Cadet squadron commander for this exercise asked.

    "The enemy was still on us, I don't think we ever dropped off their displays," Pulivia suggested. "That means one of two things."

    SkySpear sighed. "And our Countess is tough, but she's not a cheater."

    "Not with an evaluation," Pulivia agreed. Well, that was reassuring.

    "Right, good call Flight Leader," SkySpear switched to the other Flight leaders and patched into her equivalent on the Fleet Squadron. "Everyone, it looks like the enemy has some long range, or low observable, scrying systems. It has been suggested that we make best speed to the targets given all the remaining enemy assets have to be well aware of where we are."

    "I.... agree," a gasping voice came in from the Fleet end. Checking the identification, I saw that she was the second in command of the Fleet Squadron. Ah, yes, her superior had been taken out in that last action. Well, learning how to take sudden command was part of the training.

    "Everyone take a quick drink," Pulvia suggested.

    "Thank you, Flight Leader," SkySpear sounded a bit chastised. "Alright, here's the course. It's not the most direct but it gives us a good time-savings and with the right formation, we can try to punch through whatever they'll put up."

    "But what about the competition?" a Fleet Flight leader asked.

    "It's a distraction, a head game to see how we react," Puliva dismissed. "Do you have any idea how expensive this test is? Do you really think people like our instructors really care about some bet involving us playing maids?"

    "Agreed," SkySpear stated. "You have your orders Optios, get to it! Fleet Leader, I've folded my Second and Fourth Flights together into one unit. I suggest you do something similar with your losses."

    I gave a thin smile. Their plan was direct. But they had shown a fair skill at coordination and now were able to take casualties without shattering. At least simulated ones.

    "It is good that they have such an inspiring instructor," GreyDawn noted over my Flight's channel.

    "You think just because the Flight you're babysitting doesn't exist that you don't have any work to do?" I asked with a touch of humor.

    "The Legions' capacity to create work is infinite," GreyDawn groused.

    "I think they've got heart!" Visha chirped.

    "That's only because we haven't dropped the hammer on them," VioletBlood purred.

    "Diamond Actual. Diamond Actual. This is Flight Ops," a smooth voice said on the override transmission.

    "This is Diamond," I stated and reflexively went over the map. For all they had been fighting, the cadets looked to be in no actual danger. A few were actually well on their way back to the carrier. Was there a problem where they couldn't land on the Hornet? Couldn't they be diverted to one of the escorting airships then? Other than the remaining drones and us, the sky seemed clear. There was some traffic north of us in the transit corridor. Oh.

    "A patrol from one of our Venture scouts detected possible observer craft at the following coordinates," the dispatchers stated in the same tone as if she were giving me a weather check or telling me that an enemy battle group had teleported in.

    "Confirm. That's on the border?" I inquired.

    "Yes, Diamond Flight. The scrying intake shows they're moving in a rough racetrack pattern. Our estimate is a light Elenese Recon Squadron consisting of a Flight of Mokosh RP plus escorts."

    "Understood. Thanks for the heads up Flight Ops."

    There was a pause. "Actually Diamond Flight, Praefectus Commodore HoofBridge requests that you go out and investigate."

    "She does," I stated. Lady Eliza Bellus HoofBridge captained the HFV Hornet, and while she was not directly in my chain of command, for the purposes of this joint training mission her requests had weight.

    I sipped some water. "Will the training exercise be canceled?"

    "No. Flight Ops is vectoring our Combat Air Patrol and launching out standby Flights to provide more support. Scouting assets from a second Venture are also being repositioned with a detachment of escort elements."

    "Understood. Diamond Flight will investigate the possible incursion," I declared, putting emphasis on that word. I wanted to make it clear on Hornet's flight record that I was not going out with the intention of engaging the Elenese forces. It would take a little bit of time for one of the Hornet's escorting Kolibri class corvettes to get into position, but I wasn't too proud to take Fleet backup.

    "That's what the Praefectus Lady wanted to hear," Flight Ops said, a bit of color entering the dispatcher's voice.

    ++++++++++

    Raging against my fate, I gave a tiny internal scream. Of course some aggressive hard-charging Fleet Officer would throw the Heroine Countess, the youngest bearer of the Preserver Crown, at some Elenese spies to make them flee, tails between their legs.

    After taking a few calming breaths, I exhaled and switched channels. "Jade Actual. Jade Actual."

    "Flight Ops was also informing me," Wencelsa stated. "My Flight will take over proctoring the rest of the training mission. We're in the endgame anyway."

    "Thanks, we'll go over the results afterwards?" I asked.

    "Will do. I do wish my Flight got requested as well."

    I made a noncommittal noise. "Well, with all this chaos and with the final challenges for our students, more of them will be flying back to the Hornet. It would not be imprudent if your flight moves a bit further North to make sure none of them... strayed on their return flight."

    Wencelsa laughed. "Understood, Countess. Happy hunting."

    Sighing I cursed the absurd reputation I had accrued, and went to the Flight channel. "Change of plans. An Elenese Recon Squadron is camping by the border in the free transit corridor, and Flight Ops and Hornet Actual have requested that we investigate them," I stated as I shared our new heading.

    "I see," GreyDawn noted there was a pause as she digested our course. "Ah," she stated with some approval. Reading the nuances of a map-plot was trivial for a Pilot with her experience. I had no intention to get into a saber-rattling across the border with elements from the one Diyu Great House larger than ours.

    "Yes, Countess," VioletBlood acknowledged, a bit of a pout in her voice, "But we should be ready for Elenese trickery." Of course she was disappointed. It was that reputation for bloody-minded aggression that had gotten us into this mess, a reputation that preceded us to the point some Fleet Officer thought we would be perfect to throw at some Recon Squadron to get them to scurry back to their side of Lacus Superum.

    "Our role is to assess them and determine their intentions, not to get into a shootout," I stated as we flew out of the restricted airspace of the Testing Range. Wencelsa's Flight was moving slower, not quite on our heels, purely to make sure that no cadets strayed too far north.

    "They're clearly watching our training mission to determine our intentions," Visha pointed out. It was true; the Adria Testing Range was rather close to the border and little that occurred here could reasonably be considered secret. Which was why House BlackSky had far more private testing ranges, some of which that weren't even on Diyu.

    "But why else are they here?" I asked. "Intel has it that they have a full Flight of Mokosh Recon suits out. That's an expensive and high demand bit of kit. If they just wanted to watch some training exercises, they could have stuck a Yaryla Recon aircraft in the transit corridor."

    "Maybe the Hornet's skipper's request has more going for it than we first thought," GreyDawn murmured. "We are all equipped with Gorgon Rigs, that would give us more of an idea of what's out there."

    An officer who thought herself clever was many times worse than one who was all blood, viscera, and glory. "You aren't helping my calm, Centurion. I suppose that's what happens when I push to get us with the best suits and scrying kit."

    "Sorry, Ma'am, but someone who runs a carrier would know Elena using their special Recon assets would be a reason to... investigate."

    I pondered over the map display. Even at max dash, which we were not traveling at, it would take some time to get to where the Elenese squadron was waiting. That presumed they were there in the ten or so minutes our slower and slightly less direct path would take.

    "It's going to be rather hard to hide from a Flight of Recon suits even if they're using passive scrying," GreyDawn stated. "Their Mokosh isn't as good as our Occultia but if they were watching our training mission then they already know we left."

    "That's why we're not even trying," I stated. "With Fleet assets repositioning, even if we went under full Veil and broke contact they would have the strong suspicion that someone had been sent out to investigate."

    "But we don't want to go in full-bore?" Visha asked.

    "Negative. A direct charge is a known course, and we don't know what else is lurking out there," I stated. As the largest Great House, one underestimated House Elena at one's peril. "We may have been tasked with poking them with a stick, but I see no reason to go about it rashly."

    "Also charging right in makes us seem desperate and panicked," VioletBlood added. "If they smell fear, the double-faced curs will attack."

    "Broadly put," I allowed.

    "Shame none of us are configured for Lance Strikes, that might give us more options," VioletBlood pondered.

    "It is a trade-off. Right now I'm happy we have uniform capabilities and are optimized for air to air." My intentions were to avoid combat, but I had long ago learned that what I wanted had little to do with what actually happened.

    We grew quiet as we continued to fly across the dark surface of the lake. The various icons on my map display slowly, inexorably moved, vast distances making even the fastest of Ritual Plate seem slow. The training exercise was reaching its bloody, simulated, conclusion. I guess I would have to congratulate the cadets. The HFV Hornet and her escorts, Combat Air Patrol, and Scouts shifted to more advantageous positions.

    And that Elenese Recon Squadron continued to circle the sky in a lazy, elongated oval right on the border. Until suddenly, their scrying systems went from passive to active. Most of their focus was on our direction. It had to be more than just a paranoid reaction.

    "I don't think they lit their Mokoshs up like Yule trees just for us," GreyDawn remarked, echoing my sentiment. Plenty of House BlackSky's major, and minor, religions had winter holidays, including a Remembrance Day in the Church of DarkStar, the very traditional Saturnalia, and a Midnight Mass observed by the Silvan diocese.

    "They're sending a message to us, want to be sure we're not hiding any Veiled assets or..." I frowned. "Keep an eye on your scrying intake, with the output of four Recon suits there's going to be a lot of interference." A very crude analogy was that they had shined four bright flashlights on us, that made them very obvious as we could see them in the light-up night, but it was blinding.

    "They're flying the same pattern: fat and happy, showing off for all of Diyu. They're up to something," VioletBlood spat. "It's a treaty volition at the very least."

    "That is... correct. Good point, LoveBlood," I noted. Per the terms of the Four Party Agreement that set the borders within Lacus Superum, that Squadron was technically within the joint transit corridor, but that corridor was just that. Parties entering it had to use it to go from one port to another. There were some exceptions, like surface fishing vessels, but fisheries agreements were a whole other batch of issues.

    "Flight Ops. Flight Ops. Diamond Actual here. Has there been any communication with the Elenese Squadron?" I asked.

    "That is a negative, Diamond Actual."

    "Would the Praefectus Commodore Lady HoofBridge object if I entered into communications with our guests?"

    "One moment." There was a brief pause and in a shorter time than I expected the dispatcher replied. "Hornet Actual has no objection."

    "Confirm." I went back to the Flight Channel. "Which of you speaks Thokavian the best? Visha?" For my plan to work. it was best that the message was delivered in Elena's own language. My wingwoman had grown up on an island near their sphere of influence. Until Elena had conquered it, of course, in order to secure another natural harbor.

    "After joining the Legions, I did get some additional training to build on what I learned in school," Visha admitted.

    "Excellent!" I cheered. "I have a simple message for you to deliver."

    A couple minutes later, Visha started transmitting on the unencrypted open channel. "Unidentified Elenese Ritual Plate Squadron. Are you in need of assistance due to mechanical, arcane, or navigational fault?"

    After a moment of silence, Visha continued, sounding rather natural, at least far better than I was at the slippery language. "At your altitude, you are a navigational hazard in the transit corridor. If your comms are down please flash your warning lights and we can provide assistance."

    We were close enough to have reasonable locations and headings of the members of the Elenese Squadron. To my great disappointment, there was no signaling via their lights. However, their formation did shift with one Flight ranging out as if to intercept or screen, but then they pulled back.

    "Guess, they remembered the proper reaction to being asked if you need help is not to charge across the border," GreyDawn laughed.

    "That rattled them," I noted with some disquiet. I gave the orders to increase speed and shift to a more direct heading. "Visha, repeat the offer to help our friends, if you please."

    With my wingwoman transmitting again, as chipper as one could be, I took a moment to study the map. The data was not perfect. The active scrying pulses from the Elenese Recon suits were still causing issues. Fleet Ops provided composited data sets made by comparing scrying intake from multiple sources, which helped somewhat, but only somewhat. After all, my Flight was on the bleeding edge, by far, the furthest out. The data from Flight Ops provided little that our Gorgons hadn't already revealed.

    "BlackSkyvian forces, this is Pukovnik Emilia Armin, thank you for the offer," an elegant voice said over the open channel. The Pukovnik spoke Silvan Latin with just enough of a cloying accent that I wondered if it was an affectation. Pukovnik was a rather high rank for squadron command in the Elena military, roughly equivalent to a Tribune, but then again a Recon Squadron was a very high-value asset.

    "We're happy to help. No RP Pilot wants to go down in the middle of the sea," I replied, thinking back to fighting Trosic Pilots over the southern Gaudia Sea. "Salt or Freshwater," I appended frowning over the display map. There were echoes and scrying artifacts, nothing that even raised to the status of a blip or ghost contact but I was not above jumping at shadows. Incautious pilots did not last long.

    "Ah, BlackSkyvian hospitality," the Pukovnik chuckled. I suspected she was in one of the Marzanna air-superiority suits running escort on the Mokosh. Those Recon models were still saturating the sky with active scrying pulses but there definitely was something odd about it, more than just that their pulses were more towards the south than in our direction. It was like they were making shadows where our own passive intake was weaker.

    The relative clarity of the Recon Squadron gave me unease. VioletBlood, for all her faults, was right, about Elenese tactics. And we could see the Recon Squadron with painful clarity down to the markings on the smoothed faceplates House Elena preferred in contrast with the more sculpted death mask BlackSkyvian style.

    In contrast with the clean lines of our Occultia Recon suit, the Mokosh was all external scrying arrays set with crystalline solid-state receivers and thick tracery of thermal management enchantments. Compared to that, the Marzanna air superiority suit was a smoothed and sleek armor built for maneuverability and speed. Marring the clean lines were the spots where plates had been replaced to allow for extra warding projectors and power systems, showing that these were Generation Two refit models.

    "Elenese Formation, are you having mechanical or navigational difficulty?" I demanded, my mouth dry. Our distance was rapidly closing and soon force would be more than a theoretical option. Glancing, I confirmed that my Ballista projectors were ready.

    "Your offer for assistance is very generous, as our navigation system failed," Pukovnik Armin stated in a smooth purr. It was an obvious lie, every RP suit had multiple navigation systems: compasses, gyroscopes, star charting, and more. For a dozen suits to have all their systems fail was next to impossible, unless it was some kind of sabotage.

    Not to mention they were unable to call for assistance? Clearly the Pukovnik had a form of functioning comms. One of the purposes of the open channel was to call for such assistance. However, it was an expedient lie. And there was time. The Fleet was sending in corvettes and other support, but Ritual Plate was the second fastest asset they had, and airships were far slower than that.

    "While I'm happy they're finally talking, I am out of trust. Get ready for an active pulse on my signal.," I privately ordered my Flight before going back to the open channel.

    "I am sorry to hear that such a misfortune befell you. Thankfully you did not accidentally stray into our territory," I enunciated, using those elocution lessons from the Mima Lumina academy to sound courtly, or at least non-confrontational. My fingers flexed. VioletBlood's paranoia was far from baseless; Elena had a habit of flashing conciliatory smiles, right up until they dropped the mask of civility.

    "We would be happy to take you up on your offer... Countess?" Confusion and a bit of disquiet touched Emilia Armin's voice.

    I could have cursed my relatively unique wings, which when coupled with there only being about a thousand Polyxo Legion Fliers, made me easily identifiable. Instead, I noted that this meant their Recon suits were good enough to detect the minute differences between a Fleet and a Legion Ritual Plate model at our current distance.

    The Pukovnik's comments aside, my focus was on my Flight. "Active... now! Full Dash." We had a moment of distraction. Our suits could not cancel-out the pulses from an equal number of Recon RP, but to go with the extended light metaphor, we were now shining our own lamps into the darkness behind their lights. We also had four Gorgon Rig scrying systems which, while not as powerful, were still very capable systems.

    The display bloomed with markers, most of them were tenuous sensor echoes and partial hits, but that was enough.

    "Multiple squadrons! Volos pattern!" I shouted over the Flight channel and back to Flight Ops. Four rare and expensive Recon suits was one level of commitment, but dozens of their latest low-observable air superiority suits was something else. This was no squadron we were dealing with, this was a Vanguard Strike unit, something analogous to a Demi-Wing.

    "Break, break, break!" I ordered as I led my formation into a steep dive. The three Volos squadrons accelerated, their higher outputs shedding the heavy veils they were lurking under. At least that bit of CSR Intel was confirmed. The Volos' powerful Veiling systems were not able to contain the full output of combat maneuvering. Part of me wondered why they were here. Nearly forty of those suits had to be a significant fraction of Elena's Volos fleet.

    "Duplicitous Elenese! They must have used their accomplices as cover!" VioletBlood cried with more than a bit of jealousy in her outrage.

    "We can congratulate them on a trick well setup later," I replied through gritted teeth as we gained more speed, corkscrewed half a turn and raced off on an obliquely southern heading. We could have snap-maneuvered into a turn, but that would have slowed us down, and the one advantage we had was that it would take the Volos just a bit of time to fully power out of stealth mode and accelerate to combat maneuvering mode.

    "Diamond Actual, this is Kestrel, do you need assistance!" a new dispatcher called in, just a bit of heat on the Fleet officer's words. The HFV Kestrel was a Kolibri Torpedo corvette. A small, relatively quick vessel that still carried over half a dozen Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes which gave it a fair bite.

    I appreciated the offer but the range was far from ideal. "Kestrel, we could use some fire support, but I'm a bit concerned about this spiraling out of control." Beyond the Kestrel there were multiple Household Fleet squadrons incoming. But they would all arrive in time to avenge us.

    "Volos Squadrons are about to cross the border," GreyDawn stated her voice cold and clinical as she confirmed the headings. At least our suits would get good location data for the enemy RP, for a while.

    I swore at the map display. Escape was not yet impossible, not quite yet, but I gave the enemy a three in five chance of killing all of us.

    "Understood. Half of our magazine are Skofnung anti-air Torpedoes," Kestrel offered. "If you can draw them, we can flood the sky with nearly a hundred Vel Missiles."

    The offer was appealing, but the range was still a problem. Oh, we were within the hundred and forty mile range of a Skofnung; the problem was that even a supersonic missile would take a few minutes to cross the distance between us.

    I doubted we had that much time. Map distances flashed over my eyes and I sighed. There... were options. I had drawn out combat with enemies many times before. Rarely ones equipped with such good sensor support, there would be no hiding my location this time.

    "We can hold them, down sell ourselves and let the missiles harrow them and the fleet mop up," VioletBlood suggested, echoing my first option. Haughty but stern, she sounded like so many BlackSkyvian nobles trying to find scraps of glory in the cold calculus of war. "Besides, we've got an Ace who's fought nine-versus-one and won. Have they?" Her question was light, but unlike Narvos this time... this time she would stay at my side.

    "If it comes to that, we'll do our duty," I promised her before changing the comm channel. "Kestrel, do you have any Ascalon Torpedoes?"

    "Uh, yes four," the comms officer seemed befuddled.

    "Outstanding! Fire two of them on the following course with terminal guidance and detonation on my mark."

    "But Diamond Actual, you wanted things to not spiral out of control?" I could not fault the dispatcher. The Ascalon was a ship-killer with over half a ton of special alchemically enhanced explosives. The same speed as the Skofnung it still had the same timing issue.

    "Yes!"

    "Torpedoes are already away," she replied a bit testily. "Uplink should be active in three, two, one..."

    My display updated. "Flight, follow my lead."

    "What's the plan?" Visha asked.

    Beneath my faceplate, I pulled back my lips. "I'm going to be diplomatic."

    End Chapter 18


    Just a training exercise...

    Don't worry ch19 is already written *and* edited! You won't have to wait long for that.

    Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.


    And a couple bits of news, there's a Diyu Demons / Young Justice fic called "Knight Sirens" being written by Ellf that you can find in this thread, that you might enjoy.


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    • Chapter 19: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 2
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    • 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 19: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 2


    High over Lacus Superum on our northern border with House Elena, my Flight had been sent to investigate an Elenese Recon Squadron watching our training exercise. It turned out they were in fact a Vanguard Strike unit of four Squadrons, including nearly forty of their latest Volos air-superiority suits.

    We were hilariously outnumbered. From Norden to Narvos to a dozen of other grubby hellholes, my troops and I had struggled against the odds. This time, it was twelve to one. I had beaten something... close to that before, but War Mistress Rodswor had been overconfident, had toyed with me, and had allowed me to defeat her forces in detail.

    I saw no such faults with Pukovnik Armin. Her Pilots' equipment was roughly comparable to ours, Elena's training was thoroughly acceptable, and they had the additional advantage of a quartet of advanced Recon suits. We had only talked briefly, but she seemed sensible enough, a far cry from the ranting War Mistress. I was counting on that.

    Backup was en route, icons from the medium carrier Hornet's escorts and RP squadrons were tantalizingly close on my map display, but moving with aching slowness. Except for a pair of Ascalon Torpedoes racing across the sky; those icons were quite fast.

    Our heading was not directly towards the Volos Squadrons. They had come in using a textbook formation where each Squadron was supported by the other. Two were spread out in staggered chevrons side by side with the third higher and in between.

    Even at cruise speed, they had impressive enough Veiling systems. At least House Elena was getting something out of the money they'd sunk into the project. However, with my Flight using Gorgon Rigs on active, we were more than able to keep our eyes on them, or close enough that it made little practical difference.

    I started to bend the course of my Flight, feigning an attempt to evade and slip past the Volos Squadrons and get to the Recon Squadron. The Elenese reacted just as I was expecting, moving to protect those four exceedingly valuable Recon suits. It amused me a bit because three dozen stealth suits were far more expensive than four Mokoshs.

    But I could respect wanting to protect your not-as-frontline comrades. That respect did not preclude me from taking advantage of their impulse, or their training to draw out more time. Anything for just that much more time.

    "What is the plan, Ma'am?" GreyDawn asked.

    "We're going to talk," I replied. It was a plan that had almost worked before. But now I had an idea what fears were driving the Elenese commander

    My Flight took a moment to process that.

    "With a pair of Torpedoes at our back?" GreyDawn clarified while VioletBlood made a gleeful noise.

    I glanced at the Display. "Oh, they're no longer at our back."

    Like all supersonic Fujiwara Torpedoes, the Ascalon cruised at a bit below Mach three. However, for the terminal phase it sprinted up to three and half times the speed of sound.

    Taking a sip of water, I made one request to the Fleet before switching to the open channel. " Pukovnik Armin. Pukovnik Armin. Are you still lost? Do you need navigational assistance."

    There was a beat as I watched the pair of Ascalons race past my Flight. The Volos Squadrons knew they were coming and had started to break into sub formations. Which was why BlackSkyvian doctrine was to fire Torpedoes carrying clusters of anti-air missiles.

    The enemy squadrons also knew this and figured they had a bit more range. Which was why I blew the Torpedoes early. A pair of miniature suns flared in the sky as enough high energy ordnance to blow through two capital ships detonated.

    The Volos squadrons were already breaking and maneuvering as if they were about to be plagued by Vel Missiles. And while forty missiles for thirty-six Pilots was not great, for an elite unit equipped with the best Elena had to offer, they had to think their chances were good. Instead, their wards flared and flashed as the shockwaves buffeted both of them.

    "They didn't expect that!" VioletBlood's glee was infectious as the three enemy squadrons took a moment to recover and get back into good order.

    "Countess, what game are you playing?" Pukovnik Emilia Armin demanded over the open channel.

    "Look, we could all fight, and waste a lot of money, lives, and equipment. You've got the numbers to run my Flight down and kill us. But it will cost you. How many of your latest Ritual Plate are you willing to sacrifice? What about your commanding Brigadir? Is House Elena willing to gut their Volos Pilot corps tonight? And for what? Observations on a cadets' training exercise?"

    And on my signal another pair of Torpedoes launched from the Kestrel.

    "What are you afraid of?" I pressed. "That this isn't a training mission. That someone with my reputation couldn't possibly be babysitting a bunch of cadets. There's just a medium carrier group behind me. The Hornet is barely enough for a raid, but... she is enough to take out your Vanguard Strike unit," I kept my tone even. From what I recalled, there were no significant forces from the First Home Fleet on maneuvers at this latitude tonight. If I were wrong and a Fleet Carrier or two or, DarkStar forbid, a Heavy Air Trinity were up north near the border with Elena then my words would be far from calming.

    Despite the risk. I put as much magnanimity in my voice as I could. "Or... you can leave with your shiny suits. And the intel you gathered tonight. In time, you can figure out what the cadets were fighting against based on how they were moving."

    Nearly forty Volos air-superiority suits had reoriented themselves and had resumed their closing course, but this time spread out on far wider frontage. It made them more likely to survive a Torpedo strike but more susceptible to being defeated in detail by opposing Ritual Plate.

    There was a low chuckle from the Elenese commander. "This isn't the first time you've used yourself as bait, Countess."

    "Far from it, Emilia. The question is: will you step into the trap? Are you no better than the wildcat Ziox or the cavalier Trosier?"

    "Yes, yes, next you'll point out that even our dissolute allies in Luxon realized the wisdom of not fighting you." Pukovnik Armin sighed. "I speak unveiled on the honor of Elena; you have my bond if I have your oath."

    "You exaggerate and flatter me, Emilia," I said as if this were a ball and we were exchanging calling cards. "But yes, Pukovnik, you have my word in the Imperatrix's name and on DarkStar's blood, that if your forces leave in good order we will not fire upon you."

    "My, the broadsheets and newsreels didn't stray too far from the truth with you, did they?" Emilia laughed. She then switched to Thokavian which Visha translated for our Flight. "All forces do not engage. Repeat, do not engage. Change bearing and take the least time route to cross the joint transit corridor. We are done here."

    There was a pause, no doubt them checking that confirmation on a secured comm channel, but then the enemy forces did a quick turn that for a brief moment left them exposed to a counter-strike.

    Instead, I remote-detonated the two inbound Torpedoes. They were still far enough away to cause no harm to our... guests.

    Watching the squadrons retreat, a shiver went through me, but I ordered my Flight to follow a respectful distance behind. Our cruising was sedate, our heading was steady and predictable, and our scrying remained on active.

    "Flight Ops this is Diamond Actual," I stated after drinking a bit of heated broth. "Elenese Recon Squadron has been investigated. Further Elena assets, Volos model RP, were discovered totaling Demi-Wing strength. We are escorting them back out of contested airspace."

    "Uh. Confirm Diamond Flight," the dispatcher said. "One moment."

    "Standby."

    "Ma'am, you are aware you were using the open channel to talk to your new friend, Emilia?" GreyDawn inquired over the Flight channel.

    "How else would we communicate? We didn't set up a private broadcast channel." I replied. While there were established procedures outlining limited comms sharing with allies, House Elena was far from an our ally, and sharing a direct comm link would have violated protocol.

    "What she means is that everyone could listen in. All the Pilots on both sides, the Fleet units, even our cadets and any civilians monitoring that channel," Visha explained.

    My tail stilled as we flew. "Ah, an excellent point."

    "It was a great feat of domination, Countess!" VioletBlood cheered. "You showed everyone who was in charge."

    I was, briefly, thankful when Flight Ops interrupted. "Diamond Actual, I have Hornet Actual."

    And then my heart sank.

    "Praefectus Commodore Lady Eliza Bellus HoofBridge, a pleasure," I greeted the carrier's commander formally. I tensed. It looked like she was not even going to wait until I got back to her ship to chew me out.

    "Primus Centurion Countess DiamondDust, I am sorry," Praefectus HoofBridge said with a mix of regret and surprised satisfaction.

    "You're... what?" I blurted out, many lessons on deportment and how to communicate with superiors tumbling out of my mind in shock.

    "Oh, it's not a formal Apology. Though knowing your mother... if things had gone..." She laughed as if sending four Pilots out to potential doom was just a part of the job. Which, indeed, it was. "Regardless, I am sorry that you did not get to wet your claws. I commend you on your restraint."

    "Ah. It was a bit trying at moments." That was the truth. I took in the map. The training exercise was long done, but the Fleet assets, both airships Ritual Plate, and many cadets had been moving to the north. No wonder Pukovnik Armin decided to take her forces back to the Elenese side of the great lake.

    "I know it must have galled you to just let them go like that, but we both know those Recon suits likely already transmitted whatever intel they had gathered from the exercise. And while you might not have been able to give those Volos suits a bloody nose, your own Gorgon Rigs have been giving us good telemetry and more on them."

    "I... I suppose we'll have to be satisfied with that," I allowed. "I do wonder just why they had a full Vanguard Strike unit out here."

    "Maybe they were testing our scrying systems to see when we'd spot their new Volos suits?"

    "That is a possibility, Ma'am. They set up that Recon Squadron. They'll learn a bit more about our training, but the real lesson was seeing when we would respond and if we would notice a few squadrons of their new stealth fighter suits lying doggo."

    "Perhaps, Countess. They could also have been going off on some other mission and were close enough to backup that Recon Squad. That's a question for Fleet Intel, or CSR if they find that level of skullduggery worth it."

    "I'd be happy to help," I replied with forced gusto. The Household Fleet Intelligence service was not so bad, if a bit stuffier than the Imperial Legion's equivalent. Both focused on military intelligence and had counter-intel branches to secure facilities and guard against subornation and infiltration. All logical stuff with focused remits. It was the Office of Cultural Reconnaissance, and their far broader charter, that worried me.

    "Good, I've sent my Second Squadron out to relieve you, though some of Kestrel's girls may beat them to the punch. After that, I request you get back on my ship and take the rest of the night off. I don't want you getting back out into the sky and trying to find your new Elenese friend."

    I gave a laugh that wheezed with all the build up stress escaping. Of course HoofBridge thought I was just as bloody-minded as she was. "We can do that, Hornet Actual."

    ++++++++++

    Early autumn was a lovely time in the City of Trees. The air was starting to grow cooler and the leaves were turning but had yet to fall. A festive air hung over the city as the various faiths present in Silvana prepared for the major holidays concentrated in the next few months. Some of the celebrations were cloyingly commercialized or overly sanctimonious and generally tedious, but the overall melange was charming enough.

    I suppose my mood was elevated by recent events. The whole incident north of the Adria Testing Range had terminated in debriefings, including a detailed review of my Flight's scrying intake. The clouds of hyped reputation and endless meetings even had a silver lining, as I got to present our findings on the Volos Ritual Plate to one of our Aggressor Squadrons. They were the dissimilar training instructors who provided simulations of enemy pilots for Pilot training.

    That my Flight had some very nice telemetry on the capabilities of those suits was a ribbon in my hair, to say the least. That it both helped the security of my House and advanced my career was a happy coincidence. Then came the debriefing of my noble cadets. They had fared well, and only took a bit of justifiable pride in winning the bet over Wencesla's Fleet cadets.

    They still had a few rough edges, but there was only so much a few months of training and a handful of live fire exercises could drill into them.

    The real improvement to my mood was due to my mother Clementia coming by for a visit. She had not been able to come by in time for the Feast of DarkStar, but she was here now. Seeing her again almost made up for how I was dressed and how we had spent the day. I wrinkled my nose. Almost.

    "You know you don't have to wear the half-veil," Mother Clementia said with a light smile as we sat down in the cafe. It was not my usual place. We had just left the annex to the Upper-Silvan DarkStar Cathedral of Our Hallowed Lady. I was not too familiar with this part of the city, as I normally preformed my obeisance at the family shrine in my Duchess's manor.

    But I had been around the Cathedral long enough to know where the better local coffee and pastries could be found. This particular cafe, and the adjacent pub, looked like they had been built out of a corner of a set of row houses. The apartments had been gutted, with the upper half now converted into a large multi-floor atrium that served as a plant nursery and the lower half left for the aforementioned businesses, as well as the and sale and storage of various botanical supplies. It all meant this cafe was still filled with the delicate scents of fresh flowers and rich soil even now, when fall was upon us.

    Just below us and down a switchback, a large hotel loomed, all brass accents and bas relief carvings. The banners of minor Houses Crocelli and Vualia fluttered from the entrance and from the heavy presence of hotel detectives and even Imperial Legionaries I supposed the building was hosting some sort of diplomatic summit. It was certainly busy enough, with knots of people out on the hotel's own cafe patio engaged in quiet conversations. I watched them for a moment and shook my head.

    "I didn't have to wear the veil during the ceremonies?" I asked, focusing on my mother.

    Laughing, she tucked back an errant lock of hair. The rest of her purple hair was hidden behind the long shiny black headdress that fell from the bandeau tightly encircling her brow. A silver four-pointed star adorned the front of the guimpe that draped down from her neck and coif. The rest of her habit consisted of her tall boots, long gloves and a dress below a bodice laced with pale red ribbons

    "You know the symbolism." She looked every part a sister of the Order of Our Hallowed Lady. And I looked just as much like a novitiate sister.

    Most of the time, it was easy to forget, or at least push aside, the fact that I had taken the simple vows and obligations to the Church of DarkStar. As a novitiate there were no vows of poverty or chastity and it did not interfere with my Legionary career or the noble games from my other mother Duchess SilverFlight.

    "Novitiates are to be seen and not heard," I stated. My status as a nun, even a glorified trainee, was hard to ignore when I was wearing my own headdress. Going down to my shoulders, it was far shorter than Mother Clementia's and thus only covered most of my hair; long curled bangs managed to escape.

    The ethereal white dress was plain enough, with only some ruffles, a ribbon tie and large black cuffs. Honestly, after having to endure gowns, the dress was more than acceptable, even if it was covered by stars and other DarkStar iconography. The half-veil over my nose and mouth however...

    "And I do appreciate you spending time with me," my mother took my hand. "And bearing with our Order."

    "Our?"

    Clementia smiled. "Dear, you didn't just take the vows to please me. And it's not pressure from the Church, they're more than satisfied with your performance as a relic-bearer. You're dressed this way because of your faith."

    I stopped fussing with my half-veil. "Well..." Could I have just not done this? Does this mean I could stop?

    My mother squeezed my hand. "What worries you, daughter?"

    I did not want to trouble her with my questions of faith. There had been more rumors of DarkStar's return, but those were seemingly evergreen. I had my doubts as to what DarkStar was actually like when she was alive, but I still tried to live my life... well I had always lived to the role set out by society.

    "I have Advanced Evasion School next week. Reinhild has been helping me train, but it is intense," I stated.

    "Is that it?" Mother asked before pulling back so the somewhat awed and diffident waitress could take our orders.

    Which I suppose was fair, given how we were dressed. I was also wearing the ruby-tear-drop ornament of the Preserver Order around my neck.

    "She probably doesn't recognize you," Mother assured as the waitress left.

    "One upside of having my hair stuffed under this thing," I noted.

    "There is a degree of anonymity, but your wings are special even if they don't know who you are," Mother Clementia said.

    Fluffing my wings, I laughed ruefully. "Indeed. These things are special enough for an Elenese commander to guess my identity after a mere glimpse of them."

    My mother gave a small smile.

    "How are things going in the orphanage?" I asked. "I'd like to come and visit for the winter holidays, or maybe the Feast of DarkStar if I'm on leave..."

    "The girls are doing well; the Tavosh twins were adopted."

    "Oh? The pale girls with short blonde hair and black wings? They did ballet."

    My mother nodded. "After learning about you. A nice couple running a tractor and golem repair ship has taken them in. They live over by the barony your VioletBlood runs."

    I smiled. "That's good." Maintaining farm equipment was vital work, and in high demand if you were skilled at it.

    "Your assistance has been very helpful." Her tail swishing, Clementia took my hand again. "And they'll be delighted to see you."

    It was hard to not be embarrassed. It seemed I was doomed to be mobbed by broodlings wherever I went.

    "Was it that battle that worried you?"

    "It wasn't a battle; I didn't fire a shot."

    Clementia waggled a finger. "Daughter, you detonated a bunch of big missiles."

    "But no one got hurt!" I did not whine.

    "If it's not you risking your life that bothered you...." Clementia observed.

    "It bothers you?"

    She gave an indulgent little smile that reminded me of when I was very young. "Of course. I worry whenever you deploy and whenever you train." Mother squeezed my hand. "But I'm proud of how you've grown."

    I looked down and tried to keep my emotions in check. She was not just being literal. I was still short for my age but I was getting taller and was feeling my fourteen years.

    "Tauria, you're not the warmonger the propaganda has made you out to be. I understand that you feel the need to wear a mask, to be a leader for of your girls."

    I fidgeted, not sure what to do. I wanted to pull my hand away. I wanted to run off, to fly off. I wanted to climb into her lap and cry. I decided to be stoic. "That's... I'm..."

    Her voice was very soft. "I did raise you dear; you're no jingoist. Just consider your Baroness. She's a fine woman but you're not like her. I suppose that's why you also have Miss Shadow, their temperaments are complimentary."

    "They are good... companions." I did not like being at a loss for words

    Mother Clementia gave me an indulgent look. "They're more than just companions dear."

    "No, mother." Intellectually, I had no objections. Years ago LoveBlood had made the case of how an arranged marriage between us would be logical, and given our personalities and interests, would in all likelihood be less than unpleasant. After some initial friction between my Vs, more on VioletBlood's part, Visha had endorsed that plan, after making a place for herself in such a future. Privately, I still felt found some measure of disquiet at the idea of my... social, and not so social, affections being plotted out before me.

    But I did not feel strongly enough to object to the whole thing. Maybe if I was being pushed, but Visha took care to rein in LoveBlood whenever she got overly enthusiastic; only occasionally did Victorious have to be literal in that duty.

    Thankfully, the waitress had returned bearing out lunches, and I could focus on something else. I was happy to have a reason to undo my veil and pin it to the side.

    Mother Clementia had gotten a savory broth, a bowl of some hard cheese, dried fruit and a bit of dried sausage, and a glass of sweet red wine. She did give a small frown at my plate of pastries and coffee.

    Her chair creaked as she moved over to sit next to me and hasted the waitress to bring out more broth and another bowl so she could share her "salad".

    "Mother, I'm fine."

    "I won't have you starving yourself," she said, making sure the second order of broth was before me.

    I managed to hold back any pouting as I did picked up the spoon, tail limp.

    Giving a satisfied nod, she began eating. "How are your studies going?"

    At least the broth was good. "I'm doing well. The classes are interesting."

    "Are you making new friends?"

    "Mother, I'm a Primus Centurion," I said sternly, without whining. "I'm training Cadets and will soon have squadron command..."I trailed off.

    "Dear?"

    "It's nothing."

    My mother looked down at me.

    "Magnus Quirinus, my squadron leader before I went here for the War College?"

    "Yes, she seemed like a lovely and competent woman when I met her at your twelve birthday party."

    "She just got her promotion to Tribune," I admitted.

    "Did you send her a congratulatory letter?"

    "Of course," I snorted. "And she'll soon be commanding a Demi-Wing."

    Mother Clementia sipped some of her broth then ate some cheese. "And you'll be promoted to Prefect Centurion after your studies here," she noted.

    "If things go to plan, in charge of one of Tribune Quirinus's four squadrons," I noted and went back to eating.

    "You don't sound too happy."

    "I'm just preoccupied with how I'll have to fill out a squadron. That'll be eight more Pilots. I'll also need three Primus Centurions, though I have ideas on two of those slots." I sipped some coffee. "Not to mention training them to be proficient with Polyxo RP, having them up to work as a team and then integrating them all with Quirinus's other Squadrons."

    "Oh, is that all that weighs your mind?" She put her arm around me and pulled me into a hug.

    As I leaned onto her, I might have started to purr.

    "I don't want to burden you with my fears," Mother Clementia said as she squeezed me a bit tighter.

    "It's... it's not a burden," I replied, my tail swishing. "I shouldn't have signed up so young."

    Clementia gave a little laugh. "I would lie if I said your age was not a part of my fears but I'll still worry even when you're fully grown with broodlings of your own."

    "Um, but..." My heart sped up. "That's a long way off."

    "Yes, I know even when you're old enough, there's regulations about pregnancy when on active duty. I'm in no rush for grandkids, daughter." There was a tiny bit of gratitude tinged with wistfulness in her voice. Given my mother's vows, I doubted she expected to ever have a daughter, let alone granddaughters.

    "There's time..." Sighing, I relaxed into the hug. "I've got time. Tribune Quirinus has her own training, and I have to finish the current set of courses at the War College." It was not enough for a degree, but I could resume my studies and distance learning was always an option. "Not to mention the rest of my Flight and our Ritualista have their own lessons."

    "And your lessons at Mima Lumina," Mother Clementia added with a tease.

    My tail stilled. "Yes, Mother. Duchess SilverFlight was very... generous in arranging VioletBlood and myself to receive such tutoring."

    My mother resumed eating. "Is it that bad to go to a school with girls your own age? Mima Lumina is a very prestigious school."

    I tried not to glare. "It's not a full course load, just some private instruction." The idea of spending forty to fifty hours a week in some sort of prissy school for nobles set my teeth on edge. It was more than just a waste of time; the limited amount of interaction was bad enough. At least with my cadets I always had the option to flog them.

    "Ah, something like finishing school? I suppose you... is the term 'sword nobles'? I suppose you do need some polishing to get along in high society." Mother Clementia's tone was playfully teasing.

    I did not growl, at least certainly not at her.

    "Is it that bad? I knew you grit your fangs at the various deportment and attitude lessons when you were a broodling, but you still volunteered to take extra classes."

    Exhaling, I calmed myself; that was easier in Mother's presence. "I agree with the utility of the classes, and I am learning from them, but I still have my private complaints that I have to take such classes."

    Clementia laughed. "Ah, the Legionary's right to complain?"

    "Something like that," I admitted before having more broth.

    I felt my mother's curiosity as we both ate. After a couple minutes I decided to explain myself.

    "It's the sinking realization that learning how to navigate the social minefields that come from dealing with spoiled teenage girls may very well aide me when dealing with noble intrigue or Legion and Fleet officers."

    "I can only speak for the social dynamics of the ecclesiastical world, but you're not wrong."

    I frowned. "Sometimes I feel like everyone is a crazy demon, or at least immature, and that everyone is really my age, they just look like adults. That I'm older than I... look." Wincing at my near slipup, I thought of Lady HoofBridge and her views on throwing my Flight at our largest rival as a bit of sabre-rattling.

    "I'll confess, daughter, most adults are faking it."

    I sighed. "That conclusion has become inescapable."

    "You have always been a very sensible and sober young girl," my Mother agreed. She left unstated that that was part of why I was never adopted when I was at the orphanage. Sometimes I wondered what my life would be like if I was adopted by more... conventional parents. If I had been raised by women of more normal jobs and status. I presume I would have been happy in some small town, maybe I'd work as a scrivener or some sort of clerk, but I still would have had my affinity for Zephyr.

    And I would have come under pressure to sign up, to do my part. I have been in a situation similar to Visha. I continued to ponder as I ate. Unless I once again found patronage, I would not have been in a cadet program, so I would have signed onto BlackSkyvian service earlier, and I would have had far less time to train.

    I could feel my mother's amusement. She rarely pestered me when I was pondering and was happy to enjoy companionable silence. It was a shame I had to wear this headdress, part of me wanted her to brush my hair. But she had a meal to eat too.

    The meal ended and I felt some regret, in part because I had to put my half-veil back on but mostly because I had to say goodbye to mother Clementia for the rest of the day.

    "We will be having dinner," she promised, giving me a hug after I paid for the lunch.

    I nodded.

    "You can tag along if you want. It's rather dry fiscal allocations of tithes and endowments, but," she gestured to how I was dressed, "you are qualified to sit in."

    My tail flicked. It was a tempting offer. Over the last two years I had learned more about how charitable donations worked under Silvan law and the tax codes that the nobility operated under. Due to our privileged status, our fiscal records were far less private than those of commoners. I could see the arguments in favor of this arrangement. Our tax code was simple in a way that warmed my heart, but it could be circumvented. I could also see it as a means for the Imperatrix to keep a check on powerful factions while also being aware of their resources and assets.

    "Thank you for the offer." I bowed my horns. "Normally, I would accept but I have an appointment this afternoon with my Logistics instructor on a project that she thinks can be presented for formal review."

    She returned the bow, then with a smile pulled me into another hug. "I'll take notes and we can go over them at dinner."

    I smiled and with some reluctance we separated. She went on her way to the cathedral and I started walking down. There was a funicular station opposite that grand hotel.

    ++++++++++

    I strode down the stone stairs with purpose, only somewhat self-conscious about how I was dressed. Normally, I wore my Legion uniform when out in the city, so it was interesting to see the contrast in how I was treated.

    Admittedly, in both cases I was given a respectful diffidence. However, a novitiate Sister of the Order of our Hallowed Lady was given more of the respect of the institution. Whereas, on the other wing, the awards, specialization, and rank of my Legionary uniform, or the hair pins I could wear when out of uniform, had people more agog at my personal achievements. Even moreso when they realized how young I was to be wearing those badges of rank and accomplishment.

    A young teenage novitiate Sister was normal. A decorated teenage Volantes Ace and Flight Leader was something else.

    I waited for the traffic to thin at the crosswalk. The funicular station was just across the street next to the small glen of a park. Before I could cross, a panicked bellhop ran up to me, her wings akimbo and her tail flailing.

    With honey-blonde hair that was pinned up in her pillbox cap, she was dressed as if she were some grand army marshal with more gold braid than a Luxon dress uniform and more frogging than a Trosic admiral. The green uniform managed to be ostentatious and servile.

    "Can I help you?"

    "I'm so sorry, Sister," the bellhop bowed her head, gasping. Held in her hands was a silver-edged calling card. She paused to gather herself and inhaled. "Are you Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust?" she asked in the tumbling rush of someone who only recently was told something she had to memorize.

    "I am. What's this about?'

    "I'm sorry!" she repeated with another bow. "The Diyu Continental has been honored to host embassies from both Houses Crocelli and House Vualia while they discuss matters of import."

    I glanced at the hotel's grandiose frontage, all that heroic statuary made mundane by their placement overlooking a loading and unloading zone full of various vehicles. "Yes, I noticed the banners."

    While not exactly neighbors, both minor Houses were south of House BlackSky across the Gaudia Sea: Crocelli on the western side of Diyu, Vualia across from the eastern end of the continent.

    More than the fluttering banners hanging in front of the lobby, there were plenty of people sitting and talking in the little groups, as I had noticed earlier. Not to mention the abundance of security personnel from all three Houses in attendance, plus the private forces of the Continental. One woman with orange hair and sober business-wear caught my eye. She was with a cluster of people out having a smoke.

    "One of the attendees begs the indulgence of a moment of your time," the bellhop held out the card by the far corners to make sure we did not inadvertently touch when I took it.

    I opened the card and it took effort to not set it aflame, let alone to not shred it with my claws. "Ah..." I read it again and looked up at the banners. They were still just the emerald green over black of House Crocelli and the seafoam and sapphire of House Vualia.

    I did not see the banner for House Ziox: a chevron of silver wings over a wheat-gold disk on a red and blue background. I did not want to create a scene; I was already attracting some attention.

    My tail straightened. "Please give Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor my regards, but alas I will not be able to meet with her today." I had no interest in meeting the sister of the War Mistress who had tried to abduct and brainwash me.

    "Are you sure about that, Countess?" an orange-haired woman in a sober black jacket, bodice, and grey skirt asked, suddenly at my side. She had magenta skin, neat bangs and a ponytail. Behind her gold-framed glasses her eyes twinkled. At least the librarian had done the courtesy of not actively puffing on her slim cigar as she approached.

    "Librarian Evadne," I bowed my horns and then waved the calling card. "Are you sure about this?"

    Her tail curling, the bellhop looked between us. "If there's nothing else?" She wanted out of this situation - quite the sensible girl.

    "Oh yes, the Countess will deal with the matter personally," Evadne assured.

    The hotel staffer took her chance and scurried back to the protection of the hotel.

    "I do hope you'll do me this favor," the Librarian brightly said.

    I frowned at her. "Unless my memory of Ortov is faulty, wouldn't the favor go the other way?"

    Her smile grew. "Don't you want more favors from the Librarius?"

    I stared.

    "Ah, wise for one so young." She studied her cigar and pouted; the end had gone out. "I can't force you to talk with Samoth."

    "Why is she even here? How did she get into the country?"

    "House Vualia has hired her as a consultant to evaluate their Ritual Plate Corps. She's part of their delegation at this summit as a military attaché. And as long as she stays on the grounds and comports herself, Kapten Rodswor is entitled to the protections of being part of the Vualian embassy." Evadne shrugged.

    "Oh, House Crocelli must love that." My wings twitched as I pinched the bridge of my nose. The woman who trained Diluvian separatist Pilots would be sitting across the negotiating table from House Crocelli.

    "Yes, I dare say bringing her was a way to thumb their nose at them," Evadne agreed.

    "Haven't she and her mercenary band fought Crocelli's forces directly?" I added. "They've certainly fought ours."

    "Yes, Queen Vualia isn't dueling with blunted swords in these negotiations. She's needling both Crocelli and us as the hosting House. There is some elegance as Rodswor does have an expertise and with her status as a sell-sword her actions cannot be, officially, blamed on Ziox." Evadne shrugged elegantly. "As far as we know, she has not done anything aggressive at all while in service to Vualia."

    "And you want to bring me into a spat between Minor Houses separated by the Gaudia Sea?" I asked, looking for some way to get out of this diplomatic intrigue.

    Laughing, Evadne snapped her fingers and relit her cigar. "Oh no, I don't want you to talk to the younger Rodswor to smooth over some mere trade deal. I want you to figure out why Samoth wants to talk to you."

    Frowning, I glanced at the hotel. I did not want to get further into this mess. The Rodswor family had been a problem for me for years. "This is a diplomatic event."

    "And you're being invited." The librarian looked me over. "And I suppose your garment helps make you look pious and non-threatening, Sister."

    I glared.

    "Do you have a sidearm under that dress?"

    Confusion grew as I blinked up at her. I did have a few firearms, mostly what I had to purchase as a BlackSkyvian Imperial Legionary. Despite being a Legion Flier we were expected to be proficient in small arms. My Duchess also had a fair number of hunting pieces not to mention the equipment of her non Ritual Plate mercenaries. There was also my maid Reinhild's collection.

    I rarely carried a sidearm, and the last time I had to use my Mark 36 battle rifle was a particularly bad night in FOB EmeraldInferno almost a year ago when Diluvian raiders almost snuck through the wire and into the Forward Base.

    "Do you want one?" she lightly asked in that amused inquisitiveness that seemed a hallmark of her profession.

    "What about security?"

    "What about it?" she happily retorted, tail swishing.

    "Personally, I'd rather have time to change."

    "You look good." The Librarian smiled. "I would appreciate your help in this, but if you have an appointment, please, don't let me detain you."

    I look at the sparkling eyes behind those slim glasses. My tail went limp as I sighed. "Fine, I'll do my part."

    Grinning, Evadne clapped her hands, turned on her heel, and started walking back to the hotel. I trudged after her.

    The interior lobby of the hotel was cool and I was breezed past various guards, security, and overly ornamented servants. Somewhere in the process I lost the Librarian and found myself alone by the reception desk holding the silver-edged card.

    There was a gentle gust and the air got a bit more comfortable. Before I could call to the receptionist, the nervous honey-blonde bellhop intercepted me. "Countess? If you'll follow me."

    Going through a few more layers of security surrounding the chatting diplomats, I was thankful that I wore the Preserver Order award. A couple checkpoints actually asked to verify my identification and my invitation. It was reassuring that someone could not just dress up like a trainee nun and sneak in. The bellhop led back out to a rear portico.

    There were a few people sitting at the tables. More than a few eyes fell upon me, but my attention was at the willowy woman sitting at a table shaded by a poplar tree. I had only seen photos of her from CSR and other intelligence briefings, but it was her.

    With confident air, I strode over. She already had a cup on a saucer.

    Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor was a bit duskier than her sister with a light bronze coloration. She had the same hard amber eyes and close-cropped black hair. She looked younger than her late sister, even a bit more youthful than the dossier CSR had on her. Her frosty smile was just slightly warmer than the cold elegance Zaphania had born.

    That is until I surprised, killed, and fed upon the War Mistress.

    "Countess, or do you prefer Primus Centurion? Please, sit. I don't want to offend, I know how precious noble titles and war-like reputations are to you BlackSkyvians," Samoth flashed her fangs. Old hatred, worn comfortable by time and use, radiated from her. The pilot wore a dark purple jacket with matching slacks and a white shirt. A silver feather, a symbol of House Ziox, was on one lapel with a gold quiver full of arrows denoting her command of a mercenary company on the other. Lavender horns curled out of her brow and her wings were folded back as her tail was curled onto her lap.

    I sat and stared at her.

    "Taller than I expected, but it has been two years." She tilted her head and sipped some tea. "I sent you a calling card. No doubt it's already at that up-slope mansion of your mother's. She did reward you handsomely for what you did."

    "The War Mistress attacked me."

    Samoth gave that chill smile. "Yes. I had hoped to maybe talk to you later, but then," she gestured up to the block at a higher elevation where the cathedral and that cafe were, "but then, I saw you. And you were all dressed up for church. Maybe your Lady DarkStar wanted us to meet?"

    "If she did, wouldn't we both be in the skies in our armor and not at a diplomatic summit?" I snapped back.

    She laughed. "Oh, you almost sound like you believe that. Come Countess, do you actually fool people with this lady warrior thing?"

    "Do you? With your righteous vengeance?"

    "Oh Countess, you know that the best lies have a kernel of truth to prop them up." She gave a laugh made all the more disturbing for the genuine mirth. "I know you've been making inquiries, using your Mother's connections, maybe some of your personal networks. Good little nobles who want an honorable duel wouldn't do such things."

    I folded my hands on the table. "What is it that you want?"

    She sipped her tea. "It's not enough that we should meet face to face at least once before we settle this tawdry feud?"

    "The failings of your family have little to do with me. Any other Legion Flier would have caused you the same trouble."

    There was that laugh again. "Oh, if we're playing up to arrogant stereotypes then perhaps I should bring up my ancestors, or maybe I should have worn a headdress too."

    "What do you want?" I repeated.

    "I heard you had a spot of trouble with House Elena recently." The woman squared her teacup on the saucer and pushed it to one side.

    "I wouldn't say that." House Ziox was ambivalent at best towards House Elena. Mostly it was because the smaller great House had enough wars and rivals and could ill afford to have yet another enemy. House Elena's feelings were more complicated as they were staunch allies of House Luxon, one of Ziox's traditional foes.

    "No, you wouldn't," Samoths' tail flicked out of her lap. "Countess, yes for this, it's Countess, I'm a mercenary."

    I gave a small smile. Samoth was only a mercenary because that gave House Ziox plausible deniability.

    "Don't you get haughty to me, your own mother, the Duchess, is a sell-sword," Samoth spat. "That's why I'm even talking with you." She took out a bronze tuning fork. It had the slightly more angular engravings of Zioxan enchantments, but I recognize the device. Especially, after she struck it on the side of the table. The vibrations were prickly to my horns.

    I blinked at the little privacy generator. My Duchess often used such devices... during similar meetings.. "I'm sorry, perhaps you could clarify?"

    Amber eyes smoldered at me as she leaned back. "I know you don't trust me, and have no idea how much it galls me to come to you, of all people on Diyu." She flexed her hands and the air at her back became blustery. "But.... I am a businesswoman, thanks to you, Countess. And I have something to sell, something your mother, or maybe some of your less savory friends may be very interested in."

    I squared my shoulders. So this was Great House politics. "What do you have in mind, Kapten Rodswor?"

    End Chapter 19

    Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

    Sorry about the back to back cliffhangers (and 19 being a bit short), but chapter 20 is well underway and shouldn't take too long to finish. And I got some new art to post.
     
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