The War Chronicles of a Little Demon
Set in the Diyu Demons verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic.
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.
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 33: Recreational Transit
"Transit synchronization delays to Baria have been resolved. Incoming transit will arrive shortly on platform three," a prim voice announced over the concourse speakers in a cool, but even, Lentian accent.
As the words echoed in the cavernous room, I shifted in the uncomfortable waiting chair. Glancing at my mostly untouched tepid coffee, I fiddled with the unread book in my lap. To my right, VioletBlood sipped at a small glass of sherry, while on my left, Visha was busily at work disposing of an entire basket of salted, cheese-covered new potatoes. As always, it was worrying just how quickly the young tubers vanished into the maw she had in place of a stomach. I could blame it on her demonhood, but I knew her as a human.
"Boarding for the thirteen hundred hours, sixteen minutes transit to New Lentia will commence on platform five. The twelve hundred hours,fifty minutes transit from Urik is on schedule and will be arriving shortly," declared the announcer.
There was a distant thud and the rising stench of burnt ozone.
From our seats, we had a rather nice view of the platforms radiating out below us. A single platform, number five, was occupied by a giant bulbous railcar, all rounded edges and truncated corners. Sitting on wide-gauge tracks, the sides of the car had been retracted, the glistening skin peeled away to reveal the innards and compartments below. Stevedores and Load Mistresses scuttled around the flayed beast like a century of ants, carefully inspecting every particular of the car to ensure that the rather worn down first generation Lavin battle tank contained in its bowels was lashed down with appropriate care.
"Can't we just get this over with?" VioletBlood complained, emptying her wineglass with a wince. "It feels like it'd be faster to take an airship back home."
"We'd spend even more time waiting to get onboard, and then longer waiting in the air," I reminded her before returning to my watch over platform five.
Further aft, lifts were hoisting up the last bits of cargo and fitting them between the standardized Ivywood crates which, like the tank, had been loaded aboard hours before. Also climbing aboard the specialized railcar were a line of people, all queued up before the single ramp leading into the passenger compartment ahead.
The tracks went out from the ramp and vanished under a set of armored doors; one of about a dozen that were set in the semi-circular fall wall of the concourse complex.
"I wish I could just fly back myself," VioletBlood grumbled.
"You're too young," Visha absently noted around a mouthful of potato before brightening. "Oh Tauria, you have to try this! The cheese is delicious!"
I eyed the glossy too-yellow substance poured over the potatoes while VioletBlood pouted. Something in that uniformly sunny smear spoke of old chemicals and strange alchemies forgotten by all save the warlocks toiling endlessly in the bowels of some infernal pasteurizer.
"I don't have to be an Elder to know how to teleport," Violet sniffed, trying to regain her dignity.
"But it is far, far rarer," I said distractedly, still trying to figure out how to politely decline the potato and cheese that Visha had offered. The spoonful did smell disquietingly appetizing in a "you will regret this in twenty minutes" fashion, only further evidence of the uncanny arts concealed in its industrial ancestry. Not a brilliant idea, given how Mother had cautioned me about eating before using a Gateway. If a Duchess could get teleportation sickness, surely the rest of us were even more at risk.
"And Ma'ams, young adults who can both pilot an RP and teleport would be quite enticing," Reinhild SunShower said. The kitsune looked all demure and polite; at least she, and the other elements of my staff, were wearing their reserve Auxilia uniforms.
It was an eminently practical look and one which I heartily approved. Not only did their military IDs make it easier for them to get onto the concourse, but their uniforms lent their procession something of a professional air. As if they were in the midst of executing some hideously complex mission requiring careful attendance and repeated checks. As the clear center of this operation, I was saved from the embarrassment of being publically swarmed by a pack of servants in full maid regalia.
Though I will say that the kabob-filled pitas the maids had snapped up were sinfully enticing, with a scent as greasy as was mouth-watering.
"Not to mention snapped up for all sorts of skullduggery and shenanigans, Ma'am," Gibbs dryly added, the last word dangling off her sentence like an afterthought. She and a couple dozen of my Squadron's Ritualista were also waiting in the rows around us.
I shivered at the thought. I had seen the "shenanigans'' that CSR could get up to with normal Legionary Fliers and Fleet Pilots; my traitorous mind was happy to supply me with multiple examples of the kinds of operations they might be running that could make use of Ritual Plate pilots capable of teleporting dozens of miles in the blink of an eye. "Be careful what you wish for, LoveBlood."
Still ignoring both the culinary temptations and "temptations", I ran the numbers, trying to estimate the bounds of the horrifying idea Gibbs had so deftly placed in my head.
If teleportation is, for the sake of argument, a one in a thousand talent among RP pilots then... that would amount to about a Squadron's worth of Legionary Fliers and a reinforced Demi-Wing of Fleet Pilots.
There were rumors of such rarified units, of dread Squadrons held in careful reserve by both of the services. That said, I might have had more truck with such barracks room gossip if the whispers spoke of a single composite RP Wing, which seemed far more plausible so far as secret trump card formations went. That sort of concentration would allow for the deployment of a critical mass of force, all well-accustomed to operating in tandem and commonly equipped for maximal efficacy. Such deployments, adequately planned, could even see fairly regular operational use, though it was difficult to conceive of any such mission requiring more than a single teleportation-capable Squadron or two at a time.
And you'd be familiar with such a thing, wouldn't you? A traitorous voice in the back of my mind whispered. Old memories from a lifetime away came back, if only for a fleeting instant. The circumstances weren't exactly the same. My old 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion couldn't quite teleport, though the rockets the madman Shugel effectively provided us with the next best thing in strategic terms for the era.
An elite core of airborne magical soldiers rushed from battlefield to battlefield in a desperate bid to turn the tide wherever and whenever we were needed.
And we were always needed, I shivered at the thought. The grim sense of dread that came as day after day, victory after victory, the Empire's borders only shrank, and the inevitable seemed to inch ever closer, all while High Command worked us to the bone on futile or frivolous pursuits.
Would that be VioletBlood's fate if she managed to join that rumored Wing of Elites? Wrung dry of all her potential by distant commanders who saw her as nothing more than a tool? Is that our fate in our current formation? Yes, we're on leave now, but what about the next shady CSR operation and the one after that?
I was pulled from my thoughts as the pressure shifted, like the feeling before a storm rolled in. Not even a minute later, the overhead speakers clicked on. "Incoming transit from Baria has arrived and will disembark at platform four. Final boarding for outbound transit to Bairia at platform three," stated the announcer.
One of the sets of heavy doors in the far wall slid open and a squat little shunter locomotive painted in an incongruous lime green trundled in, pulling one of the extra large railcars behind it.
The engine tugged the carriage over a switch and down towards platform four, rolling to a complete stop at the platform. After a shuddering moment, doors opened, ramps were put in place, and people began to swarm out while the stevedores started unloading a tithe of the cargo.
A s the new arrival emptied of passengers and cargo, its sister train-car on the other side of the concrete pier that was platforms three and four closed its doors shut and lurched into motion as another stubby shunting engine started to push it out towards the far doors.
"Boarding for the thirteen hundred hours, twenty-seven minutes transit to Diyu will commence on platform six," the announcer said.
"That's us!" Visha cheerily said, and then blanched when she gazed down into her basket and realized she hadn't finished off the last of her potatoes. Not content to leave her task half-undone, she stooped and set to mopping up the survivors with a ferocity I could only call
worrisome.
Twisting away from the horrible sight of Visha mauling several small potatoes laden with not-cheese all at once, I stood and rolled my shoulders back. Kinks not yet fully worked out, I approached the guardrail lining this level of the concourse. With enough space to not be rude, I stretched out my wings to their full extent, groaning at the blissful release. This position, on the platform's brink, afforded me not only room to stretch but also a view onto the pier directly below us.
Behind a flashbulb went off, doubtless some tourists getting early pictures of their vacation. Though… my horns tingled a bit… Curious, I looked around for the source of the peculiar sensation. When I lowered my gaze to survey the platform on the lower level, though, the sensation and my curiosity about it faded away completely.
Down below, another railcar was arriving at the waiting platform. Some last-minute cargo was already heaped up, ready to be taken aboard the new arrival, along with a small group of "priority" passengers.
Dressed in a black dress with a veil concealing her pinned up blonde hair, Melisande soberly stood with Lucia in her legion blacks, holding her hand. Beside the widow, a matte black casket waited, strapped to a wheeled dolly for easy transport.
There's only one; in a statistical sense, that's a good sign, My clinically detached side noted before a more sinister internal voice spoke up.
Is it though? Diyu-Mursam is the busiest connection in the House; this facility sees thirty transits per day, minimum. How many other trains left the station today with blackened cargo aboard?
Viewing the tableau from above, I felt like some voyeur to their grief, a spectator prying into one of the most intimate and painful moments of another's life. Free from the pain of the participants, aloof from the cumbersome weight of the coffin.
Guiltily, I looked away.
"What are those fat-tailed soft-horned idiots doing?" VioletBlood snarled.
Thankful for the outburst, I turned back to see what had so upset my Baroness. It didn't take long to discover the cause of her agitation; there, past the waiting seats my Squadron had claimed and just now rushing past the collection of concession stands and food stalls, were two Legionary Fliers.
Two Legionary Fliers as familiar as they were unexpectedly out of place.
As the pink-haired senator's daughter and her green-haired wingwoman frantically ran toward us, I sighed. "LoveBlood, I thought your subordinates were taking a transit later this week?" I asked, carefully modulating the acid in my voice
"SkySpear is staying here on Mursam," my Baroness growled as she strode towards the wayward girls, "but yes, those two made their travel plans to me quite clear. Or I
thought they had."
"Visha, can you make sure everyone gets down to the platform," I requested as I set off a pace behind VioletBlood.
Primus Centurion Shadow nodded and started policing up our subordinates, retainers, and various dependents.
"They must have valid tickets for today," I observed, catching up with VioletBlood.
"Yes, otherwise they couldn't have gotten onto the concourse," VioletBlood agreed, and then pointed to her errant pilots across the circular concession area at the center of the upper concourse. "Lady Centurions Lavish RoseTalon and Pulivia VibrantFang! What occasion brings me the pleasure of your company on
this fine day?" she demanded, pitching her voice to cut through the usual noise of the usual bustle without screaming.
The people around the concession area froze, immediately eager not to draw attention to themselves. There were more than enough service members, off-duty or discharged, and associated people in the throng to recognize an incipient dressing down when they saw one.
The pair looked harried, and each carried only a single personal bag. Glancing between the two, I saw Lavish appeared almost wilted, with her wings and tail hanging limp and her usual arrogance conspicuous in its absence. All but hovering nearby, Pulivia seemed almost protective of her.
I held up a forestalling hand to VioletBlood, who gave me a slight nod and, instead of launching into a public dressing down, strode over towards her subordinates: Pulivia, a daughter of a Duchess with considerable holdings in Lentia Province, and Lavish, a daughter of Belum Province's Procurator Senator.
The Curia had over half a dozen different types of senators, but Senator RoseTalon, as the consented proxy of the Belum provincial governor, was of the most important breed. Besides the honors of rank, both Lentia and Belum Provinces bordered Silvana and thus were critical industrial and agricultural assets, boosting both their mothers up the implicit chain of importance as well as the explicit rank table.
Not that I had room to complain about the influence of rank and privilege upon senatorial function; as a duchess, my mother SilverFlight was granted a Domina Senator in her own right.
"Care to explain this?" VioletBlood demanded, more quietly than before but still a long road from
sotto voce.
Confusion briefly clouded Pulivia's nutmeg features before she regained control of herself.
It spoke volumes of my fiancee's command style that such august personages quailed before a mere provincial baroness. The two errant pilots also gave me respectful looks before saluting.
Still, they were Legionary Fliers, and they'd have fought over Harp's World, so they did not entirely wilt under LoveBlood's force of personality.
"Family emergency, Ma'am," Pulivia explained, squaring herself up after we returned their salutes. "As soon as Lavish got the telegraph, I used a couple favors to secure standby seats out of the block you have reserved for today, and even then the timing was... close."
Lavish seemed oddly meek but squeezed her wingwoman's hand in gratitude.
"And what happened?" VioletBlood asked, her posture not quite so hostile as it had been a moment before.
"It was a trolley accident in Belum city, my little sister..." Lavish's expression was painfully
young. like a crying puppy first learning that not everyone was a friend and that people could be cruel.
Not that I was stonily stoic at that revelation. I had, after all, my own
sensitivities when it came to rail-based injuries.
I could feel the pink-haired woman's raw hurt and affronted surprise like a humid cloud against my face. A common issue of our species, so gifted and so individually mighty, was that many demons operated under the delusion that death's embrace was not something they had to worry about, that our kind had grown so mighty as to be functionally immune to the end of all things.
This was a mistaken belief; accidents, violence, starvation, or even fatigue of the spirit claimed our kind every day. Even women who had trod Diyu's earth in the antediluvian First Epoch could die. This realization separated the public at large from the military, and from other subcultures that dwelt close to the precipice. Unlike the average demon, any who had served and had seen the teeth of war knew to their bones that death could come for them just as easily as it came for any of the lesser-framed species who we shared Diyu with.
Perhaps Lavish had hoped that, with her sacrifice, her family would be immune from such a fate, that she had purchased insurance for them with the obol of her soul. That death would follow her over to the out-world colonies and not stay lurking in civilized Bellum Province.
"Leilah's alive." Pulivia squeezed Lavish's hand back. "And we Wheatstone'd back that we're coming."
VioletBlood gave me a look. I could feel that her own anger had evaporated, but she didn't want to undermine my authority or me to undermine hers. "You could have messaged the concourse," she said, firmly but not harshly, "or sent a runner."
I nodded, sending LoveBlood my approval at her stance.
Pulivia blinked, looking hurt. "Ma'am, I did leave a message with the ticket office. Didn't they tell you?"
VioletBlood rubbed her forehead and began to mutter about shiftless railway ticket-punchers.
"I can get some refreshments? For us all to have something before the transit?" Pulivia offered.
"Are you sure your stomach is up for it? " I asked.
"Maybe some light pitas or other wraps?" the green-haired but not-so-greenhorn pilot offered.
"Tempting," VioletBlood conceded with a put-upon sigh. "And I do need to yell at some transit ticket-girls."
"We can deal with that later, we need to get to the platform," I turned to Lavish. "And you need to get back home to your sister."
"Leilah has her own job, she can go to the haberdashery and back home by herself." Lavish muttered, looking down. "Maybe she shouldn't have."
I was unsure how, or even if, I should respond to that.
"Come, let's get to the platform," VioletBlood said as she and Pulivia helped guide Lavish towards the ticket booth that gated the stairwell down to our platform.
Seeing that Visha had wrangled the rest of our party, I motioned for us to reunite. I did not know much about Leilah; Lavish was a prideful and prickly being, but she seemed to have a soft spot for that particular sister of hers.
"It's not fair, Leilah's worked so
hard," Lavish was wailing to Pulivia. "She never wanted much, just to be..."
"She'll heal," Pulivia assured before VioletBlood pulled her to one of the last food stalls before the check-in line and bullied up to the counter.
Lavish was also drawn in the redhead's wake. "But what if she... what if she's worse? She can't live by herself as it is! What if she loses what little independence she has? And that's before my mother reacts to all this..."
"That... that will be very hard," I said, floundering. "I knew some girls at the orphanage with similar challenges, but they were adopted and prospered." There was a ghost of jealousy in my voice, like a faded scar, not that I got those anymore. Among the girls my age, I was the last one to be adopted, and that was only after earning the House's highest award for gallantry. I knew what it was like to be passed over by others, to be seen as... deficient.
"Leilah was adopted, rescued from an orphanage far worse than yours, Countess. Mother has really done a lot for her..." Lavish gave a soft smile as we shuffled forward as the line advanced. "The rest of her daughters are a fair bit older, and more established, than Leilah and I."
I nodded. I only had some experience when it came to the political intrigue family dynasties got up to, but a younger, and arguably spare, daughter as a dashing pilot had obvious utility, to burnish the credentials of a key senator in the Curia. And a... a very cynical person would look to caring for someone like Leilah as a way to display compassion.
Tail flicking, Lavish's face clouded. "It's not like that," she defended, so rattled that she barely managed to be offended by my unspoken implication.
I held a hand. "It's really not my place to say or critique such a thing. I'm happily adopted myself."
Lavish studied my expression and nodded, relaxing slightly. "Thank you, Ma'am."
"At least eat something," VioletBlood grumped as she returned with Pulivia in tow and handed over some greasy collection of meats on a skewer from a bucket her subordinate carried.
Lavish automatically tore into the snack. I was still hesitant about eating before boarding myself, but the food seemed to help calm her.
And then VioletBlood handed me something fried on a stick. Reservations about eating before a trip were pushed aside by the delicious scent and social compunctions. Everyone around me was eating, and even Lavish was being made to eat to help settle her nerves. At this point it would just be rude of me
not to partake, potential stomach discomfort be damned. Biting into it, I was pleased to find it was poultry of some sort with a garlic, cumin, and cayenne spiced breading.
A nibble couldn't hurt.
The line kept marching forward with the people in front pulling out their tickets and identification: military IDs for the members of my Squadron and library cards for their dependents.
By the time I got to the ticket counter, I found that the surprisingly satisfying treat was all gone. The waiting Visha plucked the empty stick from my hand and tossed it in a receptacle near the ticket counter. The clerk checked my papers and buzzed me through the turnstile.
VioletBlood was behind me and, as her paperwork was studied, another bored clerk handed her a message slip. The Baroness's eye twitched as she nearly tore up the too-late missive announcing her subordinate's revised travel itinerary.
Leaving my angry fiancee to vent her spleen on the hapless employee, I went down the stairs, content to leave her as somebody else's problem to appease. Stepping off the stairs at the new level, I looked ahead, then back. It was a bit overwhelming to see so many people at once, even if I held twice as many under my command. At least I could console myself with the knowledge that most would split up and go their own ways once we arrived in Silvana.
By the time I got down to the platform, the pier had started to fill up with waiting passengers, including the "special passengers" I had noticed earlier. Seeing Lavish's state Melisande beckoned her and seemed to comfort the distraught pilot.
"Milly has a big heart," Visha noted as she pulled us aside to make way for some final cargo loading onto the rail car.
"That she does," I agreed distractedly as I gave the crowd another once-over, running through a mental headcount. All present and accounted for. Then, I turned my attention to the waiting train car. It was an immense beast whose large width somehow conspired to give it a low-slung, slumping appearance; up close, it was imposing, almost menacing, for all the solid dark railcar slept unmoving in its rails.
The glossy blue-black bodywork was chased in gleaming brass fittings and powder blue piping. Hissing vents and thick cabling were visible all over the single large railcar that thrummed with power even when stilled. The front half had hooded windows, while the back half could be peeled open to allow for oversized cargo, such as the tank. It resembled nothing more than a great bear, somnolent for now but containing a vast and motionless power held in the offing, ready to lash out in an instant.
"I just checked with the porters! All our bags are loaded and secured," VioletBlood chirped as she came up beside us, her tail swishing in pride.
"Now boarding for Diyu," a conductor in a double-breasted navy-blue uniform with shiny buttons announced as she walked up the platform and, with great ceremony, opened the passenger door.
Boarding was efficient and happily bereft of any great fuss. At the edge of the platform I paused for a moment, then briskly walked up the boarding ramp, VioletBlood guiding us towards our seats. I shook my head, shoving the brief unease I'd felt when I approached the train-car away. The trip by rail was the safest leg of this whole journey.
Strapping in, I smoothed my uniform top and frowned, still haunted by the vague disquiet. Eager for distraction, I looked to my left, grateful that VioletBlood had managed to get us window seats. There wasn't much to look at outside, but it beat the uncharacteristic tightness of my skin.
Is this claustrophobia? I wondered, running an eye up to the compartment's low ceiling.
No, that doesn't feel quite right either…
The half-dozen or so rows rapidly filled up as the freight was double checked and the cargo door behind us was closed.
My subordinates took up only about half of the seats but soon almost the entire compartment was full as other passengers filed in to fill the gaps. As they found their seats and my stomach gurgled, I rolled my shoulders and shifted my tail, striving to scrape out what little comfort I could find in this chair.
Melisande had insisted, in an only slightly muted display of her usual ebullience that Lavish and Pulivia sit next to her and Lucia. An offer the junior pair of fliers hesitantly accepted at VioletBlood's nod. They seemed to be providing some measure of comfort for each other.
The conductor stepped up to the ramp and stood halfway in the rail car. My tail curled at her casual disregard for her own safety. "Final boarding for thirteen hundred hours, twenty-seven minutes transit to Diyu," she announced, inspecting her pocket watch.
After looking around to make sure we were all secured and that the platform was clear of any last minute boarders, the conductor nodded. Closing her pocket watch with a carrying
click, she stepped back onto the platform, pulled the ramp back after her, and pulled the door closed, sealing us inside.
It was just us passengers aboard the train-car as the shunting engine grumbled to life behind us and began pushing us forward. It felt like the rumbling purr of a waking leviathan, shaking the frame of the car and pushing us forward. The concourse with its two levels and splayed platforms retreated behind us. As our single car and engine lumbered forward, another car slipped up to take our berth, the new arrival identical in every way to our own steed. Another cog in a vast, endlessly complex machine, through which fragile lives passed without leaving the slightest mark.
The doors in the large wall ahead of us slid open revealing a long hall-like chamber. Heavy power cables and trunks of cooling piping all snaked towards the center of the hall where an intricate scaffold-like structure.
Resembling the ribcage of some giant metal beast the railway tracks lead straight into the opening in the center of the construct.
The blast door slid back into place behind us with a dull, booming,
clunk. As we drew closer, the Gateway grew larger in the front-facing windows and the air became thick with coiled energy. It was like stepping out into a thunderstorm.
My horns tingled as our railcar began to slide under the rune-inscribed ribs of the gateway. Even in an idle state, the air over the Gateway's struts shimmered like heat rising off hot asphalt. This close, I could make out a ghostly double of the enchanted ribs.
That was the thaumaturgical connection bleeding over. On Diyu was another Gateway, the exact twin to this one. Both had been constructed at the same time, from the same set of components, and the same artificers engraved them together. In a very real way, there was only one Teleport Gateway. It simply existed in two places at once.
This was a major limitation of such travel. Transiting a gateway would only take a person to its twin. Which was why the Mursam Transit Concourse connected to four distinct Gateways.
Reinhild's and all the other kitsune's ears quivered as the Gateway powered up. I supposed they were just as sensitive as the rest of us, perhaps moreso.
"Why is this taking so long?" VioletBlood complained as the rail car came to a stop. We were now entirely within the dozen or so scaffolding ribs that made up the Gateway. There was a thud and clunk as the small shunting locomotive disconnected and trundled back down the tracks.
"We're going to be there soon enough," Visha assured as the vibrations grew and the glowing within the Gateway increased.
"Do not leave the chamber. Ready for transit," the announcer said via the speakers in the ceiling of the rail car. "Please secure all high evocation systems and ready for transit."
My tail curled as the energy grew. It was like being on an airship before teleport but more... focused. A Gateway's main advantages over a Teleport Rune-equipped airship were range and frequency. The former was not applicable as Mursam and Diyu were within one airship jump, though the other three worlds were much further out on the spine. But the lack of flexibility was the system's main disadvantage.
"Transit in three. Two. One."
There was a flash and a buzzing in my horns. For an instant, it felt like I had been catapulted into the sky while my stomach stayed on the ground. Then the pressure subsided, and I blinked out the window. For a gut-wrenching moment, I cursed my hubris in not following mother's advice. Thankfully, I managed to get control of my nausea.
We were still within the rib-like struts of a Gateway, inside a cavernous concrete room very similar to the one we had just left. VioletBlood gave a quick glance out the windows, then tilted her head back to give me a skeptical look, utterly unimpressed.
"Welcome to Silvana, local time is ten-hundred hours, five minutes," an announcer smoothly stated in the same bland, vaguely Lentia provincial accent.
"See," I assured and then pointed out. "Look around: the ceiling here is lower and the support cabling and cooling lines are in different locations.
"I suppose so," VioletBlood conceded with poor grace, and crossed her arms.
"It is a fast way to travel." Visha smiled as our rail car shuddered as a new shunting engine drove up, coupled, and withdrew the car out of the Gateway.
"And the longest leg of our journey is over in the least amount of time," I announced, looking over the seats and out the window as our car was pulled through another set of blast doors and up to the Silvana Fleet Port's concourse platforms.
"It will be nice to come back home and check in on my cousin," VioletBlood said as the rail car approached the platform.
Visha's tail flicked.
"We've invited your family over for the holidays," I assured her. They would have a lengthy journey ahead of them if they meant to accept that invitation, though; Amber Island was about twice as far from Eastern Province as Silvana.
"I'm sure they'll be able to make the trip," despite her sharp smile, VioletBlood's tone was reassuring.
Visha's face showed naked, but happy, shock at the gesture.
"Oh Islander Girl, it was going to be a surprise," VioletBlood gave a haughty laugh as the engine slowed and we stopped at the platform.
"That's very kind of you, LoveBlood," Visha acknowledged after a pause, and smiled graciously.
The baroness waved it off. "It's the least I could do. Getting your mothers to accept the tickets as a gift was the hard part."
The door opened, and a new conductor stepped in. She wore the same overly ostentatious uniform as her dimensionally-separated sister. "Welcome to Silvana. Please gather your personal belongings and disembark in an orderly fashion."
We stood up and exited onto the platform as bidden by the voice of uniformed authority. As we stepped clear of the shuffling queue, Melisande and Lucia stopped to say their goodbyes to Lavish and Pulivia.
I gave the quartet a private moment before approaching, my Vs falling into position behind me. With most of my subordinates splitting up to find their own tracks back to their homes from here, this was my chance to send them off on a high note. The four paused their conversation to stand to and salute. I returned their formal gesture and, when they relaxed, gave them a sympathetic smile before turning away.
Their time and, more importantly, their bereavement and pain was their own, beyond the chain of command. Yet, I was their commander, and Melisande and Lucia's loss was red ink in my ledger. Even if their grief was their own, I took a piece with me when I left them on the platform, for it was mine, bought and paid for. That was part of being a leader, and so it was a pain I could not share with that bereaved pair, two where once had been three. That was also part of being a leader.
I hoped that my smile conveyed to them that I at least understood their pain, even if I could not share their grief. If that sentiment was missed, and all they took from it was an obligatory platitude duly rendered, that would be fine as well.
Duty done, I turned to my V's and smiled more warmly. With them, at least for now… I was free of rank, and of command.
I was on leave, and I had come home at last.
+++++
The Oily Lemon was much as it was months ago. There were more grandiose wine bars in Silvana, of course, drinking holes drowning in frippery and bristling with carefully curated collections managed by the finest vintners money could buy. But, out of all of the establishments in the city, this was the chosen haunt of the Fleet Pilots and Legionary Fliers, separated from the Imperial War college only by a short walk up-slope.
Despite location and a clientele consisting of troopers, journeymen, artificers, and other hard-working, hard-partying folks, the Oily Lemon enjoyed a somewhat surprising reputation as a quiet and discreet venue, where one's mild pleasures could be indulged without fear of commotion or discovery.
"My Lady, are you receiving guests?" a waitress in a brief yellow uniform said, after giving me a slight bow. She stood at the doorway to our private covered patio, almost vibrating with eagerness to be useful.
"May I ask who they are?"
The tall amber-haired hostess approached on dainty hooves and deposited a pair of calling cards on the table before the couch I was lounging on with my Vs.
Blinking, Visha looked up from her fragrant shellfish soup while VioletBlood set her brandy glass down with all the smooth grace of a born and bred noble. Gibbs, not too far away from us, put her clay pipe down, her sour expression flickered before she clamped it down with a mask of neutrality. It even seemed like the patio next to ours, separated by billowing drapery, had quieted down with anticipation.
I could understand my companions' reactions. Both cards were rather plain and straightforward. The first Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang's card was refreshingly blunt and to the point, although I realized most would have considered that "
rude" for our rung of society; Mila Caenis, at least, had sprung for some decorative scrollwork and a tasteful watermark of swirling air in the corner of her card.
"Yes, of course. Please send them in," I directed, nodding to the hostess. As she bustled out, I tried to conceal my mild unease. It was somewhat strange that they would seek me out, but we were still in the early stretch of our leave, and it was no secret where my party was staying tonight.
Best that their business be handled now, I thought,
That way, they can go away and I can enjoy the remainder of my vacation in peace.
"Maybe they just arrived today?" VioletBlood offered.
"Or sometime yesterday after our teleport," Visha offered.
"At least they caught us before we went to the opera." VioletBlood smiled with anticipation.
"I'm just happy you found a show that wasn't based on religion or war," I said, not bothering to conceal my evident relief.
"The Markswoman is a romantic opera," my fiancee purred.
I raised an eyebrow. The play was a Diyu adaptation of a centuries old Germanic Opera, and my knowledge of the source material inclined me heavily towards skeptical disbelief towards the claimed romanticism. "The play focuses on shooting contests, forestry management, and magic bullets."
"And Maxine wants to get engaged to Agathe!"
"To get the custodianship of the lands Agathe's mother holds. It is a pure business arrangement," I sighed , feeling the first twinges of a headache beginning to brew behind my horns.
"Is that not romantic?" VioletBlood pouted. "Besides, it ends with a wedding!"
"One of the brides accidentally shoots the other in her wedding veil!" I countered. "Hardly the sought-for conclusion to most romances, I should hope."
"I thought the opera was more about not hastily making deals with Elder Demonesses," Visha amiably said, adding her own opinion to the simmering pot.
"And a lesson about why only a fool would use Elder Magic to cheat in a shooting competition, especially when a Daughter is judging," Gibbs remarked with a thoughtful puff on her pipe.
She sat some distance from us, at the far end of the patio by the railing overlooking a garden. With both her daughters deployed, Legionaries seconded as ship-board security as part of a patrol far Up-Spine, she had elected to spend her leave at my estate. A choice that a handful of our Ritualista in similar situations had elected to avail themselves towards as well. The bonus pay for their maintenance duties was enticing, but not as much as the chance of a comfortable billet or a trip home.
"Could just be a social call. Before all you fancy fliers scatter to the five winds," the chief Ritualista said.
I pondered that. Four of my pilots and over a dozen Ritualista, were staying on Mursam. Meanwhile, the other four pilots who traveled with us yesterday, well, five, if IronTalon was included, had continued their journey.
That was a somber note.
On another down beat duty of command, Pulivia had promised VioletBlood to keep her appraised events with Lavish's sister.
"Maybe they heard about you getting your new suit... mostly," VioletBlood smirked as she swirled her brandy before taking a sip. "I bet they're just eager to hear the details."
"It's not even complete," I stared at her. "And the... upgrades I've seen so far are..."
I looked to Gibbs for support. DarSkStar's Blood, didn't she claim the suit was really hers and I was just the meat component? Of course, she had... concerns of her own.
VioletBlood also glanced over at the Ritualista, who pointedly returned to study the garden's pond and babbling brook. Perhaps she wanted to avoid discussion of subjects above her station; perhaps she would rather be in the next patio over with the other Ritualista. If that was the case, Gibbs could get up and pass through the privacy drapes whenever she wished. She showed no signs of movement, though.
Laurentia and Flavia from my maintenance team, as well as three Ritualista from VioletBlood's crew and one from Visha's, were having a rather relaxing time on the other side of that curtain. I had looked the other way when they'd arrived with dates on their arms, as well as when they had ordered seemingly every intoxicant available on the Lemon's menu almost before they were even seated. I was hardly ignorant about what soldiers got up to on leave, especially ones of our nature, but as long as things were done responsibly then I could hardly kick up a fuss. Especially since I had Visha and LoveBlood both practically hanging off me, the latter who was enjoying a bottle herself.
So long as I didn't see any of those partaking first thing in the morning in the company of a pair of civic constables, or Shore Patrol shippies, I would be happy to keep that blind eye well and truly turned.
"Your new armor is very impressive," the redhead was pouting. "And it'll be even more impressive when it's complete."
"
If it's ever complete. They still haven't given me my mask back," I said, not at all petulantly. It had taken much to keep that mask, and myself, from being some Elenese trophy. Having it out of my control for this long made me... uncomfortable.
"I'm sure it just takes time, Countess," VioletBlood said in a reassuring voice.
"Reinforcing damaged structure, proofing runes, and certifying displays on a face mask is indeed a lengthy process," Gibbs stated as she glanced at the doorway. We could all hear our guests approaching.
"It's been two weeks," I grumbled. The MuArc facility here should be more than capable of making the changes in this much time. Especially as the mask part of the faceplate could, with great care, be detached from all the structural, optical, and enchanted components.
Really, what could possibly be taking them so long?
VioletBlood looked out into the garden "Perhaps there's a large queue?"
Eyes down, Gibbs had redirected all her attention towards refilling her pipe.
"LoveBlood…" I began, recognizing the caginess in my Baroness's voice, "What do you know?"
"Only that the mask may not be at a... standard repair location." She flinched slightly under the weight of my unimpressed glower.
"Oh? How intriguing? So, where is it, hmm? And how long were you planning on sitting on this information?" I asked with an edge to my voice.
"It wasn't my idea! It was a surprise. And besides, Honestas and SapphireFiligree do wonderful work," VioletBlood said nervously.
"The same people who made her crown?" Visha asked, looking up from her soup at the familiar name.
As soon as I recognized the name a kind of numb dread filled my gut. The kind born from the realization that something terrible was going to happen and you were far too late to do anything about it.
"Of course it is," I sighed.
"I'm sure they'll make time for us to visit their shop so you can see their accent work before we go to the train station tomorrow."
"I thought it was a surprise?" Visha asked.
"I'm sure they'll make an exception for a Countess," VioletBlood evaded before gulping down the last of her drink. Relief filled her green eyes as a chipper hostess escorted Fabia and Caenis onto our patio.
I straightened up and idly adjusted my uniform top to be as presentable as possible. Visha and VioletBlood certainly didn't giggle, not at all.
"Countess, Baroness," Caenis bowed her horns in greeting.
"Primus Shadow, Centurion Gibbs," Fabia added. "Thanks for having us."
"Please, sit," I gestured to an open couch opposite our low table.
My fellow Squadron Leaders sat down. VioletBlood nodded to the waitress still hovering by the door. She took out a pair of glasses and filled them from the Baroness's bottle.
"Please order whatever you like," I warmly told the pair, and countered their protests with polite insistence until they relented.
The waitress nodded as they picked items off the menu and scampered away with new lines on her notepad.
Caenis raised her wineglass and gave an appreciative sniff before sipping. "Sorry to impose."
"Oh, it's no imposition. It's good that we could meet up. Are… you going back home as well?" I asked with mild trepidation. I knew Caenis had a… complicated relationship with her family and her home county and was unsure of whether I should be opening that line of questioning at all.
"Aye, she's going back down to the Midlands. I'll be heading further down south to Danum ways to enjoy some warm beaches."
Visha's smile grew at that. "That sounds lovely. Will you be doing any boating? Oh, maybe some swimming! I've heard they have some beautiful reefs down there."
"I was debating going fishing," Fabia admitted.
That seemed to get Gibbs's interest. "What type, Ma'am?"
"Spear."
Everyone nodded to that while I tried not to shake my head at the casual lust for unnecessary violence of these crazy demons. It's not like I'd never heard of spear fishing as a human, it was just… so woefully inefficient, not to mention excessive.
Well, far be it from me to bemoan the impractical rituals of blood thirsty demons, I sighed internally.
I myself would be far more content with a nice, civilized, and relaxed rod and reel.
"We should go hunting when we get to Eastern Province," VioletBlood abruptly declared. "Maybe Reinhild can arrange something. Oh! How about Fiona RedTail? In addition to being a great cook, she supposedly was training to be a groundskeeper and good with broodlings; she'll surely be of great assistance!"
"Neither are from Eastern Province," I countered, though I was impressed that VioletBlood had started to learn more about the servants as people. Reinhild and the other maids had the d ay off seeing the sights of the capital and were going to have dinner on their own. The plan was that later tonight they would catch up and we would go to the opera together. Well, most of the kitsune would be coming with us; the kits and an adult as babysitter would remain behind at the hotel.
VioletBlood shook her head at me. I wondered if she was still pouting that we were not dressing up for the show tonight. "Yes, yes, your Forest Person friend would know the area, but we can't assume he'll be available, but the maids will be with us."
I blinked. "That's... true."
"And, either way, we can make a day of it. I'm sure you have lots of interesting game trails in your county," Visha added with her typical diplomatic touch, smoothing the brief conversational rough patch.
"I mean..." I looked to Fabia or Caenis for help and found nothing but smiles, both apparently far too amused to bail me out. "I suppose we could do something…"
"Both common folk and nobility can enjoy a good woodswalk, I'm sure," Caenis drawled. "Course, in the former case, it's less sport and more sustenance."
The waitress arrived, and clearly, Fabia was thinking of her own vacation destination as, in addition to white wine, she had ordered a plate of spiced kebabs laden with chunks of grilled tuna garnished with lime, onion, and tomato. Caenis's own order, cider and a pita with cubed fried pork, was more humble but smelled no less appetizing.
"Have either of you heard from Julia?" I asked, inquiring about our Fourth Squadron Leader.
"Last I heard, she's still on Mursam," Fabia shrugged.
"She'll be going somewhere nice," Caenis assured me.
"Good, she could use some time away to relax too," I nodded, trying not to look too covetously at Fabia's meal.
There was another polite knock, heralding the hostess's reappearance. Her tail flicked as she held out two more calling cards.
As I took the ornate cards, Visha quietly took her aside and ordered us a set of kebabs. I smiled at her initiative as I glanced down at the new cards and read the names embossed upon them, all gilt scrollwork on textured stock. They were very impressive, but I had been given the calling card of one of the Imperatrix's Daughters. Compared to the enchanted calling card of Aedile Felisia, these were nothing special.
With a fresh glass of brandy, VioletBlood leaned over, nearly draping her head across my shoulder as she tried to get a look at the cards. "Well, well, well, more guests!"
"How does everyone keep finding me?" I asked, waving the cards.
"This was the first place we looked. It was where Pilots would hang out when I was at the War College," Fabia revealed with a relaxed smile, clearly enjoying her wine.
"May I ask who?" Caenis nodded to the cards.
"A couple of Legionaries from the cadet Squadron we taught last year," I said as the hostess went off to escort them in.
"Maybe it's a coincidence?" VioletBlood offered. "Our cadets were going here long before we started! Some have been patrons of the Lemon for a very long time indeed." She gestured to Fabia.
"I'm not that old!" Fabia grumbled while Caenis chuckled.
Wanting to avoid the attention of irritable officers, Gibbs wisely focused on her pipe.
As if to contrast the most certainly
not "old" Fabia, the hostess returned with a pair of young, painfully-eager-looking Legionaries.
With dark lavender skin and slim pointed horns, Lady Marilla Balbina was a wispy daughter of the head of the Mason and Runewright Guild, whose aetherial nature was underlined by her breezy cobalt blue dress. According to the pins in her braided silver hair, she was in the Scouting Branch and held the rank of Volantes Centurion. She stepped into the room with a demure elegance.
At her side was the shorter, and more pugnacious form of Armis Centurion Baroness Cornelia SpiralHorn. True to her name, her horns curled like mine but were far thicker. Her ash-colored hair was cut in a short pageboy. From her unit markings, she had been assigned to the 18th Heavy Armor Legion. It was a venerable Legion and, critically, not the one commanded by her mother, a Lady Legate.
The pair took in our own uniforms and hair pins before saluting. "Thank you for having us, Ma'am," Cornelia said in a prim voice that was the clear result of many careful elocution lessons.
"Especially when you were already entertaining," Balbina added, a little bit perturbed at being in a room with three Prefect Centurions and two Primus Centurions.
I returned the salute. "No, it's a pleasure to catch up. Please make yourself at home and allow me to make introductions."
That seemed to ease the tension a bit. Fabia and Caenis helped by not being in "intimidating commanding officer mode", Visha helped by ordering more food, and VioletBlood even pitched in by ordering a round of drinks.
By Balbina and Cornelia's pleased reactions, it seemed that my Vs had remembered their preferences in both meat and drink. Cornelia sipped a wineglass of amber fluid which was apparently a mix of white wine and blackcurrant liqueur while Balbina enjoyed a repast of champagne dashed with absinthe.
While I was still eager for my own set of kabobs, though Fabia was nice enough to share one of her own with me as I waited, I did appreciate Visha ordering things the kitchen could whip up quickly for our new guests. Having some refreshments and sitting down on the last couch, my former cadets seemed eager to talk.
"We were meeting up as both of us were in the city for a few days and decided to catch-up, and well... we heard that you three were also in tonight, Ma'am."
I managed not to rub my face in discomfort. It was not like I was planning on traveling covertly, but it was a bit disquieting how easily I could be tracked down in one of Diyu's largest cities.
"How have you two been doing?" I asked in a bit to change the topic, adding, "I see you've both secured some very good postings."
I was trying my best to be sincere and gracious, especially with Cornelia. She had been one of the more tragic washouts of the cadet program, subject to an inner ear deficiency that only came out under extreme maneuvers, much to hers and everybody else's surprise. Basic flight lessons in a trainer RP were not enough to trigger the vertigo and motion sickness. The training scenarios in my lesson plan were a different matter.
"Good!" She answered with commendable enthusiasm and only a shadow of hurt at being surrounded by RP pilots. "I'm a commander of my own Lavin Mark 4 and have one of the best crews around! I'm working my way up to commanding a troop of four tanks once a slot opens up."
"Impressive, excellent work," I saluted with my glass. And it was true. I had given her a good recommendation, and Cornelia's mother was a tanker herself. However, such connections would at the most net a green-horned mediocrity command of a Vestal Light Tank.
Nepotism alone would be enough to ensure the greenhorn's first command would be nothing less than the most recent version of the Vestal, instead the casement armed bone-yard candidate their skill and experience more justly merited. But connections only went so far in the Legions, and past a certain point a wink, a smile, and a tail swish ceased to carry much weight. The other heavy armored vehicles in the Legions were more specialized, expensive, and bulkier. And in an air-mobile force, such assets were quite valuable. Too valuable to entrust to a talentless fool, no matter how well-heeled.
And yet, no less a fine mount than a Lavin had been entrusted to Cornelia.
The pinnacle of armored vehicles in the regular Legionnaire services, the Lavin was a main battle tank that possessed a formidable balance of mobility, protection, and firepower. It was more than capable of handling all the usual targets of a tank, such as infantry and other armored vehicles, but it even mounted respectable anti-air countermeasures. Enough to satisfy the judgment of BlackSky's air-dominant legions.
All of which came at the cost of each Lavin weighing in at no less than seventy tons attached to an equally weighty construction and maintenance price tag. A valuable resource to any formation, let alone one built around air dropping every pound of kit. For such a force, not an ounce of airlift capacity could be wasted.
"Have you gotten any chance to field-test it?" VioletBlood asked with a fang-baring smile, her tail eagerly swishing.
Cornelia shook her head regretfully. "We haven't had a full deployment of the Legion. My Cohort, the Fifth, and also the Sixth Cohort participated in some peacekeeping support work out on Laotia, but that was a glorified deployment exercise. We hardly even fired the Minerva rotary canons."
I raised an eyebrow. Her Legion only had a couple dozen Lavin battle tanks. The commitment attached to that "support operation" included a third of the 18th's heavy armor. "How long were you there?"
She shrugged. "Felt like we spent more time on the two
Cerberus class airships than we did groundside. Plus, we were all split up with the bulk of our centuries on the troopship following along."
"I can believe it. Laotia is what, a week out from Diyu?" Visha asked.
"Almost," Cornelia agreed.
Caenis and Fabia shared a curious look with me. I nodded in silent agreement. As a Long Range Insertion ship, the
Cerberus class was a battleship-sized airship built for one purpose: rapidly deploying tanks into a combat zone. Thus, it carried tanks, the heavy dropships to land them, and extra RP to provide escort.
If the intent of the mission planners had been to simply transport a couple Cohorts worth of heavy tanks from one secure base to another, then a single Palisade armor transport could have done the job. That class was designed to transport two armor Cohorts, including all their armor, Legionaries, artillery, cargo, and support vehicles.
A
Cerberus, let alone two of them, would have been a massive over commitment for such a mission. DarkStar's Blood, there weren't even a dozen such leviathans in the whole Household Fleet
"I kept count by the number of different meals the shippies served us. The Fleet really does eat well," the Armis Centurion said guiltily.
"Even on a
Venture they really try. I'd know a scouting patrol would end after the fourth time we were served sorbet and iced Camporelli biscuits," Balbina agreed, her tone wistful with the remembrance of sumptuous meals served on the Fleet's dime.
"Oh, so you've done an offworld combat drop exercise? How was it?" Visha asked, having made the same conclusion as the rest of us, but true to her nature focusing on the positive. "I always thought it would be really impressive to land all that armor at such speed, but also quite intense. Not much room for error or any time for correction."
"It's not
that far of a drop," Cornelia said, her pointedly casual air an implicit swagger at having done something even Legionary Fliers found risky. "The Pugio comes in pretty low and the tank's mounted on a pallet with 'chutes. The Lavin is a sturdy girl, between the suspension and spirits, she can handle it."
"And it was a quiet deployment?" I asked to confirm.
"Yeah, everyone says Laiotia is a 'future flashpoint' or whatever term Legionary Letters uses, but that far out most of the Elenese colonists are too busy surviving than causing trouble." Cornelia shrugged, then tossed back the rest of her drink.
I shifted slightly on my couch. "Future flashpoint" was putting it mildly. Far from Diyu, Laotia was the only world we shared with House Elena, and could very well present a choke point for further explorations up the Spine. Though that, of course, depended on what new worlds the Cartographer's Guild found out there, in the inky dark...
And on nothing finding us instead…
"Most?" Caenis casually asked, not missing a thing.
"There's always some rabble-rousers but BlackSkyvian armor put the fear of the Imperatrix into them!" Cornelia proudly declared. Then she coughed. "Or... they put their heads down until it was time for us to leave. Whichever."
"It's a Legionary's lot to go where we're told regardless of logic or reason," Fabia said philosophically before going back to her meal.
Caenis nodded in agreement, but I could feel her pensiveness. Was that display of heavy armored mobility part of our Harp's World operation? Or just some other bit of off-world saber rattling?
"How about you? How's Scouting Branch treating you?" I asked Balbina to Cornelia's poorly concealed relief, happy to have had the officers' attention no longer upon her.
"It has its moments," the young pilot nodded.
Oh DarkStar, when did the greenhorns start to seem so young? I thought to myself as I took a drink.
And how bad will it feel in a couple years when they actually are younger than me?
"Where are you stationed?" Visha asked, with the friendly smile that opened hearts and loosened tongues across worlds and lives.
"The
HFV Coxswain, which, as far a
Ventures, go isn't so bad," Balbina assured, though the way her wings unconsciously stretched a bit put some lie to her statement. "Since she's part of Northern Approaches' dedicated recon force, the
Coxswain doesn't have a
teleport system."
"That would save some space," I admitted, a touch belatedly. A swishing of tails from the servers had distracted me. Blinking, I turned my mind back to what the young scout flier had said.
With a total complement of under sixty, the
Venture class was the smallest airship in the Fleet. It made sense that such a lightweight vessel had been stripped down to the bare necessities of military life and function. There were versions that had the extra expense, tonnage, and cost of teleport runes such as the
HFVTamora from my last mission, but those were dedicated scouts for mobile fleets, flotillas, and the like.
"Most of the weight and space we saved just got used up carrying extra spare parts," Balbina admitted before brightening. "But, Cargo Hold Two did have an extra refrigeration unit installed! So having more good food did make the rather... cozy berthing space and all those draining patrol flights a bit more tolerable."
All of us nodded with sympathy. A
Venture was little more than a mobile hangar, barracks, and maintenance bay for six Ritual Plate, Ritualista, and the ship's crew. While the airship itself had its own quite good scrying systems, its main role was housing the RP, who used their own scrying suites to extend the picket's range of detection. Depending on the loadout of the
Venture in question, the resulting coverage could grow quite broad. Even a Polydora at sedate cruising speed had a combat radius of over seven hundred fifty miles for a four hour mission, which meant a lot of telemetric intake from the diminutive mothership.
"It's funny, Ma'am," Balbina went on, sounding more than halfway nostalgic. "Back at the Adria Testing Range, under your training, I was so jealous watching you and the other instructors go north to chase off those Elenese pilots, but after months of patrolling the western half of our border with Elena..."
"You find yourself repenting of your old wishes?" VioletBlood smirked as she nodded to the returning servers, holding out a glass in the full expectation that it would be taken, refilled, and returned to her.
Fabia and Caenis looked between each other with amusement. Given their backgrounds, I could see how they found young noble officers shamelessly expecting to be waited on hand and foot to be sufficiently noteworthy as to be an amusing novelty. Where Gibbs seemed utterly indifferent towards VioletBlood's attitude.
The purple-skinned pilot nodded. "I stopped wishing for exciting patrols early on."
"Ah, wisdom dawns," I quipped as a maid – at last! – handed me a platter of kabobs. I smiled and dug in, after repaying Fabia for her loan by letting her take one of the fresh kabobs.
"It really does stress things," Balbina sighed. "Mostly for us pilots but everyone else too, to some extent. It's really trying for our Ritualista in particular."
Gibbs puffed her pipe. "That is a big weakness of that class. Keeping a persistent air patrol is an exercise of trying to run up a muddy slope. Any slipup and all your progress is gone as you tumble downhill."
Recognizing the chief maintainer from her former days with the cadet Squadron, Balbina grimaced while we pilots all nodded in sympathy. "Um... yes, Centurion Gibbs, we try to do our best for our Ritualista, but a three shift schedule is hard for everybody. For us Pilots and, of course, for the poor short-staffed Ritualista crammed in that tiny maintenance bay."
"And there's no margin if one suit gets a maintenance casualty due to something breaking and it can't be repaired in the hours before it has to fly again," Gibbs half grumbled, narrowed eyes set on some distant horizon where her work was never finished.
"Honestly, I sort of prefer the missions where the Coxswain is short-handed on RP," Balbina confessed, looking down into her glass. "Those times, the ship itself is the sensor platform and we're just support. Even then, though… Just four pilots split up across the shifts, all in readiness to scramble? It's pretty tiresome."
"That's why it's best to have multiple
Ventures, or on a true patrol, mixed
Ventures and
Kolibris. I mean, that's why the
Kolibri is called a patrol craft," Gibbs stated, "that way the maintenance staff, both the Ritualista and on the airship crew aren't being worked to the bone."
"Starting out in Ritual Plate did make me far more accepting of the maintenance needs of my tank," Cornelia admitted. "But you have your own bunks at least, right?"
Balbina laughed, "Kinda, but privacy isn't a thing on any airship, there's no pretending when it's just a couple dozen of you on only a couple decks. You know everyone, and you know
everything they're into."
"Still more space than inside my tank," Cornelia countered.
The recon pilot flicked her tail. "I dunno. I heard you girls have fold-down bunking in the back of the hull where the secondary-gunner station is."
"Bunking is generous," the stoutly-built centurion assured, with the voice of cramped experience. "I've seen mortuary slabs that looked more comfortable."
"Balbina, what are your plans after the Scouting Branch?" I asked, finishing off my first kabob.
It went without saying that the Scouting Branch wouldn't be the end of the line for the rookie pilot, and nobody would expect her to stay long. The normal career path for a BlackSkyvian RP pilot was to start out in a low risk role that would rack up plenty of flight hours. A posting on a humble
Venture would guarantee plenty of opportunities to gain those hours as well as build familiarity with the Fleet's most numerous airship. The next smallest and next most common model, a
Kolibri, was the other traditional stepping stone for Fleet Pilots and Legion Fliers. As House BlackSky had plenty of borders, sky, and colonies that needed patrolling, the appetite for
Venture and
Kolibri based Squadrons was bottomless, no matter how green the fliers in those Squadrons' ranks.
"I would like to go to a more Legion-supporting role. I've got a Gorgon Rig on my Polydora and have been training to get into an Occultia class," Balbina said with pride, her bright eyes seeking my approval.
I gave it to her with a nod. "Good. That is a very difficult role, but you were at the top of your training Squadron in regards to scrying operations and interpretation. Play your cards wisely, and I suspect you will fulfill your dream soon."
"The Occultia is rare but its sensor capabilities are critical to the Legions," Fabia agreed. "A very honorable post indeed."
"How have the patrols been?" Caenis asked, her tone casual.
"Well... Elena has been getting more active in patrolling their side of the border. According to the old salts, we're seeing more Zana bombers in the air now than in the last few years," Balbina's tail flicked.
"Those ancient, fuel-gulping beasts? Someone in the Elenese Strategic Air Group must have the Coordinator's ear to get her budget increased," Caenis mused. "What kind of missions are the bombers running?"
In a world, multiple worlds, where airpower ranged from titanic airships to the wearable Ritual Plate, heavy bombers were often caught in a bit of a limbo: requiring far larger airbases and support than tactical aircraft, let alone RP, while having far less endurance and range than an airship. Getting a bomber offworld was a complicated evolution involving at least partial disassembly unless the largest of cargo airships were used and, the destination world of course had to have infrastructure adequate to support the bomber. Combined with the considerable cost of research and development for the massive beasts, it meant that most Great House militaries didn't bother trying to burden themselves with maintaining any kind of significant strategic bomber force. Of the ones that did, House Elena topped the list.
I leaned forward with interest to indicate I too was curious. Outside, I could hear children playing in the garden.
"Nothing too provocative. Looks like standard patrols and training missions. No flying along the border or playing games on the North Atropia Sea. But they're getting more flight hours too," Balbina admitted.
"Maybe training up more pilots?" I ventured, giving Visha's hand a squeeze.
"And more of their ground crew and maintainers," Gibbs added. "Perhaps our rivals to the north are expanding the number of skilled airwomen across the board?"
"I know they're old and obvious targets to any Harmonia, but when it's just you and your wingwoman and a
Venture scout that's slower than a flying freight-load of Torpedoes, it can be intimidating," Balbina admitted, cradling her glass in two hands.
In form, the Zana strategic bomber was nothing exotic. It was less expensive than an airship with an equivalent munitions capacity, and was faster and smaller, though at the cost of increased operational fragility and a reduced range of mission profiles. House Elena mitigated the decreased endurance and flexibility by basing their bombers near or in their own territory. The concept was to have the airstrips a bit more defensible while still allowing the bombers to be used to strike targets on Diyu. Given its age, the Zana was vulnerable unless escorted, but even with this resource cost, the bomber still freed up Elena's smaller airship fleet for use in offworld and other high endurance roles.
But the Zana was not Elena's only heavy bomber.
"What about the Perchta?" I inquired. If the Zana were the bomber version of the Perun RP, a cheaper, aging, but still capable platform for heavy strike, then the Perchta bomber was akin to the Volos RP, a highly-veiled, very expensive platform.
Balbina frowned. "Only saw a few of those. More of them recently, but obviously they don't like to get near where a sensor platform can try to track them. If the rumors about their veiling are true, though, some might have gotten uncomfortably close."
We nodded. Much like the Volos, Elena tried to keep the Perchta away from prying eyes. Though "close" was a decidedly relative word to apply to the situation, given the large cruise missiles the chiropteran Perchta could carry in its belly.
"Flying more of both their old birds and the new pampered hangar-queens?" VioletBlood asked leaning on me and stretching out a bit to get comfortable. "The mask-lovers are really getting aggressive."
"It's not an aggressive posture exactly. There's more bombers up there, but more... training for a future fight," Balbina pondered.
My tail curled as I pondered what Elena could be preparing for. All across the Dimensional Spine, the resounding thump of the war drums seemed to grow louder by the day. My two former cadets were far from the only quietly anxious Legionaries observing the mounting tensions. I was certain that everyone assigned to a border post would have similar stories, quietly shared with friendly company in unofficial meetings like our own. And then, there was the whole matter of Harp's World and that damnable mirror.
On the other wing, there were those "peace talks" out on Dunwitch. For whatever those were worth.
The servers flitted busily in and out of the room. They were all quite diligent and attentive in their efforts to keep everyone refreshed, and were thankfully very unobtrusive, save for one aspect: their tails were rather distracting.
I shook my head. At least the noise level outside our private patio had eased as some parents had gotten their young ones under control.
"It's getting a bit crowded in here," VioletBlood pointed out, fanning herself dramatically as if she were about to swelter and faint. "Maybe we should open the drapes and merge with the Ritualistas' patio?"
"We can do that," Miss SunShower bowed her head, ears perky, her three fluffy tails wagging. "What do you think, Mistress?"
"I was led to believe you and the other staff had the day off," I stated, taking count of the number of kitsune busy at work on the patio.
"We were going to see the sights and have dinner, Ma'am. And you did say this was a good establishment. Besides, we were going to meet up anyway before the play tonight," Reinhild said, and gave a fittingly vulpine smile.
"Ah."
"It's efficient," VioletBlood nodded approvingly. "They get to have a nice meal, and we get some attentive service."
Draining my glass, I stared at my fiancee. "They can't serve us
and eat."
Both my Vs and... everyone else on the patio gave me incredulous looks. From noble to commoner, from Ace Imperial Heroine to greenhorn tanker they all acted as if I had said something foolish. Gibbs shook her head and muttered something I chose not to hear.
"My dear Countess." VioletBlood patted my hand.
I steamed under the sunlamp of her condescending smile. "It would be disorderly!"
"Disorderly, she says," VioletBlood repeated, amused exasperation alight in her gaze.
I mutely grappled with the best words to voice my protests, but found to my frustration that wrestling my own tongue was like wrestling with deep-born kraken.
"Oh, let them open up the next patio over; it'll give them more room. Besides, our Ritualista found some very fine dates for tonight," Visha assured me. "It would be a shame to leave them out."
Reinhild bowed her head. "The kits have been playing out in the garden but they will need to sit down and have some food soon, Mistress."
"Fine, fine, make a party of it," I huffed, honestly feeling as if my input was more for appearance's sake than anything else. However, as someone with plenty of experience as an imperial officer, I knew the importance of making a proper appearance as well as what a losing battle looked like.
Thus, as the kitsune opened up the patio, I squared up my shoulders, straightened my uniform top, and leaned back on the supple leather. Flanked by my betrothed and my mistress, it was easy to play the part of a confident noble officer. I was a Mistress of the Air, doted upon by loyal servants whilst lounging in a salon surrounded by her protégées, peers, servants, subordinates, and guests.
From across the patio, Cornelia and Flavia's eyes met. The tanker's tail curled as she stiffly nodded to my Ritualista. Whispering something in her date's ear, Flavia downed her wine glass but, after a moment's hesitation, waved the shorter centurion over. I had heard rumors that Cornelia, before she transferred out, had played cards with some of my subordinates, at least until Visha stepped in.
Now that we had two patio alcoves opened up, there was more space for the kitsune to circulate. The Ritualista, having a surprisingly relaxed meal, looked up and raised their cups to us. Their mirth was sincere, especially when platters of food and bottles were brought in.
"I know I'm a demanding commander," I said, pitching my voice to carry on the patio. "Perhaps I overcompensate for my age, maybe I'm too hard, no? I'm sure any of you could ask the two other Squadron commanders here, and they would give you a... categorical answer."
This drew some chuckles.
"But," I continued, "I know that if my girls have good food, then my girls are happy. I know that cheerful attitudes and high morale are critical for success, that such memories carry the spirit through long hours crammed into a suit or spent keeping said suits running. High morale is equally important in a tank or even in a trench. Sadly, I can't promise to always keep you fed on the finest of vittles when the Imperatrix calls upon us."
Recalling my etiquette lessons, I held out my glass and Reinhild most obligingly filled it to the brim. "But when we're on leave, that is a promise I can make," I saluted with the glass with a polite cheer. "To your health, ladies! Eat to your hearts' content!"
To my pleasure, I saw the crowd relax after my toast and begin to mingle, with people wandering between both patios.
Taking a sip, I raised an eyebrow and compared the color of the drink in my glass with one across from me. "This is the same cider that Caenis is drinking."
"Oh, live a little," VioletBlood wrapped her tail around my waist, a bit higher up than Visha's tail. "Take some of your own advice, Tauria."
"We have plenty of time tomorrow," Visha assured.
I leaned back, snagged a bite from my fish, and took a thoughtful drink. My Vs were right, I could relax here. Besides, this was supposed to be a vacation.
+++++
I looked out the window of our sleeper car suite. Over the past day, the whispering chatter of the rails had worn itself a groove in my waking mind, sinking down into the firmament until I could scarcely even notice it as background noise.
If only all auditory annoyances were so easily ignored.
We were rounding the eastern edge of the Lesser Romwell Alps now, still plodding along the iron-railed path. Our route east out of Silvana roughly hugged the foot of the Alps, so that path ran under the conifers marching up the slope of these, the final worn-down remnants of a mountain chain that marched nearly two thousand miles across the breadth of House BlackSky.
The sky had grown grey with increasing cloud cover. As the light faded, I put my book down on the little table bolted under the window between two sets of luxurious leather seats; no sense in straining my eyes.
Opposite the windows, VioletBlood was stretched luxuriantly out across the bed. Curlers in her hair, she had a lacquered fan out and was sprawled with an utter lack of ladylike grace, massively enjoying having a berth to herself.
It was not that she was unused to spending time in close confines with myself and Visha. Compared to some of our past deployments, the day we had spent in one of the Bovitar Silvana Condanium Line's sleeper cars had been nothing short of luxurious. Still, my betrothed enjoyed being able to stretch out freely, unconstrained by the worry that a questing wingtip might find an eye.
And space to stretch out like that was a relatively rare treat aboard a train. Even in the dining car, such displays were seen as uncouth.
"Oh drat, feels like snow," she languidly pouted as she drew herself up from splayed to a more... artistic pose, perhaps sensing my attention. Her tail flicked in annoyance, and one of the curlers seemingly unwound from her crimson tresses.
I eyed the landscape rushing past. "Perhaps. What makes you say that?"
"My Zephyr are getting giddy," she grumped before flicking the fan and, with a gust of wind, two more curlers obligingly twisted and plopped onto a small pile.
"Maybe it's because they know we're almost at Bovitar?" I replied eying, the book I had been reading. It was a guide on the northern half of Eastern Province. It even had a chapter on Larium County.
Pausing halfway done with her hair care, VioletBlood smirked at the small pile of books. I had gotten bored with JanGaurd's Fighting Airships 433AR and had started reading something more relevant to my county. "You are such a bookworm."
There was a rumbling sound as a westbound train on the parallel track went past and blocked the view of the landscape. I studied the hopper wagons full of grain, tank cars containing all sorts of chemicals, anonymous boxcars, and flatbeds with lashed-down crates, vehicles, and industrial equipment.
"Ah, some variety. It's not another train with nothing but lumber or cattle cars," VioletBlood muttered.
"Livestock is a vital industry, particularly for our very literal neck of the woods," I replied as the bright caboose at the end of the freight train went past. "I for one find it hard to believe that you of all demons would object to the prompt delivery of beef on the hoof to the capital."
"I can't believe all this heads to the capital," VioletBlood angled her head to watch the end of the train.
I waggled my hand. " Hmm… I doubt it's heading to Silvana directly, even if it is the major regional industrial hub. My guess is that particular train is likely headed to Solva just a ways west, or perhaps more likely, to Celeia in the south. That
is big trade city, and it straddles the gap between the Greater and Lesser Romwell Alps."
VioletBlood rolled her eyes. "Obviously. I mean, unless for some truly soft horned reason you wanted to waste your time and money going through Andromachin and Luxon territory to cut around it, hitting Celeia is all but inevitable. Not like there's many other major rail
and river nodes this side of Vyhraj mountains. How else is one supposed to get from Lacus Superum to the Gaurida Sea in affordable elegance?"
I raised an eyebrow. The chatter of the rails grew as we hit a rougher section of tracks, and I could just hear the ghostly sound of someone practicing a harmonica down the car.
VioletBlood stretched her back before reaching out and picking up the guide book. "I
can read a map, my Countess, and, I can read a railway timetable," she purred, inspecting the book before smirking. "My, my, a rather... elementary reference on my piece of the Province."
"I've had Larium County for three years and I've hardly been there," I defended. "There's no connection for me, I feel like an absentee landlady."
Tossing the book onto the bed beside her, she smiled when my eyes followed it. "I sympathize. I've spent a lot of time away from my barony." Her tail flicked. "But... those are my family's ancestral lands."
Sensing her mood lower, I decided to try to cheer her up. "Will you be meeting your cousin?"
"That's the plan," VioletBlood brightened. "I can't wait to show you off to LavenderFang."
"Another day of being arm candy?" I laughed. "Not that I minded last night, we did make for a very dashing group in the dining car yesterday." And the meal had been a very nice sendoff for Fabia before she parted ways with us to take a Great Southern line all the way down to Danam.
"No, no, no. That wasn't you being arm candy." VioletBlood wagged a finger as she rolled up and gave me a toothy grin. "Last night, I was
your arm candy."
I leaned back in my chair. Idly, I noticed that whoever was practicing that damn instrument in the background had finally stopped. "And Visha?"
"An Imperial Heroine who needs a noble betrothed and a mistress? My, how virile. We put on quite the show in the dining car, almost as good as the opera the night before that." She leaned over put her hand on my knee. "Besides, I want you to show me off, and not just to high society. There's one high ranking noble in particular..."
Tail flicking, I looked down. I knew LoveBlood wanted to prove herself in the eyes of my Duchess. "It's not all a show."
"I know. I respect your piety and I..." VioletBlood's prideful expression slipped. "I... we're still a bit young to get married."
I bit down on my first response about how the Church was not quite that restrictive, which allowed me to focus on what she said before that. "I'm not that pious."
"It's just the two of us," VioletBlood said, a touch sharpish.
"I'm serious." I held up a placating hand. I tried to keep in my annoyance, particularly as that damn music had returned. "I know what people with real faith are like, and I don't have it."
"Please, if DarkStar walked through that door, which of us would accept her without question and offer her our sword?" VioletBlood asked with a snort.
"I'd have more than a few questions." I shot back.
LoveBlood rolled her eyes, "Oh, don't tell me, you have a whole gospel filled with annotations just waiting for her clarifications?"
I opted not to answer that. Instead, I let the passing view outside the window snag my attention, turning my eyes to look at the mountains. All the deciduous trees were already stripped of all leaves, and the further the forests got from the fir trees the more it looked like winter in anticipation. Soon, snow would be coming.
A quiet sigh by my side tugged at my focus, "You're not some fanatic, Tauria. Besides, you didn't deny that she will return."
"I... believe the odds are slim that she'll come back in my lifetime," I stated., hedging as best as I could.
The redhead sat up.
"That's not your heart talking. That's your mind. That's you measuring the millennia since DarkStar died and figuring out the probability that this is when she'll return."
"There's too many unknowns," I admitted unhappily. It vexed me to admit as much.
"You are a very rational commander. You know 'the book'; you've helped write the latest version of 'the book'. You can teach 'the book' extremely well. But you train us to develop our instincts to build that gut feeling to know when 'the book' isn't enough," VioletBlood pressed, her green eyes gleaming. "When you don't have all the information and have to make a decision right now."
"That's not quite how I'd put it. I only helped Quirinus propose a few edits to some proposed revisions," I cautioned, feeling like I was trying to hold back a landslide. "But, fine, I understand your thought. How does it apply to DarkStar, though? Does it apply to DarkStar?"
"Why not?" VioletBlood shrugged. "Besides, you already made one key assumption, that DarkStar will return to us. Is that a gut feeling? Faith?"
"I suppose," I sighed, feeling like I had just lost some verbal game of chess I'd blundered right into without any real intention to play. There was a lesson here about trying to deal with nobles.
"It's like with the Islander Girl," VioletBlood said, her voice quiet.
I frowned. Those two seemed to be getting along, but LoveBlood could be very prideful. "Pardon?"
"You went from corresponding with her in some Journal on Air Combat to taking her into your Flight. You kicked out Octavia to make room for the Islander Girl! And she has been with us since Vualia!" She pulled her knees up and leaned over on them. "You knew there was more to Centurion Shadow."
"I..." I exhaled. I hated keeping secrets from her, from any of the people I cared about. "I have an eye for talent."
"Obviously; you picked me. Not to mention the rest of the Squadron," VioletBlood's pride returned.
"Yes, I did pick all of you," I said with more confidence.
Straightening herself up, VioletBlood put on a thoughtful expression. "It's a useful ability."
I tilted my head. "You have an idea."
"Depending on your seneschal... Alexi Frugi. I believe her name is?"
"That's her."
VioletBlood nodded. "Yes, depending on Frugi's actions and the condition of your manor and its grounds, you may need to hire more staff. Or replace some. Or some other emergency."
I kept my composure. Frugi may be mousy and demure, but she was competent and, in a return of the same nepotism that merited a well-connected greenhorn a tank, had come recommended by my eldest sister. "Don't borrow trouble, LoveBlood. We'll find out if things have gone bad."
VioletBlood gave me a cynical look before shrugging. "We'll see soon enough. It's not like our arrival will be a surprise."
Both of us tilted our heads as a familiar presence tickled our horns. "Do come in, Islander Girl," VioletBlood announced just as Visha knocked.
The door slid open, and Visha stepped in. Her tail happily swished as she bowed her horns to VioletBlood before closing the door and taking the seat opposite mine. Her bag, once small enough to sit reasonably on her lap, was plopped on the floor with a definitive
thud.
"Looks like you had a profitable time," VioletBlood noted.
"It was entertaining," the brunette allowed.
I studied her with a frown. Visha knew most of my secrets, but she did not know all of them. Did she have... suspicions? She had first hand experience with the advantages of being a reincarnate. My tail stilled with the concern that was always slithering in the back of my mind.
All Visha had to do was compare any suspicions Lieutenant Serebryakov had about Tanya von Degurechaff's uncanny wisdom and experience with the uncanny wisdom and experience Centurion Shadow possessed.
"I'm glad you had a good time," I said, trying to compartmentalize my concerns
For a bare moment, Visha's eyes were unreadable. After what seemed like an agonizing silent interrogation, her warm smile blossomed. "We should probably get ready and pack up the cabin," she said, looking out the window. Flurries were starting to hit the glass, where they melted and streaked down.
I followed her gaze. We had left the Lesser Romwells behind us and were now rolling down through flat terrain that had increasing numbers of fields, pastures, and hamlets.
"We'll be in Bovitar soon enough," I agreed before wincing as the eerie mournful noises returned to scratch at just the edge of my hearing
and my sanity. "That blasted harmonica!"
My Vs exchanged a look. I was a bit jealous that they could so easily ignore the noise masquerading as music. LoveBlood sympathized with me, but I could tell she was playing it up. "It really is rude that someone keeps playing at all hours. Shall I repeat my displeasure to a porter?" VioletBlood asked, her voice oddly sincere.
"I did just see a steward on my way back, and she swore it was someone one car down who has since been quieted. The poor dear swore up and down that Conductor IronDove runs a tight and proper train," Visha added.
After a moment, the talentless novice ceased her practice, and the cabin was silent save for the chattering of the rails. "Don't bother," I huffed, annoyed, but not to the point of truly making a scene about it, "we're almost at our station. But we really should pack."
"Maybe we can have the maids do it?" VioletBlood airily suggested.
I raised an eyebrow at her.
VioletBlood gave a tiny sigh. "I'm saying you're a bit... frazzled. And if Reinhild helps me pack up our things the Islander Girl can take you to the club car to get something to eat. Unless… maybe organizing your luggage will help relax you?"
"I'm fine," I assured her and got up to start packing. Thankfully, I just brought an overnight bag into the cabin; the rest of my luggage was in the baggage car.
The train began to slow a bit as it turned in a southeast direction. The terrain flattened out as the tracks descended. Orchards, pastures, and towns became commonplace.
Closing her oxblood leather weekend bag, VioletBlood wistfully glanced out the window and said. "It is good to be back."
Bovitar lacked the tiers of indulgent and ancient architecture and greenery of Silvana, the raw industry and bold, exotic Art Deco of Vordurium, or even the frontier gumption of Victrix. However, Bovitar had a clean, sleek charm of Art Moderne buildings: handsome structures without being ostentatious or expensive.
"It is a pretty city," Visha agreed, buttoning her own bag shut. More rails joined with our track. A few ran parallel to ours, but most switched onto our track. The steady slope became noticeable as the train spent its final miles to descend level with the lower city.
A major trade city, Bovitar straddled the Lethe River. While the major military base of Castra Bovitar and the airfield were on the upper elevations overlooking the river, the central train station and its freight yards were down in the valley, close to the port facilities, river docks, and depots.
Shortly after feeling a stranger approach, there was another knock on the door. "Final stop, Bovitar. Final stop, Bovitar. Be ready to disembark," the conductor said in a sing-song voice before she went to the next cabin to repeat the ritual.
"Thank you!" Visha replied through the door.
"Check to make sure everything's packed up," I said, putting my bag by the door next to VioletBlood's leather and brass-trimmed confection and Visha's canvas rucksack.
The train slowed as it ran over the girder-framed span of a bridge that arched over the Lethe. Disturbed by our passage, a small flock of blackbirds cawed and took to the wing. We all paused to look down at the wide waterway filled with laden barges and the occasional fishing vessel trawling about in the light snow.
Not far past the bridge was the station, tucked away in the expected snarl of tracks crisscrossing about with various sidings, lines of freight being shunted about, and other passenger trains.
Preparing to disembark, I opened the door to our cabin and, to my mild surprise, found Reinhild SunShower and two more maids waiting in the corridor. I couldn't help the little sigh that escaped when I saw that, unlike our previous brief train ride two days ago, my servants were back in full maid regalia.
My rank, it seemed, had rediscovered me.
"Mistress, may we take your bags?" the kitsune asked, her three tails swishing.
"Well..." I hesitated before VioletBlood elbowed me in the side and Visha seized my bag from my unresisting hand and handed it to the head maid, neatly resolving the brief social snarl.
I held my tongue. Trying to press the issue would only make things worse. The light from the empty cabin's window dimmed as the train slowed and passed beneath the arching iron and glass overall roof that enclosed the passenger platforms.
Reinhild smiled. Her promptness sprung from experience. Any Legionary, or Auxilia, knew there were two ways to leave a troop-train: either be the first off and avoid the queuing, pushing, and struggling in close confines, or wait and be among the last ones off, trapped with the lost bags and stray hats.
The train stopped, and railway porters overdressed in their ridiculously formal uniforms opened the doors. Stepping off the train and onto the paved platform with its generous skylights, I pointedly strode forward and off to the side, away from the bustle sure to swamp the rapidly emptying car. Thankfully, the air was still reasonably warm in the vast echoing space, free of any errant drifting snowflakes.
Then, once I was sure I was no longer in the way, I turned around. I saw that the rest of my... party had also endeavored to exit as early as possible. Our heavier pieces of luggage were being unloaded and placed onto dollies. The various footlockers and seabags were far too bulky to move around without wheels, not to mention the Ritual Plate caskets and the collection of blocky crates.
Gibbs must have been in the baggage car supervising the unloading as she and the other Ritualista were already out on the platform inspecting the seals, locks, and the status of the crates and RP caskets. Given her sour expression was at its standard level of irritation and I did not feel any specific anger radiating from her, I presumed that nothing had been tampered with
I stopped to look at the collection of subordinates, servants, dependents, and growing baggage train and wondered when I became the kind of person who traveled with such an entourage.
Even among the bustle of embarking and disembarking travelers, we stood out as new arrivals. Bovitar was no Silvana, so there was a bit less high fashion. Unlike the gaudy styles of the capital, which encompassed a bracing range from decadent gowns akin to ruffled airships, complete with internal structural frames to sleek evening wear with corsetry and straps that were as equally difficult to move in, but for the opposite reasons, things were more understated here. So much so that myself and my entourage, especially VioletBlood stood out. Not the least because few people around here wore traveling silk dresses with matching full-fur coats and had a gaggle of uniformed maids.
To say nothing of garments that had to be painted on, both figuratively and all too literally, or outfits that were more jewelry and ornament than cloth. Even in Silvana, most folks wore clothes with some concession to reality. Only the nobility, those with means, actresses, or dedicated companions could dress up in such excessive pageantry on the regular.
As "the gateway to the east", Bovitar was a major trade hub to Andromache, RedStorm, Luxon, and all points beyond. That placement imbued the civic personality with more of an eye to brisk trade, punctuality, and only a bit of gimlet suspicion for foreigners who could, of course, be here on matters of business. All together, the folk of Eastern Province tended to be a bit more practical than people hailing from the core capital-adjacent provinces.
I eyed the amount of people in fur-trimmed winter coats, smart suits with bodices under thin-lapelled jackets with matching pencil skirts, hosiery, heels, and prim hats perched between horns. I found myself envying the comparative simplicity of their outfits.
But, dress however they might, all the other travelers seemed normal, at least enough for our standards. My tail flicked with a slight anxiety. At least Reinhild had packed enough clothes for the various upcoming events. Yes, everything was fine. Now, I had to...
"Breathe, Countess." VioletBlood squeezed my hand, the tips of her talons gently pressing into my palm.
"But we need to catch our connecting train, and go north up to Switchbend, and from there hire transport to County Larium," I stated, my voice being calm and even, however, I nervously looked up at the skylights above which were starting to get spattered with melted snowfall.
The Bovitar central station was larger than the stops since leaving the capital, but it was more functional than the others. "If the weather turns, we might not be able to get enough teamsters willing to make the trip and we'll have to spend the night," I added, my mouth running away with concerns and contingencies.
"Switchbend has perfectly lovely hotel," VioletBlood calmly stated as her grip softened. "The whole town is rather nice. Your mother even has a hunting lodge out by those parts, if I remember her latest letter to me."
"You've thought of everything, LoveBlood," Visha cheered.
My betrothed puffed up with blatant pride at the horn-stroking. "I
do try. How could I not be a good hostess and guide to my part of Eastern Province?"
"Thank you for your help," I said, trying to feel out my anxiety. It was a familiar sensation, one that reminded me of standing before a much taller figure who I was loath to disappoint and wanted to...
My horns buzzed. Tail going straight, I looked across the busy concourse.
Another noblewoman and her entourage were approaching.
VioletBlood's green eyes sparkled as she lifted the hand she held mine in and gave a subtle wave of recognition. "Now, Islander Girl, I trust you can be your most charming self? We want to make a good impression with Duchess SilverFlight and assure her that she was right to grant permission for our claims on her daughter."
"Of course Baroness," Visha sweetly said as she bobbed her horns.
I frowned between my Vs. "What did you do?"
"I just asked for some local help in making travel arrangements," VioletBlood assured with a sharp smile.
The crowd parted as the entourage approached. As the distance closed, my own subordinate straightened up with the Ritualista standing to one side in a row while the maids made sure the kits were quieted down before taking their own positions.
A quartet of cat-eared maids orbited around their mistress in a revolving constellation far less casually set up than their initial formation would seem. In lace ruffles and fripperies, the two slender and delicate-looking ones carried large lavender hat boxes secured with quick-release snaps. Iridescent shimmering patterns were sewn into their little gloves with silver thread. Their skirts were gathered at waist-height, and an entire myriad of implements could be lurking within that abundance of silken folds. Beneath bouncing curls, their expressions were playful, as long as one did not linger on their hungry eyes.
The other feline pair were far larger, with muscles clearly visible through their uniforms. Those uniforms were of a more practical cut and consisted of reinforced bodysuits, with frilled skirting and jackets added almost as afterthoughts. Forgoing the maid caps of their more domesticated partners, they wore their hair in long, wild manes, full of body and personality, that tumbled down their backs. These latter two had large parasols folded at their shoulders and had elegantly tooled leather shoulder holsters that were not so much concealed as complimented by the cut of their jackets.
All four had slitted eyes that studied everything with a lazy, predatory confidence matched by their flicking tails.
In a dark purple side-slit evening dress with silver accents and gathered shoulders, Volantes Tribune, Rorarii, Duchess SilverFlight approached. My adoptive mother was a tall woman with silver-grey skin and cobalt blue hair. Her wings were broad, her tail long, and every inch of her dripped in noble bearing.
My tail swished as her eyes fell upon me and my Vs. She smiled.
Two of my sisters stood in her shadow.
I immediately recognized the leanly, stark form of Volantes Prefect Centurion, Rorarii, Lady Castellan ArgentShroud, standing nearest our mother. Taking after my Duchess, the main difference my sister had from our mother were her hooves and that her tail bore a fur trim. The heir apparent looked slightly amused at the tableau before her. I counted myself lucky that none of her daughters were here; the younger ones were quite the handful.
Opposite her, on our mother's left shoulder, and standing almost literally in Duchess SilverFlight's shadow was Doctrix Countess RedWing. A pale russet, a golden ribbon perfectly matched to her eyes pulled her hair back. She decadently filled a flowing stola of pale green silk with silver thread to her best advantage. Over the pleated robe hung a dark cloak with stark ivory trim. The fingers of one slim hand curved around an ashwood staff with an obsidian orb and layered gold inlays.
More academically minded than the rest of our family, RedWing held a research fellowship in the Applied Scrying Department in the Imperial University of Belum. Naturally, a pair of intricate runes were tattooed on her cheeks. She had consulted for both MuArc Amalgamated and Inter-House Mercantile Aviation, but last I heard, she was currently working with Imperial Blimp and Freight's Tactical Air Division on some entirely mundane and routine audits of calibration tests. Granted they were very involved tests which required such an august personage to spend so much time at an IBF laboratory. With all her research work, my sister was almost as absent from her county as I was.
Despite being three times my age, Doctrix RedWing was still one of the Duchess's younger daughters. Her almost pinkish smile quickly grew larger when she saw the Ritualista, Polyxo, and their Gorgon Rigs that I had brought.
Behind them all was the slim, quiet form of Miss Alexi Frugi, Seneschal of County Larium. With short black hair and a neat grey suit whose green bodice nicely complimented her midnight blue skin, she looked every part the demure administrator. Carrying a top-clasped leather case, her amber eyes lit upon me and she gave a slight bow.
I returned the gesture and looked past the seneschal to see that three more people had been loosely pulled along under the tug of my Mother's social gravity if not quite pulled fully into her orbit. They were... somewhat perturbing.
Looking at my mother's maids, VioletBlood sent me a quite smug emotional pulse. As if to say that her birthday gift of a servant was "the best thing ever!" I also had no doubt who had
suggested to Reinhild the uniforms for the rest of the trip.
"Daughter, it is good to put eyes upon you again," Duchess SilverFlight declared as she swept me up in her arms, her wings folding over my own.
Her pride of bodyguard handmaidens dutifully moved around to envelop the three of us in their protective domain. The four servants eyed the skulk of kitsune warily; the smaller of the felines seemed spirited by their stances and swishing tails, while the larger two seeing potential challenges were more...
frisky.
"Thank you. It was an... eventful mission," I admitted, a purr growing between us as I put my head on her shoulder.
My mother held me for a moment, her tail helping pull me closer before her wings opened and she let me go. The hugs my big sisters gave me and Mother gave my Vs were a bit less intense but were no less heartfelt.
The Duchess looked us over. A frown flickered across her face. "Perhaps you can catch me up on your travels tonight? At least about the things you can talk about."
"Tonight?" I asked, the twice-bloodied officer of war trying to scrape together what remained of my professional composure even as the rest of me couldn't decide between vibrating in place from excitement or trying to grab another hug.
"Someone reminded me there is a charming restaurant by a certain hotel in Switchbend," Mother said, her eyes falling implacably on VioletBlood.
My betrothed bowed her horns. "Yes, Your Grace. Ward's Hardware and Vittles specializes in freshly caught local game and fish."
One of the women in the trio waiting by the side, and, I noticed, rejoicing in a rather fancy hat, gave a little smile at the name.
"You've been talking?" I asked my mother and my betrothed, mildly horrified.
"Since I knew you would be too hesitant to ask about how to move so many back to your estate, I took the liberty of asking someone who would know how to do so." VioletBlood gave me a toothy smile that covered up the diffident humility she was truly feeling. "You don't have to do everything yourself all the time, my Countess."
"Hmmm...I suppose, you've thought of everything then," I bowed my horns to my Vs. It was nice that they were trying to make this vacation easier for me. It helped to think of it in those terms and not that they were taking charge of things for my own good.
"Everything?" Mother chuckled as her eyes flicked up.
I looked up to the skylights and saw more snow blowing about. It would be quite impossible to see any protective Ritual Plate through that swirling mess. Unless in a monumental clusterfuck, the pilots behind the controls managed to stop , cut veiling, and all but crash directly into the station for good measure.
Of course, Mother's mercenaries were far too professional to make all those mistakes. And if she was willing to call in air support then that would explain why Mother was also going about with only her close protection detail in sight.
Lowering my gaze, I saw that Reinhild was quietly chatting with one of the petite feline maids. Good. "Is there reason for concern?" I asked my mother.
Duchess SilverFlight waved my worry off. "Oh, just business, Tauria. That is why I was happy to run into your seneschal."
My sisters exchanged a very subdued set of looks. "Perhaps more introductions are due?" ArgentShroud ventured.
"Quite so!" The Duchess spun around and bowed to the trio standing by but not with the group. "I do apologize, Ladies. I was catching up with my youngest."
"No apologies necessary. Family is important, especially when a daughter continues the... family business, yes?" the blonde of the group purred, her deep voice oddly-inflected. Her short hair was two-toned, with platinum streaks over a brassy bold color. Her smile was sharp with neat, pointed teeth, and her eyes were flat red pinpoints. She had tall horns that arced back and a long tail that slithered behind her.
"And Ward's can dress a catch and cook it with reasonable skill," the pale-haired woman in the hat drawled before putting her case on the ground, doffing the head covering, and bowing to us. Her hat was matte-black and wide brimmed, complete with a ribboned hat band holding a small bouquet of white roses in place. Her white hair was cut in a tousled pageboy. Looking a bit of a mix of the outdoorsy with the fashionista, she wore a dress whose gathered skirting gleamed with gold trim, a cloth bodice over a ruffled top with gathered sleeves, an oilskin coat cut for winter working, and leather boots that, despite their somewhat pointed toebox, were at least sensible enough to walk beyond a paved path.
"Your Grace, Ma'ams. If I may make introductions?" the demoness asked, picking up her long leather rifle case. Her tail had stilled with nerves, and her pale wings were folded close to her back.
The Duchess included her head. "You may."
"I am Mistress RainsFord Songstress, I am a... guide for the Forestry and Mines Guild."
"Miss Songstress is one of the best hunters east of the Vyhraj Mountains," ArgentShroud provided.
"You are too kind, I'm perhaps the best in Eastern Province," RainsFord said in a loose, easy Midlands accent.
"We were looking to do some hunting," VioletBlood noted.
"Charmed," I bowed my horns to the hunter.
"I'm also new to the province. What brings you here?" Visha asked, her tone all innocent. It was only by spending two lifetimes with her that I knew that there was more to her probing question. Centurion Shadow must have felt there was something untoward with the hunter.
"Oh, same as the rest of us, supporting the railroad," RainsFord said, and glanced at her two... companions? No, there was no trust between these three women. Business partners at best, and probably only drawn together by circumstance at that.
"It is important work," the blonde huskily noted, an almost feverish gleam in her crimson eyes. Even to someone who appreciated logistics as much as did, she seemed very... passionate about the railroad. "We are making
great progress."
"And you?" I asked, turning my attention to the still nameless demoness. "You are?"
"Oh, I'm with the railroad," the blonde waved off my question, a greasy smile crossing her thin lips. She had a bold crimson jacket over a charcoal bustier and matching red skirt with pinstripes. Her sling-back heels were a bright glossy red that reflected the station's lights. "I wouldn't dare to interrupt a family reunion. I've left a calling card with Miss Frugi. Perhaps you can arrange a meeting, at your convenience."
My Seneschal gave me a meek nod.
"And what line are you from? Great Southern, BSC, a local line?" I asked, pressing against the non-answer.
"It is a kindly offer, but I'm not sure that is needed," Mother interrupted, giving the blonde railway representative a nod. "We will need to consult potential routes. There are many development options in the Duchy of Argenia."
"Of course, your Grace, we all must strive. Ever onward and ever upward," the lady from the railway agreed amiably, though her red eyes flicked hungrily.
"And this is Miss Crow," Mother said, introducing the final woman.
Miss Crow, an alias if I ever heard one, was a pale woman with long black hair falling over one yellow eye. She wore a black suit under a glossy coat that ran to her ankles. Her features were sharp and angular with an avian sensibility that seemed quite fitting, considering her sobriquet.
Unusually, despite feeling like a Diyu demon, she had taken a human guise or at least had hidden her wings, horns, and tail. The style was unusual, but she still had the same scent and emotional signature of one of us.
"Thank you, your Grace," Miss Crow bowed her head in the same gesture as if she had horns to present. "I am a private security agent and investigator, bonded and certified with several Provincial Guilds. I have experience working for various timber and orchard concerns and, of course, the railway." At the last, she nodded to the blonde lady from the railway.
So a private sector spook for the railways. I reasoned, gut already curdling.
"Charmed," I replied and studied the trio. "Mother, is this about what I think it is?"
Duchess SilverFlight nodded. "I do apologize for springing this on you so suddenly and adding weight to your holiday leave."
"Is this a rail extension?" VioletBlood asked.
"Quite so, my bloody baroness!" the railway representative crooned, speaking out of turn. "If your lady plays her cards right, she can get a line going right past her county seat. That would make travel far more convenient, yes?
"The geological surveys, aetheric assay, and land appraisals show some promising routes," Miss Frugi happily added.
"But the negotiations are in a delicate stage. The northern part of the province is ripe for development," ArgentShroud exhaled. "However..."
"Some malcontents disagree," Mother stated.
My tail stilled as I evaluated my Duchess meeting me here flush with mercenaries and a sketchy trio of... troubleshooters.
Duchess SilverFlight gave me a sober look. "I've charted a couple cars going up to Switchbend. We have plenty of time to get to platform six and load our baggage, plentiful as it all is."
Doctrix RedWing tittered at the unintentional joke.
Mother eyed her daughter before speaking in a measured and very prim tone. "And then we can talk... business on the way up. The railroad has some proposals that bear hearing out."
Mother must have read my skeptical mood. "And once we arrive, we can catch up for dinner, as a family." Her gaze swept over her daughters and my Vs.
I was too busy trying to contain my trepidation to be amused at LoveBlood's vain preening at her inclusion. "Of course, Mother. Shall we then?" I asked, gesturing down the concourse to our destination platform.
End Chapter 33
Nothing to worry about Tauria, nothing at all.
Thanks to Ahuva,
DCG ,
ellfangor8 , Green Sea,
Larc ,
Readhead,
metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and
ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter and helping with this whole arc. And Special thanks Readhead and MetalDragon for helping with tone of some of the characters, especially the latter with LoveBlood, and once again to ScarletFox for helping with the chapter the title
Speaking of ScarletFox, check out the latest omakes on SB, especially Omake 20: Gibbs's Rules.
Chapter 34 is going well, with nearly 7k words written. I've also got a bunch of good art pieces to post.
Ever onward, ever upward!
