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

[Sunshine]

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.

Interim Fanfiction and Fanart

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 34: County Encounters


The seat of Larium County was a charming little town named Jopecott which nestled snugly in a valley on the banks of the Veltian River. Surrounded by farms and lumber yards, roads radiating out from the town to connected of the little outlying hamlets and smaller towns to the main north-south provincial turnpike that ran right past the tiny little High Street mercantile and entertainment district, whose two bars and lone proper hotel stood ready to extract denarii from the pockets of the road-weary and the thirsty.

It was all quite pastoral, with plenty of outstanding landmarks. After all, what lucky visitor to Jopecott would ever forget such eminently memorable sights as the grain and timber exchange, the local church, a central library, the tavern square, the "meat market", and the docks?

Sarcasm aside, at least the Great House War museum and memorial lent some credence to the idea that Jopecott was an actual town and not just another provincial backwater.

All of those intricacies of status and municipal pride were somewhat lost on me, though; trapped as I was in a stuffy second story room in the county hall, itself right next to the far more grandiose county courthouse, I could only wish the architects had put less thought into making an appropriately impressive facade and more into ensuring the rooms were adequately ventilated.

A large table held the pride of place in the room, a topographic map the size of a tablecloth draped across it. The sprawl of Larium and adjoining counties was pinned down on the table, trapped within the boundaries of the CSR-issued fifteen minute quadrangle.

I tried to dismiss the way the logo in the map's bottom left corner made the skin on the back of my neck creep. The Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance did more than conduct shady off-world operations. Such maps were part of the public-facing role of that particular office.True to their name, they had a lot of cartographers in their employ and made some of the best maps on Diyu. While I had excellent reason to remain wary of Invidia, CSR in general were loyal subjects and servants of the Imperatrix.

I hoped.

It was that lingering uncertainty that prompted me to wonder if anything had been... omitted on this 432 AR issue map. It wouldn't be difficult to make sure any inconvenient little details went missing or were distorted out of all recognition. And that went double for the rest of the accumulated information heaped up on the table and surrounding the map. On sideboards were stacks of folios detailing each of the routes, each with exhaustive lists and diagrams of any bridges that needed to be built, grades that needed to be cut, analyses of soil composition and formation, and records detailing the ownership of all county-designated parcels along the lines of each route.

As the folios encircled the map, the table itself, and by complete coincidence, was encircled by representatives from the railroad, lobbyists from the timber concerns, august members of the county council, the property assayers, and assorted land surveyors with mud still on their boots, all of whom watched me with varying degrees of skepticism as I stared down at the whole pile.

Their skeptical regard was hardly surprising. I was the absentee landlady, a purported Imperial Heroine from the big city who had been given their sleepy county to oversee as part and parcel of her noble elevation. Now after so long spent away in the classified service of the empire, here I was, showing up at the seat of their power in a fancy suit with Legion pins in my hair, a mistress and maid-servant diffidently in tow. I had hardly spent a week here, far from enough time to establish any real presence but plenty long enough to threaten the local potentates' unchallenged dominion over the local levers of power.

A War Heroine absentee landlady was all well and good for the county's reputation, as long as she stayed away and left things to a sober-minded seneschal.

"I can see why this is a thorny issue," I stated, putting down the last folio. "Between the Imperial lands, the lands held in perpetual trust with our allies, the forestry lands, and the various freeholds, merely disentangling the ownership of all involved parcels will be… complicated."

One of the town clerks muttered something derogatory about knives and ears, which was doubtless an expression of irritation directed towards the local Drow community. The other two likewise muttered, something about stating the obvious in connection to my comment. While the animus of the former clerk was clear, I was not sure their two fellows' issues were with my age, my sudden appearance, or some misconception that I was an uninformed hoof-slogger only aping a feeble grasp on civil administration.

While I could, and indeed, would, hold their lack of discretion against them, I could hardly blame the clerks for their skepticism. I was essentially upper management, suddenly showing up out of the blue to take charge on a major project, the arrangements of which had all been arranged entirely absent of my participation. Not exactly the kind of thing that inspired confidence. Worse, they knew I would be gone in a matter of months, called back at the Imperatrix's command; I suspected they planned to endure my interference, wait me out, and then return to business as usual as soon as they saw my back, wings, tail, and all.

More fools, they.

The head surveyor was a wiry woman whose sharp, angular face mirrored the precise lines and measured angles of her trade, the tools of which – pens, dividers, and rulers – bristled from the pockets and straps of her vest. "That's only part of it, young miss. I mean," she hastily corrected, "you're correct, my Lady. The grade's not terrible, but there are a few rivers that require bridging, starting with the one right in town, not to mention the swamp up north that will also have to be crossed."

"And the routes have to match up with those labored upon by the next county over," the lady who had been sent to us from the railroad purred, her red eyes taking in the map as her tail swished like a hungry cat, eager to pounce. "No, it simply would not do. We must have a clear right of way all the way from Bovitar down south up to the very border in the furthest north."

I nodded to the blonde woman, ignoring the frustration building behind my horns. We had been flying around in circles for over an hour. "Yes, and that is the problem, Madam. Some stakeholders want the railway to go directly past their lumber yards for easy spur lines, while others think the terminus at Switchbend is already too close."

A councilwoman with gold glasses, a tight cobalt bun, and a ruffled dress that was as flattering to her form as it was several seasons out of date inclined her spiraled horns. I inwardly cursed, even absent LoveBlood's influence remained. "We are a plain folk in Larium, my Lady. Faithful and dutiful to the Imperatrix, but some... worry about getting a square deal." The council woman's oily smile faltered as her eyes flicked to the Lady from the Railroad.

Said Lady gave a bored laugh as she brushed imagined dust from her crimson suit jacket and retrieved from the coatrack an overcoat of some dark and luxurious fur, which she draped mantle-like over her shoulders. "That worry, eminently justifiable as it is, of course, is why the Duchess SilverFlight, in her Grace's great wisdom, asked you to spare some time to assist in this minor matter."

My eyes went from the map to the lady who had been sent to my county and found burning-crimson pin-like red eyes, and wondered which company it had been that had sent her as my Duchess had sent me. Surely I had been told as much, somewhere in the welter of introductions, but I couldn't quite recall that little detail. "I'll see what I can do. I can talk to some of my tenants." My gaze went to the lands held by the Lares and his people. One of the proposals cut across the bulk of their territory, but if just ten or so miles were added then the railway could curve around much of it. "A shorter path through their lands would mean the railroad pays less in leasing fees. How much variation is allowed in the routes?"

"Oh, as long as the waypoints are met, does it matter?" the lady who had come from the railroad asked in a bored tone, dramatically straightening the drape of her sumptuous black fur coat across her shoulders and giving everyone in the room a broad toothy smile. "Just consult with that one." The blonde waved, her shadows stretching over the room, to the head surveyor. "She knows the Railroad's demands. There are hundreds of miles of track to lay, and time is slipping. We must press on, you see. Ever onwards and ever upwards," the blonde airily stated as she strode to the door.

And with that as her goodbye, she was gone. Far from surprising the others, her sudden exit seemed expected. It was not, however, anything like how I expected a railway official to act. Again I found myself questioning just who had sent her, and from whence she came.

She had given no other detail than to say that she'd been sent by… the railroad. But a project this large had multiple sponsors. So, which line? Which office? What railroad?

I barely felt Reinhild's alarmed spike of anxiety, well-concealed as it was. Turning back, I saw that my maid had kept her placid, dutiful expression firmly in place, but her furry tails had slowed their customary near-hypnotic sway. They hung still in the air, almost like antennae searching for some disturbance in the conference room's stuffy air.

The whole room seemed to exhale in relief once the blonde railway representative left.

"It's not only the rail line expansion," asserted the councilwoman, breaking the silence and returning to the business at hand. "There's wells, electrification, cairns that need their stones re-pointed, enchanted, and consecrated. Satisfying the local spirits alone..." her voice trailed off as she adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses. "But with both the Great Southern and BSC lines sponsoring this work, leases on the right of ways, and Imperial and Provincial loans, we will have plenty of... support."

I frowned. The rates on such loans were not insurmountable, especially for those of us with access to the Legion and Fleet Bank. Suspicion of usury, however justifiable as it may be, was often a stated reason for reluctance to finance provincial development.

With her own Legion hair pins, Visha, in a nice leather bustier and matching skirt, looked every bit the part of a noblewoman's paramour. She gave the assembled table a winning smile. "Perhaps my Countess could have some copies of the main route plans made, so she can convince the necessary locals at her convenience?"

"Oh, yes! Of course!" the councilwoman said as she gestured to a clerk and a surveyor. Her tail flickered nervously; doubtless, she was still anxious after having had to deal with the representative from… one of the two or three railroad lines. "We wish you the best, and maybe we can discuss things... tonight?"

Reinhild handed the valise she was carrying over to Visha, who then gave it to the surveyor. I managed not to roll my eyes. Mostly by picking up one of the smaller maps and adding my own annotations to the proposed routes and property boundaries.

"I don't have any objections," I said. Not that I'm in any place to object without looking like a blundering fool, I thought while giving a self-deprecating smile. "I'll see if I can find any concerns or questions my tenants may have and pass them on to you. Not at tonight's dinner of course," I laughed. "But it will be nice to have you over for dinner."

"Thank you for your help," the councilwoman gave an unctuous smile as the surveyor fed more paperwork to Visha.

"Similarly, if you have any questions for me, you can call upon my manor," I said as the valise snapped close, before Reinhild helped me put on my coat.

There was more lingering relief as I made my farewells. I could sympathize; that railway representative seemed to be quite the vexing task-mistress.

Leaving the planning room we passed the county clerk's office and went down the stairs, left the administration building, and stepped out onto the town square. There was a second-story balcony where we could have flown out, but that would have left Reinhild behind. The square had a fountain, empty for winter, flanked by a pair of statues. One was a worn old stone carving of the Imperatrix who bowed her head in respect to a bronze figure of a weary Legionary.

The square was bordered on one side by the riverbank, and while there were a couple bridges arching over the sluggish flows of the Veltian, it was narrow enough that most could comfortably glide across.

It was an overcast day with a breeze coming from the west. "I think VioletBlood will be helpful in all this," Visha said as cawing blackbirds wheeled overhead, seemingly irked at having to share the sky with bundled up townies making brief flights.

I was not sure why they were so upset. Demons rarely hunted them, as killing the dark birds, much less eating them, was as sour as an omen could be. Even rambunctious broodlings too young to understand such truths were normally too clumsy in the air to catch a raven or a crow on the wing.

The corvids landed on the bare branches of a large sycamore tree in one corner of the square green. Under that tree was an empty set of stocks. There were no gallows, but that was because Eastern Province preferred the firing squad over the rope or beheading.

After being cooped up in the county building, my Zephyr rushed out and proceeded to explore, blowing around bare trees along the sidewalk, which set the birds squawking anew.

I gave my wingwoman a skeptical look. "LoveBlood isn't the most... diplomatic of people."

"Assuming diplomacy can remedy these events, Ma'am," Reinhild murmured.

I turned my gaze to the kitsune, eyeing her closely and not for the reason so many demons would. Only with the benefit of long familiarity could I still see the lingering anxiety buried behind her usual composure.

"You noticed their concern as well, did you?" It was more of an observation than a question, and as we stepped around a family coming out of a used bookstore the kitsune nodded her quiet assent. The passing family's two broodlings had scarves tied around their tails and knitted caps with holes for their horns. Personally, I thought it wasn't cold enough to justify being so wrapped up, and by their fidgeting, the broodlings agreed with me, but I also knew that most mothers would disagree.

"I would be more worried about the county to our south, but it isn't hard to see how fractured local opinion is here," Reinhild shrugged, the almost careless gesture she affected at odds with that lurking worry.

"VioletBlood's barony will probably remain calm," Visha asserted confidently. "With only a spur passing across the edge of the fiefdom, they have nothing to complain about and much to gain. And since the Baroness has every right to anticipate calm, she's offered to help you; besides, she knows the area like only a truly local member of the gentry can."

I gave my consort a rueful smile and looked up at the grey clouds. "I'm sure she'll pick my mind about today's meeting to fill out her cursed list... as long as the storm doesn't delay her from returning with her cousin. The roads between here and the Barony of Lilla aren't the best. At least my sister RedWing is taking the turnpike so she should arrive tonight without issue," I murmured as we walked.

"Surely either will call if they're running late? That is why you got a line installed." Visha offered.

"Hopefully," I agreed as we stepped around another bustling family accompanied by broodlings swaddled with equal thoroughness to the first. For a weekday, the center of town was fairly busy, with knots of people going about their business and the occasional lumber truck or cart lumbering down the street. This busyness didn't extend to the docks, which remained fairly idle, with only a single lumber barge moored in place as plank after freshly-sawn plank was loaded aboard its broad, flat deck.

"Shall I go rendezvous with Brabant and fetch the caravan?" offered Reinhild.

Once, not so long ago, I had talked down Pulivia for bringing a luxury motorcar with her to the capital, mocking the very idea that a cadet would have any use for such a vehicle. Now, I was the debatably proud owner of a fancy Mammon Motors extended touring car all my very own, complete with driver.

"We could get lunch," Visha offered, distracting me from my brief despair.

My tail flicked; now that Visha had mentioned it, I was a bit peckish. "Excellent idea. Where to?" I asked, looking around the town square. Brewers Street, where most of the wine bars and alehouses in Jopecott were, was close by.

"Maybe something warm and filling?" Visha asked as she adjusted her jacket.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Alexi mentioned there's a stew-shop near the town-green. It should be just a left at the intersection ahead and two streets over," said Visha happily.

"Well, lead on," I agreed. "That doesn't sound far."

"Nothing is far from anything here; Jopecott is a nice little town," Visha said as we stopped at the intersection. The wait was brief, and we quickly crossed smooth bricks underfoot.

We passed under the shadows of the tangle of overhead cables going into the brick edifice of the town's telegraph office. It was quite modern; they even had phone booths and provided an answering and forwarding service for both calls and text that used a group of receptionists and runners.

Reinhild's tails swished. "That's relative, Ma'am."

"The 'nice' or the 'little'?" I asked as we turned down a new street.

The maid gave a small shrug. "I'm sure this town is quite charming, but 'little' is relative."

I nodded as we passed by the town's "meat market" with its rooms that could be rented by the hour. The Market was a place where locals, mostly human and, mostly guild members, could earn a living, or supplement it, satiating the hungers of others. Provided, of course, they submitted to Provincial Food and Safety inspection and had their hours and clients logged. Clients also needed to be in good standing and could be blackballed if guild members complained. My personal issues with the institution aside, the regulations went both ways, giving some protection to both laborer and consumer. It was not like carnal commerce was something my species would turn their noses at.

And when it came to consuming life-force, I was hardly one to be squeamish over a consensual business transaction. And if there were issues... well, we were a rather litigious society, and, jokes aside, a House that had an abundance of demon lawyers seemed better than the alternative methods of adjudication. Though once one got past the county seat, I wondered how many conflicts were really settled by arbitrage, let alone courts. As a countess, my "court" docket was rather light, though who would want to submit their claim to the judgment of an absentee Legionary Flier?

Around the Market's front doors, people of various species were chatting on their smoke break. Some gave us appraising glances.

Visha simply returned the probing interest with a friendly wave while Reinhild gave the lordly disdainful sniff universal to servants borrowing their employer's authority.

"At the meeting, those townies thought that Bovitar was the 'big city'," I surmised as we waited to cross the street, trading smirks with my small entourage at the sheer provincialism.

"And you grew up thinking Silvana was the 'big city'?" Visha ventured, puncturing my enthusiasm only slightly as we stepped aside to let a Forest Person pass. Said Forest Person reminded me of Lares in the set of her face and scent; maybe a cousin of his? He was supposed to be arriving today, though, and perhaps I was just seeing his face in expectation.

"Yes, with all the impressions of power, decadence, and control inherent in the City of Trees. But here?" I gestured. "The imperial capital is a distant concern while the Provincial Governor and her assembly in Bovitar loom over the province, hence that's the 'big city'."

"Meanwhile the folks in the hamlets and communes out in the hollers and hinterlands of your county think Jopecott is 'the big city', Mistress," Reinhild concluded with perhaps just the slights brush of condescension, in the way only a professional servant could truly convey.

"Making them very suspicious of a one-horse burg that could fit inside a troopship, and not even the largest ones, with room left over for their tractors and livestock," I agreed, murmuring to keep from being overheard. "But... Perhaps they have reason to be suspicious of Jopecott for now; after all, this is where the people whose signatures the railroad needs to put their plans into action are, and those plans determine who will get their lands squeezed out." Eminent domain was a… complicated mechanism, especially for those who had traditional ancestral lands like the Forest People or Drow, but even a citizen freeholder could draw out the legal process if she so desired.

Despite the advances of the Fourth Epoch, much of Diyu's populace was still rural, and that was true even in the more developed provinces of House BlackSky. Eastern Province may be on the border region, but it was on two borders flush with trade and had reasonably rich and accessible land.

"Who's the local senator?" Visha asked in a tone that could have been mistaken for idle curiosity, as if she were still playing the role of a mere consort. "What's her role in this?"

"Everything from Switchbend all the way up to the northern border falls under Senator Plebian Claudia ViceWind. It's odd that she wasn't mentioned during any of the meetings. I didn't expect her to show up or even send an aide, but her claws should be all over this project," I mused as we neared what had to be our destination, at least from the growing delightful scents.

"Maybe she's been eclipsed by a higher up?" Visha ventured. "Like the Senator for the whole province or the Senator Domina for the Duchy."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Mother's pet senator is the one advocating for all this 'progress' in the Curia back in the capital," I exhaled, tail flicking. I knew the idea of a relaxing vacation would be a mirage, they always were, but I hadn't expected the headaches to come from my own mother.

But isn't this a good thing? The silken voice born of spreadsheets and charts whispered in my mind. This is your land, and you know its potential. Why not seize this chance to develop and improve the lives of these hearty folk?

Better you than some flunky of the railroad.

My two companions gave me questioning looks.

"I'm not against improving and expanding the transportation network," I said, defending myself against criticisms whose source was more likely between my ears than either Visha or Reinhild's mouths. "There's a lot of untapped potential in this county, but I can still have concerns about the implementation."

When neither spoke to chide me for my treachery against all I had once held dear, I huffed and stomped up to the threshold of the Woodhall Social Alehouse, trying to leave the voice of a man lifetimes away from me behind in my dust.

It was one thing to bootstrap this county into a more profitable, and hence more comfortable, retirement. I would hardly be squeamish if the development ended up costing a little coin or blood either; such was the price of progress. The problem lay in the fact that I sincerely doubted the exchange would play out as simply as a little pain and suffering now purchasing a great deal of luxury later. If I netted myself a tidy profit for myself in the short to mid term at the cost of the undying enmity of every stakeholder county-wide, what kind of retirement plan was I ensuring for myself out here? I had enough enemies in other Great Houses without adding more to my own backyard.

The alehouse was a three-story brick pile roofed in verdigris-greened copper and lined with tall arched windows. Unsurprisingly, the structure also served as a guildhall and exhibition piece for the local lumberjills, timbermen, and woodcutters. We walked down a short flight of stairs and ducked into the main room, where rows of well-polished wood tables stood below a surprisingly low ceiling. A bar constructed with massive gleaming planks beautifully varnished and polished stood to our left, while another set of stairs leading to the second story occupied the rightmost wall of the room. A few odd decorations were haphazardly scattered about the room, with a large stuffed bird with four legs mounted on the wall alongside a couple forest creatures I couldn't quite identify, and what might have been a turtle.

Peculiarly, my Zephyr seemed uncharacteristically quiescent after I entered the room.

We had scarcely crossed the threshold when the smells from the kitchens hit, and brought with them a full tsunami of nostalgia. I remembered wintry days at the orphanage, helping the nuns cut vegetables, pull down dried herbs and peppers, and hungrily watching as bundles of dry, canned, and sometimes fresh meat or fish stewed together in the iron bellies of the giant cauldrons.

Gumbo, stew, tagine, lobscouse, and any other filling and flavorful dishes that could be cheaply stewed in bulk were staple at the orphanage. They cost practically nothing and could usually be prepared from the sorts of long-lasting ingredients either commonly donated by parishioners or which were often on sale. Most of the seasonings, including herbs, peppers, garlic, and onions, were sourced from the gardens the nuns maintained, further cutting down costs. There were eggs, and occasionally, meat, from the chickens and ducks we kept. In fact, the only real concern so far as nutritional yield went was making sure there was enough life energy added to the pot; thankfully, the orphanage got plenty of military surplus sugar crystals, and with their fortification we really had little to worry about.

Altogether, they were the sorts of meals that stuck to the ribs and stuck in the memory. Calling it "comfort food" would be a gross overstatement, but in terms of pure familiarity… It was difficult to imagine anything that could quite match those cheap and hearty stews of yore, nor their contemporary cousins I could smell simmering in the kitchens.

"I guess I picked the right place," Visha remarked as I blinked out of my haze.

Reinhild had quietly moved to wipe the corner of my mouth with a handkerchief, which I ignored with lifetimes of practice pretending not to notice the many things I shouldn't, either for politeness sake, or for my own sanity. After all, staring at fresh recruits losing their lunch because they got their first taste of blood and gore on the battlefield was hardly becoming of a superior officer. The hall was smoky, both from the charcoal cook-tops and cigarillos many of the customers smoking.

The conversation momentarily quieted down as the locals appraised us, their tails flicking. We must have passed muster because, after that awkward moment, their chatter resumed as if we'd faded back into the wainscoting.

A green-haired waitress, in a pale uniform that looked uncomfortably close to a dirndl with its long skirt and cloth bodice, came up to us. "Three for lunch?" she asked hesitantly.

My eyes went to Visha. Did she pick this place for a Germanic connection? Or was the uniform just a coincidence? Bodices were very common here, and that apron did look practical instead of merely being a frilly accessory...

Visha smiled and answered for us. "Yes, for three, please."

Reinhild looked like she was about to protest.

But Visha gave the head maid no room to object, favoring her with the sunny expression of my old adjutant which, despite its warmth, brooked no dissent.

The kitsune curtsied in mute response.

The waitress' tail flicked. "Uh, yes of course. Ladies, please come this way."

We were seated at a table in a somewhat private alcove between some pillars by the windows. After taking our drink orders, the waitress left, her hooves clicking on the wood floor.

"Oh my, so many good things to pick from!" Visha happily exclaimed, flipping through the little menu pamphlet.

"Anything stand out?" I absently asked, paging through the broadsheets that had been piled under the window. There was the Bovitar Record and the shorter but more thumbed-through County Circular.

"Do you want fish?"

"There's seafood this far inland?"

"Well... I think it's preserved. You know, like canned shrimp or dried fish? Fresh is best but not everyone can be near the shore," Visha's shrug had the tiniest bit of disappointment, but nevertheless she handed me the menu, questionable seafood-sourcing be damned.

"No reason to use fresh-off-the-dock meat to be stewed in a big pot," Reinhild noted.

I nodded my agreement. "The seafood boil is tempting, and I could go for something a bit lighter..."

"We do have a big dinner planned for tonight," Visha unnecessarily reminded me as the waitress returned with our drinks.

"Receptions at a county manor…" Sighing, I leaned back and sipped my cider. "Just the kind of nonsense I expected to find out here."

"Industrial development is a part of noble intrigue, Ma'am," Reinhild diffidently reminded, whatever the cause for her worry insufficient to fully crack her maidly resolve.

"It's all so... What can I even do here? The townies are right. Come the new year I'll be back off-world on some new mission. It's not like the railroad will even be here by then." I stared out the window, noting the birds taking off from the heads of the refurbished golems and tractors in the lot next to the seed and dry goods store across the street. It was not the most positive augury, but crows are nice, industrious, and loyal birds despite what the ornithomancers might claim.

"You'll do what you always do: your best," Visha smiled. "I'll think I'll have the Jambalaya. I didn't expect to see that so far from the Curae Sea."

I gave a vague nod of agreement, but it was hard to focus on a meal. "Is my best enough? DarkStar's Blood! It's almost December, and we'll have to report back on the 12th of the New Year."

"Talk with those impacted by the route and see what their concerns are?" Visha suggested. "Tonight's party could be a good opportunity."

"At least to network with the bigger landholders," I sighed. "But we shouldn't make too much trouble at the party; the staff have been working hard on their proposals. I doubt they would take any perceived efforts to circumvent their influence kindly."

Giving a coy smile, Reinhild tilted her head in a slight bow.

"What are you getting?" I asked my head maid.

"Oh, I'm just having the venison chili, Ma'am. I have high hopes for it. According to the menu, it's got a bit of pork fatback stirred in to help with the flavor. That the cooks know to add additional fat is a good sign," Reinhild said, her tails happily swishing.

"Maybe I'll get the beef stew. It sounds hearty without being bland." I put the menu down. It may not have been the best choice, but it should be tasty enough.

"And you can ask for some sauce or spices," Visha happily said. "Just remember that you can always add more but you can't add less!"

"I do have a couple small bottles," Reinhild reminded.

I chuckled. Carrying condiments was an old Legion, and Auxilia, trick for the express purpose of making bland rations palatable.

The waitress slipped back up to us, diffidently took our orders, and refilled our drinks before vanishing again with a clicking of her hooves.

My tail swished as I looked out the window; the cloud cover was breaking up. "I guess I shouldn't complain. This is still better than being back out on the front."

The chattering from the rest of the diners grew; turning, I saw a woman in a green Forestry Services uniform with a shining badge and gleaming gun-belt approaching our table with a pair of broodlings who were trying very hard to contain themselves in tow.

"Ma'ams, I'm sorry for interrupting you but my girls are big fans." I noted the deputy's black hair was shorn down into a pixie cut as she removed her hat. The smaller of the two girls carried a very familiar blonde doll almost as large as her. Considering the degree of wear, it was obvious that the girl cared for the doll and probably carried it with her everywhere.

"Oh, it's no inconvenience." I gave an only half-forced smile. At least, this was a social procedure I could understand. Besides, if there was one place where my inflated reputation would make me famous, it would be in my very own county. "What're your names?" I asked, leaning forward to the two young girls; their eyes wide with excitement.

As I talked to two more customers of the Imperial Propaganda Machine, Visha chatted up the deputy. She always was good with people.

In regards to the broodlings, I promised that if they were good, I would give them some gifts for Saber's Watch. The deputy, weighing the implicit obligation attached to the boon against an opportunity to placate her children for the remainder of the holiday season, nodded to Visha. Reinhild was taking notes of addresses and gift ideas.

When the waitress returned with a tray containing a trio of mouth-watering bowls and a platter of sliced dark bread, the family made their goodbyes.

"That was fun. Oh, and this looks delicious!" Visha smiled as she surveyed her lunch. I must admit for using what had to be preserved seafood the jambalaya was very appealing.

"And networking with the local constabulary is always a wise move," Reinhild noted before tucking into her chili. She took out a small spice bottle and put it on a table.

I sopped up some of my stew with a slice of pumpernickel bread and gave it a thoughtful chew. Smiling, I shook my head, and the kitsune pocketed the bottle. "Good idea, picking this place, Visha," I said, taking a brief pause in my meal.

Conversation turned light, mostly about recreational plans. I was looking forward to catching up with Lares. Last I had heard, he was planning to arrive today or tomorrow, and he said he'd leave a message when he got in. For my money, the sooner he arrived the better: while I had planned to take the opportunity presented by his visit to present my mushroom farming ideas to his people, I could also press him to see if the proposed rail route would present any great impact on the Forest People. They were, after all, a stakeholder in the Larium County's future as well, just as much as the demons in Jopecott and the freeholds were.

"Pardon the interruption, my Lady," Mistress RainsFord Songstress drawled in her Midlands accent. The huntress strode up to our table, effortlessly imposing on our dinner. She wore a reasonably functional outfit of dark pants, dark purple leather gun-belt, grey knee-length coat over a corduroyed dark red vest, and tall leather boots, a rather more rugged outfit than conditions within the dining hall strictly required.

The pale-haired woman still wore that wide-brimmed black hat, complete with a fresh clutch of white roses.

"Yes? It's an unexpected surprise to see you here," I said, eyeing the woman. This confirmed what I had long suspected. Even on leave, I had no privacy.

"Again, apologies. A little birdie told me you were here." RainsFord laughed; nobody else joined her. "Sorry, I was just coming down for lunch and I saw you three."

I blinked in politely mute disbelief.

The huntress's pale purple lips went into a smile as she pointed upwards. "I have lodgings on the second floor, you see."

"And how are you finding the accommodations?" Visha asked, her tone warm and gregarious. It was only by having spent years in her company that I could feel the tension in her demeanor, a discordant note under all the sweetness like a loose hair stuck in a spoonful of honey. Reinhild, for her part, had gamely slipped unnoticed into the background, emphasizing her consummate wisdom.

"It's been quite relaxing," RainsFord blithely replied. If she'd noticed her chilly reception, it hadn't bothered her in the slightest. That itself was remarkably forward "Last time I blew through Larium County, I stayed at the Pelican Tap down on Tavern Square. This time, I found that instead of having live bands, they just got a shiny new juke! I couldn't get a wink of sleep with hours upon hours of soulless racket, so I decided to find someplace else to hang my hat."

"Hopefully you'll recapture your lost rest tonight," I said, politely wishing the huntress the pleasure of the evening provided she leave. Considering she was removing her hat even as I spoke, that didn't seem to be in the cards. "Please, if it's no trouble, take a seat," I offered, shifting gears and pointing to the open spot across from where Reinhild had been sitting.

"Thank you, Countess." RainsFord took the seat as I got the waitress's attention, who promptly took the huntress's order.

"What brings you back to the county?" Visha asked the white-haired woman.

"Doing a spot of work escorting the surveyors," the huntress explained. "These woods are pretty safe, especially this time of year, but you can't be too careful."

RainsFord's eyes went distant as she looked out the window.

The waitress slipped up and placed a tall glass of a dark amber beer in front of RainsFord and cleaned up Reinhild's empty bowl. "But it's not all guard duty. I did just take the eldest son of the local Drow matriarch out on a hunt that was most... agreeable, and it may have broken a logjam in the negotiations."

"Oh? What query did you hunt?" I asked.

"Oh, it depends," the demoness hunter sipped her beer. "Bears hibernate this time of year, but drakes are still hungry, or if you just want a moderately challenging hunt that gives some good bush meat, there's the Lesser Griffin. They like to roost up in big trees overlooking creeks and streams."

"I heard those are tasty," Visha remarked.

"Yes, but they can be a bit of a pain to pluck and clean," I countered.

"I can give a few pointers on that," RainsFord said, and gave me a sharp smile. "I would love to take you out for a hunt."

I put my spoon down and kept a neutral expression. There was something that made me apprehensive about this woman. "The idea is tempting; I have been considering such a trip out into the woods."

"I would be quite gratified to guide you through the process," the demoness hunter purred. "Most of the time I'm babysitting workers or well-heeled locals. Normally, I have to deal with folks who'll stumble into every branch, wear high heels into the forest, or won't know how to hold a rifle. But taking someone out who knows how to hunt? Well, that can be... gratifying."

I picked up my glass. "I'll consider it. LoveBlood did express some interest," I said, trying to deflect or at least delay the issue.

"Please keep what I can offer in mind, it would be a pleasure," the demoness hunter assured as she bowed her horns to Visha as her large tail swished. "And you of course."

Visha smiled at RainsFord while sending me a slightly apprehensive emotional pulse. Agreeing with her, I wondered if the huntress was hitting on me or had a... darker interest.

The demon huntress took a long pull on her beer. "Countess, you're not the first Imperial Heroine I've met. Many of you start out bloody-handed and you keep at it," she quietly said, her eyes going over Reinhild's empty seat. "But you've already got a hunting guide, no?"

"Miss SunShower is an invaluable member of my staff," I said, stiffly.

"Ah." RainsFord gave a sly smile, tail curling. "Pardon the forwardness my Lady, but it would be no great surprise if you have already partaken on exotic hunts."

I tilted my head. Did she know about Harp's World? Even the Church knew some of what had happened during that mission. Maybe this hunter heard a distorted rumor. Or maybe she's just guessing. But why make that guess? Did I really come off as so bloodthirsty? I thought as I eyed her flicking tail.

"Oh no, you're not some blood-soaked savage, Countess," the huntress laughed, before her voice going very quiet. "You wouldn't dump some peasant groggy from ether out into the woods, plug her in the back after she trips over a root, and call yourself a great hunter before celebrating with a feast."

"Yes, I can't see the Countess doing something like that," Visha stated with a ghost of a grin.

Huffing, I gave my wingwoman a miffed glare.

"I mean no offense, my Lady." RainsFord held up a placating hand. "I see that your... interests are already being met."

Visha managed not to snigger.

"Well, what exactly are you offering?" I clasped my hands. As much as this woman was disquieting, I wanted to figure out what she was doing in my county.

"A nice, relaxing hunt," RainsFord assured as she looked around the room. "We're all on the same team here, and I want to make sure things go smoothly between us."

"Smoothly?" I inquired. My paranoia raced on the kinds of things a markswoman and woodswalker could do to make things "smooth". And she's reaching out to you, the poisonous little voice whispered in my mind, it wouldn't be the first time a sellsword tried to find a murderous noble patron and you are someone who relished going through the woods, claws wet with blood.

"Making things run smoothly is my job," RainsFord assured before looking up as Reinhild curtsied to me and then took her chair.

A shadow then fell over the entire table.

"Lares, good to see you," I smiled, looking up at the giant, shaggy Forest Person. Bending a bit to keep his head from hitting the ceiling beams, the long tunic he wore belted at his waist only underlined just how out of his element the gigantic Auxilia scout looked in this hall built for demonic proportions.

"Countess, glad to see you're keeping well," Lares said, his deep voice polite, though he gave the demon huntress a mildly curious look. 'Ma'am."

RainsFord scanned the room. Following her gaze, I spotted Brabant by the bar. The white-haired kitsune was having a drink, her fluffy tail swishing. I tried not to pry, but I had a mild concern at my driver having an alcoholic beverage.

The huntress finished her beer and reached for her hat. "I've taken too much of your time, my Lady. I wouldn't want to keep you from your companions."

"Oh, it was no trouble, it was good to catch up," I lied with all the ease of a salaryman saying they were happy to work overtime to satisfy a client's inane request. It was a skill that overlapped disturbingly well with all the etiquette lessons I'd had to suffer through during my education on how to conduct myself like the noble lady I had become. "Allow me to talk with my Baroness and maybe we can arrange something," I said, the noncommittal polite boilerplate easily passing my lips despite my trepidation about the woman before me.

But then, by now throwing my life foolishly into danger with a smile I very much didn't feel firmly plastered across my lips was just another day at the office. I already knew I wasn't getting a real vacation out of this anyways.

"I am always your obedient servant, please don't hesitate to call upon me." The demon huntress bowed her horns before she stood and put her hat back on. "Thank you for the drink."

She then got up and went to the far end of the room and climbed up the stairs.

Lares looked down at the now empty chair and carefully tested it by putting a palm on the seat.

It immediately let out an ominous creek.

"Hmm," Lares frowned and let the chair be. His eyes flicked back the way the demon huntress left. "Know what that was about?"

"I have some suspicions, but not precisely, no," I admitted.

"Was afraid of that," he rumbled unhappily. "Don't take someone with my nose to smell trouble brewing…"

The waitress came over with a far sturdier and larger chair made of thick wooden poles. Comfortable with a piece of furniture that could support his weight, Lares's unease reduced as he sat down. "Ah, nice to see that they have some quality woodcraft here. Hrm... interesting times indeed. Think this all about the Railroad coming to the county?" his deep voice inquired.

Sighing, I lifted my glass in a mock salute. "More than the big two rail companies. There's Imperial and Provincial grants and support, and every landholder impacted is gonna get monthly rental payments which, for a lot of the locals, will be a comfortable sum. There's plenty of aurei at stake here."

The Forest Person gave a big sigh, the impact of the gesture even larger due to his great lungs. "And not just money..."

I nodded, taking his unspoken subtext. Family roots ran deep here, and there were plenty of factions and interests. If the railroad thought they could throw their weight around, then the locals were bound to push back.

"How was your trip back?" Visha asked, trying to brighten the mood.

"It was pleasant enough," Lares said with a slight smile as the waitress came to take his order. He seemed pleased with the menu options, or at least, not dissatisfied by them. "Not a bad place, good joinery on the beams and that bar top came from my aunt's red chestnut grove. Real nice piece, that."

Visha smiled. "I thought this place sounded nice."

Lares nodded to her. "I've still got to check in with the family, but I can make it tonight."

"Excellent," I smiled. "It's not the right season for it, but we can lay the groundwork for that mushroom harvesting idea."

"Well, I can make a few introductions." Lares slowly nodded his head and graciously accepted the mug of mead the waitress brought him. "But won't that be a distraction from all this... Railway business?"

I frowned while Reinhild's tails wagged and Visha tittered. "Oh Lares, this is how the Countess relaxes," my wingwoman assured.

A sigh passed my lips. "There's nothing wrong with planning your future. And what's wrong with some mushroom farming? Maybe I could expand my manor's orchard and do some fruit cultivation too. I'd like to have a job where there's no great consequence, no lives on the line."

Visha took my hand.

Lares nodded while the kitsune seemed sympathetic.

"But that's enough dreary talk. We have a dinner party to prepare for tonight. But more than that, we're on leave and should enjoy ourselves. Compared to active deployment this is still an improvement." I smiled, almost believing my words.

+++++

It was a bright winter day when I set about cleaning my chapel to Our Hallowed Lady. In no time at all, I had already filled a pair of dustbins with the stems and deadfall from the overgrown rose bushes overflowing from the gardens flanking the front door of the small stone building.

Even in their winter state, the barbs on the rose-canes were still sharp. After the first couple pricks, I had swapped to sturdier gloves and counted myself lucky that my current clothes had long, thick sleeves. The afternoon sky was a bright blue with just wisps of high clouds moving east, and the light wind bit with just enough chill to make me doubly thankful for my long, thick sleeves.

Freshly-greased prayer wheels clicked, and new, silvery pinwheels spun as I finished up the horticultural triage. The gardens were home to more than just the sullen, deeply entrenched rose bushes, though not for lack of trying from the thorny plants. My guess was that the gardens contained a large number of summer snapdragons and what looked like a million bells. Perhaps, because that estimate was based on the amount of dead leaves in the garden and that there were living, identically leafed, plants in the manor-house's greenhouse. Some similar, smaller flowers were out here in the garden, putting up a valiant rearguard action against the roses. I hoped to help their last stand in my own way.

I did not blame the groundskeeper for the garden's unruly state. Her staff was small and, between the orchards, the woods, and the gardens around the manor itself, they were struggling to keep everything alive and reasonably well maintained. The gamekeeper helped when she could, but she had her hands full with her own share of work around the estate, possums and other rodents the least of the nuisances keeping her time occupied. If nothing else, I certainly didn't begrudge any denarii I spent on them, tidying up like this was a tranquil moment of solace in my otherwise hectic and demanding life.

Stopping to inspect my work, I felt a chill as the wind picked up, stealing away the heat of physical activity, leaving only the cold sweat that work had produced to trickle down between my wings. Thankfully, I had reinforced the thickness of the coat I was wearing with just the slightest twist of my magic, so the discomfort was minimal, but… how did the wind always find some way to slip in like that?

Still, marginally effective wind-shield or not, cold sweat was cold sweat, and so I walked up the stone steps with just a bit more haste than I usually would and slipped through the door.

The chapel was a small building with only a single room, furnished mostly by a few rows of half-dusted pews. Piled neatly on one end of the rearmost pew were the broom, mop, rags, bucket, and wood polish that I had been using earlier in the day. It would have been trivial to simply order Reinhild or Frugi to have someone clean it and only slightly more difficult to corral my Vs to help, but... there was a reason I had waited until both of them had gone to town before setting my hands to this particular burden.

Besides, a bit of solitary manual labor gave me some relief from the demands of the Countess and the Centurion. The second of which had been more pressing in recent days, as Gibbs and her Ritualista had turned a long unused fruit cellar into a Ritual Plate crypt. Such a project required much support work, including running power down there, replacing the door, adding locks, and other security measures best left in my hands while Gibbs managed all the fiddly bits herself.

Doctrix RedWing had dropped hints that she would be happy to drop by and help check out my suit once all the components, including my long-overdue mask, had arrived. I had some sympathy with Gibbs's silent ire at the idea of some egghead poking around her suit, but I was loath to say no to my sister. Besides, Gibbs would inspect any work done on my Polyxo anyway, as a matter of course. LoveBlood even made the boisterous comment that this way Gibbs would be able to check my sister's ego with all errors she found in the Doctrix's wake. I had my doubts about how that would go, but my head Ritualista would have to be satisfied with that.

Oddly enough, from the thoughtful look that overtook her face when VioletBlood suggested it, I grimaced, I'm worried Gibbs just might.

It was only slightly warmer inside the chapel than out in the garden, thanks mostly to the heavy stone walls blunting the worst of the wind's teeth, but it couldn't remove the chill entirely. Several decades past, a previous Countess had installed a conduit connecting the chapel to the manor's boiler room for the purpose of piping hot air into the nave and defeating the cold lairing in the flagstones and carefully masoned walls. Unfortunately, age and deferred maintenance had taken their toll and the air ducts had clogged years ago, leaving the bone-aching cold the undefeated mistress of the outbuilding.

Doubly unfortunate, if the apologetic groundskeeper was to be believed, I had to choose between restoring the air duct to working order or repairing the chapel's slate roof. A decision mandated both by the thinness of the grounds' maintenance budget and the relative importance of the chapel. Keeping the manor house in order, or at least the appearance of it, ate up most of the caretaker budget, leaving outbuildings as a low priority. At least the springhouse was still in good shape, which meant we could drink our fill without worrying about contaminated water. The state of our other great necessity, reliable communications, was better than the state of the air ducts as well, but only because I could easily co-opt the old telegraph poles to hang a new phoneline from.

Standing in the hushed chamber of the austere chapel, I looked up at the open ceiling beams, long since gone dark with age. In the still, dusty air of the nave, the threadbare banners suspended from the beams hung gracelessly limp. Among that collection of faded relics, however, one banner was still stiffly new, colors vibrant and tassels undiminished by dust or spiderwebs. The beams themselves, though, and what little of the roof I could make out in the high eaves, seemed to be in good repair, free of leaks or internal cracks.

Chilly, but structurally sound, I concluded, deciding that the condition of the building and the plain altar indicated that my Seneschal and the preceding caretakers had made the right choice when it came to prioritizing repairs. Besides, there would scarcely have been any point in heating the room if all the warm air could escape out a damaged roof, now would there?

Gazing around the chapel again, I noted that the chapel had seen some level of recent use, even though the manor house had stood absent its mistress for years. Old dried garlands of white roses decorated the ornamental chancel rail delineating the sanctuary itself from the broader nave, and the altar that stood at the sanctuary's very heart. Newer wind chimes whose sleek, polished bells dripped with long, metallic prayer stripes flanked the altar, seeming almost eager to be sounded so the prayers of the faithful could rise upon their peals.

My tail swished as I strode forward between the pews and, acting on ingrained habit, knelt down at the chancel. Atop the altar stood a statue of DarkStar, gazing down at celebrant and congregant alike with a serene expression tinged by regret. In the morning, light would flood in through the simple stained-glass window behind her, leaving the idol silhouetted by the light of dawn, and by the large, four-pointed star and white roses that occupied the bulk of the window's design.

It was times like these that I preferred the sect I was raised in. Our Hallowed Lady was more temperate and our chapels were less prone to relying upon imagery of Her earthly suffering to inspire the awe of petitioners. Our Martyred Lady, one of our primary rivals, frequently and unsurprisingly highlighted Her Holy Wounds in their iconography.

Of course, these were only the more mainstream and relatively "moderate" chapters. The less said about the more fringe sects, the better.

Though considering how the least objectionable of said sects, Our Hallowed Lady, still had a militant order, avoiding the unfortunate topic of their existence altogether was unfortunately impossible. Made all the worse because, technically speaking, I met all the qualifications to be counted among their holy army. It would hardly be a difficult process should I choose to submit myself to their rule upon completion of my Legionary service and, I would assume, after sustaining multiple traumatic brain injuries.

Following the procedure I had learned as a novice, I fixed my eyes on the idol of the Martyred Lady, focusing my attention on her tranquil face, and then bowed my head in meek submission, grateful as always for my headdress keeping my hair from tumbling down into my face and ruining the entire posture. Head and horns lowered, eyes demurely fixed upon the flagstones before me, I clasped my hands.

"Blessed DarkStar, most Hallowed Daughter... Hail to your sacred name. Distant now, once you walked among us; we eagerly await your return. Your protective wings shelter us, Lady of the Endless Void, your hand soothes us. Be with us now, and in the hour of our end. In your sanctified name we pray..."

I harbored no illusion that I would receive an answer, but that was hardly the point. The act of the ritual, of reciting the forms and bowing in familiar genuflection, was a balm upon my nerves all its own. That solace from stress was the real benefit of the ritual, so far as I saw it.

This was, after all, supposed to be a vacation. I was all but obligated to discharge my stress in any way I deemed expeditiously prudent.

"Darkest Angel," I continued, appending my own conclusion where a confessor or superior would deliver a homily in the full manifestation of the rite but I was alone so needs must, "I clean your house to honor you and to honor my mother, who serves in your name. Please banish all evil from within these buildings, cleansing the spirit of this estate as I sweep its floors, and return all malignity back to the emptiness from whence it came."

My hands strained as I thought of what my other mother told me, of the difficulties my County was facing; hardships were there in those tangled roots, but also the potential for great opportunity. "By Your blessed spirit, and in chorus with those above and before, I make bold to ask your blessing. Be it so, should You will it."

The banners above fluttered, setting the sigils of the past Countesses of Larium to dance in the cold vaults above. Comfort nestled into my breast as I slowly rose from the unyielding flagstones. There was no great spiritual mystery in that warm sensation; it was just nostalgia, the memory of simpler times that brought that cozy fulfillment and… warmth.

I tilted my head – the warmth was not just metaphorical. There was sunlight on my back, dissipating the cool stillness of the chapel. The front door was open. How had I missed that? I turned, and my anxiety vanished as I saw the tall woman in the full raiment of a Sister of Our Hallowed Lady standing under the mantle.

Mother Clementia smiled.

In her red habit and immaculate vestments, she was practically radiant against the dusty gray of the old stonework. She almost seemed to carry a halo of her own, like a celestial messenger. Only the few locks of her purple hair escaping her headdress marred the picture of a perfect prelate and gestured towards the mortal within the priestly robes.

I looked to the altar, then down at my still-clasped hands, and finally at my own nun's habit. "Mother, I can..."

Tail swishing, Clementia made a one-woman procession down the aisle and closed with me. "You needn't feel guilt, oh gentle Daughter mine," she said, her light reproof accompanied with a proud smile tinged only lightly by something that could have been regret.

"I'm not..." My tail curled behind me as I exhaled. "I simply didn't expect you to come so early. You could have called."

"And ruin the surprise? The abbess gave me a couple more days off at the orphanage." My mother looked around the small chapel. "You have a lovely little chapel."

'"I'm still working on it." I blushed, a bit of pride in my voice. "Did you have any trouble getting up here?"

"It was fine," Mother assured.

"I wish you had told me," I repeated, mildly peeved. "I would have had someone drive down to pick you up; the rail terminus is very... hectic."

I had nearly used a stronger term there, but I didn't want to worry my mother. Besides, calling Switchbend dangerous wasn't quite accurate; it was just that the rail-head there was overflowing with sidings laden with equipment, crew, and construction as the rails ground ever northward. It would not be long before it was no longer the northern terminus and the whole process would be repeated, but until such time, it was really no place for a personage so dignified as my mother to be wandering around unattended.

"It was busy, but the bus was very prompt," Mother allowed, and she gave me a look that was half amused and half chiding, "You are allowing your worries to lead you by the horns, Daughter mine. Is this the attitude that won you such a prestigious place in our empress's legions?"

Tail flicking, I let it go; my mother could be a very stubborn woman. "How are the girls at the orphanage doing?"

"Good, good." Mother smiled down at me. "Your help is very appreciated."

"It's nothing."

She quirked her lip. "We both know that's not true. You are making a difference in the girl's lives. Your sponsorship alone has helped seven girls formerly of the orphanage find guild apprenticeships; four others have secured University at Bovitar scholarships for the same reason."

I looked away, embarrassment and pride mixing in my chest. Those numbers had increased since Mother had last written to me with an update. "That's excellent news. But that's just... well, money."

"Money is a tool," Mother scoffed. "Powerful and easy to misuse, but you have been using yours well. Like after you started seeing a psychologist you got one from Bovitar on retainer to help the girls."

"It... helped," I admitted. Pediatrics was one of the few non-trauma types of medicine Diyu demons needed, as such, the Sisters already had a pediatrician for the orphans.

"We're still on for me visiting before Saber's Watch? And my other idea?"

"You are always welcome," Clementia hugged me. "And yes, having the girls spend a part of the holiday season out in the country would be lovely."

Returning the hug, I relaxed. "Good. I'm sorry that it's such a mess in here."

Clementia looked at the dust and cleaning implements. "I can help."

"Oh no," I squirmed, turning my face sternly up at hers. "I won't impose on you. You will put your feet up, rest, and enjoy your vacation."

"Daughter, I have been cleaning chapels and churches for longer than you've been alive. It's really no imposition." The corner of her lip pulled up in a smile. "Besides, I know why you're doing this yourself."

I tried not to look nervous as the eddies of the conversation turned against me. "It wouldn't be proper to order a servant..."

"I'm not one of your servants." She picked up one of the cleaning rags and nodded to the altar. "In here, we both serve Her."

"I... would like your help," I admitted, not really referring to the chapel's disreputable state any longer. There were other corners of my demesne badly in need of my attention, most of which required far more than a simple sweeping to be set right. Most notably, the quite thorny issue my other mother had dropped in my lap the day I had arrived.

Not all regions of Eastern Province were equal. Bovitar and the Lethe River dominated the center of the province and were well developed with pastures, timbermills, and the like. The east was carpeted with steppes from whose rich soils seas of grain sprung and over whose border the balance of landbound trade with Luxon passed. The long coastline on the Gaudia Sea ensured the south of the province a year-round access to productive fisheries of lesser kraken, bream, and herring, ideal for both consumption and fertilizer production. Less glamorous but at least equally lucrative, the west of the province largely ran along the lesser Romwell Alps, whose mines and quarries provided both the mineral wealth as well as the literal building blocks required to further develop my province.

Meanwhile, the northern parts of Eastern Province had... potential. Potential that slumbered unrealized, at least for now. Not that the northern reaches had gone entirely neglected – there was a fair bit of development on the shoreline of Lacus Superum and along the border with House Andromache. The interior, however, including the region where both my county and VioletBlood's barony lay, remained a sleepy backwater. Except for the outbound line to Andromache, up which flatbeds trundled fully loaded under the weight of quarried blocks and trimmed tree-trunks, which hoppers bursting with anthracite, fine white sand, and finished goods from elsewhere in the empire rolled, and back down which cars laden with refined metal and foodstuffs rolled, we had been bypassed entirely by the major rail lines.

Until now, at least.

My Duchess had dumped the management of a gravely undeveloped county caught in the headlamps of rapid development thanks to the new railhead into my lap; Mother Clementia, on the other wing, only offered her help, no strings attached.

"Maybe you can tell me about how everyone's doing," I suggested, bidding for time to mull her offer over. "I would like to know who received those new scholarships and apprenticeships; perhaps we could start there?

Mother Clementia nodded and obligingly began to relate everything I'd missed back at the orphanage, including the food.

As we worked, I felt a twinge of melancholy. Not just at the number of residents in the orphanage, though at least there were not as many war orphans as when I was small, but also because a small, irrational part of me felt like I had abandoned Mother. It was a stupid thing to feel, especially since it was hardly like being a nun at an orphanage lacked its advantages; it was a very safe position, and one well away from the maw of war.

Perhaps I would not feel this way were I not wearing a damned wimple right now, I fumed in the privacy of my head.

Clothes, after all, made the proverbial woman, and uniforms had a curious way of tugging trains of thought away from their intended tracks.

My status as a novitiate already trapped me half in one world, half in another, introducing another degree of separation to the gulf that already stretched between me and all of my fellow orphans of war. Not that I had ever been particularly close to my peers back at the orphanage, but now that everyone my age or older had already been adopted or emancipated and all new arrivals were progressively younger strangers, it was difficult to not feel somewhat estranged from everybody I had once broken bread with.

I still visited the orphanage and had regular correspondence, but there was a difference between visiting broodlings as a legendary Imperial War Heroine and talking with someone who used the same bathroom and showers as me but was merely a couple grades down in the school-house.

Our conversation wasn't one-sided; I talked too, mostly about what I'd been through, and of the people in my care. Obviously I couldn't tell her everything, but Mother Clementia understood vows of secrecy.

I did tell her of the loss of IronTalon, though, and of VioletBlood's first command, and I updated her on the recovery of Lavish's sister and of half a dozen other things, each small on their own but, I hoped, enough to build a mosaic through which she could see the people of my command as I saw them.

"It is the nature of things," Clementia assured as she polished the last of the pews. "Change is inevitable. We may think ourselves immune to the passage of time, but that is the temptation of hubris. The world turns, and we turn with it."

I carefully drained the mop into the bucket. I had lifetimes of experience demonstrating just how much and how suddenly everything could change. "Yes, Mother."

She gave me that familiar old smile, slight and knowing. "You still act just like you did back when you were small and I found you with your hand in the sweets tin, my daughter. You still can't lie to save your life."

"I never stole cookies or candy," I stated, calmly and absolutely without pouting. "Your aspersions are untrue."

"True, but you did act like a red-clawed thief when I found you borrowing some extra teething rings!" Mother's eyes glinted. "Perhaps you simply look the same when you are startled as when you are guilty? After all… there is no reason the expression of your faith should give you cause to feel guilt, Daughter."

"I'm not-" I stopped myself. Why was I protesting? Had we not spent the last hour as mother and daughter?

"Tauria, you're the most faithful person I know. Your moral values are unshakable," Clementia said.

My tail flicked as I frowned. Memories of a past life came unbidden: Mary Sioux, her eyes burning gold with frothing hate, feverish madness, and fanatical zeal, bared her teeth at me in a death's-head grin, the last expression to ever cross her face. "I wouldn't say I'm anything... special."

"Dear, you have unshakable faith. We both know that doesn't require you to be a blinkered, unthinking flagellant." Mother gave a gentle laugh as if she found the very idea a jest. "When DarkStar returns, I fully expect to see you greeting her with a list of doctrinal questions in hand and a request that she fully clarify the fullness of her Word upon your lips."

At her light jab, I finally allowed myself a chuckle. "Maybe I should get to writing those questions then."

Her eyes sparkled. "So you've heard the rumors too, then."

"There's always rumors about Her return," I hedged, eyes darted to the altar. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything.."

"Best not to get our hopes up," Mother nodded amiably. "The signs and auspices may be positive, but such things wax and wane. This could be another such cycle come and gone."

"She will return when it is Her time," I stated by rote. It seemed like the safe answer.

"Have you attempted any divinations on your own? Seen any signs of Her arrival on your travels, perhaps?" Mother's question was so mild it took me a moment to realize the import.

"I would never..." I protested, my tongue tying as I struggled to avoid loosing any secrets from it, my sworn oaths suddenly tight and constricting.

Mother tsk'ed and went to pick up the wooden fruit crate that she had left by the door. "Daughter, I know you are humble, but you downplay the impact you had on the success of your mission."

"There's not much I can say," I said, stiffly. "For various reasons."

"The chaplain to the HFV DarkStar wrote me a very interesting letter. One co-signed by the skipper of that august ship." Mother held up a forestalling hand. "The letter was very circumspect about the operational details, but the theological implications... Why, it might not even be overly presumptuous to say that moment was… miraculous."

"It would be…" I licked my lips, carefully looking for the right words, "prideful to assert that I summoned a battlecruiser. Some would say arrogant, even, to see auspicious signs and holy purpose where they might be merely…coincidence."

Mother's smile brightened the whole chapel. "Oh yes, it may be a coincidence, but some of the most learned women I know are not so sure. I know little of ship navigation myself, and I would expect such caution from you. The abbess and some other significant figures have taken notice, though, Daughter. I thought you might like to know."

Tail curling with apprehension, I found my curiosity growing. "Then what's in the box?"

"Just a few items to help fill out the chapel. It will open for service for the visiting orphans," Mother explained, pulling out a pile of hymnals tied with ribbon, incense, and a well-worn, well-loved Book of DarkStar.

My relief was evident. "That's a lovely gift."

Mother's smile grew, showing her teeth. "Oh, this is all just from me. There are also some divination tools a very helpful kitsune-woman is tucking away in your bedroom, waiting for you."

Now that made sense. A set of hexagrams, a fan, or even a ritual knife, if owned by the correct Church notable, would be another artifact the church could bestow on one such as me. Or maybe it was a journal of some saint on the interpretation of her dreams, visions, or even the birds she had seen and their meanings.

I tilted my head. "The gift from the Church isn't divination tools?" I asked, anxiety curdling to dread in my stomach.

Mother shook her head sadly. "It's small at least, and the custodianship shouldn't be that much more of a burden on you." Out of the crate that had been used to ship plums came a small lacquered box.

I took it with trembling hands. "There's no ritual for this?"

"We're in a house of DarkStar," Mother stated, then gave a tiny sigh. "There will be a more formal ceremony on Saber's Watch. Your suit should be done by then."

I frowned at that comment, but I had complained to her about the delays in my new Polyxo often enough that her mention of it didn't raise any red flags. Opening the box, I found a velvet liner, and, nestled inside, a tiny, dented silver censer. The strawberry sized ball was holed with star-shaped perforations and crowned with a clasp worked around a single red crystal.

My Zephyr immediately swirled around me, not quite blowing the box out of my hands. I had thought I had given them enough distractions to keep the air spirits tired out today, but their attention and energy spiked like puppies awaking from a nap to clumsily galumph about.

"This can't be...."

"Hers?" Mother shook her head. "No. But it was at Operation Sandalwood at the end of the Third Great House War, it was there when the War of Reprisal ended in the ashes of the Empty Quarter at the close of the Third Epoch. It's one of the last of a set made during the Golden Times."

I stared. That was a period of peace and revitalization nearly two millennia ago. This small bauble was as old as House RedStorm. "I... don't know what to say."

Mother's smile grew. "That's just the history, little one. It is said that when these censers were made with a fragment of Lilith's Blade, melted down along with the silver."

I raised an eyebrow. "A fragment with her daughter's blood? With Her blood?"

"The blade was lost to history not long after the Lantia Succession War," Mother pointed out, no trace of humor in her voice. "It is possible, if perhaps... unlikely. Or... providential."

I barely managed to restrain the creeping hysteria from the tiny laugh that escaped my lips. Hopefully mother would take that as me laughing at her pun. "So I'm in high enough esteem to have a potential relic of Her, but not one that is fully validated and vetted? Will the wonders of the Church ever cease?"

Mother's tail slowed, as I carefully put the box down on the pew and moved to hug her. My wings wrapped around her body. "Let others have the wondrous artifacts. Even without the legends it's wonderful."

Clementia returned the hug. "I was worried you'd be overwhelmed. I worry..."

"Oh!" I barked a laugh that wasn't quite so restrained in its hysterics, "I'd say I'm more than overwhelmed at this point."

Worry flittered across Mother's face before she managed to conceal it.

Not that I could blame her.

Between the absolute clusterfuck that had unfolded, and the even larger clusterfuck that had so nearly unfolded on Harp's World, not to mention the far too close encounter with the Fae, my other mother dumping the whole mess of the railroad business onto me… A sudden appointment to serve as the custodian for a relic of DarkStar herself only seemed like the natural next step on the road to some private hell.

"That is understandable." Mother's tail flicked. "You have more than enough to worry about. But I know you, and no matter what, I'm proud of you and know you'll do the right thing."

I frowned. She was agreeing with me, but it sounded like there was... more to it.

Her smile then became reassuring and I felt guilty for doubting my mother.

"But you said it yourself, I didn't get where I am in the Imperatrix's Legions for nothing." I shrugged. "I've dealt with stress before."

"Besides," I allowed myself a grin, "the uncertainty isn't that bad; I'll simply ask DarkStar to verify it Herself."

End Chapter 34

At least Tauria's settling in and starting to learn about her county and meet its citizens.

Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter And Special thanks once again to ScarletFox for once again coming up with a chapter title.

Sorry for the delay there were a few personal issues, including a family emergency, that had things go on the back burner for a while. And thanks again to my editors for helping get this chapter edited.

In good news, chapter 35 is written with its draft being edited right now. And chapter 36 has 9 thousand words written, so should be nearly done as well.

More good news, I've also got half a dozen art pieces to be posted ( including ones of the Lady from the Railroad, Miss Crow, and Mistress RainsFord, not to mention Milly and IronTalon, and some fun gowns and Elenese fashion) I also have a handful of new Legionary ground vehicle designs.

All that art and the upcoming chapters are on the Little Demon discord.

Have a spooky Halloween!