RogueInquisitor
Unexpected!
So, Maaria has human-like feet, rather than hooves, but what about her wings? Are they feathered or bat-like? Whag colour are they? Also her horns - what style are they?
The War Chronicles of a Little Demon (Youjo Senki alt)
- Thread starter Sunshine
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- USA
Hehehe, bat-like, and are red like her tail. I see her horns as being fairly large, and sticking out sort of longhorn style
Omake: Knight Sirens Ch1
Ellf
Apprentice Wizard
- Location
- Virginia
So, this is the start of a multi-chapter future-set sidestory that may or may not be canon, kind of up to Sunny here. This stars a pair of other Diyu demons.
Without further ado,
Go faster, sis. We need to outrun them. I sent over our telepathic link as I weaved through the trees in an attempt to ditch our pursuers. We would have used our suit comms, but our telepathy was far more secure. Trees to my right, trees to the left, and above, my older sister in a similar rig, matching my speed. Her wings stretched as wide as mine did as we jetted through the forest, our zephyrs pushing themselves to their limits. I checked the sensors, and there were even more closing in on our position.
Outrun them? They've got us surrounded, Frost. It's a plague. Her worry rippled through our link, and there was a growl to her 'voice' that I could hear. I worried too. The suits we were in weren't equipped for combat, especially not with an unknown enemy force. Whatever these things were, they seemed to be nothing but rage and something far, far worse. Normally, emotions are easy to identify. Everything feels something that maps to a normal emotive spectrum except for those beings that are really just wrong. There really were only so many ways emotions could be configured in a living being. But whatever these things were, their emotions had been stripped bare, leaving just what we felt. I couldn't even begin to guess what that worse thing was, save for what I felt at the pit of my stomach.
I've got an idea. I tucked my body in, pulling my feathered wings around me, even encased by the suit's enhancements, and I dug my clawed toes into one of the trees, slowing almost instantly to a stop. This maneuver hurt, even with the zephyrs helping dampen the stop, but it was necessary to be able to pull off any sort of win here. Sure, the custom suit had its upsides, but I knew the ritualista would be upset with me when I returned for dinging up their (my) suit. We can't run, BlackFire. You know it. We can't hide. Given our lack of onboard weapons, fighting them is probably suicidal. There's only one option.
Where are you going with this? My sister peeled off her flight and perched on a branch near me as we looked upon the cloud of creatures approaching. They were demons, certainly, yet not of a rival House. They weren't from Diyu at all, really, and nothing in my education or training covered what they might be. They were masculine with mouths full of sharp fangs, unburdened by lips. Within their gaping maws, a glowing orange light nested. Their eyes were bulbous, sticking out the sides of their head.
We jump, I sent. There was only one real option. These suits were too valuable to let fall into any sort of enemy hands, and I didn't want to make a sacrifice play. We needed to leave this area, get away from the demonic swarm. I can hold them off while you get the way open. Hurry.
We're nowhere near our rendezvous point, Frost. We have no clue where we'll end up.
Anywhere is better than here. I drew my sword with my left hand, and I gathered my power in my right. Cold, dark shadows coalesced around my claws, and underneath my visor, I bared my teeth. These things had no clue what they were about to face. We were a species that was constantly underestimated. I switched to vocalizing aloud. "Hey! You demonic pretenders! Come and get me, if you dare!"
I was unsure if they understood me, so I took advantage of the linguistics training I took over the past few years in Fleet, and I repeated myself in four other languages. I must have hit something that they knew, or they just decided on their own, because they started spiraling down toward me. I flourished my blade in anticipation. Whatever these things were, they were going to bleed. They were going to die. As my sister prepped the jump portal, I adjusted the sensory suite to record. I'd be fine because of her. My Zephyrs practically sang in anticipation of what was coming.
"Come on!"
The first demon dive-bombed me, and I pushed off the tree, swiveling around so I could slash at it with my blade, Shiro. Most pilots don't bother wearing a blade, but my sister and I both carried. Most pilots never even considered them necessary, but this was one of the situations where carrying them was right. The holy sword sliced through the demon's body, leaving a trail of green fire and spewing ichor. I bared my fangs, and followed up with a slash of my claws toward the next demon. Unlike many of my Fleetmates, my flames didn't burn. They froze. They sprung forth from icy shadows, and they sprung forth from the tip of Shiro as I swung him. I unleashed a wave of fire, ice and shadow onto the first group of creatures, igniting several, but more were on their way.
"Any time now," I said, curling my right talons and dragging more shadows out toward them. "I'm not sure how long I can keep this up…"
"Nag, nag, little sister," said BlackFire. "There's protocols for this sort of thing. You know them. You've memorized them. We could end up anywhere."
"Better than here," I said, unleashing another burst of ice and shadow, following with a cutting blast from Shiro. This was far more draining than if the Ritual Plate had their weaponry built-in. Just because we'd been trained to fight without the suits didn't mean we liked doing it. I jumped at another demon, driving Shiro into its bulbous eye, and then I kicked it. "Better than being swarmed by these things."
"Could end up swarmed by something else," she said, but her power surged. Magic, our kind of magic, was very will-based, and we studied to perfect it.
I brought my free hand to join my left at Shiro's hilt, and I sneered as I gathered shadows and ice. The zephyrs in my armor trilled, clearly interested in what I was about to do, and I didn't dare to disappoint. I seeded the sky with my shadows, cold, and I drew the heat from below, creating differing charged air. Physics took hold.
One of the demons seemed to yell something almost intelligible, but it didn't finish as lightning struck my sword, then got redirected toward it. A wave of electric energy, wrapped in my icy flames, slammed into several approaching demons. It knocked many of them from the sky with frozen over or paralyzed wings, but the cloud of them only got darker. More lightning struck above as they swarmed.
I landed next to my sister, panting, resting a hand against the trunk of the tree. That had taken a lot out of me. "Get it open now! I don't like our odds against a million of those things."
"The protocols…"
"Bypass them," I said. "We can't let them get these suits." Or us.
"Fine, got it," BlackFire said, and she drove her claws into the air, and she pulled a portal open. This wasn't the normal Fleet jump style, but we didn't have time for doing those calculations manually. A cylindrical opening formed in reality, slowly taking the shape of a door-sized portal. We saw buildings on the other side, skyscrapers, and it had to be better than here. "Go, now, FrostShadow. I can't keep holding it open. There's something on the other side, blocking."
"You need to come with," I said.
"Always," she said, and I pushed off the branch after letting off a final blast of icy shadows. This one was more to obscure us than deal any damage. I dove through the portal, closely followed by my older sister, each of us uncaring of what would be found on the other side. Whatever it was, it was better than here.
**********************************
Cities are rarely completely dark, even at night. Silvana, the city we grew up in, is no exception, even with the exceptional night vision of the majority of its residents. The city that my sister and I ended up in on the other side of the jump portal, however, seemed dark even with our night vision. It was uninviting, like the city itself didn't want you there, nor did it care how you would leave. The lights that were there glared angrily down on the street corners, their rage-filled gaze causing them to flicker like an out-of-control disco ball. Too many were out, as it were, and the dark streets felt off, even from as high up as we were.
The buildings were extremely gothic in design with some art deco, even for a city designed by humans. For this city certainly was designed by humans, given the sheer soullessness of some of its construction. It simultaneously resembled buildings we'd seen in versions of New York, Chicago, and Toronto all at once. Wherever we were, obviously was none of those cities. BlackFire and I flew over the rooftops, taking the scrying intake with our Gorgon Rigs, looking for anything familiar. The city's darkness was oppressive, and it almost seemed to be there in the composited maps we were building up . There was an aura that the city held, one of rage, fear, and a lack of sanity, with only a hint of light fighting back the darkness. The two of us were far from home, yet something about this place was familiar.
None of those demons that had been chasing us had managed to follow through BlackFire's portal, and there wasn't anything that shared that sort of signature anywhere nearby. There was something to the north side of the city, an area that read as high in magic relating to death, and there were certainly humans capable of using magic within the city. We circled one of the taller buildings twice, keeping our Veils up to put us out of sight of any visible watchers or cameras that were picked up by our rigs, and then we landed on the building's rooftop. Well, to be more accurate, BlackFire landed on the rooftop, and I took up residence on the edge of the building, perching next to a stone gargoyle.
Something about this city seemed deeply familiar, though I knew that none of the Earths that BlackFire and I had been to with the Fleet had a city like this. At least, we hadn't been to the city like this.
"So, we landed on an Earth," BlackFire said as she walked up behind me. "I don't think we've been to this one before."
I shrugged and I swapped to a more mundane mode on my Gorgon Rig's scrying. Someone on the development team had suggested expanding the radio signals we could pick up and the processing modes would be useful for any infiltration force, and our Ritualista had agreed to make those modifications. We did have plenty of examples of various "earth standard" broadcast protocols. s. I was able to identify several broadcast radio signals, each overlapping on my helmet's interface, but I hadn't chosen to isolate any of them. I was tempted to look beyond the shielding that my suit and training provided for my empathy and unleash it on the city, but… Even through the shields, I could feel it. "This is an English-speaking city, or at least a language that is close to it. And… well, there's something… the people…"
"They're scared, angry or both," BlackFire said. "I feel it too, Frost. Something is wrong here, and I can't even figure out what. This city's got issues."
"Issues on top of issues," I said, looking out over the city. A spotlight from a nearby roof drew my eye to the sky, and I blinked. "That… might be a clue of sorts."
"What do you..?" BlackFire followed my pointing finger. "Oh. Are we sure that someone's not celebrating something?"
"Or filming something?" I shrugged. The searchlight in the sky shone brightly, projecting an image of a familiar symbol, one all too familiar. In Cadet School, someone had snuck in some translated comic books imported from one or two Earths, and our whole Flight ended up doing a few movie nights with subtitles regarding this very item. We even managed to find a smaller opera house in Silvana that was running a production, though they had taken a few liberties with the localization; for one, male ballet dancers were a hot commodity. The symbol had two prongs for the ears and spread wings in black upon the lit background. "... I'm not sure how it's possible, but I think we're in Gotham city."
"The between is supposed to connect to many different Earths, in addition to Diyu, but…" BlackFire shook her head. "I didn't think this would be possible. The Catographer's Guild will want to talk with us when we get back. There's worse places we could have ended up, and worse times. Imagine us showing up in Metropolis, fresh from that portal. In daylight."
We wouldn't have had time to camouflage. Here, we did, but by being on the roof and not being out in public, we didn't outright need to. Not yet, anyway.
"I am less worried about the big guy than some of his villains," I said. Then I cocked my head. My Gorgon Rig alerted me to two signals approaching from upwind moving fast up the side of the building. Humans, determined ones, moving quicker than normal. Clearly, they were using tools. The two pulled over the side of the building, landing on the roof, and their smell wafted over on the breeze. Some of it was tied to their emotional state as well. The rig detected several weapons on their persons along with analyzing one to be older, maybe between early adulthood and middle age, while the younger was a teenager. Both were determined people, and the younger felt… giddy? Interesting. Company.
I know, Frost. I got them detected too. The two of us turned toward them, each grinning under our helmets. It wasn't every day that you got to meet genuine superheroes. Not that they'd be able to see our grins behind our closed helms.
Two dark figures slipped from within the shadows, and even with the good night vision we had, it was tough to make them out or get a good look at them until they were completely in view. The Gorgon Rig in our suits kept us aware of where they were the entire time, but they were very good at using the shadows to hide their approach. When we finally got a good look at them, it took nearly all my willpower to not make a gleeful noise. I had read many an imported book about this pair and seen a few films.
Batman was almost required reading in our first flight in the Household Fleet. I blamed our first Primus Centurion for that, primarily. All the movies and drawings couldn't compare to the human in front of us. Batman was taller than my sister, even without counting the pointed ears in the cowl that hid his eyes so well. He felt like he towered over me. His suit was gray and armored with a black bat sigil over his chest, yet there was no yellow background to it. He also had his utility belt on his waist along with a long black cape that draped down his back.
His companion was Nightwing, surprisingly. He wore a black bat-shaped domino mask to cover his eyes, and he wore a black suit with a blue bird sigil on the front. He was younger than I expected, barely looking older than me, far younger than I would have expected him to be if he was wearing that costume.
"Well, that's a new sight," Nightwing said in English as he approached. He stuck close to Batman, even if we could tell he felt the urge to do something more. "I almost wish KF were here. I'm sure he'd make some interesting comments about the two of you ladies. You are ladies, correct?"
KF? Huh. I wondered if that was short for Kid Flash. Maybe a teammate from when he was on the Titans? It had been some time since I'd managed to acquire any comics with Nightwing in them. They were all imports and thus a bit expensive. He certainly looked somewhere between BlackFire and I in age, but he could have been younger than me.
I cocked my head to the side, and my tail swished behind me. English was not one of my strong languages. It could get confusing at times. Especially with contractions. "One would think that someone who studies under a person that dresses up like a bat to fight crime would have little room to judge."
"Who are you?" Batman's voice came out a little on the rougher side, like he was pitching his natural voice down a little. However, he wasn't using any technology to change it. Likely he used a different persona when he was out of the costume to better differentiate himself from his costumed self. He didn't sound angry, and a bit of suspicious curiosity came off his emotional aura, even if it didn't appear in his voice.
"I'm BlackFire," my sister said, and then she gestured to me. "And this is my little sister, FrostShadow."
"And you are the Batman and the Nightwing, caped crusaders," I said. "I am certain that you have far better things to deal with this evening than us."
"Perhaps," Batman said, and despite his eyes being covered, I got the feeling that he was looking us over. It was a little uncomfortable for us to be unable to meet our eyes, but who knew what we'd end up seeing? "You are costumed and in Gotham, and you're new. For what purpose?"
I frowned under my helmet. With the faceplate down, he wouldn't be able to see my face, but I made sure to keep my tail still. "It was not our intention to come to this city. We were testing some new equipment, mapping some new travel routes and overshot our destination."
"We intend no harm to anyone in this city, Batman," BlackFire said. "As my sister said, we had no intention to even come here. We knew of this city, but we had not ever planned on coming here."
Mostly because we didn't know that it actually existed on an Earth somewhere. Most of the Earths we had interacted with simply had this as a comic book. It was curious. I was not looking forward to the debriefings where our suit's logs would be dissected.
Batman studied us for a second, and it felt similar to being looked at by a Tribune. It was all I could do to not preen under the gaze, to try and make myself seem even more approachable. Was it wrong to want to look good for a superhero like this one? He had a presence to him that was just raw intimidation, and even knowing he was completely human, I had no doubts that he would stand strong against anything thrown at him.
In reality, he would be a very good one of us, were it to happen. Maybe that little opera wasn't so outlandish.
"And just what were your plans for the equipment?"
"In the most generic of terms, transfer the data to the research teams, who would then translate it into upgrades for future production models," BlackFire said. "The production models would then be used to protect our people and the interests of our state."
Batman nodded, and then he frowned. My sister and I tilted our heads slightly. Our hearing is far better than that of humanity, not to mention our Gorgon Rigs had audio processing in addition to the other intakes, so we could hear the voice in his ear. An older man with an English accent was speaking over the crackling radio.
"Sir, Commissioner Gordon is waiting. It's the Joker, sir," said the voice that could only be the Wayne family butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Involuntarily, I shuddered. Of course, if we were in Gotham City with Batman and Nightwing in front of us, the Clown Prince of Crime was real too. As fun as reading about his escapades could be, the idea of a real Joker did not sit well with me.
"Hey, the two of you all right?" Nightwing asked. He gave us a grin, showing his fangs a little. Teeth. Not fangs. Humans didn't have any. "You look a little discombobulated right now." He suddenly turned contemplative. "I'm going to need you to get nice and combobulated."
"... What does that even mean?" I asked. "Is that a real word?"
"No, Frost, it isn't," BlackFire said. "It's not a thing."
"Is so," Nightwing said with an even smugger grin. "I just made it one."
"Enough," Batman said. "Nightwing, head toward the police station. BlackFire, FrostShadow, I assume you can fly in those things?'
"Yes," we said in unison.
"Good," Batman said. "We can continue our conversation later, but in the meantime, I want you to follow us. Stay back and away. Jim doesn't need to know about you yet, and I have more questions. However, the Joker needs to be stopped."
He didn't give us a chance to respond. He simply ran and jumped off the building, his cape fluttering in the wind, and Nightwing followed him. Mere seconds later, we heard shots fire, and as we looked over the building, we saw the two Caped Crusaders each swinging along a grappling line. Impressive.
"They certainly seemed human," BlackFire said, returning to our native tongue. "But then they go and do something like that."
I shrugged. "They're heroes. Peak human condition, right? Imagine if they were like us."
BlackFire's tail swished, and she spun up her RP. I did the same, and we flew off after them. This time, instead of going overtop of the buildings, we flew between them, keeping just enough distance back that we could follow Batman and NIghtwing as they moved.
It was interesting. Batman's movement seemed to be the most like a Diyu demon not wearing any sort of RP. He spent half of his time between swings using his cape to glide. He hung on the air about as well as the average one of us. His cape behaved a lot more like my sister's wings.
Nightwing, on the other hand, did far more acrobatics in his movement. He would push off the buildings, grab onto handrails and swing, but even he had some wingsuit properties to his costume, some webbing between his arms and his legs that only seemed to appear when it caught the air. It was truly an interesting sight to watch.
I made sure that I was getting as much information as I could with my Gorgon Rig, while also taking advantage of my suit's feeding options. I was still hungry after expending that energy against those demons that existed between.
The two of them landed on the edge of the police station roof, and my sister and I hovered over a nearby building. We could hear the people on that roof quite clearly. Something seemed off about one of the men, a suited one wearing a hat,, but I couldn't tell from this angle. I started running some scrying with the Gorgon Rig on him.
"Gordon, we're here," Batman said. "What's going on?"
"It's the Joker, Batman," said an older man's voice, but while the voice came from the man that drew my attention, it didn't come from his mouth. It came from something in his pocket, a tape recorder? His hands were in there, manipulating something. His companions seemed nervous, but they were looking down.
"I've been informed," said Batman, stepping closer to the man. His hands were at his belt, and at this distance, I got a feeling of resignation off of him. Had he realized something was off about the older man as well? "Where is he?"
"I'm surprised, Bats, truly I am," said the man, his voice different this time. This was his voice, and as he turned, my sister and I tensed. The man had a white face, almost the pallor some Diyu demons had, green hair, yellowed eyes, and for some reason a painted-on grin that looked anything but happy. This was the Joker, and what I felt from him was a sense of murderous glee. "You're usually much quicker on the uptake than this."
It was surprising how quickly Batman made it across the rooftop to lift Joker by his lapels. "I already asked you once, Joker. Where. Is. He? Where's Gordon?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about old Jim," Joker siad. "You'd be better off worrying about your not-so-little sidekick anymore. What was his name again? Some little bird? It's a Thursday, after all, and I wouldn't want him to take ill."
The Joker let off a maniacal laugh, and warnings blared on my sensors. A large source of necromantic energy was detected, and a large meaty fist reached up through the building's roof to grab Nightwing. How? How had that thing managed to stay hidden so well until now? Yes, we hadn't been scrying specifically for it, but surely we would have felt… oh.
Emotion is more or less a universal thing to an empath. Emotions, for most beings, all come down to feeling the same way. Joy feels like joy, sadness like sadness, arousal like arousal, no matter the species. I've met spirits, demons, humans, and many other things in between, and each of them have had the same basis for their emotions. They just had ever so slightly different flavors, if you will. It's not usual that anyone can surprise us with feelings that far out of the norm, and it usually came from those either severely impaired with drug use or with minds so alien that their feelings are more color than anything else. I swear, once I met a being who quite literally felt purple, of all things.
This thing. This massive undead creature, had feelings so dull that they faded to background noise. If it had any sort of actual feeling to it, it was muffled by everything, by the fact that it was already dead. A zombie, of sorts.
"Born on a Monday… Christened on Tuesday…" Joker laughed again. "Say hello to Solomon Grundy!"
Grundy roared, and my sister and I had already taken to the air. Batman tossed some sort of explosive at the arm that held Nightwing just as electricity arced across the arm. Nightwing must have had some sort of electrical prod. The hand spasmed, dropping NIghtwing, who rolled away before the explosives struck. The resultant explosion blew the hulking zombie off the roof and slamming him into a wall.
As the smoke cleared, Solomon Grundy became visible, and my sister and I scanned him with our Gorgon Rigs. Targeting data came up on the display which was helpful but utterly useless at the moment. Gray skin, two and a half meters tall, and made entirely of coiled muscle. There were parts rotting within him, held together by some sort of necromantic energies that were both magical and nonmagical. Confusing, to say the least. He had white hair, wore a torn suit jacket and trousers cut off at the knees. It reminded me of the poem, which my mother had read to me when I was little.
I shook my head. Joker had even quoted it and referenced a later line in the nursery rhyme.
We should help, I sent my sister. What I got back from her was an irritated feeling coupled with some sarcasm.
Of course, the Ritual Plate we wore were test suits. Which meant that they were unarmed. Normally, in Ritual Plate combat, we would use our weapons and attack from range, taking out whatever unlucky enemy failed to dodge out of the way of the attack. There rarely was any sort of reason to get up close and personal. We were Fleet Pilots, not infantry. The Imperial Legions had their ground pounders, we were Fleet. However, after a Legionary Flier Countess had the unlucky experience of being forced to fight in an unarmed Ritual Plate a few years back, the Fleet added some trainings on what to do if you were in a situation where either your weapons were disabled or you were flying an unarmed suit. And that was after the Legions had put in their own program.
Pilots were often better prepared than they thought. Given the magical talent necessary to even be able to operate the suit's systems and their air spirits, Pilots could often repurpose some of that power for other reasons. The Verutum launcher was a prime example of a weapon system that used more of a Pilot's magical skills.
My sister and I were on the higher end of that aptitude curve, so we had offensive spells to back up additional physical activities, as we demonstrated on those additional demons earlier. They just lacked the range and dedicated power that the normal weaponry would have on a Ritual Plate. Of course, this did require dumping a lot of power into evocation type spells or attacks, something we were not especially adept in. The remaining power in our suits was going to be a concern in a matter of hours. Our skills were far better utilized in observation and fine detail work, which was a large part of why we ended up on this operation to begin with.
Still. I wanted to see if we could pull off being superheroes. And as much as my Ritualista would hate me for it, there was something I could do without burning a whole lot of power.
My sister had the same idea.
We slammed into a growling Solomon Grundy, using a burst of power to increase our speed and lift to get the overly large zombie out of the wall. I turned my head toward Batman and Nightwing. "Deal with the Joker, we'll handle the zombie!"
Friction was overcome, and Grundy went flying onto the ground four stories below. My sister and I followed, circling around him as he climbed to his feet.
"Hard to believe he got married on a Wednesday," BlackFire said in English. If we weren't flying around, I was sure her tail would be swishing.
"Grundy not like you!" said the hulking thing, clearly a little woozy.
"That's your own problem," BlackFire said, sneering. Her claws lit up with the blackened flames of her namesake. She dove at him, raking burning claws as she passed him by across his chest. Grundy howled in what had to be pain. "We're perfectly likable!"
I followed my sister's dive with one of my own, but I shifted mid-air to a kicking motion, reversing the thrust of my RP to aid my kick. My talons dug into his chest when I struck, forcing him back half a meter. Shadows gathered at my talons, and I pushed off him, leaving a frozen wound in the overly large zombie. This was a supervillain fight. Banter was important. But I needed to do it in English. He wouldn't understand Silvan. "Come on you big dumb ugly… man thing. Show me what you can do!"
Grundy snarled, and in the process, he released a wave of… something that distorted my vision and sensors. That… was not expected. In the least. The zombie charged me, leaping into the air, and I banked to his side, hoping to avoid any sort of charge. His ham-sized fist slammed into me mid-maneuver, sending me hurtling through the air. I slammed into the concrete wall of the nearby police station and crumpled down the wall until I landed on the ground.
Ow.
This was why a certain Countess's lecture on melee combat in Ritual Plate started with "Don't" before going into how to do it if you had no other choice.
"Frost!" BlackFire slammed her hands together, and then she brought them apart, forming a bow made of black flames. She snarled out an incantation in what sounded like Luxon, and she launched an arrow of flames from the bow.
A wave of fire sizzled its way into Grundy before he could hit the ground. It blew him off his feet with an accompanying concussive blast, and the smell of long pork filled the area as his skin cooked in the fire. BlackFire followed up by launching another arrow.
I took a deep breath as the world stopped spinning, and I glared at Grundy. I gathered shadows around me, folding and molding them. I shaped them into a lance, and I reared my arm back, throwing them at the hulking zombie. The lance struck true, driving further into Grundy's chest, and he howled in pain.
The gray-skinned behemoth jumped at my sister once more, and he caught her tail in his big meaty hooks. He squeezed down, and I snarled, readying to launch another lance, but he swung my sister at me. She did her best to slow herself, but we collided, sprawling out onto the ground, edged up against a police cruiser. Grundy attempted to follow up, chasing toward us. An explosion and burst of smoke intercepted him. My sister and I glanced at the source.
Nightwing saluted with an escrima stick, and we climbed to our feet. I glanced down to assess the damage, internally wincing. I was going to get an earful from Augusta, our crew chief, about damage to the RP, but it would be worth it.
Still, this fight had gone on longer than necessary. My sister and I moved in lockstep as Grundy snarled at us once more. Drawing on a familiar power source, one that I was certain should not have been accessible in these suits, my sister and I each leveled a hand at the oncoming zombie man, splayed out our fingers, and then we pointed. With a snarled incantation, we used one of the strongest evocations in our arsenal, combining them with our natural abilities. Twin razor-tipped cyclones erupted from our pointed fingers, each one sheathed in our respective namesakes. Then, the cyclones combined into a single cyclone of shadow, ice, and flame. We were BlackFire and FrostShadow, and we would demonstrate why we had those names.
Our cyclones struck true, carving their way through the hulking zombie's torso, cleaving it in twain. We shifted slightly, and we finished quartering him before beheading him completely. After he dropped to the ground, in pieces, we fed on the ambient energies released from the zombie's second death. Perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps it was less. The energy helped to restore what we had lost in the fight against him and the demons we'd faced earlier.
"And that was the end of Solomon Grundy," I said, raising my hand once more to gather the parts into a pile. Getting rid of the remains seemed appropriate, and my sister clearly agreed as she raised her own hands.
"Wait," Batman said authoritatively as he landed nearby. BlackFire and I cocked our heads slightly. "Don't burn Grundy's remains. He should be returned to his proper resting place, Slaughter Swamp. I can make arrangements for that to happen."
"Slaughter Swamp, hmm?" I asked. "Such wonderful names you have for places here in Gotham," I said, relaxing a little. "I hope that they are not all like that."
Nightwing made a shrugging motion after he landed. "No, not really. Some names are just wonder-less. Those are just plain boring. Nothing happens there at all."
"Nightwing," Batman said in a cautionary tone, and the former Boy Wonder stepped back a couple times. "Where are the two of you staying?" He asked, looking at us.
I looked around. "What about the Joker?"
"On his way to Arkham as we speak," Batman said. "But that doesn't answer the question, FrostShadow."
"We just arrived in the city," BlackFire said. "And on your world. We don't have--"
Batman held up a hand. "You're coming with us, then." He pressed a button on his belt, and a dark black motor vehicle drove up to us. I was hesitant to call it a car, but it was long and wide, with two spoilers that resembled bat wings on the back. There was apparently some sort of jet engine-like exhaust that was below where the trunk would be, and the top of the vehicle slid off, revealing two seats.
"There is no way that thing seats four," I said. This iteration of the car, the Batmobile, appeared to be a two-seater, after all, but it looked so cool. If it weren't for my RP, I'd be willing to sit in my sister's lap for the duration of the ride though.
Luckily, Batman was prepared. He raised his right gauntlet and pressed two buttons that seemed almost blended into it. Hydraulic noises came from the Batmobile as the superpowered car expanded. It lengthened a little over a meter and widened by slightly less. The glass covering slid and separated, revealing enough room to seat four humans comfortably. "A little forward planning never hurts. The two of you can fold your wings in, correct?"
I wrapped my wings around me, even covered with the Ritual Plate's armoring, my dark down feathers were soft against my skin. I would have hidden my wings, but the armored parts of the suit were not currently designed to hide the same way, and it was more efficient to keep them out than to try and re-suit them. BlackFire copied me. We also calmed our Zephyr and to have them spool down the suit's systems as the air spirts cooled off and went quiescent.
Nightwing did a hand-flip into the passenger seat of the vehicle, and he patted behind him on the seat. "Come on in, you two!"
I smiled. You can really tell he comes from a family of gymnasts.
Wonder how he'll try and keep the route hidden, BlackFire sent back as the two of us climbed into the back seat. We curled our tails around us to make the seating even more comfortable.
Once Batman settled into the driver's seat, he looked back at the two of us and frowned. Our faceplates covered our faces completely, even if they were shaped into approximations of similar faces. "Blindfolds aren't an option here. We'll have to talk more when we get to our destination."
Even with blindfolds our suits had navigation systems that would give us a fair idea of where we had traveled. Which Batman likely suspected, and he probably was pondering a way to defeat them.
He flipped a switch and the roof slid back into place. BlackFire dipped her head a little bit to avoid her horns scratching the vehicle's roof. Two more switches had the windows around us turn opaque and dark.
Nightwing looked back at us. "Sorry. We just need to keep where we're going a secret. "
"We understand," I said. "But where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe," Batman said. "It won't be long. Relax."
He flipped one more switch, and a divider rose between the two rows of seats, equally as opaque and dark. Of course, neither of them had any way of knowing that the scrying suites on our suits was as detailed as they were. We weren't going to outright tell him either. We bet he had his suspicions, but there was no reason to confirm them.
Then the glass had a current running through it. Not enough that it would cause physical problems, but enough that it would cause interference with electromagnetic detection. Smart. Of course, Gorgon Rigs worked primarily on magical and thaumaturgical scrying. The electrification would have agitated the Zephyrs if we weren't focused on keeping them calm here. They knew we were calm, so that helped with them as well.
The Batmobile started moving, and I smiled. How much do you think that Jocasta would be jealous of us here?
She's your friend, Frost, BlackFire sent. She shook her head and looked out the opaque window. Our masks could adjust some for the darkening, letting us see beyond, albeit in a shadowed manner. But she's taller than me. Her horns might be scraping the ceiling.
I shrugged. If Neira had her way, our horns would be too. Which would be even more awkward for me. Outside the window, the outlines of the buildings were more visible than their details. Still, the iconic W of Wayne Tower glittered in the distance. Gotham City certainly was a sight to behold, from ground level or as we saw it when we arrived. There's no way we're headed to the main cave.
Wouldn't even bet against that, BlackFire responded. We're unknowns here. We also killed Solomon Grundy. Who was oddly filling. That was a lot of energy off of him.
I nodded. Might be enough to keep him down for good. And it's not even Saturday, according to Joker.
Blackfire snorted. Still possible that he ends up rising from Slaughter Swamp.
I shrugged, and then the Batmobile made a sharp turn toward a building. The street physically rose up before us, revealing a ramp downward into a tunnel. Yes, definitely not the main cave.
Pity we don't really know the details about the auxiliary ones that well, BlackFire said. That was more BlitzFlame's thing than ours.
The ramp led to some sort of underground bridge, and there was something further that caused the Gorgon Rig's sensors to glitch out. I couldn't tell what we were crossing save for that it went very far down. Another hydraulic door opened ahead of us, and we drove into… somewhere. Once the door closed behind us, the windows on the Batmobile grew more transparent, revealing the cave beyond.
This auxiliary Batcave clearly was some sort of secondary training facility used by the Batclan. Tubes along the wall held spare costumes for both Nightwing and Batman, should one of them need to change. There were even a few Robin costumes in some of the tubes, some clearly too small for Nightwing himself. Curious. Perhaps there was another Robin already? A large computer lined one of the walls, and placed precariously on a pedestal above the ground nearby was a very large penny. Strange. Though, to be fair, the weirdest thing in the room was the long ringed hallway that was on the wall opposite the computer. Interesting.
"Oh, that seems to be a teleporter," BlackFire said. "I didn't know they had that sort of technology available here."
I would have cocked an eyebrow at my sister at that moment, but my face was covered. Instead she simply felt my indignation. Really?
Her smirk was palpable. We're alien to them here. He already knows that, and we do come from a far more advanced society. Humans lock up their criminals and don't bother to reform them. This place is even notorious for it.
Still… I shook my head. Yes, House BlackSky was far more civilized than most human societies, and this Earth especially had some interesting proclivities with how their criminals failed to reform. Still, this wasn't Diyu. We couldn't criticize it too much. It wasn't like it was our place. I suppose we can play it up.
BlackFire's tail swished some. She probably even flashed some fang, but our suits covered our faces completely. The Batmobile came to a complete stop, and the roof retracted, letting us stand and stretch out our wings.
"Welcome to the Batcave," Nightwing said. "You aren't overwhelmed are you? Just the right amount of whelmed?"
I tilted my head at the Boy Wonder. "Suppose you could say that. This is impressive. Why bring us here?"
"You said you have nowhere else to say," Batman said as he got out and opened the doors for us to do the same. BlackFire and I walked out of the Batmobile, and the platform the car was parked on lowered, and there was a mechanical whirring that shut a platform overtop of it. That certainly was impressive both in the technological achievement and the funding this must have taken to have those gadgets available. "You're new to Gotham, to Earth, and your suits were damaged in the fight with Grundy."
"You two showed him!" Nightwing said encouragingly. "Grundy's down and out."
"What about your police commissioner?" I asked, tilting my head. "Did you manage to find him? Shouldn't you be looking for him?"
Batman's lips quirked into a smile for the briefest of seconds. I doubted many humans would be able to catch that microexpression. "That's a part of why we're here as well. Follow."
He turned and we could practically feel Nightwing roll his eyes behind his domino mask. "Come on, ladies, let's go to the Bat-Computer."
"...is everything Bat-something?" BlackFire asked. "I mean, do you have something like Bat-Shark Repellant or anything like that? Bat-Bats?"
Nightwing snorted. "Actually, I think there's a design for the first one in the computer. There's a metahuman known as King Shark that I think Batman used it on once."
"... Ah," I said, and I pursed my lips. As we approached the computer, I saw numerous screens light up. Batman took something out of his utility belt that smelled vaguely sulfuric, like gunpowder, and had the scent of a dead something to it. Something remarkably familiar, but I couldn't place it.
Not before Batman placed the residue into the computer, anyway. "Computer, analyze base components of the residue and cross-reference with previously known Joker hideouts."
I forced my tail to be still. It was interesting to watch Batman in detective mode, investigating something like this. Impressive and, if I was being honest, kind of attractive. Batman was a strong, virile person, whose aura just felt like it would be worth it. Still, no. I was not going to attempt to feed on either him or Nightwing. Superman… maybe. Wait. No, that was a worse idea. At least with Batman, I knew Bruce had the reputation of being a womanizer, but Clark Kent? He was with Lois Lane.
Oh, Frost. I know the hero you'd much prefer anyway, BlackFire sent. She's a Wonder. A mental image of a cartoon demoness pulling down her eyelid and sticking out her tongue passed through our connection. Our tails and body language stayed as deathly still as we could though.
"Now, while that's analyzing," Batman said as he turned to us. "We can talk about Grundy, yourselves, and what happened. First, I would like to thank you for helping when you did. You didn't need to step in, but I'm grateful for the assistance."
"It was uh…" BlackFire stumbled over herself. To be honest, I wasn't expecting Batman, of all people, to thank us for help.
"A pleasure to help," I said. "It… it's what we do."
Batman smiled, nodding. "You went against an unknown for you in an unknown city. You used your own technology, which you admitted are test rigs for potential future military use. You clearly do have some sort of heroic drive to you though."
We nodded, nothing that he said was completely unexpected.
"You also killed Solomon Grundy," Batman said. He held up a hand before we could say anything in response. "Cyrus Gold has been dead for over a century. Occasionally, someone or something revives him as Solomon Grundy. Killing him here was a mercy, sending him back to the rest that he surely deserves. However, the methods you used on him would be lethal a lot earlier if used on someone not nearly as enhanced."
"Part of the point," BlackFire muttered. We didn't want him getting back up again.
"You two are soldiers, not traditional heroes," Batman said. "At least not the way we define them here. You aren't invaders, but perhaps you are forward scouts. But you weren't lying when you said you didn't intend on coming here. Wherever you were intending on reaching… this wasn't your intended scouting destination. So… let's be a little more open here. Who are the two of you, really?"
I frowned, but I stood at attention, my sister doing the same. "Primus Centurion FrostShadow, and this is my sister Primus Centurion BlackFire, of the BlackSkyvian Fleet. Currently tasked as test pilots and route scanners."
"And your plans for this planet?"
"Wait. You two are alien, not metahuman?" Nightwing asked. "Or demons?"
"Well…" I shook my head. "We could be considered both aliens and demons. We are from Diyu."
Batman nodded. "And your intentions?"
"Nothing untoward," BlackFire said. "As we came here by accident, the most we would want is to learn."
"The planet does seem interesting, and we would love to learn more," I said in agreement.
Batman nodded. "You're clearly young for your species. Perhaps in late adolescence or early adulthood. Given your predilections for heroics and the lethality of your actions, you will need some training on how to operate here. Given you don't have anywhere to stay…"
Nightwing looked at Batman. "I'm not sure that they'll like this. Adding new members to the Team without warning? Kid Flash will be insufferable, and Superboy and Miss Martian… they won't like the lack of choice. Artemis won't either. You know we prefer to invite new members ourselves."
I glanced at Nightwing.
"It's not that anything is wrong with the two of you," he said. "But I just met you. You're both pretty awesome with what you did, but I can't trust you yet. He taught me that."
"I'm not asking that you have them join the Team," Batman said. "Just that they be allowed to stay in the Mountain."
"Perhaps it would be easier for you to trust us if we disengaged our armor," BlackFire said, nodding to me.
Nightwing blinked. "You aren't worried about your identities?"
"What identities?" I asked. "You have our names, and you know we are not from this planet."
Without waiting for further assurances, we initiated a disengage routine with our Ritual Plates. The self-repair aspects for our Ritual Plate could repair themselves when the armor was disengaged, and the designers had managed to incorporate something new into the design of these armors. It required a lot more Pilot capability and was in some ways uncomfortably like the Andromachin method of Ritual Plate. That was another system we were testing which given the costs, expensive even by Polyxo or Svalinna standards, might limit them to scouting or infiltration roles.
The Plate retracted into a sub-dimension that the armorers had thought to use, basing upon similar principles to what DarkStar's mate's people used. Our Zephyrs went to sleep in the process. All that remained on us from the armor were gem-encrusted chokers around our neck. BlackFire's had a ruby inset in onyx while my own had a sapphire. We wore jet-black bodysuits under our armor, and they retracted into leotards. A red skirt appeared on BlackFire that went down to mid-thigh, and a blue one appeared on mine.
BlackFire's a taller demon than me, and her skin's a bit darker purple than my own. Our tails are both tipped with crimson spades, and they whipped out around to wrap our bodies. Unlike me, my sister had more traditional demonic wings with red skin-like membranes between each rib of it. Her red horns were much shorter than mine, barely sticking out of her forehead. My own wings were made of dark, black feathers, and my red horns curled upward. My powder blue hair fell in tightly curled tresses that went down to the small of my back, hiding my pointed ears, while my sister's violet hair was cut in a pageboy style and straight.
BlackFire's skirt shifted to a pair of leggings and then red tight pants over the leotard after a few seconds, and she slipped on a jacket, with her wings sticking out.
"Wait, you're shapeshifters and have biomorphic armor?" Nightwing asked, his enthusiasm plentiful. He also was grinning widely. "That's amazing. Miss Martian will definitely like that. And Kid Flash will love the fact that you're both very pretty. Honestly, you're a lot."
I nodded with a brief grin. If she was anything like the Martian Manhunter, she would be interesting to meet. "Perhaps. Do you think they would mind us staying?"
Nightwing shook his head. "We'll have to discuss adding you to the team. But really, FrostShadow and BlackFire? Are those really your names?"
"It's how they translate to your language," BlackFire said.
"How would we pronounce them in your native tongue?" Nightwing asked, and Batman stepped back toward the computer.
We told him, and he attempted to repeat them. He came close with my sister, but when he got to mine, he got a little tongue-tied. Silvan wasn't an Earth language though, even if it shared similarities to Latin.
"Interesting," Nightwing said. "I'll stick with the translations for now. I bet KF will be completely whelmed when he sees you. Of course… if the computer's responded…"
Batman shook his head. "I can get Jim, Nightwing. Take them to the Mountain. I've set them up guest access in the Zeta tubes."
"You sure, Batman?" Nightwing asked.
"I've got it. Go and see your friends," Batman said.
"How do the Zeta tubes work, exactly?" I asked.
"They are a teleportation technology that we developed, and they are designed to work well with most systems," Batman said. "It should work fine with what you have."
We nodded. "So, what do we do?"
"Nightwing will put in the coordinates for the Mountain; you just need to walk through." Batman nodded to us. "If you do join the Team, you will be given permanent access and shown how to use the tubes yourself."
"Do you want to wear some masks?" Nightwing asked as he approached the console next to the now-named Zeta Tube.
I shook my head. "What for? We have no secret identities to hide."
"Fair," Nightwing said as he tapped at the console. He gestured toward the hallway. "Go on through, then. Should be an experience. I remember my first time. You'll get to really feel the aster."
I blinked. That… was not a turn of phrase I'd learned in my English studies. The what?
Frost, he's human and maybe your age at most. Let it go, BlackFire said. She gestured toward the doorway. "So, when should w ego?"
"Right now, actually," Nightwing said. "Once you walk through, you'll be at the Mountain."
We exchanged glances again, but we decided together. We might as well go through. It wasn't likely to do anything close to killing us, and at worst, we could just recover from it afterward. As we stepped into the tubed hallway, the rings started to rotate around us, and a voice came on over a speaker.
"Recognized, BlackFire, G09, FrostShadow G10."
We stepped further in, and in the blink of an eye, the Batcave vanished. So too did any form of shielding that we had set up. The world disappeared into an ocean of emotion.
What a disaster.
Without further ado,
Knight Sirens
Chapter One
Go faster, sis. We need to outrun them. I sent over our telepathic link as I weaved through the trees in an attempt to ditch our pursuers. We would have used our suit comms, but our telepathy was far more secure. Trees to my right, trees to the left, and above, my older sister in a similar rig, matching my speed. Her wings stretched as wide as mine did as we jetted through the forest, our zephyrs pushing themselves to their limits. I checked the sensors, and there were even more closing in on our position.
Outrun them? They've got us surrounded, Frost. It's a plague. Her worry rippled through our link, and there was a growl to her 'voice' that I could hear. I worried too. The suits we were in weren't equipped for combat, especially not with an unknown enemy force. Whatever these things were, they seemed to be nothing but rage and something far, far worse. Normally, emotions are easy to identify. Everything feels something that maps to a normal emotive spectrum except for those beings that are really just wrong. There really were only so many ways emotions could be configured in a living being. But whatever these things were, their emotions had been stripped bare, leaving just what we felt. I couldn't even begin to guess what that worse thing was, save for what I felt at the pit of my stomach.
I've got an idea. I tucked my body in, pulling my feathered wings around me, even encased by the suit's enhancements, and I dug my clawed toes into one of the trees, slowing almost instantly to a stop. This maneuver hurt, even with the zephyrs helping dampen the stop, but it was necessary to be able to pull off any sort of win here. Sure, the custom suit had its upsides, but I knew the ritualista would be upset with me when I returned for dinging up their (my) suit. We can't run, BlackFire. You know it. We can't hide. Given our lack of onboard weapons, fighting them is probably suicidal. There's only one option.
Where are you going with this? My sister peeled off her flight and perched on a branch near me as we looked upon the cloud of creatures approaching. They were demons, certainly, yet not of a rival House. They weren't from Diyu at all, really, and nothing in my education or training covered what they might be. They were masculine with mouths full of sharp fangs, unburdened by lips. Within their gaping maws, a glowing orange light nested. Their eyes were bulbous, sticking out the sides of their head.
We jump, I sent. There was only one real option. These suits were too valuable to let fall into any sort of enemy hands, and I didn't want to make a sacrifice play. We needed to leave this area, get away from the demonic swarm. I can hold them off while you get the way open. Hurry.
We're nowhere near our rendezvous point, Frost. We have no clue where we'll end up.
Anywhere is better than here. I drew my sword with my left hand, and I gathered my power in my right. Cold, dark shadows coalesced around my claws, and underneath my visor, I bared my teeth. These things had no clue what they were about to face. We were a species that was constantly underestimated. I switched to vocalizing aloud. "Hey! You demonic pretenders! Come and get me, if you dare!"
I was unsure if they understood me, so I took advantage of the linguistics training I took over the past few years in Fleet, and I repeated myself in four other languages. I must have hit something that they knew, or they just decided on their own, because they started spiraling down toward me. I flourished my blade in anticipation. Whatever these things were, they were going to bleed. They were going to die. As my sister prepped the jump portal, I adjusted the sensory suite to record. I'd be fine because of her. My Zephyrs practically sang in anticipation of what was coming.
"Come on!"
The first demon dive-bombed me, and I pushed off the tree, swiveling around so I could slash at it with my blade, Shiro. Most pilots don't bother wearing a blade, but my sister and I both carried. Most pilots never even considered them necessary, but this was one of the situations where carrying them was right. The holy sword sliced through the demon's body, leaving a trail of green fire and spewing ichor. I bared my fangs, and followed up with a slash of my claws toward the next demon. Unlike many of my Fleetmates, my flames didn't burn. They froze. They sprung forth from icy shadows, and they sprung forth from the tip of Shiro as I swung him. I unleashed a wave of fire, ice and shadow onto the first group of creatures, igniting several, but more were on their way.
"Any time now," I said, curling my right talons and dragging more shadows out toward them. "I'm not sure how long I can keep this up…"
"Nag, nag, little sister," said BlackFire. "There's protocols for this sort of thing. You know them. You've memorized them. We could end up anywhere."
"Better than here," I said, unleashing another burst of ice and shadow, following with a cutting blast from Shiro. This was far more draining than if the Ritual Plate had their weaponry built-in. Just because we'd been trained to fight without the suits didn't mean we liked doing it. I jumped at another demon, driving Shiro into its bulbous eye, and then I kicked it. "Better than being swarmed by these things."
"Could end up swarmed by something else," she said, but her power surged. Magic, our kind of magic, was very will-based, and we studied to perfect it.
I brought my free hand to join my left at Shiro's hilt, and I sneered as I gathered shadows and ice. The zephyrs in my armor trilled, clearly interested in what I was about to do, and I didn't dare to disappoint. I seeded the sky with my shadows, cold, and I drew the heat from below, creating differing charged air. Physics took hold.
One of the demons seemed to yell something almost intelligible, but it didn't finish as lightning struck my sword, then got redirected toward it. A wave of electric energy, wrapped in my icy flames, slammed into several approaching demons. It knocked many of them from the sky with frozen over or paralyzed wings, but the cloud of them only got darker. More lightning struck above as they swarmed.
I landed next to my sister, panting, resting a hand against the trunk of the tree. That had taken a lot out of me. "Get it open now! I don't like our odds against a million of those things."
"The protocols…"
"Bypass them," I said. "We can't let them get these suits." Or us.
"Fine, got it," BlackFire said, and she drove her claws into the air, and she pulled a portal open. This wasn't the normal Fleet jump style, but we didn't have time for doing those calculations manually. A cylindrical opening formed in reality, slowly taking the shape of a door-sized portal. We saw buildings on the other side, skyscrapers, and it had to be better than here. "Go, now, FrostShadow. I can't keep holding it open. There's something on the other side, blocking."
"You need to come with," I said.
"Always," she said, and I pushed off the branch after letting off a final blast of icy shadows. This one was more to obscure us than deal any damage. I dove through the portal, closely followed by my older sister, each of us uncaring of what would be found on the other side. Whatever it was, it was better than here.
**********************************
Cities are rarely completely dark, even at night. Silvana, the city we grew up in, is no exception, even with the exceptional night vision of the majority of its residents. The city that my sister and I ended up in on the other side of the jump portal, however, seemed dark even with our night vision. It was uninviting, like the city itself didn't want you there, nor did it care how you would leave. The lights that were there glared angrily down on the street corners, their rage-filled gaze causing them to flicker like an out-of-control disco ball. Too many were out, as it were, and the dark streets felt off, even from as high up as we were.
The buildings were extremely gothic in design with some art deco, even for a city designed by humans. For this city certainly was designed by humans, given the sheer soullessness of some of its construction. It simultaneously resembled buildings we'd seen in versions of New York, Chicago, and Toronto all at once. Wherever we were, obviously was none of those cities. BlackFire and I flew over the rooftops, taking the scrying intake with our Gorgon Rigs, looking for anything familiar. The city's darkness was oppressive, and it almost seemed to be there in the composited maps we were building up . There was an aura that the city held, one of rage, fear, and a lack of sanity, with only a hint of light fighting back the darkness. The two of us were far from home, yet something about this place was familiar.
None of those demons that had been chasing us had managed to follow through BlackFire's portal, and there wasn't anything that shared that sort of signature anywhere nearby. There was something to the north side of the city, an area that read as high in magic relating to death, and there were certainly humans capable of using magic within the city. We circled one of the taller buildings twice, keeping our Veils up to put us out of sight of any visible watchers or cameras that were picked up by our rigs, and then we landed on the building's rooftop. Well, to be more accurate, BlackFire landed on the rooftop, and I took up residence on the edge of the building, perching next to a stone gargoyle.
Something about this city seemed deeply familiar, though I knew that none of the Earths that BlackFire and I had been to with the Fleet had a city like this. At least, we hadn't been to the city like this.
"So, we landed on an Earth," BlackFire said as she walked up behind me. "I don't think we've been to this one before."
I shrugged and I swapped to a more mundane mode on my Gorgon Rig's scrying. Someone on the development team had suggested expanding the radio signals we could pick up and the processing modes would be useful for any infiltration force, and our Ritualista had agreed to make those modifications. We did have plenty of examples of various "earth standard" broadcast protocols. s. I was able to identify several broadcast radio signals, each overlapping on my helmet's interface, but I hadn't chosen to isolate any of them. I was tempted to look beyond the shielding that my suit and training provided for my empathy and unleash it on the city, but… Even through the shields, I could feel it. "This is an English-speaking city, or at least a language that is close to it. And… well, there's something… the people…"
"They're scared, angry or both," BlackFire said. "I feel it too, Frost. Something is wrong here, and I can't even figure out what. This city's got issues."
"Issues on top of issues," I said, looking out over the city. A spotlight from a nearby roof drew my eye to the sky, and I blinked. "That… might be a clue of sorts."
"What do you..?" BlackFire followed my pointing finger. "Oh. Are we sure that someone's not celebrating something?"
"Or filming something?" I shrugged. The searchlight in the sky shone brightly, projecting an image of a familiar symbol, one all too familiar. In Cadet School, someone had snuck in some translated comic books imported from one or two Earths, and our whole Flight ended up doing a few movie nights with subtitles regarding this very item. We even managed to find a smaller opera house in Silvana that was running a production, though they had taken a few liberties with the localization; for one, male ballet dancers were a hot commodity. The symbol had two prongs for the ears and spread wings in black upon the lit background. "... I'm not sure how it's possible, but I think we're in Gotham city."
"The between is supposed to connect to many different Earths, in addition to Diyu, but…" BlackFire shook her head. "I didn't think this would be possible. The Catographer's Guild will want to talk with us when we get back. There's worse places we could have ended up, and worse times. Imagine us showing up in Metropolis, fresh from that portal. In daylight."
We wouldn't have had time to camouflage. Here, we did, but by being on the roof and not being out in public, we didn't outright need to. Not yet, anyway.
"I am less worried about the big guy than some of his villains," I said. Then I cocked my head. My Gorgon Rig alerted me to two signals approaching from upwind moving fast up the side of the building. Humans, determined ones, moving quicker than normal. Clearly, they were using tools. The two pulled over the side of the building, landing on the roof, and their smell wafted over on the breeze. Some of it was tied to their emotional state as well. The rig detected several weapons on their persons along with analyzing one to be older, maybe between early adulthood and middle age, while the younger was a teenager. Both were determined people, and the younger felt… giddy? Interesting. Company.
I know, Frost. I got them detected too. The two of us turned toward them, each grinning under our helmets. It wasn't every day that you got to meet genuine superheroes. Not that they'd be able to see our grins behind our closed helms.
Two dark figures slipped from within the shadows, and even with the good night vision we had, it was tough to make them out or get a good look at them until they were completely in view. The Gorgon Rig in our suits kept us aware of where they were the entire time, but they were very good at using the shadows to hide their approach. When we finally got a good look at them, it took nearly all my willpower to not make a gleeful noise. I had read many an imported book about this pair and seen a few films.
Batman was almost required reading in our first flight in the Household Fleet. I blamed our first Primus Centurion for that, primarily. All the movies and drawings couldn't compare to the human in front of us. Batman was taller than my sister, even without counting the pointed ears in the cowl that hid his eyes so well. He felt like he towered over me. His suit was gray and armored with a black bat sigil over his chest, yet there was no yellow background to it. He also had his utility belt on his waist along with a long black cape that draped down his back.
His companion was Nightwing, surprisingly. He wore a black bat-shaped domino mask to cover his eyes, and he wore a black suit with a blue bird sigil on the front. He was younger than I expected, barely looking older than me, far younger than I would have expected him to be if he was wearing that costume.
"Well, that's a new sight," Nightwing said in English as he approached. He stuck close to Batman, even if we could tell he felt the urge to do something more. "I almost wish KF were here. I'm sure he'd make some interesting comments about the two of you ladies. You are ladies, correct?"
KF? Huh. I wondered if that was short for Kid Flash. Maybe a teammate from when he was on the Titans? It had been some time since I'd managed to acquire any comics with Nightwing in them. They were all imports and thus a bit expensive. He certainly looked somewhere between BlackFire and I in age, but he could have been younger than me.
I cocked my head to the side, and my tail swished behind me. English was not one of my strong languages. It could get confusing at times. Especially with contractions. "One would think that someone who studies under a person that dresses up like a bat to fight crime would have little room to judge."
"Who are you?" Batman's voice came out a little on the rougher side, like he was pitching his natural voice down a little. However, he wasn't using any technology to change it. Likely he used a different persona when he was out of the costume to better differentiate himself from his costumed self. He didn't sound angry, and a bit of suspicious curiosity came off his emotional aura, even if it didn't appear in his voice.
"I'm BlackFire," my sister said, and then she gestured to me. "And this is my little sister, FrostShadow."
"And you are the Batman and the Nightwing, caped crusaders," I said. "I am certain that you have far better things to deal with this evening than us."
"Perhaps," Batman said, and despite his eyes being covered, I got the feeling that he was looking us over. It was a little uncomfortable for us to be unable to meet our eyes, but who knew what we'd end up seeing? "You are costumed and in Gotham, and you're new. For what purpose?"
I frowned under my helmet. With the faceplate down, he wouldn't be able to see my face, but I made sure to keep my tail still. "It was not our intention to come to this city. We were testing some new equipment, mapping some new travel routes and overshot our destination."
"We intend no harm to anyone in this city, Batman," BlackFire said. "As my sister said, we had no intention to even come here. We knew of this city, but we had not ever planned on coming here."
Mostly because we didn't know that it actually existed on an Earth somewhere. Most of the Earths we had interacted with simply had this as a comic book. It was curious. I was not looking forward to the debriefings where our suit's logs would be dissected.
Batman studied us for a second, and it felt similar to being looked at by a Tribune. It was all I could do to not preen under the gaze, to try and make myself seem even more approachable. Was it wrong to want to look good for a superhero like this one? He had a presence to him that was just raw intimidation, and even knowing he was completely human, I had no doubts that he would stand strong against anything thrown at him.
In reality, he would be a very good one of us, were it to happen. Maybe that little opera wasn't so outlandish.
"And just what were your plans for the equipment?"
"In the most generic of terms, transfer the data to the research teams, who would then translate it into upgrades for future production models," BlackFire said. "The production models would then be used to protect our people and the interests of our state."
Batman nodded, and then he frowned. My sister and I tilted our heads slightly. Our hearing is far better than that of humanity, not to mention our Gorgon Rigs had audio processing in addition to the other intakes, so we could hear the voice in his ear. An older man with an English accent was speaking over the crackling radio.
"Sir, Commissioner Gordon is waiting. It's the Joker, sir," said the voice that could only be the Wayne family butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Involuntarily, I shuddered. Of course, if we were in Gotham City with Batman and Nightwing in front of us, the Clown Prince of Crime was real too. As fun as reading about his escapades could be, the idea of a real Joker did not sit well with me.
"Hey, the two of you all right?" Nightwing asked. He gave us a grin, showing his fangs a little. Teeth. Not fangs. Humans didn't have any. "You look a little discombobulated right now." He suddenly turned contemplative. "I'm going to need you to get nice and combobulated."
"... What does that even mean?" I asked. "Is that a real word?"
"No, Frost, it isn't," BlackFire said. "It's not a thing."
"Is so," Nightwing said with an even smugger grin. "I just made it one."
"Enough," Batman said. "Nightwing, head toward the police station. BlackFire, FrostShadow, I assume you can fly in those things?'
"Yes," we said in unison.
"Good," Batman said. "We can continue our conversation later, but in the meantime, I want you to follow us. Stay back and away. Jim doesn't need to know about you yet, and I have more questions. However, the Joker needs to be stopped."
He didn't give us a chance to respond. He simply ran and jumped off the building, his cape fluttering in the wind, and Nightwing followed him. Mere seconds later, we heard shots fire, and as we looked over the building, we saw the two Caped Crusaders each swinging along a grappling line. Impressive.
"They certainly seemed human," BlackFire said, returning to our native tongue. "But then they go and do something like that."
I shrugged. "They're heroes. Peak human condition, right? Imagine if they were like us."
BlackFire's tail swished, and she spun up her RP. I did the same, and we flew off after them. This time, instead of going overtop of the buildings, we flew between them, keeping just enough distance back that we could follow Batman and NIghtwing as they moved.
It was interesting. Batman's movement seemed to be the most like a Diyu demon not wearing any sort of RP. He spent half of his time between swings using his cape to glide. He hung on the air about as well as the average one of us. His cape behaved a lot more like my sister's wings.
Nightwing, on the other hand, did far more acrobatics in his movement. He would push off the buildings, grab onto handrails and swing, but even he had some wingsuit properties to his costume, some webbing between his arms and his legs that only seemed to appear when it caught the air. It was truly an interesting sight to watch.
I made sure that I was getting as much information as I could with my Gorgon Rig, while also taking advantage of my suit's feeding options. I was still hungry after expending that energy against those demons that existed between.
The two of them landed on the edge of the police station roof, and my sister and I hovered over a nearby building. We could hear the people on that roof quite clearly. Something seemed off about one of the men, a suited one wearing a hat,, but I couldn't tell from this angle. I started running some scrying with the Gorgon Rig on him.
"Gordon, we're here," Batman said. "What's going on?"
"It's the Joker, Batman," said an older man's voice, but while the voice came from the man that drew my attention, it didn't come from his mouth. It came from something in his pocket, a tape recorder? His hands were in there, manipulating something. His companions seemed nervous, but they were looking down.
"I've been informed," said Batman, stepping closer to the man. His hands were at his belt, and at this distance, I got a feeling of resignation off of him. Had he realized something was off about the older man as well? "Where is he?"
"I'm surprised, Bats, truly I am," said the man, his voice different this time. This was his voice, and as he turned, my sister and I tensed. The man had a white face, almost the pallor some Diyu demons had, green hair, yellowed eyes, and for some reason a painted-on grin that looked anything but happy. This was the Joker, and what I felt from him was a sense of murderous glee. "You're usually much quicker on the uptake than this."
It was surprising how quickly Batman made it across the rooftop to lift Joker by his lapels. "I already asked you once, Joker. Where. Is. He? Where's Gordon?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about old Jim," Joker siad. "You'd be better off worrying about your not-so-little sidekick anymore. What was his name again? Some little bird? It's a Thursday, after all, and I wouldn't want him to take ill."
The Joker let off a maniacal laugh, and warnings blared on my sensors. A large source of necromantic energy was detected, and a large meaty fist reached up through the building's roof to grab Nightwing. How? How had that thing managed to stay hidden so well until now? Yes, we hadn't been scrying specifically for it, but surely we would have felt… oh.
Emotion is more or less a universal thing to an empath. Emotions, for most beings, all come down to feeling the same way. Joy feels like joy, sadness like sadness, arousal like arousal, no matter the species. I've met spirits, demons, humans, and many other things in between, and each of them have had the same basis for their emotions. They just had ever so slightly different flavors, if you will. It's not usual that anyone can surprise us with feelings that far out of the norm, and it usually came from those either severely impaired with drug use or with minds so alien that their feelings are more color than anything else. I swear, once I met a being who quite literally felt purple, of all things.
This thing. This massive undead creature, had feelings so dull that they faded to background noise. If it had any sort of actual feeling to it, it was muffled by everything, by the fact that it was already dead. A zombie, of sorts.
"Born on a Monday… Christened on Tuesday…" Joker laughed again. "Say hello to Solomon Grundy!"
Grundy roared, and my sister and I had already taken to the air. Batman tossed some sort of explosive at the arm that held Nightwing just as electricity arced across the arm. Nightwing must have had some sort of electrical prod. The hand spasmed, dropping NIghtwing, who rolled away before the explosives struck. The resultant explosion blew the hulking zombie off the roof and slamming him into a wall.
As the smoke cleared, Solomon Grundy became visible, and my sister and I scanned him with our Gorgon Rigs. Targeting data came up on the display which was helpful but utterly useless at the moment. Gray skin, two and a half meters tall, and made entirely of coiled muscle. There were parts rotting within him, held together by some sort of necromantic energies that were both magical and nonmagical. Confusing, to say the least. He had white hair, wore a torn suit jacket and trousers cut off at the knees. It reminded me of the poem, which my mother had read to me when I was little.
I shook my head. Joker had even quoted it and referenced a later line in the nursery rhyme.
We should help, I sent my sister. What I got back from her was an irritated feeling coupled with some sarcasm.
Of course, the Ritual Plate we wore were test suits. Which meant that they were unarmed. Normally, in Ritual Plate combat, we would use our weapons and attack from range, taking out whatever unlucky enemy failed to dodge out of the way of the attack. There rarely was any sort of reason to get up close and personal. We were Fleet Pilots, not infantry. The Imperial Legions had their ground pounders, we were Fleet. However, after a Legionary Flier Countess had the unlucky experience of being forced to fight in an unarmed Ritual Plate a few years back, the Fleet added some trainings on what to do if you were in a situation where either your weapons were disabled or you were flying an unarmed suit. And that was after the Legions had put in their own program.
Pilots were often better prepared than they thought. Given the magical talent necessary to even be able to operate the suit's systems and their air spirits, Pilots could often repurpose some of that power for other reasons. The Verutum launcher was a prime example of a weapon system that used more of a Pilot's magical skills.
My sister and I were on the higher end of that aptitude curve, so we had offensive spells to back up additional physical activities, as we demonstrated on those additional demons earlier. They just lacked the range and dedicated power that the normal weaponry would have on a Ritual Plate. Of course, this did require dumping a lot of power into evocation type spells or attacks, something we were not especially adept in. The remaining power in our suits was going to be a concern in a matter of hours. Our skills were far better utilized in observation and fine detail work, which was a large part of why we ended up on this operation to begin with.
Still. I wanted to see if we could pull off being superheroes. And as much as my Ritualista would hate me for it, there was something I could do without burning a whole lot of power.
My sister had the same idea.
We slammed into a growling Solomon Grundy, using a burst of power to increase our speed and lift to get the overly large zombie out of the wall. I turned my head toward Batman and Nightwing. "Deal with the Joker, we'll handle the zombie!"
Friction was overcome, and Grundy went flying onto the ground four stories below. My sister and I followed, circling around him as he climbed to his feet.
"Hard to believe he got married on a Wednesday," BlackFire said in English. If we weren't flying around, I was sure her tail would be swishing.
"Grundy not like you!" said the hulking thing, clearly a little woozy.
"That's your own problem," BlackFire said, sneering. Her claws lit up with the blackened flames of her namesake. She dove at him, raking burning claws as she passed him by across his chest. Grundy howled in what had to be pain. "We're perfectly likable!"
I followed my sister's dive with one of my own, but I shifted mid-air to a kicking motion, reversing the thrust of my RP to aid my kick. My talons dug into his chest when I struck, forcing him back half a meter. Shadows gathered at my talons, and I pushed off him, leaving a frozen wound in the overly large zombie. This was a supervillain fight. Banter was important. But I needed to do it in English. He wouldn't understand Silvan. "Come on you big dumb ugly… man thing. Show me what you can do!"
Grundy snarled, and in the process, he released a wave of… something that distorted my vision and sensors. That… was not expected. In the least. The zombie charged me, leaping into the air, and I banked to his side, hoping to avoid any sort of charge. His ham-sized fist slammed into me mid-maneuver, sending me hurtling through the air. I slammed into the concrete wall of the nearby police station and crumpled down the wall until I landed on the ground.
Ow.
This was why a certain Countess's lecture on melee combat in Ritual Plate started with "Don't" before going into how to do it if you had no other choice.
"Frost!" BlackFire slammed her hands together, and then she brought them apart, forming a bow made of black flames. She snarled out an incantation in what sounded like Luxon, and she launched an arrow of flames from the bow.
A wave of fire sizzled its way into Grundy before he could hit the ground. It blew him off his feet with an accompanying concussive blast, and the smell of long pork filled the area as his skin cooked in the fire. BlackFire followed up by launching another arrow.
I took a deep breath as the world stopped spinning, and I glared at Grundy. I gathered shadows around me, folding and molding them. I shaped them into a lance, and I reared my arm back, throwing them at the hulking zombie. The lance struck true, driving further into Grundy's chest, and he howled in pain.
The gray-skinned behemoth jumped at my sister once more, and he caught her tail in his big meaty hooks. He squeezed down, and I snarled, readying to launch another lance, but he swung my sister at me. She did her best to slow herself, but we collided, sprawling out onto the ground, edged up against a police cruiser. Grundy attempted to follow up, chasing toward us. An explosion and burst of smoke intercepted him. My sister and I glanced at the source.
Nightwing saluted with an escrima stick, and we climbed to our feet. I glanced down to assess the damage, internally wincing. I was going to get an earful from Augusta, our crew chief, about damage to the RP, but it would be worth it.
Still, this fight had gone on longer than necessary. My sister and I moved in lockstep as Grundy snarled at us once more. Drawing on a familiar power source, one that I was certain should not have been accessible in these suits, my sister and I each leveled a hand at the oncoming zombie man, splayed out our fingers, and then we pointed. With a snarled incantation, we used one of the strongest evocations in our arsenal, combining them with our natural abilities. Twin razor-tipped cyclones erupted from our pointed fingers, each one sheathed in our respective namesakes. Then, the cyclones combined into a single cyclone of shadow, ice, and flame. We were BlackFire and FrostShadow, and we would demonstrate why we had those names.
Our cyclones struck true, carving their way through the hulking zombie's torso, cleaving it in twain. We shifted slightly, and we finished quartering him before beheading him completely. After he dropped to the ground, in pieces, we fed on the ambient energies released from the zombie's second death. Perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps it was less. The energy helped to restore what we had lost in the fight against him and the demons we'd faced earlier.
"And that was the end of Solomon Grundy," I said, raising my hand once more to gather the parts into a pile. Getting rid of the remains seemed appropriate, and my sister clearly agreed as she raised her own hands.
"Wait," Batman said authoritatively as he landed nearby. BlackFire and I cocked our heads slightly. "Don't burn Grundy's remains. He should be returned to his proper resting place, Slaughter Swamp. I can make arrangements for that to happen."
"Slaughter Swamp, hmm?" I asked. "Such wonderful names you have for places here in Gotham," I said, relaxing a little. "I hope that they are not all like that."
Nightwing made a shrugging motion after he landed. "No, not really. Some names are just wonder-less. Those are just plain boring. Nothing happens there at all."
"Nightwing," Batman said in a cautionary tone, and the former Boy Wonder stepped back a couple times. "Where are the two of you staying?" He asked, looking at us.
I looked around. "What about the Joker?"
"On his way to Arkham as we speak," Batman said. "But that doesn't answer the question, FrostShadow."
"We just arrived in the city," BlackFire said. "And on your world. We don't have--"
Batman held up a hand. "You're coming with us, then." He pressed a button on his belt, and a dark black motor vehicle drove up to us. I was hesitant to call it a car, but it was long and wide, with two spoilers that resembled bat wings on the back. There was apparently some sort of jet engine-like exhaust that was below where the trunk would be, and the top of the vehicle slid off, revealing two seats.
"There is no way that thing seats four," I said. This iteration of the car, the Batmobile, appeared to be a two-seater, after all, but it looked so cool. If it weren't for my RP, I'd be willing to sit in my sister's lap for the duration of the ride though.
Luckily, Batman was prepared. He raised his right gauntlet and pressed two buttons that seemed almost blended into it. Hydraulic noises came from the Batmobile as the superpowered car expanded. It lengthened a little over a meter and widened by slightly less. The glass covering slid and separated, revealing enough room to seat four humans comfortably. "A little forward planning never hurts. The two of you can fold your wings in, correct?"
I wrapped my wings around me, even covered with the Ritual Plate's armoring, my dark down feathers were soft against my skin. I would have hidden my wings, but the armored parts of the suit were not currently designed to hide the same way, and it was more efficient to keep them out than to try and re-suit them. BlackFire copied me. We also calmed our Zephyr and to have them spool down the suit's systems as the air spirts cooled off and went quiescent.
Nightwing did a hand-flip into the passenger seat of the vehicle, and he patted behind him on the seat. "Come on in, you two!"
I smiled. You can really tell he comes from a family of gymnasts.
Wonder how he'll try and keep the route hidden, BlackFire sent back as the two of us climbed into the back seat. We curled our tails around us to make the seating even more comfortable.
Once Batman settled into the driver's seat, he looked back at the two of us and frowned. Our faceplates covered our faces completely, even if they were shaped into approximations of similar faces. "Blindfolds aren't an option here. We'll have to talk more when we get to our destination."
Even with blindfolds our suits had navigation systems that would give us a fair idea of where we had traveled. Which Batman likely suspected, and he probably was pondering a way to defeat them.
He flipped a switch and the roof slid back into place. BlackFire dipped her head a little bit to avoid her horns scratching the vehicle's roof. Two more switches had the windows around us turn opaque and dark.
Nightwing looked back at us. "Sorry. We just need to keep where we're going a secret. "
"We understand," I said. "But where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe," Batman said. "It won't be long. Relax."
He flipped one more switch, and a divider rose between the two rows of seats, equally as opaque and dark. Of course, neither of them had any way of knowing that the scrying suites on our suits was as detailed as they were. We weren't going to outright tell him either. We bet he had his suspicions, but there was no reason to confirm them.
Then the glass had a current running through it. Not enough that it would cause physical problems, but enough that it would cause interference with electromagnetic detection. Smart. Of course, Gorgon Rigs worked primarily on magical and thaumaturgical scrying. The electrification would have agitated the Zephyrs if we weren't focused on keeping them calm here. They knew we were calm, so that helped with them as well.
The Batmobile started moving, and I smiled. How much do you think that Jocasta would be jealous of us here?
She's your friend, Frost, BlackFire sent. She shook her head and looked out the opaque window. Our masks could adjust some for the darkening, letting us see beyond, albeit in a shadowed manner. But she's taller than me. Her horns might be scraping the ceiling.
I shrugged. If Neira had her way, our horns would be too. Which would be even more awkward for me. Outside the window, the outlines of the buildings were more visible than their details. Still, the iconic W of Wayne Tower glittered in the distance. Gotham City certainly was a sight to behold, from ground level or as we saw it when we arrived. There's no way we're headed to the main cave.
Wouldn't even bet against that, BlackFire responded. We're unknowns here. We also killed Solomon Grundy. Who was oddly filling. That was a lot of energy off of him.
I nodded. Might be enough to keep him down for good. And it's not even Saturday, according to Joker.
Blackfire snorted. Still possible that he ends up rising from Slaughter Swamp.
I shrugged, and then the Batmobile made a sharp turn toward a building. The street physically rose up before us, revealing a ramp downward into a tunnel. Yes, definitely not the main cave.
Pity we don't really know the details about the auxiliary ones that well, BlackFire said. That was more BlitzFlame's thing than ours.
The ramp led to some sort of underground bridge, and there was something further that caused the Gorgon Rig's sensors to glitch out. I couldn't tell what we were crossing save for that it went very far down. Another hydraulic door opened ahead of us, and we drove into… somewhere. Once the door closed behind us, the windows on the Batmobile grew more transparent, revealing the cave beyond.
This auxiliary Batcave clearly was some sort of secondary training facility used by the Batclan. Tubes along the wall held spare costumes for both Nightwing and Batman, should one of them need to change. There were even a few Robin costumes in some of the tubes, some clearly too small for Nightwing himself. Curious. Perhaps there was another Robin already? A large computer lined one of the walls, and placed precariously on a pedestal above the ground nearby was a very large penny. Strange. Though, to be fair, the weirdest thing in the room was the long ringed hallway that was on the wall opposite the computer. Interesting.
"Oh, that seems to be a teleporter," BlackFire said. "I didn't know they had that sort of technology available here."
I would have cocked an eyebrow at my sister at that moment, but my face was covered. Instead she simply felt my indignation. Really?
Her smirk was palpable. We're alien to them here. He already knows that, and we do come from a far more advanced society. Humans lock up their criminals and don't bother to reform them. This place is even notorious for it.
Still… I shook my head. Yes, House BlackSky was far more civilized than most human societies, and this Earth especially had some interesting proclivities with how their criminals failed to reform. Still, this wasn't Diyu. We couldn't criticize it too much. It wasn't like it was our place. I suppose we can play it up.
BlackFire's tail swished some. She probably even flashed some fang, but our suits covered our faces completely. The Batmobile came to a complete stop, and the roof retracted, letting us stand and stretch out our wings.
"Welcome to the Batcave," Nightwing said. "You aren't overwhelmed are you? Just the right amount of whelmed?"
I tilted my head at the Boy Wonder. "Suppose you could say that. This is impressive. Why bring us here?"
"You said you have nowhere else to say," Batman said as he got out and opened the doors for us to do the same. BlackFire and I walked out of the Batmobile, and the platform the car was parked on lowered, and there was a mechanical whirring that shut a platform overtop of it. That certainly was impressive both in the technological achievement and the funding this must have taken to have those gadgets available. "You're new to Gotham, to Earth, and your suits were damaged in the fight with Grundy."
"You two showed him!" Nightwing said encouragingly. "Grundy's down and out."
"What about your police commissioner?" I asked, tilting my head. "Did you manage to find him? Shouldn't you be looking for him?"
Batman's lips quirked into a smile for the briefest of seconds. I doubted many humans would be able to catch that microexpression. "That's a part of why we're here as well. Follow."
He turned and we could practically feel Nightwing roll his eyes behind his domino mask. "Come on, ladies, let's go to the Bat-Computer."
"...is everything Bat-something?" BlackFire asked. "I mean, do you have something like Bat-Shark Repellant or anything like that? Bat-Bats?"
Nightwing snorted. "Actually, I think there's a design for the first one in the computer. There's a metahuman known as King Shark that I think Batman used it on once."
"... Ah," I said, and I pursed my lips. As we approached the computer, I saw numerous screens light up. Batman took something out of his utility belt that smelled vaguely sulfuric, like gunpowder, and had the scent of a dead something to it. Something remarkably familiar, but I couldn't place it.
Not before Batman placed the residue into the computer, anyway. "Computer, analyze base components of the residue and cross-reference with previously known Joker hideouts."
I forced my tail to be still. It was interesting to watch Batman in detective mode, investigating something like this. Impressive and, if I was being honest, kind of attractive. Batman was a strong, virile person, whose aura just felt like it would be worth it. Still, no. I was not going to attempt to feed on either him or Nightwing. Superman… maybe. Wait. No, that was a worse idea. At least with Batman, I knew Bruce had the reputation of being a womanizer, but Clark Kent? He was with Lois Lane.
Oh, Frost. I know the hero you'd much prefer anyway, BlackFire sent. She's a Wonder. A mental image of a cartoon demoness pulling down her eyelid and sticking out her tongue passed through our connection. Our tails and body language stayed as deathly still as we could though.
"Now, while that's analyzing," Batman said as he turned to us. "We can talk about Grundy, yourselves, and what happened. First, I would like to thank you for helping when you did. You didn't need to step in, but I'm grateful for the assistance."
"It was uh…" BlackFire stumbled over herself. To be honest, I wasn't expecting Batman, of all people, to thank us for help.
"A pleasure to help," I said. "It… it's what we do."
Batman smiled, nodding. "You went against an unknown for you in an unknown city. You used your own technology, which you admitted are test rigs for potential future military use. You clearly do have some sort of heroic drive to you though."
We nodded, nothing that he said was completely unexpected.
"You also killed Solomon Grundy," Batman said. He held up a hand before we could say anything in response. "Cyrus Gold has been dead for over a century. Occasionally, someone or something revives him as Solomon Grundy. Killing him here was a mercy, sending him back to the rest that he surely deserves. However, the methods you used on him would be lethal a lot earlier if used on someone not nearly as enhanced."
"Part of the point," BlackFire muttered. We didn't want him getting back up again.
"You two are soldiers, not traditional heroes," Batman said. "At least not the way we define them here. You aren't invaders, but perhaps you are forward scouts. But you weren't lying when you said you didn't intend on coming here. Wherever you were intending on reaching… this wasn't your intended scouting destination. So… let's be a little more open here. Who are the two of you, really?"
I frowned, but I stood at attention, my sister doing the same. "Primus Centurion FrostShadow, and this is my sister Primus Centurion BlackFire, of the BlackSkyvian Fleet. Currently tasked as test pilots and route scanners."
"And your plans for this planet?"
"Wait. You two are alien, not metahuman?" Nightwing asked. "Or demons?"
"Well…" I shook my head. "We could be considered both aliens and demons. We are from Diyu."
Batman nodded. "And your intentions?"
"Nothing untoward," BlackFire said. "As we came here by accident, the most we would want is to learn."
"The planet does seem interesting, and we would love to learn more," I said in agreement.
Batman nodded. "You're clearly young for your species. Perhaps in late adolescence or early adulthood. Given your predilections for heroics and the lethality of your actions, you will need some training on how to operate here. Given you don't have anywhere to stay…"
Nightwing looked at Batman. "I'm not sure that they'll like this. Adding new members to the Team without warning? Kid Flash will be insufferable, and Superboy and Miss Martian… they won't like the lack of choice. Artemis won't either. You know we prefer to invite new members ourselves."
I glanced at Nightwing.
"It's not that anything is wrong with the two of you," he said. "But I just met you. You're both pretty awesome with what you did, but I can't trust you yet. He taught me that."
"I'm not asking that you have them join the Team," Batman said. "Just that they be allowed to stay in the Mountain."
"Perhaps it would be easier for you to trust us if we disengaged our armor," BlackFire said, nodding to me.
Nightwing blinked. "You aren't worried about your identities?"
"What identities?" I asked. "You have our names, and you know we are not from this planet."
Without waiting for further assurances, we initiated a disengage routine with our Ritual Plates. The self-repair aspects for our Ritual Plate could repair themselves when the armor was disengaged, and the designers had managed to incorporate something new into the design of these armors. It required a lot more Pilot capability and was in some ways uncomfortably like the Andromachin method of Ritual Plate. That was another system we were testing which given the costs, expensive even by Polyxo or Svalinna standards, might limit them to scouting or infiltration roles.
The Plate retracted into a sub-dimension that the armorers had thought to use, basing upon similar principles to what DarkStar's mate's people used. Our Zephyrs went to sleep in the process. All that remained on us from the armor were gem-encrusted chokers around our neck. BlackFire's had a ruby inset in onyx while my own had a sapphire. We wore jet-black bodysuits under our armor, and they retracted into leotards. A red skirt appeared on BlackFire that went down to mid-thigh, and a blue one appeared on mine.
BlackFire's a taller demon than me, and her skin's a bit darker purple than my own. Our tails are both tipped with crimson spades, and they whipped out around to wrap our bodies. Unlike me, my sister had more traditional demonic wings with red skin-like membranes between each rib of it. Her red horns were much shorter than mine, barely sticking out of her forehead. My own wings were made of dark, black feathers, and my red horns curled upward. My powder blue hair fell in tightly curled tresses that went down to the small of my back, hiding my pointed ears, while my sister's violet hair was cut in a pageboy style and straight.
BlackFire's skirt shifted to a pair of leggings and then red tight pants over the leotard after a few seconds, and she slipped on a jacket, with her wings sticking out.
"Wait, you're shapeshifters and have biomorphic armor?" Nightwing asked, his enthusiasm plentiful. He also was grinning widely. "That's amazing. Miss Martian will definitely like that. And Kid Flash will love the fact that you're both very pretty. Honestly, you're a lot."
I nodded with a brief grin. If she was anything like the Martian Manhunter, she would be interesting to meet. "Perhaps. Do you think they would mind us staying?"
Nightwing shook his head. "We'll have to discuss adding you to the team. But really, FrostShadow and BlackFire? Are those really your names?"
"It's how they translate to your language," BlackFire said.
"How would we pronounce them in your native tongue?" Nightwing asked, and Batman stepped back toward the computer.
We told him, and he attempted to repeat them. He came close with my sister, but when he got to mine, he got a little tongue-tied. Silvan wasn't an Earth language though, even if it shared similarities to Latin.
"Interesting," Nightwing said. "I'll stick with the translations for now. I bet KF will be completely whelmed when he sees you. Of course… if the computer's responded…"
Batman shook his head. "I can get Jim, Nightwing. Take them to the Mountain. I've set them up guest access in the Zeta tubes."
"You sure, Batman?" Nightwing asked.
"I've got it. Go and see your friends," Batman said.
"How do the Zeta tubes work, exactly?" I asked.
"They are a teleportation technology that we developed, and they are designed to work well with most systems," Batman said. "It should work fine with what you have."
We nodded. "So, what do we do?"
"Nightwing will put in the coordinates for the Mountain; you just need to walk through." Batman nodded to us. "If you do join the Team, you will be given permanent access and shown how to use the tubes yourself."
"Do you want to wear some masks?" Nightwing asked as he approached the console next to the now-named Zeta Tube.
I shook my head. "What for? We have no secret identities to hide."
"Fair," Nightwing said as he tapped at the console. He gestured toward the hallway. "Go on through, then. Should be an experience. I remember my first time. You'll get to really feel the aster."
I blinked. That… was not a turn of phrase I'd learned in my English studies. The what?
Frost, he's human and maybe your age at most. Let it go, BlackFire said. She gestured toward the doorway. "So, when should w ego?"
"Right now, actually," Nightwing said. "Once you walk through, you'll be at the Mountain."
We exchanged glances again, but we decided together. We might as well go through. It wasn't likely to do anything close to killing us, and at worst, we could just recover from it afterward. As we stepped into the tubed hallway, the rings started to rotate around us, and a voice came on over a speaker.
"Recognized, BlackFire, G09, FrostShadow G10."
We stepped further in, and in the blink of an eye, the Batcave vanished. So too did any form of shielding that we had set up. The world disappeared into an ocean of emotion.
What a disaster.
- Location
- USA
Nice been waiting a while on seeing BlackFire and FrostShadow getting their own story.
I think folks will really like where this goes.
And in other news, ch18 is being edited right now. And there's another surprise, something that's a bit of a fad among some Tanya crossover writers.
I think folks will really like where this goes.
And in other news, ch18 is being edited right now. And there's another surprise, something that's a bit of a fad among some Tanya crossover writers.
Chapter 18: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 1
- Location
- USA
The War Chronicles of a Little Demon
Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 18: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 1
Gibbs tapped my plate as the last step of the unofficial ritual and gave me a thumbs up. After I returned the gesture, the restraints retraced, and I stood from the arming chair. A traitorous part of me felt that it was good to be overseeing a mission again, to be wearing my Polyxo Flight Armor after so long outside my machine shell. Even if I was wearing it in the forward bay of a Household Fleet RP Carrier, a sufferance to any Legion officer.
Fortunately, I had already regained my airship legs, so even with the weight of the suit I didn't sway as I strode over to the cadet squadron.
I'd allowed them some Ritualista help, just enough to make the process slow instead of plodding, as well as to make sure no cadet overlooked a step in the preflight procedure. Thankfully, the cadets were very diligent in their checks; I made sure to emphasize the importance of detail in their training. I gave an expansive smile as the cream of Silvan nobility worked with what looked like quiet professionalism. Their tension was admirably low. Despite that, the air was still thick with their focused nervousness, a pungent odor almost smothered under the expected smells of etching compounds, incense, and the ozone tang of energized fuel cells and munitions.
After nodding to GreyDawn who had just finished suiting up, I clapped to regain the attention of the cadets. "Tonight, the Fleet has been generous enough to act as your transport and even provide a free meal. I'll be brief; you're here because you've started to prove yourselves to no longer be an embarrassment to the Imperial Legions. I haven't had to use the hose in over a month. That said, we will be doing carrier operations. Remember your training, follow Flight Ops' orders for launch and recovery, and you will do fine."
Short speech over, I stepped aside, unconcerned. I knew all of these cadets could perform carrier landings, at least on a sedate airship circling over an airbase. This was by no means a combat deployment, but there was a bit more risk.
"Are you giving them the soft-soap?" GreyDawn gruffly asked as she strode up. As my tallest Legion Flier, she cut an imposing figure, especially when encased in advanced Ritual Plate. "Just getting off the ship is the start of your night, girls."
Pulivia looked up from Lavish's armor and handed the checklist to a purple-skinned cadet to give a double check. "Have the training mission parameters changed?" the jade-haired cadet asked.
I gave her a thin smile. That was not the most uncommon training trick. Missions would change, often at the last moment, sometimes mid-mission. However, throwing too many surprises defeated the purpose of training. "I may have had a little wager with a Fleet Pilot. It turns out you're not the only training squadron on this airship tonight."
"What are the stakes, Ma'am?" Lavish asked as she lifted up an arm to allow the feeds of her weapons to be connected and fitted out. Her Flight, Third, was configured in strike mode. I eyed the conformal flasks bolted onto her suit which contained the bracingly powerful alchemically-boosted evocation charges. They were quiescent now and quite stable, but they still represented quiet but potent well of power, contained for now.
Part of me was... worried about giving a Senator's daughter enough evocative power to blow up a capital ship, but so far she had denied me a sufficient failure to kick her out of the cadet program. After her punishment had turned into a rather diligent analysis and credible presentation on the finer points of Polydora subsystems, Lavish had surprisingly maintained her new focus moving forward. Maybe getting SwiftSapphire's autograph to give to her little sister helped in its way. The MuArc test pilot did have some promotional images of her standing by the Pinnacle test suit.
Which, in a way, made me even more paranoid. I pushed those feelings down, as my smile grew. "Well, I'm no gambler, so..."
"She asked for my help," GreyDawn stated. "And I decided to go with something that would be very motivating to a gaggle of young cadets."
"The tradition is to wager spirits. However, I have little personal use for liquor," I remarked. "But... I can always use more cadets to clean the deck and my armor."
"Maybe if you embarrass the Legions with your flying, you can become credible Fleet maids," GreyDawn added in pure career centurion dry cynicism.
I couldn't help but laugh at the expressions of horror on these spoiled nobles. "I think you picked the right stakes for my wager, well done," I bowed my horns to GreyDawn.
"I can't take all the credit," GreyDawn nodded to the rest of our Flight. I smiled at my two Vs.
"It was easy," VioletBlood smirked. "I just picked a task that would horrify the most insular, I'm sorry, most cultured members among our fellow peers."
I thoughtfully nodded.
" That you think cleaning up on an airship is something to be ashamed of, well... that's punishment enough. After all, anybody who finds a week's worth of menial tasks horrifying, well... I'd hate to see how they would take living in a forward post deep in a stinking jungle for months on end." My baroness flashed her fangs at the cadets, almost all of whom were older than her, casually reasserting her dominance.
Once my Flight was finally ready, I motioned for my Ritualista to help the maintainers check off the cadet squadron. I also wanted them to triple-check the settings in the cadet's instruments and display suite. Their scrying intake and data compositing had to be set to training mode.
Over a dozen maintainers helped make the processing go far more speedy, but I still had a chance to step off to the side to talk with GreyDawn. There was an alcove conveniently open into the forward side of the middle port RP maintenance bay out of the way of foot traffic and the maneuvering of carts of munitions, fuel cells, and parts.
I left VioletBlood in charger of supervising the Cadets. They were not the only ones getting training.
"Concerns?" GreyDawn quietly asked.
"Maybe not the ones you're thinking of," I murmured.
"You're not worried that Pulivia's Flight has charged Lance flasks?"
"If I was really worried about that I would have grounded them." I exhaled as my tail curled then straightened. "No, they have to start using live ammunition. It's that or kick them out."
"They have made progress these last couple months," GreyDawn allowed.
"I know they've gotten a lot more suit time than you ever did before you got deployed."
My senior pilot shrugged her armored shoulders. "You're right, Ma'am. This is the cadet squadron we have and they've been cleared. I'm pleasantly surprised at how few washouts we've had."
I nodded. The cadet squadron had two voluntary washouts in the aftermath of my introductory speech two months ago. One had almost immediately taken up my offer to write them a letter of recommendation, if she withdrew from the program.
The second washout was Cornelia SpiralHorn, the daughter of an Armis Legate who had an incredibly unfortunate problem for a woud-be Ritual Plate Pilot: motion sickness.
The nausea, vertigo and other issues only came when she was under extraordinary stress, such as when ordnance exploded outside of her suit. And Visha thought the artillery training was just a hazing ritual! We had tried to help her overcome her problem providing the cadet with special tutoring, counseling, and medical evaluation. Ultimately, we had to make the call.
She was transferred to something more in line with her mother's branch. I had duly sent the letters of recommendation, and one of consolation to Armis Legate SpiralHorn. The letter to Cornelia's instructor at the Castra Frontier's Legion Armor School outlined her potential and her risks. Though if a tank rolled over one of the crew, getting sick was the least of their worries.
As sad as that was, those were the easy cases. I had been forced to dismiss one of the remaining cadets from the program. GreyDawn made a bit of money off of Visha, who had bet that no one would get ejected. However, GreyDawn lost a few aurei to LoveBlood because it was not Cadet RoseTalon.
I had managed to avoid being forced to mete any floggings, but the daughter of an executive at Standard Alchemical Products, whose second cousin happened to own the house neighboring my Duchess's Silvan townhouse, came very close.
Lavish had actually been the one to prevent the insolent girl from challenging me to a duel. Another reason to be upset with Cadet RoseTalon I suppose.
"You're thinking about Domitia Oesus?" GreyDawn ventured.
"Am I that obvious?"
"You are growling, Ma'am."
I laughed. "At least I just made one noble enemy, and Lady Domitia isn't even landed gentry."
"No Ma'am, her family merely owns one of the largest chemical processing and fuel extraction conglomerates on Diyu."
"And now she's in the Fleet learning how to pilot a Hasta bomber."
GreyDawn's expression and emotions made it blatant that she was skeptical if someone who did not have the attitude to conform to the standards of a Legion Flier would be able to make it as a Fleet Pilot.
"She will start out training to be a co-pilot, and if she's successful with that, she will have fewer opportunities for her poor judgment to lead her into trouble." Attitude aside, it was a better fit; Domitia could attune to spirits and had taken a lot of expensive tutoring, but in terms of multi-tasking capability she was one of the weakest fliers in my class. Though in more desperate times she likely would have been flogged and thrown into Scouting Branch to fill out the complement of a Venture scout airship watching some backwater colony.
"Yes, and if she challenges you to a duel once she becomes a qualified Ventus Centurion?"
I shrugged. "It would be tedious but I could manage."
"And if Domitia purchases her own Hasta bomber and a pair of Fujiwara Torpedoes? Or maybe she simply loads her bomb bays with five tons of Vel missiles?"
My tail stilled. "That would be..."
"Ruinously expensive," GreyDawn's eye glinted. "But if she still holds a grudge after earning her Ventus qualification and then decides to liquidate her inheritance for a bird and dozens and dozens of missiles, well, that would be challenging."
I just stared. "That is crazy." Such a duel would be absurd, but a Hasta bomber could replace two Fujiwaras it normally carried with half a dozen pods full of Vel missiles. The exchange of range for capacity had some real potential and turned a Torpedo bomber into an air defense platform with nearly two hundred missiles. It was an anti RP concept we were not the first to explore, nor the last in all probability.
"Honestly, it's a smarter move on her part than buying her own RP suit, getting tutoring, joining a mercenary guild and biding her time. I would take odds on you against any sell-sword Pilot."
"But a bomber full of anti-air missiles is another story?" I asked while pondering. The Hasta had some limitations in a local air defense role; it was designed to fire standoff weapons, not clouds of relatively short range missiles. However, that very missile loadout would make it a somewhat thorny target, even more so if it were escorted by RP suits providing additional protection and targeting data. Something I was counting on for tonight.
GreyDawn cracked a smile. "As you say, it's absurd."
"Lovely." I rubbed my face. "No cadet, current, former, traitorous or otherwise, is not my primary concern with this training mission"
"Location?"
"That's it."
"We are over a hundred miles from the border," GreyDawn mused.
"So we have a few minutes' warning. And the target location is well within Shoreline Province, but we're going to be over Lacus Superum."
"You're worried about the cadets accidentally leaving the training area?"
"They'll have to really get far off course to enter Elenese airspace, but I don't want to be surprised if someone starts to... wander."
GreyDawn nodded. "Understood."
"And I do mean wander, they're going to be under a lot of pressure and juggling a lot of balls, and things could slip their mind."
"Drifting that far of course?"
"Doubtful, but that's why I want eyes to catch anything before it becomes a problem. We'll punish them for any failures later."
"You don't sound very confident about your wager," a Fleet Pilot said playfully as she strode up to us, clad in her Polyxo suit. Primus Centurion Horatia Wencesla was several times my senior age-wise, but still about my height.
There was a smirk on the woman's finely delicate features, but her green eyes were warm. "It's good to see you, Countess," she then bowed her horns in greeting to GreyDawn.
"Primus," I nodded to the Fleet Pilot, "and this time, we meet under pleasant circumstances."
She laughed. "Yes, there are worse things than babysitting cadets."
"You haven't seen ours, Ma'am," GreyDawn murmured.
Wencesla shrugged. "Plenty of prissy little fops go into the Fleet. Maybe more, given our reputation for softer racks, better food, and no mud. You did agree to wager against my lot."
"Not to mention the prettier uniforms," I stated. Wencesla was likely looking at her own squadron command. While she was much older than me, she had only a decade more experience as a Pilot, that did put her at a more typical advancement rate.
"Yes, Fleet whites are spiffy." Her green eyes sparkled. "You have concerns?"
"We should keep an extra eye on our cadets, and be mindful of our location."
"We will be over water for most of the training," Wencesla nodded. "Border issues aside, if one of them has to ditch it'll be harder to splash down than land in some forest."
"Depends on the forest," GreyDawn stated.
"Shoreline Province's woodlands are pretty tame," I noted. "Lot of farming, old growths are further south anyway. The coastal lowlands would be pretty fine to walk out of.
"Provided you survive the crash," Wencesla's tone was quite dry.
"Obviously, if you don't survive, you no cause for worry." I glanced back to the arming chairs and caught Visha's eye. She gave a thumbs up.
"Impressive skill in suiting up," Wencesla said observing my Cadets.
"To get them to keep from dawdling, incentives have been used during that module of their training, with greater penalties for mistakes," I gave a toothy smile, "while most of the equipment in a Maintenance Bay is not quite waterproof, field expedient arming chairs absolutely are."
Wencesla blinked. "Did you turn fire hoses on them?"
"Of course not," I said, horrified. "That would be a waste of critical damage control equipment."
"Not to mention the water pressure might damage something," GreyDawn stated.
"But tapping into a hangar's grey water return line, on the other hand..." I shrugged.
Wencesla shook her head. A moment later one of her Flight came up to her and said that her cadets were ready.
"Shall we go to the briefing room and tell the girls what they're really going to be doing tonight?" I suggested.
++++++++++
We were on the Mellona class medium carrier HFV Hornet. As Ritual Plate carriers went, I was rather fond of the Mellona class. Capable of deploying and maintaining a light wing of six Squadrons, it had better facilities than the Damocles light carrier or the tiny Kolibri patrol carrier. At the same time, it was faster and far more common than the higher capacity Nova fleet carriers or the hulking Avalon heavy carriers.
Much of the Hornet was set aside for this training mission, including the briefing rooms which Wencesla, myself, and our Flights strode into. Unlike some of the frankly ridiculous tiered auditoriums on an Avalon, this was just a room with several rows of seating, enough for forty occupants all told. Though I suppose in the Avalon class's defense, when you had a crew of over three thousand supporting an RP Air Group of nearly four hundred Pilots, faculties with a higher capacity were useful. They could double as recreational amenities for one.
The two oversized cadet squadrons only took up the first third of the seating. Despite the chairs being reinforced to bear the weight of Ritual Plate to a pilot the cadets chose to stand in their Polydora suits.
"We'll make this brief," Wencesla stated as a map appeared on the wall projection behind her. It was a diagram of the part of central Lacus Superum we were flying over. The sprawling great lake bordered four Great Houses and had many islands and fjord-like arms. There was a rippling groan from the cadets as they digested the symbols on the map, specifically the ones denoting targets and opposing forces.
"As some of you have feared, there will be a slight change in tonight's plans." Wencesla almost sounded apologetic.
"At least this time there won't be any artillery," I joked. I smiled at the hearty laughs from my cadets while the Fleet girls glanced about and could at most muster nervous chuckles.
"Quite," Wencesla nodded to me. It was nice to have someone I did not have to look up to. "Your target locations are only notional. It will be up to you to find the actual spot. Please note that the targets are still within the clearly demarcated confines of the Adria Testing Range; both the land and water parts."
"For those of you with itchy tails I have good news and bad news," I gave a smile. "You will have to face opposition while you take out your targets. Because this is a live-fire exercise we will be using both enemies simulated on your instruments and display as well as training drones."
There was some murmuring.
"Now, since these remote operated golems were provided by the Fleet it's not my budget that gets it if you knock them out of the sky," I continued, noting that while my bloodthirsty nobles relished the chance to destroy some flying enemy, any flying enemy, Cadet Pulivia was thoughtfully studying the map. Hopefully, she realized that no one had said what kind of training drones were being used.
House BlackSky had a large variety of training aides, mostly designed to augment opposing force training and simulating enemy capabilities, if not in full performance then in areas of maneuvering and relative-observability. Several shortfalls in the drone's capacity could be made up for by tweaking and supplementing a Pilot's display. Modern BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate was designed for data sharing, which gave great training potential.
It also was a vulnerability if our comm systems were compromised. That was why a suit's own scrying intake was processed separately and took primacy when displaying data. This was also why a Ritualista had to manually change settings to enable the training mode, simulated enemies would still be marked as such, but they would not be filtered as spurious.
Wencesla gave a prim smile. "These are target drones, destroying them is anticipated. However, if you destroy anything other than designated targets then you will face the full weight of the BlackSkyvian military law."
The apprehension grew on the cadets. Giving a warm, toothy smile to reassure them I gestured to the map. "The entirety of the live-fire portion will take place within the bounds of the Adria Testing Range. You will have plenty of buffer between the range and the border to the joint airspace zone." I pointed to the wide strip that ran east to west across the middle of the great lake. By agreement of the four Houses bordering the lake, it was an area cleared for free air transit. There was a similar waterborne trade corridor for shipping, both passenger and cargo, down on the lake's surface.
"If your navigation system fails you will contact Flight Ops and one of the instructor Flights. You will then drop out of the mission. If your comms system fails you will use your warning lights to signal distress, and drop out of the training exercise. If you see a fellow Pilot in distress you will report it to Flight Ops. The Hornet will have a Search and Recovery team on standby.
"Let us go over your approach corridors and what you'll know about your targets," Wencesla adjusted the projection and a couple vectors appeared.
"You will have your pick of a number of cleared approaches into the testing range." This time my smile had more teeth. "I strongly suggest that you use the opportunity to pick an approach path that maximizes your ability to find your targets and to evade the enemy forces."
"Speaking of which, here is what we can tell you," Wencesla said, beginning her explanation of the variety of simulated opposing forces. Most were second line Elenese airborne assets. That still allowed for a good mix of Ritual Plate and airframes, both golem and piloted.
Noting the cadets' disquiet at being outnumbered and dealing with enemy patrols, I took the baton. "We cannot give you locations of your strike targets because they are moving."
There was a sigh from the cadets but the map had made that much clear. Sharing a glance, Wencesla and myself decided to let that pass. Pilots were allowed some small measure to, quietly, grumble when the Brass Horns gave them frustrating orders.
"There is a squadron of old remote-operated Yew Patrol boats motoring in the Testing range. You will find these small craft, which will be marked in the following way," I updated the display to show the cross hatch paint job that had been applied to the boats, "forward your scrying data to Flight Ops. You will hold your fire until you receive positive confirmation. "
Looking cocky, RoseTalon gave a confident nod.
"Yes cadets, your two strike-equipped Flights have more than enough Lance strikes to take out this many small unwarded boats. Please ruminate on that. Any questions?"
Wencesla shot me a mildly surprised look.
Cadet Optio Lady Pulivia VibrantFang lifted a hand. One of the more promising cadets, she was a third daughter to a Duchess with considerable holdings in Lentia Province, if I remembered correctly. "If we lose all of our Lance-equipped Polydora, will it be possible to proxy hit the targets using the weapons on our other suits?"
I nodded. "That will not count as a destruction of the target, but for the purposes of this exercise, enough Ballista hits it will count as a mobility kill which will be a partial score."
"Any others?" Wencelsa asked in a tone that indicated she would strongly prefer if there were no more questions. She glanced at the clock on the bulkhead. "Outstanding. Everyone up and make their way to the Launchers."
"Legion Fliers to the port Launchers, Fleet Pilots to the starboard," I ordered, feeling a bit generous by not calling them cadets.
The two squadrons slipped their helmets on and helped get the latches and catches around their horns. Though I did note that my cadets were a bit smoother in that evolution.
Another nice aspect of the Mellona class's design was that the walk from the pilot briefing rooms to the Launchers was rather simple and could be done without overly blocking up the corridors, even if it did require going around a Torpedo room.
I had my Flight split up. Each of us stood before one of the port Launchers and preformed one last check on the cadets and their suits. A visual inspection would only detect the most egregious of failures in fitting out, but it also gave me a chance to make sure the instructors were getting valid telemetry from their suits.
Satisfied, I gave a nod to the daughter of the head of the Mason and Runewright Guild as she stepped past me, across the hazard stripes and into the launch tube. A Fleet rating checked to make sure her feet were secured into the catapult's shuttle.
"Lovely night," I said as Cadet RoseTalon stepped up. "Lift your arms up," I commanded her so I could inspect their articulation for any disconnects. "Do a pilé."
"What?" Even wearing a full mask I knew Lavish was confused.
"A dip: turn out your legs at the hip joints, then bend your knees over your toes. Mind your balance, but try to bend deeply while keeping your spine straight," I stated as the haughty cadet complied.
"Ah, a mobility check," she nodded after I confirmed she could stand back up.
"And a basic ballet move," I flatly stated. She would have known this if she had taken my advice and signed up for the War College ballet troupe. But, that a senator's daughter was not familiar with this part of high culture was interesting in and of itself.
Before she could even think about a retort to cover up her faux pas of showing cultural ignorance, the Fleet rating waved at her.
I slapped her on the armored shoulder. "Go, we don't have all night."
Still confused, Lavish stomped over to the catapult.
I focused on giving a final check of the next cadet. There were only a couple more before everyone would be in the air. And even Lavish could ride a launcher.
Soon it was down to just my Flight. We slipped on our helmets and went up to the launchers. I linked my comms with Flight Ops and the voice of the fleet officer in the port forward observation overseeing launch operations came in. "Diamond Flight, you have a clearance to launch."
"Confirm Ops, how is Training Squadron Two looking?" I asked more out of camaraderie and tradition. I could see the status of the four Flights of Legion cadets on my display, as well as Wencelsa's girls.
"They're still in the air," Flight Ops dryly replied as the Fleet rating checked that my boots were secured into the catapult's shuttle.
I reflexively tensed and locked myself into the bladed bent-forward position as I spun up my Zephyr. My wings strained. There was a countdown, the lights flashed, and suddenly I was shooting down the launch tube.
My Zephyr added to the acceleration and I shot smoothly out into the night.
The carrier vanished behind me as I formed up with my Flight. The water was deceptively calm, far below our boots. The larger moon, Emuria, hung nearly full far above our helmets, while her consort Lantia was but a small crescent peeping out across the sky.
"With the boffins back on Hornet handling the opposing force we'll be taking care of our cadets," I said over the Flight Channel.
"Each of us still taking a Flight to monitor?" VioletBlood asked.
"Correct," I glanced over my display. One instructor proctoring a Flight of four would allow for her to keep an eye on their performance. "But we won't be splitting up."
"You don't want to have us hovering right over their wings?" Visha asked.
"More that she doesn't want us to split up into lone units," GreyDawn suggested.
"That's correct, at worst we'll split up into pairs, but even on a training mission I don't want us to get into the habit of flying alone," I said, then switched to the command channel. "Diamond Actual to Jade Actual. Wencelsa, how are we looking?"
"I trust you can read a display as well as I, Countess," Wencelsa dryly replied.
"They're doing things by the book," I allowed, double-checking the formations the two squadrons had taken. Each had three Flights of fighter-configured Polydora and one Flight strike-configured. Both Squadrons had fallen into a staggered escort box with the strike Flight in the center with two Flights running ahead at different altitudes and the last Flight running close-protection.
"Safe, uninspired, and easy to maintain." Wencelsa paused. "But that's why the formation's in the book. Those are all positives."
"Most of the time," I agreed. "At least they're staying in the corridor and trying to scout."
"Leading elements in that formation are too tight for scouting," Wencelsa noted.
"They'll learn or they won't," I noted with a verbal shrug. There were other solutions. They could reduce the escorts to a pair of Flights and send one Flight out as scouts, but that had limited coverage even if they split the Flight into two pairs. So much of command boiled down to managing finite resources.
"Flight Ops confirm status of OpFor?" Wencelsa asked. Our displays showed the locations of the various drones, but if the staff back on Hornet were not ready to play the simulation, then this would be a very easy exercise indeed for our cadets.
"OpFor team is ready. They're confirming uplink right now," the smooth voice of the dispatcher responded.
"Interesting," I noted. My display updated as the marks denoting where the enemy Ritual Plate would be appeared, but only part of my attention was on that.
"Oh?" Wencelsa paused. "You're not looking at the sims." She got a bit of playful irritation. "Your people aren't passing hints to Cadet SkySpear are they?"
"Not unless yours are passing notes to your cadets," I lightly replied.
Cadet Optio Baroness SkySpear, daughter of a Navarch in command of a Grand Fleet Emuria formation consisting of multiple Landing Defense Flotillas and a Bombardment Flotilla, was the squadron commander for tonight. Pulivia VibrantFang was her second in command and was also in charge of the strike Flight.
And it seemed that one of them, or both, had ordered the forward Flights of their squadron further out and in a broader formation that covered more airspace.
My Flight and Wencelsa's were largely focused on our respective cadet Squadrons. Both entered the Adria Testing Range's airspace without issue and started running a search pattern. Reassuringly, neither group of cadets went on a direct vector to the last known location of their mission targets.
They swung around in two formations that, despite the competition, were mutually supporting. They were a bit more cautious than I expected for their experience level, but it was a balancing act. The more circuitous, or cautious, their route made it less likely they would be jumped, but that meant their mission would take that much longer, giving the OpFor more opportunities to find them.
And the enemy was going to find them, which was a whole other factor. If you knew it was going to be a contested mission, then positioning was vital.
"They've detected the Svarog Flights running picket," I noted as the forward two of my Cadet Flights pulled back into a more protective positioning as an equal number of, simulated, Elenese light anti-air Ritual Plate pursued them.
"First blood goes to yours," Wencelsa noted as SkySpear's wingwoman took out a Svarog. The Fleet officer then gave a whistle when she saw the rest of SkySpear's personal Flight pin the other three Svarogs with a chasing engagement. The other escorting cadets dashed over, plunged down, and cut through the virtual enemies. Those suits cleared off the cadet's displays as the hits were registered by Flight Ops
"Well done," Wencelsa admitted.
"They had a numerical and positional advantage. And the early Svarogs lacked the hardening necessary to compensate for their lack of higher-envelope maneuverability," I said, not at all defensively. The Svarog was not a bad design, as a ground attack suit. It was relatively inexpensive, but the first iterations had been pressed into a supporting anti-air role that they struggled with.
"I have the boffins simulating current Svarogs, ones that aren't death traps," Wencelsa stated wistfully.
I laughed, not at all nervously. "One moment." I switched over to the channels for my cadets' First and Second Flights. "Commendable work girls. Those were peer level suits you went up against. But don't get all fat-tailed about it, you did outnumber them."
"Thank you, Ma'am. Understood," SkySpear's voice clearly came out, it might have been a bit strained as she kept her composure. Well, she was managing a whole heavy Squadron. Their channel was free of idle chatter. Good, the comms discipline lessons might have stuck.
I switched back to my Flight channel and there was a pregnant silence.
"That was a... colorful motivational message," Visha remarked. "Brief but turgid."
I blinked but before I could reply...
"This isn't the first time the Countess has used her tail to motivate a poor baroness cadet!" VioletBlood wailed, humorously overwrought except for the hint of prickly jealousy.
"It was very inspiring, Ma'am. Just bursting with the proud traditions of the Imperial Legions," GreyDawn drawled.
"I didn't use my tail!" I gasped.
"Don't worry,' GreyDawn assured. "You're a Legionary Flier, being a bit crass can be forgiven, especially in the heat of the moment."
"Maybe tutoring lessons twice a week at Mima Lumina Academy isn't enough," VioletBlood mused.
"That's enough, LoveBlood," I tried not to growl. In abstract, I understood the role of etiquette lessons for young nobles, but I was a Centurion and I had gotten plenty of cultural refinement as part of becoming a Soloist in the Ballet Troupe. What was the point of becoming a ballerina if you couldn't use that to prove you were plenty ladylike?
"Yes, Primus Centurion Countess," she soberly stated.
I let that slide and focused my attention on the tactical map.
The Fleet Cadets had taken out their own Svarog Flight, but the OpFor had gotten quite close to their Strike assets and it had taken the Cadets multiple passes with their escort units to take them out. The problem was that even with their Veils up and a reasonably large amount of airspace, the OpFor commander would know something was wrong.
The locations where two of her Flights were destroyed was a clear indication of an oncoming attack. And hence, both Cadet Squadrons dropped in altitude and slowed their speeds increased their Veils. It was a fair plan to break contact and try to relocate.
The sum of the OpFor's simulated scrying intakes would show there were no nearby enemy units, when they scanned the cadet's vicinity, but they knew they were out there. If the OpFor had a scrying specialist unit like the Mokosh, the cadets could still be tracked, Veiled or otherwise, even if the rough Elenese equivalent of our Occultia was relatively rare. House Elena preferred to use the Yaryla whenever they could.
A mid-sized aircraft with a crew of three, the Yaryla obviously had a far larger footprint than the Mokosh and required a runway, albeit a short one, but it had a greater endurance than a Ritual Plate, and was the less expensive option.
The Cadet Squadrons raced over the waves. My students had taken the leading edge position and seemed like they wanted to push as fast as they could without compromising their stealth. I knew they would accelerate to full dash speed once they decided that they had broken contact.
Meanwhile, Wencelsa's girls were more cautious and from the way their formation had spread just a bit more and had taken the lower altitude slot, I could see they were being more cautious, as if they could sneak up to their targets for a surprise strike.
As far as plans went, it wasn't entirely wrongheaded, but if they wanted to work in cooperation with the Legionary students they needed to coordinate their overall doctrine: speed or stealth. The rest of my Pilots were busy evaluating their assigned trainee Flights so I checked in on SkySpear's channel.
"It makes more sense if we work this way," SkySpear stated.
"But what about the bet?" The Fleet Cadet paused. "If we do this, aren't you kinda throwing the wager?"
"DarkStar's Blood! I don't care if I have to play maid on an airship! Do you think the Countess really cares? The mission is key and the odds are not in our favor."
There was a pause. "Fine."
SkySpear's tone softened. "Balbina, you already want to go with the cautious strategy. If I've learned one thing is: make the best decision you can, the quickest you can and then commit fully.
"Right," the Fleet Cadet sounded more confident. "We'll separate, but take a curving approach; that'll minimize the separation with my Squadron being slower."
"Fine," SkySpear laughed.
I gave a thin smile. It sounded like they were embracing their differences in tactics. The Legion Cadets would go in fast and loud, while the Fleet would sneak in. It was not a terrible plan. One Squadron would provide a diversion and depending on the attacking force the other Squadron could reinforce or dash to the target boats.
However, there was a flaw to the cadets' plan: two of the drones flying out there were standing in proxy for a formation of Yaryla recon aircraft. The cadets' Veils were less effective than they had assumed. The question was how the cadets would react when it was clear that their Poyldora were being picked up at greater range than they expected.
The OpFor had repositioned their recon assets, regained contact with the intruding formations, and was vectoring in interceptors.... now. The instructor display updated as a squadron of Perun strike suits accelerated towards both cadet squadrons. That would be a bad force balance for the simulated RP, except the Opfor had support. Two other drones were filling in for a pair of Kupala air-defense bombers.
Something like a smaller, greater-ranged Hasta, the Kupala was mostly a platform for carrying anti-air missiles, though it could work in a direct bomber role. It had a crew of two and had about two-thirds the payload capacity of a Hasta.
Its main function was to provide extra firepower for forward air units who sent back targeting data. It could fight by itself, but that came with far greater exposure which was rather risky for an airframe optimized as a long-endurance, ordnance transport.
"Everyone keep an eye on your cadets," I said over my Flight channel. Back on the Hornet, all of this was being recorded. Our presence was to give direct impressions, notes, and as a quick reaction in case anything went wrong. We also just happened to be between the cadets and the nearest border out of the Testing Range.
It worked the other way, just in case some aircraft tried to wander into restricted airspace. And while most of the traffic was to the north in the joint transit corridor, the sky was rarely truly empty.
"If mine even get through this," VioletBlood noted. She had been assigned to the Flight with the strike-equipped Polyxo that had Pulivia, Lavish, and two rather promising cousins, both from a ranching concern that was one of the larger land-owners in Rundani Province.
"They've still got good escorts," I stated a second too soon as a Pilot in Flight Two was shot down. "Visha?"
"Already on it," she said before switching to the Pilot's channel to give her the heading to exit the Testing Range and return to the Hornet. They would be vectored with the pair of Fleet cadets who had been knocked out shortly before them.
At least it was not too far of a journey, since we were still in the more northern expanses of the Adria Testing Range. Realizing they had all been detected, the two squadrons formed up, seemingly as they spotted the Kupala bombers.
I switched back to SkySpear's channel. "Yes, Pulvia I am risking your Flight," the cadet-leader stated with just a bit of a frustrated edge in her tone. "But you're our longest ranged weapons and if you don't take out those bombers then we'll never make it to the target boats. Execute."
Good. Someone was thinking. "Balbina I need you to send your strike Flight out, with escort," SkySpear transmitted to the head of the Fleet cadet Squadron. "Transmitting you coordinates now. We've got a window before the Kupalas can launch their missiles."
"I'll send one Flight to do close escort for them and commit the other two to help you finish the Perun RP," came the strained reply. It sounded like she was pulling a fair G load. Glancing at the display did confirm her suit was doing an impressive maneuver to avoid being bracketed by simulated fire.
Despite their simulated opponents being an older version of the Perun, it was still a strike suit, which meant that they had a fair bit of range, even with their lower-powered higher capacity loadout. But an early heavy strike suit versus fighter-configured Polydora was a reasonable challenge, in my opinion at least.
"Break... Break. Break!" SkySpear shouted as her squadron split in twain, half committed to keeping the enemy RP engaged while the rest dashed off to take out those bombers. The Fleet Cadets were not quite as smooth when they executed a similar maneuver.
It was a bold plan and one of their better plans for dealing with an enemy with superior fire support. And it was not like SkySpear dismissed the concept that the enemy bombers would have their own escorts. She sent both Third and Fourth Flights.
Which was reasonable, as there was a Flight of Svarog protecting the two Kupala air-defense bombers.
Pulivia had command of the two Flight detachment and showed no hesitation. She actually accelerated her Flight and fired a pair of Lances at the Svarogs while speeding at max velocity towards the bombers, which turned slightly and the display was suddenly full of a stream of virtual missiles.
Losses started to come in for both cadet teams. Mostly on their run against the bombers but the forces left to finish off the Prun Squadron had a couple casualties. But then six Lances from the strike-Polydoras stabbed out and blasted apart the two drones. The explosions were satisfying and the tactical display shifted just a tiny bit to respond to the loss of their scrying input.
And VioletBlood was directing Optio Cadet Lavish RoseTalon back to the carrier. In Lavish's defense she did score the best hit on the second bomber. At the cost of getting closer and holding a flight path that was a bit too predictable.
The remaining missiles were easier to evade as they had to fall back on their onboard guidance. Soon, both formations of virtual enemies had been mopped up and a pair of no longer over-strength cadet squadrons reunited.
"Two bombers in the drink," Pulivia proudly reported.
"Outstanding work, Flight Leader," SkySpear replied with perhaps a touch too much gusto but I could not blame her for having her blood up.
"Ma'am, I suggest that we proceed and find the targets with best speed," Pulivia suggested.
"Oh?" the Cadet squadron commander for this exercise asked.
"The enemy was still on us, I don't think we ever dropped off their displays," Pulivia suggested. "That means one of two things."
SkySpear sighed. "And our Countess is tough, but she's not a cheater."
"Not with an evaluation," Pulivia agreed. Well, that was reassuring.
"Right, good call Flight Leader," SkySpear switched to the other Flight leaders and patched into her equivalent on the Fleet Squadron. "Everyone, it looks like the enemy has some long range, or low observable, scrying systems. It has been suggested that we make best speed to the targets given all the remaining enemy assets have to be well aware of where we are."
"I.... agree," a gasping voice came in from the Fleet end. Checking the identification, I saw that she was the second in command of the Fleet Squadron. Ah, yes, her superior had been taken out in that last action. Well, learning how to take sudden command was part of the training.
"Everyone take a quick drink," Pulvia suggested.
"Thank you, Flight Leader," SkySpear sounded a bit chastised. "Alright, here's the course. It's not the most direct but it gives us a good time-savings and with the right formation, we can try to punch through whatever they'll put up."
"But what about the competition?" a Fleet Flight leader asked.
"It's a distraction, a head game to see how we react," Puliva dismissed. "Do you have any idea how expensive this test is? Do you really think people like our instructors really care about some bet involving us playing maids?"
"Agreed," SkySpear stated. "You have your orders Optios, get to it! Fleet Leader, I've folded my Second and Fourth Flights together into one unit. I suggest you do something similar with your losses."
I gave a thin smile. Their plan was direct. But they had shown a fair skill at coordination and now were able to take casualties without shattering. At least simulated ones.
"It is good that they have such an inspiring instructor," GreyDawn noted over my Flight's channel.
"You think just because the Flight you're babysitting doesn't exist that you don't have any work to do?" I asked with a touch of humor.
"The Legions' capacity to create work is infinite," GreyDawn groused.
"I think they've got heart!" Visha chirped.
"That's only because we haven't dropped the hammer on them," VioletBlood purred.
"Diamond Actual. Diamond Actual. This is Flight Ops," a smooth voice said on the override transmission.
"This is Diamond," I stated and reflexively went over the map. For all they had been fighting, the cadets looked to be in no actual danger. A few were actually well on their way back to the carrier. Was there a problem where they couldn't land on the Hornet? Couldn't they be diverted to one of the escorting airships then? Other than the remaining drones and us, the sky seemed clear. There was some traffic north of us in the transit corridor. Oh.
"A patrol from one of our Venture scouts detected possible observer craft at the following coordinates," the dispatchers stated in the same tone as if she were giving me a weather check or telling me that an enemy battle group had teleported in.
"Confirm. That's on the border?" I inquired.
"Yes, Diamond Flight. The scrying intake shows they're moving in a rough racetrack pattern. Our estimate is a light Elenese Recon Squadron consisting of a Flight of Mokosh RP plus escorts."
"Understood. Thanks for the heads up Flight Ops."
There was a pause. "Actually Diamond Flight, Praefectus Commodore HoofBridge requests that you go out and investigate."
"She does," I stated. Lady Eliza Bellus HoofBridge captained the HFV Hornet, and while she was not directly in my chain of command, for the purposes of this joint training mission her requests had weight.
I sipped some water. "Will the training exercise be canceled?"
"No. Flight Ops is vectoring our Combat Air Patrol and launching out standby Flights to provide more support. Scouting assets from a second Venture are also being repositioned with a detachment of escort elements."
"Understood. Diamond Flight will investigate the possible incursion," I declared, putting emphasis on that word. I wanted to make it clear on Hornet's flight record that I was not going out with the intention of engaging the Elenese forces. It would take a little bit of time for one of the Hornet's escorting Kolibri class corvettes to get into position, but I wasn't too proud to take Fleet backup.
"That's what the Praefectus Lady wanted to hear," Flight Ops said, a bit of color entering the dispatcher's voice.
++++++++++
Raging against my fate, I gave a tiny internal scream. Of course some aggressive hard-charging Fleet Officer would throw the Heroine Countess, the youngest bearer of the Preserver Crown, at some Elenese spies to make them flee, tails between their legs.
After taking a few calming breaths, I exhaled and switched channels. "Jade Actual. Jade Actual."
"Flight Ops was also informing me," Wencelsa stated. "My Flight will take over proctoring the rest of the training mission. We're in the endgame anyway."
"Thanks, we'll go over the results afterwards?" I asked.
"Will do. I do wish my Flight got requested as well."
I made a noncommittal noise. "Well, with all this chaos and with the final challenges for our students, more of them will be flying back to the Hornet. It would not be imprudent if your flight moves a bit further North to make sure none of them... strayed on their return flight."
Wencelsa laughed. "Understood, Countess. Happy hunting."
Sighing I cursed the absurd reputation I had accrued, and went to the Flight channel. "Change of plans. An Elenese Recon Squadron is camping by the border in the free transit corridor, and Flight Ops and Hornet Actual have requested that we investigate them," I stated as I shared our new heading.
"I see," GreyDawn noted there was a pause as she digested our course. "Ah," she stated with some approval. Reading the nuances of a map-plot was trivial for a Pilot with her experience. I had no intention to get into a saber-rattling across the border with elements from the one Diyu Great House larger than ours.
"Yes, Countess," VioletBlood acknowledged, a bit of a pout in her voice, "But we should be ready for Elenese trickery." Of course she was disappointed. It was that reputation for bloody-minded aggression that had gotten us into this mess, a reputation that preceded us to the point some Fleet Officer thought we would be perfect to throw at some Recon Squadron to get them to scurry back to their side of Lacus Superum.
"Our role is to assess them and determine their intentions, not to get into a shootout," I stated as we flew out of the restricted airspace of the Testing Range. Wencelsa's Flight was moving slower, not quite on our heels, purely to make sure that no cadets strayed too far north.
"They're clearly watching our training mission to determine our intentions," Visha pointed out. It was true; the Adria Testing Range was rather close to the border and little that occurred here could reasonably be considered secret. Which was why House BlackSky had far more private testing ranges, some of which that weren't even on Diyu.
"But why else are they here?" I asked. "Intel has it that they have a full Flight of Mokosh Recon suits out. That's an expensive and high demand bit of kit. If they just wanted to watch some training exercises, they could have stuck a Yaryla Recon aircraft in the transit corridor."
"Maybe the Hornet's skipper's request has more going for it than we first thought," GreyDawn murmured. "We are all equipped with Gorgon Rigs, that would give us more of an idea of what's out there."
An officer who thought herself clever was many times worse than one who was all blood, viscera, and glory. "You aren't helping my calm, Centurion. I suppose that's what happens when I push to get us with the best suits and scrying kit."
"Sorry, Ma'am, but someone who runs a carrier would know Elena using their special Recon assets would be a reason to... investigate."
I pondered over the map display. Even at max dash, which we were not traveling at, it would take some time to get to where the Elenese squadron was waiting. That presumed they were there in the ten or so minutes our slower and slightly less direct path would take.
"It's going to be rather hard to hide from a Flight of Recon suits even if they're using passive scrying," GreyDawn stated. "Their Mokosh isn't as good as our Occultia but if they were watching our training mission then they already know we left."
"That's why we're not even trying," I stated. "With Fleet assets repositioning, even if we went under full Veil and broke contact they would have the strong suspicion that someone had been sent out to investigate."
"But we don't want to go in full-bore?" Visha asked.
"Negative. A direct charge is a known course, and we don't know what else is lurking out there," I stated. As the largest Great House, one underestimated House Elena at one's peril. "We may have been tasked with poking them with a stick, but I see no reason to go about it rashly."
"Also charging right in makes us seem desperate and panicked," VioletBlood added. "If they smell fear, the double-faced curs will attack."
"Broadly put," I allowed.
"Shame none of us are configured for Lance Strikes, that might give us more options," VioletBlood pondered.
"It is a trade-off. Right now I'm happy we have uniform capabilities and are optimized for air to air." My intentions were to avoid combat, but I had long ago learned that what I wanted had little to do with what actually happened.
We grew quiet as we continued to fly across the dark surface of the lake. The various icons on my map display slowly, inexorably moved, vast distances making even the fastest of Ritual Plate seem slow. The training exercise was reaching its bloody, simulated, conclusion. I guess I would have to congratulate the cadets. The HFV Hornet and her escorts, Combat Air Patrol, and Scouts shifted to more advantageous positions.
And that Elenese Recon Squadron continued to circle the sky in a lazy, elongated oval right on the border. Until suddenly, their scrying systems went from passive to active. Most of their focus was on our direction. It had to be more than just a paranoid reaction.
"I don't think they lit their Mokoshs up like Yule trees just for us," GreyDawn remarked, echoing my sentiment. Plenty of House BlackSky's major, and minor, religions had winter holidays, including a Remembrance Day in the Church of DarkStar, the very traditional Saturnalia, and a Midnight Mass observed by the Silvan diocese.
"They're sending a message to us, want to be sure we're not hiding any Veiled assets or..." I frowned. "Keep an eye on your scrying intake, with the output of four Recon suits there's going to be a lot of interference." A very crude analogy was that they had shined four bright flashlights on us, that made them very obvious as we could see them in the light-up night, but it was blinding.
"They're flying the same pattern: fat and happy, showing off for all of Diyu. They're up to something," VioletBlood spat. "It's a treaty volition at the very least."
"That is... correct. Good point, LoveBlood," I noted. Per the terms of the Four Party Agreement that set the borders within Lacus Superum, that Squadron was technically within the joint transit corridor, but that corridor was just that. Parties entering it had to use it to go from one port to another. There were some exceptions, like surface fishing vessels, but fisheries agreements were a whole other batch of issues.
"Flight Ops. Flight Ops. Diamond Actual here. Has there been any communication with the Elenese Squadron?" I asked.
"That is a negative, Diamond Actual."
"Would the Praefectus Commodore Lady HoofBridge object if I entered into communications with our guests?"
"One moment." There was a brief pause and in a shorter time than I expected the dispatcher replied. "Hornet Actual has no objection."
"Confirm." I went back to the Flight Channel. "Which of you speaks Thokavian the best? Visha?" For my plan to work. it was best that the message was delivered in Elena's own language. My wingwoman had grown up on an island near their sphere of influence. Until Elena had conquered it, of course, in order to secure another natural harbor.
"After joining the Legions, I did get some additional training to build on what I learned in school," Visha admitted.
"Excellent!" I cheered. "I have a simple message for you to deliver."
A couple minutes later, Visha started transmitting on the unencrypted open channel. "Unidentified Elenese Ritual Plate Squadron. Are you in need of assistance due to mechanical, arcane, or navigational fault?"
After a moment of silence, Visha continued, sounding rather natural, at least far better than I was at the slippery language. "At your altitude, you are a navigational hazard in the transit corridor. If your comms are down please flash your warning lights and we can provide assistance."
We were close enough to have reasonable locations and headings of the members of the Elenese Squadron. To my great disappointment, there was no signaling via their lights. However, their formation did shift with one Flight ranging out as if to intercept or screen, but then they pulled back.
"Guess, they remembered the proper reaction to being asked if you need help is not to charge across the border," GreyDawn laughed.
"That rattled them," I noted with some disquiet. I gave the orders to increase speed and shift to a more direct heading. "Visha, repeat the offer to help our friends, if you please."
With my wingwoman transmitting again, as chipper as one could be, I took a moment to study the map. The data was not perfect. The active scrying pulses from the Elenese Recon suits were still causing issues. Fleet Ops provided composited data sets made by comparing scrying intake from multiple sources, which helped somewhat, but only somewhat. After all, my Flight was on the bleeding edge, by far, the furthest out. The data from Flight Ops provided little that our Gorgons hadn't already revealed.
"BlackSkyvian forces, this is Pukovnik Emilia Armin, thank you for the offer," an elegant voice said over the open channel. The Pukovnik spoke Silvan Latin with just enough of a cloying accent that I wondered if it was an affectation. Pukovnik was a rather high rank for squadron command in the Elena military, roughly equivalent to a Tribune, but then again a Recon Squadron was a very high-value asset.
"We're happy to help. No RP Pilot wants to go down in the middle of the sea," I replied, thinking back to fighting Trosic Pilots over the southern Gaudia Sea. "Salt or Freshwater," I appended frowning over the display map. There were echoes and scrying artifacts, nothing that even raised to the status of a blip or ghost contact but I was not above jumping at shadows. Incautious pilots did not last long.
"Ah, BlackSkyvian hospitality," the Pukovnik chuckled. I suspected she was in one of the Marzanna air-superiority suits running escort on the Mokosh. Those Recon models were still saturating the sky with active scrying pulses but there definitely was something odd about it, more than just that their pulses were more towards the south than in our direction. It was like they were making shadows where our own passive intake was weaker.
The relative clarity of the Recon Squadron gave me unease. VioletBlood, for all her faults, was right, about Elenese tactics. And we could see the Recon Squadron with painful clarity down to the markings on the smoothed faceplates House Elena preferred in contrast with the more sculpted death mask BlackSkyvian style.
In contrast with the clean lines of our Occultia Recon suit, the Mokosh was all external scrying arrays set with crystalline solid-state receivers and thick tracery of thermal management enchantments. Compared to that, the Marzanna air superiority suit was a smoothed and sleek armor built for maneuverability and speed. Marring the clean lines were the spots where plates had been replaced to allow for extra warding projectors and power systems, showing that these were Generation Two refit models.
"Elenese Formation, are you having mechanical or navigational difficulty?" I demanded, my mouth dry. Our distance was rapidly closing and soon force would be more than a theoretical option. Glancing, I confirmed that my Ballista projectors were ready.
"Your offer for assistance is very generous, as our navigation system failed," Pukovnik Armin stated in a smooth purr. It was an obvious lie, every RP suit had multiple navigation systems: compasses, gyroscopes, star charting, and more. For a dozen suits to have all their systems fail was next to impossible, unless it was some kind of sabotage.
Not to mention they were unable to call for assistance? Clearly the Pukovnik had a form of functioning comms. One of the purposes of the open channel was to call for such assistance. However, it was an expedient lie. And there was time. The Fleet was sending in corvettes and other support, but Ritual Plate was the second fastest asset they had, and airships were far slower than that.
"While I'm happy they're finally talking, I am out of trust. Get ready for an active pulse on my signal.," I privately ordered my Flight before going back to the open channel.
"I am sorry to hear that such a misfortune befell you. Thankfully you did not accidentally stray into our territory," I enunciated, using those elocution lessons from the Mima Lumina academy to sound courtly, or at least non-confrontational. My fingers flexed. VioletBlood's paranoia was far from baseless; Elena had a habit of flashing conciliatory smiles, right up until they dropped the mask of civility.
"We would be happy to take you up on your offer... Countess?" Confusion and a bit of disquiet touched Emilia Armin's voice.
I could have cursed my relatively unique wings, which when coupled with there only being about a thousand Polyxo Legion Fliers, made me easily identifiable. Instead, I noted that this meant their Recon suits were good enough to detect the minute differences between a Fleet and a Legion Ritual Plate model at our current distance.
The Pukovnik's comments aside, my focus was on my Flight. "Active... now! Full Dash." We had a moment of distraction. Our suits could not cancel-out the pulses from an equal number of Recon RP, but to go with the extended light metaphor, we were now shining our own lamps into the darkness behind their lights. We also had four Gorgon Rig scrying systems which, while not as powerful, were still very capable systems.
The display bloomed with markers, most of them were tenuous sensor echoes and partial hits, but that was enough.
"Multiple squadrons! Volos pattern!" I shouted over the Flight channel and back to Flight Ops. Four rare and expensive Recon suits was one level of commitment, but dozens of their latest low-observable air superiority suits was something else. This was no squadron we were dealing with, this was a Vanguard Strike unit, something analogous to a Demi-Wing.
"Break, break, break!" I ordered as I led my formation into a steep dive. The three Volos squadrons accelerated, their higher outputs shedding the heavy veils they were lurking under. At least that bit of CSR Intel was confirmed. The Volos' powerful Veiling systems were not able to contain the full output of combat maneuvering. Part of me wondered why they were here. Nearly forty of those suits had to be a significant fraction of Elena's Volos fleet.
"Duplicitous Elenese! They must have used their accomplices as cover!" VioletBlood cried with more than a bit of jealousy in her outrage.
"We can congratulate them on a trick well setup later," I replied through gritted teeth as we gained more speed, corkscrewed half a turn and raced off on an obliquely southern heading. We could have snap-maneuvered into a turn, but that would have slowed us down, and the one advantage we had was that it would take the Volos just a bit of time to fully power out of stealth mode and accelerate to combat maneuvering mode.
"Diamond Actual, this is Kestrel, do you need assistance!" a new dispatcher called in, just a bit of heat on the Fleet officer's words. The HFV Kestrel was a Kolibri Torpedo corvette. A small, relatively quick vessel that still carried over half a dozen Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes which gave it a fair bite.
I appreciated the offer but the range was far from ideal. "Kestrel, we could use some fire support, but I'm a bit concerned about this spiraling out of control." Beyond the Kestrel there were multiple Household Fleet squadrons incoming. But they would all arrive in time to avenge us.
"Volos Squadrons are about to cross the border," GreyDawn stated her voice cold and clinical as she confirmed the headings. At least our suits would get good location data for the enemy RP, for a while.
I swore at the map display. Escape was not yet impossible, not quite yet, but I gave the enemy a three in five chance of killing all of us.
"Understood. Half of our magazine are Skofnung anti-air Torpedoes," Kestrel offered. "If you can draw them, we can flood the sky with nearly a hundred Vel Missiles."
The offer was appealing, but the range was still a problem. Oh, we were within the hundred and forty mile range of a Skofnung; the problem was that even a supersonic missile would take a few minutes to cross the distance between us.
I doubted we had that much time. Map distances flashed over my eyes and I sighed. There... were options. I had drawn out combat with enemies many times before. Rarely ones equipped with such good sensor support, there would be no hiding my location this time.
"We can hold them, down sell ourselves and let the missiles harrow them and the fleet mop up," VioletBlood suggested, echoing my first option. Haughty but stern, she sounded like so many BlackSkyvian nobles trying to find scraps of glory in the cold calculus of war. "Besides, we've got an Ace who's fought nine-versus-one and won. Have they?" Her question was light, but unlike Narvos this time... this time she would stay at my side.
"If it comes to that, we'll do our duty," I promised her before changing the comm channel. "Kestrel, do you have any Ascalon Torpedoes?"
"Uh, yes four," the comms officer seemed befuddled.
"Outstanding! Fire two of them on the following course with terminal guidance and detonation on my mark."
"But Diamond Actual, you wanted things to not spiral out of control?" I could not fault the dispatcher. The Ascalon was a ship-killer with over half a ton of special alchemically enhanced explosives. The same speed as the Skofnung it still had the same timing issue.
"Yes!"
"Torpedoes are already away," she replied a bit testily. "Uplink should be active in three, two, one..."
My display updated. "Flight, follow my lead."
"What's the plan?" Visha asked.
Beneath my faceplate, I pulled back my lips. "I'm going to be diplomatic."
End Chapter 18
Just a training exercise...
Don't worry ch19 is already written *and* edited! You won't have to wait long for that.
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
And a couple bits of news, there's a Diyu Demons / Young Justice fic called "Knight Sirens" being written by Ellf that you can find in this thread, that you might enjoy.
And there's now a Discord for Little Demon. It's another place to talk about the story, ask questions about the world-building and the like.
discord.gg
Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 18: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 1
Gibbs tapped my plate as the last step of the unofficial ritual and gave me a thumbs up. After I returned the gesture, the restraints retraced, and I stood from the arming chair. A traitorous part of me felt that it was good to be overseeing a mission again, to be wearing my Polyxo Flight Armor after so long outside my machine shell. Even if I was wearing it in the forward bay of a Household Fleet RP Carrier, a sufferance to any Legion officer.
Fortunately, I had already regained my airship legs, so even with the weight of the suit I didn't sway as I strode over to the cadet squadron.
I'd allowed them some Ritualista help, just enough to make the process slow instead of plodding, as well as to make sure no cadet overlooked a step in the preflight procedure. Thankfully, the cadets were very diligent in their checks; I made sure to emphasize the importance of detail in their training. I gave an expansive smile as the cream of Silvan nobility worked with what looked like quiet professionalism. Their tension was admirably low. Despite that, the air was still thick with their focused nervousness, a pungent odor almost smothered under the expected smells of etching compounds, incense, and the ozone tang of energized fuel cells and munitions.
After nodding to GreyDawn who had just finished suiting up, I clapped to regain the attention of the cadets. "Tonight, the Fleet has been generous enough to act as your transport and even provide a free meal. I'll be brief; you're here because you've started to prove yourselves to no longer be an embarrassment to the Imperial Legions. I haven't had to use the hose in over a month. That said, we will be doing carrier operations. Remember your training, follow Flight Ops' orders for launch and recovery, and you will do fine."
Short speech over, I stepped aside, unconcerned. I knew all of these cadets could perform carrier landings, at least on a sedate airship circling over an airbase. This was by no means a combat deployment, but there was a bit more risk.
"Are you giving them the soft-soap?" GreyDawn gruffly asked as she strode up. As my tallest Legion Flier, she cut an imposing figure, especially when encased in advanced Ritual Plate. "Just getting off the ship is the start of your night, girls."
Pulivia looked up from Lavish's armor and handed the checklist to a purple-skinned cadet to give a double check. "Have the training mission parameters changed?" the jade-haired cadet asked.
I gave her a thin smile. That was not the most uncommon training trick. Missions would change, often at the last moment, sometimes mid-mission. However, throwing too many surprises defeated the purpose of training. "I may have had a little wager with a Fleet Pilot. It turns out you're not the only training squadron on this airship tonight."
"What are the stakes, Ma'am?" Lavish asked as she lifted up an arm to allow the feeds of her weapons to be connected and fitted out. Her Flight, Third, was configured in strike mode. I eyed the conformal flasks bolted onto her suit which contained the bracingly powerful alchemically-boosted evocation charges. They were quiescent now and quite stable, but they still represented quiet but potent well of power, contained for now.
Part of me was... worried about giving a Senator's daughter enough evocative power to blow up a capital ship, but so far she had denied me a sufficient failure to kick her out of the cadet program. After her punishment had turned into a rather diligent analysis and credible presentation on the finer points of Polydora subsystems, Lavish had surprisingly maintained her new focus moving forward. Maybe getting SwiftSapphire's autograph to give to her little sister helped in its way. The MuArc test pilot did have some promotional images of her standing by the Pinnacle test suit.
Which, in a way, made me even more paranoid. I pushed those feelings down, as my smile grew. "Well, I'm no gambler, so..."
"She asked for my help," GreyDawn stated. "And I decided to go with something that would be very motivating to a gaggle of young cadets."
"The tradition is to wager spirits. However, I have little personal use for liquor," I remarked. "But... I can always use more cadets to clean the deck and my armor."
"Maybe if you embarrass the Legions with your flying, you can become credible Fleet maids," GreyDawn added in pure career centurion dry cynicism.
I couldn't help but laugh at the expressions of horror on these spoiled nobles. "I think you picked the right stakes for my wager, well done," I bowed my horns to GreyDawn.
"I can't take all the credit," GreyDawn nodded to the rest of our Flight. I smiled at my two Vs.
"It was easy," VioletBlood smirked. "I just picked a task that would horrify the most insular, I'm sorry, most cultured members among our fellow peers."
I thoughtfully nodded.
" That you think cleaning up on an airship is something to be ashamed of, well... that's punishment enough. After all, anybody who finds a week's worth of menial tasks horrifying, well... I'd hate to see how they would take living in a forward post deep in a stinking jungle for months on end." My baroness flashed her fangs at the cadets, almost all of whom were older than her, casually reasserting her dominance.
Once my Flight was finally ready, I motioned for my Ritualista to help the maintainers check off the cadet squadron. I also wanted them to triple-check the settings in the cadet's instruments and display suite. Their scrying intake and data compositing had to be set to training mode.
Over a dozen maintainers helped make the processing go far more speedy, but I still had a chance to step off to the side to talk with GreyDawn. There was an alcove conveniently open into the forward side of the middle port RP maintenance bay out of the way of foot traffic and the maneuvering of carts of munitions, fuel cells, and parts.
I left VioletBlood in charger of supervising the Cadets. They were not the only ones getting training.
"Concerns?" GreyDawn quietly asked.
"Maybe not the ones you're thinking of," I murmured.
"You're not worried that Pulivia's Flight has charged Lance flasks?"
"If I was really worried about that I would have grounded them." I exhaled as my tail curled then straightened. "No, they have to start using live ammunition. It's that or kick them out."
"They have made progress these last couple months," GreyDawn allowed.
"I know they've gotten a lot more suit time than you ever did before you got deployed."
My senior pilot shrugged her armored shoulders. "You're right, Ma'am. This is the cadet squadron we have and they've been cleared. I'm pleasantly surprised at how few washouts we've had."
I nodded. The cadet squadron had two voluntary washouts in the aftermath of my introductory speech two months ago. One had almost immediately taken up my offer to write them a letter of recommendation, if she withdrew from the program.
The second washout was Cornelia SpiralHorn, the daughter of an Armis Legate who had an incredibly unfortunate problem for a woud-be Ritual Plate Pilot: motion sickness.
The nausea, vertigo and other issues only came when she was under extraordinary stress, such as when ordnance exploded outside of her suit. And Visha thought the artillery training was just a hazing ritual! We had tried to help her overcome her problem providing the cadet with special tutoring, counseling, and medical evaluation. Ultimately, we had to make the call.
She was transferred to something more in line with her mother's branch. I had duly sent the letters of recommendation, and one of consolation to Armis Legate SpiralHorn. The letter to Cornelia's instructor at the Castra Frontier's Legion Armor School outlined her potential and her risks. Though if a tank rolled over one of the crew, getting sick was the least of their worries.
As sad as that was, those were the easy cases. I had been forced to dismiss one of the remaining cadets from the program. GreyDawn made a bit of money off of Visha, who had bet that no one would get ejected. However, GreyDawn lost a few aurei to LoveBlood because it was not Cadet RoseTalon.
I had managed to avoid being forced to mete any floggings, but the daughter of an executive at Standard Alchemical Products, whose second cousin happened to own the house neighboring my Duchess's Silvan townhouse, came very close.
Lavish had actually been the one to prevent the insolent girl from challenging me to a duel. Another reason to be upset with Cadet RoseTalon I suppose.
"You're thinking about Domitia Oesus?" GreyDawn ventured.
"Am I that obvious?"
"You are growling, Ma'am."
I laughed. "At least I just made one noble enemy, and Lady Domitia isn't even landed gentry."
"No Ma'am, her family merely owns one of the largest chemical processing and fuel extraction conglomerates on Diyu."
"And now she's in the Fleet learning how to pilot a Hasta bomber."
GreyDawn's expression and emotions made it blatant that she was skeptical if someone who did not have the attitude to conform to the standards of a Legion Flier would be able to make it as a Fleet Pilot.
"She will start out training to be a co-pilot, and if she's successful with that, she will have fewer opportunities for her poor judgment to lead her into trouble." Attitude aside, it was a better fit; Domitia could attune to spirits and had taken a lot of expensive tutoring, but in terms of multi-tasking capability she was one of the weakest fliers in my class. Though in more desperate times she likely would have been flogged and thrown into Scouting Branch to fill out the complement of a Venture scout airship watching some backwater colony.
"Yes, and if she challenges you to a duel once she becomes a qualified Ventus Centurion?"
I shrugged. "It would be tedious but I could manage."
"And if Domitia purchases her own Hasta bomber and a pair of Fujiwara Torpedoes? Or maybe she simply loads her bomb bays with five tons of Vel missiles?"
My tail stilled. "That would be..."
"Ruinously expensive," GreyDawn's eye glinted. "But if she still holds a grudge after earning her Ventus qualification and then decides to liquidate her inheritance for a bird and dozens and dozens of missiles, well, that would be challenging."
I just stared. "That is crazy." Such a duel would be absurd, but a Hasta bomber could replace two Fujiwaras it normally carried with half a dozen pods full of Vel missiles. The exchange of range for capacity had some real potential and turned a Torpedo bomber into an air defense platform with nearly two hundred missiles. It was an anti RP concept we were not the first to explore, nor the last in all probability.
"Honestly, it's a smarter move on her part than buying her own RP suit, getting tutoring, joining a mercenary guild and biding her time. I would take odds on you against any sell-sword Pilot."
"But a bomber full of anti-air missiles is another story?" I asked while pondering. The Hasta had some limitations in a local air defense role; it was designed to fire standoff weapons, not clouds of relatively short range missiles. However, that very missile loadout would make it a somewhat thorny target, even more so if it were escorted by RP suits providing additional protection and targeting data. Something I was counting on for tonight.
GreyDawn cracked a smile. "As you say, it's absurd."
"Lovely." I rubbed my face. "No cadet, current, former, traitorous or otherwise, is not my primary concern with this training mission"
"Location?"
"That's it."
"We are over a hundred miles from the border," GreyDawn mused.
"So we have a few minutes' warning. And the target location is well within Shoreline Province, but we're going to be over Lacus Superum."
"You're worried about the cadets accidentally leaving the training area?"
"They'll have to really get far off course to enter Elenese airspace, but I don't want to be surprised if someone starts to... wander."
GreyDawn nodded. "Understood."
"And I do mean wander, they're going to be under a lot of pressure and juggling a lot of balls, and things could slip their mind."
"Drifting that far of course?"
"Doubtful, but that's why I want eyes to catch anything before it becomes a problem. We'll punish them for any failures later."
"You don't sound very confident about your wager," a Fleet Pilot said playfully as she strode up to us, clad in her Polyxo suit. Primus Centurion Horatia Wencesla was several times my senior age-wise, but still about my height.
There was a smirk on the woman's finely delicate features, but her green eyes were warm. "It's good to see you, Countess," she then bowed her horns in greeting to GreyDawn.
"Primus," I nodded to the Fleet Pilot, "and this time, we meet under pleasant circumstances."
She laughed. "Yes, there are worse things than babysitting cadets."
"You haven't seen ours, Ma'am," GreyDawn murmured.
Wencesla shrugged. "Plenty of prissy little fops go into the Fleet. Maybe more, given our reputation for softer racks, better food, and no mud. You did agree to wager against my lot."
"Not to mention the prettier uniforms," I stated. Wencesla was likely looking at her own squadron command. While she was much older than me, she had only a decade more experience as a Pilot, that did put her at a more typical advancement rate.
"Yes, Fleet whites are spiffy." Her green eyes sparkled. "You have concerns?"
"We should keep an extra eye on our cadets, and be mindful of our location."
"We will be over water for most of the training," Wencesla nodded. "Border issues aside, if one of them has to ditch it'll be harder to splash down than land in some forest."
"Depends on the forest," GreyDawn stated.
"Shoreline Province's woodlands are pretty tame," I noted. "Lot of farming, old growths are further south anyway. The coastal lowlands would be pretty fine to walk out of.
"Provided you survive the crash," Wencesla's tone was quite dry.
"Obviously, if you don't survive, you no cause for worry." I glanced back to the arming chairs and caught Visha's eye. She gave a thumbs up.
"Impressive skill in suiting up," Wencesla said observing my Cadets.
"To get them to keep from dawdling, incentives have been used during that module of their training, with greater penalties for mistakes," I gave a toothy smile, "while most of the equipment in a Maintenance Bay is not quite waterproof, field expedient arming chairs absolutely are."
Wencesla blinked. "Did you turn fire hoses on them?"
"Of course not," I said, horrified. "That would be a waste of critical damage control equipment."
"Not to mention the water pressure might damage something," GreyDawn stated.
"But tapping into a hangar's grey water return line, on the other hand..." I shrugged.
Wencesla shook her head. A moment later one of her Flight came up to her and said that her cadets were ready.
"Shall we go to the briefing room and tell the girls what they're really going to be doing tonight?" I suggested.
++++++++++
We were on the Mellona class medium carrier HFV Hornet. As Ritual Plate carriers went, I was rather fond of the Mellona class. Capable of deploying and maintaining a light wing of six Squadrons, it had better facilities than the Damocles light carrier or the tiny Kolibri patrol carrier. At the same time, it was faster and far more common than the higher capacity Nova fleet carriers or the hulking Avalon heavy carriers.
Much of the Hornet was set aside for this training mission, including the briefing rooms which Wencesla, myself, and our Flights strode into. Unlike some of the frankly ridiculous tiered auditoriums on an Avalon, this was just a room with several rows of seating, enough for forty occupants all told. Though I suppose in the Avalon class's defense, when you had a crew of over three thousand supporting an RP Air Group of nearly four hundred Pilots, faculties with a higher capacity were useful. They could double as recreational amenities for one.
The two oversized cadet squadrons only took up the first third of the seating. Despite the chairs being reinforced to bear the weight of Ritual Plate to a pilot the cadets chose to stand in their Polydora suits.
"We'll make this brief," Wencesla stated as a map appeared on the wall projection behind her. It was a diagram of the part of central Lacus Superum we were flying over. The sprawling great lake bordered four Great Houses and had many islands and fjord-like arms. There was a rippling groan from the cadets as they digested the symbols on the map, specifically the ones denoting targets and opposing forces.
"As some of you have feared, there will be a slight change in tonight's plans." Wencesla almost sounded apologetic.
"At least this time there won't be any artillery," I joked. I smiled at the hearty laughs from my cadets while the Fleet girls glanced about and could at most muster nervous chuckles.
"Quite," Wencesla nodded to me. It was nice to have someone I did not have to look up to. "Your target locations are only notional. It will be up to you to find the actual spot. Please note that the targets are still within the clearly demarcated confines of the Adria Testing Range; both the land and water parts."
"For those of you with itchy tails I have good news and bad news," I gave a smile. "You will have to face opposition while you take out your targets. Because this is a live-fire exercise we will be using both enemies simulated on your instruments and display as well as training drones."
There was some murmuring.
"Now, since these remote operated golems were provided by the Fleet it's not my budget that gets it if you knock them out of the sky," I continued, noting that while my bloodthirsty nobles relished the chance to destroy some flying enemy, any flying enemy, Cadet Pulivia was thoughtfully studying the map. Hopefully, she realized that no one had said what kind of training drones were being used.
House BlackSky had a large variety of training aides, mostly designed to augment opposing force training and simulating enemy capabilities, if not in full performance then in areas of maneuvering and relative-observability. Several shortfalls in the drone's capacity could be made up for by tweaking and supplementing a Pilot's display. Modern BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate was designed for data sharing, which gave great training potential.
It also was a vulnerability if our comm systems were compromised. That was why a suit's own scrying intake was processed separately and took primacy when displaying data. This was also why a Ritualista had to manually change settings to enable the training mode, simulated enemies would still be marked as such, but they would not be filtered as spurious.
Wencesla gave a prim smile. "These are target drones, destroying them is anticipated. However, if you destroy anything other than designated targets then you will face the full weight of the BlackSkyvian military law."
The apprehension grew on the cadets. Giving a warm, toothy smile to reassure them I gestured to the map. "The entirety of the live-fire portion will take place within the bounds of the Adria Testing Range. You will have plenty of buffer between the range and the border to the joint airspace zone." I pointed to the wide strip that ran east to west across the middle of the great lake. By agreement of the four Houses bordering the lake, it was an area cleared for free air transit. There was a similar waterborne trade corridor for shipping, both passenger and cargo, down on the lake's surface.
"If your navigation system fails you will contact Flight Ops and one of the instructor Flights. You will then drop out of the mission. If your comms system fails you will use your warning lights to signal distress, and drop out of the training exercise. If you see a fellow Pilot in distress you will report it to Flight Ops. The Hornet will have a Search and Recovery team on standby.
"Let us go over your approach corridors and what you'll know about your targets," Wencesla adjusted the projection and a couple vectors appeared.
"You will have your pick of a number of cleared approaches into the testing range." This time my smile had more teeth. "I strongly suggest that you use the opportunity to pick an approach path that maximizes your ability to find your targets and to evade the enemy forces."
"Speaking of which, here is what we can tell you," Wencesla said, beginning her explanation of the variety of simulated opposing forces. Most were second line Elenese airborne assets. That still allowed for a good mix of Ritual Plate and airframes, both golem and piloted.
Noting the cadets' disquiet at being outnumbered and dealing with enemy patrols, I took the baton. "We cannot give you locations of your strike targets because they are moving."
There was a sigh from the cadets but the map had made that much clear. Sharing a glance, Wencesla and myself decided to let that pass. Pilots were allowed some small measure to, quietly, grumble when the Brass Horns gave them frustrating orders.
"There is a squadron of old remote-operated Yew Patrol boats motoring in the Testing range. You will find these small craft, which will be marked in the following way," I updated the display to show the cross hatch paint job that had been applied to the boats, "forward your scrying data to Flight Ops. You will hold your fire until you receive positive confirmation. "
Looking cocky, RoseTalon gave a confident nod.
"Yes cadets, your two strike-equipped Flights have more than enough Lance strikes to take out this many small unwarded boats. Please ruminate on that. Any questions?"
Wencesla shot me a mildly surprised look.
Cadet Optio Lady Pulivia VibrantFang lifted a hand. One of the more promising cadets, she was a third daughter to a Duchess with considerable holdings in Lentia Province, if I remembered correctly. "If we lose all of our Lance-equipped Polydora, will it be possible to proxy hit the targets using the weapons on our other suits?"
I nodded. "That will not count as a destruction of the target, but for the purposes of this exercise, enough Ballista hits it will count as a mobility kill which will be a partial score."
"Any others?" Wencelsa asked in a tone that indicated she would strongly prefer if there were no more questions. She glanced at the clock on the bulkhead. "Outstanding. Everyone up and make their way to the Launchers."
"Legion Fliers to the port Launchers, Fleet Pilots to the starboard," I ordered, feeling a bit generous by not calling them cadets.
The two squadrons slipped their helmets on and helped get the latches and catches around their horns. Though I did note that my cadets were a bit smoother in that evolution.
Another nice aspect of the Mellona class's design was that the walk from the pilot briefing rooms to the Launchers was rather simple and could be done without overly blocking up the corridors, even if it did require going around a Torpedo room.
I had my Flight split up. Each of us stood before one of the port Launchers and preformed one last check on the cadets and their suits. A visual inspection would only detect the most egregious of failures in fitting out, but it also gave me a chance to make sure the instructors were getting valid telemetry from their suits.
Satisfied, I gave a nod to the daughter of the head of the Mason and Runewright Guild as she stepped past me, across the hazard stripes and into the launch tube. A Fleet rating checked to make sure her feet were secured into the catapult's shuttle.
"Lovely night," I said as Cadet RoseTalon stepped up. "Lift your arms up," I commanded her so I could inspect their articulation for any disconnects. "Do a pilé."
"What?" Even wearing a full mask I knew Lavish was confused.
"A dip: turn out your legs at the hip joints, then bend your knees over your toes. Mind your balance, but try to bend deeply while keeping your spine straight," I stated as the haughty cadet complied.
"Ah, a mobility check," she nodded after I confirmed she could stand back up.
"And a basic ballet move," I flatly stated. She would have known this if she had taken my advice and signed up for the War College ballet troupe. But, that a senator's daughter was not familiar with this part of high culture was interesting in and of itself.
Before she could even think about a retort to cover up her faux pas of showing cultural ignorance, the Fleet rating waved at her.
I slapped her on the armored shoulder. "Go, we don't have all night."
Still confused, Lavish stomped over to the catapult.
I focused on giving a final check of the next cadet. There were only a couple more before everyone would be in the air. And even Lavish could ride a launcher.
Soon it was down to just my Flight. We slipped on our helmets and went up to the launchers. I linked my comms with Flight Ops and the voice of the fleet officer in the port forward observation overseeing launch operations came in. "Diamond Flight, you have a clearance to launch."
"Confirm Ops, how is Training Squadron Two looking?" I asked more out of camaraderie and tradition. I could see the status of the four Flights of Legion cadets on my display, as well as Wencelsa's girls.
"They're still in the air," Flight Ops dryly replied as the Fleet rating checked that my boots were secured into the catapult's shuttle.
I reflexively tensed and locked myself into the bladed bent-forward position as I spun up my Zephyr. My wings strained. There was a countdown, the lights flashed, and suddenly I was shooting down the launch tube.
My Zephyr added to the acceleration and I shot smoothly out into the night.
The carrier vanished behind me as I formed up with my Flight. The water was deceptively calm, far below our boots. The larger moon, Emuria, hung nearly full far above our helmets, while her consort Lantia was but a small crescent peeping out across the sky.
"With the boffins back on Hornet handling the opposing force we'll be taking care of our cadets," I said over the Flight Channel.
"Each of us still taking a Flight to monitor?" VioletBlood asked.
"Correct," I glanced over my display. One instructor proctoring a Flight of four would allow for her to keep an eye on their performance. "But we won't be splitting up."
"You don't want to have us hovering right over their wings?" Visha asked.
"More that she doesn't want us to split up into lone units," GreyDawn suggested.
"That's correct, at worst we'll split up into pairs, but even on a training mission I don't want us to get into the habit of flying alone," I said, then switched to the command channel. "Diamond Actual to Jade Actual. Wencelsa, how are we looking?"
"I trust you can read a display as well as I, Countess," Wencelsa dryly replied.
"They're doing things by the book," I allowed, double-checking the formations the two squadrons had taken. Each had three Flights of fighter-configured Polydora and one Flight strike-configured. Both Squadrons had fallen into a staggered escort box with the strike Flight in the center with two Flights running ahead at different altitudes and the last Flight running close-protection.
"Safe, uninspired, and easy to maintain." Wencelsa paused. "But that's why the formation's in the book. Those are all positives."
"Most of the time," I agreed. "At least they're staying in the corridor and trying to scout."
"Leading elements in that formation are too tight for scouting," Wencelsa noted.
"They'll learn or they won't," I noted with a verbal shrug. There were other solutions. They could reduce the escorts to a pair of Flights and send one Flight out as scouts, but that had limited coverage even if they split the Flight into two pairs. So much of command boiled down to managing finite resources.
"Flight Ops confirm status of OpFor?" Wencelsa asked. Our displays showed the locations of the various drones, but if the staff back on Hornet were not ready to play the simulation, then this would be a very easy exercise indeed for our cadets.
"OpFor team is ready. They're confirming uplink right now," the smooth voice of the dispatcher responded.
"Interesting," I noted. My display updated as the marks denoting where the enemy Ritual Plate would be appeared, but only part of my attention was on that.
"Oh?" Wencelsa paused. "You're not looking at the sims." She got a bit of playful irritation. "Your people aren't passing hints to Cadet SkySpear are they?"
"Not unless yours are passing notes to your cadets," I lightly replied.
Cadet Optio Baroness SkySpear, daughter of a Navarch in command of a Grand Fleet Emuria formation consisting of multiple Landing Defense Flotillas and a Bombardment Flotilla, was the squadron commander for tonight. Pulivia VibrantFang was her second in command and was also in charge of the strike Flight.
And it seemed that one of them, or both, had ordered the forward Flights of their squadron further out and in a broader formation that covered more airspace.
My Flight and Wencelsa's were largely focused on our respective cadet Squadrons. Both entered the Adria Testing Range's airspace without issue and started running a search pattern. Reassuringly, neither group of cadets went on a direct vector to the last known location of their mission targets.
They swung around in two formations that, despite the competition, were mutually supporting. They were a bit more cautious than I expected for their experience level, but it was a balancing act. The more circuitous, or cautious, their route made it less likely they would be jumped, but that meant their mission would take that much longer, giving the OpFor more opportunities to find them.
And the enemy was going to find them, which was a whole other factor. If you knew it was going to be a contested mission, then positioning was vital.
"They've detected the Svarog Flights running picket," I noted as the forward two of my Cadet Flights pulled back into a more protective positioning as an equal number of, simulated, Elenese light anti-air Ritual Plate pursued them.
"First blood goes to yours," Wencelsa noted as SkySpear's wingwoman took out a Svarog. The Fleet officer then gave a whistle when she saw the rest of SkySpear's personal Flight pin the other three Svarogs with a chasing engagement. The other escorting cadets dashed over, plunged down, and cut through the virtual enemies. Those suits cleared off the cadet's displays as the hits were registered by Flight Ops
"Well done," Wencelsa admitted.
"They had a numerical and positional advantage. And the early Svarogs lacked the hardening necessary to compensate for their lack of higher-envelope maneuverability," I said, not at all defensively. The Svarog was not a bad design, as a ground attack suit. It was relatively inexpensive, but the first iterations had been pressed into a supporting anti-air role that they struggled with.
"I have the boffins simulating current Svarogs, ones that aren't death traps," Wencelsa stated wistfully.
I laughed, not at all nervously. "One moment." I switched over to the channels for my cadets' First and Second Flights. "Commendable work girls. Those were peer level suits you went up against. But don't get all fat-tailed about it, you did outnumber them."
"Thank you, Ma'am. Understood," SkySpear's voice clearly came out, it might have been a bit strained as she kept her composure. Well, she was managing a whole heavy Squadron. Their channel was free of idle chatter. Good, the comms discipline lessons might have stuck.
I switched back to my Flight channel and there was a pregnant silence.
"That was a... colorful motivational message," Visha remarked. "Brief but turgid."
I blinked but before I could reply...
"This isn't the first time the Countess has used her tail to motivate a poor baroness cadet!" VioletBlood wailed, humorously overwrought except for the hint of prickly jealousy.
"It was very inspiring, Ma'am. Just bursting with the proud traditions of the Imperial Legions," GreyDawn drawled.
"I didn't use my tail!" I gasped.
"Don't worry,' GreyDawn assured. "You're a Legionary Flier, being a bit crass can be forgiven, especially in the heat of the moment."
"Maybe tutoring lessons twice a week at Mima Lumina Academy isn't enough," VioletBlood mused.
"That's enough, LoveBlood," I tried not to growl. In abstract, I understood the role of etiquette lessons for young nobles, but I was a Centurion and I had gotten plenty of cultural refinement as part of becoming a Soloist in the Ballet Troupe. What was the point of becoming a ballerina if you couldn't use that to prove you were plenty ladylike?
"Yes, Primus Centurion Countess," she soberly stated.
I let that slide and focused my attention on the tactical map.
The Fleet Cadets had taken out their own Svarog Flight, but the OpFor had gotten quite close to their Strike assets and it had taken the Cadets multiple passes with their escort units to take them out. The problem was that even with their Veils up and a reasonably large amount of airspace, the OpFor commander would know something was wrong.
The locations where two of her Flights were destroyed was a clear indication of an oncoming attack. And hence, both Cadet Squadrons dropped in altitude and slowed their speeds increased their Veils. It was a fair plan to break contact and try to relocate.
The sum of the OpFor's simulated scrying intakes would show there were no nearby enemy units, when they scanned the cadet's vicinity, but they knew they were out there. If the OpFor had a scrying specialist unit like the Mokosh, the cadets could still be tracked, Veiled or otherwise, even if the rough Elenese equivalent of our Occultia was relatively rare. House Elena preferred to use the Yaryla whenever they could.
A mid-sized aircraft with a crew of three, the Yaryla obviously had a far larger footprint than the Mokosh and required a runway, albeit a short one, but it had a greater endurance than a Ritual Plate, and was the less expensive option.
The Cadet Squadrons raced over the waves. My students had taken the leading edge position and seemed like they wanted to push as fast as they could without compromising their stealth. I knew they would accelerate to full dash speed once they decided that they had broken contact.
Meanwhile, Wencelsa's girls were more cautious and from the way their formation had spread just a bit more and had taken the lower altitude slot, I could see they were being more cautious, as if they could sneak up to their targets for a surprise strike.
As far as plans went, it wasn't entirely wrongheaded, but if they wanted to work in cooperation with the Legionary students they needed to coordinate their overall doctrine: speed or stealth. The rest of my Pilots were busy evaluating their assigned trainee Flights so I checked in on SkySpear's channel.
"It makes more sense if we work this way," SkySpear stated.
"But what about the bet?" The Fleet Cadet paused. "If we do this, aren't you kinda throwing the wager?"
"DarkStar's Blood! I don't care if I have to play maid on an airship! Do you think the Countess really cares? The mission is key and the odds are not in our favor."
There was a pause. "Fine."
SkySpear's tone softened. "Balbina, you already want to go with the cautious strategy. If I've learned one thing is: make the best decision you can, the quickest you can and then commit fully.
"Right," the Fleet Cadet sounded more confident. "We'll separate, but take a curving approach; that'll minimize the separation with my Squadron being slower."
"Fine," SkySpear laughed.
I gave a thin smile. It sounded like they were embracing their differences in tactics. The Legion Cadets would go in fast and loud, while the Fleet would sneak in. It was not a terrible plan. One Squadron would provide a diversion and depending on the attacking force the other Squadron could reinforce or dash to the target boats.
However, there was a flaw to the cadets' plan: two of the drones flying out there were standing in proxy for a formation of Yaryla recon aircraft. The cadets' Veils were less effective than they had assumed. The question was how the cadets would react when it was clear that their Poyldora were being picked up at greater range than they expected.
The OpFor had repositioned their recon assets, regained contact with the intruding formations, and was vectoring in interceptors.... now. The instructor display updated as a squadron of Perun strike suits accelerated towards both cadet squadrons. That would be a bad force balance for the simulated RP, except the Opfor had support. Two other drones were filling in for a pair of Kupala air-defense bombers.
Something like a smaller, greater-ranged Hasta, the Kupala was mostly a platform for carrying anti-air missiles, though it could work in a direct bomber role. It had a crew of two and had about two-thirds the payload capacity of a Hasta.
Its main function was to provide extra firepower for forward air units who sent back targeting data. It could fight by itself, but that came with far greater exposure which was rather risky for an airframe optimized as a long-endurance, ordnance transport.
"Everyone keep an eye on your cadets," I said over my Flight channel. Back on the Hornet, all of this was being recorded. Our presence was to give direct impressions, notes, and as a quick reaction in case anything went wrong. We also just happened to be between the cadets and the nearest border out of the Testing Range.
It worked the other way, just in case some aircraft tried to wander into restricted airspace. And while most of the traffic was to the north in the joint transit corridor, the sky was rarely truly empty.
"If mine even get through this," VioletBlood noted. She had been assigned to the Flight with the strike-equipped Polyxo that had Pulivia, Lavish, and two rather promising cousins, both from a ranching concern that was one of the larger land-owners in Rundani Province.
"They've still got good escorts," I stated a second too soon as a Pilot in Flight Two was shot down. "Visha?"
"Already on it," she said before switching to the Pilot's channel to give her the heading to exit the Testing Range and return to the Hornet. They would be vectored with the pair of Fleet cadets who had been knocked out shortly before them.
At least it was not too far of a journey, since we were still in the more northern expanses of the Adria Testing Range. Realizing they had all been detected, the two squadrons formed up, seemingly as they spotted the Kupala bombers.
I switched back to SkySpear's channel. "Yes, Pulvia I am risking your Flight," the cadet-leader stated with just a bit of a frustrated edge in her tone. "But you're our longest ranged weapons and if you don't take out those bombers then we'll never make it to the target boats. Execute."
Good. Someone was thinking. "Balbina I need you to send your strike Flight out, with escort," SkySpear transmitted to the head of the Fleet cadet Squadron. "Transmitting you coordinates now. We've got a window before the Kupalas can launch their missiles."
"I'll send one Flight to do close escort for them and commit the other two to help you finish the Perun RP," came the strained reply. It sounded like she was pulling a fair G load. Glancing at the display did confirm her suit was doing an impressive maneuver to avoid being bracketed by simulated fire.
Despite their simulated opponents being an older version of the Perun, it was still a strike suit, which meant that they had a fair bit of range, even with their lower-powered higher capacity loadout. But an early heavy strike suit versus fighter-configured Polydora was a reasonable challenge, in my opinion at least.
"Break... Break. Break!" SkySpear shouted as her squadron split in twain, half committed to keeping the enemy RP engaged while the rest dashed off to take out those bombers. The Fleet Cadets were not quite as smooth when they executed a similar maneuver.
It was a bold plan and one of their better plans for dealing with an enemy with superior fire support. And it was not like SkySpear dismissed the concept that the enemy bombers would have their own escorts. She sent both Third and Fourth Flights.
Which was reasonable, as there was a Flight of Svarog protecting the two Kupala air-defense bombers.
Pulivia had command of the two Flight detachment and showed no hesitation. She actually accelerated her Flight and fired a pair of Lances at the Svarogs while speeding at max velocity towards the bombers, which turned slightly and the display was suddenly full of a stream of virtual missiles.
Losses started to come in for both cadet teams. Mostly on their run against the bombers but the forces left to finish off the Prun Squadron had a couple casualties. But then six Lances from the strike-Polydoras stabbed out and blasted apart the two drones. The explosions were satisfying and the tactical display shifted just a tiny bit to respond to the loss of their scrying input.
And VioletBlood was directing Optio Cadet Lavish RoseTalon back to the carrier. In Lavish's defense she did score the best hit on the second bomber. At the cost of getting closer and holding a flight path that was a bit too predictable.
The remaining missiles were easier to evade as they had to fall back on their onboard guidance. Soon, both formations of virtual enemies had been mopped up and a pair of no longer over-strength cadet squadrons reunited.
"Two bombers in the drink," Pulivia proudly reported.
"Outstanding work, Flight Leader," SkySpear replied with perhaps a touch too much gusto but I could not blame her for having her blood up.
"Ma'am, I suggest that we proceed and find the targets with best speed," Pulivia suggested.
"Oh?" the Cadet squadron commander for this exercise asked.
"The enemy was still on us, I don't think we ever dropped off their displays," Pulivia suggested. "That means one of two things."
SkySpear sighed. "And our Countess is tough, but she's not a cheater."
"Not with an evaluation," Pulivia agreed. Well, that was reassuring.
"Right, good call Flight Leader," SkySpear switched to the other Flight leaders and patched into her equivalent on the Fleet Squadron. "Everyone, it looks like the enemy has some long range, or low observable, scrying systems. It has been suggested that we make best speed to the targets given all the remaining enemy assets have to be well aware of where we are."
"I.... agree," a gasping voice came in from the Fleet end. Checking the identification, I saw that she was the second in command of the Fleet Squadron. Ah, yes, her superior had been taken out in that last action. Well, learning how to take sudden command was part of the training.
"Everyone take a quick drink," Pulvia suggested.
"Thank you, Flight Leader," SkySpear sounded a bit chastised. "Alright, here's the course. It's not the most direct but it gives us a good time-savings and with the right formation, we can try to punch through whatever they'll put up."
"But what about the competition?" a Fleet Flight leader asked.
"It's a distraction, a head game to see how we react," Puliva dismissed. "Do you have any idea how expensive this test is? Do you really think people like our instructors really care about some bet involving us playing maids?"
"Agreed," SkySpear stated. "You have your orders Optios, get to it! Fleet Leader, I've folded my Second and Fourth Flights together into one unit. I suggest you do something similar with your losses."
I gave a thin smile. Their plan was direct. But they had shown a fair skill at coordination and now were able to take casualties without shattering. At least simulated ones.
"It is good that they have such an inspiring instructor," GreyDawn noted over my Flight's channel.
"You think just because the Flight you're babysitting doesn't exist that you don't have any work to do?" I asked with a touch of humor.
"The Legions' capacity to create work is infinite," GreyDawn groused.
"I think they've got heart!" Visha chirped.
"That's only because we haven't dropped the hammer on them," VioletBlood purred.
"Diamond Actual. Diamond Actual. This is Flight Ops," a smooth voice said on the override transmission.
"This is Diamond," I stated and reflexively went over the map. For all they had been fighting, the cadets looked to be in no actual danger. A few were actually well on their way back to the carrier. Was there a problem where they couldn't land on the Hornet? Couldn't they be diverted to one of the escorting airships then? Other than the remaining drones and us, the sky seemed clear. There was some traffic north of us in the transit corridor. Oh.
"A patrol from one of our Venture scouts detected possible observer craft at the following coordinates," the dispatchers stated in the same tone as if she were giving me a weather check or telling me that an enemy battle group had teleported in.
"Confirm. That's on the border?" I inquired.
"Yes, Diamond Flight. The scrying intake shows they're moving in a rough racetrack pattern. Our estimate is a light Elenese Recon Squadron consisting of a Flight of Mokosh RP plus escorts."
"Understood. Thanks for the heads up Flight Ops."
There was a pause. "Actually Diamond Flight, Praefectus Commodore HoofBridge requests that you go out and investigate."
"She does," I stated. Lady Eliza Bellus HoofBridge captained the HFV Hornet, and while she was not directly in my chain of command, for the purposes of this joint training mission her requests had weight.
I sipped some water. "Will the training exercise be canceled?"
"No. Flight Ops is vectoring our Combat Air Patrol and launching out standby Flights to provide more support. Scouting assets from a second Venture are also being repositioned with a detachment of escort elements."
"Understood. Diamond Flight will investigate the possible incursion," I declared, putting emphasis on that word. I wanted to make it clear on Hornet's flight record that I was not going out with the intention of engaging the Elenese forces. It would take a little bit of time for one of the Hornet's escorting Kolibri class corvettes to get into position, but I wasn't too proud to take Fleet backup.
"That's what the Praefectus Lady wanted to hear," Flight Ops said, a bit of color entering the dispatcher's voice.
++++++++++
Raging against my fate, I gave a tiny internal scream. Of course some aggressive hard-charging Fleet Officer would throw the Heroine Countess, the youngest bearer of the Preserver Crown, at some Elenese spies to make them flee, tails between their legs.
After taking a few calming breaths, I exhaled and switched channels. "Jade Actual. Jade Actual."
"Flight Ops was also informing me," Wencelsa stated. "My Flight will take over proctoring the rest of the training mission. We're in the endgame anyway."
"Thanks, we'll go over the results afterwards?" I asked.
"Will do. I do wish my Flight got requested as well."
I made a noncommittal noise. "Well, with all this chaos and with the final challenges for our students, more of them will be flying back to the Hornet. It would not be imprudent if your flight moves a bit further North to make sure none of them... strayed on their return flight."
Wencelsa laughed. "Understood, Countess. Happy hunting."
Sighing I cursed the absurd reputation I had accrued, and went to the Flight channel. "Change of plans. An Elenese Recon Squadron is camping by the border in the free transit corridor, and Flight Ops and Hornet Actual have requested that we investigate them," I stated as I shared our new heading.
"I see," GreyDawn noted there was a pause as she digested our course. "Ah," she stated with some approval. Reading the nuances of a map-plot was trivial for a Pilot with her experience. I had no intention to get into a saber-rattling across the border with elements from the one Diyu Great House larger than ours.
"Yes, Countess," VioletBlood acknowledged, a bit of a pout in her voice, "But we should be ready for Elenese trickery." Of course she was disappointed. It was that reputation for bloody-minded aggression that had gotten us into this mess, a reputation that preceded us to the point some Fleet Officer thought we would be perfect to throw at some Recon Squadron to get them to scurry back to their side of Lacus Superum.
"Our role is to assess them and determine their intentions, not to get into a shootout," I stated as we flew out of the restricted airspace of the Testing Range. Wencelsa's Flight was moving slower, not quite on our heels, purely to make sure that no cadets strayed too far north.
"They're clearly watching our training mission to determine our intentions," Visha pointed out. It was true; the Adria Testing Range was rather close to the border and little that occurred here could reasonably be considered secret. Which was why House BlackSky had far more private testing ranges, some of which that weren't even on Diyu.
"But why else are they here?" I asked. "Intel has it that they have a full Flight of Mokosh Recon suits out. That's an expensive and high demand bit of kit. If they just wanted to watch some training exercises, they could have stuck a Yaryla Recon aircraft in the transit corridor."
"Maybe the Hornet's skipper's request has more going for it than we first thought," GreyDawn murmured. "We are all equipped with Gorgon Rigs, that would give us more of an idea of what's out there."
An officer who thought herself clever was many times worse than one who was all blood, viscera, and glory. "You aren't helping my calm, Centurion. I suppose that's what happens when I push to get us with the best suits and scrying kit."
"Sorry, Ma'am, but someone who runs a carrier would know Elena using their special Recon assets would be a reason to... investigate."
I pondered over the map display. Even at max dash, which we were not traveling at, it would take some time to get to where the Elenese squadron was waiting. That presumed they were there in the ten or so minutes our slower and slightly less direct path would take.
"It's going to be rather hard to hide from a Flight of Recon suits even if they're using passive scrying," GreyDawn stated. "Their Mokosh isn't as good as our Occultia but if they were watching our training mission then they already know we left."
"That's why we're not even trying," I stated. "With Fleet assets repositioning, even if we went under full Veil and broke contact they would have the strong suspicion that someone had been sent out to investigate."
"But we don't want to go in full-bore?" Visha asked.
"Negative. A direct charge is a known course, and we don't know what else is lurking out there," I stated. As the largest Great House, one underestimated House Elena at one's peril. "We may have been tasked with poking them with a stick, but I see no reason to go about it rashly."
"Also charging right in makes us seem desperate and panicked," VioletBlood added. "If they smell fear, the double-faced curs will attack."
"Broadly put," I allowed.
"Shame none of us are configured for Lance Strikes, that might give us more options," VioletBlood pondered.
"It is a trade-off. Right now I'm happy we have uniform capabilities and are optimized for air to air." My intentions were to avoid combat, but I had long ago learned that what I wanted had little to do with what actually happened.
We grew quiet as we continued to fly across the dark surface of the lake. The various icons on my map display slowly, inexorably moved, vast distances making even the fastest of Ritual Plate seem slow. The training exercise was reaching its bloody, simulated, conclusion. I guess I would have to congratulate the cadets. The HFV Hornet and her escorts, Combat Air Patrol, and Scouts shifted to more advantageous positions.
And that Elenese Recon Squadron continued to circle the sky in a lazy, elongated oval right on the border. Until suddenly, their scrying systems went from passive to active. Most of their focus was on our direction. It had to be more than just a paranoid reaction.
"I don't think they lit their Mokoshs up like Yule trees just for us," GreyDawn remarked, echoing my sentiment. Plenty of House BlackSky's major, and minor, religions had winter holidays, including a Remembrance Day in the Church of DarkStar, the very traditional Saturnalia, and a Midnight Mass observed by the Silvan diocese.
"They're sending a message to us, want to be sure we're not hiding any Veiled assets or..." I frowned. "Keep an eye on your scrying intake, with the output of four Recon suits there's going to be a lot of interference." A very crude analogy was that they had shined four bright flashlights on us, that made them very obvious as we could see them in the light-up night, but it was blinding.
"They're flying the same pattern: fat and happy, showing off for all of Diyu. They're up to something," VioletBlood spat. "It's a treaty volition at the very least."
"That is... correct. Good point, LoveBlood," I noted. Per the terms of the Four Party Agreement that set the borders within Lacus Superum, that Squadron was technically within the joint transit corridor, but that corridor was just that. Parties entering it had to use it to go from one port to another. There were some exceptions, like surface fishing vessels, but fisheries agreements were a whole other batch of issues.
"Flight Ops. Flight Ops. Diamond Actual here. Has there been any communication with the Elenese Squadron?" I asked.
"That is a negative, Diamond Actual."
"Would the Praefectus Commodore Lady HoofBridge object if I entered into communications with our guests?"
"One moment." There was a brief pause and in a shorter time than I expected the dispatcher replied. "Hornet Actual has no objection."
"Confirm." I went back to the Flight Channel. "Which of you speaks Thokavian the best? Visha?" For my plan to work. it was best that the message was delivered in Elena's own language. My wingwoman had grown up on an island near their sphere of influence. Until Elena had conquered it, of course, in order to secure another natural harbor.
"After joining the Legions, I did get some additional training to build on what I learned in school," Visha admitted.
"Excellent!" I cheered. "I have a simple message for you to deliver."
A couple minutes later, Visha started transmitting on the unencrypted open channel. "Unidentified Elenese Ritual Plate Squadron. Are you in need of assistance due to mechanical, arcane, or navigational fault?"
After a moment of silence, Visha continued, sounding rather natural, at least far better than I was at the slippery language. "At your altitude, you are a navigational hazard in the transit corridor. If your comms are down please flash your warning lights and we can provide assistance."
We were close enough to have reasonable locations and headings of the members of the Elenese Squadron. To my great disappointment, there was no signaling via their lights. However, their formation did shift with one Flight ranging out as if to intercept or screen, but then they pulled back.
"Guess, they remembered the proper reaction to being asked if you need help is not to charge across the border," GreyDawn laughed.
"That rattled them," I noted with some disquiet. I gave the orders to increase speed and shift to a more direct heading. "Visha, repeat the offer to help our friends, if you please."
With my wingwoman transmitting again, as chipper as one could be, I took a moment to study the map. The data was not perfect. The active scrying pulses from the Elenese Recon suits were still causing issues. Fleet Ops provided composited data sets made by comparing scrying intake from multiple sources, which helped somewhat, but only somewhat. After all, my Flight was on the bleeding edge, by far, the furthest out. The data from Flight Ops provided little that our Gorgons hadn't already revealed.
"BlackSkyvian forces, this is Pukovnik Emilia Armin, thank you for the offer," an elegant voice said over the open channel. The Pukovnik spoke Silvan Latin with just enough of a cloying accent that I wondered if it was an affectation. Pukovnik was a rather high rank for squadron command in the Elena military, roughly equivalent to a Tribune, but then again a Recon Squadron was a very high-value asset.
"We're happy to help. No RP Pilot wants to go down in the middle of the sea," I replied, thinking back to fighting Trosic Pilots over the southern Gaudia Sea. "Salt or Freshwater," I appended frowning over the display map. There were echoes and scrying artifacts, nothing that even raised to the status of a blip or ghost contact but I was not above jumping at shadows. Incautious pilots did not last long.
"Ah, BlackSkyvian hospitality," the Pukovnik chuckled. I suspected she was in one of the Marzanna air-superiority suits running escort on the Mokosh. Those Recon models were still saturating the sky with active scrying pulses but there definitely was something odd about it, more than just that their pulses were more towards the south than in our direction. It was like they were making shadows where our own passive intake was weaker.
The relative clarity of the Recon Squadron gave me unease. VioletBlood, for all her faults, was right, about Elenese tactics. And we could see the Recon Squadron with painful clarity down to the markings on the smoothed faceplates House Elena preferred in contrast with the more sculpted death mask BlackSkyvian style.
In contrast with the clean lines of our Occultia Recon suit, the Mokosh was all external scrying arrays set with crystalline solid-state receivers and thick tracery of thermal management enchantments. Compared to that, the Marzanna air superiority suit was a smoothed and sleek armor built for maneuverability and speed. Marring the clean lines were the spots where plates had been replaced to allow for extra warding projectors and power systems, showing that these were Generation Two refit models.
"Elenese Formation, are you having mechanical or navigational difficulty?" I demanded, my mouth dry. Our distance was rapidly closing and soon force would be more than a theoretical option. Glancing, I confirmed that my Ballista projectors were ready.
"Your offer for assistance is very generous, as our navigation system failed," Pukovnik Armin stated in a smooth purr. It was an obvious lie, every RP suit had multiple navigation systems: compasses, gyroscopes, star charting, and more. For a dozen suits to have all their systems fail was next to impossible, unless it was some kind of sabotage.
Not to mention they were unable to call for assistance? Clearly the Pukovnik had a form of functioning comms. One of the purposes of the open channel was to call for such assistance. However, it was an expedient lie. And there was time. The Fleet was sending in corvettes and other support, but Ritual Plate was the second fastest asset they had, and airships were far slower than that.
"While I'm happy they're finally talking, I am out of trust. Get ready for an active pulse on my signal.," I privately ordered my Flight before going back to the open channel.
"I am sorry to hear that such a misfortune befell you. Thankfully you did not accidentally stray into our territory," I enunciated, using those elocution lessons from the Mima Lumina academy to sound courtly, or at least non-confrontational. My fingers flexed. VioletBlood's paranoia was far from baseless; Elena had a habit of flashing conciliatory smiles, right up until they dropped the mask of civility.
"We would be happy to take you up on your offer... Countess?" Confusion and a bit of disquiet touched Emilia Armin's voice.
I could have cursed my relatively unique wings, which when coupled with there only being about a thousand Polyxo Legion Fliers, made me easily identifiable. Instead, I noted that this meant their Recon suits were good enough to detect the minute differences between a Fleet and a Legion Ritual Plate model at our current distance.
The Pukovnik's comments aside, my focus was on my Flight. "Active... now! Full Dash." We had a moment of distraction. Our suits could not cancel-out the pulses from an equal number of Recon RP, but to go with the extended light metaphor, we were now shining our own lamps into the darkness behind their lights. We also had four Gorgon Rig scrying systems which, while not as powerful, were still very capable systems.
The display bloomed with markers, most of them were tenuous sensor echoes and partial hits, but that was enough.
"Multiple squadrons! Volos pattern!" I shouted over the Flight channel and back to Flight Ops. Four rare and expensive Recon suits was one level of commitment, but dozens of their latest low-observable air superiority suits was something else. This was no squadron we were dealing with, this was a Vanguard Strike unit, something analogous to a Demi-Wing.
"Break, break, break!" I ordered as I led my formation into a steep dive. The three Volos squadrons accelerated, their higher outputs shedding the heavy veils they were lurking under. At least that bit of CSR Intel was confirmed. The Volos' powerful Veiling systems were not able to contain the full output of combat maneuvering. Part of me wondered why they were here. Nearly forty of those suits had to be a significant fraction of Elena's Volos fleet.
"Duplicitous Elenese! They must have used their accomplices as cover!" VioletBlood cried with more than a bit of jealousy in her outrage.
"We can congratulate them on a trick well setup later," I replied through gritted teeth as we gained more speed, corkscrewed half a turn and raced off on an obliquely southern heading. We could have snap-maneuvered into a turn, but that would have slowed us down, and the one advantage we had was that it would take the Volos just a bit of time to fully power out of stealth mode and accelerate to combat maneuvering mode.
"Diamond Actual, this is Kestrel, do you need assistance!" a new dispatcher called in, just a bit of heat on the Fleet officer's words. The HFV Kestrel was a Kolibri Torpedo corvette. A small, relatively quick vessel that still carried over half a dozen Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes which gave it a fair bite.
I appreciated the offer but the range was far from ideal. "Kestrel, we could use some fire support, but I'm a bit concerned about this spiraling out of control." Beyond the Kestrel there were multiple Household Fleet squadrons incoming. But they would all arrive in time to avenge us.
"Volos Squadrons are about to cross the border," GreyDawn stated her voice cold and clinical as she confirmed the headings. At least our suits would get good location data for the enemy RP, for a while.
I swore at the map display. Escape was not yet impossible, not quite yet, but I gave the enemy a three in five chance of killing all of us.
"Understood. Half of our magazine are Skofnung anti-air Torpedoes," Kestrel offered. "If you can draw them, we can flood the sky with nearly a hundred Vel Missiles."
The offer was appealing, but the range was still a problem. Oh, we were within the hundred and forty mile range of a Skofnung; the problem was that even a supersonic missile would take a few minutes to cross the distance between us.
I doubted we had that much time. Map distances flashed over my eyes and I sighed. There... were options. I had drawn out combat with enemies many times before. Rarely ones equipped with such good sensor support, there would be no hiding my location this time.
"We can hold them, down sell ourselves and let the missiles harrow them and the fleet mop up," VioletBlood suggested, echoing my first option. Haughty but stern, she sounded like so many BlackSkyvian nobles trying to find scraps of glory in the cold calculus of war. "Besides, we've got an Ace who's fought nine-versus-one and won. Have they?" Her question was light, but unlike Narvos this time... this time she would stay at my side.
"If it comes to that, we'll do our duty," I promised her before changing the comm channel. "Kestrel, do you have any Ascalon Torpedoes?"
"Uh, yes four," the comms officer seemed befuddled.
"Outstanding! Fire two of them on the following course with terminal guidance and detonation on my mark."
"But Diamond Actual, you wanted things to not spiral out of control?" I could not fault the dispatcher. The Ascalon was a ship-killer with over half a ton of special alchemically enhanced explosives. The same speed as the Skofnung it still had the same timing issue.
"Yes!"
"Torpedoes are already away," she replied a bit testily. "Uplink should be active in three, two, one..."
My display updated. "Flight, follow my lead."
"What's the plan?" Visha asked.
Beneath my faceplate, I pulled back my lips. "I'm going to be diplomatic."
End Chapter 18
Just a training exercise...
Don't worry ch19 is already written *and* edited! You won't have to wait long for that.
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
And a couple bits of news, there's a Diyu Demons / Young Justice fic called "Knight Sirens" being written by Ellf that you can find in this thread, that you might enjoy.
And there's now a Discord for Little Demon. It's another place to talk about the story, ask questions about the world-building and the like.
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RogueInquisitor
Unexpected!
So, I'm guessing the exercise is now well and truly over. Will the cadets be heading towards the carrier, or the Elenese? I'm pretty sure the orders will be to head for the carrier, but a bunch of hotheaded young Pilots with live Air-to-Air loadouts may suddenly experience communication issues.
- Location
- USA
Quite so. They should go back to the carriers but in case they don't... That is why Tauria asked Wencesla to make sure none of them wandered out of the Testing Range.
As Tauria is worried about them "helping".
But the draft of ch19 can be read on the discord.
- Location
- USA
Yes! Made that correction.
How odd, bracingly is a word and while I'm using it a bit broadly via it's definition it should fit.
Chapter 19: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 2
- Location
- USA
The War Chronicles of a Little Demon
Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 19: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 2
High over Lacus Superum on our northern border with House Elena, my Flight had been sent to investigate an Elenese Recon Squadron watching our training exercise. It turned out they were in fact a Vanguard Strike unit of four Squadrons, including nearly forty of their latest Volos air-superiority suits.
We were hilariously outnumbered. From Norden to Narvos to a dozen of other grubby hellholes, my troops and I had struggled against the odds. This time, it was twelve to one. I had beaten something... close to that before, but War Mistress Rodswor had been overconfident, had toyed with me, and had allowed me to defeat her forces in detail.
I saw no such faults with Pukovnik Armin. Her Pilots' equipment was roughly comparable to ours, Elena's training was thoroughly acceptable, and they had the additional advantage of a quartet of advanced Recon suits. We had only talked briefly, but she seemed sensible enough, a far cry from the ranting War Mistress. I was counting on that.
Backup was en route, icons from the medium carrier Hornet's escorts and RP squadrons were tantalizingly close on my map display, but moving with aching slowness. Except for a pair of Ascalon Torpedoes racing across the sky; those icons were quite fast.
Our heading was not directly towards the Volos Squadrons. They had come in using a textbook formation where each Squadron was supported by the other. Two were spread out in staggered chevrons side by side with the third higher and in between.
Even at cruise speed, they had impressive enough Veiling systems. At least House Elena was getting something out of the money they'd sunk into the project. However, with my Flight using Gorgon Rigs on active, we were more than able to keep our eyes on them, or close enough that it made little practical difference.
I started to bend the course of my Flight, feigning an attempt to evade and slip past the Volos Squadrons and get to the Recon Squadron. The Elenese reacted just as I was expecting, moving to protect those four exceedingly valuable Recon suits. It amused me a bit because three dozen stealth suits were far more expensive than four Mokoshs.
But I could respect wanting to protect your not-as-frontline comrades. That respect did not preclude me from taking advantage of their impulse, or their training to draw out more time. Anything for just that much more time.
"What is the plan, Ma'am?" GreyDawn asked.
"We're going to talk," I replied. It was a plan that had almost worked before. But now I had an idea what fears were driving the Elenese commander
My Flight took a moment to process that.
"With a pair of Torpedoes at our back?" GreyDawn clarified while VioletBlood made a gleeful noise.
I glanced at the Display. "Oh, they're no longer at our back."
Like all supersonic Fujiwara Torpedoes, the Ascalon cruised at a bit below Mach three. However, for the terminal phase it sprinted up to three and half times the speed of sound.
Taking a sip of water, I made one request to the Fleet before switching to the open channel. " Pukovnik Armin. Pukovnik Armin. Are you still lost? Do you need navigational assistance."
There was a beat as I watched the pair of Ascalons race past my Flight. The Volos Squadrons knew they were coming and had started to break into sub formations. Which was why BlackSkyvian doctrine was to fire Torpedoes carrying clusters of anti-air missiles.
The enemy squadrons also knew this and figured they had a bit more range. Which was why I blew the Torpedoes early. A pair of miniature suns flared in the sky as enough high energy ordnance to blow through two capital ships detonated.
The Volos squadrons were already breaking and maneuvering as if they were about to be plagued by Vel Missiles. And while forty missiles for thirty-six Pilots was not great, for an elite unit equipped with the best Elena had to offer, they had to think their chances were good. Instead, their wards flared and flashed as the shockwaves buffeted both of them.
"They didn't expect that!" VioletBlood's glee was infectious as the three enemy squadrons took a moment to recover and get back into good order.
"Countess, what game are you playing?" Pukovnik Emilia Armin demanded over the open channel.
"Look, we could all fight, and waste a lot of money, lives, and equipment. You've got the numbers to run my Flight down and kill us. But it will cost you. How many of your latest Ritual Plate are you willing to sacrifice? What about your commanding Brigadir? Is House Elena willing to gut their Volos Pilot corps tonight? And for what? Observations on a cadets' training exercise?"
And on my signal another pair of Torpedoes launched from the Kestrel.
"What are you afraid of?" I pressed. "That this isn't a training mission. That someone with my reputation couldn't possibly be babysitting a bunch of cadets. There's just a medium carrier group behind me. The Hornet is barely enough for a raid, but... she is enough to take out your Vanguard Strike unit," I kept my tone even. From what I recalled, there were no significant forces from the First Home Fleet on maneuvers at this latitude tonight. If I were wrong and a Fleet Carrier or two or, DarkStar forbid, a Heavy Air Trinity were up north near the border with Elena then my words would be far from calming.
Despite the risk. I put as much magnanimity in my voice as I could. "Or... you can leave with your shiny suits. And the intel you gathered tonight. In time, you can figure out what the cadets were fighting against based on how they were moving."
Nearly forty Volos air-superiority suits had reoriented themselves and had resumed their closing course, but this time spread out on far wider frontage. It made them more likely to survive a Torpedo strike but more susceptible to being defeated in detail by opposing Ritual Plate.
There was a low chuckle from the Elenese commander. "This isn't the first time you've used yourself as bait, Countess."
"Far from it, Emilia. The question is: will you step into the trap? Are you no better than the wildcat Ziox or the cavalier Trosier?"
"Yes, yes, next you'll point out that even our dissolute allies in Luxon realized the wisdom of not fighting you." Pukovnik Armin sighed. "I speak unveiled on the honor of Elena; you have my bond if I have your oath."
"You exaggerate and flatter me, Emilia," I said as if this were a ball and we were exchanging calling cards. "But yes, Pukovnik, you have my word in the Imperatrix's name and on DarkStar's blood, that if your forces leave in good order we will not fire upon you."
"My, the broadsheets and newsreels didn't stray too far from the truth with you, did they?" Emilia laughed. She then switched to Thokavian which Visha translated for our Flight. "All forces do not engage. Repeat, do not engage. Change bearing and take the least time route to cross the joint transit corridor. We are done here."
There was a pause, no doubt them checking that confirmation on a secured comm channel, but then the enemy forces did a quick turn that for a brief moment left them exposed to a counter-strike.
Instead, I remote-detonated the two inbound Torpedoes. They were still far enough away to cause no harm to our... guests.
Watching the squadrons retreat, a shiver went through me, but I ordered my Flight to follow a respectful distance behind. Our cruising was sedate, our heading was steady and predictable, and our scrying remained on active.
"Flight Ops this is Diamond Actual," I stated after drinking a bit of heated broth. "Elenese Recon Squadron has been investigated. Further Elena assets, Volos model RP, were discovered totaling Demi-Wing strength. We are escorting them back out of contested airspace."
"Uh. Confirm Diamond Flight," the dispatcher said. "One moment."
"Standby."
"Ma'am, you are aware you were using the open channel to talk to your new friend, Emilia?" GreyDawn inquired over the Flight channel.
"How else would we communicate? We didn't set up a private broadcast channel." I replied. While there were established procedures outlining limited comms sharing with allies, House Elena was far from an our ally, and sharing a direct comm link would have violated protocol.
"What she means is that everyone could listen in. All the Pilots on both sides, the Fleet units, even our cadets and any civilians monitoring that channel," Visha explained.
My tail stilled as we flew. "Ah, an excellent point."
"It was a great feat of domination, Countess!" VioletBlood cheered. "You showed everyone who was in charge."
I was, briefly, thankful when Flight Ops interrupted. "Diamond Actual, I have Hornet Actual."
And then my heart sank.
"Praefectus Commodore Lady Eliza Bellus HoofBridge, a pleasure," I greeted the carrier's commander formally. I tensed. It looked like she was not even going to wait until I got back to her ship to chew me out.
"Primus Centurion Countess DiamondDust, I am sorry," Praefectus HoofBridge said with a mix of regret and surprised satisfaction.
"You're... what?" I blurted out, many lessons on deportment and how to communicate with superiors tumbling out of my mind in shock.
"Oh, it's not a formal Apology. Though knowing your mother... if things had gone..." She laughed as if sending four Pilots out to potential doom was just a part of the job. Which, indeed, it was. "Regardless, I am sorry that you did not get to wet your claws. I commend you on your restraint."
"Ah. It was a bit trying at moments." That was the truth. I took in the map. The training exercise was long done, but the Fleet assets, both airships Ritual Plate, and many cadets had been moving to the north. No wonder Pukovnik Armin decided to take her forces back to the Elenese side of the great lake.
"I know it must have galled you to just let them go like that, but we both know those Recon suits likely already transmitted whatever intel they had gathered from the exercise. And while you might not have been able to give those Volos suits a bloody nose, your own Gorgon Rigs have been giving us good telemetry and more on them."
"I... I suppose we'll have to be satisfied with that," I allowed. "I do wonder just why they had a full Vanguard Strike unit out here."
"Maybe they were testing our scrying systems to see when we'd spot their new Volos suits?"
"That is a possibility, Ma'am. They set up that Recon Squadron. They'll learn a bit more about our training, but the real lesson was seeing when we would respond and if we would notice a few squadrons of their new stealth fighter suits lying doggo."
"Perhaps, Countess. They could also have been going off on some other mission and were close enough to backup that Recon Squad. That's a question for Fleet Intel, or CSR if they find that level of skullduggery worth it."
"I'd be happy to help," I replied with forced gusto. The Household Fleet Intelligence service was not so bad, if a bit stuffier than the Imperial Legion's equivalent. Both focused on military intelligence and had counter-intel branches to secure facilities and guard against subornation and infiltration. All logical stuff with focused remits. It was the Office of Cultural Reconnaissance, and their far broader charter, that worried me.
"Good, I've sent my Second Squadron out to relieve you, though some of Kestrel's girls may beat them to the punch. After that, I request you get back on my ship and take the rest of the night off. I don't want you getting back out into the sky and trying to find your new Elenese friend."
I gave a laugh that wheezed with all the build up stress escaping. Of course HoofBridge thought I was just as bloody-minded as she was. "We can do that, Hornet Actual."
++++++++++
Early autumn was a lovely time in the City of Trees. The air was starting to grow cooler and the leaves were turning but had yet to fall. A festive air hung over the city as the various faiths present in Silvana prepared for the major holidays concentrated in the next few months. Some of the celebrations were cloyingly commercialized or overly sanctimonious and generally tedious, but the overall melange was charming enough.
I suppose my mood was elevated by recent events. The whole incident north of the Adria Testing Range had terminated in debriefings, including a detailed review of my Flight's scrying intake. The clouds of hyped reputation and endless meetings even had a silver lining, as I got to present our findings on the Volos Ritual Plate to one of our Aggressor Squadrons. They were the dissimilar training instructors who provided simulations of enemy pilots for Pilot training.
That my Flight had some very nice telemetry on the capabilities of those suits was a ribbon in my hair, to say the least. That it both helped the security of my House and advanced my career was a happy coincidence. Then came the debriefing of my noble cadets. They had fared well, and only took a bit of justifiable pride in winning the bet over Wencesla's Fleet cadets.
They still had a few rough edges, but there was only so much a few months of training and a handful of live fire exercises could drill into them.
The real improvement to my mood was due to my mother Clementia coming by for a visit. She had not been able to come by in time for the Feast of DarkStar, but she was here now. Seeing her again almost made up for how I was dressed and how we had spent the day. I wrinkled my nose. Almost.
"You know you don't have to wear the half-veil," Mother Clementia said with a light smile as we sat down in the cafe. It was not my usual place. We had just left the annex to the Upper-Silvan DarkStar Cathedral of Our Hallowed Lady. I was not too familiar with this part of the city, as I normally preformed my obeisance at the family shrine in my Duchess's manor.
But I had been around the Cathedral long enough to know where the better local coffee and pastries could be found. This particular cafe, and the adjacent pub, looked like they had been built out of a corner of a set of row houses. The apartments had been gutted, with the upper half now converted into a large multi-floor atrium that served as a plant nursery and the lower half left for the aforementioned businesses, as well as the and sale and storage of various botanical supplies. It all meant this cafe was still filled with the delicate scents of fresh flowers and rich soil even now, when fall was upon us.
Just below us and down a switchback, a large hotel loomed, all brass accents and bas relief carvings. The banners of minor Houses Crocelli and Vualia fluttered from the entrance and from the heavy presence of hotel detectives and even Imperial Legionaries I supposed the building was hosting some sort of diplomatic summit. It was certainly busy enough, with knots of people out on the hotel's own cafe patio engaged in quiet conversations. I watched them for a moment and shook my head.
"I didn't have to wear the veil during the ceremonies?" I asked, focusing on my mother.
Laughing, she tucked back an errant lock of hair. The rest of her purple hair was hidden behind the long shiny black headdress that fell from the bandeau tightly encircling her brow. A silver four-pointed star adorned the front of the guimpe that draped down from her neck and coif. The rest of her habit consisted of her tall boots, long gloves and a dress below a bodice laced with pale red ribbons
"You know the symbolism." She looked every part a sister of the Order of Our Hallowed Lady. And I looked just as much like a novitiate sister.
Most of the time, it was easy to forget, or at least push aside, the fact that I had taken the simple vows and obligations to the Church of DarkStar. As a novitiate there were no vows of poverty or chastity and it did not interfere with my Legionary career or the noble games from my other mother Duchess SilverFlight.
"Novitiates are to be seen and not heard," I stated. My status as a nun, even a glorified trainee, was hard to ignore when I was wearing my own headdress. Going down to my shoulders, it was far shorter than Mother Clementia's and thus only covered most of my hair; long curled bangs managed to escape.
The ethereal white dress was plain enough, with only some ruffles, a ribbon tie and large black cuffs. Honestly, after having to endure gowns, the dress was more than acceptable, even if it was covered by stars and other DarkStar iconography. The half-veil over my nose and mouth however...
"And I do appreciate you spending time with me," my mother took my hand. "And bearing with our Order."
"Our?"
Clementia smiled. "Dear, you didn't just take the vows to please me. And it's not pressure from the Church, they're more than satisfied with your performance as a relic-bearer. You're dressed this way because of your faith."
I stopped fussing with my half-veil. "Well..." Could I have just not done this? Does this mean I could stop?
My mother squeezed my hand. "What worries you, daughter?"
I did not want to trouble her with my questions of faith. There had been more rumors of DarkStar's return, but those were seemingly evergreen. I had my doubts as to what DarkStar was actually like when she was alive, but I still tried to live my life... well I had always lived to the role set out by society.
"I have Advanced Evasion School next week. Reinhild has been helping me train, but it is intense," I stated.
"Is that it?" Mother asked before pulling back so the somewhat awed and diffident waitress could take our orders.
Which I suppose was fair, given how we were dressed. I was also wearing the ruby-tear-drop ornament of the Preserver Order around my neck.
"She probably doesn't recognize you," Mother assured as the waitress left.
"One upside of having my hair stuffed under this thing," I noted.
"There is a degree of anonymity, but your wings are special even if they don't know who you are," Mother Clementia said.
Fluffing my wings, I laughed ruefully. "Indeed. These things are special enough for an Elenese commander to guess my identity after a mere glimpse of them."
My mother gave a small smile.
"How are things going in the orphanage?" I asked. "I'd like to come and visit for the winter holidays, or maybe the Feast of DarkStar if I'm on leave..."
"The girls are doing well; the Tavosh twins were adopted."
"Oh? The pale girls with short blonde hair and black wings? They did ballet."
My mother nodded. "After learning about you. A nice couple running a tractor and golem repair ship has taken them in. They live over by the barony your VioletBlood runs."
I smiled. "That's good." Maintaining farm equipment was vital work, and in high demand if you were skilled at it.
"Your assistance has been very helpful." Her tail swishing, Clementia took my hand again. "And they'll be delighted to see you."
It was hard to not be embarrassed. It seemed I was doomed to be mobbed by broodlings wherever I went.
"Was it that battle that worried you?"
"It wasn't a battle; I didn't fire a shot."
Clementia waggled a finger. "Daughter, you detonated a bunch of big missiles."
"But no one got hurt!" I did not whine.
"If it's not you risking your life that bothered you...." Clementia observed.
"It bothers you?"
She gave an indulgent little smile that reminded me of when I was very young. "Of course. I worry whenever you deploy and whenever you train." Mother squeezed my hand. "But I'm proud of how you've grown."
I looked down and tried to keep my emotions in check. She was not just being literal. I was still short for my age but I was getting taller and was feeling my fourteen years.
"Tauria, you're not the warmonger the propaganda has made you out to be. I understand that you feel the need to wear a mask, to be a leader for of your girls."
I fidgeted, not sure what to do. I wanted to pull my hand away. I wanted to run off, to fly off. I wanted to climb into her lap and cry. I decided to be stoic. "That's... I'm..."
Her voice was very soft. "I did raise you dear; you're no jingoist. Just consider your Baroness. She's a fine woman but you're not like her. I suppose that's why you also have Miss Shadow, their temperaments are complimentary."
"They are good... companions." I did not like being at a loss for words
Mother Clementia gave me an indulgent look. "They're more than just companions dear."
"No, mother." Intellectually, I had no objections. Years ago LoveBlood had made the case of how an arranged marriage between us would be logical, and given our personalities and interests, would in all likelihood be less than unpleasant. After some initial friction between my Vs, more on VioletBlood's part, Visha had endorsed that plan, after making a place for herself in such a future. Privately, I still felt found some measure of disquiet at the idea of my... social, and not so social, affections being plotted out before me.
But I did not feel strongly enough to object to the whole thing. Maybe if I was being pushed, but Visha took care to rein in LoveBlood whenever she got overly enthusiastic; only occasionally did Victorious have to be literal in that duty.
Thankfully, the waitress had returned bearing out lunches, and I could focus on something else. I was happy to have a reason to undo my veil and pin it to the side.
Mother Clementia had gotten a savory broth, a bowl of some hard cheese, dried fruit and a bit of dried sausage, and a glass of sweet red wine. She did give a small frown at my plate of pastries and coffee.
Her chair creaked as she moved over to sit next to me and hasted the waitress to bring out more broth and another bowl so she could share her "salad".
"Mother, I'm fine."
"I won't have you starving yourself," she said, making sure the second order of broth was before me.
I managed to hold back any pouting as I did picked up the spoon, tail limp.
Giving a satisfied nod, she began eating. "How are your studies going?"
At least the broth was good. "I'm doing well. The classes are interesting."
"Are you making new friends?"
"Mother, I'm a Primus Centurion," I said sternly, without whining. "I'm training Cadets and will soon have squadron command..."I trailed off.
"Dear?"
"It's nothing."
My mother looked down at me.
"Magnus Quirinus, my squadron leader before I went here for the War College?"
"Yes, she seemed like a lovely and competent woman when I met her at your twelve birthday party."
"She just got her promotion to Tribune," I admitted.
"Did you send her a congratulatory letter?"
"Of course," I snorted. "And she'll soon be commanding a Demi-Wing."
Mother Clementia sipped some of her broth then ate some cheese. "And you'll be promoted to Prefect Centurion after your studies here," she noted.
"If things go to plan, in charge of one of Tribune Quirinus's four squadrons," I noted and went back to eating.
"You don't sound too happy."
"I'm just preoccupied with how I'll have to fill out a squadron. That'll be eight more Pilots. I'll also need three Primus Centurions, though I have ideas on two of those slots." I sipped some coffee. "Not to mention training them to be proficient with Polyxo RP, having them up to work as a team and then integrating them all with Quirinus's other Squadrons."
"Oh, is that all that weighs your mind?" She put her arm around me and pulled me into a hug.
As I leaned onto her, I might have started to purr.
"I don't want to burden you with my fears," Mother Clementia said as she squeezed me a bit tighter.
"It's... it's not a burden," I replied, my tail swishing. "I shouldn't have signed up so young."
Clementia gave a little laugh. "I would lie if I said your age was not a part of my fears but I'll still worry even when you're fully grown with broodlings of your own."
"Um, but..." My heart sped up. "That's a long way off."
"Yes, I know even when you're old enough, there's regulations about pregnancy when on active duty. I'm in no rush for grandkids, daughter." There was a tiny bit of gratitude tinged with wistfulness in her voice. Given my mother's vows, I doubted she expected to ever have a daughter, let alone granddaughters.
"There's time..." Sighing, I relaxed into the hug. "I've got time. Tribune Quirinus has her own training, and I have to finish the current set of courses at the War College." It was not enough for a degree, but I could resume my studies and distance learning was always an option. "Not to mention the rest of my Flight and our Ritualista have their own lessons."
"And your lessons at Mima Lumina," Mother Clementia added with a tease.
My tail stilled. "Yes, Mother. Duchess SilverFlight was very... generous in arranging VioletBlood and myself to receive such tutoring."
My mother resumed eating. "Is it that bad to go to a school with girls your own age? Mima Lumina is a very prestigious school."
I tried not to glare. "It's not a full course load, just some private instruction." The idea of spending forty to fifty hours a week in some sort of prissy school for nobles set my teeth on edge. It was more than just a waste of time; the limited amount of interaction was bad enough. At least with my cadets I always had the option to flog them.
"Ah, something like finishing school? I suppose you... is the term 'sword nobles'? I suppose you do need some polishing to get along in high society." Mother Clementia's tone was playfully teasing.
I did not growl, at least certainly not at her.
"Is it that bad? I knew you grit your fangs at the various deportment and attitude lessons when you were a broodling, but you still volunteered to take extra classes."
Exhaling, I calmed myself; that was easier in Mother's presence. "I agree with the utility of the classes, and I am learning from them, but I still have my private complaints that I have to take such classes."
Clementia laughed. "Ah, the Legionary's right to complain?"
"Something like that," I admitted before having more broth.
I felt my mother's curiosity as we both ate. After a couple minutes I decided to explain myself.
"It's the sinking realization that learning how to navigate the social minefields that come from dealing with spoiled teenage girls may very well aide me when dealing with noble intrigue or Legion and Fleet officers."
"I can only speak for the social dynamics of the ecclesiastical world, but you're not wrong."
I frowned. "Sometimes I feel like everyone is a crazy demon, or at least immature, and that everyone is really my age, they just look like adults. That I'm older than I... look." Wincing at my near slipup, I thought of Lady HoofBridge and her views on throwing my Flight at our largest rival as a bit of sabre-rattling.
"I'll confess, daughter, most adults are faking it."
I sighed. "That conclusion has become inescapable."
"You have always been a very sensible and sober young girl," my Mother agreed. She left unstated that that was part of why I was never adopted when I was at the orphanage. Sometimes I wondered what my life would be like if I was adopted by more... conventional parents. If I had been raised by women of more normal jobs and status. I presume I would have been happy in some small town, maybe I'd work as a scrivener or some sort of clerk, but I still would have had my affinity for Zephyr.
And I would have come under pressure to sign up, to do my part. I have been in a situation similar to Visha. I continued to ponder as I ate. Unless I once again found patronage, I would not have been in a cadet program, so I would have signed onto BlackSkyvian service earlier, and I would have had far less time to train.
I could feel my mother's amusement. She rarely pestered me when I was pondering and was happy to enjoy companionable silence. It was a shame I had to wear this headdress, part of me wanted her to brush my hair. But she had a meal to eat too.
The meal ended and I felt some regret, in part because I had to put my half-veil back on but mostly because I had to say goodbye to mother Clementia for the rest of the day.
"We will be having dinner," she promised, giving me a hug after I paid for the lunch.
I nodded.
"You can tag along if you want. It's rather dry fiscal allocations of tithes and endowments, but," she gestured to how I was dressed, "you are qualified to sit in."
My tail flicked. It was a tempting offer. Over the last two years I had learned more about how charitable donations worked under Silvan law and the tax codes that the nobility operated under. Due to our privileged status, our fiscal records were far less private than those of commoners. I could see the arguments in favor of this arrangement. Our tax code was simple in a way that warmed my heart, but it could be circumvented. I could also see it as a means for the Imperatrix to keep a check on powerful factions while also being aware of their resources and assets.
"Thank you for the offer." I bowed my horns. "Normally, I would accept but I have an appointment this afternoon with my Logistics instructor on a project that she thinks can be presented for formal review."
She returned the bow, then with a smile pulled me into another hug. "I'll take notes and we can go over them at dinner."
I smiled and with some reluctance we separated. She went on her way to the cathedral and I started walking down. There was a funicular station opposite that grand hotel.
++++++++++
I strode down the stone stairs with purpose, only somewhat self-conscious about how I was dressed. Normally, I wore my Legion uniform when out in the city, so it was interesting to see the contrast in how I was treated.
Admittedly, in both cases I was given a respectful diffidence. However, a novitiate Sister of the Order of our Hallowed Lady was given more of the respect of the institution. Whereas, on the other wing, the awards, specialization, and rank of my Legionary uniform, or the hair pins I could wear when out of uniform, had people more agog at my personal achievements. Even moreso when they realized how young I was to be wearing those badges of rank and accomplishment.
A young teenage novitiate Sister was normal. A decorated teenage Volantes Ace and Flight Leader was something else.
I waited for the traffic to thin at the crosswalk. The funicular station was just across the street next to the small glen of a park. Before I could cross, a panicked bellhop ran up to me, her wings akimbo and her tail flailing.
With honey-blonde hair that was pinned up in her pillbox cap, she was dressed as if she were some grand army marshal with more gold braid than a Luxon dress uniform and more frogging than a Trosic admiral. The green uniform managed to be ostentatious and servile.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm so sorry, Sister," the bellhop bowed her head, gasping. Held in her hands was a silver-edged calling card. She paused to gather herself and inhaled. "Are you Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust?" she asked in the tumbling rush of someone who only recently was told something she had to memorize.
"I am. What's this about?'
"I'm sorry!" she repeated with another bow. "The Diyu Continental has been honored to host embassies from both Houses Crocelli and House Vualia while they discuss matters of import."
I glanced at the hotel's grandiose frontage, all that heroic statuary made mundane by their placement overlooking a loading and unloading zone full of various vehicles. "Yes, I noticed the banners."
While not exactly neighbors, both minor Houses were south of House BlackSky across the Gaudia Sea: Crocelli on the western side of Diyu, Vualia across from the eastern end of the continent.
More than the fluttering banners hanging in front of the lobby, there were plenty of people sitting and talking in the little groups, as I had noticed earlier. Not to mention the abundance of security personnel from all three Houses in attendance, plus the private forces of the Continental. One woman with orange hair and sober business-wear caught my eye. She was with a cluster of people out having a smoke.
"One of the attendees begs the indulgence of a moment of your time," the bellhop held out the card by the far corners to make sure we did not inadvertently touch when I took it.
I opened the card and it took effort to not set it aflame, let alone to not shred it with my claws. "Ah..." I read it again and looked up at the banners. They were still just the emerald green over black of House Crocelli and the seafoam and sapphire of House Vualia.
I did not see the banner for House Ziox: a chevron of silver wings over a wheat-gold disk on a red and blue background. I did not want to create a scene; I was already attracting some attention.
My tail straightened. "Please give Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor my regards, but alas I will not be able to meet with her today." I had no interest in meeting the sister of the War Mistress who had tried to abduct and brainwash me.
"Are you sure about that, Countess?" an orange-haired woman in a sober black jacket, bodice, and grey skirt asked, suddenly at my side. She had magenta skin, neat bangs and a ponytail. Behind her gold-framed glasses her eyes twinkled. At least the librarian had done the courtesy of not actively puffing on her slim cigar as she approached.
"Librarian Evadne," I bowed my horns and then waved the calling card. "Are you sure about this?"
Her tail curling, the bellhop looked between us. "If there's nothing else?" She wanted out of this situation - quite the sensible girl.
"Oh yes, the Countess will deal with the matter personally," Evadne assured.
The hotel staffer took her chance and scurried back to the protection of the hotel.
"I do hope you'll do me this favor," the Librarian brightly said.
I frowned at her. "Unless my memory of Ortov is faulty, wouldn't the favor go the other way?"
Her smile grew. "Don't you want more favors from the Librarius?"
I stared.
"Ah, wise for one so young." She studied her cigar and pouted; the end had gone out. "I can't force you to talk with Samoth."
"Why is she even here? How did she get into the country?"
"House Vualia has hired her as a consultant to evaluate their Ritual Plate Corps. She's part of their delegation at this summit as a military attaché. And as long as she stays on the grounds and comports herself, Kapten Rodswor is entitled to the protections of being part of the Vualian embassy." Evadne shrugged.
"Oh, House Crocelli must love that." My wings twitched as I pinched the bridge of my nose. The woman who trained Diluvian separatist Pilots would be sitting across the negotiating table from House Crocelli.
"Yes, I dare say bringing her was a way to thumb their nose at them," Evadne agreed.
"Haven't she and her mercenary band fought Crocelli's forces directly?" I added. "They've certainly fought ours."
"Yes, Queen Vualia isn't dueling with blunted swords in these negotiations. She's needling both Crocelli and us as the hosting House. There is some elegance as Rodswor does have an expertise and with her status as a sell-sword her actions cannot be, officially, blamed on Ziox." Evadne shrugged elegantly. "As far as we know, she has not done anything aggressive at all while in service to Vualia."
"And you want to bring me into a spat between Minor Houses separated by the Gaudia Sea?" I asked, looking for some way to get out of this diplomatic intrigue.
Laughing, Evadne snapped her fingers and relit her cigar. "Oh no, I don't want you to talk to the younger Rodswor to smooth over some mere trade deal. I want you to figure out why Samoth wants to talk to you."
Frowning, I glanced at the hotel. I did not want to get further into this mess. The Rodswor family had been a problem for me for years. "This is a diplomatic event."
"And you're being invited." The librarian looked me over. "And I suppose your garment helps make you look pious and non-threatening, Sister."
I glared.
"Do you have a sidearm under that dress?"
Confusion grew as I blinked up at her. I did have a few firearms, mostly what I had to purchase as a BlackSkyvian Imperial Legionary. Despite being a Legion Flier we were expected to be proficient in small arms. My Duchess also had a fair number of hunting pieces not to mention the equipment of her non Ritual Plate mercenaries. There was also my maid Reinhild's collection.
I rarely carried a sidearm, and the last time I had to use my Mark 36 battle rifle was a particularly bad night in FOB EmeraldInferno almost a year ago when Diluvian raiders almost snuck through the wire and into the Forward Base.
"Do you want one?" she lightly asked in that amused inquisitiveness that seemed a hallmark of her profession.
"What about security?"
"What about it?" she happily retorted, tail swishing.
"Personally, I'd rather have time to change."
"You look good." The Librarian smiled. "I would appreciate your help in this, but if you have an appointment, please, don't let me detain you."
I look at the sparkling eyes behind those slim glasses. My tail went limp as I sighed. "Fine, I'll do my part."
Grinning, Evadne clapped her hands, turned on her heel, and started walking back to the hotel. I trudged after her.
The interior lobby of the hotel was cool and I was breezed past various guards, security, and overly ornamented servants. Somewhere in the process I lost the Librarian and found myself alone by the reception desk holding the silver-edged card.
There was a gentle gust and the air got a bit more comfortable. Before I could call to the receptionist, the nervous honey-blonde bellhop intercepted me. "Countess? If you'll follow me."
Going through a few more layers of security surrounding the chatting diplomats, I was thankful that I wore the Preserver Order award. A couple checkpoints actually asked to verify my identification and my invitation. It was reassuring that someone could not just dress up like a trainee nun and sneak in. The bellhop led back out to a rear portico.
There were a few people sitting at the tables. More than a few eyes fell upon me, but my attention was at the willowy woman sitting at a table shaded by a poplar tree. I had only seen photos of her from CSR and other intelligence briefings, but it was her.
With confident air, I strode over. She already had a cup on a saucer.
Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor was a bit duskier than her sister with a light bronze coloration. She had the same hard amber eyes and close-cropped black hair. She looked younger than her late sister, even a bit more youthful than the dossier CSR had on her. Her frosty smile was just slightly warmer than the cold elegance Zaphania had born.
That is until I surprised, killed, and fed upon the War Mistress.
"Countess, or do you prefer Primus Centurion? Please, sit. I don't want to offend, I know how precious noble titles and war-like reputations are to you BlackSkyvians," Samoth flashed her fangs. Old hatred, worn comfortable by time and use, radiated from her. The pilot wore a dark purple jacket with matching slacks and a white shirt. A silver feather, a symbol of House Ziox, was on one lapel with a gold quiver full of arrows denoting her command of a mercenary company on the other. Lavender horns curled out of her brow and her wings were folded back as her tail was curled onto her lap.
I sat and stared at her.
"Taller than I expected, but it has been two years." She tilted her head and sipped some tea. "I sent you a calling card. No doubt it's already at that up-slope mansion of your mother's. She did reward you handsomely for what you did."
"The War Mistress attacked me."
Samoth gave that chill smile. "Yes. I had hoped to maybe talk to you later, but then," she gestured up to the block at a higher elevation where the cathedral and that cafe were, "but then, I saw you. And you were all dressed up for church. Maybe your Lady DarkStar wanted us to meet?"
"If she did, wouldn't we both be in the skies in our armor and not at a diplomatic summit?" I snapped back.
She laughed. "Oh, you almost sound like you believe that. Come Countess, do you actually fool people with this lady warrior thing?"
"Do you? With your righteous vengeance?"
"Oh Countess, you know that the best lies have a kernel of truth to prop them up." She gave a laugh made all the more disturbing for the genuine mirth. "I know you've been making inquiries, using your Mother's connections, maybe some of your personal networks. Good little nobles who want an honorable duel wouldn't do such things."
I folded my hands on the table. "What is it that you want?"
She sipped her tea. "It's not enough that we should meet face to face at least once before we settle this tawdry feud?"
"The failings of your family have little to do with me. Any other Legion Flier would have caused you the same trouble."
There was that laugh again. "Oh, if we're playing up to arrogant stereotypes then perhaps I should bring up my ancestors, or maybe I should have worn a headdress too."
"What do you want?" I repeated.
"I heard you had a spot of trouble with House Elena recently." The woman squared her teacup on the saucer and pushed it to one side.
"I wouldn't say that." House Ziox was ambivalent at best towards House Elena. Mostly it was because the smaller great House had enough wars and rivals and could ill afford to have yet another enemy. House Elena's feelings were more complicated as they were staunch allies of House Luxon, one of Ziox's traditional foes.
"No, you wouldn't," Samoths' tail flicked out of her lap. "Countess, yes for this, it's Countess, I'm a mercenary."
I gave a small smile. Samoth was only a mercenary because that gave House Ziox plausible deniability.
"Don't you get haughty to me, your own mother, the Duchess, is a sell-sword," Samoth spat. "That's why I'm even talking with you." She took out a bronze tuning fork. It had the slightly more angular engravings of Zioxan enchantments, but I recognize the device. Especially, after she struck it on the side of the table. The vibrations were prickly to my horns.
I blinked at the little privacy generator. My Duchess often used such devices... during similar meetings.. "I'm sorry, perhaps you could clarify?"
Amber eyes smoldered at me as she leaned back. "I know you don't trust me, and have no idea how much it galls me to come to you, of all people on Diyu." She flexed her hands and the air at her back became blustery. "But.... I am a businesswoman, thanks to you, Countess. And I have something to sell, something your mother, or maybe some of your less savory friends may be very interested in."
I squared my shoulders. So this was Great House politics. "What do you have in mind, Kapten Rodswor?"
End Chapter 19
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
Sorry about the back to back cliffhangers (and 19 being a bit short), but chapter 20 is well underway and shouldn't take too long to finish. And I got some new art to post.
Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 19: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 2
High over Lacus Superum on our northern border with House Elena, my Flight had been sent to investigate an Elenese Recon Squadron watching our training exercise. It turned out they were in fact a Vanguard Strike unit of four Squadrons, including nearly forty of their latest Volos air-superiority suits.
We were hilariously outnumbered. From Norden to Narvos to a dozen of other grubby hellholes, my troops and I had struggled against the odds. This time, it was twelve to one. I had beaten something... close to that before, but War Mistress Rodswor had been overconfident, had toyed with me, and had allowed me to defeat her forces in detail.
I saw no such faults with Pukovnik Armin. Her Pilots' equipment was roughly comparable to ours, Elena's training was thoroughly acceptable, and they had the additional advantage of a quartet of advanced Recon suits. We had only talked briefly, but she seemed sensible enough, a far cry from the ranting War Mistress. I was counting on that.
Backup was en route, icons from the medium carrier Hornet's escorts and RP squadrons were tantalizingly close on my map display, but moving with aching slowness. Except for a pair of Ascalon Torpedoes racing across the sky; those icons were quite fast.
Our heading was not directly towards the Volos Squadrons. They had come in using a textbook formation where each Squadron was supported by the other. Two were spread out in staggered chevrons side by side with the third higher and in between.
Even at cruise speed, they had impressive enough Veiling systems. At least House Elena was getting something out of the money they'd sunk into the project. However, with my Flight using Gorgon Rigs on active, we were more than able to keep our eyes on them, or close enough that it made little practical difference.
I started to bend the course of my Flight, feigning an attempt to evade and slip past the Volos Squadrons and get to the Recon Squadron. The Elenese reacted just as I was expecting, moving to protect those four exceedingly valuable Recon suits. It amused me a bit because three dozen stealth suits were far more expensive than four Mokoshs.
But I could respect wanting to protect your not-as-frontline comrades. That respect did not preclude me from taking advantage of their impulse, or their training to draw out more time. Anything for just that much more time.
"What is the plan, Ma'am?" GreyDawn asked.
"We're going to talk," I replied. It was a plan that had almost worked before. But now I had an idea what fears were driving the Elenese commander
My Flight took a moment to process that.
"With a pair of Torpedoes at our back?" GreyDawn clarified while VioletBlood made a gleeful noise.
I glanced at the Display. "Oh, they're no longer at our back."
Like all supersonic Fujiwara Torpedoes, the Ascalon cruised at a bit below Mach three. However, for the terminal phase it sprinted up to three and half times the speed of sound.
Taking a sip of water, I made one request to the Fleet before switching to the open channel. " Pukovnik Armin. Pukovnik Armin. Are you still lost? Do you need navigational assistance."
There was a beat as I watched the pair of Ascalons race past my Flight. The Volos Squadrons knew they were coming and had started to break into sub formations. Which was why BlackSkyvian doctrine was to fire Torpedoes carrying clusters of anti-air missiles.
The enemy squadrons also knew this and figured they had a bit more range. Which was why I blew the Torpedoes early. A pair of miniature suns flared in the sky as enough high energy ordnance to blow through two capital ships detonated.
The Volos squadrons were already breaking and maneuvering as if they were about to be plagued by Vel Missiles. And while forty missiles for thirty-six Pilots was not great, for an elite unit equipped with the best Elena had to offer, they had to think their chances were good. Instead, their wards flared and flashed as the shockwaves buffeted both of them.
"They didn't expect that!" VioletBlood's glee was infectious as the three enemy squadrons took a moment to recover and get back into good order.
"Countess, what game are you playing?" Pukovnik Emilia Armin demanded over the open channel.
"Look, we could all fight, and waste a lot of money, lives, and equipment. You've got the numbers to run my Flight down and kill us. But it will cost you. How many of your latest Ritual Plate are you willing to sacrifice? What about your commanding Brigadir? Is House Elena willing to gut their Volos Pilot corps tonight? And for what? Observations on a cadets' training exercise?"
And on my signal another pair of Torpedoes launched from the Kestrel.
"What are you afraid of?" I pressed. "That this isn't a training mission. That someone with my reputation couldn't possibly be babysitting a bunch of cadets. There's just a medium carrier group behind me. The Hornet is barely enough for a raid, but... she is enough to take out your Vanguard Strike unit," I kept my tone even. From what I recalled, there were no significant forces from the First Home Fleet on maneuvers at this latitude tonight. If I were wrong and a Fleet Carrier or two or, DarkStar forbid, a Heavy Air Trinity were up north near the border with Elena then my words would be far from calming.
Despite the risk. I put as much magnanimity in my voice as I could. "Or... you can leave with your shiny suits. And the intel you gathered tonight. In time, you can figure out what the cadets were fighting against based on how they were moving."
Nearly forty Volos air-superiority suits had reoriented themselves and had resumed their closing course, but this time spread out on far wider frontage. It made them more likely to survive a Torpedo strike but more susceptible to being defeated in detail by opposing Ritual Plate.
There was a low chuckle from the Elenese commander. "This isn't the first time you've used yourself as bait, Countess."
"Far from it, Emilia. The question is: will you step into the trap? Are you no better than the wildcat Ziox or the cavalier Trosier?"
"Yes, yes, next you'll point out that even our dissolute allies in Luxon realized the wisdom of not fighting you." Pukovnik Armin sighed. "I speak unveiled on the honor of Elena; you have my bond if I have your oath."
"You exaggerate and flatter me, Emilia," I said as if this were a ball and we were exchanging calling cards. "But yes, Pukovnik, you have my word in the Imperatrix's name and on DarkStar's blood, that if your forces leave in good order we will not fire upon you."
"My, the broadsheets and newsreels didn't stray too far from the truth with you, did they?" Emilia laughed. She then switched to Thokavian which Visha translated for our Flight. "All forces do not engage. Repeat, do not engage. Change bearing and take the least time route to cross the joint transit corridor. We are done here."
There was a pause, no doubt them checking that confirmation on a secured comm channel, but then the enemy forces did a quick turn that for a brief moment left them exposed to a counter-strike.
Instead, I remote-detonated the two inbound Torpedoes. They were still far enough away to cause no harm to our... guests.
Watching the squadrons retreat, a shiver went through me, but I ordered my Flight to follow a respectful distance behind. Our cruising was sedate, our heading was steady and predictable, and our scrying remained on active.
"Flight Ops this is Diamond Actual," I stated after drinking a bit of heated broth. "Elenese Recon Squadron has been investigated. Further Elena assets, Volos model RP, were discovered totaling Demi-Wing strength. We are escorting them back out of contested airspace."
"Uh. Confirm Diamond Flight," the dispatcher said. "One moment."
"Standby."
"Ma'am, you are aware you were using the open channel to talk to your new friend, Emilia?" GreyDawn inquired over the Flight channel.
"How else would we communicate? We didn't set up a private broadcast channel." I replied. While there were established procedures outlining limited comms sharing with allies, House Elena was far from an our ally, and sharing a direct comm link would have violated protocol.
"What she means is that everyone could listen in. All the Pilots on both sides, the Fleet units, even our cadets and any civilians monitoring that channel," Visha explained.
My tail stilled as we flew. "Ah, an excellent point."
"It was a great feat of domination, Countess!" VioletBlood cheered. "You showed everyone who was in charge."
I was, briefly, thankful when Flight Ops interrupted. "Diamond Actual, I have Hornet Actual."
And then my heart sank.
"Praefectus Commodore Lady Eliza Bellus HoofBridge, a pleasure," I greeted the carrier's commander formally. I tensed. It looked like she was not even going to wait until I got back to her ship to chew me out.
"Primus Centurion Countess DiamondDust, I am sorry," Praefectus HoofBridge said with a mix of regret and surprised satisfaction.
"You're... what?" I blurted out, many lessons on deportment and how to communicate with superiors tumbling out of my mind in shock.
"Oh, it's not a formal Apology. Though knowing your mother... if things had gone..." She laughed as if sending four Pilots out to potential doom was just a part of the job. Which, indeed, it was. "Regardless, I am sorry that you did not get to wet your claws. I commend you on your restraint."
"Ah. It was a bit trying at moments." That was the truth. I took in the map. The training exercise was long done, but the Fleet assets, both airships Ritual Plate, and many cadets had been moving to the north. No wonder Pukovnik Armin decided to take her forces back to the Elenese side of the great lake.
"I know it must have galled you to just let them go like that, but we both know those Recon suits likely already transmitted whatever intel they had gathered from the exercise. And while you might not have been able to give those Volos suits a bloody nose, your own Gorgon Rigs have been giving us good telemetry and more on them."
"I... I suppose we'll have to be satisfied with that," I allowed. "I do wonder just why they had a full Vanguard Strike unit out here."
"Maybe they were testing our scrying systems to see when we'd spot their new Volos suits?"
"That is a possibility, Ma'am. They set up that Recon Squadron. They'll learn a bit more about our training, but the real lesson was seeing when we would respond and if we would notice a few squadrons of their new stealth fighter suits lying doggo."
"Perhaps, Countess. They could also have been going off on some other mission and were close enough to backup that Recon Squad. That's a question for Fleet Intel, or CSR if they find that level of skullduggery worth it."
"I'd be happy to help," I replied with forced gusto. The Household Fleet Intelligence service was not so bad, if a bit stuffier than the Imperial Legion's equivalent. Both focused on military intelligence and had counter-intel branches to secure facilities and guard against subornation and infiltration. All logical stuff with focused remits. It was the Office of Cultural Reconnaissance, and their far broader charter, that worried me.
"Good, I've sent my Second Squadron out to relieve you, though some of Kestrel's girls may beat them to the punch. After that, I request you get back on my ship and take the rest of the night off. I don't want you getting back out into the sky and trying to find your new Elenese friend."
I gave a laugh that wheezed with all the build up stress escaping. Of course HoofBridge thought I was just as bloody-minded as she was. "We can do that, Hornet Actual."
++++++++++
Early autumn was a lovely time in the City of Trees. The air was starting to grow cooler and the leaves were turning but had yet to fall. A festive air hung over the city as the various faiths present in Silvana prepared for the major holidays concentrated in the next few months. Some of the celebrations were cloyingly commercialized or overly sanctimonious and generally tedious, but the overall melange was charming enough.
I suppose my mood was elevated by recent events. The whole incident north of the Adria Testing Range had terminated in debriefings, including a detailed review of my Flight's scrying intake. The clouds of hyped reputation and endless meetings even had a silver lining, as I got to present our findings on the Volos Ritual Plate to one of our Aggressor Squadrons. They were the dissimilar training instructors who provided simulations of enemy pilots for Pilot training.
That my Flight had some very nice telemetry on the capabilities of those suits was a ribbon in my hair, to say the least. That it both helped the security of my House and advanced my career was a happy coincidence. Then came the debriefing of my noble cadets. They had fared well, and only took a bit of justifiable pride in winning the bet over Wencesla's Fleet cadets.
They still had a few rough edges, but there was only so much a few months of training and a handful of live fire exercises could drill into them.
The real improvement to my mood was due to my mother Clementia coming by for a visit. She had not been able to come by in time for the Feast of DarkStar, but she was here now. Seeing her again almost made up for how I was dressed and how we had spent the day. I wrinkled my nose. Almost.
"You know you don't have to wear the half-veil," Mother Clementia said with a light smile as we sat down in the cafe. It was not my usual place. We had just left the annex to the Upper-Silvan DarkStar Cathedral of Our Hallowed Lady. I was not too familiar with this part of the city, as I normally preformed my obeisance at the family shrine in my Duchess's manor.
But I had been around the Cathedral long enough to know where the better local coffee and pastries could be found. This particular cafe, and the adjacent pub, looked like they had been built out of a corner of a set of row houses. The apartments had been gutted, with the upper half now converted into a large multi-floor atrium that served as a plant nursery and the lower half left for the aforementioned businesses, as well as the and sale and storage of various botanical supplies. It all meant this cafe was still filled with the delicate scents of fresh flowers and rich soil even now, when fall was upon us.
Just below us and down a switchback, a large hotel loomed, all brass accents and bas relief carvings. The banners of minor Houses Crocelli and Vualia fluttered from the entrance and from the heavy presence of hotel detectives and even Imperial Legionaries I supposed the building was hosting some sort of diplomatic summit. It was certainly busy enough, with knots of people out on the hotel's own cafe patio engaged in quiet conversations. I watched them for a moment and shook my head.
"I didn't have to wear the veil during the ceremonies?" I asked, focusing on my mother.
Laughing, she tucked back an errant lock of hair. The rest of her purple hair was hidden behind the long shiny black headdress that fell from the bandeau tightly encircling her brow. A silver four-pointed star adorned the front of the guimpe that draped down from her neck and coif. The rest of her habit consisted of her tall boots, long gloves and a dress below a bodice laced with pale red ribbons
"You know the symbolism." She looked every part a sister of the Order of Our Hallowed Lady. And I looked just as much like a novitiate sister.
Most of the time, it was easy to forget, or at least push aside, the fact that I had taken the simple vows and obligations to the Church of DarkStar. As a novitiate there were no vows of poverty or chastity and it did not interfere with my Legionary career or the noble games from my other mother Duchess SilverFlight.
"Novitiates are to be seen and not heard," I stated. My status as a nun, even a glorified trainee, was hard to ignore when I was wearing my own headdress. Going down to my shoulders, it was far shorter than Mother Clementia's and thus only covered most of my hair; long curled bangs managed to escape.
The ethereal white dress was plain enough, with only some ruffles, a ribbon tie and large black cuffs. Honestly, after having to endure gowns, the dress was more than acceptable, even if it was covered by stars and other DarkStar iconography. The half-veil over my nose and mouth however...
"And I do appreciate you spending time with me," my mother took my hand. "And bearing with our Order."
"Our?"
Clementia smiled. "Dear, you didn't just take the vows to please me. And it's not pressure from the Church, they're more than satisfied with your performance as a relic-bearer. You're dressed this way because of your faith."
I stopped fussing with my half-veil. "Well..." Could I have just not done this? Does this mean I could stop?
My mother squeezed my hand. "What worries you, daughter?"
I did not want to trouble her with my questions of faith. There had been more rumors of DarkStar's return, but those were seemingly evergreen. I had my doubts as to what DarkStar was actually like when she was alive, but I still tried to live my life... well I had always lived to the role set out by society.
"I have Advanced Evasion School next week. Reinhild has been helping me train, but it is intense," I stated.
"Is that it?" Mother asked before pulling back so the somewhat awed and diffident waitress could take our orders.
Which I suppose was fair, given how we were dressed. I was also wearing the ruby-tear-drop ornament of the Preserver Order around my neck.
"She probably doesn't recognize you," Mother assured as the waitress left.
"One upside of having my hair stuffed under this thing," I noted.
"There is a degree of anonymity, but your wings are special even if they don't know who you are," Mother Clementia said.
Fluffing my wings, I laughed ruefully. "Indeed. These things are special enough for an Elenese commander to guess my identity after a mere glimpse of them."
My mother gave a small smile.
"How are things going in the orphanage?" I asked. "I'd like to come and visit for the winter holidays, or maybe the Feast of DarkStar if I'm on leave..."
"The girls are doing well; the Tavosh twins were adopted."
"Oh? The pale girls with short blonde hair and black wings? They did ballet."
My mother nodded. "After learning about you. A nice couple running a tractor and golem repair ship has taken them in. They live over by the barony your VioletBlood runs."
I smiled. "That's good." Maintaining farm equipment was vital work, and in high demand if you were skilled at it.
"Your assistance has been very helpful." Her tail swishing, Clementia took my hand again. "And they'll be delighted to see you."
It was hard to not be embarrassed. It seemed I was doomed to be mobbed by broodlings wherever I went.
"Was it that battle that worried you?"
"It wasn't a battle; I didn't fire a shot."
Clementia waggled a finger. "Daughter, you detonated a bunch of big missiles."
"But no one got hurt!" I did not whine.
"If it's not you risking your life that bothered you...." Clementia observed.
"It bothers you?"
She gave an indulgent little smile that reminded me of when I was very young. "Of course. I worry whenever you deploy and whenever you train." Mother squeezed my hand. "But I'm proud of how you've grown."
I looked down and tried to keep my emotions in check. She was not just being literal. I was still short for my age but I was getting taller and was feeling my fourteen years.
"Tauria, you're not the warmonger the propaganda has made you out to be. I understand that you feel the need to wear a mask, to be a leader for of your girls."
I fidgeted, not sure what to do. I wanted to pull my hand away. I wanted to run off, to fly off. I wanted to climb into her lap and cry. I decided to be stoic. "That's... I'm..."
Her voice was very soft. "I did raise you dear; you're no jingoist. Just consider your Baroness. She's a fine woman but you're not like her. I suppose that's why you also have Miss Shadow, their temperaments are complimentary."
"They are good... companions." I did not like being at a loss for words
Mother Clementia gave me an indulgent look. "They're more than just companions dear."
"No, mother." Intellectually, I had no objections. Years ago LoveBlood had made the case of how an arranged marriage between us would be logical, and given our personalities and interests, would in all likelihood be less than unpleasant. After some initial friction between my Vs, more on VioletBlood's part, Visha had endorsed that plan, after making a place for herself in such a future. Privately, I still felt found some measure of disquiet at the idea of my... social, and not so social, affections being plotted out before me.
But I did not feel strongly enough to object to the whole thing. Maybe if I was being pushed, but Visha took care to rein in LoveBlood whenever she got overly enthusiastic; only occasionally did Victorious have to be literal in that duty.
Thankfully, the waitress had returned bearing out lunches, and I could focus on something else. I was happy to have a reason to undo my veil and pin it to the side.
Mother Clementia had gotten a savory broth, a bowl of some hard cheese, dried fruit and a bit of dried sausage, and a glass of sweet red wine. She did give a small frown at my plate of pastries and coffee.
Her chair creaked as she moved over to sit next to me and hasted the waitress to bring out more broth and another bowl so she could share her "salad".
"Mother, I'm fine."
"I won't have you starving yourself," she said, making sure the second order of broth was before me.
I managed to hold back any pouting as I did picked up the spoon, tail limp.
Giving a satisfied nod, she began eating. "How are your studies going?"
At least the broth was good. "I'm doing well. The classes are interesting."
"Are you making new friends?"
"Mother, I'm a Primus Centurion," I said sternly, without whining. "I'm training Cadets and will soon have squadron command..."I trailed off.
"Dear?"
"It's nothing."
My mother looked down at me.
"Magnus Quirinus, my squadron leader before I went here for the War College?"
"Yes, she seemed like a lovely and competent woman when I met her at your twelve birthday party."
"She just got her promotion to Tribune," I admitted.
"Did you send her a congratulatory letter?"
"Of course," I snorted. "And she'll soon be commanding a Demi-Wing."
Mother Clementia sipped some of her broth then ate some cheese. "And you'll be promoted to Prefect Centurion after your studies here," she noted.
"If things go to plan, in charge of one of Tribune Quirinus's four squadrons," I noted and went back to eating.
"You don't sound too happy."
"I'm just preoccupied with how I'll have to fill out a squadron. That'll be eight more Pilots. I'll also need three Primus Centurions, though I have ideas on two of those slots." I sipped some coffee. "Not to mention training them to be proficient with Polyxo RP, having them up to work as a team and then integrating them all with Quirinus's other Squadrons."
"Oh, is that all that weighs your mind?" She put her arm around me and pulled me into a hug.
As I leaned onto her, I might have started to purr.
"I don't want to burden you with my fears," Mother Clementia said as she squeezed me a bit tighter.
"It's... it's not a burden," I replied, my tail swishing. "I shouldn't have signed up so young."
Clementia gave a little laugh. "I would lie if I said your age was not a part of my fears but I'll still worry even when you're fully grown with broodlings of your own."
"Um, but..." My heart sped up. "That's a long way off."
"Yes, I know even when you're old enough, there's regulations about pregnancy when on active duty. I'm in no rush for grandkids, daughter." There was a tiny bit of gratitude tinged with wistfulness in her voice. Given my mother's vows, I doubted she expected to ever have a daughter, let alone granddaughters.
"There's time..." Sighing, I relaxed into the hug. "I've got time. Tribune Quirinus has her own training, and I have to finish the current set of courses at the War College." It was not enough for a degree, but I could resume my studies and distance learning was always an option. "Not to mention the rest of my Flight and our Ritualista have their own lessons."
"And your lessons at Mima Lumina," Mother Clementia added with a tease.
My tail stilled. "Yes, Mother. Duchess SilverFlight was very... generous in arranging VioletBlood and myself to receive such tutoring."
My mother resumed eating. "Is it that bad to go to a school with girls your own age? Mima Lumina is a very prestigious school."
I tried not to glare. "It's not a full course load, just some private instruction." The idea of spending forty to fifty hours a week in some sort of prissy school for nobles set my teeth on edge. It was more than just a waste of time; the limited amount of interaction was bad enough. At least with my cadets I always had the option to flog them.
"Ah, something like finishing school? I suppose you... is the term 'sword nobles'? I suppose you do need some polishing to get along in high society." Mother Clementia's tone was playfully teasing.
I did not growl, at least certainly not at her.
"Is it that bad? I knew you grit your fangs at the various deportment and attitude lessons when you were a broodling, but you still volunteered to take extra classes."
Exhaling, I calmed myself; that was easier in Mother's presence. "I agree with the utility of the classes, and I am learning from them, but I still have my private complaints that I have to take such classes."
Clementia laughed. "Ah, the Legionary's right to complain?"
"Something like that," I admitted before having more broth.
I felt my mother's curiosity as we both ate. After a couple minutes I decided to explain myself.
"It's the sinking realization that learning how to navigate the social minefields that come from dealing with spoiled teenage girls may very well aide me when dealing with noble intrigue or Legion and Fleet officers."
"I can only speak for the social dynamics of the ecclesiastical world, but you're not wrong."
I frowned. "Sometimes I feel like everyone is a crazy demon, or at least immature, and that everyone is really my age, they just look like adults. That I'm older than I... look." Wincing at my near slipup, I thought of Lady HoofBridge and her views on throwing my Flight at our largest rival as a bit of sabre-rattling.
"I'll confess, daughter, most adults are faking it."
I sighed. "That conclusion has become inescapable."
"You have always been a very sensible and sober young girl," my Mother agreed. She left unstated that that was part of why I was never adopted when I was at the orphanage. Sometimes I wondered what my life would be like if I was adopted by more... conventional parents. If I had been raised by women of more normal jobs and status. I presume I would have been happy in some small town, maybe I'd work as a scrivener or some sort of clerk, but I still would have had my affinity for Zephyr.
And I would have come under pressure to sign up, to do my part. I have been in a situation similar to Visha. I continued to ponder as I ate. Unless I once again found patronage, I would not have been in a cadet program, so I would have signed onto BlackSkyvian service earlier, and I would have had far less time to train.
I could feel my mother's amusement. She rarely pestered me when I was pondering and was happy to enjoy companionable silence. It was a shame I had to wear this headdress, part of me wanted her to brush my hair. But she had a meal to eat too.
The meal ended and I felt some regret, in part because I had to put my half-veil back on but mostly because I had to say goodbye to mother Clementia for the rest of the day.
"We will be having dinner," she promised, giving me a hug after I paid for the lunch.
I nodded.
"You can tag along if you want. It's rather dry fiscal allocations of tithes and endowments, but," she gestured to how I was dressed, "you are qualified to sit in."
My tail flicked. It was a tempting offer. Over the last two years I had learned more about how charitable donations worked under Silvan law and the tax codes that the nobility operated under. Due to our privileged status, our fiscal records were far less private than those of commoners. I could see the arguments in favor of this arrangement. Our tax code was simple in a way that warmed my heart, but it could be circumvented. I could also see it as a means for the Imperatrix to keep a check on powerful factions while also being aware of their resources and assets.
"Thank you for the offer." I bowed my horns. "Normally, I would accept but I have an appointment this afternoon with my Logistics instructor on a project that she thinks can be presented for formal review."
She returned the bow, then with a smile pulled me into another hug. "I'll take notes and we can go over them at dinner."
I smiled and with some reluctance we separated. She went on her way to the cathedral and I started walking down. There was a funicular station opposite that grand hotel.
++++++++++
I strode down the stone stairs with purpose, only somewhat self-conscious about how I was dressed. Normally, I wore my Legion uniform when out in the city, so it was interesting to see the contrast in how I was treated.
Admittedly, in both cases I was given a respectful diffidence. However, a novitiate Sister of the Order of our Hallowed Lady was given more of the respect of the institution. Whereas, on the other wing, the awards, specialization, and rank of my Legionary uniform, or the hair pins I could wear when out of uniform, had people more agog at my personal achievements. Even moreso when they realized how young I was to be wearing those badges of rank and accomplishment.
A young teenage novitiate Sister was normal. A decorated teenage Volantes Ace and Flight Leader was something else.
I waited for the traffic to thin at the crosswalk. The funicular station was just across the street next to the small glen of a park. Before I could cross, a panicked bellhop ran up to me, her wings akimbo and her tail flailing.
With honey-blonde hair that was pinned up in her pillbox cap, she was dressed as if she were some grand army marshal with more gold braid than a Luxon dress uniform and more frogging than a Trosic admiral. The green uniform managed to be ostentatious and servile.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm so sorry, Sister," the bellhop bowed her head, gasping. Held in her hands was a silver-edged calling card. She paused to gather herself and inhaled. "Are you Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust?" she asked in the tumbling rush of someone who only recently was told something she had to memorize.
"I am. What's this about?'
"I'm sorry!" she repeated with another bow. "The Diyu Continental has been honored to host embassies from both Houses Crocelli and House Vualia while they discuss matters of import."
I glanced at the hotel's grandiose frontage, all that heroic statuary made mundane by their placement overlooking a loading and unloading zone full of various vehicles. "Yes, I noticed the banners."
While not exactly neighbors, both minor Houses were south of House BlackSky across the Gaudia Sea: Crocelli on the western side of Diyu, Vualia across from the eastern end of the continent.
More than the fluttering banners hanging in front of the lobby, there were plenty of people sitting and talking in the little groups, as I had noticed earlier. Not to mention the abundance of security personnel from all three Houses in attendance, plus the private forces of the Continental. One woman with orange hair and sober business-wear caught my eye. She was with a cluster of people out having a smoke.
"One of the attendees begs the indulgence of a moment of your time," the bellhop held out the card by the far corners to make sure we did not inadvertently touch when I took it.
I opened the card and it took effort to not set it aflame, let alone to not shred it with my claws. "Ah..." I read it again and looked up at the banners. They were still just the emerald green over black of House Crocelli and the seafoam and sapphire of House Vualia.
I did not see the banner for House Ziox: a chevron of silver wings over a wheat-gold disk on a red and blue background. I did not want to create a scene; I was already attracting some attention.
My tail straightened. "Please give Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor my regards, but alas I will not be able to meet with her today." I had no interest in meeting the sister of the War Mistress who had tried to abduct and brainwash me.
"Are you sure about that, Countess?" an orange-haired woman in a sober black jacket, bodice, and grey skirt asked, suddenly at my side. She had magenta skin, neat bangs and a ponytail. Behind her gold-framed glasses her eyes twinkled. At least the librarian had done the courtesy of not actively puffing on her slim cigar as she approached.
"Librarian Evadne," I bowed my horns and then waved the calling card. "Are you sure about this?"
Her tail curling, the bellhop looked between us. "If there's nothing else?" She wanted out of this situation - quite the sensible girl.
"Oh yes, the Countess will deal with the matter personally," Evadne assured.
The hotel staffer took her chance and scurried back to the protection of the hotel.
"I do hope you'll do me this favor," the Librarian brightly said.
I frowned at her. "Unless my memory of Ortov is faulty, wouldn't the favor go the other way?"
Her smile grew. "Don't you want more favors from the Librarius?"
I stared.
"Ah, wise for one so young." She studied her cigar and pouted; the end had gone out. "I can't force you to talk with Samoth."
"Why is she even here? How did she get into the country?"
"House Vualia has hired her as a consultant to evaluate their Ritual Plate Corps. She's part of their delegation at this summit as a military attaché. And as long as she stays on the grounds and comports herself, Kapten Rodswor is entitled to the protections of being part of the Vualian embassy." Evadne shrugged.
"Oh, House Crocelli must love that." My wings twitched as I pinched the bridge of my nose. The woman who trained Diluvian separatist Pilots would be sitting across the negotiating table from House Crocelli.
"Yes, I dare say bringing her was a way to thumb their nose at them," Evadne agreed.
"Haven't she and her mercenary band fought Crocelli's forces directly?" I added. "They've certainly fought ours."
"Yes, Queen Vualia isn't dueling with blunted swords in these negotiations. She's needling both Crocelli and us as the hosting House. There is some elegance as Rodswor does have an expertise and with her status as a sell-sword her actions cannot be, officially, blamed on Ziox." Evadne shrugged elegantly. "As far as we know, she has not done anything aggressive at all while in service to Vualia."
"And you want to bring me into a spat between Minor Houses separated by the Gaudia Sea?" I asked, looking for some way to get out of this diplomatic intrigue.
Laughing, Evadne snapped her fingers and relit her cigar. "Oh no, I don't want you to talk to the younger Rodswor to smooth over some mere trade deal. I want you to figure out why Samoth wants to talk to you."
Frowning, I glanced at the hotel. I did not want to get further into this mess. The Rodswor family had been a problem for me for years. "This is a diplomatic event."
"And you're being invited." The librarian looked me over. "And I suppose your garment helps make you look pious and non-threatening, Sister."
I glared.
"Do you have a sidearm under that dress?"
Confusion grew as I blinked up at her. I did have a few firearms, mostly what I had to purchase as a BlackSkyvian Imperial Legionary. Despite being a Legion Flier we were expected to be proficient in small arms. My Duchess also had a fair number of hunting pieces not to mention the equipment of her non Ritual Plate mercenaries. There was also my maid Reinhild's collection.
I rarely carried a sidearm, and the last time I had to use my Mark 36 battle rifle was a particularly bad night in FOB EmeraldInferno almost a year ago when Diluvian raiders almost snuck through the wire and into the Forward Base.
"Do you want one?" she lightly asked in that amused inquisitiveness that seemed a hallmark of her profession.
"What about security?"
"What about it?" she happily retorted, tail swishing.
"Personally, I'd rather have time to change."
"You look good." The Librarian smiled. "I would appreciate your help in this, but if you have an appointment, please, don't let me detain you."
I look at the sparkling eyes behind those slim glasses. My tail went limp as I sighed. "Fine, I'll do my part."
Grinning, Evadne clapped her hands, turned on her heel, and started walking back to the hotel. I trudged after her.
The interior lobby of the hotel was cool and I was breezed past various guards, security, and overly ornamented servants. Somewhere in the process I lost the Librarian and found myself alone by the reception desk holding the silver-edged card.
There was a gentle gust and the air got a bit more comfortable. Before I could call to the receptionist, the nervous honey-blonde bellhop intercepted me. "Countess? If you'll follow me."
Going through a few more layers of security surrounding the chatting diplomats, I was thankful that I wore the Preserver Order award. A couple checkpoints actually asked to verify my identification and my invitation. It was reassuring that someone could not just dress up like a trainee nun and sneak in. The bellhop led back out to a rear portico.
There were a few people sitting at the tables. More than a few eyes fell upon me, but my attention was at the willowy woman sitting at a table shaded by a poplar tree. I had only seen photos of her from CSR and other intelligence briefings, but it was her.
With confident air, I strode over. She already had a cup on a saucer.
Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor was a bit duskier than her sister with a light bronze coloration. She had the same hard amber eyes and close-cropped black hair. She looked younger than her late sister, even a bit more youthful than the dossier CSR had on her. Her frosty smile was just slightly warmer than the cold elegance Zaphania had born.
That is until I surprised, killed, and fed upon the War Mistress.
"Countess, or do you prefer Primus Centurion? Please, sit. I don't want to offend, I know how precious noble titles and war-like reputations are to you BlackSkyvians," Samoth flashed her fangs. Old hatred, worn comfortable by time and use, radiated from her. The pilot wore a dark purple jacket with matching slacks and a white shirt. A silver feather, a symbol of House Ziox, was on one lapel with a gold quiver full of arrows denoting her command of a mercenary company on the other. Lavender horns curled out of her brow and her wings were folded back as her tail was curled onto her lap.
I sat and stared at her.
"Taller than I expected, but it has been two years." She tilted her head and sipped some tea. "I sent you a calling card. No doubt it's already at that up-slope mansion of your mother's. She did reward you handsomely for what you did."
"The War Mistress attacked me."
Samoth gave that chill smile. "Yes. I had hoped to maybe talk to you later, but then," she gestured up to the block at a higher elevation where the cathedral and that cafe were, "but then, I saw you. And you were all dressed up for church. Maybe your Lady DarkStar wanted us to meet?"
"If she did, wouldn't we both be in the skies in our armor and not at a diplomatic summit?" I snapped back.
She laughed. "Oh, you almost sound like you believe that. Come Countess, do you actually fool people with this lady warrior thing?"
"Do you? With your righteous vengeance?"
"Oh Countess, you know that the best lies have a kernel of truth to prop them up." She gave a laugh made all the more disturbing for the genuine mirth. "I know you've been making inquiries, using your Mother's connections, maybe some of your personal networks. Good little nobles who want an honorable duel wouldn't do such things."
I folded my hands on the table. "What is it that you want?"
She sipped her tea. "It's not enough that we should meet face to face at least once before we settle this tawdry feud?"
"The failings of your family have little to do with me. Any other Legion Flier would have caused you the same trouble."
There was that laugh again. "Oh, if we're playing up to arrogant stereotypes then perhaps I should bring up my ancestors, or maybe I should have worn a headdress too."
"What do you want?" I repeated.
"I heard you had a spot of trouble with House Elena recently." The woman squared her teacup on the saucer and pushed it to one side.
"I wouldn't say that." House Ziox was ambivalent at best towards House Elena. Mostly it was because the smaller great House had enough wars and rivals and could ill afford to have yet another enemy. House Elena's feelings were more complicated as they were staunch allies of House Luxon, one of Ziox's traditional foes.
"No, you wouldn't," Samoths' tail flicked out of her lap. "Countess, yes for this, it's Countess, I'm a mercenary."
I gave a small smile. Samoth was only a mercenary because that gave House Ziox plausible deniability.
"Don't you get haughty to me, your own mother, the Duchess, is a sell-sword," Samoth spat. "That's why I'm even talking with you." She took out a bronze tuning fork. It had the slightly more angular engravings of Zioxan enchantments, but I recognize the device. Especially, after she struck it on the side of the table. The vibrations were prickly to my horns.
I blinked at the little privacy generator. My Duchess often used such devices... during similar meetings.. "I'm sorry, perhaps you could clarify?"
Amber eyes smoldered at me as she leaned back. "I know you don't trust me, and have no idea how much it galls me to come to you, of all people on Diyu." She flexed her hands and the air at her back became blustery. "But.... I am a businesswoman, thanks to you, Countess. And I have something to sell, something your mother, or maybe some of your less savory friends may be very interested in."
I squared my shoulders. So this was Great House politics. "What do you have in mind, Kapten Rodswor?"
End Chapter 19
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
Sorry about the back to back cliffhangers (and 19 being a bit short), but chapter 20 is well underway and shouldn't take too long to finish. And I got some new art to post.
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RogueInquisitor
Unexpected!
I'm somewhat surprised Tauria didn't use the meeting with her logistics instructor when Evadne said "but if you have an appointment, please, don't let me detain you." On the other wing, Ssmoth looks like she may be a far more interesting character than she was first presented as.
- Location
- USA
Tauria did worry that that excuse wouldn't pass muster.
And thanks! I wanted to show that Samoth had more going for her, especially as she had the sense to try and survive. Few enemy pilots are able to fly away from a confrontation with the Countess.
There's the Company-Kapetan and Pukovnik Armin. But I wouldn't worry about Tauria's new Elenese friend.
Image: Tauria and her fave Cadets & Tauria and Clementia
- Location
- USA
So a bit of a status update.
Chapter 20 stands at just over 10k words so far. I hope to have it finished before the year is out.
Also I have a few art pieces that I plan to put up as a bit of a Feast of DarkStar reward. (Including a couple rather thematic ones)
But to keep this post from being just a tease of upcoming things, I'll share a couple pieces. Both of these are from the excellent Scitty Kitty.
Here we see Tauria and mother Clementia having a bit of a moment, and well Tauria is trying her best.
And here is Tauria with her two favorite cadets. Which also serves as a good reference for Cadets Lavish RoseTalon and Pulivia VibrantFang.
Chapter 20 stands at just over 10k words so far. I hope to have it finished before the year is out.
Also I have a few art pieces that I plan to put up as a bit of a Feast of DarkStar reward. (Including a couple rather thematic ones)
But to keep this post from being just a tease of upcoming things, I'll share a couple pieces. Both of these are from the excellent Scitty Kitty.
Here we see Tauria and mother Clementia having a bit of a moment, and well Tauria is trying her best.
And here is Tauria with her two favorite cadets. Which also serves as a good reference for Cadets Lavish RoseTalon and Pulivia VibrantFang.
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- Location
- USA
Great chapter.
Would love to see more portrait artwork of MC and Co.
Thanks! And yeah there is some more art that I'll post in a couple days!
Images: One year Anniversary Holiday Collection
- Location
- USA
For Little Demon it's been one heck of a year. And yes, "Victory" was first publicly posted on 12/25/2021 with mirror postings on other forums several days later. I would like to thank everyone, from editors, prereaders, other Tanya writers, commenters, artists. Everyone who has helped me refine this... ambitious story. Everyone who liked, shared, reviewed, or even simply read it. There are far, far too many people for me to name individually.
I'm thankful to all of you for putting in the time and I hope you enjoyed it. With this story, I've found new communities, new friends, and had a part in rekindling some concepts and ideas that have been a long time coming, I'm really happy with how this crazy, original setting has still managed to pull people in, and that fans of Youjo Senki seem to have enjoyed my treatment of Tanya as a character. I have been taken away by the quality, kindness, and sheer effort in commentary that you have all brought to this story. Little Demon would not be the story it is if not for your help, and that of my editors.
I wish all of you a Merry Christmas, Yule, Hanukah, or whatever winter holiday that is applicable.
And now... a bit of a status report.
Chapter 20 is on its last scene and stands at 12k words. I hope to have the draft finished before New Years and we'll see how long it takes to proof.
The next part of the Battle of Chicago Side-story " The Second Wave: Pandemonium" is about halfway done. It may be a bit shorter, but the plan is to give a Hoof-slogger's view of events, especially when a certain set of RP is called in for air support.
Peer Rivals Part 2 is also being worked on and will show more of a one Hajime Tanya learning more of her new "friends" and what she can get out of them.
And with that done.... onto the real core of this post: the art.
First we start with an alternate of a piece I posted a few days ago. By ScittyKitty we have Tauria and two of her cadets but instead of being angry she's.... singing. This makes it less threatening.... right?
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Next we have a work by PlayerError404 showing Tauria in a fancy dress and a bit perturbed by it all. But don't worry it'll get better for her.
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And from Scarlet Fox we've got a few examples of them playing around with AI to make some art of Tauira. Standard limitations and cautions apply, but the overall theme and style is amusing and fan efforts are always appreciated.
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Next from LexiKimble is the latest in showing some very serious BlackSkyvian military hardware. Here we see a Sarpedona Pilot (left) and a Harmonia Pilot (Right) taking a moment to catch-up after a long mission.
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We then go to a fun magic card that WrandmWaffles came up with. He's made quite a few for other Tanya crosses.
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Once again, thank you all so much for everything, and have a Happy Holiday.
And onto chapter 20 and from there the Off-World Colonies arc.
I'm thankful to all of you for putting in the time and I hope you enjoyed it. With this story, I've found new communities, new friends, and had a part in rekindling some concepts and ideas that have been a long time coming, I'm really happy with how this crazy, original setting has still managed to pull people in, and that fans of Youjo Senki seem to have enjoyed my treatment of Tanya as a character. I have been taken away by the quality, kindness, and sheer effort in commentary that you have all brought to this story. Little Demon would not be the story it is if not for your help, and that of my editors.
I wish all of you a Merry Christmas, Yule, Hanukah, or whatever winter holiday that is applicable.
And now... a bit of a status report.
Chapter 20 is on its last scene and stands at 12k words. I hope to have the draft finished before New Years and we'll see how long it takes to proof.
The next part of the Battle of Chicago Side-story " The Second Wave: Pandemonium" is about halfway done. It may be a bit shorter, but the plan is to give a Hoof-slogger's view of events, especially when a certain set of RP is called in for air support.
Peer Rivals Part 2 is also being worked on and will show more of a one Hajime Tanya learning more of her new "friends" and what she can get out of them.
And with that done.... onto the real core of this post: the art.
First we start with an alternate of a piece I posted a few days ago. By ScittyKitty we have Tauria and two of her cadets but instead of being angry she's.... singing. This makes it less threatening.... right?
Fullsize
Next we have a work by PlayerError404 showing Tauria in a fancy dress and a bit perturbed by it all. But don't worry it'll get better for her.
Fullsize
And from Scarlet Fox we've got a few examples of them playing around with AI to make some art of Tauira. Standard limitations and cautions apply, but the overall theme and style is amusing and fan efforts are always appreciated.
Fullsize
Next from LexiKimble is the latest in showing some very serious BlackSkyvian military hardware. Here we see a Sarpedona Pilot (left) and a Harmonia Pilot (Right) taking a moment to catch-up after a long mission.
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We then go to a fun magic card that WrandmWaffles came up with. He's made quite a few for other Tanya crosses.
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And finally we end with another PlayerError404 piece. This one showing a future event that has been implied to happen (or at least can be deduced given who the main character is of the released stories to Little Demon) . Yes, this is Tauria and her mother meeting DarkStar. They seem happy with it, even if the redhead is a bit unsure of this whole religion that grew around her memory.
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Once again, thank you all so much for everything, and have a Happy Holiday.
And onto chapter 20 and from there the Off-World Colonies arc.
- Location
- USA
Thanks! And there is a piece with her being older the second image in this link (the sequence)
It starts with this
It shows what she'll look like a few years past the current chapter (so around the side story time. She's still short bit yeah has quite the style to her.
Chapter 20: War by Other Means
- Location
- USA
The War Chronicles of a Little Demon
Set in the Diyu Demons verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 20: War by Other Means
Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor's amber eyes burned with hate and mirth. I could understand why she loathed me. Yes, her older sister was a monster who had planned to kidnap, break, brainwash, and twist me into her daughter. But to Samoth, all of that was irrelevant; War Mistress Zaphania Rodswor had been her sister, and I had killed her.
And I not only had I killed Zaphania, but I had done so in a way that left very little of the War Mistress to repatriate back to House Ziox. Yes, I could understand Samoth's emotions, but I had little patience for them. I was here because Samoth had asked me to meet with her. For both our sakes, I hoped she had asked me here for an actual reason instead of just a way to further sharpen her grudge.
"What do you have?" I asked, repeating my question. We were in the back portico of the Diyu Continental. The hotel was serving as the venue for negotiations between the minor Houses of Crocelli and Vualia. She was smartly dressed in charcoal grey and black where I, due to the unfortunate timing of Samoth's invitation, was still wearing my formal habit of a novitiate Sister of Our Hallowed Lady, donned for a prior engagement.
Samoth glanced back at the hotel and sighed. Her own Zephyr refreshed the little bronze tuning fork in its carved stand and the buzzing privacy field renewed. "It's something I learned before I found my latest client. It is, in fact, why myself, my pilots, and our support staff went to House Vualia."
"And now you're their military attaché."
She glared. "I'm only here because Queen Vualia wants to needle both your House for strong-arming her into these negotiations and House Crocelli by seating one of their enemies across the table from them."
"You didn't have to work for House Vualia," I shrugged.
Her tail flicked. "I was getting to that, Countess." It was only a momentary slip in her composure, but her ire, polished smooth, was blatant. She had grown far too comfortable wearing her emotions on her sleeve as a mercenary in the field. Her diplomatic skills had clearly suffered as a result..
I shifted in my seat, suddenly, self-conscious of my wildly inappropriate habit. Sitting across from an enemy dressed as a novitiate sister was so awkward; worse the rougher fabric of the garment of my order kept distracting me from Samoth. At least, I told myself, I was not wearing some poofy sequined and ruffled gown to palaver with the enemy. That would have been a true embarrassment.
"Why are you even offering this information you've gleaned?" I asked, eager to swat the conversational ball back into her court. "As far as I understand it, most mercenaries wait until they get paid before turning their coats."
Credit to Samoth, she wasn't quite that easily drawn. Despite me giving her an amble opening for a retort, given my mother's vocation, perhaps it was too obvious. "Who else stands up to House Elena?"
"House Irkella," I replied, "one of your staunchest allies, if memory serves."
She smiled. "Allies." She tasted the air. "You don't really understand the triumvirate of Ziox, Trosier, and Irkella do you?"
"Three Great Houses of moderate power banding together to offset the hegemonic blocks formed by the larger Great houses," I stated.
"Ah, that noble officer education," Samoth replied with unlovely relish.
"The War College really suits you, Countess."
"Fine," I folded my hands before me. If this was an exam then I would give her a proper answer, "Irkella has lived in fear of Zioxan raiders for many years. If not for the fact that most of border between your two Houses coincides with the highest mountain range in Diyu, they would be the victims of your House's aggression, instead of Luxon or Andromache.
"After the last Great House War, Luxon's star was ascendant. They were no longer the 'Sick Woman of Diyu'; they had gone from being on opposing sides with Elena in that war to a budding alliance with them."
"My older sister fought in that war, you know," Samoth noted bitterly, "She told me stories when I was growing up. She did... much to help Mother raise us."
"My condolences," I stated, the words flat and meaningless in my mouth. Try as I might, which I hadn't, I still couldn't find it in me to care that Zaphania was dead. If anything, I cared more that Samoth had to be raised by the her older sister, but even that was more academic abstraction.
"Oh, how little you know," Samoth chided as she sipped her tea.
An alliance between the largest and third-largest powers was natural. It's not like Elena had any interest in fighting Luxon even then. And then they could gang up to stop BlackSky. Which made Luxon stronger, and Andromachin diplomacy was working on all three of the biggest Great Houses.
"A strong Luxon and a protected Andromache put Irkella in quite the bind."
Samoth smiled. "It did?"
I sighed. "Is this an evaluation? I know how these tricks go."
"Yes, I've heard the rumors about your cadet squadron," Samoth said dismissively, "It's not my people's way of breaking privileged brats into something useful, but... well, if it works for you, then by all means, keep it up."
"Yes," I agreed, ignoring the barb, "I think we will. I have, after all, seen your Second Assault Infiltration Wing's alumni."
Samoth glowered.
"Your failure to secure a command slot in that Wing wasn't the only reason you went mercenary, Kapten Rodswor," I calmly stated, "So kindly cease the farce. But back to the history lesson. Yes, Irkella had a choice of making concessions to House Ziox then or being forced to make even larger concessions later. They were already on good enough terms with Trosier so joining into an alliance was their best option."
"So cold, so clinical, so BlackSkyvian," Samoth teased.
"And you flip between the vendetta-obsessed raider and the cynical, realpolitik sell-sword," I noted, running my finger along the lip of the empty cup sitting in front of me. "Does neither mask suit you? How unfortunate."
Her laugh almost felt genuine. "And now we go back to Elena." She idly adjusted her cup. "I have information. Information that is already being given to House Irkella, but... let us be honest. Who is more likely to use it?"
"That depends on what you have," I pointed out, reserving judgment. "Why me?"
Her eyes glinted. "Because, Countess, this is what your family does. Or did you forget what your mother had arranged to acquire two years back, south of Narvos?"
"A Zioxan officer's notes on the Trosic Armada," I said, filling in the blank with an answer we both already knew. "Supposedly a fairly detailed collection, taken while the officer in question observed several war-games and joint training missions."
"Ah, so you never got to read them?" Samoth shook her head. "You people and your secrets." Her tail flicked back into her lap. "Well, what if I were to tell you that Elena was making overtures to House Trosier? They are trade partners; they could be more."
I leaned back. "That would be very interesting to House Alecto."
Samoth sighed. "Yes, Countess. I'll be sure to do the obvious and exchange information with them as well. Please pretend you're the genius all the cloying cinema shorts make you out to be."
That was an easy ask; less dancing around would only bring this running sore of a conversation to a quicker end. "You have information from a Trosic officer about Elenese military capability?"
"There," Samoth smiled, pleased with herself, "was that so hard?"
"You could have just asked to talk to a BlackSkyvian agent directly." The observation was matter-of-fact, for all that the personal element here was obvious.
Samoth stared at me from across the table, something almost like confusion in her eyes for a quick moment. "You are a BlackSkyvian agent," she said, speaking slowly as if wary for some conversational tripwire. "You are a Primus Centurion and a noble who earned her fief by blood. Such things don't count in Ziox, but I know how the game is played here. Your family is exactly the type of go-between for such negotiations. And do I even have to point out how you're dressed? Or the earrings you bear? Quite the statement of the morals of one of your House's official cults."
My tail stilled. She was not... wrong about my Duchess. She was a reserve officer in the Legions. She also had her own mercenary company that had done more than a few questionable jobs, but despite that still had very good standing among the Guilds.
That made it more of a mockery that I was dressed as a novitiate nun. I really should have changed before attending a meeting with a foreign officer, but frankly, that was Samoth's problem. I had just been at an event at the Cathedral with my mother, Clementia. This whole meeting was an unexpected and unwelcome diversion, and I had almost literally been grabbed off the street by her messenger and by Librarian Evadne. Still, I had my duties and would discharge them to the height of my abilities. "Do you need a name?" I asked, "or perhaps a letter of introduction?"
Those amber eyes fixed upon me. "That is the minimum you could offer, yes. You could choose to throw away any leverage on your part, and any considerations your mother Duchess SilverFlight might earn. Do you really hate me so enough to squander such a potential coup as personally securing a new intelligence source?"
"I don't hate you," I replied, speaking with complete honesty. "I hated your sister. I loathed her for what she did to people I cared about, the lives she ruined, the things she forced me to do. And despite all the hassle, praise, and headache it brought me, I don't regret killing her." Behind my gauzy veil, I gave a little smile. "But you? You're just another enemy Pilot."
Samoth's wings twitched.
"No, you're not merely another Pilot," I said, smiling at my enemy. "You did survive your encounter with the 5th Squadron of the 156th Infantry Legion's Beta Wing over the Crocelli jungles. Not many can make that claim. Indeed, not many of your Pilots can make that claim. How many squadrons did you lose? I congratulate you for your skills as a survivor, they must be considerable."
She folded her hands in her lap, but I could see the tips of her claws extending just a bit before she regained her control.
"Speaking of House Elena," I continued, pitching my tone towards affected idleness, "do you know Pukovnik Emilia Armin? She commands one of their Vanguard Strike units. She managed to face me in the skies without losing a single pilot. Imagine that!"
Samoth twitched again.
"I have heard of her," she admitted. "Most Houses do not have such... expansive Ritual Plate formations. With them, it is easy to keep up to date on officers of note. On some level, that is why your House makes a public spectacle of certain fliers." Samoth's wings twitched and she briefly made a bitter expression. "But in your case, your reputation is not entirely unearned. And I do mean your actual reputation, not the ones perpetuated in theater, broadsheets, and cinema. Your jungle exploits alone show a marked divergence between reality and glamour."
I almost smiled at her. We had both suffered in the sweltering green hell that was House Crocelli's interior. "And thank you for not using that nickname."
"Ah, the Jungle Fox," Samoth laughed. "I can see how you could get such a moniker, given the poor bedraggled vulpine creatures." She tapped the fork again. "But no one actually called you that when you were stationed there?"
"That's correct."
Samoth gave a weary sigh as she gestured to the golden Zioxan pin that denoted her ownership of a mercenary company. "I'll admit that it would be a nice feather in my headdress if I could have killed you over there. 'Little sister makes good on vengeance. With the right melody that could have sold well back home in Troya."
"And unlike your sister," I added. "if you had managed to take me over Crocelli, it would have been while I was armed and armored. A far more glorious affair than trying to ambush a child cadet in an unarmed suit."
"There's no glory in war, period," the Kapten snorted. "Though taking you... and making you into one of us... Just think of the things you could have done in our name."
"I'd rather not," I replied, somehow managing not to shiver. My mother Duchess would have been quite upset if I had been taken, and she had the resources and connections to make her displeasure known. There was also the little fact that such a capture was a gross violation of the two-party agreements almost all of the Great Houses had with each other over the treatment of prisoners of war.
"No use pondering what-ifs," Samoth continued briskly, "And I can't say that I fully agree with my late sister's course of actions, although, I can easily understand the temptation that entered her mind. One temptation among many, I suppose."
"The one that lead to her undoing," I pointed out. As far as threats went, or perhaps warnings, it was decidedly unsubtle.
"We are creatures of temptation. What counts is how we manage those urges." Samoth waved dismissively, before leaning forwards, slightly, clasping her hands on the table. "Now, Countess, what would information on the capabilities of the only one of your House's many rivals that is larger and more powerful than your wretched House be worth?"
"That all depends on the quality and quantity of your information," I replied uncommitally. "For detailed and actionable intelligence, well..."
Her amber eyes glinted. I had not refused her. I had not passed her off to someone else. It was time to haggle.
"First confession: I offer little data on the Volos," Samoth began, hopefully revealing her least valuable card first. "You must understand that your recent adventure was the first large-scale deployment of that platform, at least one that other Houses were able to scry on." A mix of jealousy and approval crossed her face. "Second, a lot of the data is more on their fixed wing systems: Yaryla recon birds, Kupala bombers, Semik heavy transports, and the like."
"I won't turn my nose up," I assured her, entirely willing to buy those goods. I might have preferred data on Ritual Plate, but that was my personal desire, and in this I was acting in my House's interest. "That said, if your source has naval and ground asset intel, I would be happy to see associates are willing to trade for it."
Her smile was all fangs. "Third, there has been some subtle, but key investment made in their RP and fixed-wing maintenance and robustness, efforts to design parts and spares last longer and the like. It's not enough to give their flight armor parity with your designs of course, but could pay dividends in the next several years. Alas, much of that information is solely from inference, based on improvements the Trosic observers noted relative to previous Elenese demonstrations."
"And doubtless that information has already winged its way home to your Dictatrix," I noted. Most Zioxan Ritual Plate work had originated from Trosic designs and joint-House projects, which, while robust, were rarely the most efficient.
Samoth gave me a patient, meaningful look.
"I'll need an initial proof before I commit to any payment plans," I said, unswayed by the unspoken message. "Payment upon delivery, Kapten, not before."
"Darn, I'd hoped I could cozen a Harmonia off you on the strength of a promised dossier alone. Even an older mark would be useful." Samoth's tone was deadpan but her amber eyes glinted with amusement.
I stared at her, not deigning to validate her foolishness with a reply. I was here for business, not for a clown show.
"Fine, fine. No need to get stroppy. I'm not optimistic enough to think I'd get anything from MuArc Amalgamated." Samoth reached into her coat, pulled out a grey envelope, and tossed it onto the table. "But, here. Proof of my intentions for the skeptical BlackSkyvian."
I looked down at the envelope for a moment. It was a normal letter parcel, albeit a bit on the thicker side than typical. Using my thumbclaw, I cut the end off the envelope and shook the contents out. Those contents consisted of a pile of documents, and on a cursory glance I could see an outline, a handful of essays, some photographs, tables, diagrams, and a number of abstracts.
"I'm amazed you managed to fit all of that into a single envelope," I mutters as I quickly shifted through eh first few pages. "That weight of paper would require additional postage, surely."
Samoth sipped her tea and made no comment as I read the observations of a Capitaine de Fragata in the Trosic Armada's Aviation Branch. Despite her rank's title, this Capitaine did not command a frigate. Instead, she was a Hangar Operations officer, roughly equivalent to a BlackSkyvian Trierarch, reporting directly to her carrier's commander.
The report documented improvements the Trosic officer had seen to the maintenance systems she oversaw part of her observing Elenese training missions and a tour of one of their carrier's hangars. Her notes were couched with various disclaimers about how this improvement or that change could have been part of some vast and elaborate fabrication, which indicated either paranoia or indecisiveness on the part of the report's author, but the changes noted weren't particularly drastic, nor was the resulting jump in operational tempo unreasonable. It read like a series of incremental improvements that were borne of experience. Ones that the officer wanted the Trosic Armada to implement. In particular, the report emphasized a series of updates in changing layouts of maintenance bays to allow for more efficient workflow and greater safety. The package even included diagrams of the old Elenese Navy maintenance bay layout, their new layout, and proposed revisions for the Trosic Armada.
I gave a little sigh, and paged through the other notes and read the abstracts. If everything Samoth offered was as good, or as she implied, better, than this sample, then she was offering up and entire trove of unglamorous but rather useful information.
Kapten Rodswor put her cup back on the saucer with a clink of china. "You seem displeased."
Picking up the pages I shuffled them back into a neat pile. "I am no expert, but this seems genuine enough. You'll have to allow me to hand this sample over to my associates for verification."
"That's what they're there for," Samoth replied, dismissively waving her hand. "Once they are verified, and we come to a deal, then we can do the tedious dance where I reveal where I stored the full reports and you tell me where my remuneration can be picked up."
I tilted my head. "You want your payment tendered by hand? Why not use an Irkellan bank? That House is allied with yours and neutral to us. My associates can deposit your payment with instructions that it be held in escrow, to be released to your designated agent once the files are handed over."
Samoth adjusted her teacup. "Very sensible. And both our families have the clout to get the Providence Bank of Nekhen to play along. But that covers only part of what I want."
"Oh?" I kept my tone very mild. What crazy thing would she demand from me? And would the BlackSkyivan intelligence services make demands of me.
"Don't get such a sour face," Samoth chided mockingly, shaking her head in answer to the implied question. "If I wanted to make this some personal vengeance kick, I'd lead with throwing a glove before you, snapping a dagger, or whatever tediousness was required. No, I'm looking for standard enchantments, tooling, fuel cells, and some ancillary components."
I chuckled. "Not finding good supplies in House Vualia? Or is your logistics connection to your homeland that tenuous?"
Samoth tried to shrug it off as she pulled out another envelope, but as I had noticed earlier, she was quiet ineffectual at hiding her emotions. I turned my attention away from my contact and focused on her second envelope. This one was much thinner than its predecessor and was gently placed in front of me.
Cutting the side, I quickly pulled out and scanned the inventory. "I can get you Alecton export equivalents for all of these," I murmured after a few seconds, folding my hands. "Anything past that is beyond my ability or desire to guarantee."
"Mercantile Aviation exports the power distribution systems I'm asking for to many Great Houses, including House Alecto," Samoth objected. "There is nothing on that list that could endanger your arcane edge."
I smiled. "That you think these components would fit in your remaining Tjardu, if I had to guess, is illustrative that they are known to you. It's the principle of the thing."
"Does sending it via a proxy really make it morally palatable?" Samoth muttered mutinously, though the undercurrent of resignation rang clearly in my ears.
"Of course not," I replied, humoring myself by treating her question as if it has been an actual, instead of rhetorical, inquiry. "Legally, it makes it far easier. House Alecto will sell to nearly anyone. And that way, I don't have to worry about exporting military components out of House BlackSky."
"How efficient of you." Her tone was desert-dry, to my great amusement. Lecturing a sellsword, who doubtless had a wealth of experience in negotiating questionably sourced parts and munitions about the diplomatic intricacies of military equipment transfers was in itself a veiled insult, a subtle way of talking down to her in a way I could easily play off as an earnest explanation. I suppose some of the Academy's tutelage had paid off. A petty dig, but her sister had tried to force herself upon me.
"And with these," I said, continuing to explain things to Samoth that I knew she already understood. "I'd recommend going with an Alecton bank for the funds transfer. That way your agents can just go to Meropis Island and pick up your money and the crates."
I affected a casual shrug as the ending note for my explanation, calculated to emphasize my youthful enthusiasm as a means of mitigating the offense. Samoth had not insulted me by asking for weapons emitters, scrying arrays, ward projectors, communications systems or anything truly sensitive. But she was asking for enough generic spares, conduits, tooling, and fuel cell systems to keep a multi squadron RP formation in operation for months in exchange for bread and butter information. I had not qualms about rubbing her nose in my position of superior power, especially after she'd spoiled the good mood I had enjoyed after meeting with my mother.
"All conveniently located right by House Vualia." Samoth made a contented noise. Surprisingly, her contented sounded sincere. I scaled my impression of her diplomatic acuity down a further few points; she had mistaken my insult for a helpful explanation. That, or she was deliberately winding me up. Or she was sounding me out for... something. "It is such a pleasure to see that you are a reasonable woman, Countess."
"We haven't even negotiated the currency part of it." That was the other half. She was already picking up parts from House Alecto; with an account newly flush with cash, she could purchase whatever else she needed, including any parts or supplies that BlackSky would be leery of handing over to an "independent contractor". However, the mercantile house did have a considerable markup on non-Alecton affiliated mercenary companies. Not to mention that modularity only went so far and a lot of the offensive, defensive, and sensory systems were often House specific. That just meant she had far less that needed to be shipped in from her homeland to keep her Pilots operational.
"I put my fee at the bottom, conveniently in your own Aurei. Perhaps I should have requested it in Alecton Guilders," Samoth said.
My eyes darted down to the bottom of the inventory, and I shook my head at the neatly written figure. "That's far too high. You could purchase an RP Flight for that."
"Not in Guilders, not with Alecton's rates," Samoth sipped her tea. "Besides, you know this information could easily pay for itself."
I tapped the table. "Half."
"You didn't balk at the parts I requested. And that lot's worth half of what I'm asking for."
"I demanded they be replaced with Alecton wares, and you agreed."
"Three quarters," Samoth's tone was hard. She had begun to reach the edges of her bargaining margin, apparently.
I flicked my tail. "The validity of your information needs to be verified. You're not getting anything until that happens. But judging the outline, you're massively over-valuing what you have on offer."
"What do you care, Countess? It's not like the money is coming out of your pocket." She flicked her privacy generation fork just a bit too ahrd, petulant annoyance writ across her face.
"I could say I want to avoid wasting my Imperatrix's funds," I mused, my tone dispassionate, "but we both know this is a test. You expected about equal amounts in currency and components. You've already agreed to your price-point in components, showing your hand. So, will you kindly cease screwing around and accept sixty percent of your original asking price converted from Aurei into Alecton Guilders."
Samoth's cold grin returned, not an ounce of joy or even feigned friendless present in her amber eyes. That her emotions were suddenly so closed off made me wonder how many of her previous outbursts and tells were feigned. "Fine, sixty percent of my initial bid. Can you blame me? I was curious about you." She leaned back, sipping at her tea a she glared over the rim of her cup.
"You'll be at the Continental for the rest of the diplomatic negotiations?" I asked, rising from my chair as I collected the papers and put them back in their envelopes. My dress had a couple hidden pockets that would have to suffice in lieu of a purse for the short trip back to the waiting Librarian.
"Leaving so soon?"
"As pleasant as it was to finally meet, face to face, I do have other appointments." If I hurried, and the debrief was not too long, I might not be late for the meeting with my Logistics instructor.
"Yes, I remember my days at Officer's school. Hopefully next time we meet it will continue to be... civilized, Primus Centurion Countess." Samoth flashed her teeth.
"Company-Kapten Rodswor." Standing, I gave a slight bow of my horns. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Samoth grabbed the tuning fork, terminating the privacy field.
I spun on my heel and stalked off. I had to reenter through the rear entrance of the hotel and then navigate back through the various security checks, but soon I was out on the front entrance.
An orange-haired woman with prim gold-framed glasses and a sober black suit sidled up to me. Her magenta features were open and amused. "I do apologize for the imposition," Palace Librarian Evande said, almost sincerely.
I handed the two envelopes over. "Samoth says she has information taken from a Trossic officer about House Elena's capabilities. It appears thorough, and the sample she provided seems genuine, but I'm not an expert," I said as we walked to the sidewalk and waited to cross.
Evande slipped the thicker envelope into her jacket pocket. "And the cost?" she asked once we were in the park across from the hotel.
As we moved toward the funicular station, I glanced at the remaining envelope. "I negotiated her down to sixty percent of the requested fee, transferred via an Alecton bank, and instead of BlackSkyvian manufacture all the requested components and tools are to be Alecton export models."
Balancing the envelope, the librarian made a murmur. "Both the goods and the bank transfer on Meropis Island?"
"If it turns out to be valid," I emphasized. If the Imperatrix's agents objected to the terms of the deal, or the quality of the intel then they could just claim they suspected it to be a forgery. The station was getting closer. I wondered where she would take me for the debriefing.
"Much depends on the veracity of the sample, but thank you for your assistance," Evande said, putting away the other envelope and retrieving a slim cigar from some inner pocket of her jaket. "We'll be in touch for the arrangements and follow up."
"I might need to get my mother's authorization to make those purchases and set up the escrow account," I admitted as we stopped at the steps that would lead up to the station.
Cutting the end of her cigar, Evande waved it off. "Duchess Tribune SilverFlight is familiar with the procedures. Consider it a bonding experience."
"And if Samoth rips us off?"
The Librarian lit her cigar. "Then your mother can teach you how to deal with that part of the business as well. Have a good afternoon, Countess."
And with that she turned and walked down a wooded path and vanished into the wooded glen. I stood for a moment in the late autumn air but when the Librarian did not return, I sighed and went up the stairs. At least I wouldn't be late for my meeting.
++++++++++
Tribune ShadowWhisper authoritatively clicked her pocket watch open. The lecture hall was deadly quiet as she peered down at the dial. "You have five minutes remaining."
I glanced up at the projection behind me that asked if there were any questions. My eyes returned to the pale Household Fleet officer. Her white uniform, short silvery hair, and ivory wings gave her an ethereal look: framed against the darkened and empty lecture hall behind her, she looked positively wraith-like, a solitary ghost in the front row.
"That's good," I said, dragging my mind back to the business at hand. "There's always some delay in the setup process, so a little breathing room is welcome. Besides what if one of the reviewers on my defense board shows up late?"
Organizing her notes, the Tribune's tail flicked as she stood. "I suppose that's fair. And it's better to be a bit under than to run over time, of course."
My own tail stilled as I tried to get a covert view of her comments. It was a silly impulse, as she was going to hand them over to me in a moment, but the urge to suss out any scrap of intelligence that could improve my performance was not to be denied This rehearsal was a great opportunity to get a fresh set of eyes on my thesis, and I needed her honest input as soon as possible so I could get to work of honing my presentation once more.
"And you covered all your topics satisfactorily enough," the older allowed giving me a stony look before a smile touched her face. "Well done, Primus Centurion. Please take that praise in context when we go over these," she said as she handed a sheaf of pages full of notes.
Despite her assurances, my tail drooped as I quickly scanned her comments, of which there were plenty. There were suggestions for just about every transparency slide I had made for my presentation, not to mention a corresponding amount of red ink on the accompanying manuscript of my thesis.
"Well, I haven't printed the review copies yet," I admitted as I went over the notes.
ShadowWhisper waved her hand. "It's nothing substantive to your conclusions, calculations, or observations. Most of the notes are in regards of formatting issues, presentation corrections, and ideas on how to make your graphs more concise. Most of them are good, but a few could be trimmed." She went to the binder next to the brass and duralumin projector that squatted on its steel cart and flipped to a slide near the middle part of the presentation. "Take this slide, where you project Elenese production numbers based on publicly available imagery."
"Yes, there are some limitations. House Elena obviously tries to keep their sensitive facilities away from civilian air travel lanes where anyone can look out a window. And even then a lot of things can be hidden inside hangars, especially small platforms like Ritual Plate. Though that's just the obvious parts. A factory might conceal their output but they'll have a harder time with their input.
"And then critical molds, dies, and other expensive components may be obfuscated but supplies of filament, etching compounds, basic tooling, power draw, maintenance parts, piping, wiring, all of that is a lot harder to completely conceal," I said getting back into the familiar flow. "Even watching parking lots and rail stations to see how many people are working late, extra shifts, and how many are staying in for lunch or even taking dinners..." Shaking my head I managed to stop before I got too far.
ShadowWhisper's smile was indulgent. "You explain it well, and you clearly know the information. And your methodology and calculations are fine. However," she gestured to the slide, "it's a bit busy. And there's far too many words. Most of your presentation is concise. Normally, it takes a Fleet officer several more grades before she realizes that she's not paid by the word. Maybe the Legionaries are less likely to suffer from logorrhea."
"Eloquence and literacy are of great value in the Imperial Legions, Ma'am," I stated.
"A reduced supply tends to do that," the Logistics officer laughed. "Still, I think that slide could use some clearing up. You explained the process elsewhere so you can pare the graphics down to the critical parts."
I gave a slow nod. I was rather proud of that flowchart and the supporting test explaining the methodology. Still needs must when demons, or succubae at least, drive...
"Don't pout," ShadowWhisper chided. "Your chart works just fine within the dissertation itself, it's just too much for he presentation."
"I do appreciate all the time you put into this," I stated as I went through her notes and the copy of the manuscript full of her corrections. It was not as bad as the first impression. Though every mistake did make me wince. "Better to find weakness and mistakes now," I admitted.
She waved it off. "There's nothing that would kill your defense here. But I think your thesis has value more than proving your own skills. This information on Elena's industrial and supply capabilities, and more importantly the way you acquired the data and came to these conclusions should be kept as a reference."
"It's nothing groundbreaking," I admitted. I was still dealing with the fallout of the "groundbreaking" intel breakthrough that had fallen into my lap a month ago. My mother had helped set up the transfer with various Alecton facilitators and Kapten Samoth Rodswor had surprisingly proven true to her word. Which was good for all involved, especially as her little mercenary company was now flush with funds and parts for the next quarter-year at least.
"No, it's not." Her flat reply did hurt a bit. "But no one is expecting that from you."
I tilted my head slightly as my tail flicked. Disbelief radiated off of me, but since I did not say anything nor did I even give a skeptical expression, I was not technically being insubordinate.
"Fair. You might be under such high expectations." ShadowWhisper gave a sympathetic look. "But there is nothing to be ashamed of grounded, evolutionary work. Most of the time it's far more practical and reliable anyway."
"I'm trying to get my cadets to learn that," I grumbled.
"Youth and inexperience," she amended, "bring about that folly."
I nodded. The Tribune was polite about it, but my age was still noteworthy. At least it was not as blatant as my previous life.
"I did hear their last training mission went well, especially after...."
"Despite the Elenese incursion, the cadet squadrons' training mission over the Adria Testing Range was more than adequate. They performed sufficiently in their first live-fire exercise." That none of them tried to sneak off and fly to my rescue was good. A gaggle of bloody-minded cadets would have utterly wrecked things.
"And their most recent exercise?"
"Last week was a simulated ground support mission."
"Ah, I trust you found the most... pastoral and provincial hoof-sloggers to direct their fire?" Her eyes glinted. She was Fleet so she fully understood the conflict that could arise when common infantry dared to speak up to those of higher station, or at least higher altitude.
I showed my teeth. "A few Legionaries fresh in from the colonies and some Auxilia. A Forest Person I know was in the area; he was willing to do me a favor."
ShadowWhisper shook her head in amusement. "Please tell me that your fops weren't so sensitive that a male voice coming over the comm gave them palpitations?"
"Only after he started yelling at them," I said, trying and failing to keep the note of cheer out of my voice. "Lares has quite the set of lungs."
ShadowWhisper shook her head. "It's good to see you caring for your girls."
I looked up from the corrections. "Someone needs to get them to shape up into real Legion Fliers before they get into a combat slot and get people killed."
The pale logistics officer smiled. "Word is after you're through with them normal Flight School will be a breeze."
"Then I'll have done my job." I bowed my horns and continued to study the notes. "Interesting, you want me to move up my talk about estimating production of Elenese scrying systems to before the portion about the size of their training programs for Ritualista."
"It seemed to have a better flow as you use the maintainer availability to support the production numbers," she said, shrugging her wings.
"That's fair," I admitted, making some notes of my own. I would not be surprised if a Librarian attended my thesis defense, both to see if there was anything novel in my conclusions and to make sure I was not using anything classified in an academic paper. While this report was not exactly a House secret, it was guaranteed to have a restricted distribution as it was.
"I wonder..." ShadowWhisper glanced at me. "Have you been thinking about your next assignment?"
My tail slowed. I would have preferred to spend another year or even two more semesters at the War College, but the needs of the House were what they are.
"I have my suspicions," I allowed with more hesitancy than I had expected in my voice. DarkStar's blood, I was more worried about being in charge of a mere squadron than I had been about attending Advanced Evasion School. I commanded the 203rd Mage Battalion and then Salamander Kampfgruppe. A dozen Legion Fliers should be nothing. But it was a start. My future loomed before me, and I knew where this path would lead.
"Should I congratulate you on a squadron command?" ShadowWhisper asked.
"Congratulate Tribune Quirinus first," I replied with a shrug trying to contain my emotions.
"Oh?" She replied, her tail quirking up. "Artemis finally got it?"
I was not sure "finally" was the right word. The Imperial Legions had only about a hundred Volantes Tribunes. Quirinus was now in a rather exclusive group of Demi-Wing and Wing commanders; admittedly, it was a club she entirely deserved to be in. ShadowWhisper was Fleet, and the Household Fleet did had more Ritual Plate Pilots, so maybe she considered it less of an honor. "She has been very busy, and still hasn't been assigned her unit yet."
"Good for her. I'll have to write her a note." She peered at me. "What's wrong?"
I paused and... decided to go with an excuse that was not exactly a lie. "Still thinking about the Advanced Evasion School I completed about two weeks ago."
"Ah." I could feel her sympathy.
"I passed," I assured her. "While grueling, it just required enduring everything the instructors threw at me."
ShadowWhisper raised an eyebrow.
"Fine, a few of the scenarios, including escaping from a Spatha fuselage they crashed into a massive outdoor pool and making it to the forest were... trying. And the counter interrogation module..." My tail stilled at that. For someone looking to get information via discomfort, duress, deception, and other euphemisms, being an empath was... quite the advantage. "I passed that as well."
"Oh? Some officers have trouble with the telepathy resistance training."
"I um... knew the instructor." Thankfully it was not Librarian Evadne. Working with her on Samoth's exchange was bad enough. Though that did mean I was in deeper with Mira Heartwood. As terrifying as being around a telepath was, at least the experience was in the service of building up mental resistance. Even with that reassuring thought in mind, the paranoid part of me remained very concerned. "Still, it all would have been a lot more difficult, if not for the tutoring Reinhild, my maid, had given me. I really need to give her a bonus for all that."
"Ah," ShadowWhisper smiled. "That's her name."
"What?"
"Oh nothing," she breezily assured. "So, you'll get a squadron. You must be excited at filling out your roster."
"It has passed my mind," I stated in full honesty. It was more of an idle abstract consideration, as I did not know who would be made available to me. "Tribune Quirinus should be able to help, if all goes to plan-"
ShadowWhisper gave a light chuckle at that. The Fleet and the Legions tried to organize and plan for contingencies. This was especially true for officers with my irritatingly exalted reputation. A reputation I had neither sought out nor tired to build, but had earned entirely through unforeseen consequences to unfortunately necessary actions.
"If all goes to plan," I continued, "I'll command the multi-role Squadron in her Demi-Wing. Hopefully she can help me find some experienced Polyxo Pilots."
"Oh, not planning on taking in some of your students?" ShadowWhisper asked with all seeming sincerity.
Tail still, I stared at her. "It... depends. They're not rated for Polyxos yet, but in theory... If they have the talent... It that would require accelerating their qualifications and having them test out of Flight School, though," I tried to state without sounding too evasive, or horrified at the idea.
"Oh, DarkStar forbid. I'm not being serious." The Tribune laughed.
"They do have potential," I admitted. "And I wish them well on their military careers."
"Well put." ShadowWhisper glanced at her pocket watch. "Although..."
"Yes?"
"I would never suggest filling out an entire squadron with green pilots, but there may be some political aspects you should take into consideration. Ones that may require considering your applicants with care."
I sighed. "You are not entirely wrong there."
"It's the risk of being in one of the more glamorous specialties," she said with sympathy.
"Logistics is vital, Ma'am. What you do does more to win battles than anything I do," I assured her.
"Flatterer." ShadowWhisper studied me. "No, you truly believe that."
"It's the truth."
She smiled. "Perhaps, but not many young Imperial Heroine Ace of Aces would say that. Ah, your wingwoman is here."
"Tribune. Primus Centurion," Visha greeted us, saluting by baring her neck as she entered the lecture hall.
"At ease," ShadowWhisper said, returning the salute.
Giving a respectful nod, Visha then went to my side and started helping organize my papers.
"I'm not too late?" I asked, my tail slowing.
"There's plenty of time," Visha assured me with a broad smile.
"Oh," I said, turning off the projector.
"Busy day?" ShadowWhisper asked.
"I have to meet up with VioletBlood for some tutoring," I admitted.
Her tail swished. "Well, have fun," she purred.
Opening my valise, I tried not to flush.
"And make sure they stay out of trouble, Victorious," the Tribune added.
"I'll do my best," Visha smiled as she helped put away the various slides, notes, and copies of my thesis, "but there's only so much I can do. This tutoring is for just the Countess and the Baroness."
"Ah." ShadowWhisper bowed her horns. "Still, do what you can for them.
"I will," Visha assured.
"You don't need to worry about me." I very much did not pout as I did up the clasps on my leather valise, turning to glare at Visha once that task was accomplished.
Visha gave me a very patient smile before turning to the Tribune. "Thank you for helping her with her thesis, Ma'am."
"Oh, it's nothing. I'm happy to help a studious young Centurion with her work in the War College. And how are your classes going?"
"Very good," Visha assured.
"I think she'll make the grade for Primus without any difficulty," I said agreeing. The cadet squadron was a pain, but they were showing great progress, and they gave ample opportunity for Visha and VioletBlood to get practice in the role of Flight Leader. GreyDawn too for that matter, but she was not in the Primus Centurion track.
"Yes, that is good for you," ShadowWhisper said as the three of us started to walk out of the unused lecture hall.
"I don't want to disappoint," Visha said eagerly. Which, given all she had done for me in this life and the last, was quite a redundant sentiment. She had more than earned a nice easy life as a reward, but I knew she was too good, too loyal of a person to not help.
The Tribune smiled at us and, carrying her own purple valise, gave a slight bow of her horns before going down the hallway.
"That sounds very promising," Visha cheered as we went the other way towards a set of stairs.
"I suppose it is," I allowed as we went down to the ground level.
"Oh, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, just all the pressure from the projects," I stated. We were out in the crisp early winter air of the War College's New Quad. The name was a bit of a misnomer as the quadrangle was delineated by the extension of the library extension, extra lecture halls, and a dormitory the youngest of which had been constructed three centuries ago. While that might not be too old, at least by Silvan standards, the New Quad was not the newest of the open spaces on campus, making the misnomer even more notable.
The two of us were soon passing through the Fountain Quad, which was only half a century old. and thus the "actual new quad". And yes, the New Quad could have been renamed but by then the name was fixed in the collective consciousness of the War College. I looked at the drained-out fountain with the onyx obelisk in the center. It was another memorial to DarkStar; as far as monuments on that theme went, I quite liked it. I preferred the more subdued, abstract design, as opposed to the statuary with her looking mournful or wounded. I did bow to the silver symbols on the surfaces and felt a bit of warmth at the familiar ritual of obeisance.
Visha gave me a smile, her question unstated.
The companionable silence continued as we walked out through the War College's gates and down to the funicular station. The wait was minimal and soon we were in a car trundling down-slope to our transfer station and then we were on our way home. We didn't quite head straight back to the townhouse, making a few a brief detours to a butcher's shop and a bakery to pick up some odds and ends. Lilly, the head maid, had mentioned that a few of the ingredients for tonight's dinner had run perilously low in the larder, and I had volunteered to pick up the regular orders on my way back home.
Somewhere along the way, though the quiet between us ceased to be companionable and had grown oppressive, made moreso by the subdued chattering from the other passengers as we rode a second funicular away from the stretch of shops where the bakery stood. I took Visha's hand in mine as I conceded our little game, my will finally cracking. "Fine. I may have a bit of anxiety about our future."
"Ours?" My second's tone was coy but there was a bit of genuine concern there as well.
"No, not that!" I squeezed her hand. "Not personal, I mean professional."
Her tail snaked around behind me and over my hip, pulling me closer. "You're worried about Quirinus's new Demi-wing being like... the 203rd?" she lowered her voice at the last of it.
"For a start," I moved my hand from her hand and put it around her shoulder, "I trust Quirinus; I'd be happy staying one of her subordinates, as long as I can."
"Oh good!" Visha's cheer re-emerged as she returned the hug. "I thought you were worried about today's lessons with LoveBlood!"
++++++++++
Visha was right. Curse her smooth assurances! Crossing my arms, I huffed at my reflection.
"My lady, could you please lessen your squirming?" Reinhild SunShower gently asked.
"I am not squirming," I airily stated.
"You're flopping like a landed fish," VioletBlood smirked from where she leaned against the wall, clearly amused at my discomfort. "Do you want her to mess up your curls?" She wore a shiny confection of lace trim, poofy shoulders, pleated skirting, stockings, and bows. The outfit bore a passing resemblance to a legionary dress uniform, though a version heavily prettied up for the stage and screen. It was certainly gaudy enough for the latter.
"I don't want curls, period," I muttered. My reflection showed I was similarly dressed. Though somehow with even more gewgaws and fripperies. The hair pins and ribbons were oversized but at least were regulation-proper awards, and the DarkStar icons hung from my tail were proper if not quite my style. I honestly preferred my relic earrings and my locket, but I had gotten used to wearing my religion, or at least the one I was raised, practiced, and had a cultural affinity for, on my sleeve.
"You like mine well enough," VioletBlood smugly stated as she presented the tubular curls that framed her face.
It was impossible to decide weather I disliked my teased curls more or less than I despised tonight's outfit. I looked between my maid and my baroness. Despite the fact that I was shorter than the haughty noble, VioletBlood had more of her legs covered by than I did. As far as skirts went, this one as wholly unsatisfactory, and yet at some point my opinion had seemingly ceased to matter.
I suspected trickery on the part of the kitsune, but I had learned to not challenge the people who had access to your food. "Well, they look good on you, and I don't want to copy your style," I stated, attempting duplicity.
"You need not be concerned, my lady," Reinhild assured with a vulpine grin. "Your curls will fall elegantly behind you between your wings, assuming, that is if you stop squirming, and allow me to finish," she hissed the last word out and held the wand of her hair curler in a way that was nearly insubordinate.
"You wanted to look your best, did you not?" VioletBlood teased.
"If I wanted to look my best, I wouldn't be wearing this parody of a legion dress uniform," I sighed, letting Reinhild shape my hair.
"Ah, but these are regulation uniforms," VioletBlood sniffed, triumph gleaming in her eyes..
I glared at her. She was not wrong. "Only on a technicality."
"And petitioning by Aedile Felisia," VioletBlood said as if that settled things. Which it did. One of the Imperatrix's Daughters, Felisia was, along with Censor CloudFire, one of the chief advocates for BlackSkyvian culture.
As an Aedile, Felisia was responsible for the maintenance of public buildings, the regulation of public festivals, and various elements of Household rites and ceremonies. If she wanted the Imperial Legions to have a uniform with a frilly skirt, stockings, and lace cuffs then she would get that. Even if the uniform was a vestigial technicality that was almost never worn. And was worn by fewer Legionaries than the most extreme dress uniform, the one with extra brocade, plumes and gold braid.
"And Felisia just happens to be the patron of the Mima Lumina Academy," VioletBlood smirked. It was times like this that I was reminded that my baroness could be a bit insufferable.
"I think you're ready," Reinhild said, giving my hair a final brush as she adjusted my various bows, ornaments, and other gewgaws.
"Think positive thoughts! Our previous lesson tested our deportment, dancing and carousing, after all" VioletBlood purred, levering herself up from the wall.
"I sort of preferred those gowns. They were more honest," I admitted giving my reflection one last sour look before I forced my painted features into a warm and pleasant smile. Based on my kitsune's and my baroness's reactions I toned my expression down a bit. Given this was the midpoint of our curriculum, I was a bit surprised we were wearing something so... casual.
"I'll keep that in mind," VioletBlood said as she gallantly held out her arm. I took it and with a sigh let her take me out of the room.
Visha and GreyDawn looked up from the card table in the common room. Skilled gamblers both, their poker faces remained immaculately straight at the sight of us, betraying no sign of any reaction to our getups.
"Don't laugh," I said through gritted teeth, my tone almost saccharine enough to conceal the growl.
"Never crossed my mind, Ma'am," GreyDawn assured me dutifully.
"It's a shame your crown isn't ready," Visha noted, unapologetically cheerful.
My tail flicked. My Duchess's patience had run out and after assisting with the Samoth thing had taken me to a very unassuming and sober shop on the plaza across from the bridge that served as the Palace's main entrance. The goldsmiths and enchanters inside had not been the longest in the service of Imperatrix nor had they made the most ostentatious pieces, such as various Imperial crowns, scepters, ceremonial, and ritualistic weapons. Most of those grand pieces were made in-house as it were, by BlackSky's personal crafters.
On the other wing, the firm of Honestas and SaphireFiligree had made all of the above, often for the Imperial Family and other Household organizations. I tried to object to my mother about how much she was spending to commission my tiara from people who made wedding regalia for BlackSky's Daughters, refurbished the fittings of the highest of Relics, and formed many of the Imperatrix's everyday ornaments. It was an exempse entirely out of proportion to my lowly rank, Preserver Crown be damned.
"It is," VioletBlood agreed, "It would look so perfect with these uniforms."
I stared at my Vs. LoveBlood was not wrong. We had seen the conceptual drawings and the polished white-metal and glass proof of concept. As things went, it would be a, by Preserver Crown standards, rather elegant and understated piece. "I fear that's the intention."
Shrugging, GreyDawn started absently shuffling a deck. A wise move for an NCO to get out of her officer's way.
"You'll do great!" Visha cheered as something off to my side flashed with a bright light
Looking a bit guilty, Reinhild lowered the brass-fitted camera. "I am sorry, Countess, but your mother was insistent." Despite her apologetic tones, my aide's tails were swishing merrily.
"I'm sure it's a lovely photo," Visha said, her own tail moving about.
VioletBlood gave a triumphant smile and then, politely, pulled me out of the common room, down the hall, and down the grand staircase.
Passively, I let myself be taken across the city. This time it was a straightforward route, down one funicular to a bottom hub station and up another that rose as it crossed the Phlegethon river. I tried to make small talk with LoveBlood, but even she noticed that I was distant.
"It's not that bad. You should cheer up," she declared as we went up the stone stairs that were connected to the station by a curved path.
I stared at her once we reached the top. "I'm not sure it works that way."
"I'm just applying your lessons on how to motivate subordinates," she confidently stated as she looked around. This park always left her a bit speechless.
The glen was middling in size and, like most open spaces in this city, had the expected trees. Most of their branches were bare, but a few still bore orange and red leaves. That gave the statuary a more stark impression against branches and grey sky. In warmer months, this park, just outside the Academy, was a verdant place.
It was full of bronze statuary, most of it life-sized and case in a variety of poses that ranged from stately to jingoistic to seductive, all with names, awards, and titles carved into the plinths. They were the Daughters of BlackSky.
House Legate AshRain was on guard, sheathed sword in hand, sober, dignified, but with a restrained aggression. Censor CloudFire was lasciviously playful as if she had temptations aplenty. First Citizen RedStorm was captured mid-stride, confident and strong in the heraldry as the ruler of her own Great House. Praetor DawnStrike, ever the diplomat, beckoned friends with one hand but cautioned enemies with the other. Aedile Felisia stood proud in the superiority of our culture and society. And these were just a fraction of the statues.
And yet half a dozen of the plinths stood empty, their honors and ranks chiseled off, leaving just truncated names. Most of these belonged to the traitors from the eponymous Revolt of the Daughters. Though a few had come many centuries later. It was sobering. The statues and honors were gone, but the names remained. It was a public admission that the Imperial Family, the Imperatrix, was not perfect.
"I guess it's a good thing we're early," VioletBlood said, taking my arm and pulling me towards a statue that stood separately and apart from the others. This one was carved of pale marble and set on a black plinth surrounded by a small reflecting pool. Votive candles flickered in niches on the pool's edge.
My eyes met the forgiving but haunted visage rendered in the white marble. Her hair was done in a scarlet stone that was carved into tumbling curls. As I bowed my head, I looked for a seam or something to show that these were two pieces of stone fitted to each other. But like every other visit, I was left with the impression that this was carved from a single piece of two-tone marble that happened to be exactly what the sculptor required.
I fell into prayer with a lifetime's experience, or at least that of my most recent. This time I did request for mental clarity and serenity. It was meditative, reminded me of my mother, and I started to feel calmer. I still preferred the more abstract memorials.
"I knew that would cheer you up," VioletBlood said, her tone self-congratulatory even as she took my hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Um... How considerate of you." I hesitated, noting her cocky expression.
"I'm happy that you're happy," VioletBlood sounded sincere, but she clearly had an ulterior motive.
Frowning, I wondered if it had to do with the negotiations that would formalize our relationship. I was not engaged in any great rush which my Duchess seemed fine with, for now. Or it could be VioletBlood wanted to make sure she would make Flight Leaders.
"How can someone so pious be so paranoid?" VioletBlood snorted as she pulled me out of the park and towards the academy's gates.
I did not dignify that with a response.
The grounds of Mima Lumina Academy were immaculate. Even with winter imminent, there were a few cold-friendly plants that leant a splash of color to the gardens and the trees looked lovely as well. The buildings had a charming, if slightly pompous, formality to them all pillars and gables.
In a way it stood as a reflection of the War College across the river on the other side of the city. Both were grand institutions of the House and expressions of Imperial power. The War College's role was obvious, but I had gotten some appreciation for Mima Lumina's capability in polishing and training the various courtiers, diplomats, guilders and even artificers. For the latter the academy did have an impressive curriculum in the arcane sciences.
The difference was simply that I was comfortable with the instructors and students of the Imperial War College. Part of it was that it was as simple as wearing the proper uniform and fitting in. More broadly, they represented a world and mindset that I understood entirely.
Every time I stepped onto Mima Lumina Academy, on the other hand, I immediately felt self-conscious. I was not one of the students in their lacy blue blouses, frilly skirts and matching fluffy bows, and I certainly did not have the effortless elegance of the instructors.
Aggressively and haughtily, LoveBlood strode in as if she owned the place. Mamy of the students did stop to watch us with something approaching awe. A few sneered and tried to make snide comments, but my baroness practically pointed me at anyone who dared to speak up.
My reputation was helpful here. Anyone who saw me as a bloody-handed jumped-up provincial orphan knew I was dangerous because of that. I hated any time the propaganda served a purpose. After dealing with spoiled noble brats who could at the very least fight, these were almost too easy.
"This is why we need that crown of yours to be finished," VioletBlood smugly said as she gave a smirk to a small clique of almost ethereally-alluring girls all in matching gold and sapphire leotards and little skirts who sniffed dismissively at us as one. Shouldering bladed skates, they left showing impressive synchronization.
"Don't take it personally, my lady," a student with plaited ebony hair in a ballerina outfit apologized. She and her cohorts wore dark blue bodysuits that were more practical for practice as opposed to an eye-catching display for stage.
"I did not. Offense was not given. And I am not so petty as to demand an Apology out of those girls," I said and then inclined my horns. "Pardon, you have me at an advantage."
"I am Lady Laura BloodFrost, of the Emona BloodFrosts."
"Charmed, I heard it's lovely this time of year." Emona was a large island about a thousand miles due south of here.
"Oh, I'm used to Silvan winters by now, but if you're ever in the area my family would love to have you, and your betrothed," Laura amended.
VioletBlood gave me a far-too-self-satisfied look. "Regretfully, I must clarify; we are soon to be betrothed," she apologized to the ballerina while the rest of the troupe tittered.
"Does the figure skating club have a grievance or have their studies put them under pressure?" I remarked carefully and with precise diction, because that was proper and not because I had to take measure of my words before I said them.
Laura gave a sly look with her friends. "Ah, no. The poor ice girls are jealous."
I curled my tail and gave an inquisitive look.
"They've always had a rivalry with Mima Lumina's ballet troupe, and now both of you are here."
"There aren't many Imperial Heroes who were also figure skaters," one of the ballerinas giggled.
"We would love to watch you practice, but we have our lessons," VioletBlood apologized.
"Maybe another time?" Lady Laura aiggled, giving me a smile. There was something... eager and awed about the ballerina. Despite being the same age as me, she probably had a far more sheltered life, and thus had no context for the reality of being a Legion Flier.
"Of course," VioletBlood promised before I could reply.
Waving, bowing, and farewells commenced, and the ballerinas gave coy giggles when they saw VioletBlood openly taking me by the hand, and then curled her tail around mine, as we left.
I may have let out a surprised noise.
"Oh, don't complain, you've been hitting me with your tail for years, Countess," VioletBlood purred.
"That's different! And I don't do that anymore."
VioletBlood gave an exaggerated pout.
"And we're here for etiquette lessons." I tried to free my tail.
The baroness shrugged. "Good news is we found another Islander Girl for you. And this one's a ballerina and nobility, if barely."
I eyed her. "I'm not replacing Visha."
She snorted. "Of course not. Victorious is a capable Pilot."
I sighed.
"She has many other talents!" VioletBlood protested. "I'm happy to have her!"
"Really, LoveBlood?"
"The Lady BloodFrost is interested. And if she's a spare daughter or a minor cadet branch of a minor province then her mothers would be thrilled to have her be a Mistress for a Countess such as you."
I exhaled and let my tail relax. In her way, it was thoughtful, and I'm sure my Duchess would approve of LoveBlood being so considerate towards my preferences. "Your political supposition is not incorrect. Though I think her flirting was just being polite."
"And a bit of hero worship?" VioletBlood teased as we approached a granite-dressed building.
"Oh, certainly that."
"I'm not hearing you object to us taking Lady FrostBlood's offer to watch her troupe practice."
I gave her an amenable shrug.
The architecture was an interesting blend of sweeping curves and stolid construction. It was one of the academy's lecture hall buildings, and had a collection of circular amphitheaters of varying sizes as well as a handful of literal ballrooms.
That its eclectic collection of curved rooms did not look like a disorganized mess showed a considerable design elegance, not to mention skill with acoustic layout. However it did render a building that, while the main rooms were all intuitively easy to find, had a veritable warren of smaller chambers of all sorts of shapes.
"They must have an impressive cleaning staff here," VioletBlood noted as our heels clicked on the inlaid floors as we entered the building.
"The students do it," I stated.
VioletBlood tittered. "Really? That's something I expect from the Legions and not these pampered welps."
"It's about learning how to run an estate. It's similar to how a lot of the cooking and serving in their cafeteria is done," I said as we went through the main hallway as it curved slightly to one side.
Smiling, VioletBlood spotted a couple maids in blue livery cleaning a chandelier and inspecting its gas-lamps. For the latter, a woman in a jumpsuit watched them. Her suit was tailored to fit her, with periwinkle accents and little ruffles, but it was at its heart a practical uniform. That, and she had a toolbox to one side. "And I suppose taking turns as the supervisor and as the menials is supposed to teach them character?"
"What do you think? You just had a gaggle of Fleet cadets cleaning the hangar and maintenance bays at your beck and call."
VioletBlood's green eyes gave a wicked gleam.
"You haven't been too mean to them?" I asked.
"DarkStar forbid," VioletBlood smoothly assured.
Slipping free, my tail flicked with disbelief.
She pouted as we entered the lecture hall. It was one of the smaller ones in the building and was less a classroom and more of a stylish salon. For any other course of study, it would be odd to be taught in what amounted to a refined lounge full of tasteful art-pieces and refined furniture.
Even by the standards of Mima Lumina Academy this particular lecture hall was rather sumptuous. There were a handful of lacquered tables that served as desks each with a couple of overstuffed leather chairs.
There were two large sideboards under the windows at the front of the lecture hall. I frowned; normally they would have the various props and lecture materials for the day's lesson, but now they were.... empty. My curiosity at what today's lesson would be lingered as I looked at the rest of the room.
Four other students were already sitting down. Half were in frilly Legion blacks like VioletBlood and myself, the other half in ostentatious Fleet whites. The other noble young officers ranged up to late teens while I was the youngest by far, though one of the Fleet nobles who entered behind us was about VioletBlood's age. It was a bit hard to tell because, while slender with long glossy ash-blonde hair, the Telum Prefect Centurion had strong features and was male-presenting in form.
I gave a little bit of jealousy as the Prefect Landgrave Camillus managed to avoid wearing a skirt. On the other wing, his uniform exchanged frills for brocade and ostentatiously laced cuffs. The look was good on Camilus, but perhaps a bit more effeminate for my tastes even if it did come with pants.
Following my eye, VioletBlood made a thoughtful murmur and pulled us over to the dashing young officer.
Large dark purple tail swishing, the Torpedo Squadron commander bowed to us as we approached. "How can I help our graceful Ace Legion Fliers?" Landgrave Camilus's counter-tenor came out in a smooth purr.
"My Primus was admiring your uniform," VioletBlood said without any shame. "Why her gaze was kept on everything below the sash and above your boots."
Camilus chuckled. "You are shameless, Baroness."
VioletBlood gave a toothy smile.
Any further commentary was cut off by an increase in the pressure on all of our horns.
"Baroness VioletBlood, you have been flagrantly indecorous," Dame Preceptrix Lilith Severitas GracefulGold stated, sashaying into the room as she spoke. From her curled emerald coiffure to the rubies that hung from her ears, neck, horns, and wings, to the shimmering silk gown that managed to be understated accenting whilst simultaneously overindulgently opulent. The Preceptrix managed to wear a hideously expensive gown with an effortlessness that put my Duchess's manners to shame. Despite her bearing, she was no princess. However, she was distantly related to the Imperial Family.
VioletBlood wilted under the stern, but oh so perfect, gaze of our instructor. "Is this a recent discourtesy of mine, Dame Preceptrix?"
"Unless you've made a habit of entwining tails in front of the student body, yes I am talking about recent events." GracefulGold's eyes went to me and her forest green lips curled up. "Though, to your credit, you did respond to the action in question with commendable serenity and did not worsen the transgression to making a scene, Countess."
VioletBlood pouted while Camilus gave a polite laugh.
"And you have little grounds to be amused at the indelicacies of your peers, my handsome Landgrave." Preceptrix GracefulGold gave the room a study. "Well, at least none of you are tardy. Class, if you'll take your seats."
I had to help the bristling VioletBlood to our table. Two Fleet sisters with blue trim on their Fleet whites in the next table over were all mocking smiles at us. They were both Countesses with industrial holdings in Vordurium. Giving them a measured glare, I absently adjusted my left glove, loosening each finger as if I were about to pull it off.
The Marcellus twins stopped cold, tails still, their grey eyes focusing on me. I then straightened my glove back onto my hand and bowed my horns before turning back to our instructor.
Tail swishing, VioletBlood gave me a supportive, and a bit vindictive, pulse. I did not like throwing my weight around, and implying that I would threaten to duel a pair of haughty submarine communications and scrying officers. Dueling was a wasteful tail-measuring contest; besides Albina and Valeria were, in their way, extremely deadly officers. Their bond allowed them to give excellent, secure, and quiet communications between two submarines, not to mention their affinity with sonar and scrying systems.
Even for a pair with such unique skills, doing both roles was taxing, and their Commanders had to prioritize such things. Of everyone in the room, the twins had the most confirmed enemy kills, even if it was as part of ships' crew.
Preceptrix GracefulGold, oh so delicately, cleared her throat, and our attention was naturally drawn to her. Not quite an elder demoness, she still had great personal power and magnetism. "I wish to congratulate you," she said from the polished lectern at the front of the room, "I understand you would rather spend your time in the capital training or studying war. Your diligence to the House is commendable."
The other students preened a bit; I was on guard.
"However, you have responsibilities that come with your stations. Hence these lessons. Even nobles of the sword, even Imperial Heroines can use some polish. Which you have been commendable at." She gave a disarming smile that showed just a glimpse of her fangs. "That is why I want to congratulate you for reaching the halfway point of your tutoring here, and to give you a reward."
My tail stilled. I had spent more than enough time in military organizations to know that rewards could be quite dubious. I had been on the giving and receiving ends frequently enough.
GracefulGold's laughter was honeyed. "Do not fret. I asked you to come in uniform to reflect your commitments to our House. And these specific uniforms as a favor."
Glancing to VioletBlood, I tilted my horns. She was as perplexed as I. Frowning, I expected our instructor to have said these uniforms were a reflection of the duality of the peerage and the sword or some other claptrap. Then I felt a presence of such power that it was an almost elemental pressure front blowing in. My horns tingled uncomfortably as if the air was pregnant with the tension of an incipient thunderstorm.
I froze, briefly terrified at the idea that the Imperatrix herself was coming.
The Preceptrix's smile was now all teeth. "I did not want to burden you with the formal gowns or uniforms that would otherwise be required for such an exalted guest." She held out a hand and pulled with a single finger, swinging the wooden doors to the room open.
A force of nature in demonic form strode in. I had a moment of relief: she was not Imperatrix BlackSky. That emotion was quickly crushed as it was obvious who was visiting: one of her Daughters.
The statue had captured Felisia's face and elegant proportions, but did little to cover the sheer awesome deluge or her presence. Shorter than many of her sisters, she had tumbling blonde hair and wore a shimmering dress that went from midnight blue at the floor length hem to indigo at the long swinging sleeves to cobalt at the decolletage.
Diamonds twinkled as sequined trim and accents to her dress and as ornaments and jewelry. Crystalline perfection emanated from her as she inexorably approached with sublime poise. Much of her sparkled, from her powder blue horns, with the veil draped over them, to her necklace and the fins of her tail. Bright, luminous cerulean eyes studied us as platinum lips graded us with a warm smile.
I suppose GracefulGold's training was effective. Despite the existential dread and the feeling of being a bug in a bell-jar being inspected by some inscrutable being, all of us did get up and gave proper curtseys, or bow in Calimus's case. It was a bit ridiculous given how short our skirts were, but being polite to someone who was a literal strategic asset was only sensible.
Felisia smiled and inclined her horns to us. "It is a pleasure to meet you all. Please treat this as an informal event. My great grand-niece has said much about you and I wanted to meet you without too much pomp and ceremony."
I managed not to stare. I suppose by the standards of the Imperial Family her gown, and our uniforms counted. While frilly, they were not the highest level of ceremonial formality. I did not even own the confection of gold and black silk that was the Imperial Legion's most formal dress. That was a garment that required a polished plumed helmet or, in my case, a crown. More than our sartorial state, my suspicions were raised. This had to be some type of midterm exam, there was no way one of the Imperatrix's Daughters would just drop in.
"And to make things more at ease," Felisia gave an absent, effortless wave of her hand and the room filled with the scents of fresh sweet pastries, savory stews, ripe fruits, steaks, and other cuts of meat. The sidebars at the front of the room were suddenly filled with refreshments and a whole table with various carafes and bottles.
VioletBlood made a hungry murmur, and not just at the repast before us. Either Felisia had the foodstuffs here ahead of time and had kept them under a Veil that covered both sight and smell, or she had simply teleported them in from some staging location elsewhere in the academy. Both options were disquieting as she had used that level of control as a mere parlor trick.
Felisia smiled at us all standing in place. She then turned to our instructor. "Lilith, perhaps you trained them to be a bit too diffident."
GracefulGold bowed her horns.
I suppose we were all on guard, though this did not seem to be an exam. Perhaps, I should act as if it were not part of the class. Besides, this was an excellent networking opportunity.
I took VioletBlood's hand and went straight for Felisia. "Oh, how bold," the baroness whispered as the rest of the small class watched us.
"Your Highness, Aedile Felisia, Daughter of BlackSky, it is a pleasure to meet you," I said giving another curtsy. "May I have the privilege of introducing myself and my soon to be betrothed?" I asked as LoveBlood purred.
The pressure was intense at this range, only an arms-length away from the Daughter. It was like being enveloped in the Imperial's presence, an experience that should have been smothering, and if she was displeased with me, likely would be. "Oh, Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, the pleasure is mine. You are known to the Family. You and your fierce companion, Volantes Centurion Baroness VioletBlood," Felisia assured, those luminous blue eyes boring into us. Of course she would use our full names and titles.
"Ah, that is fortunate," I demurred after recovering my bearings. "I serve the House as best I can."
"Quite. My younger sister AshRain has been watching you with interest." Felisia smiled as she reached out and for a brief moment took my hands in hers. I stilled. The most shocking part was that her skin felt warm. Despite there being no shock, my horns were all pins and needles and I tried to get my tail under control. Somehow I felt more... shimmering.
"We shall talk shortly," Felisia continued, as if there was no pause. "But first I must make introductions with your compatriots. Please, get some refreshments."
++++++++++
It was for the best that there were about half a dozen of us. Spending too much time with a Daughter of the Imperatrix was a bit like too much time in the sauna. It was pleasant, even relaxing, but it could turn oppressive, and even a brief respite was gloriously refreshing.
Nibbling at something savory, VioletBlood sat next to me with a very contented and only somewhat smug smile. "And you objected to these lessons," she whispered.
I shrugged my wings.
"You seem less tense."
"I could use a bath, a cold bath," I clarified. My Duchess's residence did have a full set of baths.
VioletBlood's grin grew. "Maybe we could wash up when we get back."
"That's not a bad idea," I agreed. We were cadets together, in the same ballet troupe, and served in the same jungle FOB and other DarkStar forsaken places; we both knew the value of simple luxuries like a good shower.
VioletBlood's tail went limp. "You don't have to make everything so practical."
"A proper bath isn't that practical! You don't need to have the hot and cold soaks."
The baroness huffed and turned her head away from me.
Albina, the longer haired of the Marcellus twins, looked to her sister before giving me a sympathetic look. "Don't take it too hard. This is stressful for all of us," she quietly confided.
"This is a great opportunity and she is extending every courtesy," I replied. There was no doubt that Felisia could hear every word we were saying. I would be surprised if she could not follow every conversation in the room at once, but she maintained the polite fiction that we had measure of privacy. It was similar to the polite fiction that she did not possess the power to dominate and enthrall or simply subvert and distort.
"Just look at poor Camilus," Valeria stated.
The tall Fleet officer appeared to be having an engaging conversation with Felisia. But Camilus's body language was just brittle enough to hint at his self-conscious anxiety. Diyu Demons taking a male aspect was fairly uncommon, and, exceptional centurion or not, Camilus was talking with perhaps the staunchest cultural traditionalist in the Imperial Family.
"Don't be so worried about him," VioletBlood sniffed. "Camilus is being proper. Remember who requested these uniforms?"
After sipping my coffee, I bowed my horns to the baroness. Almost all of our uniforms were unisex, though tailoring could make up for a lot. However the one set of uniforms that had skirts also had a variant with pants. "Clever. She's sending a lot of messages."
What could have been seen as a heterodox deviancy was co-opted and pulled into BlackSkyvian culture. Imperial Heroes, ones with status, rank, and honor were given quite the latitude, as long as certain forms and proprieties were maintained.
"It's not just our military and arcane technology that needs to adapt and advance," Valeria piously said.
"And who better to make sure our culture grows in a proper and beneficial direction than Aedile Felisia?" Albina asked.
My first instinct was to point out Censor CloudFire's remit covered much of the same areas, that the Imperatrix herself had considerable sway, or that the height of hubris required to presume that one person, ancient demon or no, would be able to control an entire society's development was taller than the Imperial Palace.
Instead, I simply inclined my horns in a polite, if vague, agreement. Political peril aside, I did not have the time or inclination to get into an argument. Bringing politics into the workplace, which this salon most assuredly was, was risky at the best of time.
Felisia had finished talking with Camilus and, to my mild dread, was beckoning VioletBlood and myself over.
The second time talking with a Daughter went a bit better. There was a bit less shock of surprise, but there was more comprehension of the magnitude of the situation. That her presence felt pleasant only heightened my internal anxiety.
Imagine you are a small bat, like an eastern leaf-nosed bat or a red-winged Vanus bat. Some creature that, despite being small and fluffy, is, for her size, an agile flier and capable predator. And then a vast being of titanic power picks you up. The being is roughly in your shape. She has hair and wings and a tail, but the proportions are wrong, and she holds you in a cage of claws that are larger than your body.
She could kill you with a thought, but does not. And instead of a benign, indifferent observation... this being smiles. She finds you charming and fascinating, and wants to learn all about you.
And Felisia was not one of the older Daughters, nor was she one of the more martial ones. She was more of a proponent of soft power, social controls, and cultural means which was, in its way, worse.
I managed to keep up a pleasant facade through the introductory small talk.
Felisia smiled at us. "But I did want to congratulate you."
"On what, your Highness?" I asked. My Zephyr seemed curious but calm, as if the Daughter's power while intriguing was no threat.
Briefly studying me, her platinum lips curled into a smile. "My younger sister might have wanted the honor, or that gallant new Tribune Quirinus, and they'll get the chance to do it, officially."
I just gave a nod. The praise felt good, but I suspected what it would be a poisoned chalice.
"And heroes such as you, as you present yourself and as you truly are, deserve reward. Congratulations, soon-to-be Prefect Centurion." Felisia bowed her horns to me deeply. She offered drinks, more of the brandy she was drinking for VioletBlood and coffee for me.
I returned the gesture. This was not surprising. I knew this was coming since I had started at the War College, but it was one thing to know it; it was another to have a member of the Imperial Family confirm it.
Informally of course, but when someone from the Imperial Family says that about one's future promotion.... it will happen.
VioletBlood smiled at me and took my arm.
"And congratulations to you for qualifying for Primus as well," Felisia told VioletBlood. "Give Miss Shadow the same accolades, and an experienced centurion like Miss GreyDawn more than deserves her pending Signifer rank. Also I must congratulate you on a masterful instruction to your cadets"
As LoveBlood gushed, I patted her hand but I was still pondering. I had eight pilot slots to fill. At least I had two Flight Leaders which meant I only needed one more Primus Centurion. Though between Quirinus, my Duchess, the other Legion officers I was on good terms with, and the Imperial Family, I had more than enough of a network to get my pick of qualified Polyxo Pilots. I could take some comfort that I was less of a cosmic plaything, but I was still unmistakably the plaything of beings far more powerful than me.
Felisia sipped her drink. "If you will allow an indulgence. I am not an active officer and no expert on the ways of the Imperial Legions, but if you'll allow me some advice."
"Of course, your Highness," I assured, trying to keep my tail from freezing in horror.
"Your cadets. You have done much with them, especially considering the... unreasonable expectations some of them initially set," Felisia delicately said.
I took a drink of the quite excellent coffee. That at least obscured much of my face. "Ah, I think I understand."
"I don't mean all of them," Felisia assured, "That would be impractical, but accepting a handful for an active assignment. That... would allay the concerns of some powerful figures, and it would allow you to keep a close eye on some young Pilots. Those of great potential and skill, but lacking in experience. I believe your mentor Quirinus did much the same with you and your baroness."
Somehow, my tail did not twitch, though it may have curled up a bit. "That is true," I allowed. Of course I could not be free of politics. Still, having only a few of those noble brats under me, instead of an entire reinforced squadron would be an improvement.
"I have some ideas on who you can pick," VioletBlood said with a wicked smile, because of course she had thought about this.
"Excellent!" Felisia took a dainty sip. "And I would think having both fresh pilots and experienced ones would help the cadets learn that much faster."
I gave her a nod and a note of agreement. She was correct. That could help the novice pilots get up to speed, but at the cost of having the overall squadron take longer to grow into a cohesive unit. "I suppose the other Squadrons under Quirinus could use time to work-up, not to mention all four learning to operate as part of a Demi-Wing."
Felisia gave an airy shrug. Not to indicate she was dismissive of such military concerns, but that they were not her sphere of interest. I suppose GracefulGold's lessons had some value.
"Presuming there is not any great unpleasantness, it will not be immediate. Why, your tutoring here is only halfway done. And I know an industrious lady such as yourself will certainly make the best use of her time."
Ah, that was why she was telling me early. "I thank you for this notice. I will make sure to go about my selections both for my Squadron and Cadet placement recommendations for my cadets with the least.... acrimony."
Felisia's blue eyes locked onto me and for a moment wondered if she had peeled through my mind. "While, I appreciate delicacy in such actions. I would suggest you keep the Legion's interests in mind."
"Naturally," I bowed my horns. That was... flexible. The Imperial Legions, as an institution, was rather pragmatic and goal-focused. Part of that came from being the smaller, less glamorous, junior service. Still that meant that Legion Brass-horns were more than willing to play political games if that was what was required.
The Imperatrix's Daughter studied me for a moment. "Perhaps I should clarify. Make your choices with the Legion's practical interests in mind. Seek out the help of your Duchess, your Tribune and other sources. Make your selections using your best judgment, Countess. And... if you feel that some of the mothers of your cadets will be angry that their daughters were not among the ones you selected, please do not hesitate to contact my office," Felisia smoothly said as an ebony card with gilt edges appeared in her hand.
It was warm to the touch and, at a glance, was more than done in gilt leaf. The thick card felt like it was inlaid with gold and other precious metals, not to mention the blue twinkling jewels that were set in the corners. More than being precious metals, I could feel the enchantments laid into them and the card itself. The contact information shimmered and changed with subtle illusion magic and some sort of thaumaturgical link. I was certain that this was a calling card in a very literal sense.
Smelling faintly of sandalwood and rosewater, the hideously expensive artifact slipped it into one of the hidden pockets of my uniform. At least this frilly confection of a garment had that much going for it. "Thank you, I hope I will not need such assistance, but I shall take it if it proves necessary," I gracefully said. That was the deal then. As long as I took some number of cadets, the Imperial Family would smooth over any acrimony from the families of those who were placed in a less glamorous Flight School or Scouting Branch posting.
I suppose I could still reject the deal, but that would be snubbing an offer of assistance from a Daughter.
"That is most generous," VioletBlood effusively stated before going to me. "There, now you don't have to worry about offending the wrong noble matron."
Felisia smiled beatifically at us. "It is a pleasure to meet with the flower of BlackSkyvian youth. To see those who protect us." The Daughter studied my earrings. "It is fitting."
"Your Highness?"
"Oh, just rumors," Felisia drank some brandy. "Mother misses her so. And she never lost hope."
I nodded. It was a key tenet of the Church that DarkStar would return to us. I was skeptical, although not because I thought that reincarnation was impossible. Indeed, I knew for a fact that was very much a real thing, as did Visha, and besides the phenomena was hardly undocumented on Diyu. However, the wait for her return had now stretched over entire millennia of waiting. As such, there had been more than a few "false" DarkStars, and the prospect that the real article would return seemed like a mirage, always receding further and further away.
"We all pray that she will return to us," I stated, with all sincerity, bowing my head.
"Did you know her?" VioletBlood asked, to my quiet horror.
Felisia gave a sad laugh. "Alas, my bloody baroness, her loss was before my time. However, my older sisters were around then and DawnStrike remembers her fondly. More than my own desire to meet DarkStar, I hope to be there to see when Dawn and Mother reunite with her."
The ancient demoness' face flickered with melancholy but was soon banished. "But that is enough of the past, let us talk about the future, your future."
++++++++++
I will freely admit that after our "lessons" I had let my mind wander and may have put too much trust in LoveBlood's judgment and guidance. I know it was just my mind, but the card from Aedile Felisia felt warm in my tunic pocket. It felt like a reminder, a tangible memory proving that the evening in the salon had, in fact, happened, and that the Daughter had apparently been observing my instruction of the cadets. I spent the funicular ride home mulling over the time I had left at the War College.
I would have to accelerate my lesson plan. A lucky number of the cadets under me would not have the luxury of the usual route through Flight School followed by a low-tempo initial posting. Instead, they would be coming with me. Thus, for their survivability and mine, I would have to make sure they would be qualified.
It was with those thoughts in mind that I hardly noticed as we went down the steep valley of the city, made the transfer to another line, and then that we had gotten off the ascending funicular well before our normal station.
The schmoozing and networking with a Daughter of the Imperatrix had taken a fair bit of time. GracefulGold wanted to be sure that all of us got some time with Felisia, and our instructor had gotten in a couple lessons and refinements as to the proper ways to interact with the Imperial Family.
"Where are we going?" I asked when we waited at an intersection. Glancing about I could see the spire of the Palace and was able to estimate our distance, and elevation. Not too far down-slope of the Imperial War College, we were in a bit rowdier part of the city, or at least the part that the various journeymen and apprentices of the guild-halls considered rowdy. The really... exciting parts of the city were to the east in the dockyards, freight yards, and stockyards.
"I wanted to take you someplace to help you recover from all the tension of our meeting," VioletBlood assured in a tone that was only slightly sinister.
"Without us changing first?" I felt a bit self conscious. Our clothes did not stand out with the early evening crowds, except inasmuch that few military uniforms were this frilly. I felt more like my brief time working for Luddy's cafe.
"Oh, these uniforms are fine." The baroness waved my concerns away as we crossed the street and came to a winding street that was just full of entertainments.
Bright signs made out of fluorescing tubes started to buzz on as we were led to an area full of beer gardens, coffee houses, bath houses, wine bars, massage cloisters and dance halls. "And where are we going?"
Pouting, VioletBlood sighed and gestured to one of the humbler wine bars. Like the other places there was outdoor street-side seating and a whole terraced garden. There were a few squat fire pots set up with fragrant smoke puffing out their chimneys.
Unlike the neon signage of its neighbors this place had a simple carved wooden sign. However, above the sign was a giant garishly-painted wooden lemon.
"The Oily Lemon?" I stopped by the open entrance gate. Caved below the wine bar's name was the establishment's slogan: Come down and have a squeeze.
"You'll have fun!"
"Where did you hear of this place?" I stepped aside to let a couple in Fleet uniforms with two Auxilia companions enter. My tail stilled as they looked us over. The Oily Lemon was vaguely familiar.
"Oh, around. Don't worry about it." Somehow, VioletBlood's base reassurance failed to soothe my curiosity, in fact, all it did was give me cause to wonder if I should be worried.
"We just came from a function with full refreshments," I said, speaking slowly in case I had missed something, "and you want us to go to a bar?"
VioletBlood shook her head at me. "We're not here for that, but we did just come from a rather... stressful lesson."
"Ah," I said, understanding dawning, "you want us to unwind."
"Something like that," my baroness said, pulling me into the Oily Lemon.
Despite the rather short yellow uniforms of the wait-staff, the wine bar was fairly cozy. There were awnings over most of the tables that helped keep out the chill and the central room had a small band tuning their string instruments.
Imperious as ever, VioletBlood chatted up the hostess and then went straight to one of the back patios. It was an intimate nook with several low couches surrounding a pair of tables that looked over a small garden; several nearby nooks were also angled to give the same view.
The tables were already occupied. I stopped when VioletBlood pulled back the curtain. The surprise was muted but the cadets, my cadets, froze. Ah, this must be the wine bar my cadets frequented. By the count of bottles, at least they were not drinking to excess. And there were only a couple meerschaum pipes and a small amber dropper-bottle of Pixie.
"Primus Centurion! It's a pleasure to see you!" Pulivia stammered while Lavish pulled herself up and adjusted her blouse. SkySpear and some of the other cadets chuckled, though I noticed a pair in the back also scooted apart so that they were no longer leaning on each other, and the cadet closest to the table scooped the accoutrement off the table and into her bag.
Politely, I looked to one side. VioletBlood smiled at the cadet's actions and gave an almost approving murmur at the labels on the various bottles. The girls were off duty, and nothing they were using was proscribed for Legionaries. And for the amorous behavior, I had no place to talk and the Legions were... generous with the fraternization rules. Besides, some minor public displays of affection were extremely tame by our standards.
VioletBlood gave me an eager look.
"At ease girls." I waved off. "We were just coming here after a meeting to unwind."
Evaluating our uniforms, Lavish gave me a calculating look. She suspected it had to be a rather high status meeting, to warrant such fripperies.
The Baroness's tail swished as her green eyes sparkled. Realization hit and I shot her a glare and was even about to wave my hand to cut her off. "And we have some excellent news."
"Has your promotion gone through, Ma'am?" SkySpear asked.
VioletBlood simply gave me a smug look. "Maybe I should get some more appetizers?" she asked, stepping back into the hallway to flag down a waitress.
I sighed. "Yes. It's unofficial, but it will come through. Don't worry, this should be after your training has completed. I won't be leaving you in a lurch," I promised.
"That's not the best part," VioletBlood smiled, back after placing a rather generous order.
"And that is?" Lavish RoseTalon inquired, having quickly regained her decorum.
I looked around the girls, about half of my cadet squadron was here. "There will be some slots in my squadron."
"Of course, but why..." Pulivia's eyes widened.
"That's right!" VioletBlood's smile was all teeth.
"What will the Squadron's composition be?" one of the erstwhile cuddlers in the back asked.
VioletBlood sniffed as if that answered it.
"We're not Polyxo qualified," SkySpear noted.
"The bar will be set high, and your training tempo will increase," I stated, tone adamantine.
"And that's why I figured we can all relax tonight!" VioletBlood cheered.
End Chapter 20
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
Special thanks to Readhead for the polish and extra editing, particularly with Samoth's part.
And ch21 is about 3k written, so I can confidently say that the "capital arc" is over and Prefect Centurion Tauria will be taking her Squadron to the off-world colonies.
Set in the Diyu Demons verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 20: War by Other Means
Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor's amber eyes burned with hate and mirth. I could understand why she loathed me. Yes, her older sister was a monster who had planned to kidnap, break, brainwash, and twist me into her daughter. But to Samoth, all of that was irrelevant; War Mistress Zaphania Rodswor had been her sister, and I had killed her.
And I not only had I killed Zaphania, but I had done so in a way that left very little of the War Mistress to repatriate back to House Ziox. Yes, I could understand Samoth's emotions, but I had little patience for them. I was here because Samoth had asked me to meet with her. For both our sakes, I hoped she had asked me here for an actual reason instead of just a way to further sharpen her grudge.
"What do you have?" I asked, repeating my question. We were in the back portico of the Diyu Continental. The hotel was serving as the venue for negotiations between the minor Houses of Crocelli and Vualia. She was smartly dressed in charcoal grey and black where I, due to the unfortunate timing of Samoth's invitation, was still wearing my formal habit of a novitiate Sister of Our Hallowed Lady, donned for a prior engagement.
Samoth glanced back at the hotel and sighed. Her own Zephyr refreshed the little bronze tuning fork in its carved stand and the buzzing privacy field renewed. "It's something I learned before I found my latest client. It is, in fact, why myself, my pilots, and our support staff went to House Vualia."
"And now you're their military attaché."
She glared. "I'm only here because Queen Vualia wants to needle both your House for strong-arming her into these negotiations and House Crocelli by seating one of their enemies across the table from them."
"You didn't have to work for House Vualia," I shrugged.
Her tail flicked. "I was getting to that, Countess." It was only a momentary slip in her composure, but her ire, polished smooth, was blatant. She had grown far too comfortable wearing her emotions on her sleeve as a mercenary in the field. Her diplomatic skills had clearly suffered as a result..
I shifted in my seat, suddenly, self-conscious of my wildly inappropriate habit. Sitting across from an enemy dressed as a novitiate sister was so awkward; worse the rougher fabric of the garment of my order kept distracting me from Samoth. At least, I told myself, I was not wearing some poofy sequined and ruffled gown to palaver with the enemy. That would have been a true embarrassment.
"Why are you even offering this information you've gleaned?" I asked, eager to swat the conversational ball back into her court. "As far as I understand it, most mercenaries wait until they get paid before turning their coats."
Credit to Samoth, she wasn't quite that easily drawn. Despite me giving her an amble opening for a retort, given my mother's vocation, perhaps it was too obvious. "Who else stands up to House Elena?"
"House Irkella," I replied, "one of your staunchest allies, if memory serves."
She smiled. "Allies." She tasted the air. "You don't really understand the triumvirate of Ziox, Trosier, and Irkella do you?"
"Three Great Houses of moderate power banding together to offset the hegemonic blocks formed by the larger Great houses," I stated.
"Ah, that noble officer education," Samoth replied with unlovely relish.
"The War College really suits you, Countess."
"Fine," I folded my hands before me. If this was an exam then I would give her a proper answer, "Irkella has lived in fear of Zioxan raiders for many years. If not for the fact that most of border between your two Houses coincides with the highest mountain range in Diyu, they would be the victims of your House's aggression, instead of Luxon or Andromache.
"After the last Great House War, Luxon's star was ascendant. They were no longer the 'Sick Woman of Diyu'; they had gone from being on opposing sides with Elena in that war to a budding alliance with them."
"My older sister fought in that war, you know," Samoth noted bitterly, "She told me stories when I was growing up. She did... much to help Mother raise us."
"My condolences," I stated, the words flat and meaningless in my mouth. Try as I might, which I hadn't, I still couldn't find it in me to care that Zaphania was dead. If anything, I cared more that Samoth had to be raised by the her older sister, but even that was more academic abstraction.
"Oh, how little you know," Samoth chided as she sipped her tea.
An alliance between the largest and third-largest powers was natural. It's not like Elena had any interest in fighting Luxon even then. And then they could gang up to stop BlackSky. Which made Luxon stronger, and Andromachin diplomacy was working on all three of the biggest Great Houses.
"A strong Luxon and a protected Andromache put Irkella in quite the bind."
Samoth smiled. "It did?"
I sighed. "Is this an evaluation? I know how these tricks go."
"Yes, I've heard the rumors about your cadet squadron," Samoth said dismissively, "It's not my people's way of breaking privileged brats into something useful, but... well, if it works for you, then by all means, keep it up."
"Yes," I agreed, ignoring the barb, "I think we will. I have, after all, seen your Second Assault Infiltration Wing's alumni."
Samoth glowered.
"Your failure to secure a command slot in that Wing wasn't the only reason you went mercenary, Kapten Rodswor," I calmly stated, "So kindly cease the farce. But back to the history lesson. Yes, Irkella had a choice of making concessions to House Ziox then or being forced to make even larger concessions later. They were already on good enough terms with Trosier so joining into an alliance was their best option."
"So cold, so clinical, so BlackSkyvian," Samoth teased.
"And you flip between the vendetta-obsessed raider and the cynical, realpolitik sell-sword," I noted, running my finger along the lip of the empty cup sitting in front of me. "Does neither mask suit you? How unfortunate."
Her laugh almost felt genuine. "And now we go back to Elena." She idly adjusted her cup. "I have information. Information that is already being given to House Irkella, but... let us be honest. Who is more likely to use it?"
"That depends on what you have," I pointed out, reserving judgment. "Why me?"
Her eyes glinted. "Because, Countess, this is what your family does. Or did you forget what your mother had arranged to acquire two years back, south of Narvos?"
"A Zioxan officer's notes on the Trosic Armada," I said, filling in the blank with an answer we both already knew. "Supposedly a fairly detailed collection, taken while the officer in question observed several war-games and joint training missions."
"Ah, so you never got to read them?" Samoth shook her head. "You people and your secrets." Her tail flicked back into her lap. "Well, what if I were to tell you that Elena was making overtures to House Trosier? They are trade partners; they could be more."
I leaned back. "That would be very interesting to House Alecto."
Samoth sighed. "Yes, Countess. I'll be sure to do the obvious and exchange information with them as well. Please pretend you're the genius all the cloying cinema shorts make you out to be."
That was an easy ask; less dancing around would only bring this running sore of a conversation to a quicker end. "You have information from a Trosic officer about Elenese military capability?"
"There," Samoth smiled, pleased with herself, "was that so hard?"
"You could have just asked to talk to a BlackSkyvian agent directly." The observation was matter-of-fact, for all that the personal element here was obvious.
Samoth stared at me from across the table, something almost like confusion in her eyes for a quick moment. "You are a BlackSkyvian agent," she said, speaking slowly as if wary for some conversational tripwire. "You are a Primus Centurion and a noble who earned her fief by blood. Such things don't count in Ziox, but I know how the game is played here. Your family is exactly the type of go-between for such negotiations. And do I even have to point out how you're dressed? Or the earrings you bear? Quite the statement of the morals of one of your House's official cults."
My tail stilled. She was not... wrong about my Duchess. She was a reserve officer in the Legions. She also had her own mercenary company that had done more than a few questionable jobs, but despite that still had very good standing among the Guilds.
That made it more of a mockery that I was dressed as a novitiate nun. I really should have changed before attending a meeting with a foreign officer, but frankly, that was Samoth's problem. I had just been at an event at the Cathedral with my mother, Clementia. This whole meeting was an unexpected and unwelcome diversion, and I had almost literally been grabbed off the street by her messenger and by Librarian Evadne. Still, I had my duties and would discharge them to the height of my abilities. "Do you need a name?" I asked, "or perhaps a letter of introduction?"
Those amber eyes fixed upon me. "That is the minimum you could offer, yes. You could choose to throw away any leverage on your part, and any considerations your mother Duchess SilverFlight might earn. Do you really hate me so enough to squander such a potential coup as personally securing a new intelligence source?"
"I don't hate you," I replied, speaking with complete honesty. "I hated your sister. I loathed her for what she did to people I cared about, the lives she ruined, the things she forced me to do. And despite all the hassle, praise, and headache it brought me, I don't regret killing her." Behind my gauzy veil, I gave a little smile. "But you? You're just another enemy Pilot."
Samoth's wings twitched.
"No, you're not merely another Pilot," I said, smiling at my enemy. "You did survive your encounter with the 5th Squadron of the 156th Infantry Legion's Beta Wing over the Crocelli jungles. Not many can make that claim. Indeed, not many of your Pilots can make that claim. How many squadrons did you lose? I congratulate you for your skills as a survivor, they must be considerable."
She folded her hands in her lap, but I could see the tips of her claws extending just a bit before she regained her control.
"Speaking of House Elena," I continued, pitching my tone towards affected idleness, "do you know Pukovnik Emilia Armin? She commands one of their Vanguard Strike units. She managed to face me in the skies without losing a single pilot. Imagine that!"
Samoth twitched again.
"I have heard of her," she admitted. "Most Houses do not have such... expansive Ritual Plate formations. With them, it is easy to keep up to date on officers of note. On some level, that is why your House makes a public spectacle of certain fliers." Samoth's wings twitched and she briefly made a bitter expression. "But in your case, your reputation is not entirely unearned. And I do mean your actual reputation, not the ones perpetuated in theater, broadsheets, and cinema. Your jungle exploits alone show a marked divergence between reality and glamour."
I almost smiled at her. We had both suffered in the sweltering green hell that was House Crocelli's interior. "And thank you for not using that nickname."
"Ah, the Jungle Fox," Samoth laughed. "I can see how you could get such a moniker, given the poor bedraggled vulpine creatures." She tapped the fork again. "But no one actually called you that when you were stationed there?"
"That's correct."
Samoth gave a weary sigh as she gestured to the golden Zioxan pin that denoted her ownership of a mercenary company. "I'll admit that it would be a nice feather in my headdress if I could have killed you over there. 'Little sister makes good on vengeance. With the right melody that could have sold well back home in Troya."
"And unlike your sister," I added. "if you had managed to take me over Crocelli, it would have been while I was armed and armored. A far more glorious affair than trying to ambush a child cadet in an unarmed suit."
"There's no glory in war, period," the Kapten snorted. "Though taking you... and making you into one of us... Just think of the things you could have done in our name."
"I'd rather not," I replied, somehow managing not to shiver. My mother Duchess would have been quite upset if I had been taken, and she had the resources and connections to make her displeasure known. There was also the little fact that such a capture was a gross violation of the two-party agreements almost all of the Great Houses had with each other over the treatment of prisoners of war.
"No use pondering what-ifs," Samoth continued briskly, "And I can't say that I fully agree with my late sister's course of actions, although, I can easily understand the temptation that entered her mind. One temptation among many, I suppose."
"The one that lead to her undoing," I pointed out. As far as threats went, or perhaps warnings, it was decidedly unsubtle.
"We are creatures of temptation. What counts is how we manage those urges." Samoth waved dismissively, before leaning forwards, slightly, clasping her hands on the table. "Now, Countess, what would information on the capabilities of the only one of your House's many rivals that is larger and more powerful than your wretched House be worth?"
"That all depends on the quality and quantity of your information," I replied uncommitally. "For detailed and actionable intelligence, well..."
Her amber eyes glinted. I had not refused her. I had not passed her off to someone else. It was time to haggle.
"First confession: I offer little data on the Volos," Samoth began, hopefully revealing her least valuable card first. "You must understand that your recent adventure was the first large-scale deployment of that platform, at least one that other Houses were able to scry on." A mix of jealousy and approval crossed her face. "Second, a lot of the data is more on their fixed wing systems: Yaryla recon birds, Kupala bombers, Semik heavy transports, and the like."
"I won't turn my nose up," I assured her, entirely willing to buy those goods. I might have preferred data on Ritual Plate, but that was my personal desire, and in this I was acting in my House's interest. "That said, if your source has naval and ground asset intel, I would be happy to see associates are willing to trade for it."
Her smile was all fangs. "Third, there has been some subtle, but key investment made in their RP and fixed-wing maintenance and robustness, efforts to design parts and spares last longer and the like. It's not enough to give their flight armor parity with your designs of course, but could pay dividends in the next several years. Alas, much of that information is solely from inference, based on improvements the Trosic observers noted relative to previous Elenese demonstrations."
"And doubtless that information has already winged its way home to your Dictatrix," I noted. Most Zioxan Ritual Plate work had originated from Trosic designs and joint-House projects, which, while robust, were rarely the most efficient.
Samoth gave me a patient, meaningful look.
"I'll need an initial proof before I commit to any payment plans," I said, unswayed by the unspoken message. "Payment upon delivery, Kapten, not before."
"Darn, I'd hoped I could cozen a Harmonia off you on the strength of a promised dossier alone. Even an older mark would be useful." Samoth's tone was deadpan but her amber eyes glinted with amusement.
I stared at her, not deigning to validate her foolishness with a reply. I was here for business, not for a clown show.
"Fine, fine. No need to get stroppy. I'm not optimistic enough to think I'd get anything from MuArc Amalgamated." Samoth reached into her coat, pulled out a grey envelope, and tossed it onto the table. "But, here. Proof of my intentions for the skeptical BlackSkyvian."
I looked down at the envelope for a moment. It was a normal letter parcel, albeit a bit on the thicker side than typical. Using my thumbclaw, I cut the end off the envelope and shook the contents out. Those contents consisted of a pile of documents, and on a cursory glance I could see an outline, a handful of essays, some photographs, tables, diagrams, and a number of abstracts.
"I'm amazed you managed to fit all of that into a single envelope," I mutters as I quickly shifted through eh first few pages. "That weight of paper would require additional postage, surely."
Samoth sipped her tea and made no comment as I read the observations of a Capitaine de Fragata in the Trosic Armada's Aviation Branch. Despite her rank's title, this Capitaine did not command a frigate. Instead, she was a Hangar Operations officer, roughly equivalent to a BlackSkyvian Trierarch, reporting directly to her carrier's commander.
The report documented improvements the Trosic officer had seen to the maintenance systems she oversaw part of her observing Elenese training missions and a tour of one of their carrier's hangars. Her notes were couched with various disclaimers about how this improvement or that change could have been part of some vast and elaborate fabrication, which indicated either paranoia or indecisiveness on the part of the report's author, but the changes noted weren't particularly drastic, nor was the resulting jump in operational tempo unreasonable. It read like a series of incremental improvements that were borne of experience. Ones that the officer wanted the Trosic Armada to implement. In particular, the report emphasized a series of updates in changing layouts of maintenance bays to allow for more efficient workflow and greater safety. The package even included diagrams of the old Elenese Navy maintenance bay layout, their new layout, and proposed revisions for the Trosic Armada.
I gave a little sigh, and paged through the other notes and read the abstracts. If everything Samoth offered was as good, or as she implied, better, than this sample, then she was offering up and entire trove of unglamorous but rather useful information.
Kapten Rodswor put her cup back on the saucer with a clink of china. "You seem displeased."
Picking up the pages I shuffled them back into a neat pile. "I am no expert, but this seems genuine enough. You'll have to allow me to hand this sample over to my associates for verification."
"That's what they're there for," Samoth replied, dismissively waving her hand. "Once they are verified, and we come to a deal, then we can do the tedious dance where I reveal where I stored the full reports and you tell me where my remuneration can be picked up."
I tilted my head. "You want your payment tendered by hand? Why not use an Irkellan bank? That House is allied with yours and neutral to us. My associates can deposit your payment with instructions that it be held in escrow, to be released to your designated agent once the files are handed over."
Samoth adjusted her teacup. "Very sensible. And both our families have the clout to get the Providence Bank of Nekhen to play along. But that covers only part of what I want."
"Oh?" I kept my tone very mild. What crazy thing would she demand from me? And would the BlackSkyivan intelligence services make demands of me.
"Don't get such a sour face," Samoth chided mockingly, shaking her head in answer to the implied question. "If I wanted to make this some personal vengeance kick, I'd lead with throwing a glove before you, snapping a dagger, or whatever tediousness was required. No, I'm looking for standard enchantments, tooling, fuel cells, and some ancillary components."
I chuckled. "Not finding good supplies in House Vualia? Or is your logistics connection to your homeland that tenuous?"
Samoth tried to shrug it off as she pulled out another envelope, but as I had noticed earlier, she was quiet ineffectual at hiding her emotions. I turned my attention away from my contact and focused on her second envelope. This one was much thinner than its predecessor and was gently placed in front of me.
Cutting the side, I quickly pulled out and scanned the inventory. "I can get you Alecton export equivalents for all of these," I murmured after a few seconds, folding my hands. "Anything past that is beyond my ability or desire to guarantee."
"Mercantile Aviation exports the power distribution systems I'm asking for to many Great Houses, including House Alecto," Samoth objected. "There is nothing on that list that could endanger your arcane edge."
I smiled. "That you think these components would fit in your remaining Tjardu, if I had to guess, is illustrative that they are known to you. It's the principle of the thing."
"Does sending it via a proxy really make it morally palatable?" Samoth muttered mutinously, though the undercurrent of resignation rang clearly in my ears.
"Of course not," I replied, humoring myself by treating her question as if it has been an actual, instead of rhetorical, inquiry. "Legally, it makes it far easier. House Alecto will sell to nearly anyone. And that way, I don't have to worry about exporting military components out of House BlackSky."
"How efficient of you." Her tone was desert-dry, to my great amusement. Lecturing a sellsword, who doubtless had a wealth of experience in negotiating questionably sourced parts and munitions about the diplomatic intricacies of military equipment transfers was in itself a veiled insult, a subtle way of talking down to her in a way I could easily play off as an earnest explanation. I suppose some of the Academy's tutelage had paid off. A petty dig, but her sister had tried to force herself upon me.
"And with these," I said, continuing to explain things to Samoth that I knew she already understood. "I'd recommend going with an Alecton bank for the funds transfer. That way your agents can just go to Meropis Island and pick up your money and the crates."
I affected a casual shrug as the ending note for my explanation, calculated to emphasize my youthful enthusiasm as a means of mitigating the offense. Samoth had not insulted me by asking for weapons emitters, scrying arrays, ward projectors, communications systems or anything truly sensitive. But she was asking for enough generic spares, conduits, tooling, and fuel cell systems to keep a multi squadron RP formation in operation for months in exchange for bread and butter information. I had not qualms about rubbing her nose in my position of superior power, especially after she'd spoiled the good mood I had enjoyed after meeting with my mother.
"All conveniently located right by House Vualia." Samoth made a contented noise. Surprisingly, her contented sounded sincere. I scaled my impression of her diplomatic acuity down a further few points; she had mistaken my insult for a helpful explanation. That, or she was deliberately winding me up. Or she was sounding me out for... something. "It is such a pleasure to see that you are a reasonable woman, Countess."
"We haven't even negotiated the currency part of it." That was the other half. She was already picking up parts from House Alecto; with an account newly flush with cash, she could purchase whatever else she needed, including any parts or supplies that BlackSky would be leery of handing over to an "independent contractor". However, the mercantile house did have a considerable markup on non-Alecton affiliated mercenary companies. Not to mention that modularity only went so far and a lot of the offensive, defensive, and sensory systems were often House specific. That just meant she had far less that needed to be shipped in from her homeland to keep her Pilots operational.
"I put my fee at the bottom, conveniently in your own Aurei. Perhaps I should have requested it in Alecton Guilders," Samoth said.
My eyes darted down to the bottom of the inventory, and I shook my head at the neatly written figure. "That's far too high. You could purchase an RP Flight for that."
"Not in Guilders, not with Alecton's rates," Samoth sipped her tea. "Besides, you know this information could easily pay for itself."
I tapped the table. "Half."
"You didn't balk at the parts I requested. And that lot's worth half of what I'm asking for."
"I demanded they be replaced with Alecton wares, and you agreed."
"Three quarters," Samoth's tone was hard. She had begun to reach the edges of her bargaining margin, apparently.
I flicked my tail. "The validity of your information needs to be verified. You're not getting anything until that happens. But judging the outline, you're massively over-valuing what you have on offer."
"What do you care, Countess? It's not like the money is coming out of your pocket." She flicked her privacy generation fork just a bit too ahrd, petulant annoyance writ across her face.
"I could say I want to avoid wasting my Imperatrix's funds," I mused, my tone dispassionate, "but we both know this is a test. You expected about equal amounts in currency and components. You've already agreed to your price-point in components, showing your hand. So, will you kindly cease screwing around and accept sixty percent of your original asking price converted from Aurei into Alecton Guilders."
Samoth's cold grin returned, not an ounce of joy or even feigned friendless present in her amber eyes. That her emotions were suddenly so closed off made me wonder how many of her previous outbursts and tells were feigned. "Fine, sixty percent of my initial bid. Can you blame me? I was curious about you." She leaned back, sipping at her tea a she glared over the rim of her cup.
"You'll be at the Continental for the rest of the diplomatic negotiations?" I asked, rising from my chair as I collected the papers and put them back in their envelopes. My dress had a couple hidden pockets that would have to suffice in lieu of a purse for the short trip back to the waiting Librarian.
"Leaving so soon?"
"As pleasant as it was to finally meet, face to face, I do have other appointments." If I hurried, and the debrief was not too long, I might not be late for the meeting with my Logistics instructor.
"Yes, I remember my days at Officer's school. Hopefully next time we meet it will continue to be... civilized, Primus Centurion Countess." Samoth flashed her teeth.
"Company-Kapten Rodswor." Standing, I gave a slight bow of my horns. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Samoth grabbed the tuning fork, terminating the privacy field.
I spun on my heel and stalked off. I had to reenter through the rear entrance of the hotel and then navigate back through the various security checks, but soon I was out on the front entrance.
An orange-haired woman with prim gold-framed glasses and a sober black suit sidled up to me. Her magenta features were open and amused. "I do apologize for the imposition," Palace Librarian Evande said, almost sincerely.
I handed the two envelopes over. "Samoth says she has information taken from a Trossic officer about House Elena's capabilities. It appears thorough, and the sample she provided seems genuine, but I'm not an expert," I said as we walked to the sidewalk and waited to cross.
Evande slipped the thicker envelope into her jacket pocket. "And the cost?" she asked once we were in the park across from the hotel.
As we moved toward the funicular station, I glanced at the remaining envelope. "I negotiated her down to sixty percent of the requested fee, transferred via an Alecton bank, and instead of BlackSkyvian manufacture all the requested components and tools are to be Alecton export models."
Balancing the envelope, the librarian made a murmur. "Both the goods and the bank transfer on Meropis Island?"
"If it turns out to be valid," I emphasized. If the Imperatrix's agents objected to the terms of the deal, or the quality of the intel then they could just claim they suspected it to be a forgery. The station was getting closer. I wondered where she would take me for the debriefing.
"Much depends on the veracity of the sample, but thank you for your assistance," Evande said, putting away the other envelope and retrieving a slim cigar from some inner pocket of her jaket. "We'll be in touch for the arrangements and follow up."
"I might need to get my mother's authorization to make those purchases and set up the escrow account," I admitted as we stopped at the steps that would lead up to the station.
Cutting the end of her cigar, Evande waved it off. "Duchess Tribune SilverFlight is familiar with the procedures. Consider it a bonding experience."
"And if Samoth rips us off?"
The Librarian lit her cigar. "Then your mother can teach you how to deal with that part of the business as well. Have a good afternoon, Countess."
And with that she turned and walked down a wooded path and vanished into the wooded glen. I stood for a moment in the late autumn air but when the Librarian did not return, I sighed and went up the stairs. At least I wouldn't be late for my meeting.
++++++++++
Tribune ShadowWhisper authoritatively clicked her pocket watch open. The lecture hall was deadly quiet as she peered down at the dial. "You have five minutes remaining."
I glanced up at the projection behind me that asked if there were any questions. My eyes returned to the pale Household Fleet officer. Her white uniform, short silvery hair, and ivory wings gave her an ethereal look: framed against the darkened and empty lecture hall behind her, she looked positively wraith-like, a solitary ghost in the front row.
"That's good," I said, dragging my mind back to the business at hand. "There's always some delay in the setup process, so a little breathing room is welcome. Besides what if one of the reviewers on my defense board shows up late?"
Organizing her notes, the Tribune's tail flicked as she stood. "I suppose that's fair. And it's better to be a bit under than to run over time, of course."
My own tail stilled as I tried to get a covert view of her comments. It was a silly impulse, as she was going to hand them over to me in a moment, but the urge to suss out any scrap of intelligence that could improve my performance was not to be denied This rehearsal was a great opportunity to get a fresh set of eyes on my thesis, and I needed her honest input as soon as possible so I could get to work of honing my presentation once more.
"And you covered all your topics satisfactorily enough," the older allowed giving me a stony look before a smile touched her face. "Well done, Primus Centurion. Please take that praise in context when we go over these," she said as she handed a sheaf of pages full of notes.
Despite her assurances, my tail drooped as I quickly scanned her comments, of which there were plenty. There were suggestions for just about every transparency slide I had made for my presentation, not to mention a corresponding amount of red ink on the accompanying manuscript of my thesis.
"Well, I haven't printed the review copies yet," I admitted as I went over the notes.
ShadowWhisper waved her hand. "It's nothing substantive to your conclusions, calculations, or observations. Most of the notes are in regards of formatting issues, presentation corrections, and ideas on how to make your graphs more concise. Most of them are good, but a few could be trimmed." She went to the binder next to the brass and duralumin projector that squatted on its steel cart and flipped to a slide near the middle part of the presentation. "Take this slide, where you project Elenese production numbers based on publicly available imagery."
"Yes, there are some limitations. House Elena obviously tries to keep their sensitive facilities away from civilian air travel lanes where anyone can look out a window. And even then a lot of things can be hidden inside hangars, especially small platforms like Ritual Plate. Though that's just the obvious parts. A factory might conceal their output but they'll have a harder time with their input.
"And then critical molds, dies, and other expensive components may be obfuscated but supplies of filament, etching compounds, basic tooling, power draw, maintenance parts, piping, wiring, all of that is a lot harder to completely conceal," I said getting back into the familiar flow. "Even watching parking lots and rail stations to see how many people are working late, extra shifts, and how many are staying in for lunch or even taking dinners..." Shaking my head I managed to stop before I got too far.
ShadowWhisper's smile was indulgent. "You explain it well, and you clearly know the information. And your methodology and calculations are fine. However," she gestured to the slide, "it's a bit busy. And there's far too many words. Most of your presentation is concise. Normally, it takes a Fleet officer several more grades before she realizes that she's not paid by the word. Maybe the Legionaries are less likely to suffer from logorrhea."
"Eloquence and literacy are of great value in the Imperial Legions, Ma'am," I stated.
"A reduced supply tends to do that," the Logistics officer laughed. "Still, I think that slide could use some clearing up. You explained the process elsewhere so you can pare the graphics down to the critical parts."
I gave a slow nod. I was rather proud of that flowchart and the supporting test explaining the methodology. Still needs must when demons, or succubae at least, drive...
"Don't pout," ShadowWhisper chided. "Your chart works just fine within the dissertation itself, it's just too much for he presentation."
"I do appreciate all the time you put into this," I stated as I went through her notes and the copy of the manuscript full of her corrections. It was not as bad as the first impression. Though every mistake did make me wince. "Better to find weakness and mistakes now," I admitted.
She waved it off. "There's nothing that would kill your defense here. But I think your thesis has value more than proving your own skills. This information on Elena's industrial and supply capabilities, and more importantly the way you acquired the data and came to these conclusions should be kept as a reference."
"It's nothing groundbreaking," I admitted. I was still dealing with the fallout of the "groundbreaking" intel breakthrough that had fallen into my lap a month ago. My mother had helped set up the transfer with various Alecton facilitators and Kapten Samoth Rodswor had surprisingly proven true to her word. Which was good for all involved, especially as her little mercenary company was now flush with funds and parts for the next quarter-year at least.
"No, it's not." Her flat reply did hurt a bit. "But no one is expecting that from you."
I tilted my head slightly as my tail flicked. Disbelief radiated off of me, but since I did not say anything nor did I even give a skeptical expression, I was not technically being insubordinate.
"Fair. You might be under such high expectations." ShadowWhisper gave a sympathetic look. "But there is nothing to be ashamed of grounded, evolutionary work. Most of the time it's far more practical and reliable anyway."
"I'm trying to get my cadets to learn that," I grumbled.
"Youth and inexperience," she amended, "bring about that folly."
I nodded. The Tribune was polite about it, but my age was still noteworthy. At least it was not as blatant as my previous life.
"I did hear their last training mission went well, especially after...."
"Despite the Elenese incursion, the cadet squadrons' training mission over the Adria Testing Range was more than adequate. They performed sufficiently in their first live-fire exercise." That none of them tried to sneak off and fly to my rescue was good. A gaggle of bloody-minded cadets would have utterly wrecked things.
"And their most recent exercise?"
"Last week was a simulated ground support mission."
"Ah, I trust you found the most... pastoral and provincial hoof-sloggers to direct their fire?" Her eyes glinted. She was Fleet so she fully understood the conflict that could arise when common infantry dared to speak up to those of higher station, or at least higher altitude.
I showed my teeth. "A few Legionaries fresh in from the colonies and some Auxilia. A Forest Person I know was in the area; he was willing to do me a favor."
ShadowWhisper shook her head in amusement. "Please tell me that your fops weren't so sensitive that a male voice coming over the comm gave them palpitations?"
"Only after he started yelling at them," I said, trying and failing to keep the note of cheer out of my voice. "Lares has quite the set of lungs."
ShadowWhisper shook her head. "It's good to see you caring for your girls."
I looked up from the corrections. "Someone needs to get them to shape up into real Legion Fliers before they get into a combat slot and get people killed."
The pale logistics officer smiled. "Word is after you're through with them normal Flight School will be a breeze."
"Then I'll have done my job." I bowed my horns and continued to study the notes. "Interesting, you want me to move up my talk about estimating production of Elenese scrying systems to before the portion about the size of their training programs for Ritualista."
"It seemed to have a better flow as you use the maintainer availability to support the production numbers," she said, shrugging her wings.
"That's fair," I admitted, making some notes of my own. I would not be surprised if a Librarian attended my thesis defense, both to see if there was anything novel in my conclusions and to make sure I was not using anything classified in an academic paper. While this report was not exactly a House secret, it was guaranteed to have a restricted distribution as it was.
"I wonder..." ShadowWhisper glanced at me. "Have you been thinking about your next assignment?"
My tail slowed. I would have preferred to spend another year or even two more semesters at the War College, but the needs of the House were what they are.
"I have my suspicions," I allowed with more hesitancy than I had expected in my voice. DarkStar's blood, I was more worried about being in charge of a mere squadron than I had been about attending Advanced Evasion School. I commanded the 203rd Mage Battalion and then Salamander Kampfgruppe. A dozen Legion Fliers should be nothing. But it was a start. My future loomed before me, and I knew where this path would lead.
"Should I congratulate you on a squadron command?" ShadowWhisper asked.
"Congratulate Tribune Quirinus first," I replied with a shrug trying to contain my emotions.
"Oh?" She replied, her tail quirking up. "Artemis finally got it?"
I was not sure "finally" was the right word. The Imperial Legions had only about a hundred Volantes Tribunes. Quirinus was now in a rather exclusive group of Demi-Wing and Wing commanders; admittedly, it was a club she entirely deserved to be in. ShadowWhisper was Fleet, and the Household Fleet did had more Ritual Plate Pilots, so maybe she considered it less of an honor. "She has been very busy, and still hasn't been assigned her unit yet."
"Good for her. I'll have to write her a note." She peered at me. "What's wrong?"
I paused and... decided to go with an excuse that was not exactly a lie. "Still thinking about the Advanced Evasion School I completed about two weeks ago."
"Ah." I could feel her sympathy.
"I passed," I assured her. "While grueling, it just required enduring everything the instructors threw at me."
ShadowWhisper raised an eyebrow.
"Fine, a few of the scenarios, including escaping from a Spatha fuselage they crashed into a massive outdoor pool and making it to the forest were... trying. And the counter interrogation module..." My tail stilled at that. For someone looking to get information via discomfort, duress, deception, and other euphemisms, being an empath was... quite the advantage. "I passed that as well."
"Oh? Some officers have trouble with the telepathy resistance training."
"I um... knew the instructor." Thankfully it was not Librarian Evadne. Working with her on Samoth's exchange was bad enough. Though that did mean I was in deeper with Mira Heartwood. As terrifying as being around a telepath was, at least the experience was in the service of building up mental resistance. Even with that reassuring thought in mind, the paranoid part of me remained very concerned. "Still, it all would have been a lot more difficult, if not for the tutoring Reinhild, my maid, had given me. I really need to give her a bonus for all that."
"Ah," ShadowWhisper smiled. "That's her name."
"What?"
"Oh nothing," she breezily assured. "So, you'll get a squadron. You must be excited at filling out your roster."
"It has passed my mind," I stated in full honesty. It was more of an idle abstract consideration, as I did not know who would be made available to me. "Tribune Quirinus should be able to help, if all goes to plan-"
ShadowWhisper gave a light chuckle at that. The Fleet and the Legions tried to organize and plan for contingencies. This was especially true for officers with my irritatingly exalted reputation. A reputation I had neither sought out nor tired to build, but had earned entirely through unforeseen consequences to unfortunately necessary actions.
"If all goes to plan," I continued, "I'll command the multi-role Squadron in her Demi-Wing. Hopefully she can help me find some experienced Polyxo Pilots."
"Oh, not planning on taking in some of your students?" ShadowWhisper asked with all seeming sincerity.
Tail still, I stared at her. "It... depends. They're not rated for Polyxos yet, but in theory... If they have the talent... It that would require accelerating their qualifications and having them test out of Flight School, though," I tried to state without sounding too evasive, or horrified at the idea.
"Oh, DarkStar forbid. I'm not being serious." The Tribune laughed.
"They do have potential," I admitted. "And I wish them well on their military careers."
"Well put." ShadowWhisper glanced at her pocket watch. "Although..."
"Yes?"
"I would never suggest filling out an entire squadron with green pilots, but there may be some political aspects you should take into consideration. Ones that may require considering your applicants with care."
I sighed. "You are not entirely wrong there."
"It's the risk of being in one of the more glamorous specialties," she said with sympathy.
"Logistics is vital, Ma'am. What you do does more to win battles than anything I do," I assured her.
"Flatterer." ShadowWhisper studied me. "No, you truly believe that."
"It's the truth."
She smiled. "Perhaps, but not many young Imperial Heroine Ace of Aces would say that. Ah, your wingwoman is here."
"Tribune. Primus Centurion," Visha greeted us, saluting by baring her neck as she entered the lecture hall.
"At ease," ShadowWhisper said, returning the salute.
Giving a respectful nod, Visha then went to my side and started helping organize my papers.
"I'm not too late?" I asked, my tail slowing.
"There's plenty of time," Visha assured me with a broad smile.
"Oh," I said, turning off the projector.
"Busy day?" ShadowWhisper asked.
"I have to meet up with VioletBlood for some tutoring," I admitted.
Her tail swished. "Well, have fun," she purred.
Opening my valise, I tried not to flush.
"And make sure they stay out of trouble, Victorious," the Tribune added.
"I'll do my best," Visha smiled as she helped put away the various slides, notes, and copies of my thesis, "but there's only so much I can do. This tutoring is for just the Countess and the Baroness."
"Ah." ShadowWhisper bowed her horns. "Still, do what you can for them.
"I will," Visha assured.
"You don't need to worry about me." I very much did not pout as I did up the clasps on my leather valise, turning to glare at Visha once that task was accomplished.
Visha gave me a very patient smile before turning to the Tribune. "Thank you for helping her with her thesis, Ma'am."
"Oh, it's nothing. I'm happy to help a studious young Centurion with her work in the War College. And how are your classes going?"
"Very good," Visha assured.
"I think she'll make the grade for Primus without any difficulty," I said agreeing. The cadet squadron was a pain, but they were showing great progress, and they gave ample opportunity for Visha and VioletBlood to get practice in the role of Flight Leader. GreyDawn too for that matter, but she was not in the Primus Centurion track.
"Yes, that is good for you," ShadowWhisper said as the three of us started to walk out of the unused lecture hall.
"I don't want to disappoint," Visha said eagerly. Which, given all she had done for me in this life and the last, was quite a redundant sentiment. She had more than earned a nice easy life as a reward, but I knew she was too good, too loyal of a person to not help.
The Tribune smiled at us and, carrying her own purple valise, gave a slight bow of her horns before going down the hallway.
"That sounds very promising," Visha cheered as we went the other way towards a set of stairs.
"I suppose it is," I allowed as we went down to the ground level.
"Oh, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, just all the pressure from the projects," I stated. We were out in the crisp early winter air of the War College's New Quad. The name was a bit of a misnomer as the quadrangle was delineated by the extension of the library extension, extra lecture halls, and a dormitory the youngest of which had been constructed three centuries ago. While that might not be too old, at least by Silvan standards, the New Quad was not the newest of the open spaces on campus, making the misnomer even more notable.
The two of us were soon passing through the Fountain Quad, which was only half a century old. and thus the "actual new quad". And yes, the New Quad could have been renamed but by then the name was fixed in the collective consciousness of the War College. I looked at the drained-out fountain with the onyx obelisk in the center. It was another memorial to DarkStar; as far as monuments on that theme went, I quite liked it. I preferred the more subdued, abstract design, as opposed to the statuary with her looking mournful or wounded. I did bow to the silver symbols on the surfaces and felt a bit of warmth at the familiar ritual of obeisance.
Visha gave me a smile, her question unstated.
The companionable silence continued as we walked out through the War College's gates and down to the funicular station. The wait was minimal and soon we were in a car trundling down-slope to our transfer station and then we were on our way home. We didn't quite head straight back to the townhouse, making a few a brief detours to a butcher's shop and a bakery to pick up some odds and ends. Lilly, the head maid, had mentioned that a few of the ingredients for tonight's dinner had run perilously low in the larder, and I had volunteered to pick up the regular orders on my way back home.
Somewhere along the way, though the quiet between us ceased to be companionable and had grown oppressive, made moreso by the subdued chattering from the other passengers as we rode a second funicular away from the stretch of shops where the bakery stood. I took Visha's hand in mine as I conceded our little game, my will finally cracking. "Fine. I may have a bit of anxiety about our future."
"Ours?" My second's tone was coy but there was a bit of genuine concern there as well.
"No, not that!" I squeezed her hand. "Not personal, I mean professional."
Her tail snaked around behind me and over my hip, pulling me closer. "You're worried about Quirinus's new Demi-wing being like... the 203rd?" she lowered her voice at the last of it.
"For a start," I moved my hand from her hand and put it around her shoulder, "I trust Quirinus; I'd be happy staying one of her subordinates, as long as I can."
"Oh good!" Visha's cheer re-emerged as she returned the hug. "I thought you were worried about today's lessons with LoveBlood!"
++++++++++
Visha was right. Curse her smooth assurances! Crossing my arms, I huffed at my reflection.
"My lady, could you please lessen your squirming?" Reinhild SunShower gently asked.
"I am not squirming," I airily stated.
"You're flopping like a landed fish," VioletBlood smirked from where she leaned against the wall, clearly amused at my discomfort. "Do you want her to mess up your curls?" She wore a shiny confection of lace trim, poofy shoulders, pleated skirting, stockings, and bows. The outfit bore a passing resemblance to a legionary dress uniform, though a version heavily prettied up for the stage and screen. It was certainly gaudy enough for the latter.
"I don't want curls, period," I muttered. My reflection showed I was similarly dressed. Though somehow with even more gewgaws and fripperies. The hair pins and ribbons were oversized but at least were regulation-proper awards, and the DarkStar icons hung from my tail were proper if not quite my style. I honestly preferred my relic earrings and my locket, but I had gotten used to wearing my religion, or at least the one I was raised, practiced, and had a cultural affinity for, on my sleeve.
"You like mine well enough," VioletBlood smugly stated as she presented the tubular curls that framed her face.
It was impossible to decide weather I disliked my teased curls more or less than I despised tonight's outfit. I looked between my maid and my baroness. Despite the fact that I was shorter than the haughty noble, VioletBlood had more of her legs covered by than I did. As far as skirts went, this one as wholly unsatisfactory, and yet at some point my opinion had seemingly ceased to matter.
I suspected trickery on the part of the kitsune, but I had learned to not challenge the people who had access to your food. "Well, they look good on you, and I don't want to copy your style," I stated, attempting duplicity.
"You need not be concerned, my lady," Reinhild assured with a vulpine grin. "Your curls will fall elegantly behind you between your wings, assuming, that is if you stop squirming, and allow me to finish," she hissed the last word out and held the wand of her hair curler in a way that was nearly insubordinate.
"You wanted to look your best, did you not?" VioletBlood teased.
"If I wanted to look my best, I wouldn't be wearing this parody of a legion dress uniform," I sighed, letting Reinhild shape my hair.
"Ah, but these are regulation uniforms," VioletBlood sniffed, triumph gleaming in her eyes..
I glared at her. She was not wrong. "Only on a technicality."
"And petitioning by Aedile Felisia," VioletBlood said as if that settled things. Which it did. One of the Imperatrix's Daughters, Felisia was, along with Censor CloudFire, one of the chief advocates for BlackSkyvian culture.
As an Aedile, Felisia was responsible for the maintenance of public buildings, the regulation of public festivals, and various elements of Household rites and ceremonies. If she wanted the Imperial Legions to have a uniform with a frilly skirt, stockings, and lace cuffs then she would get that. Even if the uniform was a vestigial technicality that was almost never worn. And was worn by fewer Legionaries than the most extreme dress uniform, the one with extra brocade, plumes and gold braid.
"And Felisia just happens to be the patron of the Mima Lumina Academy," VioletBlood smirked. It was times like this that I was reminded that my baroness could be a bit insufferable.
"I think you're ready," Reinhild said, giving my hair a final brush as she adjusted my various bows, ornaments, and other gewgaws.
"Think positive thoughts! Our previous lesson tested our deportment, dancing and carousing, after all" VioletBlood purred, levering herself up from the wall.
"I sort of preferred those gowns. They were more honest," I admitted giving my reflection one last sour look before I forced my painted features into a warm and pleasant smile. Based on my kitsune's and my baroness's reactions I toned my expression down a bit. Given this was the midpoint of our curriculum, I was a bit surprised we were wearing something so... casual.
"I'll keep that in mind," VioletBlood said as she gallantly held out her arm. I took it and with a sigh let her take me out of the room.
Visha and GreyDawn looked up from the card table in the common room. Skilled gamblers both, their poker faces remained immaculately straight at the sight of us, betraying no sign of any reaction to our getups.
"Don't laugh," I said through gritted teeth, my tone almost saccharine enough to conceal the growl.
"Never crossed my mind, Ma'am," GreyDawn assured me dutifully.
"It's a shame your crown isn't ready," Visha noted, unapologetically cheerful.
My tail flicked. My Duchess's patience had run out and after assisting with the Samoth thing had taken me to a very unassuming and sober shop on the plaza across from the bridge that served as the Palace's main entrance. The goldsmiths and enchanters inside had not been the longest in the service of Imperatrix nor had they made the most ostentatious pieces, such as various Imperial crowns, scepters, ceremonial, and ritualistic weapons. Most of those grand pieces were made in-house as it were, by BlackSky's personal crafters.
On the other wing, the firm of Honestas and SaphireFiligree had made all of the above, often for the Imperial Family and other Household organizations. I tried to object to my mother about how much she was spending to commission my tiara from people who made wedding regalia for BlackSky's Daughters, refurbished the fittings of the highest of Relics, and formed many of the Imperatrix's everyday ornaments. It was an exempse entirely out of proportion to my lowly rank, Preserver Crown be damned.
"It is," VioletBlood agreed, "It would look so perfect with these uniforms."
I stared at my Vs. LoveBlood was not wrong. We had seen the conceptual drawings and the polished white-metal and glass proof of concept. As things went, it would be a, by Preserver Crown standards, rather elegant and understated piece. "I fear that's the intention."
Shrugging, GreyDawn started absently shuffling a deck. A wise move for an NCO to get out of her officer's way.
"You'll do great!" Visha cheered as something off to my side flashed with a bright light
Looking a bit guilty, Reinhild lowered the brass-fitted camera. "I am sorry, Countess, but your mother was insistent." Despite her apologetic tones, my aide's tails were swishing merrily.
"I'm sure it's a lovely photo," Visha said, her own tail moving about.
VioletBlood gave a triumphant smile and then, politely, pulled me out of the common room, down the hall, and down the grand staircase.
Passively, I let myself be taken across the city. This time it was a straightforward route, down one funicular to a bottom hub station and up another that rose as it crossed the Phlegethon river. I tried to make small talk with LoveBlood, but even she noticed that I was distant.
"It's not that bad. You should cheer up," she declared as we went up the stone stairs that were connected to the station by a curved path.
I stared at her once we reached the top. "I'm not sure it works that way."
"I'm just applying your lessons on how to motivate subordinates," she confidently stated as she looked around. This park always left her a bit speechless.
The glen was middling in size and, like most open spaces in this city, had the expected trees. Most of their branches were bare, but a few still bore orange and red leaves. That gave the statuary a more stark impression against branches and grey sky. In warmer months, this park, just outside the Academy, was a verdant place.
It was full of bronze statuary, most of it life-sized and case in a variety of poses that ranged from stately to jingoistic to seductive, all with names, awards, and titles carved into the plinths. They were the Daughters of BlackSky.
House Legate AshRain was on guard, sheathed sword in hand, sober, dignified, but with a restrained aggression. Censor CloudFire was lasciviously playful as if she had temptations aplenty. First Citizen RedStorm was captured mid-stride, confident and strong in the heraldry as the ruler of her own Great House. Praetor DawnStrike, ever the diplomat, beckoned friends with one hand but cautioned enemies with the other. Aedile Felisia stood proud in the superiority of our culture and society. And these were just a fraction of the statues.
And yet half a dozen of the plinths stood empty, their honors and ranks chiseled off, leaving just truncated names. Most of these belonged to the traitors from the eponymous Revolt of the Daughters. Though a few had come many centuries later. It was sobering. The statues and honors were gone, but the names remained. It was a public admission that the Imperial Family, the Imperatrix, was not perfect.
"I guess it's a good thing we're early," VioletBlood said, taking my arm and pulling me towards a statue that stood separately and apart from the others. This one was carved of pale marble and set on a black plinth surrounded by a small reflecting pool. Votive candles flickered in niches on the pool's edge.
My eyes met the forgiving but haunted visage rendered in the white marble. Her hair was done in a scarlet stone that was carved into tumbling curls. As I bowed my head, I looked for a seam or something to show that these were two pieces of stone fitted to each other. But like every other visit, I was left with the impression that this was carved from a single piece of two-tone marble that happened to be exactly what the sculptor required.
I fell into prayer with a lifetime's experience, or at least that of my most recent. This time I did request for mental clarity and serenity. It was meditative, reminded me of my mother, and I started to feel calmer. I still preferred the more abstract memorials.
"I knew that would cheer you up," VioletBlood said, her tone self-congratulatory even as she took my hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Um... How considerate of you." I hesitated, noting her cocky expression.
"I'm happy that you're happy," VioletBlood sounded sincere, but she clearly had an ulterior motive.
Frowning, I wondered if it had to do with the negotiations that would formalize our relationship. I was not engaged in any great rush which my Duchess seemed fine with, for now. Or it could be VioletBlood wanted to make sure she would make Flight Leaders.
"How can someone so pious be so paranoid?" VioletBlood snorted as she pulled me out of the park and towards the academy's gates.
I did not dignify that with a response.
The grounds of Mima Lumina Academy were immaculate. Even with winter imminent, there were a few cold-friendly plants that leant a splash of color to the gardens and the trees looked lovely as well. The buildings had a charming, if slightly pompous, formality to them all pillars and gables.
In a way it stood as a reflection of the War College across the river on the other side of the city. Both were grand institutions of the House and expressions of Imperial power. The War College's role was obvious, but I had gotten some appreciation for Mima Lumina's capability in polishing and training the various courtiers, diplomats, guilders and even artificers. For the latter the academy did have an impressive curriculum in the arcane sciences.
The difference was simply that I was comfortable with the instructors and students of the Imperial War College. Part of it was that it was as simple as wearing the proper uniform and fitting in. More broadly, they represented a world and mindset that I understood entirely.
Every time I stepped onto Mima Lumina Academy, on the other hand, I immediately felt self-conscious. I was not one of the students in their lacy blue blouses, frilly skirts and matching fluffy bows, and I certainly did not have the effortless elegance of the instructors.
Aggressively and haughtily, LoveBlood strode in as if she owned the place. Mamy of the students did stop to watch us with something approaching awe. A few sneered and tried to make snide comments, but my baroness practically pointed me at anyone who dared to speak up.
My reputation was helpful here. Anyone who saw me as a bloody-handed jumped-up provincial orphan knew I was dangerous because of that. I hated any time the propaganda served a purpose. After dealing with spoiled noble brats who could at the very least fight, these were almost too easy.
"This is why we need that crown of yours to be finished," VioletBlood smugly said as she gave a smirk to a small clique of almost ethereally-alluring girls all in matching gold and sapphire leotards and little skirts who sniffed dismissively at us as one. Shouldering bladed skates, they left showing impressive synchronization.
"Don't take it personally, my lady," a student with plaited ebony hair in a ballerina outfit apologized. She and her cohorts wore dark blue bodysuits that were more practical for practice as opposed to an eye-catching display for stage.
"I did not. Offense was not given. And I am not so petty as to demand an Apology out of those girls," I said and then inclined my horns. "Pardon, you have me at an advantage."
"I am Lady Laura BloodFrost, of the Emona BloodFrosts."
"Charmed, I heard it's lovely this time of year." Emona was a large island about a thousand miles due south of here.
"Oh, I'm used to Silvan winters by now, but if you're ever in the area my family would love to have you, and your betrothed," Laura amended.
VioletBlood gave me a far-too-self-satisfied look. "Regretfully, I must clarify; we are soon to be betrothed," she apologized to the ballerina while the rest of the troupe tittered.
"Does the figure skating club have a grievance or have their studies put them under pressure?" I remarked carefully and with precise diction, because that was proper and not because I had to take measure of my words before I said them.
Laura gave a sly look with her friends. "Ah, no. The poor ice girls are jealous."
I curled my tail and gave an inquisitive look.
"They've always had a rivalry with Mima Lumina's ballet troupe, and now both of you are here."
"There aren't many Imperial Heroes who were also figure skaters," one of the ballerinas giggled.
"We would love to watch you practice, but we have our lessons," VioletBlood apologized.
"Maybe another time?" Lady Laura aiggled, giving me a smile. There was something... eager and awed about the ballerina. Despite being the same age as me, she probably had a far more sheltered life, and thus had no context for the reality of being a Legion Flier.
"Of course," VioletBlood promised before I could reply.
Waving, bowing, and farewells commenced, and the ballerinas gave coy giggles when they saw VioletBlood openly taking me by the hand, and then curled her tail around mine, as we left.
I may have let out a surprised noise.
"Oh, don't complain, you've been hitting me with your tail for years, Countess," VioletBlood purred.
"That's different! And I don't do that anymore."
VioletBlood gave an exaggerated pout.
"And we're here for etiquette lessons." I tried to free my tail.
The baroness shrugged. "Good news is we found another Islander Girl for you. And this one's a ballerina and nobility, if barely."
I eyed her. "I'm not replacing Visha."
She snorted. "Of course not. Victorious is a capable Pilot."
I sighed.
"She has many other talents!" VioletBlood protested. "I'm happy to have her!"
"Really, LoveBlood?"
"The Lady BloodFrost is interested. And if she's a spare daughter or a minor cadet branch of a minor province then her mothers would be thrilled to have her be a Mistress for a Countess such as you."
I exhaled and let my tail relax. In her way, it was thoughtful, and I'm sure my Duchess would approve of LoveBlood being so considerate towards my preferences. "Your political supposition is not incorrect. Though I think her flirting was just being polite."
"And a bit of hero worship?" VioletBlood teased as we approached a granite-dressed building.
"Oh, certainly that."
"I'm not hearing you object to us taking Lady FrostBlood's offer to watch her troupe practice."
I gave her an amenable shrug.
The architecture was an interesting blend of sweeping curves and stolid construction. It was one of the academy's lecture hall buildings, and had a collection of circular amphitheaters of varying sizes as well as a handful of literal ballrooms.
That its eclectic collection of curved rooms did not look like a disorganized mess showed a considerable design elegance, not to mention skill with acoustic layout. However it did render a building that, while the main rooms were all intuitively easy to find, had a veritable warren of smaller chambers of all sorts of shapes.
"They must have an impressive cleaning staff here," VioletBlood noted as our heels clicked on the inlaid floors as we entered the building.
"The students do it," I stated.
VioletBlood tittered. "Really? That's something I expect from the Legions and not these pampered welps."
"It's about learning how to run an estate. It's similar to how a lot of the cooking and serving in their cafeteria is done," I said as we went through the main hallway as it curved slightly to one side.
Smiling, VioletBlood spotted a couple maids in blue livery cleaning a chandelier and inspecting its gas-lamps. For the latter, a woman in a jumpsuit watched them. Her suit was tailored to fit her, with periwinkle accents and little ruffles, but it was at its heart a practical uniform. That, and she had a toolbox to one side. "And I suppose taking turns as the supervisor and as the menials is supposed to teach them character?"
"What do you think? You just had a gaggle of Fleet cadets cleaning the hangar and maintenance bays at your beck and call."
VioletBlood's green eyes gave a wicked gleam.
"You haven't been too mean to them?" I asked.
"DarkStar forbid," VioletBlood smoothly assured.
Slipping free, my tail flicked with disbelief.
She pouted as we entered the lecture hall. It was one of the smaller ones in the building and was less a classroom and more of a stylish salon. For any other course of study, it would be odd to be taught in what amounted to a refined lounge full of tasteful art-pieces and refined furniture.
Even by the standards of Mima Lumina Academy this particular lecture hall was rather sumptuous. There were a handful of lacquered tables that served as desks each with a couple of overstuffed leather chairs.
There were two large sideboards under the windows at the front of the lecture hall. I frowned; normally they would have the various props and lecture materials for the day's lesson, but now they were.... empty. My curiosity at what today's lesson would be lingered as I looked at the rest of the room.
Four other students were already sitting down. Half were in frilly Legion blacks like VioletBlood and myself, the other half in ostentatious Fleet whites. The other noble young officers ranged up to late teens while I was the youngest by far, though one of the Fleet nobles who entered behind us was about VioletBlood's age. It was a bit hard to tell because, while slender with long glossy ash-blonde hair, the Telum Prefect Centurion had strong features and was male-presenting in form.
I gave a little bit of jealousy as the Prefect Landgrave Camillus managed to avoid wearing a skirt. On the other wing, his uniform exchanged frills for brocade and ostentatiously laced cuffs. The look was good on Camilus, but perhaps a bit more effeminate for my tastes even if it did come with pants.
Following my eye, VioletBlood made a thoughtful murmur and pulled us over to the dashing young officer.
Large dark purple tail swishing, the Torpedo Squadron commander bowed to us as we approached. "How can I help our graceful Ace Legion Fliers?" Landgrave Camilus's counter-tenor came out in a smooth purr.
"My Primus was admiring your uniform," VioletBlood said without any shame. "Why her gaze was kept on everything below the sash and above your boots."
Camilus chuckled. "You are shameless, Baroness."
VioletBlood gave a toothy smile.
Any further commentary was cut off by an increase in the pressure on all of our horns.
"Baroness VioletBlood, you have been flagrantly indecorous," Dame Preceptrix Lilith Severitas GracefulGold stated, sashaying into the room as she spoke. From her curled emerald coiffure to the rubies that hung from her ears, neck, horns, and wings, to the shimmering silk gown that managed to be understated accenting whilst simultaneously overindulgently opulent. The Preceptrix managed to wear a hideously expensive gown with an effortlessness that put my Duchess's manners to shame. Despite her bearing, she was no princess. However, she was distantly related to the Imperial Family.
VioletBlood wilted under the stern, but oh so perfect, gaze of our instructor. "Is this a recent discourtesy of mine, Dame Preceptrix?"
"Unless you've made a habit of entwining tails in front of the student body, yes I am talking about recent events." GracefulGold's eyes went to me and her forest green lips curled up. "Though, to your credit, you did respond to the action in question with commendable serenity and did not worsen the transgression to making a scene, Countess."
VioletBlood pouted while Camilus gave a polite laugh.
"And you have little grounds to be amused at the indelicacies of your peers, my handsome Landgrave." Preceptrix GracefulGold gave the room a study. "Well, at least none of you are tardy. Class, if you'll take your seats."
I had to help the bristling VioletBlood to our table. Two Fleet sisters with blue trim on their Fleet whites in the next table over were all mocking smiles at us. They were both Countesses with industrial holdings in Vordurium. Giving them a measured glare, I absently adjusted my left glove, loosening each finger as if I were about to pull it off.
The Marcellus twins stopped cold, tails still, their grey eyes focusing on me. I then straightened my glove back onto my hand and bowed my horns before turning back to our instructor.
Tail swishing, VioletBlood gave me a supportive, and a bit vindictive, pulse. I did not like throwing my weight around, and implying that I would threaten to duel a pair of haughty submarine communications and scrying officers. Dueling was a wasteful tail-measuring contest; besides Albina and Valeria were, in their way, extremely deadly officers. Their bond allowed them to give excellent, secure, and quiet communications between two submarines, not to mention their affinity with sonar and scrying systems.
Even for a pair with such unique skills, doing both roles was taxing, and their Commanders had to prioritize such things. Of everyone in the room, the twins had the most confirmed enemy kills, even if it was as part of ships' crew.
Preceptrix GracefulGold, oh so delicately, cleared her throat, and our attention was naturally drawn to her. Not quite an elder demoness, she still had great personal power and magnetism. "I wish to congratulate you," she said from the polished lectern at the front of the room, "I understand you would rather spend your time in the capital training or studying war. Your diligence to the House is commendable."
The other students preened a bit; I was on guard.
"However, you have responsibilities that come with your stations. Hence these lessons. Even nobles of the sword, even Imperial Heroines can use some polish. Which you have been commendable at." She gave a disarming smile that showed just a glimpse of her fangs. "That is why I want to congratulate you for reaching the halfway point of your tutoring here, and to give you a reward."
My tail stilled. I had spent more than enough time in military organizations to know that rewards could be quite dubious. I had been on the giving and receiving ends frequently enough.
GracefulGold's laughter was honeyed. "Do not fret. I asked you to come in uniform to reflect your commitments to our House. And these specific uniforms as a favor."
Glancing to VioletBlood, I tilted my horns. She was as perplexed as I. Frowning, I expected our instructor to have said these uniforms were a reflection of the duality of the peerage and the sword or some other claptrap. Then I felt a presence of such power that it was an almost elemental pressure front blowing in. My horns tingled uncomfortably as if the air was pregnant with the tension of an incipient thunderstorm.
I froze, briefly terrified at the idea that the Imperatrix herself was coming.
The Preceptrix's smile was now all teeth. "I did not want to burden you with the formal gowns or uniforms that would otherwise be required for such an exalted guest." She held out a hand and pulled with a single finger, swinging the wooden doors to the room open.
A force of nature in demonic form strode in. I had a moment of relief: she was not Imperatrix BlackSky. That emotion was quickly crushed as it was obvious who was visiting: one of her Daughters.
The statue had captured Felisia's face and elegant proportions, but did little to cover the sheer awesome deluge or her presence. Shorter than many of her sisters, she had tumbling blonde hair and wore a shimmering dress that went from midnight blue at the floor length hem to indigo at the long swinging sleeves to cobalt at the decolletage.
Diamonds twinkled as sequined trim and accents to her dress and as ornaments and jewelry. Crystalline perfection emanated from her as she inexorably approached with sublime poise. Much of her sparkled, from her powder blue horns, with the veil draped over them, to her necklace and the fins of her tail. Bright, luminous cerulean eyes studied us as platinum lips graded us with a warm smile.
I suppose GracefulGold's training was effective. Despite the existential dread and the feeling of being a bug in a bell-jar being inspected by some inscrutable being, all of us did get up and gave proper curtseys, or bow in Calimus's case. It was a bit ridiculous given how short our skirts were, but being polite to someone who was a literal strategic asset was only sensible.
Felisia smiled and inclined her horns to us. "It is a pleasure to meet you all. Please treat this as an informal event. My great grand-niece has said much about you and I wanted to meet you without too much pomp and ceremony."
I managed not to stare. I suppose by the standards of the Imperial Family her gown, and our uniforms counted. While frilly, they were not the highest level of ceremonial formality. I did not even own the confection of gold and black silk that was the Imperial Legion's most formal dress. That was a garment that required a polished plumed helmet or, in my case, a crown. More than our sartorial state, my suspicions were raised. This had to be some type of midterm exam, there was no way one of the Imperatrix's Daughters would just drop in.
"And to make things more at ease," Felisia gave an absent, effortless wave of her hand and the room filled with the scents of fresh sweet pastries, savory stews, ripe fruits, steaks, and other cuts of meat. The sidebars at the front of the room were suddenly filled with refreshments and a whole table with various carafes and bottles.
VioletBlood made a hungry murmur, and not just at the repast before us. Either Felisia had the foodstuffs here ahead of time and had kept them under a Veil that covered both sight and smell, or she had simply teleported them in from some staging location elsewhere in the academy. Both options were disquieting as she had used that level of control as a mere parlor trick.
Felisia smiled at us all standing in place. She then turned to our instructor. "Lilith, perhaps you trained them to be a bit too diffident."
GracefulGold bowed her horns.
I suppose we were all on guard, though this did not seem to be an exam. Perhaps, I should act as if it were not part of the class. Besides, this was an excellent networking opportunity.
I took VioletBlood's hand and went straight for Felisia. "Oh, how bold," the baroness whispered as the rest of the small class watched us.
"Your Highness, Aedile Felisia, Daughter of BlackSky, it is a pleasure to meet you," I said giving another curtsy. "May I have the privilege of introducing myself and my soon to be betrothed?" I asked as LoveBlood purred.
The pressure was intense at this range, only an arms-length away from the Daughter. It was like being enveloped in the Imperial's presence, an experience that should have been smothering, and if she was displeased with me, likely would be. "Oh, Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, the pleasure is mine. You are known to the Family. You and your fierce companion, Volantes Centurion Baroness VioletBlood," Felisia assured, those luminous blue eyes boring into us. Of course she would use our full names and titles.
"Ah, that is fortunate," I demurred after recovering my bearings. "I serve the House as best I can."
"Quite. My younger sister AshRain has been watching you with interest." Felisia smiled as she reached out and for a brief moment took my hands in hers. I stilled. The most shocking part was that her skin felt warm. Despite there being no shock, my horns were all pins and needles and I tried to get my tail under control. Somehow I felt more... shimmering.
"We shall talk shortly," Felisia continued, as if there was no pause. "But first I must make introductions with your compatriots. Please, get some refreshments."
++++++++++
It was for the best that there were about half a dozen of us. Spending too much time with a Daughter of the Imperatrix was a bit like too much time in the sauna. It was pleasant, even relaxing, but it could turn oppressive, and even a brief respite was gloriously refreshing.
Nibbling at something savory, VioletBlood sat next to me with a very contented and only somewhat smug smile. "And you objected to these lessons," she whispered.
I shrugged my wings.
"You seem less tense."
"I could use a bath, a cold bath," I clarified. My Duchess's residence did have a full set of baths.
VioletBlood's grin grew. "Maybe we could wash up when we get back."
"That's not a bad idea," I agreed. We were cadets together, in the same ballet troupe, and served in the same jungle FOB and other DarkStar forsaken places; we both knew the value of simple luxuries like a good shower.
VioletBlood's tail went limp. "You don't have to make everything so practical."
"A proper bath isn't that practical! You don't need to have the hot and cold soaks."
The baroness huffed and turned her head away from me.
Albina, the longer haired of the Marcellus twins, looked to her sister before giving me a sympathetic look. "Don't take it too hard. This is stressful for all of us," she quietly confided.
"This is a great opportunity and she is extending every courtesy," I replied. There was no doubt that Felisia could hear every word we were saying. I would be surprised if she could not follow every conversation in the room at once, but she maintained the polite fiction that we had measure of privacy. It was similar to the polite fiction that she did not possess the power to dominate and enthrall or simply subvert and distort.
"Just look at poor Camilus," Valeria stated.
The tall Fleet officer appeared to be having an engaging conversation with Felisia. But Camilus's body language was just brittle enough to hint at his self-conscious anxiety. Diyu Demons taking a male aspect was fairly uncommon, and, exceptional centurion or not, Camilus was talking with perhaps the staunchest cultural traditionalist in the Imperial Family.
"Don't be so worried about him," VioletBlood sniffed. "Camilus is being proper. Remember who requested these uniforms?"
After sipping my coffee, I bowed my horns to the baroness. Almost all of our uniforms were unisex, though tailoring could make up for a lot. However the one set of uniforms that had skirts also had a variant with pants. "Clever. She's sending a lot of messages."
What could have been seen as a heterodox deviancy was co-opted and pulled into BlackSkyvian culture. Imperial Heroes, ones with status, rank, and honor were given quite the latitude, as long as certain forms and proprieties were maintained.
"It's not just our military and arcane technology that needs to adapt and advance," Valeria piously said.
"And who better to make sure our culture grows in a proper and beneficial direction than Aedile Felisia?" Albina asked.
My first instinct was to point out Censor CloudFire's remit covered much of the same areas, that the Imperatrix herself had considerable sway, or that the height of hubris required to presume that one person, ancient demon or no, would be able to control an entire society's development was taller than the Imperial Palace.
Instead, I simply inclined my horns in a polite, if vague, agreement. Political peril aside, I did not have the time or inclination to get into an argument. Bringing politics into the workplace, which this salon most assuredly was, was risky at the best of time.
Felisia had finished talking with Camilus and, to my mild dread, was beckoning VioletBlood and myself over.
The second time talking with a Daughter went a bit better. There was a bit less shock of surprise, but there was more comprehension of the magnitude of the situation. That her presence felt pleasant only heightened my internal anxiety.
Imagine you are a small bat, like an eastern leaf-nosed bat or a red-winged Vanus bat. Some creature that, despite being small and fluffy, is, for her size, an agile flier and capable predator. And then a vast being of titanic power picks you up. The being is roughly in your shape. She has hair and wings and a tail, but the proportions are wrong, and she holds you in a cage of claws that are larger than your body.
She could kill you with a thought, but does not. And instead of a benign, indifferent observation... this being smiles. She finds you charming and fascinating, and wants to learn all about you.
And Felisia was not one of the older Daughters, nor was she one of the more martial ones. She was more of a proponent of soft power, social controls, and cultural means which was, in its way, worse.
I managed to keep up a pleasant facade through the introductory small talk.
Felisia smiled at us. "But I did want to congratulate you."
"On what, your Highness?" I asked. My Zephyr seemed curious but calm, as if the Daughter's power while intriguing was no threat.
Briefly studying me, her platinum lips curled into a smile. "My younger sister might have wanted the honor, or that gallant new Tribune Quirinus, and they'll get the chance to do it, officially."
I just gave a nod. The praise felt good, but I suspected what it would be a poisoned chalice.
"And heroes such as you, as you present yourself and as you truly are, deserve reward. Congratulations, soon-to-be Prefect Centurion." Felisia bowed her horns to me deeply. She offered drinks, more of the brandy she was drinking for VioletBlood and coffee for me.
I returned the gesture. This was not surprising. I knew this was coming since I had started at the War College, but it was one thing to know it; it was another to have a member of the Imperial Family confirm it.
Informally of course, but when someone from the Imperial Family says that about one's future promotion.... it will happen.
VioletBlood smiled at me and took my arm.
"And congratulations to you for qualifying for Primus as well," Felisia told VioletBlood. "Give Miss Shadow the same accolades, and an experienced centurion like Miss GreyDawn more than deserves her pending Signifer rank. Also I must congratulate you on a masterful instruction to your cadets"
As LoveBlood gushed, I patted her hand but I was still pondering. I had eight pilot slots to fill. At least I had two Flight Leaders which meant I only needed one more Primus Centurion. Though between Quirinus, my Duchess, the other Legion officers I was on good terms with, and the Imperial Family, I had more than enough of a network to get my pick of qualified Polyxo Pilots. I could take some comfort that I was less of a cosmic plaything, but I was still unmistakably the plaything of beings far more powerful than me.
Felisia sipped her drink. "If you will allow an indulgence. I am not an active officer and no expert on the ways of the Imperial Legions, but if you'll allow me some advice."
"Of course, your Highness," I assured, trying to keep my tail from freezing in horror.
"Your cadets. You have done much with them, especially considering the... unreasonable expectations some of them initially set," Felisia delicately said.
I took a drink of the quite excellent coffee. That at least obscured much of my face. "Ah, I think I understand."
"I don't mean all of them," Felisia assured, "That would be impractical, but accepting a handful for an active assignment. That... would allay the concerns of some powerful figures, and it would allow you to keep a close eye on some young Pilots. Those of great potential and skill, but lacking in experience. I believe your mentor Quirinus did much the same with you and your baroness."
Somehow, my tail did not twitch, though it may have curled up a bit. "That is true," I allowed. Of course I could not be free of politics. Still, having only a few of those noble brats under me, instead of an entire reinforced squadron would be an improvement.
"I have some ideas on who you can pick," VioletBlood said with a wicked smile, because of course she had thought about this.
"Excellent!" Felisia took a dainty sip. "And I would think having both fresh pilots and experienced ones would help the cadets learn that much faster."
I gave her a nod and a note of agreement. She was correct. That could help the novice pilots get up to speed, but at the cost of having the overall squadron take longer to grow into a cohesive unit. "I suppose the other Squadrons under Quirinus could use time to work-up, not to mention all four learning to operate as part of a Demi-Wing."
Felisia gave an airy shrug. Not to indicate she was dismissive of such military concerns, but that they were not her sphere of interest. I suppose GracefulGold's lessons had some value.
"Presuming there is not any great unpleasantness, it will not be immediate. Why, your tutoring here is only halfway done. And I know an industrious lady such as yourself will certainly make the best use of her time."
Ah, that was why she was telling me early. "I thank you for this notice. I will make sure to go about my selections both for my Squadron and Cadet placement recommendations for my cadets with the least.... acrimony."
Felisia's blue eyes locked onto me and for a moment wondered if she had peeled through my mind. "While, I appreciate delicacy in such actions. I would suggest you keep the Legion's interests in mind."
"Naturally," I bowed my horns. That was... flexible. The Imperial Legions, as an institution, was rather pragmatic and goal-focused. Part of that came from being the smaller, less glamorous, junior service. Still that meant that Legion Brass-horns were more than willing to play political games if that was what was required.
The Imperatrix's Daughter studied me for a moment. "Perhaps I should clarify. Make your choices with the Legion's practical interests in mind. Seek out the help of your Duchess, your Tribune and other sources. Make your selections using your best judgment, Countess. And... if you feel that some of the mothers of your cadets will be angry that their daughters were not among the ones you selected, please do not hesitate to contact my office," Felisia smoothly said as an ebony card with gilt edges appeared in her hand.
It was warm to the touch and, at a glance, was more than done in gilt leaf. The thick card felt like it was inlaid with gold and other precious metals, not to mention the blue twinkling jewels that were set in the corners. More than being precious metals, I could feel the enchantments laid into them and the card itself. The contact information shimmered and changed with subtle illusion magic and some sort of thaumaturgical link. I was certain that this was a calling card in a very literal sense.
Smelling faintly of sandalwood and rosewater, the hideously expensive artifact slipped it into one of the hidden pockets of my uniform. At least this frilly confection of a garment had that much going for it. "Thank you, I hope I will not need such assistance, but I shall take it if it proves necessary," I gracefully said. That was the deal then. As long as I took some number of cadets, the Imperial Family would smooth over any acrimony from the families of those who were placed in a less glamorous Flight School or Scouting Branch posting.
I suppose I could still reject the deal, but that would be snubbing an offer of assistance from a Daughter.
"That is most generous," VioletBlood effusively stated before going to me. "There, now you don't have to worry about offending the wrong noble matron."
Felisia smiled beatifically at us. "It is a pleasure to meet with the flower of BlackSkyvian youth. To see those who protect us." The Daughter studied my earrings. "It is fitting."
"Your Highness?"
"Oh, just rumors," Felisia drank some brandy. "Mother misses her so. And she never lost hope."
I nodded. It was a key tenet of the Church that DarkStar would return to us. I was skeptical, although not because I thought that reincarnation was impossible. Indeed, I knew for a fact that was very much a real thing, as did Visha, and besides the phenomena was hardly undocumented on Diyu. However, the wait for her return had now stretched over entire millennia of waiting. As such, there had been more than a few "false" DarkStars, and the prospect that the real article would return seemed like a mirage, always receding further and further away.
"We all pray that she will return to us," I stated, with all sincerity, bowing my head.
"Did you know her?" VioletBlood asked, to my quiet horror.
Felisia gave a sad laugh. "Alas, my bloody baroness, her loss was before my time. However, my older sisters were around then and DawnStrike remembers her fondly. More than my own desire to meet DarkStar, I hope to be there to see when Dawn and Mother reunite with her."
The ancient demoness' face flickered with melancholy but was soon banished. "But that is enough of the past, let us talk about the future, your future."
++++++++++
I will freely admit that after our "lessons" I had let my mind wander and may have put too much trust in LoveBlood's judgment and guidance. I know it was just my mind, but the card from Aedile Felisia felt warm in my tunic pocket. It felt like a reminder, a tangible memory proving that the evening in the salon had, in fact, happened, and that the Daughter had apparently been observing my instruction of the cadets. I spent the funicular ride home mulling over the time I had left at the War College.
I would have to accelerate my lesson plan. A lucky number of the cadets under me would not have the luxury of the usual route through Flight School followed by a low-tempo initial posting. Instead, they would be coming with me. Thus, for their survivability and mine, I would have to make sure they would be qualified.
It was with those thoughts in mind that I hardly noticed as we went down the steep valley of the city, made the transfer to another line, and then that we had gotten off the ascending funicular well before our normal station.
The schmoozing and networking with a Daughter of the Imperatrix had taken a fair bit of time. GracefulGold wanted to be sure that all of us got some time with Felisia, and our instructor had gotten in a couple lessons and refinements as to the proper ways to interact with the Imperial Family.
"Where are we going?" I asked when we waited at an intersection. Glancing about I could see the spire of the Palace and was able to estimate our distance, and elevation. Not too far down-slope of the Imperial War College, we were in a bit rowdier part of the city, or at least the part that the various journeymen and apprentices of the guild-halls considered rowdy. The really... exciting parts of the city were to the east in the dockyards, freight yards, and stockyards.
"I wanted to take you someplace to help you recover from all the tension of our meeting," VioletBlood assured in a tone that was only slightly sinister.
"Without us changing first?" I felt a bit self conscious. Our clothes did not stand out with the early evening crowds, except inasmuch that few military uniforms were this frilly. I felt more like my brief time working for Luddy's cafe.
"Oh, these uniforms are fine." The baroness waved my concerns away as we crossed the street and came to a winding street that was just full of entertainments.
Bright signs made out of fluorescing tubes started to buzz on as we were led to an area full of beer gardens, coffee houses, bath houses, wine bars, massage cloisters and dance halls. "And where are we going?"
Pouting, VioletBlood sighed and gestured to one of the humbler wine bars. Like the other places there was outdoor street-side seating and a whole terraced garden. There were a few squat fire pots set up with fragrant smoke puffing out their chimneys.
Unlike the neon signage of its neighbors this place had a simple carved wooden sign. However, above the sign was a giant garishly-painted wooden lemon.
"The Oily Lemon?" I stopped by the open entrance gate. Caved below the wine bar's name was the establishment's slogan: Come down and have a squeeze.
"You'll have fun!"
"Where did you hear of this place?" I stepped aside to let a couple in Fleet uniforms with two Auxilia companions enter. My tail stilled as they looked us over. The Oily Lemon was vaguely familiar.
"Oh, around. Don't worry about it." Somehow, VioletBlood's base reassurance failed to soothe my curiosity, in fact, all it did was give me cause to wonder if I should be worried.
"We just came from a function with full refreshments," I said, speaking slowly in case I had missed something, "and you want us to go to a bar?"
VioletBlood shook her head at me. "We're not here for that, but we did just come from a rather... stressful lesson."
"Ah," I said, understanding dawning, "you want us to unwind."
"Something like that," my baroness said, pulling me into the Oily Lemon.
Despite the rather short yellow uniforms of the wait-staff, the wine bar was fairly cozy. There were awnings over most of the tables that helped keep out the chill and the central room had a small band tuning their string instruments.
Imperious as ever, VioletBlood chatted up the hostess and then went straight to one of the back patios. It was an intimate nook with several low couches surrounding a pair of tables that looked over a small garden; several nearby nooks were also angled to give the same view.
The tables were already occupied. I stopped when VioletBlood pulled back the curtain. The surprise was muted but the cadets, my cadets, froze. Ah, this must be the wine bar my cadets frequented. By the count of bottles, at least they were not drinking to excess. And there were only a couple meerschaum pipes and a small amber dropper-bottle of Pixie.
"Primus Centurion! It's a pleasure to see you!" Pulivia stammered while Lavish pulled herself up and adjusted her blouse. SkySpear and some of the other cadets chuckled, though I noticed a pair in the back also scooted apart so that they were no longer leaning on each other, and the cadet closest to the table scooped the accoutrement off the table and into her bag.
Politely, I looked to one side. VioletBlood smiled at the cadet's actions and gave an almost approving murmur at the labels on the various bottles. The girls were off duty, and nothing they were using was proscribed for Legionaries. And for the amorous behavior, I had no place to talk and the Legions were... generous with the fraternization rules. Besides, some minor public displays of affection were extremely tame by our standards.
VioletBlood gave me an eager look.
"At ease girls." I waved off. "We were just coming here after a meeting to unwind."
Evaluating our uniforms, Lavish gave me a calculating look. She suspected it had to be a rather high status meeting, to warrant such fripperies.
The Baroness's tail swished as her green eyes sparkled. Realization hit and I shot her a glare and was even about to wave my hand to cut her off. "And we have some excellent news."
"Has your promotion gone through, Ma'am?" SkySpear asked.
VioletBlood simply gave me a smug look. "Maybe I should get some more appetizers?" she asked, stepping back into the hallway to flag down a waitress.
I sighed. "Yes. It's unofficial, but it will come through. Don't worry, this should be after your training has completed. I won't be leaving you in a lurch," I promised.
"That's not the best part," VioletBlood smiled, back after placing a rather generous order.
"And that is?" Lavish RoseTalon inquired, having quickly regained her decorum.
I looked around the girls, about half of my cadet squadron was here. "There will be some slots in my squadron."
"Of course, but why..." Pulivia's eyes widened.
"That's right!" VioletBlood's smile was all teeth.
"What will the Squadron's composition be?" one of the erstwhile cuddlers in the back asked.
VioletBlood sniffed as if that answered it.
"We're not Polyxo qualified," SkySpear noted.
"The bar will be set high, and your training tempo will increase," I stated, tone adamantine.
"And that's why I figured we can all relax tonight!" VioletBlood cheered.
End Chapter 20
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
Special thanks to Readhead for the polish and extra editing, particularly with Samoth's part.
And ch21 is about 3k written, so I can confidently say that the "capital arc" is over and Prefect Centurion Tauria will be taking her Squadron to the off-world colonies.
Last edited:
Images: Special Rewards: Ritual Plate Models & Fancy Dress
- Location
- USA
To give a status update, and to showcase some new art, but mostly to showcase some new art here's.... some new art.
But first the status update:
Chapter 21 of Little Demon is at 8,500 words. And is hopefully at maybe halfway to 2/3 written.
The Omake Peer Rivals Ch2 is ast 5,000 words and should be at nearing the last scene.
First from we have a future preview of a day Tauria has been telling herself she dreads and her Vs have been looking for. In an amazingly sparkly and frilly piece by PlayerError404
In fairness to her concerns, a countess officer of her note marrying a baroness, with their mistress would be quite the fanciful event.
Yes. that is an Elenese Mokosh recon suit and a Luxon Anupet multi-role suit.
And now we come to some excellent work by PlayerError404 showing all three configurations of the Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role.
First we have the Ground Attack Polyxo configuration, which is roughly analogous to the Sarpendona. Pictured with the Pilum (anti-armor) and Falx (anti-infantry) projectors and heavier armor and protective wardings.
Next we have the Air-superiority Polyxo configuration, which is comparable to the Harmonia. This is pictured with the Ballista air-to-air optimized weapons, and suit add-ons for superior high speed performance and maneuverability.
Finally we have the Lance Strike variant Polyxo configuration, which is comparable to the Telephe. This is pictured with a massive Lance system, including the arcane projector and the various high magical energy storage flasks that power the weapon's limited capacity.
There are a few artistic liberties with the design, they may not glow this much, but the colors are also veiled and muted when in combat mode, and the strike modes may have two lances, their verutum launchers aren't shown. But those are minor, I'm really happy as this shows vast differences in the configurations the Polyxo has when the different weapon and maneuvering and warding kits are attached.
Next we have a picture of Tauria's maid... er... aide in a slightly more human-looking guise, from Saturn13
Reinhild SunShower has found some quirks of her new mistress but overall is pleased with her new job.
And finally we have the frilly, but technically official, Legionary uniform variant from chapter 20 done by PLayerError404.
VioletBlood is her usual exuberant self, and even the kitsune seems amused, while Tauria does wonder how bad this meeting will go, little does she know that soon she'll meet another Daughter shortly and be given some "good" news.
But first the status update:
Chapter 21 of Little Demon is at 8,500 words. And is hopefully at maybe halfway to 2/3 written.
The Omake Peer Rivals Ch2 is ast 5,000 words and should be at nearing the last scene.
First from we have a future preview of a day Tauria has been telling herself she dreads and her Vs have been looking for. In an amazingly sparkly and frilly piece by PlayerError404
In fairness to her concerns, a countess officer of her note marrying a baroness, with their mistress would be quite the fanciful event.
And here we have a symbol of the alliance between Great Houses Elena and Luxon. Done by LexiKimble
Fullsize
Fullsize
Yes. that is an Elenese Mokosh recon suit and a Luxon Anupet multi-role suit.
And now we come to some excellent work by PlayerError404 showing all three configurations of the Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role.
First we have the Ground Attack Polyxo configuration, which is roughly analogous to the Sarpendona. Pictured with the Pilum (anti-armor) and Falx (anti-infantry) projectors and heavier armor and protective wardings.
Next we have the Air-superiority Polyxo configuration, which is comparable to the Harmonia. This is pictured with the Ballista air-to-air optimized weapons, and suit add-ons for superior high speed performance and maneuverability.
Finally we have the Lance Strike variant Polyxo configuration, which is comparable to the Telephe. This is pictured with a massive Lance system, including the arcane projector and the various high magical energy storage flasks that power the weapon's limited capacity.
There are a few artistic liberties with the design, they may not glow this much, but the colors are also veiled and muted when in combat mode, and the strike modes may have two lances, their verutum launchers aren't shown. But those are minor, I'm really happy as this shows vast differences in the configurations the Polyxo has when the different weapon and maneuvering and warding kits are attached.
Next we have a picture of Tauria's maid... er... aide in a slightly more human-looking guise, from Saturn13
Reinhild SunShower has found some quirks of her new mistress but overall is pleased with her new job.
And finally we have the frilly, but technically official, Legionary uniform variant from chapter 20 done by PLayerError404.
VioletBlood is her usual exuberant self, and even the kitsune seems amused, while Tauria does wonder how bad this meeting will go, little does she know that soon she'll meet another Daughter shortly and be given some "good" news.
Fabula Amanti
I want a Grimoire, but I got books.
- Location
- Singapore
Question, have you considered using AI art as well? It would be interesting to see what you get from it.
- Location
- USA
I haven't tried, but Scarlet Fox gave it a go and the results can be seen here. Which seem to capture Tauria pretty well.
Chapter 21: Officers and Obeisance
- Location
- USA
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 21: Officers and Obeisance
Mursam was House BlackSky's largest colony. Located on a dimensional crossroads that made further travel easier, similar but lesser than that of the Homeplane of Diyu itself, Mursam was a central location that served as a logistical, commercial, and military hub for most of House BlackSky's other colonies.
I was not a member of the Cartographers' Guild, let alone the Transcendental Survey Branch, but I could read a map. Mursam was a key holding and thus needed considerable defense for itself and nearby colonies, especially since a direct transit from Diyu to Mursam had been charted about forty years ago, around the same time as the Third Great House War.
A full Coetus Malleus of twenty Legions, including Corpus Incursio Tenacity, was held here with enough Rorarii, first line reserves, to form at least ten more Legions. I was not sure how many second line reserves there were in Mursam, but this colony was a favorite place for Legionaries to retire to. The Emurian Fifth Landing Fleet was stationed here to transport Tenacity to any location on Mursam or any other colony and, if needed, could ferry another half-dozen legions in a second wave. The Colonial Domitianus Fourth Fleet was not quite as powerful as the Home Fleets, but the Fourth had about twenty capital ships, half of them stationed on Mursam, including the Celestial class Empyrean Zenith.
Of more relevance to the task of defending colonial holdings was the larger number of smaller combat airships also attached to the Fourth Fleet. Of course, the large contingent of assorted supply ships was the most vital component of the Fourth by far, and the key element to projecting BlackSky's Legions across the House's far-flung colonies. This mission was further advanced by a whole constellation of smaller bases and outposts standing watch over the secondary colonies.
Positioned over a natural harbor where the grassy steppes met the ocean, the colonial capital Mursa Victrix was a sprawling city of broad horizons. After spending about a year in Silvana, I had felt a twinge of agoraphobia when I was first exposed to the vast vistas, seas of grass or brine stretching endlessly in all directions around the city. Though, after a period of acclimation, I had grown familiar with the starkly beautiful landscape; it reminded me of Bovitar, the city I had grown up in, one orphan among many.
I stood on the balcony of the offices my squadron had been assigned while we trained with the rest of Quirinus's Demi-Wing. Today, the westerly breezes had obligingly brought the cool sea air directly to the balcony, cutting the edge off the alchemical stink of the industrial yards and mechanical stench rising from the massive base known as Colonia Mursam Castramagnus. I had gone from spring in Diyu to early fall in Mursam, which was only part of dealing with a slightly shorter year, a longer day, and other differences that gave a lingering feeling of unbalance and disquiet. Accepted wisdom held that it took a month to acclimate to life on a new dimensional plane.
I turned away from studying the sky. As always, the burning cloudless blue was busy with the expected aircraft. If one wanted to return to Diyu or to travel even further along the dimensional spine, then the only realistic options were a Teleport-rune-equipped airship or access to a proper Gateway.
Sipping from my mug, I stepped back through the privacy wards and into my squadron's offices. I took my time to enjoy the brew; it was the only cup I would allow myself for the day. Getting good coffee out here was far more expensive, hence the local popularity tea enjoyed.
Putting aside fears of another House War, of deals with Archangels, and the sundry other concerns I labored under, I allowed myself a moment of pride. The Third Squadron of the 78th Infantry Legion's Epsilon Demi-Wing was mine. Granted, I was still just over halfway filled on Pilots, but that would be fixed soon.
Passing Flight Two's Pilots, I looked over their shoulders and was gratified to see they were going over reports. Without any reminders necessary, would wonders never cease! Before I could congratulate them on their diligence, I felt a pressure at the base of my horns. The sensation was familiar and I was surprised at the sudden chorus of feelings that welled up with me at that nostalgic touch. My senior Pilot, Volantes Signifier GreyDawn opened the door to admit our visitor.
The willowy Centurion who stepped in looked more mature and grown up than I remembered her, but quite a bit of water had passed under the bridge since we'd parted. Octavia was a dark purple-skinned woman with glossy black hair and amber eyes. Even her wings, which I remembered as seeming vaguely oversized, now fit her slender frame perfectly. Not much older than LoveBlood, she walked with more confidence than the green Pilot I had first met over two years ago.
"Pri- Prefect Centurion DiamondDust!" she said, correcting herself as she saluted, exposing her neck and flicking her claws.
Returning the salute, I smiled, pleasantly surprised at our reunion; that is, I was surprised that Octavia had arrived today. "Centurion Octavia, it's good to see you, please come in."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
"You can be at ease," I chuckled, before continuing in a louder voice so the rest of my Squadron could hear. "Anyone who helped get the crew of a downed Spatha out of Ortov while the city burned and suffered alongside me in FOB EmeraldInferno in the Crocelli jungles has earned a bit of leeway."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Octavia agreed while GreyDawn chuckled.
My two Flight Leaders ambled over; Visha and VioletBlood also knew Octavia, of course. Though my wingwoman had missed out on all the fun of Ortov and minor House Vualia.
"Welcome to Third Squadron," VioletBlood said, sizing her up. "Congratulations on getting married," the Baroness added, her gaze upon me weighty.
"Thank you for sending us such lovely gifts, all of you." Octavia smiled and bowed her horns to us. "And congratulations on your engagement, to all three of you."
VioletBlood gave a smugly confident smile while I stammered an appreciative response.
"Thanks! It's great to have you again." Visha handed her a cup of coffee. "You'll be in Flight One, that's with the Countess, GreyDawn, and myself."
"We'll be wingwomen again," GreyDawn said with a toothy grin.
Octavia steeled herself. Being in a Squadron's First Flight was an honor, First Flight considered of: the Squadron Commander; her second, and the Flight Leader; and, in this case, the Squadron's senior pilot. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she said with more assertiveness than I expected.
The new Pilots of Flight Two looked up from their work, seeming to finally notice the new arrival, although in all likelihood they had simply been tactful enough to give our reunion the illusion of privacy.
"How much do you know of the assignment?" I asked
Octavia's usual cockiness faded slightly. "Junior Tribune Artemis Quirinus has four Squadrons. First Squadron, commanded by her wingwoman, Prefect Centurion Caenis, consists of Harmonia Air Superiority models. Second and Fourth are Sarpedona Ground Attack models. Which leaves Third Squadron, which is equipped with Polyxo."
"Ah, I see someone's read the briefing," I said, giving a bit of levity.
"I am Legion; I had help with the bigger words," Octavia smoothly replied. "But if you want me to elaborate..."
I shook my head. "It's pretty basic. Nearly fifty Legion Fliers, my guess is Demi-Wing Epsilon is intended to provide extra support to Legionary formations. Which, out in the colonies, has some implications. We'll be the swing Squadron. Our role will change depending on what Quirinus needs."
"It sounds like a good fit for someone of your skill," Octavia acknowledged.
I chuckled; from a stranger that could come off sycophantic, but Octavia knew my command style and had been trained under my wing. "You already know Flight One. LoveBlood, care to introduce Flight Two?"
"It'd be my pleasure." VioletBlood clapped her hands and snapped a summons at the trio of former cadets.
I allowed myself to fade into the background, free to enjoy my coffee as the newly minted pilots made their introductions. Those three had fought, suffered, and demanded exactly this. After Felisia had recommended I take some cadets into my Squadron I had spent the months after increasing the tempo of my training.
The rest of my Squadron had helped; we all knew that whoever would be picked would have to be reliable, capable, and able to learn. Beyond passing the examinations to proxy for Flight School the three winners had undergone personal evaluations conducted by Quirinus. I was grateful my commander had invested the time to put them through their paces, coming to her own conclusions about their fitness to serve. Conclusions that would be independent of my history with my former students, and the mixed feelings I had still harbored once Quirinus had confirmed that they passed muster.
The other cadets had gone onto Flight School with my letters of recommendation in hand, and were by and large taking the more conventional path of study, training, and waiting until the proper age before trying for a combat slot. I had done my duty and had provided the Imperatrix with a baker's dozen of Legion Fliers.
And yet, none of that was my concern now, thankfully. I had done all that had been asked of me as an educator, and now I was no longer forced to ride herd on a flight of ungrateful whelps and pampered daughters.
It was a drop in the bucket, as the BlackSkyvian war machine went. Every year the Imperial Legions graduated about seven hundred Legion Fliers. The larger Household Fleet needed well over three thousand Fleet Pilots annually, and that was just for Ritual Plate; VTOL, airship, and other aircrew were a whole other personnel pipeline.
"It has been my burden to command my fellow nobility and mentor them in what it takes to be a Legion Flier," VioletBlood said, stepping next to her fellow baroness. "This is my wingwoman, Centurion SkySpear. As the most capable and willing to put aside foolish ideas of being a duelist mistress of the air, it has not been entirely unpleasant flying with her."
With her side-shaved and braided silver hair, curled horns, and finely aristocratic periwinkle features, Baroness SkySpear almost looked like she would be better off in Fleet Whites than Legion Blacks, but she had proven that she could step out of her mother's shadow.
"Ma'am." SkySpear nodded to VioletBlood before turning to Octavia. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've read a lot about your missions."
Octavia bowed her head, presenting her horns.
"And these two I've put together in the hopes they'll keep each other out of trouble, but the countess decided to give Centurions Pulivia VibrantFang and Lavish RoseTalon a chance. Amazingly, neither has broken their new Polyxo suits yet. Yet."
Behind my coffee mug, I somehow managed to not grit my teeth. That those two had stuck with my program and managed to rise to the top was not entirely unexpected or displeasing. Lavish had a dogged stubbornness that was almost admirable. Things got easier for her when she realized I was not someone she could bully past using her force of personality or the weight of her senatorial mother's reputation.
Pulivia, the closest thing to a friend Lavish seemed to have, was rather studious and, despite a meekness out of the suit that seemed at odds with being the daughter of a duchess, third-in-line or not, she was decisive in the air. I just had to look past the two spoiled, pampered girls who thought they could crash a meeting with the manufacturer of our suits.
Which, admittedly, had been a very large ask.
Pulivia seemed a bit nervous and almost in awe of Octavia. "You were with the countess at the start?"
"That was me," VioletBlood haughtily interjected, as keenly defensive of her claims as always. "Isn't that right, Countess?" I keenly felt the conversational gravity drawing me back in, just as surely as if the baroness had stooped to looping her arm around mine and pulling me back in by main force. Fortunately, she'd retained a small measure of discretion. "But Octavia does go back very far."
Lavish gave a respectful bow to the both of us. It was odd to see her in a proper Legion uniform and not one with a cadet's green trim. "It will be good to fly with you."
I gave a sharp smile. "Quite so, now your Flight doesn't have a numbers advantage."
VioletBlood gave a small huff. "You do realize how unfair it is. Your Flight is full of aces with years of experience, while, aside from my own brilliance, I merely have cadets," she whined theatrically.
"Then you'll have to use your brilliance to close the gap," I said with a shrug equally theatric in its nonchalance, capping off my studied disregard with a long sip from my now-lukewarm coffee.
VioletBlood went from an exaggerated huff to a more sinister mien. "I'll just have to work them harder then," she crowed and cackled with malicious glee, and Pilots' tails went limp.
"Did your Ritualista transfer too?" Visha asked, diverting attention away from VioletBlood's minor power trip.
"They came with me on the same supply ship from Silvana." Octavia nodded and gave a smile. "I also may have brought a few goods from home."
My subordinates looked at my mug.
"Among other things," Octavia assured. "I did manage to get you a few things as well Ma'am."
I gave the Legionary Flier a wary look.
"Ma'am?"
"The Prefect is just weary after writing thank you notes for all going away presents she got before leaving Silvana," Visha explained, her tone placating and infuriatingly tolerant.
"I don't see why! Honestas and SaphireFiligre did wonderful work on her crown, and the coat of arms the duchess presented her was lovely, and long overdue. Not to mention getting you a proper sword," VioletBlood huffed, taking a moment way from harassing her pilots to shoot me a frustrated look as if I were to blame for such delays, which was only partially true.
"You have a coat of arms?"
"Oh yes," VioletBlood chirped, turning to smile at Octavia. "a lovely design of azure over sable. A constellation of nine crimson stars mount the black lower half while a pair of white wings rise up over them to the blue field feathers up protecting a golden star of Our Hallowed Lady." To my mild amazement, VioletBlood's tail was swishing enthusiastically, as if she were flaunting her own honors instead of dealing my own frippery. "I'd show you, but the countess doesn't want to put her coat of arms up in her office, let alone the common room."
I gave my betrothed a withering look. I appreciated the effort put into such gifts, but I was never one for crowns, and my coat of arms was rather... blatant in its symbolism. I was fortunate the design had been publicly entered into the registry after my business with Samoth had concluded. The Zioxan mercenary could have easily taken offense at the clear references to her sister's death on my arms, and surely would have taken the opportunity to claim insult if only to claim another bargain chip during our negotiations.
Still, the crown, sword, and coat of arms did suit the legend of Countess DiamondDust and would be useful when I was compelled to leverage that reputation. I suppose that was the real meaning of the gifts my sisters and mother gave me.
"It would compliment your crown wonderfully," VioletBlood's sober tone belied how petulant she was being.
"I don't keep that here either."
"At least your sword is in the office." This time VioletBlood didn't bother to conceal her pout behind any measure of decorum.
"It was her elder sister's," Visha said, trying to be conciliatory.
Thankfully she was not speaking of my late elder sister. Even I would have found that to be an ill-omened artifact. Still, ArgentShroud had honored me with a gift of one of her blades. She also had good humor and hoped that I, like her, would never need to use it in combat. "I can show you that if you wish," I said in a tone that indicated it would be best if Octavia wished for no such thing.
"No need," she said, full of assurance. "And I think you'll be happy with the items I procured. Signifier GreyDawn gave me a list."
"Unlike the rest of you, I've been off-world before," GreyDawn put in. "Things are better than they were back then, but there's always a few items that are hard to get out here."
"Good, and we'll go over our stockpile and see if there's anything we need to restock before we get posted further out." I turned back to Octavia. "Have your Ritualista contact Centurion Gibbs for their slotting and Miss SunShower, my aide, for any personal issues."
"I made sure my suit never left my Ritualistas' sight. They're offloading it right now." Octavia stated with justifiable pride; getting your suit lost due to a bureaucratic mix-up would be embarrassing and frustrating. "Your aide?"
"The Prefect's kitsune maid," GreyDawn clarified, a spark of humor danding around her eyes.
"Ah." Octavia politely nodded, her face a study of bland disinterest
"She's great at being both aide and maid!" VioletBlood insisted, although her point was decidedly undermined by the lingering petulance in her voice.
"She has been an excellent find, Ma'am," GreyDawn agreed with a face just straight enough that I couldn't chide her for the almost audible laughter at my expense.
I put my mug down on the table in the center of the room, deciding that it would be best for my dignity to simply ignore the entirety of the digression. "Octavia, I want your suit's records submitted to Centurion Gibbs. It took her long enough to accept the promotion; she might as well have something interesting to look at. First, is there anything you need fixed, anything you want? We might as well get your Polyxo refreshed when we're still at the biggest depot in the colonies."
"It was refitted to Mark 15 last year; overall it's good. But the stabilizers could use recalibrating, the survival kit is getting a bit old, it could do with a standard seal replacement, and the Ballista projectors are reaching the end of their lifespan, Oh, and my comms need syncing."
"Understandable, all standard," I said quickly drafting a memo as I listened. The survival kit, a set of relevant supplies stored on the inner suit layer, was easy to overlook. Fortunately, nothing was too time-sensitive, though fresh batteries, supplies, and munitions were beneficial. Getting her comms systems aligned with the rest of her Flight, Squadron, and Wing was, of course, the highest priority on the list. Bad communications may kill, but no communications was scarcely better.
Visha gave me a look and quietly took the pen from my hand and finished writing out the memo. Ah, this was her Flight, and as such standard suit issues were more her responsibility than mine. "Do you have a Gorgon Rig?" Visha asked her new Pilot as I took a step back, trying not to look too obviously chastised.
"Unfortunately, no." Octavia seemed a bit bashful about that. "My scrying systems have been updated but not to that level."
"We'll make sure you're consistently equipped. I won't have one of my Flight being the odd girl out," Visha said, disarmingly charming as always.
"I simply strongly suggested to my Pilots that they purchase that option when they bought their own Polyxo suits," VioletBlood said, giving her Flight a predatory smirk.
I eyed my least experienced Pilots without much sympathy. That was one advantage of dealing with spoiled nobles; they were able to buy their way up to par. "It's a shame that equipping Flight Three with Gorgon Rigs won't be that easy."
"Who will be in Flight Three?" Octavia asked.
"I've got a Flight transferring from the Primus Anchorage," I answered, pleased with the announcement. It would be nice to have another experienced Flight attached to my Squadron. Hopefully, we would be able to have the luxury of familiarization training to get all three of my Flights to work together as well as acquainting my Squadron with Quirinus's other three Squadrons.
"We're getting some moon succubae?" Lavish asked, blunt as always.
VioletBlood and I gave her arch looks. Pulivia winced by proxy at the somewhat crass slang.
"Sorry, that was too informal of me," Lavish said, trying to sound contrite and mostly failing. The green Pilot had the sense to not point out VioletBlood's nickname for Visha, nor the baroness's own nickname.
"Are they natives of Lantia? Did they grow up on the Anchorage?" VioletBlood asked, thankfully moving the conversation past Lavish's faux paus. Although, judging by her enthusiasm, she might be inquiring from genuine curiosity about her new comrades. If so, I could easily understand her curiosity. Lantia had a different culture, more reserved, than Diyu proper. It was also the heartland of House Andromache. The Lantian Primus Anchorage was the homeport of Primus Third Fleet, the Emuria Eighth Landing Fleet, and had a large Legion presence. All that meant a large population of support staff and dependents.
On first blush, the Primus Anchorage seemed like a safe rear position. In some ways, the Third and Eighth gave better service as fleets-in-being being unlikely to ever leave their berths in earnest. The possibility of having about ten capital ships, with full escort and fleet support, and Corpus Incursio Vigilance appear anywhere on Diyu within a couple hours was a considerable threat to any opposition, leaving the Anchorage as a quiet but prestigious post.
That impression, while not entirely untrue, was also exaggeration. It took time to collect, load, and stow the Legions on their troopships, not to mention charge their Teleport Runes. If it ever came time for the Third and Eighth to deploy in earnest, any enemy intelligence would surely see them coming and take immediate countermeasures. Still, when it came to rapid deployment of significant troop capacity, House BlackSky had invested considerably in that capability and it would be very through countermeasures indeed to even impede the massive lunar deployment. Even knowing an attack by the Third and Eighth was imminent, an enemy would be unable to concentrate their defenses unless they knew where the assault was to fall.
Both as a first strike capability or as a rapid reinforcement to either First or Second Home Fleet, these formations were a figurative Damocles Sword suspended over Diyu. It was the latter aspect, with even faster assistance if Beacons were used, that was what Third Fleet and its supporting Legionary assets were more frequently deployed as. I had enough experience to know that a posting on Lantia would be far from calm and sedate.
"Their Flight Leader is a veteran and did grow up in the garrison," I explained, moving on from considerations of Lantia. The relative value of that posting was academic in my case. While it was theoretically possible for me to acquire a slot based on the Primus Anchorage, I could only do that if I ceased to be Quirinus's subordinate.
"Oh? Why's she having her Flight transfer out here?" GreyDawn asked, just managing to keep the suspicion out of her voice. A trained Polyxo Flight was a valuable commodity in the Legions, and a transfer of an entire Flight was entirely worthy of comment.
"Was she floored by the opportunity of serving under you?" VioletBlood's haughty tone had undercurrents both gushing and snide.
I gave her a level look to indicate she was being just a bit too familiar in front of the Legionaries.
Tail curling, VioletBlood gave a small nod.
Looking at the clock I ran a few numbers. "Your suit's being offloaded?" I asked Octavia.
She nodded. "My Ritualista should be moving it to join the rest of the squadron. We're in hangar 38, the one just down the hall and on the ground floor?"
"Good, good. And have you had lunch yet?" I asked, giving the suddenly worried pilot a sharp smile.
Octavia shook her head warily, eyes fixed on mine. "I'm still getting used to the new time. Acclimation period and all that."
"Well, how about we all have a quick meal?" Despite my cheerful tone, my Pilots were skeptical and worried. "I'll talk to Gibbs and see if all our suits are flight-ready."
"Do you want me to get clearance from Flight Ops?" Visha diffidently asked.
"Yes, let's see what slots they have available, worst case we might have to get some simulator time," I said, giving my Pilots a reassuring smile. Half of the cowards openly flinched away. "Don't worry, this is just some familiarization training. It's not like even I can get a live fire exercise approved on this short notice."
For some reason the seven other Legion Fliers did not seem terribly reassured by my words.
++++++++++
Some things never change. When your commanding officer requests your presence "at your convenience" or invites you to dine with her, those are just polite formalities. You will find your convenience coming very shortly, and even if you just stood up from a meal you will abruptly find room to be peckish, or at least you will if you desire to have a future in the military.
Volantes Tribune Artemis Magnus Quirinus, commander of the 78th Infantry Legion's Epsilon Demi-Wing, was no martinet. Still, she expected all her squadron commanders to attend when she issued her summons, polite wording or not. The location she had chosen for today's meal was rife with hints about the true nature of this "impromptu get-together".
This was not a formal dinner that required mess dress uniforms, nor one requring the reservation of one of the Colonia Mursam Castramagnus' officers' dining rooms. Instead, the invitation was to an upscale restaurant just outside of downtown Victrix.
Stepping inside, I gave a short bow to the hostess, resplendent in her silk dress with intricate sash. A bouquet of both familiar and novel spices filled my nose. A further good sign, if only for my palate, was that the restaurant served Paymonish cuisine.
The western peninsula of Mursam had a rather large, if legally informal, colony from that Minor House. Over the generations, and adapting to local differences in food and climate, the Mursam Paymonish had started to diverge from their Diyu cousins.
I was led to a private room that with a good view of the bay. Three people were already waiting at the broad table: Quirinus; Prefect Centurion Caenis, her second and commander of First Squadron; and a third Prefect Centurion I didn't recognize.
On the shorter side but muscular and broad of shoulder, with short blue hair, and a rather demure set of grey horns, the new woman's wings were iridescent with blue-grey feathers. She gave me a calculating look. Putting her wine glass down, she bowed her horns to me. Ah, this must be the commander of Fourth Squadron; she looked younger than I expected, but still quite aggressive.
I gave her a quick but respectful nod, before bracing and saluting Quirinus. "Wonderful that you could make it;" the Tribune said by way of greeting, returning my salute, "please, sit."
I nodded and took one of the two empty seats.
"Countess, have you met Prefect Centurion Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang?"
"I have not had the pleasure," I said, giving the newly named HarrowFang a smile. The Legion Flier certainly looked tenacious, and pugnacious, enough to have earned the honor name Firmitas, even at her young age. "You've got one of our Sarpedona Squadrons?" I asked, out of politeness' sake.
Cold silver eyes twinkled. "Aye, and we've got something in common, DiamondDust."
"Oh? I've been out in a capital posting and been away from the real fight."
Fabia snorted. "Please. You're one of Artemis's girls. And she may be flying a prissy Harmonia suit, but she still makes sure her protégées all know how to get down in the mud."
"Ah," I glanced over and saw that Quirinus did not object to the familiarity. "There may have been some... popular embellishments to my-"
"Not that," Fabia cut me off. "I don't care about the crap and pap the capital and the brass-horns will serve up to try to get more tails in suits. I'm done dancing that dance. That said, we do have other things in common." She smirked as she sipped her wine, clearly enjoying dragging out the mystery. "Though my brats aren't quite as spoiled and noisome as yours."
Caenis shook her head. "Now, now, the countess only has to deal with one Flight of green pilots."
"My sympathies," I said sincerely, bowing my horns to Fabia in solidarity. "You have an entire cadre I take it?"
"Yeah," Fabia said, idly flipping the menu open. "My Flight Leaders are solid, and the girls are good, but it's still a green formation."
"You could have commanded Second Squadron," Quirinus said with a bit of resignation, clearly rehashing an old argument.
Fabia shook her head. "Nah, Julia is a good commander, but she still needs time to grow to her position."
"She's ten years older than you and has two more years time in-grade," Quirinus replied.
"I stand by my statement. Experience isn't just measured in time. Not everyone is as blessed by the Martyred Lady as our Countess."
"Or you?"
Fabia shrugged.
Evidently I still needed more practice. "I'm still quite new to all this," I said as the waitress came in and gave me some water. I managed to slip in na order for some amber tea before the uniformed server withdrew..
The ground-attack Legion Flier eyed me. "You're not the only one who got in early as a cadet. I just didn't make quite the same splash, fortunately. My actions weren't quite as evocative you see; no saving my noble mother, no making Ace in a day. As a result, the stories and plays with my so-called heroism died off within a year. And, thankfully, since I only saved hoof-sloggers, I never earned that cursed crown."
I tried to conceal my jealousy.
Fabia laughed, her sardonic humor spiced with sympathy. "Ah, so you have some sense after all. Wonderful."
"I managed to avoid having a Preserver Crown made for me for two and a half years," I stated obscurely pleased as I sipped my water. "How old were you?"
Fabia took a drink. "Thirteen. I'm Mursam, born and raised. Had a guild mistress, a cousin of my mother, who patronized my training, got me a cadet slot early. You know how it goes."
I nodded.
"And there was an exercise on Vikram; it was a wave-the-banner show off to try and up recruitment on that little secondary colony. Trosier tried to raid us. There wasn't much there but local colonial Auxilia." Fabia's face clouded but her expression twisted into a nasty fanged smile. "Unfortunately for them, we were doing a live-fire exercise and after the first combat losses, well... there was plenty of ammunition for those of us who were left."
"Ah, I guess I should not be shocked that something like that has happened before," I said as tactfully as I could. Border raids and brushfire wars were a constant if under-reported facet of BlackSky life, especially on the offworld colonies; notice of villages burned and civilians kidnapped did little to sell broadsheets and nothing to raise general morale, and generally slipped out of the awareness of any not directly involved.
Fabia played with her glass. "With an empire of our size, the emergence of a young Imperial heroine is a matter of statistics."
I tapped the table in thought. The evolution of a heroine could be calculated I thought, based on the number of cadets, the frequency of those cadets being exposed to safe missions, the fraction of said missions that turned out not to be safe after all, and other factors including how often the cadet lives and the odds they had a particularly noteworthy life story.
Given a bit of effort and access to enough data, it would be easy to calculate the window of probability in which the Powers that Be could expect a new heroine to emerge from the faceless morass of mission statements and loss reports. And once the emergence of such a media-ripe darling could be calculated, then it could be included as a factor for any propaganda campaign, any recruitment push...
Caenis snickered. "You don't have to try to work out the odds, Tauria."
Tail stiff, I gave an embarrassed nod to the head of First Squadron and pulled my head back out of the clouds. Such a model was a foolish idea anyway; pinning any major policy on such an unpredictable factor was individual heroism was absurd.
But given the right timing, and perhaps by ridding the deck in advance...
"Glory and fame are fleeting," Quirinus noted.
"That's a small mercy," a fifth voice drawled as a new figure was ushered into our room by the hostess. She had braided black hair, silver hooves, and with her skinny horns and a pair of slightly too big wings for her voluptuous frame, she looked more than a bit too young to be a squadron commander. There was also something off, about her accent. It was familiar somehow, but not in a way I could easily place.
Despite her youthful appearance, she was clearly at least ten years older than I was. Upon further inspection the impression of youth came at least somewhat from her deliberate, yet peculiarly weightless, almost floating, gait. When one wore a Ritual Plate one either had to deal with carrying a very heavy suit that weighed down your torso, and limbs or, when the suit's Zephyr were active, with controlling a suit with its mass buoyed by air spirits but that still possessed its full inertia. In neither case did Ritual Plate use lent itself towards such an airy step.
"Apologies, I got held up straightening out a supply issue with my Ritualista," the woman said in a slightly odd cadence, bowing her glossy green horns to Quirinus. It was then that I placed it; she had the smoother, more rounded vowels of a Luxon accent. It was not quite the flowing Otic I was exposed to in Bovitar, a border province butting up to House Luxon. No, this accent was slower than the accents around Great Bazala Lake in eastern Luxon; instead she had a bit more of the speech of someone from Yomi, Luxon's second city, in the central part of that House.
Interesting. I wondered if she was a refugee or had begged asylum. Perhaps her parents had been the immigrants. Even more interestingly, the woman walked as if she was still getting used to a set of flight armor, not as if she were an experienced pilot. I wondered if it was a deliberate affectation. Even my cadets had rather quickly abandoned any effort to exaggerate their strides.
"No worries; we haven't ordered yet," Quirinus said, gesturing to the open seat. "Everyone, this is Prefect Centurion Lady Julia JadeTalon, Second Squadron. Julia, these are your fellow squadron commanders: Caenis, my second in command, in charge of First Squadron; Countess Tauria DiamondDust with Third Squadron; and Fabia HarrowFang with Fourth, the other Sarpedona, Squadron."
"Charmed," Julia nodded to each of us. Her eyes did linger on me for a moment, perhaps surprised by my age.
We had time for a bit more small talk before the waitress came and took our orders. I decided to go with a savory and spicy shrimp soup, especially since VioletBlood had seemed eager to try the seafood here, which was a welcome break from her normally dismissive attitude to non-Diyu cuisine.
"What was the supply issue?" Caenis asked Julia.
Julia paused to roll her shoulders back. "Oh, just some cartridges for the portable etching and engraving systems for when Ritualista work in the field. There was a mix up when we came out here. Fortunately, I have solid Flight Leaders and the issue was found quickly; they just needed someone with a bit more shoulder-braid to push on supply."
"You're still down a couple Pilots?" Quirinus asked, leaning into the conversation.
Julia put down her own mug of fragrant narrow-leaf tea. A spicier blend that was popular in Khemi, Luxon's capital, but also everywhere else on the coast of the Great Bazala Lake, which included much of Eastern Province. I cursed my overactive paranoia; Quirinus did know and trust her. "Yes. I am supposed to get a pair from here, but..." Julia trailed off.
"The Countess is in a similar position; she's got a Flight coming all the way from Lantia."
"I'm hoping they at least managed to get off the moon by now and are waiting for transit on Diyu. That way they don't have as much distance to catch-up," I said, doing my best to contribute to the conversation. I was still immensely thankful for the pull Quirinus seemed to have as a new minted Tribune. Her reputation, as deserved as it was, must have helped her get some status for her requisitions and personnel needs. As a consequence, transit orders and supply requisitions were being met with unusual speed.
"Especially if, or when, we get sent to some other colony and the distance increases?" Fabia dryly asked. "At least they're not green, purportedly." Her tail swished with amusement.
Julia nodded. "I'm lucky. I got assigned to a squadron that had only three gaps due to Legionnaires' terms ending. Granted, one was their previous Squadron Commander, and Demeter left some big boots to fill, but I have all my Flight Leaders."
I made polite noises of agreement. I could see why Fabia was assigned the Sarpedona Squadron of rookies and Julia had the experienced ground-attack unit. Tribune Quirinus was trying to strike a good balance with her pilots' and officers' relative levels of experience. The real upside of all that was that we had a surplus of experienced Ritualista and our new maintenance personnel were learning from them at a good rate.
Amid more small talk and, thankfully informal, ice breakers, our food came and we got a bit more comfortable as we settled down to eat our meals. Fabia did have a knack as a raconteur and was able to tell some rather colorful stories, and, despite her relative inexperience, Julia had a good eye for detail.
Far from the worst comrades to serve beside, I decided. So far, my fellow officers seemed like a professional bunch, yet still willing and able to relax in non-professional settings. Compared to some of the professional pains in the ass back in the Imperial army, they're practically the souls of easy comedy.
As our meals started to wind down, Quirinus tapped her glass and our private room fell silent. "Now, I still haven't heard official word on where we will deploy, but I have been given assurances that we will have time to work up our squadrons, muster a full headcount, and have time to train as a Wing."
We all gave light chuckles at the value of assurances.
Our Tribune gave a slight smile. "Quite. While I don't have an official word on our next action; I would recommend those of you new to the colonies look into the history of Harp's World."
I concealed a sigh. There were certainly worse places we could be sent, but Harp's World was a morass, and not even one of our colonies. I also pushed down the flash of guilt that I would have to take her advice as my knowledge of that place was cursory at best. I cursed myself for doing insufficient research and trying to focus on what colonies I presumed we would have to protect.
Let that be a lesson, I told myself sternly. Always expect an out of context assignment when things are running too smoothly.
"We're going to Ziox's Folly?" Fabia asked.
Julia seemed a bit perplexed. "I thought it was called the Great Alecton Write-off?"
"And the Trosic Scrap Harbor." Caenis picked at her meal. "It has a lot of names."
"I've been focusing on familiarizing myself with our colonies, worlds that are one jump from our colonies, and critical enemy holdings. Was a new route to Harp's World discovered recently?" I asked trying to figure out why we would be sent so far afield. One of the main tasks of the Cartographers was to find routes between various worlds, as discovering a "shortcut" could bypass defenses, early warning systems, or simply shorten routes. If a new route had been discovered, our assignment as part of a new element sent to secure that route would make sense...
"No, there was no route change. So, hypothetically, if we were to go there it would be by indirect means: via Vikram to Alecto's rather... sparse colony of Forlorn Prospect and the Alecton hub world of New Batavia."
"Ziox's only significant off-world colony isn't a critical enemy holding?" Fabia asked, giving me a teasing look.
"You're the one who called it Ziox's Folly," I replied, not at all waspishly.
"Why is that? What happened there? I know Alecto sunk a lot into it, and I presume made even more money out of it. Why did Ziox let them in? Were they that desperate?" Julia asked.
"In short, yes. It's the consequence of repeated efforts to keep a failing colony operational," Quirinus said before chewing a dumpling. "Harp's World was full of potential, good mining assays, with various minerals, metals, and some rare arcane prospects, middling landmass, but what was there had great potential for cropland, and good climate. Overall, ideal for colonization, save that they didn't have a direct route there from Diyu and still haven't found one. Ziox had it all to themselves for a long time."
"That's where the problems started. It's the typical story: colonists and settlers wanted to get out from under the bickering Great Houses, only to realize that the Dictatrix's agents were right behind them and wanted to ensure that their new world's economy would profit Ziox," Fabia said before eating more of her curry and battered fish. "And of course, in the time honored tradition, the people most interested in xeno-colonization are the ones least invested in supporting their former home."
"There was a resistance movement?" Julia asked, digging into the spicy bed of shrimp fried rice and mixed vegetables with a beef broth.
"A completely organic one, yes. It's not like the Household Fleet has been seen operating on Harp's World beyond the occasional show-the-flag visit," Caenis assured in a pointedly dry tone while forking a piece of her steak-like cut of fish. We all knew that the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance was more than willing to meddle in the affairs of other Houses and we all knew that the Household Fleet had a small selection of, discreet and small, airships at the beck and call of august organizations like CSR, or the Palace Librarians.
That said, it certainly sounds like our spook shave no shortage of martial to work with already waiting for them on Harp's World.
"Ziox was quite new to the off-world colony game when they settled Harp's World," I commented, taking a guess based on what little I had read about the disputed colony in question, "and I'm sure that certain Great Houses on their border would not want a stronger House Ziox".
Fabia smiled. "Quite so. Ziox was soon faced with a choice: abandon the colony or go bankrupt trying to keep it under control while also building up infrastructure. Paying for the same refinery over and over again gets rather costly, and shipping in food for your occupation forces is not a good long term prospect."
"But they picked a third option?" Julia ventured, her confidence growing. "That's when they opened settlement on Harp's World up to other Houses, but... not Alecto?"
Fabia laughed. "Correct, although that was sort of recognition of the pre-exiting state of affairs more than a real change in policy. Alecton rates on investing in an area under open revolt were too much for Ziox at the time. House Trosier on the other hand...."
"Made efforts that were only desultory at best, and generally kept to their own enclaves," Quirinus added. "The armada had narrow ambitions but was willing to take advantage and help a dear ally."
"But that got the ball rolling, right? Ziox got more funds out of their concessions and..." I paused to recall. "They started granting local autonomy to the settlers, didn't they?"
"They had to. After the last Great House War scuttled their dreams of sweeping over central Diyu, Ziox was left in a bad enough position, at least in the near term. They had to do something to stop hemorrhaging money, material, and lives, and xeno-world colonies are edge budget items to divest when the cuts come calling. Pacifying Harp's World became utterly untenable when the post-war austerity hit." Fabia gave a slight chuckle. "Though their pride was loath to admit to it, Ziox did relent. That much red ink has a way of making even stubborn necks bend."
No wonder Samoth focused on mercenary work for Diyu Minor Houses; Harp's World probably had plenty of opportunity for work, but the locals likely had no love for their erstwhile masters, which greatly increased the risk with no commensurate increase in profit. Anathema to a mercenary.
"Placating the locals was only part of it," Fabia continued. "They needed more investment, more people, more resources, more than they could scrape up from within Ziox."
"House Ziox is not exactly long on friends," Lady Julia noted with a smugness that was rather typical of our kind, although I did note she seemed to hold a special animosity for House Ziox. If her origins were as I thought, I could easily understand why.
"Especially with Trosier being miserly, only transporting the minimal number of rust-buckets to secure their enclaves, and Irkella focused on their own imperial colonies," Fabia agreed, taking an unmistakable glee in Trosier's woes.
Julia's violet eyes lit up. "That's how Alecto got involved! Harp's World stabilized enough to be worth their while!"
"Not just them, Elena got involved too, right?" I ventured testing my recollections and cursing my insufficient diligence as I heard my own hesitancy. "Though not as much, mostly to secure access to choice pharmacological and alchemical extractions?"
"Correct, both of you." Quirinus gave a nod of approval. "Things progressed from there, autonomy became independence over time. Territories fractured and fought, but by that point there was enough Great House investment to put a lid on local affairs... vehemently."
"And thus Harp's World became home to two colonial Minor Houses. House Douha with House Ziox and, to a lesser extent, House Trosier as patrons, and House Umic with Alecto and, to a lesser extent, House Elena as patrons," Fabia explained whilst finishing up her plate. "And all the involved Great Houses also maintain territorial enclaves. Not to mention the various fragmenting Free Cities."
"And... we might be going to this snake pit?" Julia asked with exasperation.
"Welcome to the offworld colonies," Fabia announced grandly with a broad smirk.
"I didn't hear anything about House BlackSky's involvement in this mess," Julia point out, with the air of someone probing a contract's article in search for a way out.
"I am greatly reassured that even without the pressures of Diyu itself, our people's standards of diplomacy and harmony continue," I replied with false levity to ritual amusement around the table. Even with the potential of vast territory already under our talons, our Houses would squabble, bicker, and bleed, spending more and more into a colony that would almost certainly never generate sufficient provides to balance the sheet in the next century. Sunk cost upon sunk cost, all reason blinded by pride and ego and a need to always contest every scrap of territory over which another banner flew.
"What kind of resources - that is, military assets - do Houses Douha and Umic have?" Julia asked, eyes serious as she scanned the faces of the senior commanders present. And also mine.
"I don't have the exact numbers memorized but by Minor House standards they're populous and fairly coherent, so good in infantry but lacking in heavier equipment. No off-world capability, air assets aren't bad, mostly fixed wing, but not much in the way of carriers or large ships of any kind," Fabia shrugged. "Generally short-ranged projection if they extend outside of their enclaves at all."
"Douha is larger but worse off, as their patrons don't have as much to sell and are less inclined to make them stronger; Ziox likely still dreams of 'reunification' and doesn't feel like nurturing any impediments to that end," Quirinus said, with a wry smile as she dug into to her salad. The Tribune had a habit of eating her greens last, just before dessert.
"Meanwhile Umic is smaller and Alecto will be happy to sell them whatever they want, either for hard currency, trade, or leasing mineral rights." Fabia shook her head. "What would be our role there? If any Great House were to play peacemaker on Harp's World it would be Elena," she said before her tail flicked, understanding blossoming in her eyes. "Oh."
"That is speculative," Quirinus sternly stated. "Though it is known that the Great Houses who patronize Harp's World do keep... reasonable garrisons."
"Can we speculate as to our, theoretical of course, role? Epsilon Wing has considerable air to ground capability. If this was just an air action, or a large target, why not Fleet assets?" I asked sipped my tea contemplatively and pointedly not meeting anybody else's eyes.
Picking up her wine glass Fabia nodded along. "Yes, the girls in their spiffy white uniforms are good as long as the enemy is large and slow or small and fast. Anything in between or on the ground is why the Imperatrix has us Legionaries."
Julia idly toyed with her own cup, lost in thought. "Four squadrons is a fair bit to move, that'll take at least a Mellona Medium carrier. Or maybe a Damocles Light and a Kolibri Patrol carrier."
"And that's not even taking whatever ground assets we'd be supporting into consideration," Caenis added in a tone so pointedly mild I wondered what she knew that we did not.
"I don't know if we will be sent there," Quirinus said, giving us all measured looks. "But I want us to be operating as a cohesive unit one that can provide significant, precise, powerful ground support on demand while also defending ourselves from aerial counterattack."
I spooned up some more of my soup as I turned the matter over in my head, savoring the savory and salty broth. That little nugget all but confirmed we would be supporting some type of ground operation, which was admittedly the general remit of a Legionary Flier and thus not a significant surprise.
"Do we have a timeline? Even a vague one?" Julia asked with the air of a woman already making plans in her head. "It would be good to know how much training time I have with my girls."
That was a very good question. It would make a big difference if we were shipping out tomorrow, next week, or next month.
Quirinus smiled indulgently as she looked over us, clearly enjoying the finger of brandy left in her crystal flute. "I can't give you a firm answer, but we should get at least a month before embarkation. As I am sure you have all surmised, we won't be the only assets tapped for this role."
I kept in a tiny frown. Unless the mission were very short and we'd quickly make it back home, I was likely to spend my birthday and even the Feast of DarkStar out on Harp's World. Though it would take a lot for eitehr to be worse than my thirteenth birthday, spent out in the Crocelli jungles, let alone all the birthdays of my previous life spent out in the Rhine Front or other muddy hell-holes.
"And they'll need training too?" Fabia asked. "Another new unit? Or a specialized mission?"
Quirinus gave a thin smile. "It would be rather risky to have all freshly founded units sent out on a mission."
That caused a generally pensive reaction from us. BlackSkyvian doctrine, developed over centuries, frequently made for complicated ground missions. Of all the mission types that doctrine accounted for, there were few operations more fraught and intricate than a contested landing. Indeed, the Imperial Legions specialized in the sort of air assault often paired with those landings, that is, deploying anything from a Century to Cohort to Legion to Corpus Incursio to assist the hoof-sloggers in their efforts to bite and hold. And now our Tribune was implying that we might be going to Harp's World to support something above that already-high bar.
With only four Squadrons involved, the ground component had to be a few Cohorts at most, also called a Vexillatio, in size. Unless other RP assets would be attached at a further date, of course. The number of Legionaries involved would be even smaller than that scant handful if our Squadrons were tasked with providing heavy fire support in lieu of armored vehicles, as was often done in raids where mobility and a quick egress were of primary importance.
"What about an opportunity to train and coordinate with these hypothetical other units?" I asked, keeping the concern out of my voice. I was not sure what our mission would be, but based on our numbers I suspected we would not be part of a conventional invasion.
And while it was reassuring that my House was likely not going to jump into a pit with half a dozen other factions as part of some grandiose imperial land-grab, I had a personal and acute worry about the kind of operations my House would conduct with a small number of RP Squadrons. A Demi-wing could facilitate a lot of BlackSkyvian skullduggery.
"I am trying to get that arranged, sooner rather than later," Quirinus assured, seemingly taking in my concerns.
"If scheduling does not allow for this we will have to lean on our standard training and the expectation Legionaries have for their Legion Fliers," Caenis said piously.
Julia and Fabia both gave her minutely aggrieved gazes as their tails flicked. There was nothing insubordinate in their brief glares, but I could understand why the Sarpedona Pilots would feel they were more familiar with supporting the poor hoof-slogger than some Harmonia fly-girl.
I was not so perturbed, in part because I knew Caenis was not trying to be patronizing, but also because I knew her personally. I had fought beside the Prefect Centurion and I knew she had experience giving precise fire-support and had been eager to learn and apply my training improvements during our time back at FOB EmeraldInferno. "There are a few methods we can apply to help with our training, even if we can't work with the forces we'll be supporting before the fact."
"Yes, I have tried some of the methods you developed last year. It's a good refinement, ideal for small units that have dedicated support," Fabia confirmed, nodding as she telegraphed support in front of the two other commanders present.
Quirinus gave me a sharp smile.
"Ah, then perhaps I can give a lecture on the subject or..." I glanced around the table. "Set up a training scenario based around it after you've had time to instruct your squadrons?" I offered, adjusting my schedule on the fly.
"That would be excellent," Julia said, nodding along with an appreciative smile. Clearly, she grasped the conclusion our Tribune had led us to reach. I had my suspicions why she was unable, or unwilling, to tell us exactly where we were going or what kind of forces we would be supporting, and they were not pleasant.
"If you'll forgive me, I may have been threatening my rookies with your reputation, Countess, both facing your squadron and your training exercises," Fabia's smile turned icy. "Please tell me you won't disappoint and your fancy girls will be set up in ground-attack configuration for such an exercise?"
I returned with a toothy grin. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Quirinus sipped some of her plum brandy, a sly smile dancing on her wet lips. "Fabulous. I thought the four of you would get along. I am sure we shall accomplish great things together."
++++++++++
A gaggle of broodlings watched me, wide-eyed. Attention rapt, their tails swished as they sat around me in a loose semi-circle. I held a folded paper figure in each hand and used them to simulate the position of myself and my wingwoman. Overhead, my Zephyr blew around four more bits of folded paper.
"And then what?" a too-adorable orphan with brown hair in pigtails asked.
"She killed them all, dummy!" a younger broodling with long amethyst hair said waspishly.
"PurpleFire, language!" snapped the stern Sister standing behind them.
I held up a hand, idly twisting the folded shape that represented myself. "It's possible that my war stories might be over-stimulating them," I admitted as overeager air spirits decided to spin the enemy Flight up into a curving climb and down into a strafing run over the broodlings, much to their amusement.
"You have been telling... cleaned up tales." The Sister sniffed, though she smiled fondly at the display. "And I suppose that keeps them more engaged than if you had come to quote scripture at them."
"Still, I think we're getting close to lunch-time." I bowed my horns and with a slip of concentration some of the paper figures began to glide down to the grass. My wings ruffled and all the figures began to rise up again on renewed currents. That I was at the orphanage in my capacity as a Legionary Flier meant I could thankfully wear my uniform instead of my novitiate sister habit. There were many reasons I had no interest in proselytizing to these girls.
"But how did you defeat the nasty Diluvians?" PurpleFire whined, eager to hear the end of my story.
"Okay, I'll finish it up," I said, waving my hand in a placating gesture, simultaneously tossing out a handful more figures to be caught by my Zephyr. Made of scrap paper, the figures were folded much like a paper airplane and could similarly glide like quite nicely, but in a concession to my story were vaguely demon shaped.
Resuming my story, I started to pace. The colorful paper cloud swirled around me, and as I regaled the children with stories of ardent glory, I could reflect that Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor had a point. Here I was, telling stories of BlackSkyvian aggression and might to entice young war orphans to one day sign up for the service, to quest after honor and renown in the same uniforms their parents might once have worn.
After all, was I not an example of how an orphan raised by Our Hallowed Lady could go on to achieve great things? And didn't the martial glory I exemplified in their young eyes give a meaning to a life robbed of relations and family, left to the Church to raise and one day advance the cause of the House onwards?
The bloodthirsty little terrors cheered when my story reached its brutal crescendo and they mobbed over the figures that represented each fallen enemy flier to claim their prizes. The tatters of shredded papers rose where those prizes fell into dispute, each combatant striving to seize that which was rent asunder by their efforts.
The petty savagery of greedy little demons aside, it was nice to use this skill for something entertaining. Using my Zephyr for this style of minute control was something I had figured out towards the tail-end of my rotation as a cadet instructor. It was an amusing turn that I would use it first to awe broodling before I use it to overawe my House's foes.
Glancing up at the orphanage's clock tower, Sister Dignitas at last clapped her hands. "Girls, time to wash up for lunch. Thank the Prefect Centurion Countess for her time."
The broodlings, thankfully all younger than myself, bowed their horns before scrambling back up to their feet. Picking up my case, I handed out the remainder of the paper figures I had made to ensure that each got at least one intact poppet. I also handed out some small gift sets of chocolates, crayons, chew-sticks, and a couple DarkStar coloring books. Practical gifts like socks would be given later. We were in a partially-enclosed courtyard that overlooked some undulating fields to the south of Mursam Victrix.
"Looks like rain," I conversationally said as the Sister watched her charges make their way back inside the stone building. Remarkably solid, it dated to not far past the colony's founding.
Tail flicking, Dignitas glanced up at the sky. "Perhaps; you would know," she said, her tone a bit tight. She was a tall, austere woman with just a tinge of violet to her features. The Sister's duty was a challenging one, given the biological, and developmental, dependencies broodlings had.
"I am sorry for imposing and distracting the girls."
"Oh, it's not that," she said as we followed the orphans inside.
Entering the plain foyer, I frowned. Perhaps she was worried about the negative influence of my presence.
"Countess, a moment?" a merry voice asked respectfully.
"Of course, Reinhild," I said, giving a slight bow of my horns to the kitsune. I put the now-empty wooden crate by her feet among the others.
"I trust your aide's work has concluded?" the Sister asked me. "But... were all of those forms really necessary? I don't think I've ever seen their like before..."
"The paperwork is all in order," the maid assured her while giving me a tiny nod. She carried a briefcase for papers and several large cases for later on. Only one contained socks and other sartorial sundries.
Well, that was one less matter to worry about. "I do apologize, Sister," I explained, turning to the nun. "But given my age, a tithe at such a level has to get the approval of my seneschal and my Duchess. I even had to go through the same process to become a patron of the orphanage that raised me."
"Ah, I suppose that does make sense." The sister seemed mollified with my excuse.
It helped that it was the truth, technically. While Duchess SilverFlight and Seneschal Alexi Frugi would have to approve the funding, when it came to supporting a Church-sponsored orphanage I doubted they would do anything but rubber-stamp my request. However, I wanted to make sure the Sisters were not skimming funds, abusing the system, or engaged in any other malfeasance. Hence, setting a fox into their - fiscal - henhouse under the guise of due diligence.
"Well, let us go in and have some lunch; it is simple fare but...." Dignitas caught herself. "You would know, I suppose."
"Honest and filling," I agreed and put on a smile. "Besides, some of the rations in the Legions made me quite homesick."
I sat with the sisters and it was less awkward than I feared. It helped that the stew was good and the bread was fresh and the broodlings were getting plenty. One upside of going to Church functions with my Mother Clementia as a novitiate was that I learned how to make ecclesiastical small-talk.
"You've really brightened up the girls' day," a Sister sitting across from Dignitas said.
"I'm happy to have given some small measure of help; you have been wonderful hosts," I said, dabbing my napkin to my lips. "Being here reminds me of home." I took a moment to realize that was... true.
"What is the City of Trees like?"
"Silvana is bustling; it has some lovely cathedrals and history, but it can be very busy, almost overwhelming," I admitted, worried about how open I was being with the sisters. I concentrated on my lunch, hoping the conversation would return to dormancy.
"The chapel won't be used for a couple hours." Sister Dignatas offered, seemingly misreading my apprehension. "If you would like some private worship, we can make it available."
"That... I would be honored for such an opportunity," I said with a smile. Some quiet time alone would be a good way to wrap up this visit. I would avoid having to tell more impressionable young broodlings about the Legions and Ritual Plate.
As the meal concluded, I tried to help cleanup and police the dishes. However, Reinhild practically shoved me out of the kitchen seizing the load of bowls from my hands as she "escorted" me out of the way, and I soon found myself in the orphanage's modest chapel bereft of any task I could assist with.
Built from the same cut stone as the rest of the complex, the chapel was a humble affair, which was a reassuring statement on fiscal priorities. Though I found I could not begrudge the sisters for having spent a bit extra on comfortable pews. The chapel had a hushed presence and light shone in through the stained-glass windows. Plaques on the bottom of the ones on either side of the nave proudly listed the notables of Mursam who had donated generously to the orphanage over the years.
I brushed past those and went to the altar and knelt in the light of the four pointed star in the center of the large window over the altar. Simple, almost abstract statuary made up much of the altars accoutrements along with a rather modest reliquary to one side.
Moving by familiar rote I lit candles for my late adoptive sister, my birth parents, and made the requisite donations befitting my station and the social obligation of charity. With a bit of will, I lit the candles and put them with the other offerings. The flames burned purple-red and flickered for a moment before steadying.
Aged wood beams supported the roof far above my head. Hanging from the seasoned wood were endless banners bearing the names of all of the orphans who had passed through this institution. The banners rustled in a slight breeze that I couldn't feel so far below them as I knelt in front of the altar again and let the peacefulness of the place overtake me. The chapel had much of the same comfortable, timeless serenity as the rest of the orphanage.
My wings twitched as my hands clasped tighter. In quiet moments like this, I truly felt my age, both physical and mental. Familiar words mechanically crossed my lips as I beseeched the long-gone DarkStar for wisdom, tenacity, and grace. In truth, I wondered what the real DarkStar, the demon instead of the venerated goddess, would have thought of the worshipful cult that had spring up around her memory. When... no if she returned, per the dogma, what would her reaction be to the religion which had grown around her and all the things done in her name?
Religion had been a key part of the cultural bonding and civic rituals common across all three of my lives. While my participation in the rituals of my first life had been entirely performative, my relationship with religion in my second life had bee much more contentious. Adversarial even, Being X had demanded I comply with its wishes or die. No contract made under such duress could be considered binding, and like in my first life not a hint of sincerity entered my rituals.
Suddenly, my mind sprang from meditative calm to sharp-eyed clarity as a tiny bit of warmth radiated from my earrings as they filled with just a bit more energy. Above me, the name-dripping banners whipped a bit in a phantom wind and my tail stilled as I felt a presence drawing close.
For a horrified movement I thought the archangel might appear, disturbing this moment.
Instead, the door at the far end of the nave opened, revealing a woman waiting at the threshold. She was not one of the sisters nor anyone else I had met today. I finished my obeisance, stood back up, and turned around and tried not to give her a gimlet stare.
Given that the woman looked away, clearly I had failed. "Ma'am!" She saluted. "I apologize for disturbing you!"
Striding across the nave as the candles flickered anew, I studied the woman. She was quite tall, willowy without being gaunt. She had long glossy hair with somewhat messy bangs. Her legs were long enough that, despite my decided lack of vanity, even I felt a pang of jealousy. She must have been just under the maximum height limit for the sizes Ritual Plate components were produced in. I could sympathize given I was towards the other end, but not as close as I had been before I had started to grow taller in my teen years. Alas, my Vs had also continued to grow, which was... not entirely a negative, even if they still towered over me.
Sharp-featured to almost patrician levels, my visitor had a narrow chin and calculating amethyst eyes. Her tailfins, horns, and hooves were gold and she looked down before she met my gaze with a flash of hauteur that I found rather familiar, perhaps from long experience with troublesome aristocrats. But that quickly passed as she took in the chapel. It was still but for the flickering candles and rusting banners. Based on some sort of internal calculation, she opted to give me a gracious smile that was only slightly tinged with apprehension, which was also rather familiar...
Ah, I did know her. "Primus Centurion Lucia Hood?" I asked, returning the salute with a tilt of my head and flick of my wrist.
"Yes, Ma'am!" she replied eagerly, glancing over to the tiered rack of votive candles with their purple flames as she did so. Odd, was she unfamiliar with the symbolism?
This was the head of my new third Flight. I had been told to expect her in two days, which would have been a week after the Squadron Commander dinner where Quirinus had hinted at our deployment. Stranger and stranger, as Lucia was BlackSkyvian and stationed on the Moon of Lantia, so she should have some familiarity with the Church of DarkStar.
My eyes narrowed at the towering demon before me, all sharp edges and darting eyes.
"You're impressively early. Do you have your routing orders?" I asked affecting, a casual tone. It might have been paranoia, but I wanted a measure of assurance that I was not talking to someone who had merely taken the form of my subordinate and purloined a Legionary uniform with the markings of Primus Centurion with the Volantes specialty.
Looking to the altar, she quickly made the four points of DarkStar's eponymous star over her chest. It was not a gesture that the Order of the Hallowed Lady, the faith I was raised in, used for everyday ceremonies, but others, such as the Order of the Martyred Lady, did use it as a part of their routine obeisance.
"Sorry!" Lucia opened her slim messenger case and pulled out a missive.
I took it and read. The orders were valid and an idle trace of my finger elicited the correct magical responses from the various seals. More reassuring was that a memo slip was added to the order stack. With the heading "3rd Squadron, Epsilon Wing, 78th Legion", it was one of the lot Reinhild had ordered for my command.
I paused; when had I become the type of officer to bring her own servant to a combat posting? Stationary and staffing aside, the memo was signed by Visha, who said she had started integrating Flight Three's personnel and equipment. The suspicious part of me noted that someone could still have waylaid the real Centurion Hood and taken both the documentation and her form.
"My second told you where to find me?" I asked, folding the orders up and offering them back.
"Yes, Primus Shadow was quite helpful, but no, please keep them," Lucia said with her tail idly swishing. "After I gave her the status reports and maintenance logs for my Flight and made our introductions, I asked if I could meet with you." She somehow made the routine request sound like it was some dearly held wish on her part.
"And... she sent you out here?" I asked, keeping my tone level as I slipped the communiqué and orders into a hidden pocket on my uniform blouse. I might have to give Visha a quiet word about boundaries.
"I'm not surprised that you're at an orphanage. Myself and my younger sister had conflicts with our mothers but..." Lucia trailed off awkwardly, clearly aware that she had made a blunder and equally unclear about how to extract her hoof from that hole. After a moment, she opted for blunt sincerity. "And I am sorry to disturb you at prayers!"
"No need." I waved it off and pondered on her fidgeting disquiet. "If you're not comfortable here, we can step outside. House BlackSky is pluralistic and I have members of many faiths in my Squadron."
Lucia gave a graceful, but practiced, smile. "Oh no, Ma'am, I'm a member. I'm not that pious but..." Her admission came with an unconscious step back. "But I did do some joint missions with an Andromachin Pilot who was also a chaplain, so I am used to those of a fervent belief."
I laughed, understanding just what she meant. "Well, you don't need to worry; I'm not that religious either. I'm clearly not one for proselytizing..." I slowed as I remembered my recent encounter with the broodlings, and amended my statement with, "for the Church."
Looking around at the nave and altar again, Lucia gave an obliging nod. "I am a tiny bit surprised to see you being so deeply engaged in a chapel like this and not a grand cathedral."
"Oh, I've been to the cathedrals in the City of Trees. They are nice, but overstated. I prefer the small honest chapels like this one; it reminds me of my childhood," I said, my tone reassuring. I did not want my new subordinate to think I was someone obsessed with pomp and ritual.
Lucia nodded dutifully.
"How did your Flight get in so early?" I idly asked.
"I managed to get us a slot on a Teleport Gateway," she replied with deserved pride. Providing a direct point to point transit, Gateways were always in high demand and their considerable throughput would be used for critical assets in spite of their limitations.
Weighing over a hundred tons and very expensive, Gateways had to be built in twinned pairs which could only teleport items between each other. Requiring considerable shipboard power or a dedicated power-plant, they also had to be retuned whenever one of the pair was moved. The least restrictive part was the size of the teleportation chamber which objects had to fit fully within; just about everything in the Imperial Legion's inventory could fit. From artillery pieces to trucks, from tanks to Umbra VTOLs, almost every piece of gear could be maneuvered to fit into the chamber. The Household Fleet was less lucky.
Regardless, a Gateway pair was an excellent line of communication that allowed for the transit over four thousand tons per day one way or half that if items and people were being shipped in both directions.
"And how did you manage that?" I asked. "Did you get a direct transfer from Lantia to here?" The Gateways linking the Colonia Mursam Castramagnus back to major bases on Diyu were very busy. As were the Gateways linking the Primus Anchorage to Diyu, but maybe the links between Lantia and Mursam weren't as busy.
"It was a bit of lucky timing and cashing out some favors with the girls in the embarkation facility." Lucia's smile faded. "It's not like they'll do me any good out here. I tell you, I've done plenty of teleporting but going via Gateway feels more... intense and focused, you know?"
"I haven't had the experience; this is my first time off Diyu," I admitted, affecting a casual tone. The charging and cool down times to go from Lantia to Diyu and Diyu to Mursam would add up to about a full day. Another day could easily be added in time, waiting at the Anchorage, then unloading at a base in Diyu, waiting to board an outgoing airship, and unloading in Mursam. "But glad to hear you were able to save time, that'll give us a leg up on training."
Lucia seemed surprised at my lack of colonial experience, but she hid it politely enough. "Yes Ma'am, I promise my Flight shall not slow you down. We are poised and prepared," she promised eagerly with a reassuring, almost courtly, diction.
I gave an encouraging smile. Primus Centurion Hood was experienced and her file brimmed with glowing recommendations, but I made a mental note to make sure her exuberance did not lead her into trouble. I had enough trouble as it was, worrying about LoveBlood, who I was certain would be trying to prove her Flight of greenhorns were worthy in short order. "Do you mind if we talk outside?"
Guilt flashed over Lucia's face as she studied the altar. "I'd like to, um..." Tail flicking, her eyes went to the votive candles merrily burning. "Have a moment to say some prayers first."
"Of course, I'm so sorry for being presumptive," I assured. "Please, take all the time you need."
"Thank you, Ma'am." Lucia gave a tiny laugh. "And don't worry, I never thought you, of all people, would get in the way of obeisance."
"Perish the thought. If you'll excuse me," I said before making my way down the aisle to the back doors to the chapel. Reinhild was waiting there for me, tails swishing.
The kitsune watched the centurion make her way to the front row of pews over my shoulder as she asked, "A new subordinate?"
"It looks that way." I passed Reinhild the routing orders and Visha's message. "Do you have it?"
After inspecting the paperwork, the maid's more-vulpine-than-usual grin turned somber as she lifted up the large cases she carried, one in each hand, by the rope handles stapled to their lids.
"Good," I said, existing the chapel and letting the door ghost shut behind Reinhild, "we have time for a little trip."
Reinhild nodded thoughtfully. "Are you concerned about this new centurion?"
"Should I be?" I quietly asked. We were thankfully alone in this part of the orphanage.
"I can't say, Ma'am, but if this isn't one of the memo sheets I ordered for you then it is an exquisite forgery, as are the orders and Visha's handwriting. Still..."
Tail flicking I gave Lucia a final look before stepping into the corridor beyond the chapel. "She looks like my third Flight Leader and has the uniform and paperwork."
Reinhild SunShower shrugged.
"I'm just being cautious. When we get back to base, I can confirm she is who she is," I explained as we walked a bit further down the hallway and looked out a set of windows onto the grounds. The sky had turned overcast but it did not feel like rain just yet. Good.
"Prudent," my maid remarked, her voice diffident without a hint of reproach.
I sighed. "She is promising, and it will be nice to have my Squadron up to strength."
"But?" Reinhild asked
"She's not a rookie, thank DarkStar, but Primus Hood is still young and keen."
"And you prefer cynical subordinates tempered by experience," Reinhild said in the overly proper tone servants cultivated to deniably imply impertinence.
"We shall see."
"Maybe she's intimidated by finally meeting an Imperial Hero and is trying to puff herself up."
"She's a foot and a half taller than me."
"All the more reason to paint herself as sufficiently hard-charging to someone she sees as a young, pious, and aggressive leader."
My tail curled as I saw the logic. Fear of not impressing the boss could cause all sorts of cascading problems in an organization. "Perhaps," I allowed.
Patting me on the shoulder in a gesture that was not a hug, the kitsune smiled and stepped back.
Turning, I walked back to the chapel and found that Lucia had lit a votive candle and was crossing the nave towards the door, where Reinhild and I stood. She looked oddly serene as the banners fluttered above her and a gust of wind went past her to circle around me before turning quiescent. Purple eyes widened slightly, she saluted again, baring her neck and motioning with her fingers. "Thank you for your patience, Ma'am."
I returned the gesture. "Come, let's have a walk outside before it starts to rain."
"As you say!" Her eyes went to Reinhild.
"This is Miss SunShower; a Rorarri Auxilia Scout and my aide." I tried to sound offhand.
Seemingly transfixed by the waving fluffy tails, the tall Legionary Flier nodded and quietly followed us down the hall, out a set of doors, and down some steps. Thank DarkStar someone on my staff, other than LoveBlood, was accepting of having a maid around.
"What got you to agree to a transfer to a colonial position?" I asked as we walked down the pathway that skirted past the orphanage's vegetable gardens and meandered out roughly towards the orchards. Reinhild had slipped behind us and with a subtle enough nudge got the dark-haired pilot walking next to me instead of dogging my foosteps.
"Have you ever been to Lantia?" She winced. "Sorry, you said this is your first time off Diyu."
"No apologies," I said soothingly with a warm smile. "I was ambiguous; some do think of Lantia and Emuria as part of Diyu, that is if the colloquial definition of Diyu as our Homeplane instead of Diyu as the continent is used." I looked up into the mostly cloudy sky. "I'm still getting used to looking up and seeing only one small moon."
"I was told that not seeing Diyu above us could be disconcerting. That's part of why I wanted the transfer."
"Ah, 'Join the Legions and see the Worlds'?" I chuckled.
"Getting a broader experience base does help in many ways. " Lucia's hair billowed behind her like a banner as she nodded enthusiastically.
"Such as for promotions?" I asked, keeping my tone open.
She nodded. "And my sister wants me to describe to her all the places I'll go."
My tail swished. Well, someone who wanted a more exciting posting to help her career was less risky than someone who wanted more excitement for glory's sake. "Tell me about your Pilots."
"Beyond their dossiers and their Polyxos' maintenance logs, I presume?"
"Just so."
Lucia nodded. "Charity's my wingwoman: solid, experienced flier. She has a wife and twins; cute girls that just hit their teens..." Lucia trailed off as her gaze went down to survey me.
"It's alright," I reassured her, long since familiar with this particular song and dance, "I've had years in the Legions to get used to people noting my age."
"It's not that," the Primus Centurion coughed awkwardly into her hand. "Not exactly. I think Charity's going to ask for maternity leave... Not until, um... What season is it here? Seasons are different up on Lantia, but..."
I laughed. "Early fall. And don't worry. I still feel like it should be spring."
"Yes, we've got a year before it should be an issue," she said as we walked uphill and reached the orchards. The bare trees rustled.
I gave a shrug. Getting maternity leave was a complex process in the Legions. The main part was time in grade but your commander's recommendations could really put a talon on the scale. "Will she be bringing her dependents here?"
"She already put in for on-base housing for them," Lucia said, before breathing in with sudden appreciation. "Oh, that's a lovely view!"
For a moment the three of us silently looked out over the ocean in the distance; the view was part of why I wanted to go on this little walk. "Primus, I don't want to ask this, but do you think Centurion Charity BreezeFlower is at risk of getting pregnant without leave?"
The wide-eyed, horrified reaction Lucia gave was exceptionally open and aghast. "Of course not! She'd never do a thing like that. I was just warning you that she does plan to have more children and her term will be up in a couple years so if she doesn't get maternity leave..."
"Ah, I understand." That was a relief. Soldiers were not perfect and things could happen, but there were many very good reasons no one made Ritual Plate maternity suits. "Honestly, if after twenty years, she thinks she's done enough for the Imperatrix, I can't blame her." One term and out was my plan too.
Giving a smile, Lucia nodded. "That's very gracious of you to say. But I think Charity does want to give more time. Pilots like her are the backbone of the Legionary Flier corps."
"Very true. What of the other two in your Flight? Any minor vices like gambling or drink?" I asked as we started to follow the path down the other side of the hill, closer to the water.
Lucia shook her head. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" I gave a sharp smile. "Primus, so far I'm the only teetotaler in my Squadron. Wait no, Octavia, in First Flight, also doesn't drink." I shook my head ruefully, mildly embarrassed at having forgotten that. I could blame it on her being newly under my command after roughly year of being apart, but that was a poor excuse.
"Well, they enjoy a tipple now, and then but IronTalon and Adriana are dependable and depend on each other," Lucia stated, her voice still obediently diffident but I could hear a core of firmness under the subordinate fluff.
"No need to be circumspect. Their relationship is documented in their files." I assured her as my tail swished.
"Naturally, I put that there," Lucia said.
"It's understandable. Many of our pilots are in that prime age, especially the new ones, and are leaving from home for the first time to head straight into a high stress environment full of death and uncertainty." I shrugged. It was a situation that was universal as far as I could tell, no matter the war, no matter the soldiers, no matter the species.
Lucia gave me an opaque look as she, for just a moment, seemed to calibrate her response. "And Legion Command and the Imperatrix are very accommodating, given our natures."
"Naturally." It would be the height of hypocrisy on my part to come down on fraternization in the ranks. Thankfully, Reinhild kept her poker face. "As for the drinking, Signifier GreyDawn maintains the Squadron liquor stock; she also is a deft hand when it comes to cards and other wagers. Between her and Primus Shadow I think any minor concerns can be addressed."
My new subordinate nodded. "It doesn't hurt their flying, and they're competitive with each other." Lucia gave me a calculating look. "Something, you may understand quite well, if rumor is to believed, Ma'am?"
"Yes," I nodded before clarifying. "I am engaged to both Primus Shadow and Primus VioletBlood."
"As the odd Primus out, am I expected to... Well... If not..." Lucia dithered nervously until she rallied and recomposed herself. "I understand."
"No, it's not like that!" I replied immediately, eager to nip this clear misunderstanding in the bud. "I'm informing you of the relationships already existing in the unit so you understand the dynamic."
Lucia gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "I'll just have to carry my weight. Unless the dynamic were to change."
This time Reinhild gave an ever-so-subtle smile. The damned fox!
"That won't be necessary." I rubbed my forehead as we walked down the surprisingly well-maintained path. "But if LoveBlood propositions you, please tell me and I'll take care of her."
"Is that a concern?" Lucia asked, frowning when she saw where we were.
"It shouldn't be." I motioned for Reinhild and she came up and opened the cases revealing a handful of wreaths and numerous individual bouquets of white lilies. The kitsune pulled a list out of the case and handed it to me. Rituals were important, as much for the dead as for those they left behind. For all that I was doing for the living orphans, I could spare a small gesture for those who came back here, for those who had no family plots to go to.
Lucia looked over the small cemetery with its modest headstones. "Can I help?"
I bowed to her. "Of course. We have wreaths for those who were in the Legions, Fleet, Auxilia, and other services, but everyone can get something."
End Chapter 21
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
And special thanks Macdjord for giving this chapter and a couple of the starting chapters a look over, and to Readhead for the polish and extra editing especially with the emotional interactions. And don't worry about Lucia.
Good news is that ch22 is also written (it turns out I wrote so much I split the chapter) so there should not be much of a delay for the next part being released.
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 21: Officers and Obeisance
Mursam was House BlackSky's largest colony. Located on a dimensional crossroads that made further travel easier, similar but lesser than that of the Homeplane of Diyu itself, Mursam was a central location that served as a logistical, commercial, and military hub for most of House BlackSky's other colonies.
I was not a member of the Cartographers' Guild, let alone the Transcendental Survey Branch, but I could read a map. Mursam was a key holding and thus needed considerable defense for itself and nearby colonies, especially since a direct transit from Diyu to Mursam had been charted about forty years ago, around the same time as the Third Great House War.
A full Coetus Malleus of twenty Legions, including Corpus Incursio Tenacity, was held here with enough Rorarii, first line reserves, to form at least ten more Legions. I was not sure how many second line reserves there were in Mursam, but this colony was a favorite place for Legionaries to retire to. The Emurian Fifth Landing Fleet was stationed here to transport Tenacity to any location on Mursam or any other colony and, if needed, could ferry another half-dozen legions in a second wave. The Colonial Domitianus Fourth Fleet was not quite as powerful as the Home Fleets, but the Fourth had about twenty capital ships, half of them stationed on Mursam, including the Celestial class Empyrean Zenith.
Of more relevance to the task of defending colonial holdings was the larger number of smaller combat airships also attached to the Fourth Fleet. Of course, the large contingent of assorted supply ships was the most vital component of the Fourth by far, and the key element to projecting BlackSky's Legions across the House's far-flung colonies. This mission was further advanced by a whole constellation of smaller bases and outposts standing watch over the secondary colonies.
Positioned over a natural harbor where the grassy steppes met the ocean, the colonial capital Mursa Victrix was a sprawling city of broad horizons. After spending about a year in Silvana, I had felt a twinge of agoraphobia when I was first exposed to the vast vistas, seas of grass or brine stretching endlessly in all directions around the city. Though, after a period of acclimation, I had grown familiar with the starkly beautiful landscape; it reminded me of Bovitar, the city I had grown up in, one orphan among many.
I stood on the balcony of the offices my squadron had been assigned while we trained with the rest of Quirinus's Demi-Wing. Today, the westerly breezes had obligingly brought the cool sea air directly to the balcony, cutting the edge off the alchemical stink of the industrial yards and mechanical stench rising from the massive base known as Colonia Mursam Castramagnus. I had gone from spring in Diyu to early fall in Mursam, which was only part of dealing with a slightly shorter year, a longer day, and other differences that gave a lingering feeling of unbalance and disquiet. Accepted wisdom held that it took a month to acclimate to life on a new dimensional plane.
I turned away from studying the sky. As always, the burning cloudless blue was busy with the expected aircraft. If one wanted to return to Diyu or to travel even further along the dimensional spine, then the only realistic options were a Teleport-rune-equipped airship or access to a proper Gateway.
Sipping from my mug, I stepped back through the privacy wards and into my squadron's offices. I took my time to enjoy the brew; it was the only cup I would allow myself for the day. Getting good coffee out here was far more expensive, hence the local popularity tea enjoyed.
Putting aside fears of another House War, of deals with Archangels, and the sundry other concerns I labored under, I allowed myself a moment of pride. The Third Squadron of the 78th Infantry Legion's Epsilon Demi-Wing was mine. Granted, I was still just over halfway filled on Pilots, but that would be fixed soon.
Passing Flight Two's Pilots, I looked over their shoulders and was gratified to see they were going over reports. Without any reminders necessary, would wonders never cease! Before I could congratulate them on their diligence, I felt a pressure at the base of my horns. The sensation was familiar and I was surprised at the sudden chorus of feelings that welled up with me at that nostalgic touch. My senior Pilot, Volantes Signifier GreyDawn opened the door to admit our visitor.
The willowy Centurion who stepped in looked more mature and grown up than I remembered her, but quite a bit of water had passed under the bridge since we'd parted. Octavia was a dark purple-skinned woman with glossy black hair and amber eyes. Even her wings, which I remembered as seeming vaguely oversized, now fit her slender frame perfectly. Not much older than LoveBlood, she walked with more confidence than the green Pilot I had first met over two years ago.
"Pri- Prefect Centurion DiamondDust!" she said, correcting herself as she saluted, exposing her neck and flicking her claws.
Returning the salute, I smiled, pleasantly surprised at our reunion; that is, I was surprised that Octavia had arrived today. "Centurion Octavia, it's good to see you, please come in."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
"You can be at ease," I chuckled, before continuing in a louder voice so the rest of my Squadron could hear. "Anyone who helped get the crew of a downed Spatha out of Ortov while the city burned and suffered alongside me in FOB EmeraldInferno in the Crocelli jungles has earned a bit of leeway."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Octavia agreed while GreyDawn chuckled.
My two Flight Leaders ambled over; Visha and VioletBlood also knew Octavia, of course. Though my wingwoman had missed out on all the fun of Ortov and minor House Vualia.
"Welcome to Third Squadron," VioletBlood said, sizing her up. "Congratulations on getting married," the Baroness added, her gaze upon me weighty.
"Thank you for sending us such lovely gifts, all of you." Octavia smiled and bowed her horns to us. "And congratulations on your engagement, to all three of you."
VioletBlood gave a smugly confident smile while I stammered an appreciative response.
"Thanks! It's great to have you again." Visha handed her a cup of coffee. "You'll be in Flight One, that's with the Countess, GreyDawn, and myself."
"We'll be wingwomen again," GreyDawn said with a toothy grin.
Octavia steeled herself. Being in a Squadron's First Flight was an honor, First Flight considered of: the Squadron Commander; her second, and the Flight Leader; and, in this case, the Squadron's senior pilot. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she said with more assertiveness than I expected.
The new Pilots of Flight Two looked up from their work, seeming to finally notice the new arrival, although in all likelihood they had simply been tactful enough to give our reunion the illusion of privacy.
"How much do you know of the assignment?" I asked
Octavia's usual cockiness faded slightly. "Junior Tribune Artemis Quirinus has four Squadrons. First Squadron, commanded by her wingwoman, Prefect Centurion Caenis, consists of Harmonia Air Superiority models. Second and Fourth are Sarpedona Ground Attack models. Which leaves Third Squadron, which is equipped with Polyxo."
"Ah, I see someone's read the briefing," I said, giving a bit of levity.
"I am Legion; I had help with the bigger words," Octavia smoothly replied. "But if you want me to elaborate..."
I shook my head. "It's pretty basic. Nearly fifty Legion Fliers, my guess is Demi-Wing Epsilon is intended to provide extra support to Legionary formations. Which, out in the colonies, has some implications. We'll be the swing Squadron. Our role will change depending on what Quirinus needs."
"It sounds like a good fit for someone of your skill," Octavia acknowledged.
I chuckled; from a stranger that could come off sycophantic, but Octavia knew my command style and had been trained under my wing. "You already know Flight One. LoveBlood, care to introduce Flight Two?"
"It'd be my pleasure." VioletBlood clapped her hands and snapped a summons at the trio of former cadets.
I allowed myself to fade into the background, free to enjoy my coffee as the newly minted pilots made their introductions. Those three had fought, suffered, and demanded exactly this. After Felisia had recommended I take some cadets into my Squadron I had spent the months after increasing the tempo of my training.
The rest of my Squadron had helped; we all knew that whoever would be picked would have to be reliable, capable, and able to learn. Beyond passing the examinations to proxy for Flight School the three winners had undergone personal evaluations conducted by Quirinus. I was grateful my commander had invested the time to put them through their paces, coming to her own conclusions about their fitness to serve. Conclusions that would be independent of my history with my former students, and the mixed feelings I had still harbored once Quirinus had confirmed that they passed muster.
The other cadets had gone onto Flight School with my letters of recommendation in hand, and were by and large taking the more conventional path of study, training, and waiting until the proper age before trying for a combat slot. I had done my duty and had provided the Imperatrix with a baker's dozen of Legion Fliers.
And yet, none of that was my concern now, thankfully. I had done all that had been asked of me as an educator, and now I was no longer forced to ride herd on a flight of ungrateful whelps and pampered daughters.
It was a drop in the bucket, as the BlackSkyvian war machine went. Every year the Imperial Legions graduated about seven hundred Legion Fliers. The larger Household Fleet needed well over three thousand Fleet Pilots annually, and that was just for Ritual Plate; VTOL, airship, and other aircrew were a whole other personnel pipeline.
"It has been my burden to command my fellow nobility and mentor them in what it takes to be a Legion Flier," VioletBlood said, stepping next to her fellow baroness. "This is my wingwoman, Centurion SkySpear. As the most capable and willing to put aside foolish ideas of being a duelist mistress of the air, it has not been entirely unpleasant flying with her."
With her side-shaved and braided silver hair, curled horns, and finely aristocratic periwinkle features, Baroness SkySpear almost looked like she would be better off in Fleet Whites than Legion Blacks, but she had proven that she could step out of her mother's shadow.
"Ma'am." SkySpear nodded to VioletBlood before turning to Octavia. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've read a lot about your missions."
Octavia bowed her head, presenting her horns.
"And these two I've put together in the hopes they'll keep each other out of trouble, but the countess decided to give Centurions Pulivia VibrantFang and Lavish RoseTalon a chance. Amazingly, neither has broken their new Polyxo suits yet. Yet."
Behind my coffee mug, I somehow managed to not grit my teeth. That those two had stuck with my program and managed to rise to the top was not entirely unexpected or displeasing. Lavish had a dogged stubbornness that was almost admirable. Things got easier for her when she realized I was not someone she could bully past using her force of personality or the weight of her senatorial mother's reputation.
Pulivia, the closest thing to a friend Lavish seemed to have, was rather studious and, despite a meekness out of the suit that seemed at odds with being the daughter of a duchess, third-in-line or not, she was decisive in the air. I just had to look past the two spoiled, pampered girls who thought they could crash a meeting with the manufacturer of our suits.
Which, admittedly, had been a very large ask.
Pulivia seemed a bit nervous and almost in awe of Octavia. "You were with the countess at the start?"
"That was me," VioletBlood haughtily interjected, as keenly defensive of her claims as always. "Isn't that right, Countess?" I keenly felt the conversational gravity drawing me back in, just as surely as if the baroness had stooped to looping her arm around mine and pulling me back in by main force. Fortunately, she'd retained a small measure of discretion. "But Octavia does go back very far."
Lavish gave a respectful bow to the both of us. It was odd to see her in a proper Legion uniform and not one with a cadet's green trim. "It will be good to fly with you."
I gave a sharp smile. "Quite so, now your Flight doesn't have a numbers advantage."
VioletBlood gave a small huff. "You do realize how unfair it is. Your Flight is full of aces with years of experience, while, aside from my own brilliance, I merely have cadets," she whined theatrically.
"Then you'll have to use your brilliance to close the gap," I said with a shrug equally theatric in its nonchalance, capping off my studied disregard with a long sip from my now-lukewarm coffee.
VioletBlood went from an exaggerated huff to a more sinister mien. "I'll just have to work them harder then," she crowed and cackled with malicious glee, and Pilots' tails went limp.
"Did your Ritualista transfer too?" Visha asked, diverting attention away from VioletBlood's minor power trip.
"They came with me on the same supply ship from Silvana." Octavia nodded and gave a smile. "I also may have brought a few goods from home."
My subordinates looked at my mug.
"Among other things," Octavia assured. "I did manage to get you a few things as well Ma'am."
I gave the Legionary Flier a wary look.
"Ma'am?"
"The Prefect is just weary after writing thank you notes for all going away presents she got before leaving Silvana," Visha explained, her tone placating and infuriatingly tolerant.
"I don't see why! Honestas and SaphireFiligre did wonderful work on her crown, and the coat of arms the duchess presented her was lovely, and long overdue. Not to mention getting you a proper sword," VioletBlood huffed, taking a moment way from harassing her pilots to shoot me a frustrated look as if I were to blame for such delays, which was only partially true.
"You have a coat of arms?"
"Oh yes," VioletBlood chirped, turning to smile at Octavia. "a lovely design of azure over sable. A constellation of nine crimson stars mount the black lower half while a pair of white wings rise up over them to the blue field feathers up protecting a golden star of Our Hallowed Lady." To my mild amazement, VioletBlood's tail was swishing enthusiastically, as if she were flaunting her own honors instead of dealing my own frippery. "I'd show you, but the countess doesn't want to put her coat of arms up in her office, let alone the common room."
I gave my betrothed a withering look. I appreciated the effort put into such gifts, but I was never one for crowns, and my coat of arms was rather... blatant in its symbolism. I was fortunate the design had been publicly entered into the registry after my business with Samoth had concluded. The Zioxan mercenary could have easily taken offense at the clear references to her sister's death on my arms, and surely would have taken the opportunity to claim insult if only to claim another bargain chip during our negotiations.
Still, the crown, sword, and coat of arms did suit the legend of Countess DiamondDust and would be useful when I was compelled to leverage that reputation. I suppose that was the real meaning of the gifts my sisters and mother gave me.
"It would compliment your crown wonderfully," VioletBlood's sober tone belied how petulant she was being.
"I don't keep that here either."
"At least your sword is in the office." This time VioletBlood didn't bother to conceal her pout behind any measure of decorum.
"It was her elder sister's," Visha said, trying to be conciliatory.
Thankfully she was not speaking of my late elder sister. Even I would have found that to be an ill-omened artifact. Still, ArgentShroud had honored me with a gift of one of her blades. She also had good humor and hoped that I, like her, would never need to use it in combat. "I can show you that if you wish," I said in a tone that indicated it would be best if Octavia wished for no such thing.
"No need," she said, full of assurance. "And I think you'll be happy with the items I procured. Signifier GreyDawn gave me a list."
"Unlike the rest of you, I've been off-world before," GreyDawn put in. "Things are better than they were back then, but there's always a few items that are hard to get out here."
"Good, and we'll go over our stockpile and see if there's anything we need to restock before we get posted further out." I turned back to Octavia. "Have your Ritualista contact Centurion Gibbs for their slotting and Miss SunShower, my aide, for any personal issues."
"I made sure my suit never left my Ritualistas' sight. They're offloading it right now." Octavia stated with justifiable pride; getting your suit lost due to a bureaucratic mix-up would be embarrassing and frustrating. "Your aide?"
"The Prefect's kitsune maid," GreyDawn clarified, a spark of humor danding around her eyes.
"Ah." Octavia politely nodded, her face a study of bland disinterest
"She's great at being both aide and maid!" VioletBlood insisted, although her point was decidedly undermined by the lingering petulance in her voice.
"She has been an excellent find, Ma'am," GreyDawn agreed with a face just straight enough that I couldn't chide her for the almost audible laughter at my expense.
I put my mug down on the table in the center of the room, deciding that it would be best for my dignity to simply ignore the entirety of the digression. "Octavia, I want your suit's records submitted to Centurion Gibbs. It took her long enough to accept the promotion; she might as well have something interesting to look at. First, is there anything you need fixed, anything you want? We might as well get your Polyxo refreshed when we're still at the biggest depot in the colonies."
"It was refitted to Mark 15 last year; overall it's good. But the stabilizers could use recalibrating, the survival kit is getting a bit old, it could do with a standard seal replacement, and the Ballista projectors are reaching the end of their lifespan, Oh, and my comms need syncing."
"Understandable, all standard," I said quickly drafting a memo as I listened. The survival kit, a set of relevant supplies stored on the inner suit layer, was easy to overlook. Fortunately, nothing was too time-sensitive, though fresh batteries, supplies, and munitions were beneficial. Getting her comms systems aligned with the rest of her Flight, Squadron, and Wing was, of course, the highest priority on the list. Bad communications may kill, but no communications was scarcely better.
Visha gave me a look and quietly took the pen from my hand and finished writing out the memo. Ah, this was her Flight, and as such standard suit issues were more her responsibility than mine. "Do you have a Gorgon Rig?" Visha asked her new Pilot as I took a step back, trying not to look too obviously chastised.
"Unfortunately, no." Octavia seemed a bit bashful about that. "My scrying systems have been updated but not to that level."
"We'll make sure you're consistently equipped. I won't have one of my Flight being the odd girl out," Visha said, disarmingly charming as always.
"I simply strongly suggested to my Pilots that they purchase that option when they bought their own Polyxo suits," VioletBlood said, giving her Flight a predatory smirk.
I eyed my least experienced Pilots without much sympathy. That was one advantage of dealing with spoiled nobles; they were able to buy their way up to par. "It's a shame that equipping Flight Three with Gorgon Rigs won't be that easy."
"Who will be in Flight Three?" Octavia asked.
"I've got a Flight transferring from the Primus Anchorage," I answered, pleased with the announcement. It would be nice to have another experienced Flight attached to my Squadron. Hopefully, we would be able to have the luxury of familiarization training to get all three of my Flights to work together as well as acquainting my Squadron with Quirinus's other three Squadrons.
"We're getting some moon succubae?" Lavish asked, blunt as always.
VioletBlood and I gave her arch looks. Pulivia winced by proxy at the somewhat crass slang.
"Sorry, that was too informal of me," Lavish said, trying to sound contrite and mostly failing. The green Pilot had the sense to not point out VioletBlood's nickname for Visha, nor the baroness's own nickname.
"Are they natives of Lantia? Did they grow up on the Anchorage?" VioletBlood asked, thankfully moving the conversation past Lavish's faux paus. Although, judging by her enthusiasm, she might be inquiring from genuine curiosity about her new comrades. If so, I could easily understand her curiosity. Lantia had a different culture, more reserved, than Diyu proper. It was also the heartland of House Andromache. The Lantian Primus Anchorage was the homeport of Primus Third Fleet, the Emuria Eighth Landing Fleet, and had a large Legion presence. All that meant a large population of support staff and dependents.
On first blush, the Primus Anchorage seemed like a safe rear position. In some ways, the Third and Eighth gave better service as fleets-in-being being unlikely to ever leave their berths in earnest. The possibility of having about ten capital ships, with full escort and fleet support, and Corpus Incursio Vigilance appear anywhere on Diyu within a couple hours was a considerable threat to any opposition, leaving the Anchorage as a quiet but prestigious post.
That impression, while not entirely untrue, was also exaggeration. It took time to collect, load, and stow the Legions on their troopships, not to mention charge their Teleport Runes. If it ever came time for the Third and Eighth to deploy in earnest, any enemy intelligence would surely see them coming and take immediate countermeasures. Still, when it came to rapid deployment of significant troop capacity, House BlackSky had invested considerably in that capability and it would be very through countermeasures indeed to even impede the massive lunar deployment. Even knowing an attack by the Third and Eighth was imminent, an enemy would be unable to concentrate their defenses unless they knew where the assault was to fall.
Both as a first strike capability or as a rapid reinforcement to either First or Second Home Fleet, these formations were a figurative Damocles Sword suspended over Diyu. It was the latter aspect, with even faster assistance if Beacons were used, that was what Third Fleet and its supporting Legionary assets were more frequently deployed as. I had enough experience to know that a posting on Lantia would be far from calm and sedate.
"Their Flight Leader is a veteran and did grow up in the garrison," I explained, moving on from considerations of Lantia. The relative value of that posting was academic in my case. While it was theoretically possible for me to acquire a slot based on the Primus Anchorage, I could only do that if I ceased to be Quirinus's subordinate.
"Oh? Why's she having her Flight transfer out here?" GreyDawn asked, just managing to keep the suspicion out of her voice. A trained Polyxo Flight was a valuable commodity in the Legions, and a transfer of an entire Flight was entirely worthy of comment.
"Was she floored by the opportunity of serving under you?" VioletBlood's haughty tone had undercurrents both gushing and snide.
I gave her a level look to indicate she was being just a bit too familiar in front of the Legionaries.
Tail curling, VioletBlood gave a small nod.
Looking at the clock I ran a few numbers. "Your suit's being offloaded?" I asked Octavia.
She nodded. "My Ritualista should be moving it to join the rest of the squadron. We're in hangar 38, the one just down the hall and on the ground floor?"
"Good, good. And have you had lunch yet?" I asked, giving the suddenly worried pilot a sharp smile.
Octavia shook her head warily, eyes fixed on mine. "I'm still getting used to the new time. Acclimation period and all that."
"Well, how about we all have a quick meal?" Despite my cheerful tone, my Pilots were skeptical and worried. "I'll talk to Gibbs and see if all our suits are flight-ready."
"Do you want me to get clearance from Flight Ops?" Visha diffidently asked.
"Yes, let's see what slots they have available, worst case we might have to get some simulator time," I said, giving my Pilots a reassuring smile. Half of the cowards openly flinched away. "Don't worry, this is just some familiarization training. It's not like even I can get a live fire exercise approved on this short notice."
For some reason the seven other Legion Fliers did not seem terribly reassured by my words.
++++++++++
Some things never change. When your commanding officer requests your presence "at your convenience" or invites you to dine with her, those are just polite formalities. You will find your convenience coming very shortly, and even if you just stood up from a meal you will abruptly find room to be peckish, or at least you will if you desire to have a future in the military.
Volantes Tribune Artemis Magnus Quirinus, commander of the 78th Infantry Legion's Epsilon Demi-Wing, was no martinet. Still, she expected all her squadron commanders to attend when she issued her summons, polite wording or not. The location she had chosen for today's meal was rife with hints about the true nature of this "impromptu get-together".
This was not a formal dinner that required mess dress uniforms, nor one requring the reservation of one of the Colonia Mursam Castramagnus' officers' dining rooms. Instead, the invitation was to an upscale restaurant just outside of downtown Victrix.
Stepping inside, I gave a short bow to the hostess, resplendent in her silk dress with intricate sash. A bouquet of both familiar and novel spices filled my nose. A further good sign, if only for my palate, was that the restaurant served Paymonish cuisine.
The western peninsula of Mursam had a rather large, if legally informal, colony from that Minor House. Over the generations, and adapting to local differences in food and climate, the Mursam Paymonish had started to diverge from their Diyu cousins.
I was led to a private room that with a good view of the bay. Three people were already waiting at the broad table: Quirinus; Prefect Centurion Caenis, her second and commander of First Squadron; and a third Prefect Centurion I didn't recognize.
On the shorter side but muscular and broad of shoulder, with short blue hair, and a rather demure set of grey horns, the new woman's wings were iridescent with blue-grey feathers. She gave me a calculating look. Putting her wine glass down, she bowed her horns to me. Ah, this must be the commander of Fourth Squadron; she looked younger than I expected, but still quite aggressive.
I gave her a quick but respectful nod, before bracing and saluting Quirinus. "Wonderful that you could make it;" the Tribune said by way of greeting, returning my salute, "please, sit."
I nodded and took one of the two empty seats.
"Countess, have you met Prefect Centurion Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang?"
"I have not had the pleasure," I said, giving the newly named HarrowFang a smile. The Legion Flier certainly looked tenacious, and pugnacious, enough to have earned the honor name Firmitas, even at her young age. "You've got one of our Sarpedona Squadrons?" I asked, out of politeness' sake.
Cold silver eyes twinkled. "Aye, and we've got something in common, DiamondDust."
"Oh? I've been out in a capital posting and been away from the real fight."
Fabia snorted. "Please. You're one of Artemis's girls. And she may be flying a prissy Harmonia suit, but she still makes sure her protégées all know how to get down in the mud."
"Ah," I glanced over and saw that Quirinus did not object to the familiarity. "There may have been some... popular embellishments to my-"
"Not that," Fabia cut me off. "I don't care about the crap and pap the capital and the brass-horns will serve up to try to get more tails in suits. I'm done dancing that dance. That said, we do have other things in common." She smirked as she sipped her wine, clearly enjoying dragging out the mystery. "Though my brats aren't quite as spoiled and noisome as yours."
Caenis shook her head. "Now, now, the countess only has to deal with one Flight of green pilots."
"My sympathies," I said sincerely, bowing my horns to Fabia in solidarity. "You have an entire cadre I take it?"
"Yeah," Fabia said, idly flipping the menu open. "My Flight Leaders are solid, and the girls are good, but it's still a green formation."
"You could have commanded Second Squadron," Quirinus said with a bit of resignation, clearly rehashing an old argument.
Fabia shook her head. "Nah, Julia is a good commander, but she still needs time to grow to her position."
"She's ten years older than you and has two more years time in-grade," Quirinus replied.
"I stand by my statement. Experience isn't just measured in time. Not everyone is as blessed by the Martyred Lady as our Countess."
"Or you?"
Fabia shrugged.
Evidently I still needed more practice. "I'm still quite new to all this," I said as the waitress came in and gave me some water. I managed to slip in na order for some amber tea before the uniformed server withdrew..
The ground-attack Legion Flier eyed me. "You're not the only one who got in early as a cadet. I just didn't make quite the same splash, fortunately. My actions weren't quite as evocative you see; no saving my noble mother, no making Ace in a day. As a result, the stories and plays with my so-called heroism died off within a year. And, thankfully, since I only saved hoof-sloggers, I never earned that cursed crown."
I tried to conceal my jealousy.
Fabia laughed, her sardonic humor spiced with sympathy. "Ah, so you have some sense after all. Wonderful."
"I managed to avoid having a Preserver Crown made for me for two and a half years," I stated obscurely pleased as I sipped my water. "How old were you?"
Fabia took a drink. "Thirteen. I'm Mursam, born and raised. Had a guild mistress, a cousin of my mother, who patronized my training, got me a cadet slot early. You know how it goes."
I nodded.
"And there was an exercise on Vikram; it was a wave-the-banner show off to try and up recruitment on that little secondary colony. Trosier tried to raid us. There wasn't much there but local colonial Auxilia." Fabia's face clouded but her expression twisted into a nasty fanged smile. "Unfortunately for them, we were doing a live-fire exercise and after the first combat losses, well... there was plenty of ammunition for those of us who were left."
"Ah, I guess I should not be shocked that something like that has happened before," I said as tactfully as I could. Border raids and brushfire wars were a constant if under-reported facet of BlackSky life, especially on the offworld colonies; notice of villages burned and civilians kidnapped did little to sell broadsheets and nothing to raise general morale, and generally slipped out of the awareness of any not directly involved.
Fabia played with her glass. "With an empire of our size, the emergence of a young Imperial heroine is a matter of statistics."
I tapped the table in thought. The evolution of a heroine could be calculated I thought, based on the number of cadets, the frequency of those cadets being exposed to safe missions, the fraction of said missions that turned out not to be safe after all, and other factors including how often the cadet lives and the odds they had a particularly noteworthy life story.
Given a bit of effort and access to enough data, it would be easy to calculate the window of probability in which the Powers that Be could expect a new heroine to emerge from the faceless morass of mission statements and loss reports. And once the emergence of such a media-ripe darling could be calculated, then it could be included as a factor for any propaganda campaign, any recruitment push...
Caenis snickered. "You don't have to try to work out the odds, Tauria."
Tail stiff, I gave an embarrassed nod to the head of First Squadron and pulled my head back out of the clouds. Such a model was a foolish idea anyway; pinning any major policy on such an unpredictable factor was individual heroism was absurd.
But given the right timing, and perhaps by ridding the deck in advance...
"Glory and fame are fleeting," Quirinus noted.
"That's a small mercy," a fifth voice drawled as a new figure was ushered into our room by the hostess. She had braided black hair, silver hooves, and with her skinny horns and a pair of slightly too big wings for her voluptuous frame, she looked more than a bit too young to be a squadron commander. There was also something off, about her accent. It was familiar somehow, but not in a way I could easily place.
Despite her youthful appearance, she was clearly at least ten years older than I was. Upon further inspection the impression of youth came at least somewhat from her deliberate, yet peculiarly weightless, almost floating, gait. When one wore a Ritual Plate one either had to deal with carrying a very heavy suit that weighed down your torso, and limbs or, when the suit's Zephyr were active, with controlling a suit with its mass buoyed by air spirits but that still possessed its full inertia. In neither case did Ritual Plate use lent itself towards such an airy step.
"Apologies, I got held up straightening out a supply issue with my Ritualista," the woman said in a slightly odd cadence, bowing her glossy green horns to Quirinus. It was then that I placed it; she had the smoother, more rounded vowels of a Luxon accent. It was not quite the flowing Otic I was exposed to in Bovitar, a border province butting up to House Luxon. No, this accent was slower than the accents around Great Bazala Lake in eastern Luxon; instead she had a bit more of the speech of someone from Yomi, Luxon's second city, in the central part of that House.
Interesting. I wondered if she was a refugee or had begged asylum. Perhaps her parents had been the immigrants. Even more interestingly, the woman walked as if she was still getting used to a set of flight armor, not as if she were an experienced pilot. I wondered if it was a deliberate affectation. Even my cadets had rather quickly abandoned any effort to exaggerate their strides.
"No worries; we haven't ordered yet," Quirinus said, gesturing to the open seat. "Everyone, this is Prefect Centurion Lady Julia JadeTalon, Second Squadron. Julia, these are your fellow squadron commanders: Caenis, my second in command, in charge of First Squadron; Countess Tauria DiamondDust with Third Squadron; and Fabia HarrowFang with Fourth, the other Sarpedona, Squadron."
"Charmed," Julia nodded to each of us. Her eyes did linger on me for a moment, perhaps surprised by my age.
We had time for a bit more small talk before the waitress came and took our orders. I decided to go with a savory and spicy shrimp soup, especially since VioletBlood had seemed eager to try the seafood here, which was a welcome break from her normally dismissive attitude to non-Diyu cuisine.
"What was the supply issue?" Caenis asked Julia.
Julia paused to roll her shoulders back. "Oh, just some cartridges for the portable etching and engraving systems for when Ritualista work in the field. There was a mix up when we came out here. Fortunately, I have solid Flight Leaders and the issue was found quickly; they just needed someone with a bit more shoulder-braid to push on supply."
"You're still down a couple Pilots?" Quirinus asked, leaning into the conversation.
Julia put down her own mug of fragrant narrow-leaf tea. A spicier blend that was popular in Khemi, Luxon's capital, but also everywhere else on the coast of the Great Bazala Lake, which included much of Eastern Province. I cursed my overactive paranoia; Quirinus did know and trust her. "Yes. I am supposed to get a pair from here, but..." Julia trailed off.
"The Countess is in a similar position; she's got a Flight coming all the way from Lantia."
"I'm hoping they at least managed to get off the moon by now and are waiting for transit on Diyu. That way they don't have as much distance to catch-up," I said, doing my best to contribute to the conversation. I was still immensely thankful for the pull Quirinus seemed to have as a new minted Tribune. Her reputation, as deserved as it was, must have helped her get some status for her requisitions and personnel needs. As a consequence, transit orders and supply requisitions were being met with unusual speed.
"Especially if, or when, we get sent to some other colony and the distance increases?" Fabia dryly asked. "At least they're not green, purportedly." Her tail swished with amusement.
Julia nodded. "I'm lucky. I got assigned to a squadron that had only three gaps due to Legionnaires' terms ending. Granted, one was their previous Squadron Commander, and Demeter left some big boots to fill, but I have all my Flight Leaders."
I made polite noises of agreement. I could see why Fabia was assigned the Sarpedona Squadron of rookies and Julia had the experienced ground-attack unit. Tribune Quirinus was trying to strike a good balance with her pilots' and officers' relative levels of experience. The real upside of all that was that we had a surplus of experienced Ritualista and our new maintenance personnel were learning from them at a good rate.
Amid more small talk and, thankfully informal, ice breakers, our food came and we got a bit more comfortable as we settled down to eat our meals. Fabia did have a knack as a raconteur and was able to tell some rather colorful stories, and, despite her relative inexperience, Julia had a good eye for detail.
Far from the worst comrades to serve beside, I decided. So far, my fellow officers seemed like a professional bunch, yet still willing and able to relax in non-professional settings. Compared to some of the professional pains in the ass back in the Imperial army, they're practically the souls of easy comedy.
As our meals started to wind down, Quirinus tapped her glass and our private room fell silent. "Now, I still haven't heard official word on where we will deploy, but I have been given assurances that we will have time to work up our squadrons, muster a full headcount, and have time to train as a Wing."
We all gave light chuckles at the value of assurances.
Our Tribune gave a slight smile. "Quite. While I don't have an official word on our next action; I would recommend those of you new to the colonies look into the history of Harp's World."
I concealed a sigh. There were certainly worse places we could be sent, but Harp's World was a morass, and not even one of our colonies. I also pushed down the flash of guilt that I would have to take her advice as my knowledge of that place was cursory at best. I cursed myself for doing insufficient research and trying to focus on what colonies I presumed we would have to protect.
Let that be a lesson, I told myself sternly. Always expect an out of context assignment when things are running too smoothly.
"We're going to Ziox's Folly?" Fabia asked.
Julia seemed a bit perplexed. "I thought it was called the Great Alecton Write-off?"
"And the Trosic Scrap Harbor." Caenis picked at her meal. "It has a lot of names."
"I've been focusing on familiarizing myself with our colonies, worlds that are one jump from our colonies, and critical enemy holdings. Was a new route to Harp's World discovered recently?" I asked trying to figure out why we would be sent so far afield. One of the main tasks of the Cartographers was to find routes between various worlds, as discovering a "shortcut" could bypass defenses, early warning systems, or simply shorten routes. If a new route had been discovered, our assignment as part of a new element sent to secure that route would make sense...
"No, there was no route change. So, hypothetically, if we were to go there it would be by indirect means: via Vikram to Alecto's rather... sparse colony of Forlorn Prospect and the Alecton hub world of New Batavia."
"Ziox's only significant off-world colony isn't a critical enemy holding?" Fabia asked, giving me a teasing look.
"You're the one who called it Ziox's Folly," I replied, not at all waspishly.
"Why is that? What happened there? I know Alecto sunk a lot into it, and I presume made even more money out of it. Why did Ziox let them in? Were they that desperate?" Julia asked.
"In short, yes. It's the consequence of repeated efforts to keep a failing colony operational," Quirinus said before chewing a dumpling. "Harp's World was full of potential, good mining assays, with various minerals, metals, and some rare arcane prospects, middling landmass, but what was there had great potential for cropland, and good climate. Overall, ideal for colonization, save that they didn't have a direct route there from Diyu and still haven't found one. Ziox had it all to themselves for a long time."
"That's where the problems started. It's the typical story: colonists and settlers wanted to get out from under the bickering Great Houses, only to realize that the Dictatrix's agents were right behind them and wanted to ensure that their new world's economy would profit Ziox," Fabia said before eating more of her curry and battered fish. "And of course, in the time honored tradition, the people most interested in xeno-colonization are the ones least invested in supporting their former home."
"There was a resistance movement?" Julia asked, digging into the spicy bed of shrimp fried rice and mixed vegetables with a beef broth.
"A completely organic one, yes. It's not like the Household Fleet has been seen operating on Harp's World beyond the occasional show-the-flag visit," Caenis assured in a pointedly dry tone while forking a piece of her steak-like cut of fish. We all knew that the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance was more than willing to meddle in the affairs of other Houses and we all knew that the Household Fleet had a small selection of, discreet and small, airships at the beck and call of august organizations like CSR, or the Palace Librarians.
That said, it certainly sounds like our spook shave no shortage of martial to work with already waiting for them on Harp's World.
"Ziox was quite new to the off-world colony game when they settled Harp's World," I commented, taking a guess based on what little I had read about the disputed colony in question, "and I'm sure that certain Great Houses on their border would not want a stronger House Ziox".
Fabia smiled. "Quite so. Ziox was soon faced with a choice: abandon the colony or go bankrupt trying to keep it under control while also building up infrastructure. Paying for the same refinery over and over again gets rather costly, and shipping in food for your occupation forces is not a good long term prospect."
"But they picked a third option?" Julia ventured, her confidence growing. "That's when they opened settlement on Harp's World up to other Houses, but... not Alecto?"
Fabia laughed. "Correct, although that was sort of recognition of the pre-exiting state of affairs more than a real change in policy. Alecton rates on investing in an area under open revolt were too much for Ziox at the time. House Trosier on the other hand...."
"Made efforts that were only desultory at best, and generally kept to their own enclaves," Quirinus added. "The armada had narrow ambitions but was willing to take advantage and help a dear ally."
"But that got the ball rolling, right? Ziox got more funds out of their concessions and..." I paused to recall. "They started granting local autonomy to the settlers, didn't they?"
"They had to. After the last Great House War scuttled their dreams of sweeping over central Diyu, Ziox was left in a bad enough position, at least in the near term. They had to do something to stop hemorrhaging money, material, and lives, and xeno-world colonies are edge budget items to divest when the cuts come calling. Pacifying Harp's World became utterly untenable when the post-war austerity hit." Fabia gave a slight chuckle. "Though their pride was loath to admit to it, Ziox did relent. That much red ink has a way of making even stubborn necks bend."
No wonder Samoth focused on mercenary work for Diyu Minor Houses; Harp's World probably had plenty of opportunity for work, but the locals likely had no love for their erstwhile masters, which greatly increased the risk with no commensurate increase in profit. Anathema to a mercenary.
"Placating the locals was only part of it," Fabia continued. "They needed more investment, more people, more resources, more than they could scrape up from within Ziox."
"House Ziox is not exactly long on friends," Lady Julia noted with a smugness that was rather typical of our kind, although I did note she seemed to hold a special animosity for House Ziox. If her origins were as I thought, I could easily understand why.
"Especially with Trosier being miserly, only transporting the minimal number of rust-buckets to secure their enclaves, and Irkella focused on their own imperial colonies," Fabia agreed, taking an unmistakable glee in Trosier's woes.
Julia's violet eyes lit up. "That's how Alecto got involved! Harp's World stabilized enough to be worth their while!"
"Not just them, Elena got involved too, right?" I ventured testing my recollections and cursing my insufficient diligence as I heard my own hesitancy. "Though not as much, mostly to secure access to choice pharmacological and alchemical extractions?"
"Correct, both of you." Quirinus gave a nod of approval. "Things progressed from there, autonomy became independence over time. Territories fractured and fought, but by that point there was enough Great House investment to put a lid on local affairs... vehemently."
"And thus Harp's World became home to two colonial Minor Houses. House Douha with House Ziox and, to a lesser extent, House Trosier as patrons, and House Umic with Alecto and, to a lesser extent, House Elena as patrons," Fabia explained whilst finishing up her plate. "And all the involved Great Houses also maintain territorial enclaves. Not to mention the various fragmenting Free Cities."
"And... we might be going to this snake pit?" Julia asked with exasperation.
"Welcome to the offworld colonies," Fabia announced grandly with a broad smirk.
"I didn't hear anything about House BlackSky's involvement in this mess," Julia point out, with the air of someone probing a contract's article in search for a way out.
"I am greatly reassured that even without the pressures of Diyu itself, our people's standards of diplomacy and harmony continue," I replied with false levity to ritual amusement around the table. Even with the potential of vast territory already under our talons, our Houses would squabble, bicker, and bleed, spending more and more into a colony that would almost certainly never generate sufficient provides to balance the sheet in the next century. Sunk cost upon sunk cost, all reason blinded by pride and ego and a need to always contest every scrap of territory over which another banner flew.
"What kind of resources - that is, military assets - do Houses Douha and Umic have?" Julia asked, eyes serious as she scanned the faces of the senior commanders present. And also mine.
"I don't have the exact numbers memorized but by Minor House standards they're populous and fairly coherent, so good in infantry but lacking in heavier equipment. No off-world capability, air assets aren't bad, mostly fixed wing, but not much in the way of carriers or large ships of any kind," Fabia shrugged. "Generally short-ranged projection if they extend outside of their enclaves at all."
"Douha is larger but worse off, as their patrons don't have as much to sell and are less inclined to make them stronger; Ziox likely still dreams of 'reunification' and doesn't feel like nurturing any impediments to that end," Quirinus said, with a wry smile as she dug into to her salad. The Tribune had a habit of eating her greens last, just before dessert.
"Meanwhile Umic is smaller and Alecto will be happy to sell them whatever they want, either for hard currency, trade, or leasing mineral rights." Fabia shook her head. "What would be our role there? If any Great House were to play peacemaker on Harp's World it would be Elena," she said before her tail flicked, understanding blossoming in her eyes. "Oh."
"That is speculative," Quirinus sternly stated. "Though it is known that the Great Houses who patronize Harp's World do keep... reasonable garrisons."
"Can we speculate as to our, theoretical of course, role? Epsilon Wing has considerable air to ground capability. If this was just an air action, or a large target, why not Fleet assets?" I asked sipped my tea contemplatively and pointedly not meeting anybody else's eyes.
Picking up her wine glass Fabia nodded along. "Yes, the girls in their spiffy white uniforms are good as long as the enemy is large and slow or small and fast. Anything in between or on the ground is why the Imperatrix has us Legionaries."
Julia idly toyed with her own cup, lost in thought. "Four squadrons is a fair bit to move, that'll take at least a Mellona Medium carrier. Or maybe a Damocles Light and a Kolibri Patrol carrier."
"And that's not even taking whatever ground assets we'd be supporting into consideration," Caenis added in a tone so pointedly mild I wondered what she knew that we did not.
"I don't know if we will be sent there," Quirinus said, giving us all measured looks. "But I want us to be operating as a cohesive unit one that can provide significant, precise, powerful ground support on demand while also defending ourselves from aerial counterattack."
I spooned up some more of my soup as I turned the matter over in my head, savoring the savory and salty broth. That little nugget all but confirmed we would be supporting some type of ground operation, which was admittedly the general remit of a Legionary Flier and thus not a significant surprise.
"Do we have a timeline? Even a vague one?" Julia asked with the air of a woman already making plans in her head. "It would be good to know how much training time I have with my girls."
That was a very good question. It would make a big difference if we were shipping out tomorrow, next week, or next month.
Quirinus smiled indulgently as she looked over us, clearly enjoying the finger of brandy left in her crystal flute. "I can't give you a firm answer, but we should get at least a month before embarkation. As I am sure you have all surmised, we won't be the only assets tapped for this role."
I kept in a tiny frown. Unless the mission were very short and we'd quickly make it back home, I was likely to spend my birthday and even the Feast of DarkStar out on Harp's World. Though it would take a lot for eitehr to be worse than my thirteenth birthday, spent out in the Crocelli jungles, let alone all the birthdays of my previous life spent out in the Rhine Front or other muddy hell-holes.
"And they'll need training too?" Fabia asked. "Another new unit? Or a specialized mission?"
Quirinus gave a thin smile. "It would be rather risky to have all freshly founded units sent out on a mission."
That caused a generally pensive reaction from us. BlackSkyvian doctrine, developed over centuries, frequently made for complicated ground missions. Of all the mission types that doctrine accounted for, there were few operations more fraught and intricate than a contested landing. Indeed, the Imperial Legions specialized in the sort of air assault often paired with those landings, that is, deploying anything from a Century to Cohort to Legion to Corpus Incursio to assist the hoof-sloggers in their efforts to bite and hold. And now our Tribune was implying that we might be going to Harp's World to support something above that already-high bar.
With only four Squadrons involved, the ground component had to be a few Cohorts at most, also called a Vexillatio, in size. Unless other RP assets would be attached at a further date, of course. The number of Legionaries involved would be even smaller than that scant handful if our Squadrons were tasked with providing heavy fire support in lieu of armored vehicles, as was often done in raids where mobility and a quick egress were of primary importance.
"What about an opportunity to train and coordinate with these hypothetical other units?" I asked, keeping the concern out of my voice. I was not sure what our mission would be, but based on our numbers I suspected we would not be part of a conventional invasion.
And while it was reassuring that my House was likely not going to jump into a pit with half a dozen other factions as part of some grandiose imperial land-grab, I had a personal and acute worry about the kind of operations my House would conduct with a small number of RP Squadrons. A Demi-wing could facilitate a lot of BlackSkyvian skullduggery.
"I am trying to get that arranged, sooner rather than later," Quirinus assured, seemingly taking in my concerns.
"If scheduling does not allow for this we will have to lean on our standard training and the expectation Legionaries have for their Legion Fliers," Caenis said piously.
Julia and Fabia both gave her minutely aggrieved gazes as their tails flicked. There was nothing insubordinate in their brief glares, but I could understand why the Sarpedona Pilots would feel they were more familiar with supporting the poor hoof-slogger than some Harmonia fly-girl.
I was not so perturbed, in part because I knew Caenis was not trying to be patronizing, but also because I knew her personally. I had fought beside the Prefect Centurion and I knew she had experience giving precise fire-support and had been eager to learn and apply my training improvements during our time back at FOB EmeraldInferno. "There are a few methods we can apply to help with our training, even if we can't work with the forces we'll be supporting before the fact."
"Yes, I have tried some of the methods you developed last year. It's a good refinement, ideal for small units that have dedicated support," Fabia confirmed, nodding as she telegraphed support in front of the two other commanders present.
Quirinus gave me a sharp smile.
"Ah, then perhaps I can give a lecture on the subject or..." I glanced around the table. "Set up a training scenario based around it after you've had time to instruct your squadrons?" I offered, adjusting my schedule on the fly.
"That would be excellent," Julia said, nodding along with an appreciative smile. Clearly, she grasped the conclusion our Tribune had led us to reach. I had my suspicions why she was unable, or unwilling, to tell us exactly where we were going or what kind of forces we would be supporting, and they were not pleasant.
"If you'll forgive me, I may have been threatening my rookies with your reputation, Countess, both facing your squadron and your training exercises," Fabia's smile turned icy. "Please tell me you won't disappoint and your fancy girls will be set up in ground-attack configuration for such an exercise?"
I returned with a toothy grin. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Quirinus sipped some of her plum brandy, a sly smile dancing on her wet lips. "Fabulous. I thought the four of you would get along. I am sure we shall accomplish great things together."
++++++++++
A gaggle of broodlings watched me, wide-eyed. Attention rapt, their tails swished as they sat around me in a loose semi-circle. I held a folded paper figure in each hand and used them to simulate the position of myself and my wingwoman. Overhead, my Zephyr blew around four more bits of folded paper.
"And then what?" a too-adorable orphan with brown hair in pigtails asked.
"She killed them all, dummy!" a younger broodling with long amethyst hair said waspishly.
"PurpleFire, language!" snapped the stern Sister standing behind them.
I held up a hand, idly twisting the folded shape that represented myself. "It's possible that my war stories might be over-stimulating them," I admitted as overeager air spirits decided to spin the enemy Flight up into a curving climb and down into a strafing run over the broodlings, much to their amusement.
"You have been telling... cleaned up tales." The Sister sniffed, though she smiled fondly at the display. "And I suppose that keeps them more engaged than if you had come to quote scripture at them."
"Still, I think we're getting close to lunch-time." I bowed my horns and with a slip of concentration some of the paper figures began to glide down to the grass. My wings ruffled and all the figures began to rise up again on renewed currents. That I was at the orphanage in my capacity as a Legionary Flier meant I could thankfully wear my uniform instead of my novitiate sister habit. There were many reasons I had no interest in proselytizing to these girls.
"But how did you defeat the nasty Diluvians?" PurpleFire whined, eager to hear the end of my story.
"Okay, I'll finish it up," I said, waving my hand in a placating gesture, simultaneously tossing out a handful more figures to be caught by my Zephyr. Made of scrap paper, the figures were folded much like a paper airplane and could similarly glide like quite nicely, but in a concession to my story were vaguely demon shaped.
Resuming my story, I started to pace. The colorful paper cloud swirled around me, and as I regaled the children with stories of ardent glory, I could reflect that Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor had a point. Here I was, telling stories of BlackSkyvian aggression and might to entice young war orphans to one day sign up for the service, to quest after honor and renown in the same uniforms their parents might once have worn.
After all, was I not an example of how an orphan raised by Our Hallowed Lady could go on to achieve great things? And didn't the martial glory I exemplified in their young eyes give a meaning to a life robbed of relations and family, left to the Church to raise and one day advance the cause of the House onwards?
The bloodthirsty little terrors cheered when my story reached its brutal crescendo and they mobbed over the figures that represented each fallen enemy flier to claim their prizes. The tatters of shredded papers rose where those prizes fell into dispute, each combatant striving to seize that which was rent asunder by their efforts.
The petty savagery of greedy little demons aside, it was nice to use this skill for something entertaining. Using my Zephyr for this style of minute control was something I had figured out towards the tail-end of my rotation as a cadet instructor. It was an amusing turn that I would use it first to awe broodling before I use it to overawe my House's foes.
Glancing up at the orphanage's clock tower, Sister Dignitas at last clapped her hands. "Girls, time to wash up for lunch. Thank the Prefect Centurion Countess for her time."
The broodlings, thankfully all younger than myself, bowed their horns before scrambling back up to their feet. Picking up my case, I handed out the remainder of the paper figures I had made to ensure that each got at least one intact poppet. I also handed out some small gift sets of chocolates, crayons, chew-sticks, and a couple DarkStar coloring books. Practical gifts like socks would be given later. We were in a partially-enclosed courtyard that overlooked some undulating fields to the south of Mursam Victrix.
"Looks like rain," I conversationally said as the Sister watched her charges make their way back inside the stone building. Remarkably solid, it dated to not far past the colony's founding.
Tail flicking, Dignitas glanced up at the sky. "Perhaps; you would know," she said, her tone a bit tight. She was a tall, austere woman with just a tinge of violet to her features. The Sister's duty was a challenging one, given the biological, and developmental, dependencies broodlings had.
"I am sorry for imposing and distracting the girls."
"Oh, it's not that," she said as we followed the orphans inside.
Entering the plain foyer, I frowned. Perhaps she was worried about the negative influence of my presence.
"Countess, a moment?" a merry voice asked respectfully.
"Of course, Reinhild," I said, giving a slight bow of my horns to the kitsune. I put the now-empty wooden crate by her feet among the others.
"I trust your aide's work has concluded?" the Sister asked me. "But... were all of those forms really necessary? I don't think I've ever seen their like before..."
"The paperwork is all in order," the maid assured her while giving me a tiny nod. She carried a briefcase for papers and several large cases for later on. Only one contained socks and other sartorial sundries.
Well, that was one less matter to worry about. "I do apologize, Sister," I explained, turning to the nun. "But given my age, a tithe at such a level has to get the approval of my seneschal and my Duchess. I even had to go through the same process to become a patron of the orphanage that raised me."
"Ah, I suppose that does make sense." The sister seemed mollified with my excuse.
It helped that it was the truth, technically. While Duchess SilverFlight and Seneschal Alexi Frugi would have to approve the funding, when it came to supporting a Church-sponsored orphanage I doubted they would do anything but rubber-stamp my request. However, I wanted to make sure the Sisters were not skimming funds, abusing the system, or engaged in any other malfeasance. Hence, setting a fox into their - fiscal - henhouse under the guise of due diligence.
"Well, let us go in and have some lunch; it is simple fare but...." Dignitas caught herself. "You would know, I suppose."
"Honest and filling," I agreed and put on a smile. "Besides, some of the rations in the Legions made me quite homesick."
I sat with the sisters and it was less awkward than I feared. It helped that the stew was good and the bread was fresh and the broodlings were getting plenty. One upside of going to Church functions with my Mother Clementia as a novitiate was that I learned how to make ecclesiastical small-talk.
"You've really brightened up the girls' day," a Sister sitting across from Dignitas said.
"I'm happy to have given some small measure of help; you have been wonderful hosts," I said, dabbing my napkin to my lips. "Being here reminds me of home." I took a moment to realize that was... true.
"What is the City of Trees like?"
"Silvana is bustling; it has some lovely cathedrals and history, but it can be very busy, almost overwhelming," I admitted, worried about how open I was being with the sisters. I concentrated on my lunch, hoping the conversation would return to dormancy.
"The chapel won't be used for a couple hours." Sister Dignatas offered, seemingly misreading my apprehension. "If you would like some private worship, we can make it available."
"That... I would be honored for such an opportunity," I said with a smile. Some quiet time alone would be a good way to wrap up this visit. I would avoid having to tell more impressionable young broodlings about the Legions and Ritual Plate.
As the meal concluded, I tried to help cleanup and police the dishes. However, Reinhild practically shoved me out of the kitchen seizing the load of bowls from my hands as she "escorted" me out of the way, and I soon found myself in the orphanage's modest chapel bereft of any task I could assist with.
Built from the same cut stone as the rest of the complex, the chapel was a humble affair, which was a reassuring statement on fiscal priorities. Though I found I could not begrudge the sisters for having spent a bit extra on comfortable pews. The chapel had a hushed presence and light shone in through the stained-glass windows. Plaques on the bottom of the ones on either side of the nave proudly listed the notables of Mursam who had donated generously to the orphanage over the years.
I brushed past those and went to the altar and knelt in the light of the four pointed star in the center of the large window over the altar. Simple, almost abstract statuary made up much of the altars accoutrements along with a rather modest reliquary to one side.
Moving by familiar rote I lit candles for my late adoptive sister, my birth parents, and made the requisite donations befitting my station and the social obligation of charity. With a bit of will, I lit the candles and put them with the other offerings. The flames burned purple-red and flickered for a moment before steadying.
Aged wood beams supported the roof far above my head. Hanging from the seasoned wood were endless banners bearing the names of all of the orphans who had passed through this institution. The banners rustled in a slight breeze that I couldn't feel so far below them as I knelt in front of the altar again and let the peacefulness of the place overtake me. The chapel had much of the same comfortable, timeless serenity as the rest of the orphanage.
My wings twitched as my hands clasped tighter. In quiet moments like this, I truly felt my age, both physical and mental. Familiar words mechanically crossed my lips as I beseeched the long-gone DarkStar for wisdom, tenacity, and grace. In truth, I wondered what the real DarkStar, the demon instead of the venerated goddess, would have thought of the worshipful cult that had spring up around her memory. When... no if she returned, per the dogma, what would her reaction be to the religion which had grown around her and all the things done in her name?
Religion had been a key part of the cultural bonding and civic rituals common across all three of my lives. While my participation in the rituals of my first life had been entirely performative, my relationship with religion in my second life had bee much more contentious. Adversarial even, Being X had demanded I comply with its wishes or die. No contract made under such duress could be considered binding, and like in my first life not a hint of sincerity entered my rituals.
Suddenly, my mind sprang from meditative calm to sharp-eyed clarity as a tiny bit of warmth radiated from my earrings as they filled with just a bit more energy. Above me, the name-dripping banners whipped a bit in a phantom wind and my tail stilled as I felt a presence drawing close.
For a horrified movement I thought the archangel might appear, disturbing this moment.
Instead, the door at the far end of the nave opened, revealing a woman waiting at the threshold. She was not one of the sisters nor anyone else I had met today. I finished my obeisance, stood back up, and turned around and tried not to give her a gimlet stare.
Given that the woman looked away, clearly I had failed. "Ma'am!" She saluted. "I apologize for disturbing you!"
Striding across the nave as the candles flickered anew, I studied the woman. She was quite tall, willowy without being gaunt. She had long glossy hair with somewhat messy bangs. Her legs were long enough that, despite my decided lack of vanity, even I felt a pang of jealousy. She must have been just under the maximum height limit for the sizes Ritual Plate components were produced in. I could sympathize given I was towards the other end, but not as close as I had been before I had started to grow taller in my teen years. Alas, my Vs had also continued to grow, which was... not entirely a negative, even if they still towered over me.
Sharp-featured to almost patrician levels, my visitor had a narrow chin and calculating amethyst eyes. Her tailfins, horns, and hooves were gold and she looked down before she met my gaze with a flash of hauteur that I found rather familiar, perhaps from long experience with troublesome aristocrats. But that quickly passed as she took in the chapel. It was still but for the flickering candles and rusting banners. Based on some sort of internal calculation, she opted to give me a gracious smile that was only slightly tinged with apprehension, which was also rather familiar...
Ah, I did know her. "Primus Centurion Lucia Hood?" I asked, returning the salute with a tilt of my head and flick of my wrist.
"Yes, Ma'am!" she replied eagerly, glancing over to the tiered rack of votive candles with their purple flames as she did so. Odd, was she unfamiliar with the symbolism?
This was the head of my new third Flight. I had been told to expect her in two days, which would have been a week after the Squadron Commander dinner where Quirinus had hinted at our deployment. Stranger and stranger, as Lucia was BlackSkyvian and stationed on the Moon of Lantia, so she should have some familiarity with the Church of DarkStar.
My eyes narrowed at the towering demon before me, all sharp edges and darting eyes.
"You're impressively early. Do you have your routing orders?" I asked affecting, a casual tone. It might have been paranoia, but I wanted a measure of assurance that I was not talking to someone who had merely taken the form of my subordinate and purloined a Legionary uniform with the markings of Primus Centurion with the Volantes specialty.
Looking to the altar, she quickly made the four points of DarkStar's eponymous star over her chest. It was not a gesture that the Order of the Hallowed Lady, the faith I was raised in, used for everyday ceremonies, but others, such as the Order of the Martyred Lady, did use it as a part of their routine obeisance.
"Sorry!" Lucia opened her slim messenger case and pulled out a missive.
I took it and read. The orders were valid and an idle trace of my finger elicited the correct magical responses from the various seals. More reassuring was that a memo slip was added to the order stack. With the heading "3rd Squadron, Epsilon Wing, 78th Legion", it was one of the lot Reinhild had ordered for my command.
I paused; when had I become the type of officer to bring her own servant to a combat posting? Stationary and staffing aside, the memo was signed by Visha, who said she had started integrating Flight Three's personnel and equipment. The suspicious part of me noted that someone could still have waylaid the real Centurion Hood and taken both the documentation and her form.
"My second told you where to find me?" I asked, folding the orders up and offering them back.
"Yes, Primus Shadow was quite helpful, but no, please keep them," Lucia said with her tail idly swishing. "After I gave her the status reports and maintenance logs for my Flight and made our introductions, I asked if I could meet with you." She somehow made the routine request sound like it was some dearly held wish on her part.
"And... she sent you out here?" I asked, keeping my tone level as I slipped the communiqué and orders into a hidden pocket on my uniform blouse. I might have to give Visha a quiet word about boundaries.
"I'm not surprised that you're at an orphanage. Myself and my younger sister had conflicts with our mothers but..." Lucia trailed off awkwardly, clearly aware that she had made a blunder and equally unclear about how to extract her hoof from that hole. After a moment, she opted for blunt sincerity. "And I am sorry to disturb you at prayers!"
"No need." I waved it off and pondered on her fidgeting disquiet. "If you're not comfortable here, we can step outside. House BlackSky is pluralistic and I have members of many faiths in my Squadron."
Lucia gave a graceful, but practiced, smile. "Oh no, Ma'am, I'm a member. I'm not that pious but..." Her admission came with an unconscious step back. "But I did do some joint missions with an Andromachin Pilot who was also a chaplain, so I am used to those of a fervent belief."
I laughed, understanding just what she meant. "Well, you don't need to worry; I'm not that religious either. I'm clearly not one for proselytizing..." I slowed as I remembered my recent encounter with the broodlings, and amended my statement with, "for the Church."
Looking around at the nave and altar again, Lucia gave an obliging nod. "I am a tiny bit surprised to see you being so deeply engaged in a chapel like this and not a grand cathedral."
"Oh, I've been to the cathedrals in the City of Trees. They are nice, but overstated. I prefer the small honest chapels like this one; it reminds me of my childhood," I said, my tone reassuring. I did not want my new subordinate to think I was someone obsessed with pomp and ritual.
Lucia nodded dutifully.
"How did your Flight get in so early?" I idly asked.
"I managed to get us a slot on a Teleport Gateway," she replied with deserved pride. Providing a direct point to point transit, Gateways were always in high demand and their considerable throughput would be used for critical assets in spite of their limitations.
Weighing over a hundred tons and very expensive, Gateways had to be built in twinned pairs which could only teleport items between each other. Requiring considerable shipboard power or a dedicated power-plant, they also had to be retuned whenever one of the pair was moved. The least restrictive part was the size of the teleportation chamber which objects had to fit fully within; just about everything in the Imperial Legion's inventory could fit. From artillery pieces to trucks, from tanks to Umbra VTOLs, almost every piece of gear could be maneuvered to fit into the chamber. The Household Fleet was less lucky.
Regardless, a Gateway pair was an excellent line of communication that allowed for the transit over four thousand tons per day one way or half that if items and people were being shipped in both directions.
"And how did you manage that?" I asked. "Did you get a direct transfer from Lantia to here?" The Gateways linking the Colonia Mursam Castramagnus back to major bases on Diyu were very busy. As were the Gateways linking the Primus Anchorage to Diyu, but maybe the links between Lantia and Mursam weren't as busy.
"It was a bit of lucky timing and cashing out some favors with the girls in the embarkation facility." Lucia's smile faded. "It's not like they'll do me any good out here. I tell you, I've done plenty of teleporting but going via Gateway feels more... intense and focused, you know?"
"I haven't had the experience; this is my first time off Diyu," I admitted, affecting a casual tone. The charging and cool down times to go from Lantia to Diyu and Diyu to Mursam would add up to about a full day. Another day could easily be added in time, waiting at the Anchorage, then unloading at a base in Diyu, waiting to board an outgoing airship, and unloading in Mursam. "But glad to hear you were able to save time, that'll give us a leg up on training."
Lucia seemed surprised at my lack of colonial experience, but she hid it politely enough. "Yes Ma'am, I promise my Flight shall not slow you down. We are poised and prepared," she promised eagerly with a reassuring, almost courtly, diction.
I gave an encouraging smile. Primus Centurion Hood was experienced and her file brimmed with glowing recommendations, but I made a mental note to make sure her exuberance did not lead her into trouble. I had enough trouble as it was, worrying about LoveBlood, who I was certain would be trying to prove her Flight of greenhorns were worthy in short order. "Do you mind if we talk outside?"
Guilt flashed over Lucia's face as she studied the altar. "I'd like to, um..." Tail flicking, her eyes went to the votive candles merrily burning. "Have a moment to say some prayers first."
"Of course, I'm so sorry for being presumptive," I assured. "Please, take all the time you need."
"Thank you, Ma'am." Lucia gave a tiny laugh. "And don't worry, I never thought you, of all people, would get in the way of obeisance."
"Perish the thought. If you'll excuse me," I said before making my way down the aisle to the back doors to the chapel. Reinhild was waiting there for me, tails swishing.
The kitsune watched the centurion make her way to the front row of pews over my shoulder as she asked, "A new subordinate?"
"It looks that way." I passed Reinhild the routing orders and Visha's message. "Do you have it?"
After inspecting the paperwork, the maid's more-vulpine-than-usual grin turned somber as she lifted up the large cases she carried, one in each hand, by the rope handles stapled to their lids.
"Good," I said, existing the chapel and letting the door ghost shut behind Reinhild, "we have time for a little trip."
Reinhild nodded thoughtfully. "Are you concerned about this new centurion?"
"Should I be?" I quietly asked. We were thankfully alone in this part of the orphanage.
"I can't say, Ma'am, but if this isn't one of the memo sheets I ordered for you then it is an exquisite forgery, as are the orders and Visha's handwriting. Still..."
Tail flicking I gave Lucia a final look before stepping into the corridor beyond the chapel. "She looks like my third Flight Leader and has the uniform and paperwork."
Reinhild SunShower shrugged.
"I'm just being cautious. When we get back to base, I can confirm she is who she is," I explained as we walked a bit further down the hallway and looked out a set of windows onto the grounds. The sky had turned overcast but it did not feel like rain just yet. Good.
"Prudent," my maid remarked, her voice diffident without a hint of reproach.
I sighed. "She is promising, and it will be nice to have my Squadron up to strength."
"But?" Reinhild asked
"She's not a rookie, thank DarkStar, but Primus Hood is still young and keen."
"And you prefer cynical subordinates tempered by experience," Reinhild said in the overly proper tone servants cultivated to deniably imply impertinence.
"We shall see."
"Maybe she's intimidated by finally meeting an Imperial Hero and is trying to puff herself up."
"She's a foot and a half taller than me."
"All the more reason to paint herself as sufficiently hard-charging to someone she sees as a young, pious, and aggressive leader."
My tail curled as I saw the logic. Fear of not impressing the boss could cause all sorts of cascading problems in an organization. "Perhaps," I allowed.
Patting me on the shoulder in a gesture that was not a hug, the kitsune smiled and stepped back.
Turning, I walked back to the chapel and found that Lucia had lit a votive candle and was crossing the nave towards the door, where Reinhild and I stood. She looked oddly serene as the banners fluttered above her and a gust of wind went past her to circle around me before turning quiescent. Purple eyes widened slightly, she saluted again, baring her neck and motioning with her fingers. "Thank you for your patience, Ma'am."
I returned the gesture. "Come, let's have a walk outside before it starts to rain."
"As you say!" Her eyes went to Reinhild.
"This is Miss SunShower; a Rorarri Auxilia Scout and my aide." I tried to sound offhand.
Seemingly transfixed by the waving fluffy tails, the tall Legionary Flier nodded and quietly followed us down the hall, out a set of doors, and down some steps. Thank DarkStar someone on my staff, other than LoveBlood, was accepting of having a maid around.
"What got you to agree to a transfer to a colonial position?" I asked as we walked down the pathway that skirted past the orphanage's vegetable gardens and meandered out roughly towards the orchards. Reinhild had slipped behind us and with a subtle enough nudge got the dark-haired pilot walking next to me instead of dogging my foosteps.
"Have you ever been to Lantia?" She winced. "Sorry, you said this is your first time off Diyu."
"No apologies," I said soothingly with a warm smile. "I was ambiguous; some do think of Lantia and Emuria as part of Diyu, that is if the colloquial definition of Diyu as our Homeplane instead of Diyu as the continent is used." I looked up into the mostly cloudy sky. "I'm still getting used to looking up and seeing only one small moon."
"I was told that not seeing Diyu above us could be disconcerting. That's part of why I wanted the transfer."
"Ah, 'Join the Legions and see the Worlds'?" I chuckled.
"Getting a broader experience base does help in many ways. " Lucia's hair billowed behind her like a banner as she nodded enthusiastically.
"Such as for promotions?" I asked, keeping my tone open.
She nodded. "And my sister wants me to describe to her all the places I'll go."
My tail swished. Well, someone who wanted a more exciting posting to help her career was less risky than someone who wanted more excitement for glory's sake. "Tell me about your Pilots."
"Beyond their dossiers and their Polyxos' maintenance logs, I presume?"
"Just so."
Lucia nodded. "Charity's my wingwoman: solid, experienced flier. She has a wife and twins; cute girls that just hit their teens..." Lucia trailed off as her gaze went down to survey me.
"It's alright," I reassured her, long since familiar with this particular song and dance, "I've had years in the Legions to get used to people noting my age."
"It's not that," the Primus Centurion coughed awkwardly into her hand. "Not exactly. I think Charity's going to ask for maternity leave... Not until, um... What season is it here? Seasons are different up on Lantia, but..."
I laughed. "Early fall. And don't worry. I still feel like it should be spring."
"Yes, we've got a year before it should be an issue," she said as we walked uphill and reached the orchards. The bare trees rustled.
I gave a shrug. Getting maternity leave was a complex process in the Legions. The main part was time in grade but your commander's recommendations could really put a talon on the scale. "Will she be bringing her dependents here?"
"She already put in for on-base housing for them," Lucia said, before breathing in with sudden appreciation. "Oh, that's a lovely view!"
For a moment the three of us silently looked out over the ocean in the distance; the view was part of why I wanted to go on this little walk. "Primus, I don't want to ask this, but do you think Centurion Charity BreezeFlower is at risk of getting pregnant without leave?"
The wide-eyed, horrified reaction Lucia gave was exceptionally open and aghast. "Of course not! She'd never do a thing like that. I was just warning you that she does plan to have more children and her term will be up in a couple years so if she doesn't get maternity leave..."
"Ah, I understand." That was a relief. Soldiers were not perfect and things could happen, but there were many very good reasons no one made Ritual Plate maternity suits. "Honestly, if after twenty years, she thinks she's done enough for the Imperatrix, I can't blame her." One term and out was my plan too.
Giving a smile, Lucia nodded. "That's very gracious of you to say. But I think Charity does want to give more time. Pilots like her are the backbone of the Legionary Flier corps."
"Very true. What of the other two in your Flight? Any minor vices like gambling or drink?" I asked as we started to follow the path down the other side of the hill, closer to the water.
Lucia shook her head. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" I gave a sharp smile. "Primus, so far I'm the only teetotaler in my Squadron. Wait no, Octavia, in First Flight, also doesn't drink." I shook my head ruefully, mildly embarrassed at having forgotten that. I could blame it on her being newly under my command after roughly year of being apart, but that was a poor excuse.
"Well, they enjoy a tipple now, and then but IronTalon and Adriana are dependable and depend on each other," Lucia stated, her voice still obediently diffident but I could hear a core of firmness under the subordinate fluff.
"No need to be circumspect. Their relationship is documented in their files." I assured her as my tail swished.
"Naturally, I put that there," Lucia said.
"It's understandable. Many of our pilots are in that prime age, especially the new ones, and are leaving from home for the first time to head straight into a high stress environment full of death and uncertainty." I shrugged. It was a situation that was universal as far as I could tell, no matter the war, no matter the soldiers, no matter the species.
Lucia gave me an opaque look as she, for just a moment, seemed to calibrate her response. "And Legion Command and the Imperatrix are very accommodating, given our natures."
"Naturally." It would be the height of hypocrisy on my part to come down on fraternization in the ranks. Thankfully, Reinhild kept her poker face. "As for the drinking, Signifier GreyDawn maintains the Squadron liquor stock; she also is a deft hand when it comes to cards and other wagers. Between her and Primus Shadow I think any minor concerns can be addressed."
My new subordinate nodded. "It doesn't hurt their flying, and they're competitive with each other." Lucia gave me a calculating look. "Something, you may understand quite well, if rumor is to believed, Ma'am?"
"Yes," I nodded before clarifying. "I am engaged to both Primus Shadow and Primus VioletBlood."
"As the odd Primus out, am I expected to... Well... If not..." Lucia dithered nervously until she rallied and recomposed herself. "I understand."
"No, it's not like that!" I replied immediately, eager to nip this clear misunderstanding in the bud. "I'm informing you of the relationships already existing in the unit so you understand the dynamic."
Lucia gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "I'll just have to carry my weight. Unless the dynamic were to change."
This time Reinhild gave an ever-so-subtle smile. The damned fox!
"That won't be necessary." I rubbed my forehead as we walked down the surprisingly well-maintained path. "But if LoveBlood propositions you, please tell me and I'll take care of her."
"Is that a concern?" Lucia asked, frowning when she saw where we were.
"It shouldn't be." I motioned for Reinhild and she came up and opened the cases revealing a handful of wreaths and numerous individual bouquets of white lilies. The kitsune pulled a list out of the case and handed it to me. Rituals were important, as much for the dead as for those they left behind. For all that I was doing for the living orphans, I could spare a small gesture for those who came back here, for those who had no family plots to go to.
Lucia looked over the small cemetery with its modest headstones. "Can I help?"
I bowed to her. "Of course. We have wreaths for those who were in the Legions, Fleet, Auxilia, and other services, but everyone can get something."
End Chapter 21
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
And special thanks Macdjord for giving this chapter and a couple of the starting chapters a look over, and to Readhead for the polish and extra editing especially with the emotional interactions. And don't worry about Lucia.
Good news is that ch22 is also written (it turns out I wrote so much I split the chapter) so there should not be much of a delay for the next part being released.
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Fabula Amanti
I want a Grimoire, but I got books.
- Location
- Singapore
Relationship is moving fast this time around huh? Seems Visha have learned how to penetrate her misunderstanding field and applied it in tandem with VB.
And more world building everywhere. Can't wait to get back into the action.
And more world building everywhere. Can't wait to get back into the action.
- Location
- USA
Fast in a way. LoveBlood has been bashing her head on trying to get past Tauria's defenses for a while. But as you note Visha does have a way inside.
Heh, yeah, there's a bit more setup and training, but I did want to show a bit more of this part of the setting.