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

[Sunshine Temple]

For her actions in her second life, Tanya is rewarded by being reincarnated into the world of the Diyu Great Houses. Powerful demonic, polities, the various Houses bicker, plot, trade, fight, and jockey for position. Tanya finds herself in an orphanage in the city of Bovitar in House BlackSky's Eastern Province near the borders with their libertine rival House Luxon and their small ally House Andromache.

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House BlackSky is one of the largest Great Houses and is surrounded by rivals and potential enemies who fear their aggression, organization, and power projection. To the north is the even larger House Elena, to the east is the slightly smaller House Luxon, across the sea to the south-west is the naval power of House Trosier, and to the northeast is House Ziox. BlackSky does have allies: to the east is the mercantile naval power of House Alecto and to the north, east of Elena, are the smaller but strongly allied Houses of RedStorm and Andromache. Diyu is a world of powerful empires who have leveraged their innate abilities and talents applying magic to an industrial scale, which they have bent to war.

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Tanya is one of these Diyu demons; an all female species who had been artificially created as slaves and soldiers who revolted against their masters and fled to this realm where they grew into the squabbling Great and Minor Houses. The experiences of her previous two lives guiding her, Tanya tries to make a life for herself.

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This story can stand on its own, but it set in the same narrative verse as the Return series which can be read here and here. More setting art can be found here. The informational and media tags can also be explored.

A Dramatis Personae can be read here.

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(Apologies for most of the links to supplementary information going to Space Battles, that just happens to be where much of that information is stored.

Book 1: "What Comes After"
Prologue: Victory
Chapter 1: Hail Imperatrix
Chapter 2: Allegro with Aplomb
Chapter 3: A Night at the Opera
Chapter 4: Silver Wings (First combat heavy chapter)
Chapter 5: Birthday Blowout
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Chapter 6: See the World
Chapter 7: Meet Interesting People
Chapter 8: And Kill Them. Part 1
Chapter 9: And Kill Them. Part 2
Chapter 10: Reunions, Family and Otherwise
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Chapter 11: Run Through The Jungle
Chapter 12: Dangerously Petite Pirouette
Chapter 13: Command, Control, Reconnaissance, & Revenge
Chapter 14: Verbum Vincet (Beach "Episode")
Chapter 15: One with the Sea
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Chapter 16: Pride and Punishment
Chapter 17: Mandatory Mentoring, Rivals and Reunions
Chapter 18: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 1
Chapter 19: "Old Acquaintances and Uninvited Guests" Part 2
Chapter 20: War by Other Means

Book 2 : More than a Shadow
Chapter 21: Officers and Obeisance
Chapter 22: Simulations and Secondment
Chapter 23: Cat's Cradle
Chapter 24: Adversary Anticipation
Chapter 25: Smooth Sailing
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Chapter 26: Inclement Weather
Chapter 27: Tempest's Roar
Chapter 28: Landfall
Chapter 29: Recall; Recuperate
Chapter 30: Info Hazard
Chapter 31: REDACTED
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Chapter 32: Saintly Situations
Chapter 33: Recreational Transit

Merry (belated) Christmas (This originally was posted a few days after that holiday as a bit of a rushed surprise)

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Prologue: Victory


No matter what happened next, no matter the burdens, no matter the indignities, I would forever treasure the look on Being X's face when I jabbed my rifle's sword-bayonet into his guts and pulled the trigger.

Putting me there where I could hit him, where I could kill him, took everything.

I promised the men of the 203rd that we would win no matter the cost. With a self-declared omnipotent creature like Being X pulling the strings, there was no way the Empire could win the war.

In the end, the cost was less than I expected. Visha and Weiss would be able to get the survivors back... well... back home. I gave Major Weiss specific instructions to blame me for taking the 203rd battalion and the rest of Salamander without orders - though with the way the war was going, defecting instead might be better. If I were an optimist I would think the Empire could still turn it around. And maybe they could, but they would have to try without me.

And without Being X interfering.

After acquiring vital weapons, we had picked up the trail up north, not far from where I'd won the Silver Wings Assault Badge. From there our pursuit had gone south west.

To the Rhine. It had no longer been an active combat zone, but it had still borne the scars. I hated that place. I hated the nickname I had earned there.

So of course that was where Being X had made its stand with its puppets.

Letting out a ragged breath, I fell to my knees. My rifle and its long bayonet clattered to the concrete but I didn't care. I put a hand to my chest.

There was no blood.

My eyes widened and I scooped up my rifle and stood. My computation orb - I had modified the cursed one that Being X had forced me to use - flared and I was ready to take to the air.

This wasn't the mud and broken terrain of the Rhine area.

This was a train station. It was the train station.

I had died here. The first time. A man, unable to react to being fired with any degree of rationality and proportionality, had pushed me onto the tracks.

And that was when Being X had first interfered with my life. He had not taken well to me debating him on the points of worship and the desperation required for it. And, in a fit of rage, Being X decided to force me to his way of thinking.

The station was empty. There were no people to act as his mouthpieces and certainly no people in the train or on the tracks.

I looked down the rails; they went off into the distance. But once they were past the station they were the only thing. Everything else beyond the platform itself was a white void. Looking behind me, I could see the stairs that went down to street level but they ended in the same void. To one side was a black glass door that I did not remember, but it had been years since I was here.

I tensed and a bit of worry hit me.

I had beaten Being X. I had put into it all the power of my computation jewel, the sword-bayonet I had purloined from a Unified States depot in Albion, the research I had taken from Doctor Schugel, the modifications to the Type 95. It was a gamble, a glorious risk.

But a calculated one.

"Be not afraid," a man said in a calm voice as he approached. He wore a familiar blue jumpsuit and was pulling off a white hardhat. His hair was pale blond and his features were elderly. The lettering on his hardhat and suit marked him as working for a garbage collection service from my childhood.

My first one.

"Who are you?" I kept my rifle pointed down, but ready. I realized that I was no longer in my torn, bloody flight suit but instead in my uniform, and that my computation jewel was no longer a molten chunk of slag.

He gave a warm smile and pulled off a pair of gloves and put them into the upturned helmet. "I must thank you."

"Eh?"

"Few are willing to adhere to their principles in the face of overwhelming power. Being X, as you called him, tried everything to defeat you. He treated not just you but billions of souls as playthings." The man's voice hardened. "That was an utter affront. Rectifying and rebalancing it has been an immense task, and I apologize for keeping you waiting for so long."

I paused; I had just woken up in the train station, right?

"How do you know that name?" My fingers clenched and I saw that the blade on the end of my rifle had regained its silver sheen.

The old man smiled. "How do you think?"

"What are you, some other being? I knock off Being X and you step in and claim that, no, you're the real God?"

An uncompromisingly stern expression crossed his face. "No, I could never claim that. No. I am a simple servant. I clean around the edges and restore the balance. I ensure mortals have a choice. That they can freely associate, made decisions, and use their Free Will. The idea of a being extorting a soul with 'pray or die' offends my very core."

I gave a skeptical snort. That was more my style of cosmology, but I had not spent years fighting Being X to be taken in by some new being. "Right, where was your help when I had to spend a new life as a girl?"

The old man quirked an eyebrow and looked meaningfully at the blade.

"Lovely, well, thanks for the help. Are you going to make with the psychopomp thing and tell me what my afterlife options are?"

He laughed. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."

"But who are you?"

"Ah." He bowed to me. "My name is Uriel."

Ingrained lessons in protocol from a lifetime ago had me return the bow. I will admit, claiming to be an archangel was less egotistical than claiming to be God. "You will have to pardon my caution, Mr. Uriel." As a show of good faith I shouldered my rifle.

"Understandable."

"If you'll forgive me for asking, why didn't you intervene against Being X, If he is so antithetical to your values? While I appreciate your stated position of valuing choice, I do wonder as to your actual actions."

"I am limited in my remit."

I tilted my head. "By your superior?"

The old man gave a wry smile. "You could call it that. It is more accurate to say it is fundamental to my nature."

I let that slide for the moment. On the one hand, saying "that's not one of my duties" is a classic excuse of shirkers. On the other hand, to have any organization, groups have to have some adherence to order - my own actions in taking my battalion out to kill a god notwithstanding.

"In what ways did your remit allow you to act?"
Uriel nodded. "In balance."

I motioned for him to go forward.

"Ah. If one party violates the rules regarding interfering with mortal souls, then I am authorized to act in an equal manner, thus restoring balance while giving the opportunity to exercise choice. Free will is the greatest gift of mortal souls."

I gave a half smile. "Mr. Uriel, you need not flatter me." Though if Uriel were correct that would mean my initial supposition that Being X was not god but instead was some sort of demon was correct. Though Being X had also complained that administering the reincarnation of seven billion souls was beyond its capacity, which was worrying on several levels.

Uriel shook his head.

"If I am getting it right, Being X interfered here." I gestured to the train station. "And caused me to reincarnate into a new world and this body." I gestured to my petite, feminine form. "He also interfered with Doctor Schugel which gave me..."

I looked down at my quad core computation orb. The cursed thing gave me great powers, but I had to pray to Being X in order for it to work to its fullest. And that came at the cost of a lack of... mental clarity. Though we had managed to turn that into a liability for Being X.

"You arranged for me to get that big bayonet. It was no Unified States project to take out Mary Sue when she inevitably went rabid."

Regret crossed his face. "Hers was a troubled soul, consumed by revenge and grief."

"Yes, yes, add her to the list of lives ruined by Being X."

The archangel, if that was what he was, gave me a cross look.

I held up a hand apologetically. "I'm not being flippant. As another plaything of that bastard I can sympathize, and I do hope you can do something for her."

Uriel sighed, seemingly in agreement.

"You know, you could have given me a bit more help; my men took... well, the casualties could have been worse. Sure, putting a sword-bayonet into Being X was the most satisfying thing, but-" I swept my arms around the train station, "clearly I didn't make it out either."

Uriel gave me a look that was sympathetic but also somewhat disturbed "The point of the Sword is to give the wielder a chance against the darkness. It does not make victory inevitable, only possible."

"Worked out great for you, then. Being X is gone; you can help all the people he wronged."

"As much as I can."

I waved a hand. "Yes, yes, we do not want an Archangel getting too creative. That probably leads to negative externalities." I knew enough theology to know that Satan was once the brightest among the angelic host.

Uriel seemed to agree with to that.

"Now, if we presume I trust all that you are saying, what will you do with me? What would you consider to be a balancing act?" A bit of hope fluttered in me. Maybe I could go back to early twenty-first century Japan. Maybe I could go back to being a male.

Many of the organizational and decision-making skills I had learned as an aerial mage for the Empire could be applied to the corporate world. After surviving the Rhine, building up and leading a rapid response battalion, and developing combined arms tactics, dominating the corporate world should be trivial.

"What do you think I would do?"

I tapped my chin in thought. Sincere or not, Uriel was at least more pleasant than Being X to converse with. "Your remit is to provide balance when another violates the rules, and that Being X's interfering with my first death was a violation; then you would be free to execute a proportional reaction."

He gave an encouraging nod.

"However, you also state that you value free will and mortal choice. This implies that if there were multiple options available then I would be given the opportunity to pick one."

"Sound reasoning." Uriel agreed.

"What are my options, then?"

There was a heavy chugging noise as a train came down the tracks. I had not seen it appear and for a moment I tensed, fearing that Uriel would push me in front of it. Instead, the train stopped at the platform.

The doors opened. It was empty.

"Take the train and you'll ride it out to the end of the line."

"End of the line?"

"What comes after. Judgment."

I frowned. From his tone there was not any more I could get out of that option. I might not have been the best of people. I had done things to survive in the War, and done more to ensure my men did as well. The more of them that lived, the more bodies I had between me and the enemy. And being a better commander made my superiors feel more favorably towards me.

Also preserving my troop's lives was a nice counterpoint to the idea that I was some bloodthirsty warmonger who cared not a whit to casualties.

"It is an option," I agreed. In its defense, destroying Being X had to be worth something. Though that hardly seemed like balancing the scales given what Being X did to me.

"Next is working for me." Uriel gestured to the black glass door in the wall behind us. The glass turned translucent and I saw an office full of white uniformed men and women working about. A few had feathery wings.

"Like some sort of guardian angel squad?"

Uriel gave a slight smile. "Not quite. But you have proven your capabilities and I can always use those with your talents."

"How long of a hitch?" I asked.

"Until you're ready for one of the other options."

I tapped my chin. Interesting. Depending on the workload, doing jobs for an archangel could have its upsides. Though it sounded like it would instead be delaying the real choice.

Still, Door Number Two had advantages. Maybe I could learn more about the system. My work could improve my odds of getting a good result out of Door Number One. Though, this option didn't have Uriel balancing the first violation Being X did to me.

And that was a heck of a marker to leave on the table.

"It has its advantages. And Door Number Three?"

Uriel pointed to the stairs. "Take those and you'll be reborn. You will get the chance that Being X denied you."

I managed to keep the smile off my face. "That does seem to be the most equitable of options. Can I have a moment to think?"

"Please take all the time. It's the least I could do, given the time it took for me to get to you."

I nodded but frowned. That was the second time he had alluded to a long wait on my part. I would admit that the first option terrified me. Even if I presumed that Uriel was being utterly sincere, the idea of Judgment was... daunting.

Worse, if this was some scheme, then getting onto that train would be the worst mistake of my life - well, afterlife.

Door Number Two was the safe bet. Yes, it would kick the can down the road, but it gave me time to learn more working for Uriel and whatever his project was. Still, I was not sure I wanted to be a heavenly agent.

I'll admit the third option tempted me. If Uriel was sincere then it was exactly what I wanted: a chance to restart without Being X's interference. While I had gotten used to being female, being a petite and young female still grated, even if in part that was due to the early twentieth century society I had been reborn into. Not that Japan was without its own patriarchal attitudes.

The chance to rectify that... was tempting. Also, it would spit in the eye of Being X. It had said I would have no second reincarnation. But I had defeated Being X; why not get another chance?

I would miss Visha and my men, but none of the options included them. And it would have been wrong for me to demand such a thing. She was... err, they were still alive.

"Do you have any other questions?"

"Did I get Being X? Really?"

Uriel gave that little shake of his head. "Yes. You did. Any questions about your options?"
"X is gone then? Good, I'd hate to have to deal with him in my new life." I bowed to Uriel. "Thank you. It's nice to see that not all inscrutable beings are prideful and unreasonable."

Looking a mix of baffled and amused, he returned the bow.

"I wish you well on your cleanup efforts." And with a wry smile I unshouldered my rifle and sword bayonet and held it out.

His amusement growing, he took the weapon. The silver on the blade glowed brighter.

"I'm sure you'll need this more than I," I said and turned heel and, without looking, back marched down the stairs.

End Prologue.


AN
As I've said those of you familiar with the Return verse, especially some of the supplemental material on my DA page have an idea where this is going.

That said, no knowledge of the Return is required to enjoy this story.

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Chapter 1 Hail Imperatrix


I woke up to crying.

A young nun in a black habit with purple hair held out a spoon. Her words were, soothing though I did not understand them, which meant I was not in the Empire nor Japan.

One word stuck out: Tauria.

I sighed. I should have expected reincarnation would go this way.

Then I looked closer at the nun. A pair of curled horns came out of her forehead. When she smiled reassuringly I could see that her canines were long and pointed.

No more than a babe cradled in the nun's arms, I looked around and saw a pale purple, spade-tipped tail flicking out and a set of wings folded on her shoulders.

Hushing me reassuringly, the nun got me to eat the broth from the large spoon. I looked back and saw my reflection in a mirror.

Seeing my own set of tiny horns and little wings, I was too busy cursing Uriel to notice I felt so comfortable in the demon nun's arms that I had resumed feeding.


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As a result of an ill-thought-out deal with an Archangel, I found myself in yet another world in a nunnery that took care of war orphans.

At least the conditions were better than in the previous orphanage I had grown up in. Part of that was that the Household Fleet and Imperial Legions made sure to keep facilities like this well supplied.

Another part was the generous patronage of the noble families, particularly Duchess SilverFlight.

During lessons, I learned that we were subjects of House BlackSky, one of the Great Houses on the Continent of Diyu. The orphanage was in the far eastern part of the House, outside the city of Bovitar.

The Nuns tried to keep us happy, but we were those children whose parents had died fighting for Imperatrix BlackSky and who had no extended family to take us in.

I spent most of my first years thinking this was merely the girl's dormitory of the orphanage until I realized the truth.

I was shocked at how young we were when Sister Clementia took us all around and read to us about the birds and the bees. Yes, the lessons were shown by way of a cartoony young woman called Silva, but it did explain why there were only female demons around.

That was another thing to get used to. Not that all of my new biology was bad; I'll admit I did like it when Sister Clementia took the time to gingerly polish my horns, and preen my wings, though I preferred the more mundane hair brushing.

A few of the other girls teased myself and Sibyl, one of my fellow orphans. We were the only two who had feathered wings. The rest, and the sisters, had bat-like membranous wings.

The more I learned about the jingoism and aggression of House BlackSky and the fear our neighbors had of us the more disquieted I got.

Fortunately, House BlackSky only had land borders with two rival powers. The longest border was with House Elena, which was also the one great demonic House larger than ours. The other, however, was more of a concern locally: we were relatively close to the grassy steppes that defined our border with House Luxon.

I was worried about being a powerless orphan.

It was something I had experience with.

I was also worried about being a powerful orphan.

I also had experience with that.

To my relief, it turned out that everyone seemed to have some magical talent, which made sense. I had been born into a people who were, for lack of a better term, demonic. We had wings, tails, horns, and fangs. Some of us had more demonic features, like hooves, and specific magical talents. A few things were universal, like having retractable claws and an affinity for pyromancy.

I also sympathized with the Sisters. Raising children was hard enough. The trouble was magnified greatly when dealing with children who, figuratively, always had matches and knives.

Still, if everyone had magic, then any talents I displayed would make me less of a standout. Reading between the lines of the popular stories we were read and the plays we would sometimes go into town to see, the BlackSkyvian military had an insatiable appetite for manpower.

I was pondering my moves. Joining the Household Fleet or Imperial Legions was low on my list of future options. If I had magical talent, then something in the civilian world could suit me, presuming there was no conscription to worry about.

I would still do my patriotic duty; there were plenty of artificer guilds making things for the war effort.

Every month or so, potential parents would come and visit. I had gotten used to seeing pairs and even larger groups of young women talking with the Sisters and watching us play.

Such relationships were becoming more accepted in Japan before my first life ended. And they were quite on the quiet end in the Empire in my second life. Here they were the norm, and apparently a biological necessity.

It was not something I paid much attention to. Beyond my age, I had already gone through life as a young woman and I failed to see how being a young demon girl would be all that different from a young human girl.

That would turn out to be a mistake on my part.

Before the prospective parents left, they would make comments and talk with some of the girls and then our orphanage would get a bit less populated.

I was not sure if I wanted to be adopted or not. It was a way to get some higher social status and maybe get a room to myself; but I was not too attached to that.

I did spend a lot of time with Sister Clementia brushing my hair and reassuring me after the prospective parents had left.

Not that I wanted to be adopted, but the other girls who were not as cute as I was were, which seemed unfair. My blonde hair was far prettier, and my horns were neither ungainly nor tiny.

I suppose it could have been my wings, but then Sibyl got adopted and she had hooves in addition to grey-feathered wings.

The regular visits of Duchess SilverFlight were a bright spot. I suspected she had ulterior motives, but I had my own reasons for getting in good with a member of the noble families.

Her hair was dark blue, almost cobalt, and ran between her wings. She normally wore a backless gown with frills and ruffles; except when she was giving flying lessons.

I'll confess to impatience. Being part of a species where everyone could fly, except for the very young, meant I could indulge without fear of conscription. Well, once my wings grew strong enough.

Duchess SilverFlight always brought little puzzles that required dexterity to solve, either by using your hands in the right spot or the right magical push. One puzzle was a set of wind chimes in a glass jar and we had to try to get them to chime without touching the jar. She was also generous with teething rings, chew-sticks, and other treats.

Something the Sisters were a bit stingy with for the younger girls.

We had the duchess to thank for our uniforms. It was nice to have warm and clean clothes. The nuns at my previous orphanage had tried their best, but having a duchess take a personal interest did make a difference.

Still, wearing pleated skirts with ribbons holding up the sleeves and little ties was a bit humiliating. And the green beret and tan and green plaid uniform was not exactly the most flattering Yet I swallowed my pride and tried to be the most apt and eager pupil whenever the duchess visited.

Based on my past experiences, being adopted into her family was a long shot, but getting some patronage from her as I grew up was more likely. Beyond bellicosity, House BlackSky had some other similarities to my old Empire. In both, a strong meritocratic sentiment balanced an imperial family and a noble class. Though many of the nobles had been bestowed their titles for achievement as much for blood.

It was a heady combination, and one I was prepared to leverage.

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By the time I was five years old, I had started to get used to my new life. I was able to focus on concrete plans. Being given my own calendar helped me organize when I wanted to learn various tasks. Of all the new units and bits of timekeeping the thirteen month year was the strangest, but I got past that.

It helped that Sister Clementia never looked at me like I was strange or off-kilter. She was always there for me.

I may have felt a bit guilty for pursuing the duchess's good graces, but Clementia wanted me to find a happy family. I had learned that our horns were not just decorative. They were a sort of antennae and part of a sense organ that allowed us to feel the emotions of others.

I was happy that I had become practiced in managing such emotions and their feedback whenever Sister Clementia brushed my hair.

"This is very... interesting needlework," Duchess SilverFlight said. "Your attention to detail is impressive."

"Thank you, your grace," I said, trying for a courtly tone. Silvan Latin was a complicated language. It had some similarities to the Ildoan I had never learned more than a smattering of, and while I knew a bit of Latin from my previous life I was never conversant in it.

The duchess smiled and sipped her tea. "Though, I find your engraving to be exquisite." She ran a hand over the three thumb-thick crystals I had etched patterns onto. When hung, they would gently attract air spirits, or kami, and thus they would never stop chiming.

It was a simple enough trinket but if it impressed the duchess then that was a good mark.

"Have you enticed a Zephyr of your own?" the duchess asked. I could feel that she was projecting hope and interest.

I had learned to not trust my horns too much. I could mask my own emotions to the level that even Sister Clementia seemed to be fooled most of the time. And if I could do that as a mere child, then it was obvious adults could as well. And it would be laughable if a demonic noble was not in utter control of herself.

"I have not. That might be a bit beyond me."

The duchess smiled and placed her hand near mine, being careful to leave a slight gap. Physical contact was complicated for us. It made the empathic link even stronger. Even having your hair brushed could do it. "I'm sure you'll get it. You are a very determined young girl."

I smiled and nodded. I would prefer to focus my attention on less martial skills. It took a bit to swallow my pride and ask for dance lessons or things like needlepoint. Enchanting and communing with spirits had their martial applications, but they were safer than showing great skill in fire, explosives, or evocation magic.

If being talented in more feminine arts and arcane could get me the patronage of a Duchess then so be it.

"I see you're wearing the new dress."

I plastered on a smile and twisted a bit. It was more of a romper and was even frillier than our uniform. "It's great, Duchess SilverFlight!"

She sipped her tea. "You look like a little princess."

I nodded and managed to get my tail to swish. It was galling to play pretty princess but there was a method to my madness.

Yes, like the old Empire, House BlackSky was a meritocracy in terms of promotions. And obviously, BlackSkyvians would put women in command positions. What alternative was there? Only about one-fifth of our house were non-demon subjects. They could not all be our commanders.

Still, I felt comfortable from past experience that going for a more feminine air could keep me from the eyes of military recruiters. Surely, they would look askance at the idea of a princess officer.

Still, I did have some regrets for this course of action. I had yet to see one in person, but House BlackSky had their own version of aerial mages, though instead of a simple harness, skis, or a mount, they used a full-plate bodysuit.

It gave even more performance and offensive power. Ritual Plate was the primary means of offensive firepower in the Household Fleet and a major branch of air support in the Legions.

That versatility made the suits highly in demand. There was considerable specialization for a variety of roles. Thus the House needed thousands of recruits to keep the Fleet and Legions staffed.

If I showed too much talent, or worse, interest, in that area my plans would crumble.

"Tauria?"

On the other hand.... the Fleet and Legions needed even more Ritualista maintainers and support staff for each Ritual Plate Pilot. So, if I had to be pulled into the military world, then being a maintainer, and later a production-line developer and an efficiency expert, would be a far more likely path to a comfortable career.

Especially as the duchess had influence in guilds and even owned some artificer lines. She had great pull in many areas. I would prefer to work as a civilian, but I was not one to shirk my duty if it came to that.

"Tauria DiamondDust?"

I looked up and, mortified, bowed my horns in submission towards her. Ignoring the Duchess was a major breach of protocol. "Please forgive me, your grace; do you need my Apology?"

The Duchess blinked then laughed. "Oh, there is no need for that."

"I insist," I said, recalling one of the protocol lessons we had been given, though it was more of an analysis of an opera we had seen the previous day. I will give House BlackSky this, their theater was less stodgy than the bloated productions of the Empire.

"There is no need," the duchess assured. "But if you will give me an indulgence."

"Anything!" I gushed.

"The Feast of DarkStar is coming up next month."

"May we remember her loss," I automatically said. It was part of being ruled by an ancient demonic empress: the things that were important to her were important to us.

Thus her granddaughter, who was betrayed and murdered during an invasion - from what I had learned so far, we had been the ones invading - millennia ago, was still honored.

In fairness, the subsequent battles after DarkStar's death and us turning on the traitors of House Vephar had expanded our House's holdings to the entirety of the Vanis subcontinent and laid the foundation for House BlackSky's primacy.

In a realpolitik sense, I could understand our Imperatrix making a point to celebrate the time she wiped out a rival nation for daring to betray the Imperial Family. It also made me acutely aware of the kind of nation-state that angel had sent me to live in.

And while the House was admirably pluralistic when it came to faiths, there was something of a civic religion. Nothing so much as a mandatory doctrine, more a collection of almost-secular holidays, rituals, festivals, and events. House BlackSky did pride itself on the superiority of their values and culture. One of them was readily glomming onto anything that could strengthen the House.

"Have you thought about anything you would like for the feast?"

I shook my head. "I was merely going to pray for loving homes for the rest of my sisters here, and failing that, to have the Sisters of the Order of Our Hallowed Lady continue to take care of us, with your generous patronage. of course."

The duchess's silver lips turned. "My, you are a cynical little one."

I flushed. "That's not um.... what I really wanted sounded too frivolous..." I grasped at straws to backfill and keep her favor.

"Oh, what did you want then?"

I choked and blurted out the most girly thing I could think of.

And that was how I got a pink puffy gown and matching tiara for my fifth Feast of DarkStar.

++++++

I was a happy girl when I outgrew that damn gown. Though given my slow growth rate, I was worried I would end up about the same diminutive size I was previously.

Better, it had been over eight years and I had not seen either Being X or Uriel.

The former hopefully meant that that bastard was good and dead; the latter hopefully meant that Archangel was done meddling with my life. To my concern, Being X had previously renewed meddling in my life after I had turned nine when I had been forced to test that horrible quad-core computation jewel prototype, but I would take what I could get.

I was still miffed at the trick Uriel had pulled.

` But it had been my fault for assuming that someone dedicated to balance and the minimal interference in mortal lives would try to put me into a 21st century Japan as a guy, and not into another belligerent imperial nation as a slight blonde girl with magical powers.

I tried to make sure my abilities did not stand out. Or at least not in a destructive way. While other orphans needed to be given lessons on how to control their abilities to generate fireballs and spent supervised time in a gravel pit down the hill from the nunnery burning rocks and practicing other feats of marksmanship, I was trying to attract little air kami.

While the other girls had the occasional accident that had to be cleaned up with buckets of water and timely intervention with the Sisters, I achieved precise control and then stopped trying to show off.

Sister Clementia did help me as I had a fair skill with lobbing magical napalm or lances of fire. But that struck me as the kind of thing that would get Legionary recruiters after me and I was trying to show the duchess how good I would be under her wings.

Raiding the nunnery's library got me started, but then I begged Sister Clementia to pick up books down in Bovitar when she went to get supplies so often that she brought me into the city to get me a library card, years before any of the other orphans in my age group.

This had an unintended bonus that library cards served as a de-facto national ID in House BlackSky. Which made a sort of sense. The Unified States, like its counterpart in my first life, had been settling on using motor vehicle licenses as a de-facto ID. Also the Japan I had left had been starting to give out personal identification numbers to supplement their somewhat at-hoc identification system.

All and all, that meant I could do more than borrow books with the little card in its leather folder. If I wanted to get on a train or flight to the capital about eight hundred miles to the west I could. Sure, it would take me using most of the money I had been scrimping and saving, and sweet-talking the ticket taker and conductor, but if I had to I could escape to the City of Trees.

I did not think it would come to that.

For one, I was more than willing to put in the effort and was able to read well above the level people expected of me. Rounding out that image of a young, eager prodigy was my habit of searching for books to do more lessons in attracting and caring for Zephyr and in enchantments of basic items.

Again, I avoided the more aggressive and openly destructive arts. This engendered less supervision, the books were easier to get from the librarians, and fit in more with the image I was presenting, that of the studious autodidact.

The problem came with the other lessons. I was used to swallowing my pride and learning skills to impress a boss. I had even dressed up for a propaganda tour of cheerful speeches and film-reels after I had won the Silver Wings Assault Badge.

While singing in a choir for the sisters was... troubling, I took comfort that there were plenty of secular songs, and some from the other faiths common in this part of the House. Though many of the ancestor worship ones were... odd given we were a race of demons. And the more animist ones reminded me a bit of Shinto.

Which, I suppose, was not too shocking, given I spent most of my days giving offerings and enticements to kami.

However, the ballet was humiliating, almost as much as the dresses. Still, I took a bit of pride when I ended up having some of the other girls agreeing to go into the city to take lessons too, as they were loath to be shown up by me in such things.

The worst part was that, while I eventually outgrew that gown, the duchess had since gotten me other finery. At least they were more complimentary. Pink was not a good color for me. And they were not overly endowed with frippery.
It also was a cost savings; every dress the duchess got me was one less the Sisters had to buy, saving them money to spend on the other girls.

They also represented a tangible investment the duchess was putting into me. It would be impolite and imprudent to not wear them, especially to the formal occasions, such as the opera nights or events showing off us orphans to guild masters at the various artificer halls in the city.

This was the exact business environment I had been dreaming of returning to. If I had to wear a little green dress with bows on my tail and my wings perfectly turned out, then so be it.

This was also when I met a few of the humans and other non-demon subjects of this new empire. They were polite enough and it was heartening to see that our Imperatrix valued their input and contribution to society and the war effort.

Despite the propaganda spread by our enemies, the last empire I lived in also valued the contributions of our various client states and minor groups. It made economic sense. An angry, and potentially rebellious, faction was a net drain on a polity, while a contented one with a path of advancement and degree of self-determination was a productive one.

Regardless of the species, I tried to be the most charming and played up the bright orphan willing to do her part for House BlackSky and who was full of skills that would be useful.

And if part of that meant I had to swallow my pride and act interested in art and culture and feminine things to ensure the patronage of a noble supporter of the arts, then I would do that.

It was nice that the duchess clearly favored me. Alas, she was a very busy woman.

But Sister Clementia was always there for me. Most of her wards had been adopted which gave her plenty of time to deal with me. And we were fortunate that... to be honest not too many new war orphans had been produced.

Or at least ones that had no choice other than to go to us.

Flying was an area where I let my competitiveness show. I was less worried as the vast majority of the citizens of the House could fly, and the skill of flying unaided seemed to be something that was more useful for sport than war. That was the reason why I was shying away from marksmanship lessons.

It was nice that my wings had grown strong enough, and while it was different than being an aerial mage, being able to take to the air was a treat. I was also able to try to adapt my skills and what I had learned from back then.

One side effect was that whenever I flew the air kami were interested and would nip around in the vortices of my wingtips. It was worse if I had been caring for my Zephyr right before taking a flight.

No one mocked me for it, but I could tell by the looks from the other orphans that they were judging me. Still, the Sisters watched us like hawks during flight lessons, and made it clear that there were consequences for unsupervised flying.

Thus one had to add ladders, climbing equipment, and wings to the things you can't take away from baby demons. It was amazing that the Sisters managed to deal with us and not go crazy.

Holding Sister Clementia's hand, I followed her down the hallway toward the back portico of the orphanage. The building was a three-story stone construct which the Sisters tried to make homey. To one side was the dormitory for the Sisters and to the other side was the temple.

The broad porches on both sides of the orphanage had roofs to protect them which meant that in all but the most inclement weather we could get some time outside, which was good for the other girls as they tended to get a bit stir-crazy.

I knew Sister Clementia was worried for me before she spoke. I rarely saw her out of her habit but her figure reminded me a bit of Visha. Though as a demoness of course. Not that I could judge. Though I had all the more reason to curse that whole "Devil of the Rhine" nickname.

"Duchess SilverFlight is a very busy woman." Her tone was cautious and delicate. "She has many interests in this whole province. And we are not the only orphanage she is a patron of."

Nodding, I tried to mask my concerns. I was less worried about the duchess rejecting me than I was being left with no options but to go into the Imperial Legions. The Household Fleet was also a big risk. The vast majority of fliers went to them. In the Fleet I might not be slogging in the mud, but I would be more likely to be in a major deployment.

"And," the Sister squeezed my hand as her tail flicked. "At these other orphanages there are other special girls she watches for."

I put on a reassuring smile and tried to make her feel more comforted. "I am realistic, Sister. I do not expect to be adopted, and besides, no one could replace you."

It was then that we exited the back doors and stepped onto the portico. Wind whipped around as we crossed the threshold and my wings ruffled and spread a bit. That was a moment of reassurance.

And then my heart sank.

I thought the duchess' surprise for me would be another dress. I was prepared to gush over it and talk about how pretty the lace or ribbon or whatever frippery was. I felt that coming off as too much of a tomboy could be risky.

At the worst, the duchess might insist I get my hair styled, though having my wings preened and the feathers cleaned did feel nice.

I did not expect the duchess to be wearing flight armor.

For the most part she wore gowns. They were reasonably sensible ones, formal events excepted. And she did dress in a more practical bodysuit when she gave us the occasional flight lesson. During those lessons her long cobalt hair was plaited and tied up.

She bore the same hairstyle today. She also seemed to be wearing the bodysuit. At least, there were hints of it under the fitted segments of articulated metal armor that she wore.

Gold filigree and glittering runes were engraved on most of the armored sections, particularly around the greaves, gauntlets, and contoured breastplate and the bits of armor that protected where her wings met her back.

Even on the ground, I could feel the Zephyr surrounding the duchess eager to take flight. For a moment, I was considering a similar action. I knew how futile that would be. The Duchess was in Ritual Plate; I was not. Even if we had the same flight skill, she would be much faster than me.

That there were no evocation pods on her gauntlets or other weapons flasks attached was very reassuring. As was the open stance and emotions she was giving off. I knew a noble like the duchess would be skilled at hiding her real mental state, but it was reassuring that she was not openly hostile.

Even idled, power radiated off of her. I knew a single Ritual Plate represented an investment in industrial and arcane might. Given the precision required in the components, the man-hours of artificer work alone...

Showing the wisdom of our Imperatrix and military leaders, interchangeability, standardization, and mass production were used as much as possible. Given each Ritual Plate needed to be fitted to a specific Pilot, separating the components requiring customization from the expensive but standardized power-intensive components was vital. A maintenance team could resize a suit for a different pilot as a field expedient, but at a cost of time and performance.

Also, given Ritual Plate was the House's main form of aerial combat power both offensive and defensive, there were tens of thousands of the things. It was a major commitment for even a demonic empire of our size.

Given all that, it was like someone walking up to me wearing an attack helicopter or a fighter plane with emphatic purpose. As an Aerial Mage in another life I could see how intimidating this could be.

A servant in a purple and gold uniform stood by the duchess' side carrying a metal helmet with a full face mask.

Sister Clementine gave my hand another squeeze and stepped aside. "Do your best, Tauria, but don't hurt yourself."

"Duchess SilverFlight, how may I serve?" I asked, bowing my head to present my horns.

Silver lips smiled as purple eyes studied me. "You brought your Zephyr? Good. Eager. I like that."

Oh. I guess they had come to me when I stepped outside. I simply nodded.

"I know you've been looking forward to this day for a long time. Now, don't feel any pressure or worry about today's results. Most don't even try to synchronize for their first time until they're twice your age. And there's no shame in not syncing until you're Cadet-age, either. We'll always be able to try again in the spring."

"Yes, your grace," I automatically replied. I could not feel any of the other girls around. But there were a bunch of people in the duchess's livery working around something strapped to a metal chair.

My tail went straight. It was another Ritual Plate suit. There was less adornment and enchanting; it looked a bit more rugged and... simple. More ominously, it was tiny.

I then realized the servants were Ritualista and were checking the enchantments and adjusting the fit of every component.

I kept from clenching my teeth. This was why the duchess had me do ballet lessons. It helped with the grace and footwork, and everyone knew Ritual Plate was difficult to walk around in on the ground.

I glanced at the duchess and saw that, despite the armored pointed boots, she was walking as nimbly as if wearing stilettos on the ballroom floor.
And that explained all the dresses. She knew all my measurements.

Diabolical.

I managed to look eager as she led me out to the grass where the Ritualista were working. The suit was open, with many of the front plates removed or rotated out of the way. There were cables going from the suit to various containers providing fuel and telemetry. Dials were being read off and adjustments were being made.

This was a test I could not refuse. Not if I wanted to keep in the duchess's good graces.

It was clear to me why she had been spending so much time helping me learn and giving me things. A noblewoman wouldn't care for a war orphan just out of kindness. Clearly, she had seen the potential in me.

I gave some small hope that I would fail the test. Being able to pilot a Ritual Plate suit was a rare talent. Not the rarest talent the BlackSkyvian military coveted. Those who had the magical affinity towards teleportation or walking through walls or remote viewing were even rarer and more valuable.

General sorcerous and arcanist talents were also useful for things like evocation grenadiers or combat engineers.

Telekinetics were also valuable. While a kinetomancer with great precision could be very useful at taking out high value targets, or one with exceptional strength could be devastating, especially in urban fighting, those with the more common range of those talents were mostly useful in making sure cargo was properly loaded, stowed, and unloaded. House BlackSky extensively used air resupply, but even transferring material from one ship to another involved the transport of a heavy object from one moving platform to another moving platform.

Having a load mistress with an intuitive understanding of the physics involved, formal training on how to control such cargo evolutions, and a magical ability to nudge said cargo if things went wrong was unglamorous but exceptionally useful.

I had some regrets that I did not have talents in that area.

All in all, being able to pilot Ritual Plate was a one-in-a-hundred ability. And one in a thousand could fly one of the armored suits with great skill. Which... was why both the Fleet and Legions did their best to entice recruits with said capability.

I stared into the open suit. It was mostly an unpainted metallic silver but there were some purple accents and script with broad orange highlights noting it was a trainee model.

It lacked the lethal grace of the duchess' armor, which was somewhat reassuring, but I would be lying to myself if it was not enticing.

On a platform next to the arming chair was the matching helmet. The faceplate was simple and I could see the catches that would open it up to allow someone to put it on around my horns.

"It's okay to be nervous," the duchess said. "I wasn't much older than you when I first piloted."

That did not reassure me.

"When did you first fly into battle?" I asked before I could catch myself.

"My you are an eager one." Silver lips turned into a smile. "No, I was much older when I entered the Legions. Though I did spend three years as a cadet pilot before the Legion proper."

"Then why test now? Surely a suit, even a trainee one, in this size is a great expense."

"Is it?"

I paused. While a Ritual Plate suit had to be customized to a given pilot, that was not a permanent change. It could be reconfigured to allow someone else to fly it. Modularity was also designed in to allow for a suit to continue to be refitted with new parts. With this many in service in so many roles, it was vital to be able to maintain, repair, and upgrade... to keep a given suit in service as long a feasible.

A Ritual Plate suit could be in service for decades, though the suit at the end would only retain a relatively small number of its original parts. Once the main structural, power, and propulsive systems were replaced it was hard to argue that it was the same suit, even if many of the external cosmetic element, and pilot-support, features were retained. However, this modularity did allow for amortization, where the costs of upgrading suit capability could be spread out over time via a rolling upgrade. It was a complicated question of when it was no longer tenable to upgrade a given suit iteration, when it saved money to simply go with a new airframe, and the cost/benefit exchange of cutting-edge performance versus merely-sharp performance.

A training suit would be designed for greater simplicity and robustness. Its only concerns in terms of battlefield capability would be ensuring a pilot starting on one could acquire skills that would be relevant when she transferred to a combat suit.

Thus, one could amortize the massive initial cost of a trainee suit over many years. Maintenance would be a regular operating cost but for an organization like the Fleet or the Legions the extra marginal cost of having Ritualista maintain and fit out a few trainee suits, even in such a diminutive scale, would be low. As would ordering trainee suits in all sizes.

Though there was one flaw in that logic. This was the duchess' trainee suit and these Ritualista were in her livery.

"You have your own mercenary company?" I asked. That... was not something I had considered. Was the duchess looking to recruit me into her personal military force?

Compared to being in a state military there were pros and cons to being a mercenary.

The Duchess gave a warm chuckle. "Technically, yes. But I am in good standing with the Guild. I am also an Imperial Legion Volantes Tribune in the Rorarii."

I nodded. She was a mid-level active reserve officer. And her rank would put her in charge of a Ritual Plate Wing or on a similar level of authority.

"What kind of contracts do you take on?" I asked, letting some eagerness come out. If I was to be roped into being a mercenary pilot by my patron it would do to figure out what tasks she did.

Being in the Legions might be the better option.

"Oh, nothing too glamorous," she assured.

I was skeptical.

"My family has interest in many artificer halls and industrial and research concerns that make components minor and major. Thus I retain about a Squadron of pilots for testing and evaluation of new components."

I perked up. That was exactly the kind of rear-echelon, nay, civilian, job that would suit me. Especially if it was a way for me to fly without getting any risk. Potentially. I had had a bad experience the last time I was a test pilot. Hopefully, the House had saner researchers than Doctor Schugel. "That sounds like fascinating work."

"It is the least I could do, and is a way to allow veteran pilots to keep flying."

My tail drooped. Of course. The duchess finds new recruits, and then sends them to the Fleet or Legion to get trained up, and then after their term, she reaps the rewards.

I nodded thoughtfully. "Very generous, your grace."

The duchess waved me off. "I've been keeping you too long. Shall we get you suited up?"

My first step was not into the flight armor. One of the Ritualista, who had pink hair cut into a bob, took me back inside where I changed into a bodysuit.

This one was also cut in my size and, by my guess, was fully custom. At least it was not pink, though it was lavender with some painted-on ruffles. The material was thick and stretchy, but thankfully it was not skin tight. Though, it was a bit less baggy than the flight suit I wore as an aerial mage.

There were padded sections and a few ports and areas that had locking points. Being dressed in it was uncomfortably personal and it did not help when the Ritualista assured me that since this would be a short flight I would not need to use any of the other features.

I had been an aerial mage for the Empire. I knew about the embarrassing biological necessities that came with long-duration flight. Though one nice thing about being an aerial mage was our sortie time was usually too short for that to make a difference.

Regaining my dignity, I held my tail and head high as I walked back outside. Sister Clementine gave me a hug, her wings folding over mine.

The duchess once again came over and took me to the arming chair. The Zephyr that followed me around were buzzing with anticipation.

Ritualista fussed over me as they let me sit down into the armored flight suit. Though in this case, a trainee suit was more armored against bumps and light crashes than enemy fire.

Quiet professional hands locked the plate and hatches over and went down a checklist. My feathers tingled as power flowed into the suit. It jumped up when the back and wing sections were bolted into place. I controlled my breathing.

This was not the most risky thing I had done. Thankfully, I was not claustrophobic, though each piece added in did make me feel more... disconnected.

Soon, I was fully encased in the silver and purple armor. I looked over at the helmet resting on its stand. That looked like the last part. The pins and needles sensation started to grow as the suit's crew turned off some of the governors and fed more power.

The duchess knelt before me. "Tauria, it's going to be okay, you're doing great."

I was?

"Just keep at it, that you've brought your own Zephyr makes this much simpler. We now have to get them to like the suit, instead of getting some unfamiliar air spirits to like you."

I lifted a gauntleted arm and gave a thumbs up. My shoulders, hips, and legs were still locked into the arming chair. Unlike the duchess's suit, my gauntlets only had a bit of plating on the back of the palm and forearms. Instead of fully articulated armor, my gloved hands were exposed. The muffled feeling grew.

"We're about to initiate the primary link," one of the Ritualista said.

There was a tingling flash that suddenly went numb. Feeling leaked back into my limbs. I lifted my arm and looked at it and then poked my other gauntlet. It was not that I could feel through the suit, but more that the suit was no longer an impediment.

Stronger was the feeling, the urge, the dream, of flight. Fed by the suit, anchored to it, my Zephyr were pushing, the air spirits eager to fulfill their nature. Even with my Ritual Plate idling, the amount of power fed into them had engorged the little whispers of air into something far more forceful.

The duchess squeezed my hand and smiled. Then she took her helmet from the waiting servant and locked it into place. It was the contoured. almost-death-mask-like face that then peered at me as she took up the smaller helmet and locked it into place.

My vision went dark for a moment as the helmet slid into place and the hatches were adjusted to allow my horns to pass through. The vision though the eyeholes was a bit restricted at first. But then a few runes came up denoting the activation sequence and the vision expanded as my view grew out.

The bolts holding me to the arming chair retracted and I flew to my feet. I felt floaty as my wings were pushed up. I stepped forward and had to remember my ballet lessons on how to balance in this position.

The problem was that while the Zephyr wanted to put me into the air, I still had the same amount of inertia. From what little I knew, Ritual Plate Pilots walked one of two ways. With the primary link active and the Zephyr pulling one's wings up, there was a floating gait that was prone to over-corrections and swaying motions. Without it active, there was a lot of exaggerated heavy stomping as one walked bearing the full mass of the metallic suit.

The duchess was still holding my hand.

"Are you ready?" she said, her voice echoing from a speaker crystal in the suit's choker.

"Yes, your grace." With the helmet on my smirk was hidden. I pulled my wings out and timed my leap and the push of my Zephyr. The spirits wanted to go fast, that was their purpose.

I might have overdone it.

But I did get off the ground.

The blast of air behind me may have bowled over a couple of the Ritualista as I shot up. A sense of acceleration and freedom came to me. Here one first learned to walk, then to swim, then to fly. A lot of swimming lessons actually were basic flight lessons in how to move one's wings and build up strength.

But as much as flying as a demon girl was a joy, it had nothing on the pure speed and power of being an aerial mage.

The duchess gave a whoop of delight and flapped her own wings to dart up into the sky.

For a moment I was lost in trying to show the wrong skills to my patron. Now I wanted to show off. I waited for her to meet my current altitude, then went into a dive and began accelerating.

Besides, if a duchess had decided I was to be a Ritual Plate pilot, then it was my best option to show her the wisdom of her decision and just how good I could be.

I glanced back and saw that she had caught up. Trimming my wings I turned out of the dive and tried to give a level acceleration. I was not as fast as with my computation orb, but I was sure that this particular suit had some version of training wheels.

Either way, having wings and magical thrust was a nice combination. I tried to up my maneuvering but it was hard to shake the duchess.

Not that I had any plans to beat her. Short of falling on her and trying to bite and claw and use my tail, I had no weapons.

Granted, I had done something like that in my first battle. But I had no intention of self-destructing this flight armor.

Despite the distance and despite her mask, I saw the duchess slow down slightly and tilt her head at me.

I sensed a feeling of mirth pulse towards me and the duchess rocked toward me in a blur.

"Oh, come on!" I cried as I rolled and poured on the power to gain attitude. While I held the distance I could gain more speed and had room to maneuver. Of course, she was toying with me.

The duchess shot past me and the wake nearly destabilized me as she stopped and, in a maneuver that would make me wince in my 203rd days, rapidly decelerated to match my heading.

"You truly are gifted," she transmitted, her voice coming in through my helmet's internal speakers.

I took a moment to compose myself. "Thank you, your grace," I said, giving as warm of a response as I could. She had me. The duchess utterly had me.

"Let us go down and have a celebratory lunch," she said happily and then took off back to the nunnery.

Part of me wondered how far I could go on a borrowed Ritual Plate suit, but I knew she would catch me. Also, while there was technically less sausage in my diet than in the Empire, the food was still very... Alpine. The meats and sausages did seem of a better quality here. But I did spend most of my previous life on military rations.

I followed her and at least had the pleasure of sticking the landing despite these cursed boots.

Taking off the helmet was a bit more challenging and I needed some help.

The duchess had removed her own helmet and did not even wait to get either of us out of the suits before having lunch where she could discuss my future.

++++++

The Prefect Volantes Centurion in her black Legionary uniform eyed us. Her face was lean and her dark eyes scanned over the crowd. For a ceremony like this she wore a ceremonial helmet with a red crest. The handful of us stood before one of the titanic hangars of Castra Bovitar.

Wings of Ritual Plate were on maneuvers above us, VTOLs of various sizes were transporting Legionaries and armored vehicles, and vast airships were being maneuvered. I was familiar enough with the latter in my previous life. The Empire was fond of Zeppelins, and had even used them to transport aerial aages.

Which made sense; one of the main limits on an airship was lift capacity; and when it came to firepower per pound aerial mages were extremely efficient.

Ritual Plate had a similar dynamic of being extremely powerful, but expensive, per pound. Thus, it was natural for House BlackSky to develop the capability of supporting Ritual Plate Pilots via airship. It fit in well with our mobility doctrine.

Sitting near the far eastern frontier of House BlackSky, this base served as a major forward operating position for elements from the First Home Fleet and had several Legions assigned here. There was even lift capacity to deploy a full Legion.

Compared to the facilities in the capital of Silvana, Castra Bovitar was a bit lacking in true heavy firepower. Thus, a pair of Battlecruisers, two fleet carriers, and a fleet torpedo boat tender were assigned here, plus all their escorts and supporting forces. They were all capital ships, but smaller and faster than the true heavies of the Household Fleet. And with the capital only eight hundred miles away, this base should keep House Luxon thinking twice about attacking our eastern border.

And it would reassure our ally to the north the barely-a-Great-House House Andromache. To our south was the Gaudia Sea, making this province a bit of a finger sticking out of our empire's territory.

That we were relatively close to the capital and bordered with multiple bodies of water - the Gaudia Sea, Lacus Superum, and the Great Bazala Lake - which other houses also had access too kept this from being a sleepy frontier province, unlike other areas in our sprawling Great House, let alone some of the offworld colonies.

"Step forward, recruit number one!" the centurion bellowed. "This is your chance to get out. Will you take it?"

The mousy-looking girl shook her head no. She had white hair in a pixie cut. Despite her meek posture her tail was straight. She was a few years older than me. I doubted she had needed special dispensation.

The centurion nodded. "Then swear."

"I swear by the various gods and unbreakable oaths that I will follow my commander wherever she may lead me. I will obey orders enthusiastically and without question. I will relinquish the protection of BlackSkyvian civil law and accept the power of my commanders to put me to death without trial for disobedience or desertion," the white haired girl said clearly and without stumbling at the end.

This would not be the first time I had dealt with an Imperial military with such strict rules of obedience.

"I promise to serve under the Legion's standards for my allotted time of duty and not to leave before my commander discharges me. I will serve BlackSky faithfully, even at the cost of my life and respect the law with regard to civilians and my comrades," the mousy girl concluded, her tail curled behind her.

"Congratulations!" the centurion boomed. "You are now a soldier of House BlackSky." She went to the amber-skinned girl with a shaved head. "Next!"

"And the same goes for me!" that girl declared.

The centurion chuckled and then gave her congratulations.

After a few more recruits went through she looked down at me. Her tail swished.

I went through the whole oath with my full gusto.

I was eleven. And just after the Feast of DarkStar I had volunteered as a Legion cadet pilot.

Yes, I was aware that I had done the very thing I had spent my short life trying to avoid: joining an imperial military as a young girl.

I had my reasons.

It came down to two primary ones: the perils of having a Legionary flying officer duchess as my patron, and how the BlackSkyvian military calculated time served.

Duchess SilverFlight was a great teacher and valued my skills. That training suit basically became mine as I used it more and more over the few years I had access to it. I had honed my skills and had become a fixture of her talks and among the young potential pilots she had found.

I learned the ins and outs of controlling an intricate collection of arcane enchantments which gave me an advantage over those who did not have regular access to such an expensive piece of equipment.

The problem was that the duchess saw me as an investment.

As I got older there would be a pressure to enlist.

I did not begrudge her for this. She had put a lot of time and money into an orphan and wanted to see a return on her investment. Especially if said orphan demonstrated skills that the House could use.

I might deplore war as a waste of lives, resources, and economic output, but if a nation-state must have a military then it does need skillful personnel.

The duchess had no legal recourse to punish me if I did not enlist. In theory, once I emancipated myself, I could leave the nunnery and get a job anywhere I wanted. I had the skills.

Unfortunately, most of my contacts were through... the duchess.

She never once brought up the possibility of her using her pull to blackball me. She didn't need to.

In trying to show my soft skills to Duchess SilverFlight I ended up trapping myself. I had taken this realization with my usual stoicism.

The situation would get worse the older I got. And if a major war kicked off, the pressure would become untenable.

It was not a question of if I would be forced to join the military, but of when.

Thus my choice was enlist in the Imperial Legion, Household Fleet, or an Auxilia.

The Auxilia would be a lesser commitment, but I worried that might offend the duchess more than if I had simply skipped out on military service entirely.

The Household Fleet had far more Ritual Plate which gave me more options in finding a calm rear posting to serve out my term. However, they also used Ritual Plate far more frequently, as, again, that was the Fleet's main striking force. The large Fujiwara Aerial Torpedo was powerful and gave the Fleet a great offensive punch, but they were expendable munitions. They were also heavy and weight was everything when it came to Fleet logistics. Where a Ritual Plate Pilot could do many sorties, provided she survived.

In fairness, both the Legions and the Fleet did a lot of cross training for their pilots. They even had the same equipment and models of Ritual Plate. Well, outside of some specialized modifications for those who served on submarines and other postings that risked an excessive amount of sea spray.

Both salt and water had a metaphysical grounding effect on magical enchantments. Thus saltwater was a nightmare to proof systems against. That we even had a submarine fleet, small as it was, showed the ingenuity desperation could bring.

That and one of our rivals to the southwest, House Trosier, was a major naval power. And they had an impressive submarine fleet. Fortunately, our ally House Alecto disliked Trosier even more than we did, and was also a naval power, and willing to help us with technical expertise.

I had to admit: I came down to the Imperial Legions because that was where the duchess had her commission.

I knew what service to join.

I knew my joining was inevitable.

The question was: When would I join?

And this came to the second point. Being in the Legions, or the Fleet, was a twenty year term.

If I waited until adulthood and then succumbed to the pressure, I would expect to have nearly two decades of risk of dangerous duties, less year or so of training and light duty at the start.

And that was if I did not sign up as an adult during a major war. Someone personally trained by Duchess SilverFlight? I could see myself being thrown into combat right after the Ritualista got a suit fitted during my oath.

However, the clock on that twenty year term included cadet programs.

House BlackSky recognized that training made a vast difference for a pilot's performance. The cadet program was a way to attract potential pilots of special talent and train them up. This gave them a leg up over other recruits who might be wearing an RP suit for the first time. Instead of the minimum age of sixteen, though they seem to prefer a little bit older, for the Legions, the cadet program allows people two or three years younger.

Thankfully House BlackSky was not so desperate that they would send children into battle. Things were not quite so dire as they were for my previous Empire.

This meant that there was every benefit for me to get into the cadet program as early as possible. If I had to be in the Legions then it is in my best interest to showcase my abilities.

And this was best done by showing off my skills at the youngest age. Further bonuses were that this gave me more time to train before I ended up in active service, and every year as a cadet was one less I would have to be an active pilot.

Really, being a cadet at eleven was not so bad; by this time in my last life I was commanding a battalion.

Further, volunteering for the cadet program at such a low age required the duchess to petition for an exception. She had to put her reputation on the line to argue to the Legions why I, in particular, deserved special dispensation.

Thus she had to spend some political capital so I could show the duchess just how gung-ho I was. And how right the duchess was for finding me and giving me this chance.
Thus I turned a situation where I could have lost her patronage into one that strengthened it.

All in all, my plan was to spend a few years as a cadet then, hopefully, get into full training rotation. And, if I was lucky, we could be in relative peace. That would mean maybe another year effectively knocked off my obligation.

Even better, the standard route for new pilots was to spend a term or two in the Scouting Branch getting seasoned. Sure, the duty involved a lot of long, boring recon patrols, but I was well aware of how good a boring billet was. That most of Scouting Branch was deployed as half squadrons on tiny, cramped Venture class scout airships that had limited amenities was a downside, but it beat slogging around in ground support operations.

And after all that, I would get my first combat posting. And that was only if I didn't get some sort of rear posting as a flight instructor.

If I played my cards right I could have at least a quarter, likely a third, of my term spent in various training posting, and maybe get out when I was barely over thirty. If I got lucky maybe I could use my connections with the duchess to get a position testing equipment for the Legions.

I might have ended up stuck in the military again, but this time, without Being X's sabotage, I was not worried about complications.

I smiled as the last of the cadet recruits swore in and we all saluted the BlackSkyvian banner. "Hail Imperatrix!"

End Chapter 1


Poor, poor Tanya.

She's trying her best but in many ways she's her own worst enemy. Especially when Being X is out of the picture.

And buckle up. This is a new project of mine. I've already got six chapters written and posted as drafts, so once I get some more editing to those you can expect them here.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.


Chapter 2: Allegro with Aplomb


Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus inspected her cadet Squadron with flickering orange eyes. Her green hair was pulled back in a tight braid. There were a couple tattoos on her dusky cheeks. Her tall, voluptuous form was in contrast with the obvious expectation of an experienced warrior.

Well... present company excluded. And it was true that the average beauty level of the Household Fleet and Imperial Legions would be high.

Her black uniform was crisp and the awards on her chest and hair pins were easy to read. Impressing someone like Prefect Centurion Quirinus would look good in my file. But if I impressed her too much I would be sure to be given posting on the front. Probably some colonial hotspot in an offworld backwater.

Thankfully, that was still years away. I had plenty of time. We were meeting in a hangar. Unlike the cavernous airship hangars, this one, while still large, was more sized to maintaining and storing VTOLs.

"I am pleased to say that you have managed to, eventually, not embarrass yourselves with training suits. Congratulations on family connections, scholarship, patronage and many Aurei being spent to give you this opportunity."

The Centurion's tail flicked as her eyes went over us. "Most of us are lucky to get a few months in a training suit and our betters hope that we can learn the ropes enough to not damage a real Ritual Plate too badly with our mistakes."

She gave a fanged smile. "You girls will not have that luxury. I know that imperial edict waives the cost of Ritual Plate in most circumstances. But if I deem that you broke something because you were too cocksure and were showing off, being stupid, or anything other than acting as a paragon of BlackSkyvian virtue deserving of this chance, then the repair costs will come out of the stipend the Imperatrix so generously bestows upon you."

I nodded slightly. A Legionary purchased her personal kit. It was an old tradition, but one that had been adapted to the modern day. Namely, the Legionary's bonus upon enlistment covered those expenses. Still, that allowed for a Legionary to get some customization, and upgrades, to her gear, provided her Centurion approved of it. It also meant that upon the end of her term of service any such small arms and kit were her property. The expectation was that gear was to be maintained, especially if she took the financial enticement of reserve service.

But another side effect was that far more expensive equipment could also be personally purchased for service, if one had the funds. It was rare for a Legionary, or Fleet Officer, to bring her own Ritual Plate, but a few noble families kept up the tradition.

I even heard rumors that some madwomen - apologies, when you have that much money you are eccentric - bought and then brought their own tanks. But that seemed just barracks room gossip. Not that a tank was more expensive than a Ritual Plate suit, quite the contrary, but an armored vehicle was so much larger and heavier.

The Centurion's eyes went past me and to the young Baroness VioletBlood on my left. "And no, those of you who could have Mommy buy you a suit outright will not be able to beg your family to get out of this debt. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Centurion!" we shouted and saluted.

"Good. The Imperatrix, in her generosity, via her daughter House Legate AshRain, through her representative Castra Legate Evanda, commander of this base, and Volantes Legate Aucto, commander of us pilots, have seen fit to allow you to continue training."

Standing before us in racks that looked like vertically-upright and open caskets was a line of Ritual Plate suits. Which explained why we had been ordered to appear in our sub-armor bodysuits.

The Ritual Plate were a matte silver and looked like they had been refitted several times. Still, they were in good working order and I could feel that their runes, while not elegant, were in good order. Compared to other models of Ritual Plate, they looked relatively plain, but many of the bare spots on the armor had the clear locking points and connectors for mission modules

"These are Polydora Mark 5 suits. Or at least their Ritualista have sworn they've been updated to an equivalent-performance refit package from their original Mark 2A frames, which is impressive as it is pushing the limit of their core architecture. I'll admit I might have worn one of these myself, though an earlier Mark, back when I didn't have the luxury of spending a few terms merely training in one." Despite her harsh tone, the Centurion looked at them fondly.

She looked over us with another sharp smile. "Don't be so disappointed. If you want a suit that can do strike missions, air superiority, or ground attack then these are it."

For my part I was not disappointed. Half a year of cadet training had been very useful, but I had long since gotten to the limits of the trainer suits. With the possible exception of the haughty VioletBlood, I had more hours in a Ritual Plate than any of the other cadets, and I was the youngest.

Though, VioletBlood was only a year and a half older than me. Like me, she was an orphan. Unlike me, she had extended family, and her parents had been nobility. But I could not hate her.

She had used her wealth to invest in flying lessons and time in her own trainer suit. And while I doubted her motives for enlisting in the Legions were as pure as mine, she was a competent flier and worked hard in her studies.

"Why go with a Telephe, Harmonia, or Sarpedona model RP that can do one thing when you can have a suit that handles all three of the major Ritual Plate roles?" The Centurion paused. "That was a question. Cadet Optio FangStrike?"

"Cadet Optio" was, functionally, a courtesy rank. Ritual Plate Pilots started as Centurions of the Volantes specialization. Pilots who were not cadets, that is.

We cadets were given the rank just below Centurion, optio, but with the "cadet" prefix to make it clear to even the most meat-headed hoof-slogger that we had no authority to order her around.

The mousy girl who had sworn the oath at the same time as me braced. "Because a specialized suit does not have the deficiencies of a multi-role platform."

The Centurion nodded. "What are those deficiencies?" she turned to me "Cadet Optio DiamondDust"

"A fully updated Polydora with a Strike Package does not have the same Lance power as a Telephe. While ranges are comparable, the Polydora lacks the systems to allow for the same level of evocative power and number of shots. In its defense, a Polydora with such a configuration does still have a longer range and more powerful strike capability than non-Telephe suits."

If the Ritual Plate Wings were the Household Fleet's main form of power projection, then the Telephe Squadrons were their main form of strike power. An attack from these suits had the ability to take out major, and well-defended, targets like capital ships or ground facilities. The downside was the pilot had to be comfortable carrying the incredibly - and worryingly - energy-dense conformal flasks that powered those Lance Batteries.

That they were not flying deathtraps despite that was a sign of the value and expertise put into developing the Telephe. If command wanted a strike platform that could only be used once, then there was the Fujiwara Aerial Torpedo.

The Centurion motioned for me to continue.

"Similarly, a Polydora configured in an air superiority, or interceptor, role has weaker performance curves than a Harmonia. Though the Harmonia line of Ritual Plate has their own specializations. Again, if a Harmonia is not available a Polydora in this role is better most other suits."

She grunted in mild approval. "What suits would be better?"

"Strike Flight Leaders often have stronger Zephyr and their Telephe suits tuned for greater agility. In the right hands, that would be a not-unacceptable understudy to a Harmonia. And a Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role Suit is superior to a Polydora in nearly every way, but that is their purpose."

Quirinus smirked. "And for ground attack?"

I straightened. "In overall firepower, a Polyxo configured in that role is rather close to a Sarpedona. However, it is lacking in ammo capacity, in protective systems, and low-speed maneuverability. The Sarpedona is designed to soak up a lot of ground fire, at the cost of high-speed and high-altitude performance. But, with the same exceptions as before, a Polydora is the next-best option."

"The same exceptions?"

"A Telephe strike can provide an unforgettable ground support run, Centurion. It might not be the most efficient, but an enemy armored formation would not forget it."

She laughed at the image of a squadron of RP suits using ship-killing weaponry on a tank brigade. "Good. Given those failings, why do we even bother with Polydora? It sounds like a second-fiddle suit. Are they cheaper to field?"

"Counting only the suit itself, yes. But the cost does go up when one has to include the various mission packages to give a Polydora muti-role capability."

"Again, then, I must ask why."

"Their flexibility. Consider some small craft: the Kolibri Patrol Carrier only carries two light squadrons and a Damocles Light Carrier only has three squadrons. Having all or most of those squadrons issued with Polydora allows for mission flexibility. This applies to full wings where a handful of squadrons can be set aside with Polydora suits. Such an arrangement will require more training for the pilots as they will have to be skilled in multiple roles but it greatly enhances the utility of such smaller ships."

The Centurion pointedly looked down at herself. "I'm sorry, Cadet, I seem to not be wearing a white fleet uniform. Pretend I'm a Legionary and I actually work for a living. Why do the Imperial Legions use Polydora?"

My tail straightened as I worked to keep my composure.

VioletBlood and some of the other cadets kept straight faces but I could feel the mirth emanating from them. I had to keep the Centurion's attention if I wanted to save face. Having her ask another cadet would show she was unsatisfied with my answers.

"The same dynamic applies to the Legions, Ma'am"

"Please elaborate."

"A typical Legion has a Reinforced Wing of about thirteen Squadrons. Most of them are Sarpedona ground attack Squadrons, which also give a measure of local air defense capability. Then there are two Harmonia Squadrons for dedicated air superiority, and three multi-role Squadrons to take whatever major role required."

The Centurion gave me a dry look. "Do tell."

I frowned to myself. My previous empire could have only dreamed of having such a ratio of air assets to ground troops. A Legion Wing was three times the size of my old battalion. And at ten Cohorts, the Legion it would be supporting was not an insignificant force, but it was still only four to five thousand hoof-slogging Legionaries. Support staff, maintainers, vehicle crew, and other supernumeraries added roughly another two thousand.

There had been many days on the Rhine when a force that size would have been be a rounding error.

However, BlackSkyvian doctrine was different. The Legions were an extremely mobile force that was typically deployed via air. In a military where nearly everyone had wings, it was easy to have paratrooper style insertions.

And most of our enemies also had such an innate ability with flight, meaning a large amount of mobile firepower that could also protect against air attack was vital. A Legionary RP Wing was a major expense for a Legion, however by our doctrine it was considered a vital component.

Ideally, every Cohort would have at least two RP Flights to call upon for their direct air support. Five Squadrons would be retained to the Legion HQ for reinforcement or deployment as needed. Pilot fatigue, maintenance downtime, and combat losses would reduce this ideal.

However, that fit with a combined arms doctrine even at the Cohort level. A Pilus Prior Centurion would have access to, on average, six centuries of Legionaries, a handful of Nyx light scout vehicles, some Nymph light transports, a number of Arachne artillery pieces, and the aforementioned Ritual Plate Flights.

And for most cases, that support came from various marks of Sarpedona Ritual Plate: flight armor designed for the lower speed, lower altitude, ground attack role, with the corresponding optimization of protective warding against ground fire.

This applied to the generic "infantry" cohort. There were several more variants such as those built around supporting two troops of Vestal scout/light tanks, two Troops of Triarii IFVs, one Troop of Lavin battle tanks, two Squadrons of Umbra Medium VTOLs to give the six centuries ready airborne transport, or the classic double-strength First Cohort of Evocatus Veterans with even more generous RP and artillery support.
House BlackSky had made the calculated decision to eschew conscription and focus on a smaller, more well-funded, professional force. As a proponent of individual freedom this heartened me. Though I knew how well focusing on quality over quantity worked for my previous empire.

On the other wing, House BlackSky did invest in considerable firepower and capabilities with the aim of going after numerically larger forces. Also by ingenuity, industry, adaptation, and a heartening adherence to free market principles House BlackSky was economically powerful.

Currently there were about seventy-five active Legions; a third of them were armor legions, the rest infantry and a number of Logistics Legions. About twenty-five more Legions were on Rorarii - First Reserve -status meaning they could be quickly brought into the fold. Even more were Second Reserve, which would take longer to organize, equip, and retrain, but would serve as a vast pool of manpower.

That added up to a strong force, if far smaller than my previous empire. Mitigating this was that the Household Fleet was a quarter again larger than the Imperial Legions, though much of their capacity was devoted to logistics and legionary lift.

Though our enemies were aware of our doctrine and had prepared their own counters. And we would have to learn how to counter them. So it goes.

I nodded to Centurion Quirinus. "If not for the Polydora then a Legate would have to be limited in how much ground support versus strike versus air superiority her Legion had. One of the biggest advantages of Ritual Plate is its flexibility."

"And the Polyxo?"

"Overcomes the limitations of the Polydora." I crisply replied before she could direct the question to anyone else. "It is an advanced multi-role suit that gives near-parity with a dedicated RP Suit in the three common roles."

"Then why don't we all use Polyxo?"

I laughed. "Last I checked the Palace in Silvana wasn't built out of ten-Aurei coins. The Polyxo gets that capability by being one of the most expensive and maintenance-intensive suits. Yes, an Occultia or a Svalinna cost more, but that's not much comfort; those are specialist suits - airborne long-range detection and shield projection, respectively - which rarely get deployed as a full Flight, let along a full Squadron."

Even an empire that put a breathtaking amount of resources into air power, or perhaps especially one, would spend those resources efficiently. If going to a less costly, but less flexible suit resulted in a few extra Air Groups then it would be money well spent. Same with retaining older suits and having a system to keep them upgraded even for second line use.

"Is that all?"
"No, Ma'am," I shook my head. "Unless one is a master Pilot in multiple disciplines, a Polyxo would be a wasted asset. That said, a Legate would give her eyeteeth to have her three multi-role squadrons filled with qualified Polyxo pilots."

The Centurion laughed. "You are not wrong."

She gave me an approving look and took in the rest of us. "Okay, girls. I seem to have misplaced my Ritualista so you will have to help each other fit, check, and power up your suits. Consider it a refresher in the basics. And a lesson that you are Legion Fliers; you won't always be fitting out on a nice carrier embarkation deck. Yes, I will be personally checking over each suit before we fly. Pray I do not find a fault you should have caught. Questions?"

"Where are the fuel cells?" the mousy girl asked.

"Down in the vault over there," the Centurion pointed down the hangar past a couple hulking Gladius heavy VTOLs that were being refitted. The giant craft had wings that could fold back for storage and used engines in four rotating nacelles for the lift and thrust which was required to transport a light tank, IFV, an Artillery Tormenta, or two Centuries of Legionaries. "You've just volunteered to get them. Pick a Flight-worth of girls and borrow a cart to bring them over."

I watched the four girls quickly walked off.

"Don't the rest of you wait. I want you to get fitted out and ready for some real flight lessons. The moons are out. Emuria is full while Lantia is nearly; it will be a beautiful night." The Centurion clapped.

Next to me, Optio Cadet Baroness VioletBlood gave a smile. Her pale features were crisp and her dark red hair was fine. Since we'd swore in, she had gotten a growth spurt and the newly willowy girl looked down her aristocratic nose at me.

"Well, Diamond, it shall just be like getting ready for ballet. Would you like me to help you suit up? I know you have problems with the footwear." Her tone was sweet though she did show a bit of fang, and I could feel the mirth behind her words.

I gritted my teeth. I was not enthused with my last name, less so when it was shortened into a nickname. "Are you sure, my lady? Perhaps you could benefit with more time to get familiar with your suit if you get dressed first."

VioletBlood twisted her head to face me. I could just imagine what her perfectly curled black horns were sensing of my emotions. To drive it home, I walked past her and slapped her thigh with my tail as I did so. I made sure to keep my tail filaments withdrawn; there was no need to draw blood.

Not breaking stride, I went to one of the standing Ritual Plate suits and pulled up a smoked glass plate and started running a diagnostic.

She almost snarled but then her expression became cold. "You impudent, grubby, social cli-"

"Ah, I see the two representatives from our beloved noble families are eager to get into their training," Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus interrupted, walking up to us.

"Ma'am, I am but a common citizen raised by the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady."

The Centurion gave me a dry look. "As you say, citizen-cadet. You and Lady VioletBlood still volunteered to be the opposing force for today's lessons. And please note we are not doing close quarters combat today. If you have to resort to claw-to-tail combat in a Ritual Plate, then things have gone very wrong."

I simply nodded while the young baroness gave a tiny pout.

"Are we clear?"

"Yes, Centurion!" both of us cried, and saluted in the BlackSkyvian fashion: tilting our heads then tapping index and middle finger to our exposed necks before extending them to just in front of our eyes.

The centurion laughed. "Consider it a vote of confidence in your abilities. Mind, if you prove my confidence unwarranted," she said and gave a fanged smile, "I shall have to reevaluate both of you."

++++++

Clubs could be an important way of devolving group cohesion and skills. In my first life, clubs were a vital part of the educational system. In my second life, they were less important but were still a factor in officer training.

Thankfully, the Imperial War College I had attended in Berun did not have to deal with such fripperies.

Unfortunately, I was once again a cadet.

And while the enlisted, non-com, officer dynamic was a bit different for the Imperial Legions, I was still training to become a centurion.

I would have preferred to be in a club for something like marksmanship, wargaming, pyromancy, or even care of spirits.

But I had studiously avoided displaying skill in most of those at the orphanage, all in my misguided attempt to downplay my martial skills.

Unfortunately, there was one activity I had not avoided. In a very considerate move, with my best interests at heart, Mistress Verity, my ballet teacher, had drafted a letter of recommendation to my instructors in the cadet program.

Sighing in the locker room, I massaged my feet. That was the worst part. Well the costumes were the worst part, but that was not a physical pain.

It had been explained to me that if I were to join, I would be the smallest person in the troupe. Which meant I would have a special role in the aerial parts of Allegro movements.

Demonic strength, my small size, and my wings meant I could do very impressive acrobatic work. And that had me shoot straight up to a soloist position.

Unspoken was that such skill would make the troupe look good, and thus would make the Air Group, the base, and the House look good.

I acceded to their logic and showcased my skills.

Even if I had to wear frills and sequins and....

Okay, the worst part was performing on stage. Much of the audience were Legionaries, Fleet, and their families.

Though seeing the duchess in the audience did make up for it. She was a patron of the arts, and now she could see her protege being a proper young example of BlackSkyvian class and prowess.

It was also nice to see Sister Clementia watching me, too. VioletBlood's expression when she saw them looking at me was also a treasured moment when she nearly stumbled.

Yes, my squad mate and fellow ballerina was noble herself, but a duchess was still far higher than a mere baroness.

After unlacing my slippers, I continued to frown at my toes. We healed faster than humans, which our trainers took advantage of, and the ballet troupe relished. Dancers who could recover from ankle injuries in days were very handy.

There was also the fact that soldiers who could survive trauma and heal from grievous wounds with greater speed and recovery were quite useful.

I had stripped out of the ballet leotard and dressed in my black Cadet Optio uniform. I had the flashes and silver wings of the Volantes specialty and green trim to denote my cadet status.

The other girls in the troupe, most of them Centurions, were also changing. VioletBlood was at the other end of the locker room and avoided my gaze.

"Will you be ready for flying lessons tonight?" IvyBlade asked. She had pale green skin and silver hair and often had my wing.

I shook my head. "Prefect Quirinus has us doing night landings tonight. The New Dawn is doing maneuvers and we're scheduled to take advantage of that."

The HFV New Dawn was one of the Nova class Fleet Carriers assigned to this base. It could support two Ritual Plate Wings, nearly two hundred Pilots, twenty-two Fujiwara aerial Torpedoes, a Century of Legionaries for shipboard security and a set of strong backs, and a mixed reinforced squadron of Spatha Light and Umbra Medium VTOLs. The latter were used for various search and rescue, resupply, and personnel movement roles.

With its Destroyer and Light Carrier escorts and Venture scouting force, the New Dawn and her sisters represented a major capability of House BlackSky to place an airbase at a location of a Praefectus Commodore's choosing. They and the Kanabo class Battlecruisers were, in many ways, the backbone of the Household Fleet's power projection.

The Avalon Class heavy carriers were even more monstrous, being able to deploy a whole Air Group, but House BlackSky only had six of those. Though the real power was the massive number of various fleet cargo ships.

"I wish I could have done carrier landings at your age," IvyBlade smiled.

I took in her genuine-seeming reassurance with my own ambivalent mood. Ritual Plate was maneuverable enough that landing was not too challenging. Even if your target was, say, the size of a frigate's flight deck or the receiving bay of an airship.

"Well, it won't be the same without our little mascot." She patted me on the head.

I managed to not bite her hand off.

Patronizing behavior and scheduling conflicts aside, that was the real reason I stayed in the troupe. It was more than ballet. We also did formation and acrobatic flying.

Yes, it was all a lot of pomp, smoke trails, and colorful pyrotechnics that were glorified fireworks. But it was high-status precision flying. And the more hours I clocked in Ritual Plate the better things would be for me.

IvyBlade smiled as her tail swished.

I finished dressing; she waved to me as I left.

I made my way down the base to the cadet office to pick up my mail. After checking out at the gatehouse I stepped off base and took the short walk into the northern side of Bovitar.

From here, the city sloped down towards the Lethe river. There were considerable port facilities. Bovitar was the major trade city of Eastern Province and the Lethe drained into the Great Bazala Lake.

I found a nice cafe that overlooked Victory Plaza at the heart of Bovitar. We were a few stories up on a part of the plains that had not been cut down by the river.

The plaza was near the Lethe and had the central train station on one end and the passenger terminus for river transits at the other.

I took my seat outside and exhaled. It was a nice fall day. I was nearly twelve. At least as House BlackSky reckoned it; the years were slightly longer than in my previous lives, but with shorter months.

Bonus, I had yet to hear from Being X or that archangel during this life... so far.

I was tempted to allow myself some optimism as my coffee and a little plate of chocolates was given to me by a waitress who seemed to find that my uniform was too cute.

While I had not avoided military service, I was distinguishing myself in a safe environment. It would be embarrassing to make a career out of ballet, even the mix of stage production and acrobatic flying done here. But it would be far safer than say repeated tours on the Rhine Front or even Norden.

I sipped the coffee and watched people walk about. There were a few ways to go down from North Bovitar to the city center. There were lovely stone stairs, a couple switch-backing roads. Or there was simply walking to an overlook and flying down. Or up.

Even with me trying to tamp it down, I could just feel the press of other people. The emotional mass of folks going about their lives: workers, Legionaries, Fleet Marinii, artificers, children going to school and play, many being watched by their mothers. There were even some humans and a few of the broad demographic catch all of "other".
I saw one of the Forest People, his shaggy pelt brushed and gleaming, as he walked down the street pulling a cart full of fine-grained, seasoned lumber. Large feet plodding on the cobbles, the massive fellow towered over the press of people by several feet and seemed to ignore other vehicles.

The Forest People were normally not this far East. They tended to live in the remote high forest areas of the North-South Vyhraj mountain chain to the west that divided House BlackSky into eastern and western halves.

Eastern Province did have many forested lands, especially to the northern end near the border. He was probably from an enclave out there.

The Forest People served well in the Auxilia. Yes, their great size and strength was a considerable advantage, but their true role was in woodland scouts. In those locations, they were far stealthier than people a quarter their size and had innate magic that made them very effective at reconnaissance in force.

Bovitar had nowhere the size nor cosmopolitan nature of Silvana. But few cities compared to the capital, the City of Trees. However, Bovitar was a trade hub and the major population center of the Eastern Province. It was also about as densely populated as I was currently comfortable with.

No wonder large cities tended to be rare on Diyu. Smaller settlements were far more common. There were also logistical reasons, feeding millions and millions of demons was strategically vital, especially given our special dietary needs.

Thus the large cities that did grow had some industrial, cultural, political, military justification.

But if I wanted to get a nice rear-echelon position, then Silvana had the highest number of billets. From the vast Fleet Port complexes to the War College to Castra Argentum: the headquarters of the Imperial Legions and the Household Fleet.

I suppose there were also staff positions in the Palace as well. But that seemed both too ambitious and too high profile.

My mail would at least give me a diversion while I relaxed in the cafe. The biggest was the latest Journal on Air Combat from the Imperial War College of Silvana. As a generally-available publication, there was nothing sensitive in its contents, but it was good to keep up to date with what was openly known.

There was a periodical about the care and binding of spirits. The contents of which, especially their article on mass farming of Zephyr, had me consider writing a rebuttal.

There were a few administrative missives that dealt with the paperwork that accrued even as a cadet. Though in fairness, I was responsible for my Polydora suit, which included keeping up on its service logs and ensuring the Ritualista in the maintenance pool had kept it up to date.

This was complicated that my suit got more used than most of the other cadets as it was both used for my training and for the ballet Troupe.

Finally, there were two pieces of personal correspondence.

First, I tackled the letter from Sister Clementia. The money I was sending back to the orphanage and the nunnery was helping. Well, she was being very polite.

Being a Cadet came with room, board, and a small stipend. And, my personal costs were low, the periodicals, and cafe trips were my few expenses. Though Bovitar did have some remarkably pleasant bakeries.

We were kept busy with lessons and training. And not just flight training, there was marksmanship, ground maneuvers, orienteering, wilderness survival. The whole suite of paramilitary scouting and camping.

Though we did have downtime. Cadets were not, officially, full time trainees.

It was nice that Clementia was proud of me.

I would see about getting her, and the other orphans, some tickets to the ballet. It would be humiliating for them to see me, but it would show them what I had achieved, and would be a way to help culturally enrich them.

It was only proper to return the effort she put into me. The nuns in my second life were not deficient nor negligent; they were merely lacking in material resources. It was not their fault that they did not have time to deal with me on a personal level.

Purring a bit, I made some notes about my response in the margins. The back of this letter was the one I had sent to Sister Clementia. Being a practical and frugal woman, she would write her reply on the back page of the letter I sent her.

The second piece of correspondence was from Duchess SilverFlight. She took the opposite approach with her own wax seal, custom purple envelope and watermarked pages.

She was also effusive. Which made me suspicious. Yes, the Duchess would be proud her investment in me was making dividends. Yes, she should be proud of seeing me excel in many of the ways important to her.

Yes, I was prime example validating her policy of patronizing orphanages to look for talented girls.

But there had to be something more to this letter.

I read on and smirked.

There it was, one of her friends was opening a new business and the Duchess was wondering if she could purchase some assistance in the marketing. Well, that was something I had some experience with.

My first life was more spent in Human Resources, but I knew how to sell a proposal. And some extra money would be good to funnel back to the orphanage.

++++++

House Andromache was to the North of Eastern Province. As they were an ally the border was relatively open and had considerable rail and road links.

It was not just connecting to Andromache, but to locations beyond. House RedStorm was to Andromache's North. First Citizen RedStorm was one of Imperatrix BlackSky's Daughters. And if things went right, the Troupe would be visiting there to show off our skills.

Such relations were not uncommon among the Diyu Houses. BlackSky and Elena were sisters. Grand Admiral Trosier was Dictatrix Ziox's mother and Eminence Andromache's aunt.

It all came back to the history of our species. A race created to serve, in war and in other capacities. And in rebellion we overthrew our masters and fled to this world. It was a nice creation myth. As a bonus it seemed true enough. All of the eponymous leaders of the Great Houses traced lineage to that revolt.

Which was not too surprising. Our kind had many means of adoption, both as a civil matter and as one of blood. Still, that pride in our homeland and desire to never be enslaved again contributed to our aggressive and fractious nature. There were also all the realpolitik reasons for Houses to go to war.

Being once again cast into a world with imperialistic and related heads of state was not exactly reassuring.

This did mean that House BlackSky not only had strong allies that divided the continent of Diyu into western and Easter halves, but that House Elena's land borders were all with BlackSky and BlackSkyvian allies.

No wonder House BlackSky was seen as a belligerent by many powers.

Mitigating this was that House Andromache was also allied with Elena, and Elena was on good terms with RedStorm.

What this meant was the BlackSky-Andromache border was a busy place with a lot of trade crossing.

Though parts of the border region were quieter. To the western end of the border were the final sputtering foothills that were once the Romwell Alps. Thinly populated, a good part of the airspace there was set aside for training.

As it was on the border, and House Andromache was rather small, they also used it.

Which ended up with BlackSkyvian Cadets training against Andromachin Cadets.

It was a form of opposing force training. Despite our alliance and transfer of technical and arcane methods, Andromache had a different few of air power. It was not as divergent as some of our other rival powers, but it was something.

These events also had true dissimilar training on occasion. Using House Andromache and House BlackSky's small number of attack craft built to mimic such roles. They were mostly surplus obsolescent craft purchased by Andromache from Elena or Luxon and given performance upgrades.

The central concept of Ritual Plate was somewhat like Aerial Mages in my last life. Each power had their own spin on the doctrine and differences in equipment, lift systems, and computation jewels, but there were also similarities.

House Andromache used what was frankly a disturbingly invasive form of bonding their spirits and enchantments to a given Pilot.

"Today, we will be training one on one recon patrol versus an airspace defense patrol." Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus said as she flew a bit above our cadet formation. Her Harmonia suit went from gleaming to muted colors that roughly matched the sky as she switched on her camouflage system.

We also matched the motion and our colors turned to a more muted two-tone that from below looked like sky and from above matched the ground. It was not perfect camouflage; it was not even instant reacting, but it was adaptive. That said, those Pilots who could Veil their presence, even at low power output, were also very valuable.

Flying a bit apart from her but at the same level was Senior Lojtnant Annelise Sorensa of House Andromache. She.... was not wearing flight armor. She had a chest piece and a helmet but those were more as backups in case her warding shield failed.

She was flying as the same speed as the rest of us and using Zephyr for propulsion. Functionally she was a Ritual Plate pilot, but without the plate.

She was intimidating to me in a way that few other powerful demons were.

Fundamentally, Andromache going this route came down to them being the smallest Great House. House Andromache had one-eighth the population of House BlackSky. And they were centrally located with many powers bordering them.

However, the majority of House Andromache's territory was on the Moon of Lantia. The smaller of the two moons, it still represents considerable, if distant and limited, holding.

Keeping trade and lines of communication between Andromache's lunar and Diyu territories was vital. They had a small air fleet, mostly BlackSkyvian surplus, equipped with teleportation runes, and an impressive merchant fleet, especially for a small landlocked power.

"You should all be getting the boundaries for today's exorcise on your map display." Senior Lojtnant Sorensa said. She spoke Silvan Latin with a melodious accent.

"Please keep out of the restricted zones, we do not want to have to explain to RedStorm flight control let alone Luxon why one of our cadets drifted off."

All her students and most of ours laughed at that.

Though an errant BlackSkyvian cadet driving into Luxon Airspace would be met very differently than a mistaken Andromachin Cadet.

Andromache made extensive use of teleport gateways: monstrously expensive paired devices that enabled point to point teleportation. They had none of the uncertainty that was a key limitation to teleportation runes, but could only teleport between those two specific gates.

It was a property of their construction. A pair would be built as a set by he same artificers and Ritualista at the same time, from the same components, of the same design, everything to enhance their thaumaturgical link.

After construction, the gateways could even be placed onboard an airship that could use its own teleportation runes to deliver a gateway to, say a colony world or moon, but that required careful work to ensure it stayed entangled with its matching gateway. Another limitation was that only goods that could fit inside the "transport chamber" within the gateway could be moved.

Eve with those limitations, Gateways had massive logistical implications. Due to their expense, they were more of a strategic asset, but were very useful for keeping lines of communication and supply open between critical facilities.

Gateways were still supplemental to various air, sea, and land resupply methods. All of which were less expensive, tended to allow for larger and more oversize cargos, and had greater flexibility.

For a small House with little focus on power projection and few far flung bases, House Andromache had a disproportionate number of gateways. But they were almost all set to keep rapid contact with Lantia.

"Cadets, you will take the defender role. You will go to point Echo, turn down your scrying systems, including your Gorgon Rig Optio VioletBlood, and wait until the set time." Centurion Quirinus told us.

I pouted. I had been planning to accidentally leave my Gorgon Rig on so we could get a leg up on tracking the Andromachin cadets. The Gorgon Rig was an augment to Ritual Plate that increased the range and detail of our sensor input.

It was something like a miniature Occultia. Less capable in recon, but less expensive. It was still a pricey enough piece of kit, and one that required a fair bit of concentration, or talent for a Pilot to use. Thus it was not standard. Typically, a Flight would have one member equipped with a Gorgon Rig.

Since they augmented one's abilities and interwove with our horns, those who were the best with those sense organs made for the best reconnaissance Pilots.

Quirinus continued "Then you can disperse and perform a search pattern. Your primary goal is to detect the rival scouting force. If you can do that before they find their own target then good, if you don't' find them at all, then I will be cross."

Fortunately no one in our training Squadron fell out of formation at that last bit.

"I will leave it to you to pick a Squadron Leader for this exercise. Don't embarrass me, compared to training on Lantia, this should be a milk run for you"

Even without the Gateways, Lantia could acted a redoubt and, while it was technically self sufficient, Andromache depended on constant trade between the surface and the smaller moon. Lantia was not impregnable, it had been invaded before, and House BlackSky had committed a major effort to help liberate it in the past.

Thus, the smallest Great House, Andromache had two main prongs to maintain their independence. The second of these prongs was why their Ritual Plate was... not exactly plate armor.

The first prong was to cultivate good relations with the three largest Great Houses.

"Cadet Korporals, you are to go to Point Whiskey, similarly you will also shut down your own scrying and sensor systems for the prescribed blackout period. " Senior Lojtnant Sorensa stated. Her body thrummed with power and she wore a fur-trimmed bodysuit under her vest armor that reminded me a bit of a more form fitting version of the flight suits I used to wear as an Aerial Mage.

I sipped some water from the tube that snaked up near my mouth. Hydration was vital; even as an Aerial Mage we would carry canteens. As an incompressible fluid a given water supply would take up the same volume on a Ritual Plate suit. But it was one of the many support systems.

There was even another tube that could supply what could, generously, be called broth. Reconstituted and heated from a stock of compressed cubes, the broth was nutritious and energy dense, everything a young demoness needed. And was not exactly inedible. Some of the cadets swapped out the enriched broth stock cubes with ones that would make tea or hot chocolate instead. A regulation violation I could almost sympathize with.

"Afterwards you will be given a randomized list of targets. Both ones of approximate locations and descriptions of various landmarks. Your priority is to get the required targeting information from your set locations. That is the minimum task. If you do not want to make others question our place as a Great House you will avoid detection by our esteemed allies."

For all the talk, House Andromache was very close to BlackSky. They are one of our closest allies and even allow us to maintain a major fleet base on Lantia, host of Primus 3rd Fleet, Emurian Eighth Landing Fleet, and Corpus Incursio Vigilance.

However, I could still see a lesser power being prickly over having to depend on a greater power.

Not that Andromache had nothing to offer. The Lantia Primus Anchorage gave House BlackSky a global capability to place, teleport rune equipped, fleet elements anywhere we wanted. BlackSky in turn sold them our older hulls, traded with Ritual Plate technology and our protection.

For the other two largest powers on Diyu: House Elena and House Luxon, Andromache courted their support via facilitating trade. Both Lacus Superum and the Great Bazala Lake and their navigable rivers represented major interior trade lanes.

However Lacus Superum drained to the North, while Great Bazala drained to the South. Being one of the few Houses that bordered both great lakes, House Andromache allowed the construction of a canal facilitating transit between them.

Where before goods traveling between House Elena and House Luxon had to use expensive gateways, travel overland across rival houses, or circumnavigate the Diyu landmass, now there was a direct path.
By having patronage of the larger powers, Andromache hoped to have a bulwark against aggression from the medium powers. And by helping with logistics, trade, and critical basing they leveraged their position on the world stage quite well.

The other prong of the Andromachin independence was maximizing the power and flexibility of their forces. Without having to worry about power projection or long logistical trains they had more options.
This prong was why Sorensa did not need a Ritual Plate, but her Cadet Squadron were wearing Polydora Mark 4 suits nearly identical to our own.

They were enthusiastic in their reply to their instructor's order. Which made sense. We were both cadet squadrons. Which meant that we would have far more experience than most new Pilots.

And while House BlackSky had the greater number of Ritual Plate pilots, House Andromache liked to think their equivalent air units were to a higher standard.

"Any questions? No. Good. Okay both squadrons to your rally points. You will be informed when the blackout period starts," Centurion Quirinus ordered.

We gave our agreement and saluted before banking off and splitting up.

Their plan was to maintain enough mobile defenses and direct attackers to bleed anyone who tired to take their main territory while funneling in reinforcements from Lantia. And waiting for support from their larger allies.

Their enemies, specifically House Ziox, would plan to overwhelm Andromache and hold the canal and presume Elena and Luxon would consider it fait accompli. Especially if they kept the canal open for Elena and Luxon to use.

I would also presume that Ziox would also offer to cease their encroachment onto House Luxon's northeast frontier. Even ceding some territory in that area would be a net win to secure the bridge between the lakes. Not to mention Ziox was a mostly mountainous House and would greatly desire the fertile lands of the Andromachin heartland.

House Ziox would depend on such an act of aggression being quick, and to grab territory before the complicated web of alliances of the other Houses would be pulled against them.

It was likely that these girls would be going under the knife to become full Andromachin Pilots, and in a few short years would be readying for the inevitable invasion from House Ziox. Under their Polydora suits I knew they already had many of the precise tattoos that marked the first stage of their work.

When I saw the interlocking treaties, alliances, and trade deals binding the nine Diyu Great Houses I nearly cried. It was a diplomatic powder keg that once lit would split various powers into blocks in unpredictable ways.

It was something I had seen in both of my lives, and... had happened here as well..

Hence why Andromache was quite willing to get whatever stronger allies they could.

And why their version of Ritual Plate was... different.

Ritual Plate had an inherent inefficiency.

The various magical systems and spirits were anchored to the very plates of the Ritual Plate. Meanwhile the Pilot had to have a bond with the spirits and synchronize with the enchantments.

There would always be a slight reaction delay, the tiniest of air gap.

Andromachin Arcansits eliminated the gap. Many of their enchantments were tattooed on, but the key ones, the most powerful ones, were engraved and inlaid into their bones.

It was an extremely invasive procedure, and one that if not done properly would be excruciating. The results were breathtaking, an Andromachin Pilot had quicker reaction times, more efficient power usage, and greater synchronization.

The process was not without cost. It was more expensive, required a higher level of skill in the Arcansits and Surgeons doing the procedures. It was also less flexible, as system upgrades and modularity was far harder.

Maintenance was also... complicated. While the psychical structure of the tattoos, bone engravings, and inlays did not change. Well not appreciably, the magical enchantments laid into them did need refreshing and adjusting. Also the various spirits bonded into the Pilots enchantments and powers systems for weapons propulsion and such also needed upkeep.

To use a metaphor form my first life, the hardware did not change, but the software needed continual support.

A further complication was that they only did the procedure on volunteers who they already knew would be skilled Pilots. This was why Andromache still used ritual Plate, mostly for training. But also for evaluating hardware and special missions.

Still, I would admit that for a small House that wanted to maximize the individual power of their small air troops. It was a way to accomplish it.

Andromache was a small power and one that was determined to do what it took to keep from being taken over. If they needed to make allies with the 3 biggest Diyu Houses, if they needed to submit to enchanting their very bones, they would do it.

That was why Senior Lojtnant Annelise Sorensa disturbed me. She had been willing to sacrifice her body for her House. And why I was thankful that I was BlackSkyvian.


End Chapter 2

AN Cut this chapter a bit short. I had originally planned this and ch3 to be one chapter (including the ending POV shift) but it was running a bit long.

So a bit more setup, world building, and Tanya's cadet days. Chapter 3, A Night at the Opera, will have the payoff. Or ch4 to be more honest.

There is also some art of Tauria in Ritual Plate in the works and some already made.
That can be found on my deviant art page, and more talk of the lore and background of this verse can be found on the Spacebattles forum thread for this fic.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Okay, I was going to put up a map of the 9 Diyu Great Houses.

But it's the new year and you guys have been great and Map is already posted elsewhere.

So here's a preview of some new art.

A few things

1) it's a draft and not colored or shaded.
2) it's cropped as the piece, when done will have all 7 main Ritual Plate variants.
3) that's a Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role Tanya is wearing.

Which means this is set in her future when she's older, has a more advanced RP, and is in command of her own unit.
So minor spoiler.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 3: A Night at The Opera

Staring into the mirror, I wondered if noble patronage was really worth it.

I was already in the Legions. Okay, I was a young cadet but how much damage could upsetting the duchess really do?

I adjusted the ruffled shawl so it better draped over my shoulders.

Well, I was only a Cadet at my age due to the duchess' letter of recommendation. And the duchess moved in the same social circles as the Legate who commanded the base and the Legate who commanded all the base's Legionary Ritual Plate. A word from Duchess SilverFlight and that exemption would be withdrawn.

The lavender bonnet was the worst part, at least it kept me from needing my hair to be styled.

The rest of the outfit was a maid uniform. High-collared, it was frilly and flounced and had a ruffled, almost tutu-like overskirt. Over that was a heart-shaped purple apron and below that was the long skirt itself.

My beribboned and bedecked tail limp, I glanced out a window. "It's starting to snow."

We were in the Great Eastern Hotel just outside Victory Plaza in Bovitar. Of course, the duchess had a suite of rooms near the top.

"And that's why you have a nice thick skirt and cute boots," Duchess SilverFlight gushed as one of her servants took pictures with a brass-bodied camera that used an almost iridescent flash.

There was an odd tingling to my horns as the camera also recorded my emotional state. All the more reason for me to keep up a proper front. The boots were of good quality and would be warm, and were not... impractical in heel.

Though they were, like the rest of this getup, a cute pastel color with shiny golden accents.

"And the gloves?" I picked at the thin purple satin gloves. They were nearly opera length and had ruffled hems. "These won't keep me warm at all."

One of the duchess's handmaidens paused in adjusting a golden coil to hand the duchess a pair of white and gold wool knit mittens. Which were then given over to me.

I gave her a flat look.

"How can I hand out flyers then?"

"You'll manage," the duchess assured.

"What does this outfit even do with your friend's business? Is it even on brand?" I sighed. I should have asked more questions before I realized that dressing up would be part of this advertising plan.

"Oh, certainly! We had to exchange sex appeal for adorableness but I think that's a good balance! And will make the cafe really stand out."

Dread forming within me, I frowned. "I thought your friend was opening a maid service."

"It is!" The duchess smiled and handed me one of the flyers. "Luddy, went to a charming little place in Silvana. It sounded so adorable, and she wanted to replicate it here."

I stared at the purple flyer. "Maids in a cafe as waitresses." I slowly stated. Of all the things from Japan's culture to wind up here. Well, it could be a coincidence.

"Will there be any special food there?" I scanned to see if the flyer had a menu below the cutesy picture of a maid-waitress and the cafe's location. I blinked. The tea and some of the desserts sounded proper. Though there was also some heavy baked goods and some mincemeat pies in the BlackSkyvian tradition.

Okay, I might have to visit the capital, and see if there were any other places that had Japanese cuisine. It had been a long time. On the other hand, this cafe might.... not be a complete clumsy copy.

Then again the name of the place. "Heavenly Home?" I asked.

"Luddy is a bit of a soft-touch for that aesthetic," the duchess said. "Which is why I'm so happy you agreed to this."

My tail may have swished. Though it stilled when the servant, finished with the gold wire, tried to attach it to my bonnet. She had shaped it into a horizontal loop with a vertical standoff.

My white-feathered wings twitched as I glared at the reflection. Even now I still felt like the plaything of inscrutable beings.

I may have hit the handmaiden with my tail.

Disapproval came from the duchess. "Ophelia a moment?" she asked as the servant bowed her head and slipped away.

The taller cobalt-blue haired woman loomed over me. A mixture of regret and irritation bit a tiny bit of amusement flitted through her.

"Maybe you were too young to get into the Cadet program."

I was honestly and sincerely confused. Fear also crept up in me.

"Tauria, I know Sister Clementia taught you about the way of things. I also know young soldiers have... crude habits."

"Your Grace?"

Her tone was very patient. "Your tail, Dear."

"There was no danger of cutting anyone. My filaments were in!" Our tails could be used as effective, if bloody, weapons.

The duchess shook her head. "It's not that."

My eyes widened. As a people, we had taboos on casual contact between strangers. With our empathy it could be far too... intimate. And using my tail to touch people...

"Quite so." Duchess SilverFlight idly adjusted the golden halo. "All that tail-slapping is rather crude locker-room bravado. Honestly, not something I expected from you, my fledgling Though you are starting to become a woman."

I stared. Oh. Right. We were a single gender species. But one demoness could impregnate another demoness. And what I was doing to one of the maids....

I suppose one upside of this dumb bonnet was that I could hide my face. It took a lot for me to get flushed in this life, but my cheeks were burning crimson. At least my blood was still red. Not all of us had the same color blood. Which made me wonder how complicated the job of medics was for the Legions.

I had been trying to keep my emotions in check, or at least keep people from seeing what I was really like.

And I threw that all out the window by letting my frustration show. Oh no, I had done that to the little Baroness VioletBlood. No wonder she was teasing me about my noble patronage. She must have thought I was some crude gutter-orphan.

I sagged a bit. I could fix this.

The duchess pulled me into a hug, her much larger wings folded over mine. "It's okay, no harm done. We all make mistakes."

I leaned onto the bodice of her gown and gave a long exhale.

"Tauria, you don't have to do this. I can understand, this is not exactly what you wear on stage," she assured me before letting me out of the hug.

I frowned. That was true. In most performances I had on more sparkly sequins and acres of fluffy skirting to trail about. It was all reinforced with starched fabric and wire to keep it from being a tripping hazard.

"You already got me this uniform." I would not say maid outfit. "I would not want to insult your friend."

"Luddy will get over it," the duchess waved off.

Obviously, this was a ploy. And as embarrassing as this was, was getting more nobles to look upon me favorably was worth lowering myself like this? Also this woman did know more about cafes and the like in the capital that had Japanese food.

Though perhaps I should try to get some samples of the wares in Heavenly Home first. But it would be hard to show my face in that cafe if I rejected a deal after I had put on the employer-supplied uniform.

And I was being paid well for this.

"I suppose I could stop in at Heavenly Home while doing this, to make sure I don't get thirsty."

"Of course," the duchess cheered. "It's not far from here and I'm sure the other maids would find you just delicious. And you can pick up more handbills and go back to the Plaza."

I tried to nod. If there was one place wearing this thing would not be an embarrassment. "Wait? I'm going to be giving these out in Victory Plaza?"
"But of course, it's the busiest part of Bovitar; with the hotel, marketplace, grand train station, riverboat dock, and one of the main bridges over the Lethe river."

"Yes, from an advertising perspective it is one of the better spots to do a low-investment mass marketing campaign." My tone was flat.

"Especially with an eye-catching and shrewd spokeswoman," the duchess gushed.

I sighed. It was still better than frontline service.

++++++

About four hundred miles northeast of Bovitar, Myr was the capital of House Andromache. Supposedly, it was an elegant cosmopolitan city on the north shore of Lake Esrum. That lake was halfway up the river Vort that drained into the Great Bazala Lake.

Upstream, the Vort connected to the canal and locks that linked to the Tybal River, which drained into Lacus Superum. Thus in addition to being a center of industry and culture by itself, Myr was set on a major north-south land trade route and the major east-west aquatic trade route.

Yes, House BlackSky had its own canal that allowed transit from Lacus Superum to the Gaudia Sea to the South, but hardly anyone from House Elena or House Luxon wanted to use that. Especially for any sensitive cargos that might be embargoed.

For having about as much territory on the Diyu continent as House BlackSky's Eastern Province, Andromache was well-positioned on a trade nexus. A central position was excellent for trade, but it was a threat in terms of security, especially when all your neighbors were larger.

Still, House Andromache held their own. And while Myr was purportedly a beautiful city it was covered with defensive positions: nothing too large or fixed though. Even with strong wards, shielding, armor and being buried a fixed target could be bypassed or saturated.

Thus Andromache's focus on mobile assets like their empowered fliers, Torpedo bombers, various quick missile platforms, and their own small, but potent air fleet. Despite their small airspace, they also had the advantage of having several larger allies they could pull back into if worse came to worse.

Andromache's fixed mounts were missile silos that would be emptied, buried evocation mounts that were relatively-cheap one shot fire and forget, and concealed and scattered maintenance and resupply points for their pilots and bombers. One advantage of the Andromache system of "internal" Ritual Plate was their logistics train required fewer parts stores. And their pilots could be readied quicker.

That meant a metropolis could be made into a hell for urban combat, while still preserving a charming aesthetic.

If Dictatrix Ziox wanted to take Myr then Eminence Andromache would have a warm reception for her cousin's forces.

Or at least that was what I was told. So far, I had not seen much of the city. The Troupe had gotten a chance to go on a very small tour and we had been cooped up doing rehearsals.

When I did get to see the city, it was at night. And while my night vision was excellent, the mortar launchers on my gauntlets were throwing out munitions with an exceptionally bright bursting charge. They were pretty accurate as you did not want to accidentally hit something with a firework launcher.

Scrying systems and instruments kept me from getting disoriented, but it did keep me from enjoying the view. Gorgon rigs were helpful for precision over flights.

"Confirm altitude," VioletBlood said as she flew a bit behind and below me to my left. "Launching. Complete," she repeated as he fired off four more shots, emptying the magazines to her mortars.

A bit behind us was the rest of the squadron in similar near vertical climbs.

"Copy, Break and fire trails in three, two, one. Break, break," I replied as my wings pulled back and we both accelerated up. Then the two of us snapped in opposite directions and lit the chaff dispenses on the small of our backs.

Thousands of motes that sparkled and flickered started to pour out and fell into the wind stream of our Zephyr. This was coordinated with the fireworks the squadron had launched moments before and with the rest of the Troupe lighting their own multi-colored contrails.

I was told that from the ground it looked a bit like a silver and green peacock spreading his tail while ruby blossoms exploded overhead.

It showed the level of trust that House Andromache let another House operate Ritual Plate in their capital. Yes, our suits were unarmed, other than glorified fireworks, but it was still quite the courtesy.

That did not mean that Andromache did not keep a couple Squadrons in the air close enough to watch us, but far enough to not interfere with the display. Not to mention having another wing on ready alert.

After completing that stage of the maneuver, I reunited with VioletBlood and we started rotating around. Her purple sparkling contrail and my gold contrail spiraling around each other.

The other pilots wove above us forming an intricate backdrop to our maneuvers. I suppose it would have been pretty with all the fireworks they were setting off and the glittering contrails they had, but I was focusing on my own part in this ostentatious display.

"Mind your turns," she transmitted. I could feel her clenched teeth as she flipped into a dive as she rolled around her wings only a few feet from mind.

"I'm fine it's you who's drifting!" She might have had an edge in level speed, but I was more maneuverable and had more combat skill, not that that mattered in these ballet shows.

We leveled out. The greenery of a shoreside park raced below us. There were plenty of spectators who had gotten out to enjoy the new spring. And get covered in glitter. Well that was not fair, the contrail material was impregnated with enough illusionary magic to make it sparkle and flash so very little was actually required. Which was a weight savings, as the pyrotechnics we carried had been heavy enough.

"Whatever, as long as we don't end up in the lake," she snippily said as we snapped up and with a loop came down onto the stage in the center of the park.

Our wings flared as the last of the sparkles illuminated our whole suits and the two of us landed on our heels before falling into perfect splits. As we raised our arms the rest of the squadron landed around us in a semicircle.

I exhaled as the crowd cheered. Precision flying was an art, but I could do without all the pageantry.

++++++

After that display, we had been given a day to relax and explore Myr. I mostly checked out a bookstore and a place for lunch with IvyBlade. It was a noodle shop that overlooked the dockyards and while the lettering was in a different language, and the smell was not Japanese, it was still a breath of fresh air.

Yes, Heavenly Home was not bad for desserts and their tea was... adequate, but it was not exactly a place to get a meal.

The older pilot shook her head as I watched the ships. "Your first time out of the House and you watch boats," she said, eating her red curry noodles.

"Hey! It's not like that." While it was nice to see trade and free market economic principles were strong in this world. That the Houses were not all locked into warfare and retrenchment; it was also peaceful to watch the various fishing and pleasure craft out enjoying the day. Yes it was a bit of a brisk spring, but with the sun out the slight bite to the air was easy to ignore.

"Oh, I forgot, it's your first time out of Eastern Province, too."

I glared at her and had more of my stir fry. The wide wheat noodles were different but it was a good meal.

"I didn't take you for liking this stuff. Though I suppose young broodlings are always hungry.'

"I'm not a broodling," I groused.

IvyBlade gave me an indulgent smile. I idly wondered how her hand would taste. It would just be a light feeding, and she'd grow it back in time.

Tilting her head, IvyBlade pulled back. "Still Paymonish food is surprising."

"The minor House west of Alecto and Trosier?" I spooned a bit more of the broth into my mouth.

"That's the one, kinda hard being a minor house on an island, even a big one between two naval powers who hate each other."

I shrugged. The Minor Houses had it pretty bad. With less population, industry, and military than even Andromache, the lesser powers existed even more at the whims of the Great Houses.

"I heard good things about it, and the smell is really good."

"That it is," IvyBlade agreed. "I was just wondering if it came from your side job."

"Eh?"

"Well, LoveBl-"

I glared at the older pilot. I hated that nickname more than she did. Partially because the baroness got it from when we were sparring, and I accidentally cut my knuckles on a board and some splattered on her lips. We gave up trying to explain it was an accident, that just made it worse.

"Well, VioletBlood was talking about your job."

My tail flicked as I controlled my emotions. "Oh."

"Yes, her jealousy was very transparent."

I stared. "She's jealous."

"Among other things, there's that whole rivalry and flirting thing with you."

"I'm not flirting!" I cried.

"I'm sorry, it's okay," IvyBlade reached her hand out to mine slightly.

I pulled back a bit. Casual contact made hiding your emotions much harder.

She frowned but used her hand to resume eating. It was not like I disallowed contact. IvyBlade was one of the girls in the Troupe who helped me preen my wings. Stupid feathers. They took far more effort to groom than the bat-style wings most everyone else had.

"But for jealousy, you are working for a Duchess and her business magnate friend and able to go to a trendy new cafe are you not? Do you really have an employee discount?"

"Uh yes.... and the other, um the waitresses do fawn over me." I couldn't say "other maids", though if I wore the flier uniform I had fifty-fifty odds of eating there totally on the house. "But... the outfits."

"What about them? Tell me you get to keep them, they're so cute."

I managed not to bite through my chopsticks.

I exhaled while IvyBlade ate, watching me with a perplexed look.

"Yes, I can keep them, but it's so girly." I ate trying to control my embarrassment.

"Huh," she accepted that excuse and went to her meal. "I didn't take you for a tomboy."

"It's not that. I just don't like fripperies and frivolities."

"You're better at ballet than I am."

"I just had some enthusiastic teachers," I demurred. "All things being equal, I'd rather spend more time in the wargaming club."

"But here you are," she teased.

"Exactly, here I am." I gestured out to encompass the city of Myr. "I don't see the wargaming club going on a trip to two different house capitals."

"Clever," IvyBlade nodded as she finished her bowl and started munching on a dumpling.

I gave a smug nod. As an excuse, it was serviceable.

"But you do know the wargamers are going to a competition hosted by the War College in our capital in two days?"

I groaned.

She glanced at her slim silver pocket watch. "Anyway we should get going if we don't want to miss our train."

++++++

House RedStorm was the second smallest Diyu Great House. However at over twice the size of Andromache, and with a far better border situation, they were more secure than their diminutive neighbor on their southern border.

About a third the size of their parent house, House RedStorm was closely allied with House BlackSky. Their First Citizen was the daughter of our Imperatrix.

The northern-flowing Resh River was the outlet to Lacus Superum. It also served as the border between House Elena and House RedStorm. From there, their northern border was the ocean shoreline, and their eastern border was with House Irkella.

RedStorm acted as a bit of a buffer as Irkella was one of the few Great Houses on poor terms with House Elena, other than House BlackSky. Even House RedStorm traded with their giant neighbor to the west.

To the south was House Andromache and a small border with Ziox to the South-east. Another river, the Golva, went through the eastern part of House RedStorm in a large curve.

Its headwaters were in House Irkella, and it flowed out into the small pinky finger of Andromachin territory that was a land border with Ziox, near the far northern shore of the Great Bazala Lake.

This meant that despite not having any territory on the shore of the Great Bazala Lake, House RedStorm had riverine access to it. And it was their main trade route with House Luxon, who had by far the most control of the shorelines of that body of water.

"Thinking about your special day? IvyBlade asked from her seat next to me as I watched the landscape fly past us.

I shrugged.

Our train was taking us northeast out of Andromache's capital of Myr about a hundred miles north to the RedStorm trade city of Narvos. With their own military faculties, Narvos was a trade nexus on the Golva River and sat over borders with the other Houses.
The train car was rather nice. While we did not have a private cabin, our seats were arranged so four people could converse. In truth, that part I was not too fond of, but it beat going around in a cattle car that was converted to troop transport by removing some of the nicer amenities.

IvyBlade sat next to me while Baroness VioletBlood was across from me. Another girl in the Troupe, about IvyBlade's age, sat across from her.

Centurion Victa SilverSpring had flowing pale blue hair and pale skin that looked almost chalk-white, her eyes were a deep blue. Not that they were visible as she was dozing. I almost smiled, as her light snore reminded me a bit of Visha.

Fortunately for VioletBlood, she did not thrash around as much as my former aide, partner, and wingwoman.

VioletBlood was reading a comic of all things. Though the baroness was trying to do it with a haughty air worthy of her station. I supposed it helped that the comic was thick and hard-covered. It reminded me of the digests I would sometimes see in my first life.

The art style was also rather familiar.

"Narvos is going to be fun; sure a lot of folks say it's some eastern provincial border trade city, but it does have a lot of culture, and an amazing opera house," IvyBlade said as she cleaned her nails.

I wondered how she got that much blood under them, she was normally a neater eater than that.

"Is it bigger than Bovitar?" I asked not rising to the bait. IvyBlade was from the capital of House BlackSky and found the city I had grown up in to be a bit quaint.

"A bit smaller. Narvos is also closer to Voluptaium so it doesn't quite need to stand on its own two hooves."

I nodded. It also acted as a bit of a buffer between the border region and the capital of Voluptaium, along with the far western spur of a mountain line that dominated eastern Diyu, including southern Irkella, the bulk of Ziox and central Luxon.

Narvos was near the area where the triple point between the borders of RedStorm, Andromache, and Ziox.

Thus to get to the heartland of RedStorm, Ziox would have to get past Narvos and cross the Golva. Or take over Andromache and then have a campaign to go to RedStorm from the South.

For mutual defense, Andromache was quite happy to ally with RedStorm. As the two smallest Great Houses there was a bit less of a satrapy-patron relationship.

"And House RedStorm has a proper Legionary Ballet Troupe," VioletBlood said as she turned a page. "Which is nice, I mean we have, what four?"

"Are you counting the one on our base at Mursam?"

The baroness pinched her lips. "I'm not sure; Mursam is a colony," her tone gave a bit of distaste though her tail was happy and her emotions seemed to indicate she was joking. "But we should encourage them to be cultured."

Ivy shook her head. Mursam had more fleet assets than Bovitar. Which was right, as Mursam was our most important off-world colony. Fully a quarter of the Imperial Legionary and Household Fleet strength was there: Corpus Incursio Tenacity and several supporting Legions, the Emurian Fifth Landing Fleet and the Colonial Magnus Fourth Fleet.

"We should also encourage them to be industrious, and build up more trade," I interjected.

VioletBlood crinkled her nose and closed her DarkStar manga book. "Mursam has enough industrial capacity to almost be a Great House on its own. Well other than being offworld," she sniffed and looked out the window to watch the fields passing around us.

"I don't dispute that, being well-placed to link with our world, and most of our other colonies makes them well positioned for acquiring and processing resources. It's sensible to put a large amount of forces there to both secure that world, the faculties on that world, and act as a springboard for our other colonies."

"Then what do you dispute, Diamond?" she sweetly asked.

"That the House should do more to grow and expand on Mursam. This continent of Diyu is more than fully claimed, as are the neighboring islands and landmasses."

"Many of those are Minor Houses," VioletBlood pointed out.

"Lesser or no, they are a hassle. Look at Luxon's occupation of the northern part of House Vualia, or how Irkella is still struggling to keep up their beachheads into House Rosier."

"I would say it's for the best that our rivals or our ally's rivals are spending blood and coins on silly conquests," IvyBlade stated.

I looked out to see that the rail bed was steadily rising higher from the fields.

"It's not the only way to handle Minor Houses. House Alecto has been quite happy trading with them, selling arms and protection, and bargaining for extraterritorial holdings," VioletBlood replied. "It's a way to have control without rebellion."

"Of course, both our nobles would argue for merchant approaches," IvyBlade laughed. "LoveBlood is just a bit more cynical about it."

Both VioletBlood and I glared at the older pilot.

"Oh, come on!" IvyBlade said she then turned to the window and watched as we approached the abutment and the bridge over the river.

VioletBlood sniffed. "Diamond, your birthday is coming up soon, correct?"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"In three days."

I tilted my head and watched the cable stays of the bridge flash past us.

"We will be in Voluptaium then, we absolutely shall have to do something."

"What's your angle?"

"I remember when I turned twelve, it was a special day."

"She wants an excuse for the Troupe to go out and have a party in their capital," Iry dryly said.

I snorted. "I mean, as the birthday girl I won't be paying so, I don't mind."

VioletBlood gave a sharp smile.

"It's not a bad scheme," I shrugged, turning to watch the barges and other vessels going up and down the broad river.

There were even some customs cutters and other military craft. Which was not surprising. The Yew patrol boats that were BlackSkyvian in manufacture.

Unsurprisingly, House RedStorm used a similar Legionary and Fleet Structure as their parent House. However, with less emphasis on mobile aerial deployment their Legions had on average a greater amount of mechanized and armored components.

Similarly, their fleet was smaller and more centered on air defense, airspace control, and ground support. With less on long range air resupply and Legion Lift even proportionally, they had a far smaller number of troopships and armor transports as House BlackSky.

House Elena took this with some reassurance as that meant that the far smaller House RedStorm did not have the power projection capabilities to put ground troops deep into their territory.

House RedStorm had naval forces but was mostly to protect their northern coast and for their riverine and lake trade routes.

On the North side of the river the settlements were markedly denser and we could see Narvos ahead of us.

The buildings were a bit shorter than those of Bovitar and it had more of a blocky look.

I wondered how much of that was the RedStorm aesthetic and how much was that this was the major settlement by the border.

More towns, farms, and livestock pens shot past us. There were a few train stations too, but we were on an express track and went past them. Especially as more train tracks merged into this area, mostly from spurs to the south east but some from other areas.

VioletBlood caught my gaze. "Hungry for lunch?"

"I guess."

"Girls your age are always hungry," IvyBlade teased. "Always feeding."

I glared at her and flicked my tail.

"It's true, even in the barracks you're hungry even during nap time."

Now, I glared at VioletBlood.

"Which DarkStar adventures are you reading?" IvyBlade asked.

"Oh a fantasy, it's a bit light and fluffy." VioletBlood's tail swished as she tapped the cover.

"Don't tell me the one where she gets reincarnated into the present?"

I stilled. What, that was entertainment here? I mean I knew it was sort of a thing done in my first life, but manga-ka covered all sorts of topics.

The baroness gave a somewhat embarrassed look. "It's a fun story. You know how much our culture and language has changed from the Invasion era. She'd take some time to fit in."

"You really think if DarkStar came back she'd be socially awkward?" IvyBlade asked.

"If? She will come back," VioletBlood stated. "Tell her Diamond!"

"Eh?"

"You signed up right after the Feast of DarkStar, and you were raised by Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady, DarkStar is one of your saints. You believe she's coming back."

I looked around and pondered waking up SilverSpring. She did not take well to being deprived of her sleep, and that would provide a good distraction. "You're asking if I believe in reincarnation?"

IvyBlade rolled her eyes. "Even, I'm not denying that. Reincarnation has been documented enough times, I'm just not sure if DarkStar would be coming back now. Our Imperatrix has had a lot of time to mourn her."

I glanced around. This would not be a good time to mention that I had been reincarnated twice.

"Maybe it's not up to Imperatrix BlackSky," I offered, thinking of that archangel and his deals.

"Oh, you're one of those who thinks the Silver Millennium and Serenity the First have an influence?"
"Maybe?" I shrugged. I had not paid too much attention to that part of history, or theology. The Invasion was far in our past, when we had tried to take over Earth, or an Earth. It was murky and I was not sure when in Earth's history it was.

That there were magical empires did not clear things up. Nor did that Earth's Moon was inhabited by another Empire with designs on Earth add any clarity.

Again, none of that was exactly unprecedented. My previous life was fighting for an empire that was against the whole world and this current one was where House Andromache had a lunar colony.

Though it did help showcase just how old our Imperatrix was, and some of her Daughters. RedStorm dated to nearly that period, and Praetor DawnStrike, something like House BlackSky's Foreign Minister, knew DarkStar and was part of the Invasion.

Truly ancient demonesses were de facto strategic assets.

"I think it'd be cool to meet DarkStar, maybe even ask her for combat pointers. Just imagine the experiences she's had," VioletBlood gushed.

This was a more pure and joyous emotion I had felt from her, at least on the ground. So, I refrained from pointing out that DarkStar's last experience was being betrayed, beaten, then eaten alive by those of House Vephar.

It was still a sensitive subject, as BlackSky had wiped them all out.

IvyBlade was more open with her disbelief.

VioletBlood looked at both of us. "Okay, but still it would be neat to talk to someone from those days, who had seen the Invasion. Or other great moments of our ancient history."

"Right because pestering an elder killing machine who could peel us out of our RP like tin foil and have us for a snack would be so informative" IvyBlade stated as our train entered Narvos proper.

"Snack if we're lucky," I stated. Capture by an enemy, elder demoness could result in being turned. That was a general risk of capture, though most Houses have two-party agreements for prisoner treatment and exchange. .

Another reason to be thankful I'm in House BlackSky are their rules and legal systems to ensure the mental freedom of our citizens.

"And the enemy has their own elder demonesses," I pointed out. A part of our training was on how to deal with beings who were, on their own, strategic assets. Mostly it involved getting distance, harassing fire if needed, and lining up Telephe Squadrons for a coordinated Lance Strike, a Fujiwara bombardment, or vectoring in our own Daughter or equivalent unit.

"And we do spar against powerful individuals," VioletBlood smugly said, seemingly happy to have me on her side.

The baroness was not wrong. Volantes Legate Aucto was a stern woman who had enough age and experience that she did not really need a Ritual Plate suit to be a major combatant. She was one of those who could be called "elder demonesses", and we did training exercises against her. By we I mean the cadet squadron and other trainees or the entire Ballet Troupe.

IvyBlade shrugged as the train jostled as we went over more railway switches and slowed to go through a curve.

With snort, Victa SilverSpring woke up. Blearily, she pulled her pale blue hair back. "Oh, we're in Narvos?"

"Did you have a good nap?" IvyBlade asked.

"Would have been better if we had a sleeper cabin." Victa rolled her shoulders and stretched her wings and tail. Or at least as much as the confines of the seat and ceiling could allow. "Did I miss anything good?"

"We're going to have a birthday party for Lady Diamond in the next city," VioletBlood stated.

"Lady Diamond?" Victa turned to me as the train started to slow. "Oh, well you could have a worse nickname."

My reply was cut off when we stopped and a chipper conductor in a silly little hat and a bright green uniform with gold shoulder boards and enough braid to pass as the Supreme Fleet Marshal of Diyu told us that we had arrived in Narvos.

Gathering my bag, I shook my head and followed the others off the train. Fortunately most of our costumes, gear, and supplies were in the baggage car. Ritual Plate suits, even those that were officially disarmed, were sensitive hardware. Not to mention that fireworks or no, our cache of pyrotechnics were still explosives.

We stepped into the echoing, busy platform. There was high arched ironwork holding up a ceiling with expansive skylights. I frowned. It was not the most defensive design, but I supposed not everyone wanted to live in a fortress.

A group of people were waiting for us.

"Duchess SilverFlight," I said, bowing my horns to my patron in her bustled gown and cobalt-blue coiffure.

VioletBlood smirked but also gave a polite greeting.

To the duchess' left was the Senior Prefect Volantes Centurion in charge of the Ballet Troupe, Florentina DeltaVoid. With bright green eyes and curly emerald hair cut into a short Mohawk with shaved sides. She was a stern, exceptionally agile, pilot with an artistic flair, which fit her role in what was a mix of dance group and reinforced demonstrator squadron.

To her right was an unassuming woman with purple skin, hair in an auburn pageboy, and a pair of slim frameless glasses. That was odd, though from the slight glowing patterns on her lenses, my guess was she was using them as some sort of display.

That was hardly uncommon as a few Ritualista used similar glasses for diagnostics and I had seen some scribes and other functionaries wearing similar devices when I would go off base for a coffee and chocolate. Not to mention both Ritual Plate and VTOL pilots used illusion magic to create heads up displays as well.

The woman did look like some mid-level office-lady down to her black skirt, bodice, and jacket. Though the way she was idly manipulating her display showed, at least, some skill with minor spirits. She had tattoos on her cheekbones of streaking comets.

Also standing in the group were a couple border guards in their crimson uniforms. More of them were down the platform overseeing the unloading of our Ritual Plate caskets and the rest of our baggage.

The duchess exchanged greetings with three other pilots before looking at me. "Cadet Optio DiamondDust, it is good to see you." She gestured to the prim-looking woman. "This is Mira HeartWood of the Palace Library."

"Charmed," I bowed my horns. The Imperatrix was fond of literacy and knowledge. To the extent that within the massif that served as her palace was one of the largest libraries on Diyu. No wonder she bore such award marks on her cheeks.

Though that was only a small part of the whole BlackSkyvian library system, which had authority over most published works via enforcement of various intellectual property mechanisms and logging contracts so they could be legally enforced.

Mira, for her part, seemed to take a moment watching the air rustling around all of our wings with a slight smile. She adjusted her glasses and looked over at myself and VioletBlood before giving a nod to Senior Prefect DeltaVoid.

I felt a bit of apprehension from the Troupe leader but she gave a nod to the duchess in turn.

"Prefect Centurion, would you mind if I spoke with my... protege before practice for tonight's event?" the duchess asked DeltaVoid.

The Troupe leader nodded. "Of course, your grace."

VioletBlood swished her tail and huffed at me before going with IvyBlade and SilverSpring to help the rest of the ballet troupe unload our gear and move it to the opera house.

++++++


One of the duchess' purple and gold liveried servants ushered me into her suite of rooms. This particular hotel was down the block from the Narvos opera house, and was in the heart of their theater district.

There was a set of various dishes, many Paymonish noodle stir fries and some of the desserts from Heavenly Home.

I sat down and smoothed my black legionary uniform.

Sipping some savory broth, the duchess was already sitting by the table. "Tauria, have I said how proud I am of you?"

I smiled. The humiliation of the ballet club and the scheme that had gotten me into the cadet pilot program had paid off. "No, your Grace."

"Flattering liar, and no need to be so formal especially when it's just... just us." She frowned at the food. "Luddy's been on vacation, but her chef gave me some sweets to bring up north."

I bowed my head.

The duchess took out a jeweled tuning fork and stuck it against the table. The vibrations from it made my horns itch but I accepted the privacy field with some trepidation.

For a while we ate and had small talk: Zephyr, flight maneuvers, dance, enchanting, the current issue of the Journal on Air Combat.

After I had some dessert, the duchess stilled her tail. "What do you know about Imperial intelligence services?"

"You mean the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance?" I asked as my stomach clenched. Based on the rumors I had heard about the CSR, I wanted nothing to do with that batch of spooks.

The duchess picked up a sword and shrugged. It was in a scabbard covered in detailed runes. I knew it was an effective construct at channeling and storing power. "Something like that. Though this doesn't involve CSR."

I paused, so a deniable op or some other group? Long duration undercover operations on other Houses, even other worlds, was the start of CSR's shenanigans. I agreed with the necessity of their ethos, learning about the enemy, and found it reassuring that House BlackSky had an energetic military intelligence branch. Still, I found my tail hanging limp.

"What?" I frowned.

"It's an exchange."

"Duchess...."

She chuckled. "No, no, this is not freelance. I am doing this in my capacity as a Tribune and under orders."

I exhaled. "How much should I know?"

A tiny frown crossed the duchess's face but she gave an approving nod. "It's an exchange. A courier is giving us a package. I would like you and your wingwoman to be doing overhead patrol as you two have an excuse to be in the air tonight. I'll make sure you have command of the little pair if that helps."

"We're not exactly armed. And we're close to the border zone, won't RedStorm be active?"

The duchess smiled. "For the former I'll be traveling to the location by boat; a boat that's large enough to hypothetically have a Flight in support. As to the latter, my associates can do only so much to get RedStorm air defense to look the other way."

I kept from groaning. "Are you sure you want someone like myself or Baroness VioletBlood? I can understand why someone from the Troupe is a reasonable way to get persistent overwatch, especially if local authorities need a polite fiction to keep us up in the air."

The duchess gave me a smile.

I tapped my chin. "But this means Primus Centurion DeltaVoid knows of this, but why myself and VioletBlood? Why not two more experienced members of the troupe?"

"I know it's not what you wanted, and you don't have to take it," the duchess assured.

I nodded, relief blooming in me. "I don't mind, there are so many better pilots."

"You're too humble." Her tone had a tiny edge. "Dear, I know you're chomping at the bit, that you want to do more than training."

"I mean..." I held in my emotions. If I could spend the remaining 19 years of my term in training billets that would be perfect.

The duchess shook her head. "It's just a milk run, observing and doing passive recon, but it is important." She took my hand. "I promise. You don't have to take this role, but don't feel insulted by how simple it is, I'm offering because I trust you."

I exhaled and kept my tail from swishing. I did not want to look too overeager. Also it was a bit disquieting how much bloodlust my... mentor had, to where she expected her protege to be disappointed with a simple task.

I could see why she wanted me, and VioletBlood I suppose. I could be honored by that. I took up my own cup and pondered if there was a way to gracefully exit out of the obligation and if this gambit failed would give me a backup.

Ah, not only was I the youngest in the Troupe, but I was also the smallest.

"If things go for the worst. I presume getting the package out is of supreme importance?"

The duchess nodded.

"Then having the unarmed fliers, fliers cleared to operate in Narvos airspace could get it out, while the, hypothetical, Flight of yours does anything on the sharp end."

The duchess chuckled. "I know how hard it is for you to stand back, even in a hypothetical battle."

"How big is it?" I held up a hand. "No, I don't want to know what it is, beyond any need to know. Such as, its size and weight." Hopefully it would be too heavy for me to fly it out and thus an older girl in the ballet troupe would have to take the role.

The duchess sipped her tea and I felt a wave of approval from her. "The art piece that I'm officially buying is a garish little statue about knee-high, but the actual package? It's not large, no bigger than the case of say... an average data folio or a deck of cards."

"Ah." I picked up a sweet. "Well, what about you, well you have an RP suit?"

She smiled. "I'll have my Zephyr, so I'll have speed and I've got other assets including a suit communications system," she tapped her sword idly. "But are you sure about this?"

I set my jaw. "I'd be honored to help."

End chapter 3

AN: So.... I had planned to do an action scene in here. And end with a POV shift.

Well.... see I wrote out that sequence. It ended up warranting a chapter split. I do hope that's acceptable.

The upside is that chapter is nearly done as I've written the action part and what's left is the closer scene from a new POV

And don't worry about ch4. I'm sure it will be just fine.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 4: Silver Wings.

It was a clear night. At this altitude the air was crisp, not that I could feel it through my suit.

VioletBlood and I had started a couple of over-flights to herald the opera house's main production with fireworks displays.

Our part of the plan was to go to a few locations out of the city and deploy a couple of explosions and sparkling streaks to draw attention towards the city center and the opera house. That only took half of our load out, but it would have been a bit suspicious to only take on a small amount of fireworks.

Using the rest of the Squadron's displays and our camouflage, we slipped away to the southeast of the city.

True to the duchess's word, House RedStorm's local Airspace Control didn't challenge us, and soon our scrying systems gave us good telemetry on an abandoned orchard out in the farmlands that approached the border, still about twenty miles distant.

Our specific target was a leaning, old gazebo. There were two schools of thought for clandestine meetings. One preferred meeting in a busy area to allow for someone to make use of crowds, labyrinthine buildings and terrain, and a variety of vehicles. In short giving a lot of areas to hide and break contact while retaining hidden support.

This had the downside that the other party, or third parties could also use terrain in such a way.

The other school advocated using a more remote area to make sure the site was secure before approaching and that no one was waiting in ambush before leaving. It took the opposite doctrine in being able to control, or at least reconnoiter the location. It allowed for more care to make sure the various parties were alone.

The downside was that if extra assets were hidden, then it could easily become a trap.

And given I was part of a Ritual Plate team on orbital overwatch, I can see why the duchess was willing to go along with this location. If the seller was on the up and up then there would be no need for us to do anything but log a few more boring flight hours.

"Seller's approaching the primary location," VioletBlood transmitted.

I sighed. The thaumaturgical links of our comms meant they were nearly emissionless. Stronger transmissions for longer ranged communication could be picked up. I was told the encryption system was also rather robust, but I had not yet gotten approval into the exact nature of the mathematics used.

From my experience with computation orbs, I was a fair hand at such calculations.

There was also transmitting in the clear on a commonly used channel, but VioletBlood would not be so insipid to do something like that.

Still my ire was more that VioletBlood's idle chatter was getting to me. This was the third time she had transmitted over the course of our surveillance. "Message received and seconded," I tersely replied.

Maybe the little baroness was upset because we were about eight minutes out from Narvos or maybe because this was her first time on a real mission. I suppose it was mine too, if you only counted this life.

Though on balance, it was better to have her on my wing, than be alone up here. Even if she was not so stoic.

There was a brief chirp of acknowledgement from the duchess' transmitter.

VioletBlood and I continued to fly over as the party came to meet Duchess SilverFlight and made the exchange. I caught a visual of the Sellers showing the supposed statue that was the overt point of this while also handing over some papers and other bits to show authenticity and providence.

"Sellers are leaving," VioletBlood stated with a bit of relief in her voice.

"Keep an eye on them. Things can still go wrong." I continued tracking with my Gorgon rig. Trusting VioletBlood would keep an eye on the group we knew about, I directed my attention elsewhere.

That's odd.

"I'm getting something to the south, by the river," I transmitted as I tried to work over the slight variance. The size was too wrong, but it might have been fliers under a Veil.

"Getting similar telemetry from the Sellers," VioletBlood's tone had gotten clipped and serious.

"Confirm," the duchess stated to us before going to her troops on the boat. "Centurions get in the air-"

"Multiple explosions!" VioletBlood and I shouted. On my display I could see the boat, the Sellers, and the gazebo where my... my... mentor was at were all hit.

The biggest was the boat and the smallest was Duchess SilverFlight.

"To me!" I ordered VioletBlood as I descended and put on max power to accelerate towards the duchess.

As we raced in, I could see the sparkling dome of a ward around the duchess's form. "Watch for other targets," I ordered VioletBlood. "SilverFlight. SilverFlight!"

"Yes, Tauria I'm here, just entertaining an old friend," the duchess said with some measure of strain.

It was then that I made a rookie mistake for a Ritual Plate Pilot.

I landed.

The ground came up and I saw that the duchess was fighting what had been an elegant woman. Imperious lines were still on her face, but her curled black hair had been cut harshly short and she wore a matte grey bodysuit. She dropped a smoking spear shaft to the ground.

And where once was the aloof, but harmless expression of the idle-rich owner of Heavenly Home, was now fanatical madness.

"You brought your daughter," she crooned. "My mother would be eager to see her. She'd love to have a granddaughter, that is if she doesn't take her for herself. We'll have to all meet and have some tea!" she screamed, ramming a silver-etched obsidian spearhead towards the duchess's ward.

The rune design looked to be Zioxan in style.

"Luddy, your mother has been dead for a decade," the duchess patiently said before the spear hit.

There was another explosion as the obsidian blade blew apart. The blast caused VioletBlood's and my wards to flare as the shockwave hammered us as it passed.

I was on the ground and thus my Ritual Plate's stupid boots dragged against the dirt, nearly flipping me over.

The duchess's ward blew apart, but she had already darted forward. Parrying the spear shaft, she slid her sword blade into Luddy's side. There was a shock of lightning and the duchess's friend fell to her knees.

"What's going on?" VioletBlood demanded.

I gave her a flat look before going to the duchess. "Someone captured and brainwashed Lady Luminedia Tessaris."

I felt sick. Such a thing was possible. A powerful demoness could take one of lesser power, or in a weakened state, and dominate her, twist her, make her into an obedient daughter. By BlackSkyvian standards, a great crime had been done to Luddy.

"And took out my Flight," the duchess stated. I could feel the rage and sorrow burning beneath her exterior. Her silver lips turned to a frown as she pulled out the blade and almost gently kicked Luddy to the side.

"And the people that sold you the Package."

The duchess shook her head and quickly checked Luddy's breathing and pupils. I could feel the Zephyr swirling around SilverFlight.

"You two can switch between carrying her and the Package. I'll follow right behind you," the duchess explained as she went to a marble statue of a demoness with six arms and three tails. She idly cut the head off with her blade and pulled out a small metal case the size of a deck of cards.

"You can't," I stated. The speed difference was too much. Ritual Plate meant far more power could be fed to our Zephyr.

I strode over to her and grabbed the Package. I did not need to know what it was, only that people were willing to kill and mind-rape for it. "Optio VioletBlood take it."

I handed it to her. "Go to Narvos."

Glancing at Luddy's limp form, VioletBlood slipped the slim object into one of the side compartments on her Ritual Plate.

"You are the fastest one here." I spat. "Get up, and after thirty and start pulsing your Gorgon Rig, to check to see who is following. Don't get stupid but that will be helpful."

The baroness nodded.

"Don't waste another second. Go! Now!" I ordered with as much authority as I could muster.

VioletBlood's masked face bobbled a me as her wings swept out and she automatically took off and darted into the distance.

"Mission focused, little one," the duchess said with a wan smile as her tail hung behind her. She said a few words into her communications system and if anything her tail drooped more.

"There's an incident at the opera house. The Troupe and Mira are helping with the fires and other problems. It sounds like they're arming up. So, we're still minutes from help and there are two groups converging on us faster than backup will come. You can still take Luddy"

I blinked, if things were bad enough that a demure librarian had to help legionary fliers... No matter.

"You're taking Luddy." I stared up at the duchess. I grinned as my tail flicked. "I'm going to go after and these bastards who did this to your friends."

The duchess had pulled Luddy in an awkward carry in front of her so she could still use her wings. "If she wakes up, I'll have to drop her."

I shrugged and let my impatience show.

"Right, time is slipping," the duchess unbuckled her sword and handed it over to me.

I wordlessly took it on. It was not much of a weapon in an aerial flight. Even as a focus, it did not have great range, but I did have experience with bringing a blade to an aerial mage flight. And it was nice to have an actual weapon instead of the glorified fireworks and glitter streamer that my suit was currently set up with.

The duchess took flight and started flying close to the surface. "You know they're going to follow me. If this is House Ziox they'll value me more than the Package, other than denying it to us. Regardless, a BlackSkyvian noble of my experience would be valuable."

I took to the air behind her.

"And that's not counting that the monster who did this is desperate to get back her 'daughter'," she spat.

"That's what I'm counting on, your Grace," I confidently said as a manic grin split my face.

++++++

I split off from the duchess and took a vector that looked like I was on VioletBlood's heels before I laboriously powered up a credible Veil.

I wanted to give the impression that I was a panicked young flier in an unarmed suit, trying to run away and hide. That I had been desperately trying to follow someone who was faster than me.

All the Diyu Great Houses used some form of Ritual Plate. Many used them as their primary form of air power. Some, like House Ziox, preferred to use nimble aircraft, some manned, some golems.

An aggressive, mid-size, power with designs on their smaller, and even their larger, neighbors, Ziox did not have as much of a focus on expeditionary capabilities. Their enemies were across the border instead of across the continent or offworld. Thus the calculus that led many powers to heavily invest in Ritual Plate was not there.

The logic went that Ritual Plate, at the cost of requiring pilot skill, expense, and precision arcane logistics, created a force that was extremely efficient on a firepower per mass basis.

This was extremely useful for a House that used carriers as a means of power projection. The weight efficiency meant that the limiting factor for naval powers such as Trosier and Alecto was not the number of RP Pilots their seaborne RP carriers could hold, but the amount of pilots they could recruit, train, and equip.

This had an effect on their carrier design and what ancillary craft they carried, such as utility, troop, and cargo transports or torpedo bombers. Fitting with our doctrine of mobility and ranged power projection we made heavy use of airborne Ritual Plate carriers. This meant House BlackSky could place a titanic and powerful or nimble and focused Ritual Plate platform at will.

From my past experiences, I still had issues with such a broad-spanning use of airships, but when combined with capital ship grade Wards and Teleportation Runes the results were quite useful. Escort craft and air defense were also required, and was why the Household Fleet invested in so many Air Groups dedicated to Combat Air Patrol, Interception and Defense.

House Ziox took the opposite approach.

Their enemies were all close by. They did not need to invest in a massive air fleet. They did not need to infest in defending said massive air fleet. Under the presumption that they would have runways, even short rough ones, to operate from they could, by and large, use more rugged, larger, and cheaper aircraft.

This gave them more overall thrust, and a slight edge in firepower over many comparable Ritual Plate models. On a firepower per cost aspect House Ziox came ahead. Thus they could produce more fighter and strike craft than if they were a primarily Ritual Plate force. They tried to be competitive with larger Houses, and overwhelming against smaller Houses. The downside was that these airframes were larger; which meant, on balance, they were less agile and easier to target.

These and other deficiencies meant that House Ziox still maintained a cadre of RP Pilots. As a platform Ritual Plate was too useful for any House to entirely ignore.

Taken from the most promising, and compatible, of their conventional pilot corps, and developing equipment and training from Trosier, House Ziox maintained a credible threat with their Ritual Plate force.

It was one of these units that I was up against.

A vicious smile formed as I increased altitude and collated the passive scrying from my own Gorgon rig. VioletBlood's own periodic pulses were illuminating the area. They also drew some attention to her.

But she had a head start, and the duchess, burdened by Luddy, and without the power of a Ritual Plate suit was much slower and much more vulnerable.

I took a sip of water and studied the intake of scrying data. I even triggered the command to heat up some broth and drank some of that thick, energy-enriched, concoction.

Poor, brainwashed, Luddy had not been in Ritual Plate. But the echoes I was picking up might just match with Satori pattern stealth ground strike Ritual Plate.

A bit of a hybrid design, House Ziox built the Satori as a capable, but relatively expensive, suit that could be useful to soften ground targets both hardened and softer. It was less powerful than a Telephe, but House Ziox preferred to use fixed wing platforms to go after large mobile enemy assets.

The Satori was not as powerful as the Telephe but it could fire more shots, if at shorter range. They were decent at ground support but a bit lacking in protection. In some ways, they were the Zioxan version of Polyxo. Though with less modularity in mission packages, which made them more of a compromise design all around.

Unless I was wrong and these were their Tjardu air-superiority pattern suits. Which was a high-performance modification of suits developed with House Trosier. I knew many pilots who would argue the pros and cons of a Harmonia versus a Tjardu.

The Tjardu was lighter and had greater turning capability while the Harmonia had greater protection and overall speed. Scrying systems and comms integration went to the Harmonia but the Tjardu was supposedly an easier platform to Veil. The Tjardu was also trickier to master with a steeper learning curve.

It was a bit academic to me, because few of those debates involved taking an unarmed Polydora, without any mission modules, versus at least two Flights of Zioxan Ritual Plate. Not to mention the likelihood that one of those pilots was powerful enough to Dominate a BlackSkyvian noble. I suppose, technically, my suit was not unarmed. I was carrying fireworks launchers.

The pulses from VioletBlood gave me just enough backscatter to examine with years of experience in aerial combat. I knew the enemy had split into at least two forces, three if you counted poor Luddy.

I knew where they were at a given point, when they had made those attacks against the duchess's pilots, and I knew where the duchess and VioletBlood were.

From there it was picking the locations that seemed most likely to hold an enemy force.

I flashed my fangs and dropped down to one of the two probable locations.

Without having on-board systems to worry about, I had spare capacity in my power budget. I stated by pushing most into my Veiling while edging up my speed.

The time for being low-profile would be ending soon, but I would keep that advantage as long as I could.

Closing in, the imagery resolved. Even at this distance, the quartet would be hard to make out, as they were more blurs of shadow and light. Fortunately, I was not limited to basic senses.

The combination of VioletBlood's help, a year of training, and a lifetime of general air combat experience pointed me to the Zioxan Flight. The four Ritual Plate suits were likely Satori. I suppose, they could be Tjardu bulked out with extra equipment, running below the normal cruise speed of such suits.

I picked the trailing and higher altitude member of their diamond formation. It seemed rather textbook, at least from what Ziox learned from Trosier, which came from the latter's wars against Alecto, who were in-turn taught by us.

It was a fast formation that gave mutual support in all three dimensions, having clear fields of fire and areas of detection. At the Squadron level, two more Flights would be flanking the lead Flight, each in their own altitude zone. Fortunately for me, while this force knew the book, they lacked the paranoia and experience to learn its limitations.

In a near vertical dive, I pulsed my Zephyr. The eager air spirits were simple creatures; their existence was centered around one thing: speed. It was an alluring trap for many a rookie pilot. Raw velocity was exhilarating. It also required careful warding to erect a proper aero-shell and keep the magical shield an optimized drag-reducing shape.

The pilot in what might have been a mottled grey-green armored suit was skilled. She actually turned and tried to intercept. Her scrying system had detected me.

Unfortunately for her, I was already above mach one with the duchess's sword held in my arm with the plates locked into place. She flicked aside as I lit the runes along the blade's length.

I may have been sub-optimally armed, but I was still armed.

Golden light flared along the edge as I slammed into the enemy flier. I had been aiming for the spot in her back just between her wings, about where her heart was.

Her wards flared. I triggered my suit's power, and for a brief moment her protective bubble collapsed under the kinetic and magical assault.

The cut was messy as the blade skittered over enchanted plates of armor before slipping between a backplate and a side panel. Impaled, she screamed in surprise and horror at such volume it was audible through her helmet.

Thrashing, she tried to turn and fling me off or at least get her own weapons pointed at me. I could feel her desperation, her shock, the pain lancing through her, but I pushed it aside. It was her or me.

Laughing, I twisted the blade and slammed yet more acceleration into my Zephyr as we continued plummeting towards the ground. Now, now, her desperation and horror was getting hard to push aside as my horns buzzed.

The rest of her Flight had flipped around and was vectoring in. There was a moment as they hesitated unsure if they should fire on their own comrade.

My expression became a malevolent, slashing grin as I tore the sword out of the pilot's back and sliced it across the base of her wings. While she screamed, I kicked off of her thrashing body and began a dash climb.

Now, would the Flight leader send one of her pilots to rescue the one I had stricken? They'd have to split up immediately if they wanted to catch her before she hit the ground. If she was very lucky, very skilled, and strongly bonded with her Zephyr she might be able to slow her fall enough to survive.

From the way their formation bobbled and broke up, I supposed their fourth member was begging for help, and the Flight leader was refusing. That did not bode well for her ability to save herself.

Well... time to push them just a bit further.

The enemy immediately started firing, bright green beams of evocation energy. I suppose I should feel honored they were bringing out near-Lance-grade weapons. I started keeping count of who was firing what, it was an academic exercise, at the moment.

I could burn out my ward emitters with every ounce of power I had, and a full Lance strike, even one from an inferior Ziox suit, would still pop my ward like a bubble and burn through my suit.

The nice thing about Zephyr and Ritual Plate was that with enough concentration, skill, and enchantment, thrust vectoring was possible. Sliding and twisting I avoided the powerful, but blunt, beams.

And then I returned fire. While I was only armed with pyrotechnics mortars, the actual projectiles were rather accurate, especially in a rapidly-closing combat.

And while the bursting charges were not strong enough to get through the enemy's wards, several pounds of burning, flaring fireworks blooms made excellent improvised chaff and blinding agents.

Overlapping, gaudy, multicolored explosions designed to light up a municipal downtown went through the diminished Flight. If they had been in a more spread-out formation not all of them would have been so readily caught.

Cohesion dropped as the two trailing pilots started to turn and try to get around. Meanwhile, I twisted, dove, and using the giant blinding distraction, rocketed up beneath the lead pilot.

A downside of Lance-grade weapons was they were not very subtle. When you pumped out that much arcane power there was enough luminosity and back-scatter to make them visible even at range.

And these pilots were panicked and had poor fire control, shooting at shadows. If they had held fire, I would have been just as blinded to their location as they were to mine. It was hard to keep track of who was firing what shots but it was vital.

Alas...

Lingering smoke, burning metal, and powder parted as I swept through the lead pilot. I don't know if she froze upon seeing me, or never knew I was there.

This time I led with a fist in locked armor and kept the sword back ready to swing. There was a jarring joint-tearing sensation as my ward slammed into hers and, with a thrust and blast of magic fire out of my fist, it shattered.

The moment that happened, I swept the blade out. The cut was workmanlike but the charged sword cut through her neck. There was only so much physical armor a Ritual Plate suit could have, especially at the joints. Beyond that you might as well build a Ziox style aircraft and armored cockpit.

In a spray of blood, the lead pilot's head came off and I felt a pulse of energy go up my sword arm and the gnawing in my gut abated. Even the pains and aches in my poor abused off arm started to fade.

I had to focus; it was too easy to bask in the bliss of feeding. It was also too easy to get tunnel-vision on the immediate combatant in front of you. There was at least another Flight out there. I still had to buy time for the duchess, the Package, and, I guess, VioletBlood to get out.

I triggered the deice, demud, miscellaneous cleaning function for the eye lenses to my suit. The blood cleared off, at least the vision-obscuring part. I supposed my helmet and chest armored were still splattered

Letting the lead pilot fall, I went to the nearer of the two remaining Satori Ritual Plate. Buzzing at the energy, I put the excess into my warding shield.

Shooting straight towards her, my only concern was to make sure this suit was between myself and the other surviving pilot.

I hoped that the CSR and our other intelligence branches had got an accurate assessment of enemy capabilities. I was more worried about that than any other part of this maneuver.

Sickly green beams shot out from the Zioxan pilot's Lances. I pulled and tried to avoid, but it was hard given that I had to get into knife-fighting range for her.

Ritual Plate doctrine emphasized ranged combat as much as possible. It was sensible and logical as that was the safest way to take out the enemy, and gave the most time and maneuver space.

Of course, that was the basic doctrine.

The more I moved the more the pilot fired as her beams became a bit more diffuse and lost some luster.

To my dismay, a moment later, I twisted wrong and a pair of Lances hit my wards straight on.

Even at this range, I could feel the relief coming from the enemy pilot. I screamed at the pain as my suit's enchantments took most of the arcane and mental load. The bleed-through was enough to scour my brain and I howled in agony as my wards failed.

But instead of bursting and letting the beams pierce through me, they ablated away as I rolled down. Runes flared and some blew apart as I careened into the enemy.

Then the green beams gutted out.

"You should have kept count of your ammo supply!" I screamed using my external speakers as I body-checked the shocked pilot. I debated using the open channel, a commonly used communications protocol that all the Diyu Houses knew of. But I was so close and my intention was to disturb and distract the enemy.

My body roiled in pain as she tried to claw at me. Her talons sparked against my armor and a few dug in under the shoulders. Close quarters combat was not a normal part of Ritual Plate training, at least for Houses that didn't make a full study of the suits.

My tail snaked out and slashed behind her knees. The pilot screamed and I used the break in her concentration to stab up through her side, the duchess's sword entering just under her chest armor.

I relished the burst of energy as I ripped the life out of her. By and large, our species was rather robust, hard to kill, but less so against a determined opponent.

I turned and tilted my head to the last pilot. Her flying was weak and her emotions broadcast with rage, loss and fear at how a diminutive flier had in bare moments wiped out the rest of her Flight.

I wondered if she would run, that was the smart move. She had to know I was fighting this way out of desperation due to being ill-equipped. Thus she could safely retreat and regroup with the other Flight.

By my count, she only had a few more shots in her Lance batteries, but that model of Ritual Plate had other offensive systems. Ones that still out-ranged my ad hoc weaponry.

"You! Monster! You killed my sisters!" she screamed in accented Silvan Latin in the clear over the open channel. And then she bounded straight at me.

I blinked. We were both demonic soldiers serving imperialist powers ruled by ancient demonesses. And it was her people who attacked us.

Anger grew within me, this time I let it flow freely and my own horns emitted it.

It seemed no mater the world, no matter the life I had to deal with irrational, emotional people who wanted to kill me for reasons that weren't my fault.

Circling and gaining more attitude, I bought some time to rekindle my wards. Many of the enchantments that made up the emitters had been burned out and the list of warnings displayed on the edge of my vision was getting uncomfortably crowded.

Still, if this pilot wanted to do an emotional, ill-conceived charge...

Who was I to dissuade her? I spared an instant to look at the timer and the overall situation. Every moment spent in this fight brought those I care- those who were my allies closer to safety and gave more time for reinforcements to come.

Lances shot out and I flicked and dodged. It took coaxing to push just that much more out of my Zephyr. The air spirits were exhilarated. It was a rare treat to be pushed this far, but even they had limits.

But, I had grown up with them, and my Zephyr trusted me.

I dug in and the very plates of my suit screamed in protest at the power being pushed through their enchantment. While a Polydora could have agility that put it somewhat close to that of a Harmonia air superiority fighter, that required the installation of mission modules full of specialized enchantments.

Green beams blew past as I shook, trying to evade and close the distance.

My enemy was rather obliging.

Feeling like we were eye to eye, I shot a brace of mortars at her, the massive, but mostly theatrical explosions blinding both of us.

Well, they would have blinded me, but I blink-closed the covers to my eye slits. Even with them in place, the light from the pyrotechnics bled through and lit up the inside of my helmet. For the moment I was dependent on the composite scrying feed from my and VioletBlood's Gorgon rigs.

The Zioxan pilot screamed and her beams went wildly off track. Exhaultant, I took her by the side.

This was the last member of her Flight, once I took out her ward, once I killed. her I would-

Oh no.

A massive thermal and arcane bloom flared onto my display.

On pure ingrained, intrained instinct, I took the yowling pilot and, using my sword as a lever, shoved her between me and the enemy attack.

An emerald green Lance that left me seeing stars, despite having the shutters closed on my eyes hit.

It turns out some of the enemy pilots were ruthless enough to shoot into their own comrades.

Blinded and confused, the Ziox pilot screamed as her warding, enchantments, Ritual Plate, and flesh all boiled away.

I had tucked into a ball for the first time pulling in my wings, and put every bit of power into my own wards.

At least I took out one Flight and had delayed the enemy by a fair bit.

++++++

Pure desperation and anger fueled me. These were not sustainable emotions. And my power situation was grim, but my suit was being held together by sheer force of will.

I will admit that I was impressed by the robustness of the humble Polydora and the skill of my Ritualista. In the vanishing chance I survived this I was going to buy them as many drinks as they wanted.

One arm hung limply. By sheer luck, and me turning my body so that was the side that got the glancing blow, it was not my sword arm.

Lances shot out in careful, deliberately-angled spreads that gave an instinctual, a doctrinal escape route. If they hit me then fine, but if I evaded, then I would have dove straight into a trap.

Compared to the previous Flight, this one operated at a higher tempo, cohesion, and experience.

It was also a reinforced Flight, with five pilots instead of the normal four. And the fifth one had that nasty overpowered Lance beam, and a custom Ritual Plate suit that throbbed with energy.

Often as not, she was the one who took the trap position when her minions tried to corner me.

Trying to Veil, I reduced my signature and attempted to draw them to the south. My worry was the Zioxan in the custom suit would grow bored and simply split her force.

Flipping to avoid a ranging Lance beam, I guzzled the last bits of water in my suit. Maneuverability and the enemy's trepidation were my main advantages. Instead of trying to get me head on and accept some losses, they were still probing.

They had to know I was minimally armed. They had to know I was in a Polydora without any mission modules.

They had to...

There!

Enchantments screaming, I slam-shifted from powering my Veil to my Zephyr.

Feeling incandescent, feeling dipped in molten silver, every feather seemed like it was made of raw nerves as I corkscrewed and slipped past the interweaving Lances.

Everything went into this, counting their shots, knowing their locations, monitoring transmissions, keeping abreast of my own suit's status.

Armor plates rattling, I spun, giving of a ghostly contrail of leaking magic that was a bare shade off the sparkle canister still attached to the small of my back. The silver motes covered my wings.

By doctrine, there was a trained way to escape this kind of bracketing, and this Flight would normally put their leader in a veiled position to use her superior power and suit to blast me.

It was a hard trap to escape.

But this time... this time there were two echoes covering the textbook escape route.

Grinning hurt, my lips were split, and bleeding.

Pushing into my wards I flipped over and launched feet first towards one of the two Zioxan fliers.

Firing over my body, I expended the last of my improvised chaff.

These pilots didn't panic when bright fireworks went off. They didn't waste their limited supply of Lance beams. The formation of pilot and wingwoman was also not debilitatingly close to each other.

Orange bolts shot out towards me like tracer fire. In a way that's what the lesser evocation was. They were the arcane equivalent of tracers, minus the physicality of the actual bullets. It saved a lot of weight, but at the cost of requiring pilots to be capable mages, which in all honesty was already a requirement.

On a damage per mass basis another alchemical fuel cell, even one specialized for evocation, was far more efficient than a hopper with a belt of machine gun ammo. It had the downside of being more expensive and maintenance intensive. Which was a factor that limited a lot of Ritual Plate.

The vision-impaired pilot fired a burst of bolts. A pilot of her caliber had plenty of power to spend on firing. However, my shield was more than capable of resisting, provided I evaded taking sustained bursts.

The last of the fireworks were going off as I hit. Anger and surprise, flared in her, but was backed by resolve. Pulsing out my own hate, I levered my sword and discharged the last bit of my offensive power.

If my estimation of this pilot's skills were off....

My broken arm flopped as her ward just barely popped. I watched as her wingwoman moved into position. She did not want to kill her companion to get me, but she was ready to do it. She had slowed and took a steadied position to snipe me if need be.

Perfect.

Unlike the previous Flight, the pilot I was locked into had experience with close combat and with eerie calm angled her gauntlet and opened fire point blank at me.

Orange bolts sparked over my ward but before it collapsed I stabbed the duchess's sword just below her elbow joint and levered.

Screaming in shock, she didn't halt the firing command. Orange bolts shoot out as I twisted the sword and, with a push of my Zephyr, twisted us around.

Her wingwoman got into motion, but it was too late.

Bolts of fiery energy stitched over the second pilot's suit. I had bare moments before the runaway gunfire stopped. The luckless woman's ward shattered and the bolts scythed against her armor before it failed. Using the sword as a crude aim point I made sure the wingwoman was dead by unintentional friendly fire.

Letting my glee and satisfaction bloom, I turned to the woman I had in a bladed embrace. Shock turned to anger as her tail shot out, but I had already readied mine and cut hers off at the base.

Wrenching the sword, I slammed the pommel into her helmet. Her head lolled and flipping the blade around I put the tip in and wrenched off her face mask.

A terrified woman who didn't look much older than Visha stared at me, her green eyes with bleary confusion. There was a sudden spike of comprehending fear on her face. Then I slashed the blade tip across them and punched the sword down her mouth.

There wasn't far for it to go. Her death spasms rocked me and power flowed in. I gasped and felt feeling, painful glorious feeling return to my broken arm as flesh and bones knitted.

Kicking the corpse away I dove down with renewed vigor. My heart rocked with more energy than a stim injection.

Now there were three left.

And they were closing in.

++++++

"Little BlackSkyvian!" A voice boomed out above me.

I raced down and knew I had to break contact.

"You've impressed me! Savage, skilled, ruthless. And for one so very young." The words were in a cultured purr, her Silvan Latin perfect. Somehow the voice was not as loud as it should have been.

I gave a moment to take in the overall layout. She had slowed and seemed to be following in an almost disinterested manner. The remaining half of her flight followed behind her, flanking.

This was the woman who had taken and mind-raped Luddy. She had also blown up the duchess' mercenary pilots. And I had just killed six of her pilots.

And she was congratulating me.

Stupid, crazy demons.

"I know what you're doing, fledgling," she said in her smooth, smarmy murmur. "You want to go to the river, the border, draw out this fight."

I twisted and poured more into my Veil and then went for altitude. The distance from them to me was gaining. If I broke contact I could go and attack from another vector.

"I know you think you can draw us to the southeast while your... mother perhaps? And your mate, mayhap, escape? How self sacrificing." Now, the voice was almost intimate. "But I can send my two girls after you and take care of them myself." Her voice deepened and became harsh. "I assure you I am more than fast enough to intercept them well before they reach the city."

I winced and worked to keep my horns insulated. We have been given lessons on dealing with elder demons and mental prowess was one of their major threats.

"I'm upset." Her voice was flat, all the charm was gone. "I rather liked that new daughter. Don't make me choose, fledgling. I'll take them or I'll take you."
My body spasmed. I had to focus on the mission. I would also never let her take me. If I had to engage with her, then so be it.

I turned and hit the open channel. "You have no idea. Compared to the beings I have killed, the armies I have shattered, a jumped up Zioxan pilot is nothing," I stated in a flat even tone.

"Oh, you are a temptress my blood-coated broodling," she chuckled. She was now transmitting on the same channel. "And I am no jumped up pilot. I am War Mistress Zaphania Rodswor commander of the Second Assault Infiltration Wing. Favored by the Dictatrix herself. And you will be my daughter, fledgling."

I kept my guard up. It didn't seem like she was using her mind powers. But... explicitly being told by a powerful demoness that she wanted to dominate and brainwash you was not fun.

"Please, make a show of it, someone armed with fireworks taking out Flights of enemies has style," Zaphania purred. "Take pride in my approval, fledgling."

I gave a broken chuckle. Well... now I had leverage. I can make it so the War Mistress or her minions won't kill me outright

"Hah! Like the approval of a failure means anything to me." I sneered.

I let the channel hang mute for a moment. I was not normally open to being so chatty in battle, but my weapons were few and I was not so prideful to turn one down.

Zaphania started to reply but I cut her off.

"You stink of it. You are a failure of a commander, a failure of a mother. You are an example of all that is wrong with our kind." I snarled. "Heavy-handed, clumsy domineering. Sacrificing loyal troops, loyal daughters, abusing their love then tossing them like so much spoiled meat when you decide to chase a new bauble."

I allowed myself to laugh and projected out my emotions. Maybe I could unsettle her.

Her voice was cold and brittle. "Piper. Michelle. Give her a lesson in respect. A painful one. Consider it an education for all three of you."

"Yes Mother!" they said, voices tight.

I tracked the two remaining pilots break from Zaphania and streak out towards me.

Great, just as planned.

That was the problem of the open channel, it was hard to hide your location when you were openly broadcasting.

It all came down to resources. My suit was trickling down on power. I had fed on the life energy of a few pilots, but I had drunk all my water and broth, so there was no more physical food coming in. I was empty on mortar rounds. There were other resources such as time, altitude, speed, and knowledge.

I also had my body.

Veiling up, I raced over to try and get past the two pilots. If I could regain some uncertainty in where I was...

A rapid hailstorm of orange bolts fired out from both of them.

Lovely, at least they weren't using Lances.

Their assault bolts had less power and range, but had more frequency of fire. And enough hits would shatter my ward. And then they'd be on me.

The sensible thing would be for them to stay back and, using mutual support, pound me into submission.

But they were goaded into making this personal. Pushing my Zephyr, feeling my wingtips starting to char as the magical "waste heat" became too much to manage, I pushed my suit to where most of the status indicators on my Display started blinking orange.

The plates continued to rattle as I expended my suit's lifespan to pull the two pilots into a spiraling, twisting turning fight. The artificial horizon display spun until the gimbals seized and it flicked with a fault warning.

Orange bolts shot past me as I desperately used what little I had left to get behind them. To get into the textbook position for a firing solution.

I failed.

At that.

If they had been thinking clearly, maybe Piper or Michelle would have wondered why I was trying to get behind them. I had no way to hurt them from that angle.

Instead, they got target fixation. And one of them managed to blast apart my ward while her wingwoman stitched orange bolts over my body.

Or she would have if I hadn't rolled and tucked my legs up.

It was a tumbling move I had learned in ballet. And it put the armor of my lower leg and the armor of my thigh in front of my torso. It also protected what was behind my torso.

The pain was excruciating as my left leg was holed and my right was blown apart above the knee.

My suit, loyal to the end, deployed automatic tourniquets to staunch the blood loss. And then analgesics to put some edge off the spiking, debilitating pain.

The two pilots saw me tumbling, shedding armor plates and spraying blood.

They closed in.

I could have focused on healing, I could have focused on getting my wards back up.

Instead, I pushed as much as I could, from my suit's power cells, from those I had fed on, from myself into the sword. The engravings flared with a bright, ominous light, it was full. And then I put in more.

I was tumbling. I was fading. I was bleeding. But they had stopped firing.

Distance was hard, but worse was getting the right vector. I also had limited time before this went all wrong.

Now.

I pulled my arm and whipped the sword out to the trailing of the two pilots.

Swords are not meant to be thrown. They have all the wrong balance. And getting the blade to stick, on an armored, warded foe was folly. Fortunately, at that moment I didn't care about the sword as a sword.

The pilot seemed amused by the flailing blade. She actually just did the bare minimum to keep the sword from biting her.

And then the overloaded magical capacitors built into the sword exploded.

Part of me winced at destroying the duchess' prized possession. Part of me rejoiced that the explosion was enough to blast through the pilot's ward shield and snap her neck.

She flopped over dead and fell like a doll caught in the wind.

"Piper No!" the other pilot screamed as she tackled me. I twisted and tried to get out. Well, at least this gave me a chanc-

Talons raked over my helmet and tore my facemask off. Cold air blasted past my face as my eyes were exposed to the shearing wind.

It was like being back in Norden.

I twisted, aimed my hand, and set a small blast of fire against her torso armor. Runes flares and the material softened and worry crossed the pilot's face, but it wasn't enough. Her suit ejected the malformed heated plate revealing her unharmed inner bodysuit.

"Running on empty?" she laughed, angling herself so the weak spot was no longer within my reach.

"How does it feel knowing your mother prefers me to all your sisters!" I cackled. In the desperate moment, it was easy to forget my mangled legs.

Fury and hate pulsed over me. I wondered if she would ignore her mother's orders and kill me. That would be preferable.

Her tail swept up and went straight to my face. I could see the writhing, razor sharp filaments extend. I reached out and grabbed her tail.

The filaments quickly cut through the gloves and armor, and it was like holding a miniature chainsaw. Before my hand disintegrated I yanked hard on her tail and she slammed back into me.

The pain was horrific but I burned with contempt as I rammed my own tail into her torso. My own set of razor filaments went throught the weak spot where her suit had ejected the armor and into her guts. Stretching my tail up, I searched and shredded organs until I found her heart.

Her body went limp as I pulled in her energy. That made eight kills.

It was not enough, I needed to have fed on both of the last two.

Or I needed to-

And that's when War Mistress Zaphania dropped down and took me from behind.

Her mental presence pressed on my weary mind, my drained will. Her arms wrapped around mine and she tisked seeing my ruined hand and legs.

"You should have given in," she purred, popping up her own face mask.

A pale face with hard amber eyes stared at me. She had the lean, cold beauty of an elegant equation. The War Mistress slowed our velocity. Right here, right now, she was going to bite me and make me her daughter. I should have expected that.

I did expect that.

"You wouldn't have accepted that," I coughed, looking up at her. She seemed so much bigger than me. I looked away.

"No, I wanted to see if you were worthy, Daughter," Zaphania leaned closer. "And you are; you used every weapon."

"Not quite," I smirked.

Confusion crossed the War Mistress' face. She then felt the canister between her and me.

And then I released the contrail container at the small of my back. It had no explosives, but my Zephyr, ever loyal, used the last of their power to shoot the glitter and sparkles upward.

War Mistress Zaphania shrieked as her eyes, mouth, and nose were sprayed with the brightly sparkling motes.

Blinded, there was a shocked moment. I spun around; her face was so close to mine.

Stretching, I head butted under her chin, and with the War Mistress' head knocked up, I opened my mouth and clamped my fangs over her neck just above the collar of her armor.

I didn't hold her there, but I chewed and shook as I drained her vita and worked through to tear out her spine. I did not know exactly when she died, and how much I had eaten as my remaining hand started clawing apart her armor.

But I did know that we had started to plummet. Things turned grey after that. I do remember using my own wings to slow down, and made sure I landed near the body.

I was very hungry.

Horror could wait until I was not dying.
That's what I told myself before I passed out.

++++++

Things had been... exciting in the last few days. Exactly what had happened up there south of Narvos was being kept under the bodice.
There was more tension with House Ziox. House RedStorm was on a higher alert. House Andromache simply upped their tempo of training missions.

But such matters were above my pay-grade.

My concern was what had happened to one of my Cadets. For my sins, for my skills, I had been rotated off of being assigned to a deployed Legion and had spent this year training future Legion Fliers, including a certain Cadet Optio Tauria DiamondDust.

Cadets who, upon entering the Legions proper, would be a core of new Centurions with extra experience and skill, at least in training. Which will help the far larger number of new pilots who had yet to bond with a Zephyr or wear Ritual Plate.

As assignments went, it was a mixed bag. They were all very driven and very skilled. Mediocrity was uncommon among those who could find the patronage to get access to Ritual Plate at a young age.

But that elitism did make for some insufferable little brats. Fortunately, I had Andromachin Cadets to throw them against which managed to knock the wind out from their wings. House Andromache had little time to indulge their new pilots.

Still, this year's Cadet squadron was solid. Even if one of my Cadets did have me worried.

Well technically two, but VioletBlood was uninjured and, aside from a few careful interviews, was out and about.

Walking through the corridors of Castra Bovitar's Volantes admin building, I shook my head. Nobles were trouble.

The ones who thought the rules did not apply to them were bad enough. They could be worked around and were driven by simple graft.

But the ones who felt they have an obligation to greater heroics and self sacrifice?

They ended up Imperial Heroes or getting a lot of people killed. Often both.

I slowed as I approached my destination. Everyone knew centurions were notorious gossips on a level that would make a meddling grandmother in a farming hamlet proud.

But there was truth to that.

Centurions had a broad range of responsibilities depending on rank and specialization. A generic centurion, shockingly, was in charge of a Century of Legionaries. Where a Pilus Prior Centurion commanded a Cohort. And everything from Tank Troops to Ritual Plate Squadrons had some kind of Centurion in command.

The scuttlebutt had come down that this was an important meeting. Beyond the ranks involved, whatever had happened in Narvos was casting a long shadow.

Thus I had dressed up a bit in my uniform. I could normally get away with a flight suit or even a tunic or coat over the inner layer RP bodysuit but not for this. The black pants and tunic were nothing too gaudy or dressy, but enough to show diffidence.

And I had arrived early, even by the Legion standards of "on time is late, early is on time".

Two things struck out. One: the guards at the meeting were not just Legionaries but were huscarls. Personal elite guards, all former Legion. A high ranking Legate often had such a force. Looking over their insignia, my tail went stiff.

Oh.

The other thing walked up to me with a stiff smile. Senior Prefect DeltaVoid, commander of the base's Ballet Troupe nodded to me.

"Artemis," she stated.

"Florentina , I see the Palace is interested in our little hellion," I stated, nodding to the huscarls. We were the same rank: Prefect Volantes Centurion. While she was a Senior Prefect, I had an honor name. And I felt our past meant I could be a bit familiar with her.

"I don't know if I should strangle the little monster or hug her," she sighed. "Despite being up there and dealing with... events, I've been in the dark."

That was ominous. "It's not just her I worry about," I replied.

"Her mother?" DeltaVoid asked.

We chuckled at that. Tauria DiamondDust was a very stubborn girl, and over the most particular things. But given how she lost her birth mothers, she might still be hesitant to be adopted by the duchess. She was certainly closed off enough.

Shortly, an aide ushered us into the meeting room. It was surprisingly small and intimate, with space for maybe a dozen people.

The first thing I noticed were my horns tingling at the privacy fields. I glanced over to a demure woman in a prim black business-wear of bustier and jacket. Oh.

The doors were closed behind us.

"Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus," the aide, a perky willowy Tribune said, introducing me. She seemed oddly at ease. "And Senior Prefect Volantes Centurion Florentina DeltaVoid."

We then saluted to... an uncomfortable number of Legates. When dealing with general officers any number is sub optimal. Three was... worrying.

The one at the head of the table returned the salute.

"Be at ease, and take a seat," House Legate AshRain said. She had pale blue skin and dark blue hair pulled into a tight braid. To look at her stern features one would not think she was the youngest Daughter of the Imperatrix.

But if you saw her skill in command, it would be apparent. Her rank was House Legate only because a Consular Legate was, officially, a temporary posting in time of war, one confirmed only with the approval of a majority of the Senators in the Curia.

She directly commanded Corpus Incursio Reliance, a formation of four Infantry Legions, two Armor Legions, two Reserve and Training Legions, and all their support equipment and supplies. She also had access to the Emurian Sixth Landing Fleet which was capable of transporting and supplying six Legions at once.
She also had, by seniority, operational command enough Legions to form two more Corpus Incursio, which could be formed into a full Coetus Malleus. Having de facto command of about twenty active Legions, was one thing.

But more than having a quarter of the Imperial Legion's active forces and considerable fleet support, was where they were stationed: Silvana.

Technically, Castra Argentum, the Headquarters of the Imperial Legions and the Household Fleet, had overall command of all of the forces in the capital and neighboring provinces. But it was one thing to say that the Legati Staff would command those Legions, it was another to have a Daughter, and frequent holder of the rank of Consular Legate in active command in that area.

Not all of those Legions were billeted right in the capital. But a hundred and fifty thousand, organized and trained, Legionaries near the City of Trees would be commanded by someone the Imperatrix trusted explicitly.

Hence House Legate AshRain, BlackSky's youngest Daughter.

We nodded and sat down.

"Apologies for keeping you waiting, I was telling my colleagues about some of the diplomatic and strategic repercussions from the events," AshRain said.

"We're making our displeasure known to House Ziox, as we can point to several capital crimes taken in our territory and our ally's territory," Castra Legate Evanda stated. She was a shorter, brawny woman with curled ram horns and dark green skin and ebony hair cut short. Her hooves were glossy black with silver chasing.

"We'll need to have you and your girls and the Air Groups up their readiness, in case Ziox decides to shake the fence," Volantes Legate Aucto said. She had honey colored hair pulled back with a set of valor pins and was every bit the elegantly sleek look of an ideal Imperial Flier. Beneath her cold expression she had a mix of fierce pride at one of her cadets performance and protective vengeance at them being wounded so grievously.

"The Household Fleet has been put on a similar warning level," AshRain stated. "But we have invited you two to speak on personal matters. As well as Volantes Tribune Duchess SilverFlight."

The duchess bowed her horns to Florentina and I.

"And Palace Librarian Mira HeartWood."

The prim, demure-seeming woman nodded as her tail swished.

That confirmed it. There was no way Miss HeartWood was merely a librarian. Doubtless, she was a personal Librarian of the Imperatrix.

A Librarian and a Daughter. This went all the way to the top.

A Daughter was one thing, but, if so authorized, a Librarian could pry out any secrets we had and would do so with an eager, inquisitive curiosity. And having nothing to hide was only some comfort.

Keeping her expression controlled, Florentina sent me a comforting emotional pulse. She knew I had met the Imperatrix. It was a year after I had been given my honor name and was part of an event in the capital.

Imperatrix BlackSky is.

She was more than willing to delegate power and trust loyal subordinates.

She also could be personable and put a young Centurion at ease.

But...

There was a vast gulf that separated her from even someone like the House Legate.

And there was another chasm between AshRain and I.

I returned sending my own comforting emotions to Florentina.

"Be not afraid," Mira said, her tone and emissions seeming genuinely perky and assuring. "This is not an inquest and we have no questions about your actions with young Optio DiamondDust."

"We're quite impressed with your work with her. All of you," AshRain included the duchess with us mere Centurions in that.

"She can be a challenging girl," the duchess allowed. "But her heart is in the right place."

Florentina managed not to snort, but everyone with horns knew she would have.

For a moment AshRain gave me an amused pulse, but her expression remained mild.

"Honored Legates, nobles, and Palace personages, may I request confirmation as to what happened?" I asked.

The Duchess Tribune sighed. "Three days ago I was in Narvos as the same time as Centurion DeltaVoid and her girls. I had been lending... support to a Librarium operation." She glanced to Miss HeartWood.

The Librarian nodded.

Great. Spook business and the duchess decided to provide some of her mercenaries as semi-deniable backup.

"A facilitator within House Ziox was willing to sell information to us," Mira stated.

I simply bowed my horns to her. The more a Librarian told you the worse things were.

"Said facilitator saw herself as loyal to her House, but would happily give information on other Houses, even those allied to Ziox."

I gritted my teeth.

Thankfully, Florentina was feeling reassuring towards me. I might have to make it up to her after this meeting. It had been a while since we had shared a meal.

"But the collected notes a senior Ziox officer had on the readiness and state of the Trosier Armada are fascinating, given their implications." Librarian HeatWood played the part of an eagerly guileless academic well.

"I believe that is enough," AshRain stated.

I couldn't help but frown. The medium three Houses: Irkella, Ziox, and Trosier banded together to resist pressures of the larger Great Houses. And to better dominate smaller houses, both Greater and Minor.

And while they were closely aligned, and had military observers and trained together, they still did a lot of spying on each other. And jockeyed for position in their alliance. If what Librarian HeartWood was saying was true then this data could be very useful.

While Ziox was not a direct threat to us, and was a frank threat to our allies, House Trosier did have the capability to shut down our seaborne trade while also being a frank threat to our other allies.

Or Librarian HeartWood could be making something up to plant false information in our minds. It was hard to tell, even the uncomfortable reactions of the Legates was not proof one way or the other.

Trying to outthink a Librarian would give you at best a headache and a nose bleed and at worst it would be the last thing you would think of.

The duchess shook her head. "Despite unofficial cooperation with local House RedStorm governance, we decided to have a low profile persistent airborne observation."

"Optio Baroness VioletBlood and Optio Tauria DiamondDust," Mira happily added.

I wondered if she was deliberately leaving off the Cadet modifier.

Florentina sighed. "We had permission to operate in the Narvos airspace. And given the source of the request, I agreed to release the two."

"It went wrong," I stated.

"War Mistress Zaphania Rodswor, commander of the Second Assault Infiltration Wing, led a Squadron in Satori Ritual Plate. And a brainwashed BlackSkyvian noble," Volantes Legate Aucto stated with that same mix of anger and pride.

"Ma'am, the Flight that attacked us in Narvos was not an isolated incident?" Florentina asked.

"Correct, she sent one Flight to you, but the other two she aimed right at our DiamondDust. It's some consolation that one of the Flights was relatively green. We surmise this was being used as a training mission for them."

"Pardon?" I asked. War Mistress Rodswor was not quite an elder but she was a powerful figure in House Ziox's special Ritual Plate forces. More than an Ace, she was an instructor of Aces. Her habit of making daughters out of her fliers was... distasteful, even by Zioxan standards.

But Dictatrix Ziox indulged her obsessions as the War Mistress had a way of finding and "cultivating" talent.

The various Assault Infiltration Wings that made up the Special Air Group were the elite of their Ritual Plate forces, small as they were. On balance, their equipment and training was not to our level.

But... the numbers alone. Two unarmed cadet pilots, and four mercenaries against nine.

"Did she and VioletBlood manage to help while the duchess's mercenaries fought them off?" I asked.

Sorrow came off the duchess in waves. "No. Zaphania slew my troops before they could launch."

"Then..." Florentina stared.

"Tauria sent VioletBlood off with the Package. Ordered me to take Luddy and go at best speed." The duchess beamed with maternal pride. "And then she killed every single one of those Zioxan mind-raping bastards."

"Ma'am?" I asked.

"She's right, Centurion," Volantes Legate Aucto flashed her fangs. "The three of you helped train our youngest Ace in centuries. She fought superior numbers who had superior range using every trick in the book, inventing a bunch of her own, and exploiting everything they knew about our book."

"After this meeting, I want you two to go with my tactical analysis group and double check their reconstruction of the fight."

"But... she couldn't-" Florentina stopped. I felt the denial fade and certainty bloom in her. "No, she could and she would."

I thought of the reserved and vicious girl who always did her best to excel, but also kept her emotions pulled in. "She was unarmed," I stated but added an interrogative burst.

I was not doubting that Tauria did this, I was asking how.

"I did give her my sword," the duchess admitted.

"And she found a way to weaponize the fireworks mortars and the contrail sparkler." Volantes Legate Aucto laughed. "She defeated them in detail, and Zaphania was taken in by her arrogance."

Despite her anxiety and pride, Florentina nodded. "Tauria did theorize about some of the combat applications of our theatrical accessories."

"It turns out they work reasonably well as blinding devices," Mira eagerly noted.

"Fireworks, glitter, and a sword. Nine to One." I looked around the table. "If I may, what is the purpose of this meeting? I was told Tauria would recover."

"She got mass trauma to most of her limbs and the regrowth will take a bit of time, but she's in capable medico hands," the Librarian said with almost surreally-open mirth.

I nodded and let the rest of my question hang.

"Centurions, Tribune, none of us doubt the skill or heroism of young Optio Tauria DiamondDust. I've already put in recommendations for awards and honors," House Legate AshRain stated.

I put out a bit of interest at the unstated question.

Tribune Duchess SilverFlight looked at the table. "I've been trying to get her to open up more, but she's just so guarded."

"If she was badly hurt, she must have fed," Florentina surmised.

"On the War Mistress herself, our reconstruction of her suit's telemetry shows she practically rode the corpse to the ground. Serves her right." Castra Legate Evanda smirked.

Evanda had worked her way up from a basic hoof-slogger, literally in her case. And while the Legionaries loved their Ritual Plate fliers for their firepower support, there was a bit of separation from those who mostly fought on the ground and those who could retreat at supersonic speed.

That Evanda was so impressed by the bloody carnage was a good sign.

That the Legates still wanted to talk to us was a bad one.

"When she went into combat, when she didn't know if she'd get back... Tauria did let down her walls. Not just the clumsy ones she thinks I can't see around, but all of them. She was full of love and bloodlust, but focused." The duchess shook her head. "You had to feel it."

I smiled. I had seen inklings of such potential in her, but while Tauria put her all into her training, it was still training. By its nature there were limits in place.

AshRain put a hand on the table. "There were.... concerns that Optio DiamondDust might have been stunted. This is in no way to lessen the work you or Sister Clementia did in raising her, but there were questions."

"There are also concerns about the trauma she incurred from such a stressful combat, with someone her age, defending her mother... figure," Mira stated.

I glanced at the Librarian.

"We are examining her, and giving her care," Volantes Legate Aucto assured us. "Librarian HeartWood had volunteered to help, and you two talking to her will help her."

I nodded, counseling and empathic therapy were very common, especially in the Legions where so much direct trauma from ground combat happens quite a bit. Though any Household Fleet sailor who had to do damage control as her ship burned down around her and plummeted out of the sky more than earned her missio causaria.

A medical discharge had no shame; it was honorable. And given our ability to heal most all wounds in time, most missio causaria were for non-physical wounds.

"Her... guarded nature could make that hard, she can be very stubborn,"

Mira shrugged. "I cannot condone breaking that part of her," for a moment her tone and demeanor shifted and she spoke in the tone of Judgment. "We can all help her and guide her, but there will be no forcing her. We are not Ziox or their ilk."

The Legates, including a Daughter of the Imperatrix nodded.

I sent reassurances to Florentina.

The duchess looked down, her tail swishing. "I tried my best with her."

Mira was back to bright, and genial. "And you succeeded wonderfully! The Imperatrix herself compliments you. And I will be taking a personal interest in Lady Luminedia Tessaris' recovery as well. From talking with her, her mate, and her family, I am confident that we can bring her peace."

The duchess bowed her horns to the Librarian. "You honor me. When I saw what had been done to Luddy..."

Mira seemed happy. "The honor is BlackSky's. Bonds of obligation must be maintained. Unfortunately, we can only give counseling and monetary remittances to the families of the pilots you lost, your Grace."

"But the Family does honor those who bled and suffered for the House," AshRain added.

I gave a stern agreement. House BlackSky had issues, our Nobility had their problems, corruption, and vainglory. And the imperial family, the Family, was so far above the rest of us... But... there at least there was the attempt of honoring promises and commitments.

Yes, the cynical part of me that came from being a long-serving Centurion knew much of it was due to realpolitik. A track record of honoring pacts, of keeping one's word was a powerful tool when it came to getting others to do what you wanted. It was useful in interpersonal relationships and among institutions.

"I know she will accept such counseling and appreciate it," I stated. "If only because it is a part of our regulations on how to deal with post-event trauma."

"Whether or not she will go with the spirit of such conversations is another matter," Florentina added.

"All we can do is give her the choice," AshRain said.

"And make sure she is cleared back for flight duty." Volantes Legate Aucto tilted her head. "Or cadet training. We are still considering her assignment after this.

"It will be helpful to get to know her," Mira so innocently stated. "She seems very interesting."

My poor cadet.

"If you had not told me she was born a demon, I would not have believed it." I stated. "Tauria in many ways acts like a turned succubus."

The House Legate put her full interest on me. "Go on?"

"She's not uncultured or unskilled in our ways. Other than some minor things. But she was raised properly. If anything she's very mentally mature for her age. Even by cadet standards. But..."

I let out some uncertainty. "There's always a little gap. If she were not a pilot I would wonder if her ability to use her horns and bond with others was... diminished."

Florentina was heartened by that. "I agree; she's obviously one of us. She's pretty, female, violent, aggressive, and capable of our magic and empathy; she's clearly a demon. Once she's fully grown she'll be a powerful succubus and an ideal of BlackSkyvian martial skill."

"An Ace at twelve," I chuckled. Her young age was exceptional, but give her a few years and it would be merely novel.

"But you have reservations?" AshRain gently inquired.

I had to shake my head. Ritual Plate Pilots were screened and watched. That was a lot of personal power given to someone who could cause a lot of damage before being subdued. And Tauria had just shown how much someone could do with an unarmed suit.

"She is odd. She has issues with ballet, not dancing or her skills, but that she is good at them, that and some other feminine things. And then there is her intensity, but unlike many arrogant, young prodigy pilots she is a stickler for procedure.."

"More of that cultural separation?" Mira asked with a little smile to herself. Thank the Imperatrix she did not elaborate further.

"Given her combat capability, this does explain her intensity." I was relieved that Tauria at least had an outlet for these tendencies. I fear what would have happened if a girl like her had not chosen to enlist into the military. That she sought special dispensation to become a cadet earlier was just more proof of that wisdom.

She belonged in Ritual Plate. I idly wondered if her suit could be repaired; if it would be made into a relic. Not a holy one, though she was raised in the Church of DarkStar...

AshRain seemed to let out a bit of tension. that a Daughter had trepidation was... well understandable. "Good, if either of you have any private concerns I will be here for the rest of today and tomorrow helping deal with the situation and observing the full reconstruction of the fight. I promise I will take your statements with full confidentiality."

She looked to the other Legates. "Barring that, it looks like My mother's, the Imperatrix's, confidence in Tauria DiamondDust's maturity and experience is fully warranted. I would like to give my personal congratulations to her."

"I'll make sure she'll be awake for that," Volantes Legate Aucto assured. "I'm sure she'll love hearing about how proud we all are of her."
I smiled. If Tauria had one sin it was that she did like status. Which, among our kind, was a venial one. And the duchess was a good patron to help smooth things out. Still getting such official recognition from the Imperial Family was bounty to help her star's rise.

Tauria DiamondDust had shown vast desire, and breathtaking talent for combat, and the House was willing to do everything it could to cultivate that talent to help her desires.


End Chapter 4

Well..... it took more buildup than expected. But.... I got out some combat, and a non-Tanya pov. There will be more of these scenes.

I felt that Tanya was a good "Watson" to help setup the basics of this world and now there's enough groundwork that we can start having more fun with other perspectives .

Such as how Artemis Magnus Quirinus and Florentina DeltaVoid have no issue stating what kind of demoness their species is.


I want to thank everyone who's commented and helped me with this project and especially to DCG, Ellf, and Green Sea for checking over this concept and reading over it.

And thanks to Kevin Hammel for going over it himself as well!

Additional: The first four chapters of this story have gone through a slight revision process. Mostly doing minor corrections for typo, grammar, and continuity.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Full size

One note is that this is set in the future after Tauria/Tanya has gotten a Polyxo model and is in command of well... spoilers.
To her annoyance, even as a teenager she's short.

I really like the arts and it's fun how each has its own color theme. And it's nice to have a setup for each type of RP (well at least of BlackSky major models)

But I've got this info dump just laying around so let's put that in with some links to other peices of specific model.

Common types of Ritual Plate:

Harmonia: Air superiority and interceptor suit. Agile and high speed. Often used for defending fleet assets against air strikes or for attacking enemy fighter assets. They can also run escort for Torpedo Boats and other air assets. Some of highest thrust to weight ratios requiring strongest Zephyr, and Pilots capable of managing such spirits and extreme maneuverability.

Telephe: Strike unit and Fighter-Bomber. Suit is a bit more solidly built has strong Lace battery projectors in gauntlets and capacity for arcane energy storage in armored flasks around waist. Powerful ranged offensive unit, each suit has a couple shots that can take out large vessels or targets. Lances can work in a high explosive or armor piercing role depending on the nature of the target. Air to air capability, but not as much as a Harmonia. Also requires Pilots with the skills in Evocation to manage the extreme power of Lance strikes.

Sarpedona: Ground Support unit. Has strongest warding and armor. Focuses on air to ground weaponry, both for anti-personnel and anti vehicle. They also run escort for landing zones and VTOLs. Can also function in an air defense role as well as a ground attack. Capable of more maneuverability at lower speeds. Ideally requires Pilots who can interface with ground troops to provide direct support and manage relatively close combat with manifold weapons and targets. Very intense operational tempo. Suits can be customized for types of arcane load-outs and if they are primarily in an anti-infantry, anti-armor, or anti-arcane role.

Polydora: All around unit. Has more modularity than other suits and is built to work in any of the preceding roles, but not as efficiently as a dedicated suit. Squadrons of these are often used by smaller carriers, either as a full compliment or part, to add tactical flexibility depending on mission requirements. There is also the requirement of a Pilot being able to work in a multitude of roles.

Less-common types of Ritual Plate:

Occultia: Low observable, theater-grade surveillance and recon suit. Less offensive power but more scrying, stealth and veiling. Pilots typically use special Zephyr of a more inquisitive bent to help with the data collation and collection. With minor reconfigurations: stealth versus scrying suits can be used for intelligence collection on over flights of enemy airspace or near real-time target data over a wide frontage.
Requires specialized pilots given the mental requirements to run the veils and the Euryale Scrying system and able to process a mass amount of data. This is one of the rarer suits. To where a RP Wing may have one Surveillance Squadron with one Flight's worth of Occultia Pilots.

Polyxo: An Advanced multi-role Suit. It has more capability and modularity, but at a higher unit cost and greater maintenance complexity. They also require greater Pilot skill and power to use effectively. However, for a select high-skill Squadrons they are useful. These are typically assigned as a flexible multi-role squadron for an advanced, but small, strike Carrier. Or as a higher-tier reserve reinforcement multi-role squadron for a full Ritual Plate Wing.

Svalinna : A heavy defensive warding suit thick with extra enchantments and replaceable sections. Operating similar to the Ogun or Indra Aerial Torpedo the Svalinna projects a powerful and large ward. All Ritual Plate Pilots are required to be able to power a defensive ward, however, Svalinna Pilots have to be able to project them much further out. This can work for persistent patrol, reusable, and lightweight fleet screen, or even ground protection. Given the limited time the Pilot can keep such a war shield active.
However, miniaturizing the wards enchantments to something that can fit on a Ritual Plate suit makes this an exceptionally expensive, and relatively bulky suit that has 3 times the fuel cell requirements. Several ward projector components also burn out and need replacement after multiple uses in one mission. Further the Pilot must be especially skilled in wards to operate the suit itself. An RP Wing often has a Ward Squadron with at 1 to 2 flight's worth of Svalinna Pilots with the other RP pilots Harmonia acting in an escort capacity.


Specializations:

A flight 4 RP units will typically have some modular specialization. Typically the Flight Leader will normally have a suit with some extra maneuverability and weaponry to counter enemy air assets.

1 Member of the Flight will have a Gorgon Rig, a crying system (a smaller, less intense, and shorter ranged sibling to the Euryale) to provide extra targeting info, battle-space awareness, and backup comms. This is less difficult to use than a Euryale but does get the most benefit from a Pilot who is skilled in such things.

The two remaining members of the Flight will have extra offensive systems. For a Telephe Flight this means extra evocation capacitors for more Lance strikers. For a Sarpedona this is further capacity for various flame, lightning, and other attacks on ground targets.

The layout of a flight can be modified if required. A more tactical surveillance or patrol oriented Flight may have 2 Gorgon-equipped pilots and 2 with the Flight Leader package. This means that each Flight can be broken up into 2 Pairs where 1 operates the Gorgon Scrying rig and is protected by her wing-woman.

Also with the tradition of a Legionary or Fleet Soldier purchasing their own equipment, there are some who either by Patronage or wealth will supply their own Ritual Plate suit that is at a grade above that of standard Fleet or Legion service.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Full size

Here's the map of the Houses around House BlackSky. True to its name Eastern Province, and Bovitar is on the far eastern side of House BlackSky.
And the Houses have a rather low population density, at least by human standards. A lot of htat is due to terrain and the logistics of having enough grazing land for livestock to feed millions of demons.



And the.... complicated relationships between the Great Houses.

One bit to keep in mind is that this is the... mostly current standard of things, and that the current wars are mostly "brushfire" situations or pauses in major hostilities.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.


Chapter 5: Birthday Blowout


The brush felt good in my hair.

"I'm so proud of you." Sister Clementia sat on my bed.

A nice thing about being injured, at least in relative peacetime, was your convalesce could be in a private room.

"For getting chewed up?" I raised my arm showing the fresh pale-pink skin of my regrown hand. Upside, I would not scar. Downside, I had been so very hungry these last couple days.

And that was despite being given a constant supply of heavy meals and intravenous supplements. My new species' ability to heal was impressive, but that meant that wounds would not get me pulled from the front, not for long.

"Dear, I'd say you chewed the enemy far more than they did," Sister Clementia smiled. She felt comforting, but there was something she was keeping from me.

"I uh.... yeah." In my previous life I had done things. They were all legal under the laws of war. Even if the way to justify those actions involved a careful reading of such treaties, declarations of intent at the right times, and judgment calls on who was and who was not a lawful combatant nor a civilian.

And while my direct role in, what the enemies of the Empire called, the Arene Massacre was one thing, I had helped write the legalistic formulation that allowed it to happen.

My actions south of Narvos continued that streak. My commanders saw me feasting on the flesh of War Mistress Rodswor as a necessary action. To them, it was a footnote in the official report.

I was quiet and just let my- just let Sister Clementia brush my hair.

"How is your recovery going?" she asked in her ever patient, gentle voice.

"Well, there's this," I gestured with my hand and then kicked my legs. I was in a set of dark purple exercise clothes. The loose sweatpants and blousy tunic were a bit warmer than being in a hospital gown. "And I'm sure Senior Prefect Centurion Florentina will want me back dancing with the rest of the Troupe before the week is out."

"That should be helpful."

I eyed her. "Yeah... it's going to be part of my physical therapy. My balance at the moment is not great. It'll be a while before I can wear a suit again. Not that I have a Ritual Plate to pilot."

A melancholy fell over me. I had gotten to speak with the team that had examined the combat site. Well, that had recovered the bodies that had fallen onto the borderlands fields and orchards.

That included one Polydora Mark 5. Looking at the pictures of my mangled suit was one thing. Yesterday when the boffins brought me to the hangar where it and the other recovered artifacts were stored was another.

I had spent nearly a year using that intricate collection of enchantments. It may have been surplus, and it might have been an old trainer and glorified acrobatics demonstrator, but it had kept me alive. At least it was being treated with care and as much of its components, spirits, and other critical parts were being recovered as could be.

The combat reconstruction team was respectful and did not patronize me by being coddling, though they did conceal a bit of diffident awe. It helped that my actions meant they had plenty of hardware to examine.

Two Flights of Satori Ritual Plate and one custom variant had also been recovered, in varying states of damage. That and nine bodies, also in varying states of damage. I did not know what happened to them. I could have claimed them, that was my right, but a very polite Tribune suggested it might be more diplomatic to let the Imperial Legion take care of that.

I cared more about the Ritual Plate than the flesh. It sounded like after the boffins got through tearing the Zioxan hardware down to learn anything new they would have enough parts and spares to make maybe a Flight's worth.

Which would likely be passed along to our Dissimilar Instructor Wing, specifically one of their Aggressor Squadrons. That was a group of pilots trained and equipped with the Ritual Plate of a rival House. They sounded like an excellent training opportunity.

And one I got a small taste of, training with some of the House Andromache cadets and their special, and different, doctrine. But now I had an in.

My tail lazily curled as I thought about that. Maybe I could do that. If I was skilled in using an enemy Houses' equipment and tactics I could be very valuable to teaching other pilots. Too valuable to be put to the front.

It would be a near-ideal posting for me.

Sister Clementia smiled. "And mentally?" she asked, switching to my wings. Most of the burnt feathers had been pulled but they were still a ruffled mess.

"I've got someone to talk to," I assured. It was very enlightened that the Legions had a mental health system that understood Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I suppose it was an inevitability when you threw empathic soldiers into combat. Their term was Trauma Accumulation, but it was a similar phenomenon.

It is a bit annoying that the almost doleful comforting consoler with the twin pairs of curling horns and the chipper Librarian were so happy with my progress.

Yes, I was being honest to them with my feelings about the matter. But anyone who knew "Tauria", the little, nearly eleven year old, demon girl should have thought my subdued reaction to fighting off nine enemy pilots in an unarmed suit was stonewalling.

I mean those were my genuine feelings. After Norden, well... after being pushed in front of that train, I had had too many brushes with death. Too many situations where it was kill or be killed.

Oh sure, they wanted me to open up more, and were worried I was repressing too much, but that was less about the fight and more about my childhood.

Please, these demons might be more sympathetic, but in most of my lives I ended up killing people as a little girl.

It was a bit disquieting how accepting they were. Not of the situation, but of who I was. Part of it was simple consequences of our biology on society. With the dominant species in the House being all female and empathic, and with normal raw recruits being sixteen to eighteen years old there were a lot of pretty young women fighting, killing, and dying.

My actions were still outside of the norm, but less so than they were in the empire of my previous life. Here, I was an oddity on the far end of the bell curve, in that other empire I was statistically unique.

Maybe I was fooling them better than I thought. They could be seeing me as the model eager young cadet.

I did miss flying, and my Zephyr did as well. My feathers could have used a good preening.

I leaned back and let Sister Clementia work.

"Have you talked to your friend VioletBlood?"

"Oh yes, she was part of the debrief. I gave her simple orders, but she performed them exactly as required." I nodded as I stretched my left wing so she could get to my secondary feathers. "She had a good head on her shoulders, taking the mission first instead of unnecessary heroics."

Sister Clementia murmured. "Only then? You two didn't talk in a social situation? It was a very traumatic experience."

"I suppose it was the baroness's first taste of combat, but, as I wrote in my report, she performed well. Other than a bit of idle chatter and minor nervousness, at the start. Once things got serious, she did her job and got the Package out."

The Sister switched wings; there was that sense that there was something she was not telling me. It was odd having someone else obfuscating their emotions. "That's not what I meant, Dear. Did you and her... and your cadet and ballet friends go out to eat? Such celebrations are normal for after a victory. Feasts and the like."

I thought about the fate of the War Mistress. "Not exactly."

"Ah, well, we can go out and have a nice dinner."

"They'll let me off base?" I perked up, my tail swishing.

She beamed at me. "Of course, it is a special day."

"It is?"

Sister Clementia looked embarrassed. "It is your birthday," she admitted.

I blinked. That.... that was true. On the train ride up to Narvos, VioletBlood was plotting to have a big birthday party for us when we reached the next city.

So, I was twelve.

At least I was spending it with the woman who raised me.

++++++

True to her word, getting off base was easy. I put on my uniform and took a moment to inspect myself in the mirror. My blonde hair was pretty tamed, my wings were presentable. My tail swished about merrily.

I had few ill feelings towards the first orphanage I was raised in. Those nuns made do with what they had and no one starved, but some months were lean. Sister Clementia's order had better patronage.

It was nice to no longer be stunted. I was still a very delicate-looking and short girl. But being pretty, female, and lethal was not unusual in this society. On the contrary, it often felt like the norm. Which was a bit of a comfort.

The rank flashes were new. The promotion to centurion was the most welcome part of the awards ceremony yesterday. The least welcome were the hints that more was to come.

No, the most welcome part was that it was done in my hospital room. It was useful to have so many Legates get a favorable view of me, especially one who was a member of the imperial Family.

But I was well aware of the risks the reputation I was cultivating could bring me.

That was why I frowned at the other award I had been conferred as I tied the teardrop-shaped ruby just above my collar. It looked a bit like a drop of blood held protectively by a pair of wings or, more accurately, clasped by gold leaves.

"The Preserver Order," Sister Clementia said with pride.

I gave her a reassuring look. "I didn't set out to get this."

"Few do, and those who do normally die," she said, melancholy and a tinge of fear entering her voice.

Despite that, I nodded. Entry into the Preserver Order, or more properly the Order of the Crown of the Preserver, was mostly posthumous. The award was given to those who risked their lives with conspicuous gallantry to save the lives of civilians or non-combatants.

I couldn't argue with that. Unfortunately, both the duchess and VioletBlood testified that my priority was for them and Luddy to get out to safety. And that my intention was to fight an overwhelming enemy with the goal of buying them time.

There were lesser Preserver awards such as Phalerae disks, armbands, or their hairpin equivalents that covered the same action, just with less suicidal levels of gallantry.

I sighed as I slipped on my boots. By the letter of the regulations, and the spirit of long-standing traditions my actions did qualify for the Preserver Crown. And turning down being entered into that Order would be very unwise, especially since I was the youngest member on record.

At least the youngest member under the current incarnation. There were supposedly a handful who were younger than I but they dated to pre-Invasion times and were retroactively entered when the Order was created.

"At least the award is no longer literally a crown," I muttered. Though technically in the most formal of uniforms that would be required. Something to keep in mind if I had to present myself to the Imperatrix. At least that meant I wouldn't have to wear the crested centurion dress helmet.

"I think you'd look good in a golden-leaved crown with rubies, like a little princess."

After a few steps my legs ached a bit. It was not surprising given my healing and the physical therapy. Going down the stairs of the hospital, Sister Clementia took my hand.

Which was nice for the... balance it gave me.

Going outside was an experience. I had gotten noticed before on the base as a young promising Cadet, but now I was getting salutes and accolades.

I suppose the Preserver Order would have its advantages. It felt a bit awkward, but I gave a prideful smile and, with an imperious sweep of my free arm, cheered them on.

Getting outside of the base was easy. I almost had an honor guard after going through the guard post at the gate. Or at least there were a few Legionaries and pilots going the same direction as us.

I got my stride as we went down a few blocks and came to the edge of the upper section of Bovitar. Clementia unfurled her large, purple and grey wings as her matching red habit and dress rippled in the wind.

Still holding her hand, I spread my wings and we flew from the upper ridge to Victory Plaza in the heart of the city.

It was nice flying. Though flying under my own power was a pale imitation of flying with Ritual Plate. Still, my Zephyr were happy to be in the air again.

I hit the landing, but it was nice to have Clementia there in case I stumbled.

"We're eating in their restaurant?" I asked as she led me towards the Great Eastern Hotel. My stomach grumbled a bit. The hotel did have a really good steak grill on the back next to the bar. Red meat was more appealing to me in this life than previous ones.

"Maybe," she allowed.

I tilted my head. Sister Clementia did not have much in the way of worldly possessions, but she could afford a nice meal once in a while. "I will be getting a bonus with my promotion," I offered.

"You are so sweet." She patted me on the head before we went through the sweeping doors into the lobby.

The staff were oddly obsequious. Well, I did have a reputation. I supposed my story had started to spread.

Though as we got deeper into the hotel, my horns started to get a bit... muffled.

Sister Clementia squeezed my hand. "Trust me."

My tail curled a bit as she led me to one of hotel's ballrooms

A pair of servants in gold and purple livery opened the doors. I could feel the duchess's emotions and care for me.

And then I felt others.

The room was full. There was my cadet instructor: Prefect Centurion Quirinus, the head of the Ballet Troupe: Senior Prefect Centurion DeltaVoid, Baroness VioletBlood, IvyBlade and others from my cadet class and the ballet troupe, and Luddy.

I tilted my head as they screamed happy birthday.

"Um?" I turned to Sister Clementia.

"Do you really think we forgot?" she laughed and pulled me into the ballroom. While it was a literal room for ball dancing complete with polished floors, gilt ceiling and handsome woodwork on the walls, I was happy to be wearing a uniform and not a gown.

The duchess, however, was in a gown. She held a fluted glass and raised it as she strode to me. "Hail, Lady Tauria!"

While the others repeated the accolade she came in to hug me.

My tail went stiff as my arms flailed for a moment. I mean... being in the Order of the Crown of the Preserver did confer an honorary title.

"You did the right thing, I'm so proud of you." Duchess SilverFlight held me tight before letting go. "You're looking well."

"Uh, yes, your Grace," I said in a controlled, even adult, tone, while my tail was kept steady and did not wag.

The duchess shook her head and nodded to Sister Clementia. "Well done with the subterfuge."

"You were the one who kept the surprise once we got into the hotel."

I looked between them. The duchess masked the presence of her and my.... fellow Legionary Fliers... well...

Sniffing the air, I turned to see a bashful-looking Luddy walk over. She bowed her horns to me then deeply bowed at the waist. Next to her a couple servants were pushing a trolley that had a bunch of pastries and buns surrounding a two-tiered dark chocolate cake.

There were twelve purple candles on it.

I blinked. This... was not what I expected.

"I must thank you so much for helping free me," Luddy stated as she blinked and dabbed at her eyes. "You... don't... it was... I..." She steeled herself. "But I'm free now."

I returned the bow and found the wave of gratitude and stress from her and wanted to feel for her, to return the sentiment.

Luddy gave a small smile to me and the duchess put an arm around her shoulder. "Miss HeartWood and others have been a great help."

Baroness VioletBlood slipped over to me. Unlike most of the others, she was not in uniform. She had a frilly lavender dress with white ribbons. Her dark red hair was held back with a few pins that denoted she was promoted to full Optio and bore a small Phalerae. The polished copper disk pinned to her dress like a metallic corsage.

I nodded to her. She had done well and did deserve some recognition.

She gave a matching gesture but bowed a bit more. "I told you you'd have a great birthday party."

I snorted lightly. Looking around, I saw there was a line of other foods, a set of tables, and that various servants had started circling about with glasses. Some seemed to have champagne while others were a bit darker.

"It's cider; soft cider; you teetotaler.," VioletBlood teased.

"I'm twelve," I shot back to her.

Holding her own glass, VioletBlood shrugged. "Fine, fine, wait a couple years then."

I shook my head. In my first life the drinking age was twenty, in my second it was about sixteen. In this life, it was somewhat younger still. Though it was more that drinking without parental permission was the actual prohibition. Crazy demons.

The duchess went back to me and after giving a pleasant chat with VioletBlood, politely pushed her off. Standing to one side behind me, the duchess pointed me back towards the cake.

Sister Clementia went to the other side.

"Do you want to make a wish?" the duchess asked.

I looked at the candles. What I wanted.... what I really wanted? I was not sure I could get it.

Knowing my luck, wishing for a nice rear echelon posting would just make things worse. Wishing for status could be nice, but would end up with all sorts of strings attached. Money and power had the same risks. Baubles could be nice, if I cared about material things.

Well, beyond basic comforts. It was all academic anyway. It had been twelve years with no sign of otherworldly beings interfering in my new life.

Other than cruel demonic House rulers via arrogant War Mistresses. I could not be sure, but the whole incident in Narvos felt like the result of plain old demonic infighting.

Sister Clementia squeezed my shoulder.

"Thinking hard?" the duchess asked.

Shrugging, I blew out the candles.

And there was polite clapping.

"Now don't tell us!" IvyBlade shouted as they started to carve up the cake.

The smell was heavenly.

Before I could get to it Sister Clementia and Duchess SilverFlight both handed me a gilt envelope.

I blinked.

"It's your first gift, if you'll accept it." Sister Clementia

I wondered if it was money or some sort of line of credit at a boutique or something. Holding the thick envelope, my confusion grew; it felt like many pages.

Sliding out a pinky claw, I carefully cut the side of the envelope. There were two nearly identical legal documents.

The only difference was in one the first party was Clementia Lusria of the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady and in the other the first party was Volantes Tribune (Rorarii) Duchess SilverFlight.

In both the second party was Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust. And awaited my signature and seal.

They were adoption papers. Specifically, they were adoptio, the civil version of adoption instead of the biological version. That made things a bit less terrifyingly overwhelming.

"You... you want me as your daughter?"

"We've felt you've been our daughter for years," the duchess said.

"Neither of us wants to replace your birth mother or your sire mother." Sister Clementia took me in a one armed hug.

The duchess leaned in, her voice quiet. "And we know you're very... independent so making you a daughter, biologically-speaking, might not be right."

I frowned at the unspoken "for now".

"But you are old enough to make this choice, and old enough that you don't need mothers," Sister Clementia hugged me a bit closer.

I was old enough to fight and kill and possibly die for the House, so being able to pick my parents seemed like a reasonable allowance.

"The Magnus? And the Countess? Why does my name have those now?" I blinked and was... oh this was....

From her spot talking with the other members of the ballet troupe, Baroness VioletBlood saluted with her glass. I wondered if she would be so pleasant if she knew I had leapfrogged her in status. Her jealous streak was only matched by her competitive one. Wait... I didn't have to accept this.

Sure.

I could snub the woman who raised me and a powerful patron who I had risked my life to rescue and who was willing to risk her political capital and honor on taking me on as a daughter.

"Magnus is the Honor Name bestowed upon you by the Imperatrix. You'll be given a formal presentation by the Legates tomorrow."

"And?"

The duchess smiled. "If you are to be my daughter you will have a title."

I stared. In my past life I had gotten an honorific, becoming Tanya von Degurechaff, for academic excellence as part of my military education.

"If you insist on being a Lady Castilian, I suppose you can talk with my eldest daughter, your new sister, but it holds a lot of responsibility."

"That's, um, not what I meant."

The duchess tittered. "Oh, you already made yourself a Lady by your own efforts, I have to give you something extra."

I exhaled. That it was both of them meant this was not just a political move. A way for the duchess to solidify her claim on me and her reputation of finding and mentoring talented new pilots.

Oh yes, the nunnery's fortunes will be helped if it came out that the newest, youngest Ace Pilot, a Countess no less, was once one of their wards. But.... Sister Clementia was not like that.

I swallowed. My hand trembled as I held it out.

The duchess bowed her horns and placed a gold pen into my fingers. I was guided by a table. It was good that Clementia was there to help give me balance.

I spread out both sets of documents and read through them. As I went, I wondered if there was a way for me to get out of this. BlackSkyvian Nobility had a... reputation, especially in the Imperial Legions.

If anything, young Baroness VioletBlood was a restrained example of their gung-ho exuberance and dedication to combat. As I read I wondered if I even wanted out of this.

Being given piles of honors, awards, and promotions, especially for earned work were beneficial, but they all came with expectations and responsibilities.

A servant came up with a stick of gold and purple wax which was heated by a small flame generated between her fingers.

I did not have a signet, but I did have.... I undid the ribbon that held the ruby and gold leaves of the Preserver Order to my neck.

I closed my eyes for a moment and then signed both documents and then pressed the front of the Order award into the dollops of wax. The impression of leaves and teardrop looked professional enough.

There was a hush as I tied the award back onto my collar.

And then both Sister Clementia and Duchess SilverFlight pulled me into a hug as she did servants cried "Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust daughter of Clementia Lusria of the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady and Volantes Tribune Duchess SilverFlight of the Duchy of Argenia!"

I was lifted off my feet by the embrace by the two taller women, by my... mothers. Adoptive.

I blinked and there might have been a purring rumble as the cheering grew distant, and I just enjoyed their company.

I was lowered back down onto my boots and managed to regain some of my dignity when I was given a glass and saluted the crowd.

My mothers flanking me, I noticed something had been placed in front of me. It was a giant case in purple wrapping paper with a big floppy pink bow on top.

"You didn't think we were just going to adopt you?" the duchess... my duchess smiled.

"I, um, didn't even expect that much," I admitted. A china plate with a slice of cake was put into my hands. I ate some to get a bit of a distraction. Moist, delicious chocolate cake and frosting and shaved chocolate helped.

"Well, it's something you definitely will like, need, and use."

I swallowed. Given the wrapped box was about the dimensions of an upright coffin.

My free hand went off and tore out the wrapping paper and sliced the ribbon. The packaging went away to reveal... a standard grey military crate.

But one I was familiar with. I finished my first slice of cake as Mother Clementia gave me a new slice and my duchess opened the front of the crate.

Inside was a standing Ritual Plate suit locked onto its restraints. Covered in intricate engravings, enchantments, I could feel the dormant power of the suit. It had spots for multi-mission modules but was far above my previous suit in complexity.

"That's a Polyxo Advanced Multi Role." Most of the plates were made of an almost pearlescent white metal with blue accents, and black trim, with golden runes engraved all over.

With the right mission packages, a Polyxo was equal to a dedicated long-range Lance Strike suit like a Telephe, an air superiority fighter like a Harmonia, or a ground attack craft like a Sarpedona.

"It's your Polyxo Advanced Multi Role," my duchess smiled. "Specifically, a Mark 15 with the Gamma Block power systems."

"Oh." That was the most modern production variant. And the Gamma Block used stronger, more robust arcane enchantments to keep mana, power, and flow from the fuel cells from burning-out components, especially in combat conditions.
I stepped around the suit. It was a bit taller than me, due to it being an armored suit, though more to the boots Ritual Plate models seemed invariably cursed with. But the important part was that it was my size. "How?"

"One of my artificer guilds makes RP power systems including the Gamma Block and other concerns make several of the components in the Polyxo. When the manufacturers heard about what you did, well... let us say that I was able to purchase one fresh off the MuArc Amalgamated line instead of being waitlisted."

I blinked. The Household Fleet and the Legions did allow for the personal purchase of kit and equipment. Provided the trooper could afford it, and the equipment met standards such as quality, performance, durability, maintenance, and compatibility in munitions, fuel, and spare parts.

"It's my size." Suits had to be custom fitted. For the most part, they were manufactured in a range of predetermined sizes and the final fitting could be done by Ritualista, but this one seemed to be pre built to my, admittedly delicate, proportions.

"I know your sizes, Daughter," my duchess seemed to revel in that word. "And I may have paid extra to have it fitted out by MuArc's own artificers. They were motivated to help you."

I tilted my head at her. Motivation aside, the Polyxo was by itself, one of the more expensive Ritual Plate, but having it installed with a Gamma Power system and then custom fitting out... all in a matter of days.

"I'm sorry if I was presumptive; I talked with your instructors," she nodded to Prefect Centurions Quirinus and DeltaVoid. "And thought you would make the most of the flexibility of this model. But if you want a Harmonia I could get you one. Or any other Ritual Plate you want."

"No, no, the Polyxo is amazing. I can't wait to put it on..." I may have put my hand out and remarked on how shiny the surface was.

My Zephyr reacted with great enthusiasm flowing through the various enchantments.

The potential in such a piece of hardware was immense, especially with someone of my skills wielding it.

Oh.

That was the worry. My duchess knew what was expected of me. And being a Countess would raise the bar further. I couldn't blame the Legates.

If I were a staff officer and had someone with my capabilities I would want to get the most out of them.

I pulled my hand and smiled. Two big upsides House BlackSky had over the Empire was that House BlackSky had a stronger diplomatic corps and tended to take a longer view of things.

That, hopefully, meant that my commander would decide it was better giving me a few years to season than feeling that they were forced to send me into some meat grinder to try and turn the tide in some big war.

I exhaled. I might have gotten the attention of the higher ups but I could still leverage their accolades into my plan of spending as many years of my twenty year term as possible in training, instructor, and other rear echelon billets.

And then after that, being a respected countess, maybe working in her adoptive mother's research and testing companies, would be a very comfortable life.

"I know your next posting is in flux, but there are few positions in the Legionary Squadrons where a Polyxo would be a detriment," my duchess assured.

I bowed my horns to her. Save for special applications, Flights were typically homogeneous in composition. This simplified command, supply, and maintenance logistics. Most squadrons were homogenous as well, but there were cases, especially with rare models like the Occultia, Svalinna, or Polyxo where a mixed Squadron gave some benefits.

Most Prefect Volantes Centurions would be happy to have one of their squadron's Flights be equipped with Polyxo. That gave them two Flights dedicated to their specialization (air superiority, strike, or ground support) and one multi-role Flight that could perform as well in said specialization or be swapped out into another.

It could enable a Lance Strike Squadron to have some fighter escorts, or give an air superiority squadron some heavier firepower in case of larger enemy targets. Or it could give a ground attack squadron some superior air cover or heavier firepower.

I smiled at the Ritual Plate suit. If I was going to be tossed into the deep end then I might as well have the best equipment possible. And unlike the cursed Type 95, this one did not seem to require brainwashing to use.

Mother Clementia stepped over to me and handed me a small box. "I know it's not as much, but...."

I took the box and looked up at her and shook my head. "No, don't. You've done more for me than..." I exhaled and let a bit of my feelings out.

I was suddenly pulled into her embrace.

My tail swished and I allowed myself to enjoy it.

After the hug she smiled down at me. Relishing the feelings of surprise of my fellow cadets and Troupe members, I opened her gift.

"Oh my," I pulled a silver locket out of the box and looked between it and a set of dark crimson earrings. The gemstones gave a slight shine to the touch.

"Arcane capacitors?" I turned around the two gems. They felt... empty, like they were waiting to be filled. Such devices were a way to store extra mana and energy. It took some time to top them off, but they were a way to give a reserve of extra power.

Normally, they paled in capacity to the alchemical power cells a Ritual Plate used. But they were still a handy way to have that much more power when not in a suit. These however felt like they had very complicated enchantments, very large capacity, and were very old.

"The Mother Superior of the Order may have donated some items from our Reliquary."

"These are relics?"

"About four centuries ago an orphan, Lady Jean BoneMoon, raised by the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady joined the Legions. She won many awards for her heroism and was gifted many items. Many of which were donated to the Sisterhood upon her death.

"It is the policy of our order to loan such items out to those who would make the best use of them. The Sisterhood feels that they do more good for the House being used than simply gathering dust by an altar."

I nodded. It was an honor, and I would have to read more on this Lady BoneMoon, just to check for any Being X or Uriel style meddling. "I am honored to be the current custodian of such relics. And the locket?"

"That's just some mother's love," she smiled and popped it open.

On one side was one of the Saint-style pictures of DarkStar with her crimson hair and pious expression. The other was a picture of me as a very young girl being brushed by Mother Clementia.

I held out the locket and bowed my head to her. Sister Clementia undid the clasp and put the silver chain around my neck before clasping it. Then to my surprise I felt the pinch as she put the earrings in.

I might have winced. I was not one to wear jewelry, and earrings hardly ever, but these were functional. Once she put in the studs, I could feel a steady draining sensation as the capacitors began to fill. It would probably take several days for that to happen, but would be a useful reserve.

I exhaled and looked up at my adoptive mothers. "This is more than I could have ever expected. Thank you so much for the best birthday ever." It was the truth. While my first childhood was not bad, I was rather distant with my first set of parents. And as for my second life.... well not all my birthdays were on the front. But enough were.

"I hope you don't think it's over," VioletBlood said as she came up to me with her own giant box.

"Baroness-" I started.

"Countess," she interrupted with a smirk as her tail swished.

"You didn't have to," I said.

"I know," she was amused, a bit jealous, and... there was something else. "Are you going to commission a crown? For your dress uniform."

I sighed and opened the giant gift. It turned out to be multiple stacked boxes with some hanging clothes and folded fripperies. VioletBlood grew more amused the longer it took me to sift through the items.

"This is a gown."

VioletBlood shook her head. "It's the least I could do. And you will need it."

"I was thinking of wearing my dress uniform to formal events," I admitted.

Tail flicking, VioletBlood looked to my duchess imploringly.

She stepped to me and ran a hand through my hair. "Daughter, there will be some responsibilities and duties you will have, and expectations as a noblewoman, but I will do my best to help you with them."

I gave a glassy smile and nodded. If I could swallow my pride and do ballet I could do this. The networking abilities alone of being a darling new daughter to my duchess could open many doors.

"It would be easier if I could..." my duchess shook her head. "We'll make sure you're healthy and happy."

"I'm fine, really," I insisted.

VioletBlood gave me a look

I gave her a sharp smile and idly tapped the gem at my neck.

She rolled her eyes.

"How about this one?" IvyBlade said as she pushed up between us with her own gift.

Inside was a recipe book. In Japanese. I looked up at her confused.

"Did I pick right?" the older pilot tilted her head. "I know you like Paymonish food and you like that human-style food from Luddy's maid cafe."

"Um.. yeah." I really was not much of a cook myself. And the book was a rather generic Japanese cookery book but the gesture was very heartfelt.

"I don't know if you'll be able to read it, but they're plenty of pictures!" IvyBlade said.

"How did you even get this?"

IvyBlade blushed. "I was talking to someone from the Capital yesterday and she pointed me out to a used book store that deals with imports down on the south side of Bovitar."

I absently nodded. "I'll have to get it translated, but thank you!" I might have forced the cheer. It was a very nice book, and I made no secret of liking Japanese food, especially desserts and teas. But the worry that someone might know about my past lives was... disquieting.

Her tail swishing, IvyBlade nodded.

Next came Prefect Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus, the instructor for my cadet group and Senior Prefect Centurion Florentina DeltaVoid commander of the Ballet Troupe. They were standing a bit close to each other and both passed me over a present.

"Another Magnus. I suppose there are worse Cognomen to have as honor names," Quirinus said.

"Like Veritas?" DeltaVoid offered with a swish of her tai.

"Humanitas seems more her speed," Quirinus replied.

"Maybe Narcissus then, for both of you," DeltaVoid laughed.

"Very funny," I sighed and opened the package. It was another book, this one was a slim volume with thick covers emblazoned with warnings and was more like a hefty portfolio or a succinct dissertation. There were also security warnings on the tied edges.

"Tactical Command and Control: Aerial Attack Study on the Applications of Energy-Maneuverability Theory," I read a sinking feeling in my stomach. Energy-Maneuverability was one of the theories Quirinus taught us.

It involved calculating performance based on taking the properties of a Ritual Plate, or aircraft, such as weight, thrust, drag, speed, and other factors and building a quantitative performance model. This allowed for comparisons and trade offs to be studied.

And was the root of various Aerial Attack Studies that determined the types of maneuvers and positioning that were useful to decide how, with a given set of assets, one could fight an enemy, with their given set of assets.

Much of our training was based on this. Which I found reassuring as it was a nice, organized, and logical set of tools. Part of me was suspicious as to where House BlackSky had got the underlying theory. It sounded very familiar, and might have been one of the many human, Earth, things that the various demon Houses had glommed onto.

The key thing, something that our enemies like Ziox failed to truly understand was that Energy-Maneuverability Theory was just that, a set of tools to reach a conclusion depending on the tactical situation. Much of their training treated it as a way to get a pre-generated set of instructions for how to fight various enemies.

That was not an invalid use of the methodology, but it was only a surface one. The true usage involved being able to collect data on the enemy, calculate the situation, create a framework for action and then execute it. And then the whole tradeoffs on an imperfect plan done quickly and updated rapidly versus a more perfected but delayed plan.

This however....

My duchess leaned in. "Are you going to tutor her? She just made Centurion."

And there it was. Yes, much of my cadet training had involved being a Flight Leader or even being in charge of a squadron, but a book like this was specifically for new Primus Volantes Centurions just starting out with a Flight of her own, but with an eye to Prefect rank and full squadron command.

Despite my worries from past experience, I ran a hand covetously over the book. Most of the concepts to Flight command of Ritual Plate were open, or open enough that a cadet could get them.

But learning privy data from experienced instructors...

"Is this to be my new assignment?" Formally, I was no longer a Cadet Optio, so I would need a new billet.

"Volantes Legate Aucto thinks you could use a bit of preparation before your next assignment."

I put on a smile and thought of a response. Fortunately, VioletBlood gave a bit of a jealous sigh.

"We did not forget your heroism, Optio Baroness VioletBlood," Quirinus gave a toothy smile. "We decided that while Volantes Centurion, ah yes, Countess DiamondDust will assume command of your Cadet squadron for the time being, you will be her second."

"That should help you both gain some experience, while also doing your ballet duties," DeltaVoid added.

"Oh," I exhaled. "We're going to have a lot of squadron level training exercises aren't we?" I asked, putting up some exuberance. It was looking like it would be impossible for me to get a nice boring posting. At least in the medium term.

If I could prove myself, then long-term an instructor role could suit me well. Which meant I had to excel at leading and training the cadet squadron to prove I could teach, and then having combat postings to prove my experience and capabilities were worthy of being passed on.

"We do not want you to get a swollen-head thinking you could take a whole 'spec ops' squadron and Ace of Aces by yourself."

"It was two flights, one of which was green, and of the other the War Mistress's desire to keep me alive was a great advantage. I would not call them a special forces squadron," I stated.

"You're being too humble," Mother Clementia assured me.

My duchess waved that aside. "Still, this will be great training, can she take this home to read or does it have to stay on base?" she asked, pointing to the Centurions' gift to me.

"We should really bring it back after the party," DeltaVoid admitted.

"Now, if you want to train against a real elite." Quirinus gave her smirk. "I know a bunch of Household Fleet Pilots want to test your mettle."

"Not to mention our Andromachin allies would also like to learn from someone who drew blood against Ziox," DeltaVoid added. "They might even want to bring some of their Lantian Squadrons down from their lunar homeland."

Knowing I had to succeed, I saluted smartly. "I'll be sure to do my best and perform beyond your expectations!"

+++


Wings spreading to either side of my chair, I wanted to slouch down and put my head on the table. Though that would ruin the paperwork I was filling out. My tail gave little twitches as I remembered the previous night in half-awake snippets.

True to Quirinus' promise, the last couple weeks had been... busy.

It was exhilarating to study squadron-level tactics in detail and, on the fly, make the calculations on how to maneuver my forces to the best position.

And I was certain that the other cadets were getting very useful training out of it all.

Still a full night's sleep was a rare luxury, even getting off base for morning coffee was a treat. I took comfort that there was little in the way of live-fire exercises. Though doing artillery spotting and fire support runs, all before suddenly being jumped by two Squadrons of Fleet Harmonia was not fun.

The real joy was being able to put my Polyxo through its paces. Though I had to be careful when on a mission to keep my camouflage system enabled and to only maneuver beyond the capabilities of a Polydora when absolutely required.

Even with those limits, my new Ritual Plate was a powerful, balanced instrument of precision arcane engineering. Despite all that, it was surprisingly robust. Early marks of Polyxo did have a reputation as hangar queens, but that was largely mitigated as the design matured. Which I suppose shows if enough funding is thrown at an evolutionary project with specific performance goals then progress can be made.

The training had been intense. Especially after that one training mission against Andromachin fliers when they realized which suit was mine and proceeded to, in a very methodical and self-sacrificing way, specifically target me.

"Rough debriefing, Countess?" VioletBlood asked as she sat down across from me.

I glared at her. At least until she passed over one of the two mugs and saucers she had taken from the cafe's counter. She carried a folded broadsheet under one arm.

I sipped the coffee. "It was... long. Not as bad as that training scenario."

"The one where a whole Andromachin squadron died to kill you?"

I nodded.

"The rest of us got the mission objective," she said with pride.

Which I had to give her. VioletBlood was a fair second in command and adjunct. Not the best I ever had. But it was not like Visha or Weiss were available. Though my tail did swish at the idea of Johan Weiss wearing Ritual Plate.

I sipped more coffee. I could have gotten a stronger stimulant in it, but... the Legion frowned on recreational stimulants above a certain potency. Which was perfectly logical as the military stimulants were saved for when they were most needed.

"And that's the argument after that debriefing. Both sides had differing priorities on their objectives. It's hardly rare but was a good case of showing that in a fight you and the enemy could both win or lose."

"Would killing you really be worth a..." VioletBlood paused. "It was a Fast Attack Craft that we were tasked with sinking that mission, right? It sort of blends together."

I nodded. "It depends. A skilled officer has value. Is that comparable to a small naval vessel? Depends on how much each side has of each in the battle. Though my argument was the cost. A full squadron to get rid of one person? That's a squadron that you can't have doing other things."

While I was.... a bit ahead of the curve; my superiors were familiar with prodigy pilots and had taken it upon themselves to show me that I was still mortal. Which, while I appreciated the gesture from an institutional level, was wearying.

Of course, I could not just tell them that I had no intention to act as if I were some fresh young pilot, certain of her own skill and immortality. They would ask where I had gotten such perspective and experience.

VioletBlood nodded.

"And you did command pretty well in my absence," I allowed. Praising subordinates when they did well was key to leadership.

She gave a smile and swished her tail.

Unfolding the broadsheet, she started reading the dense columns of newsprint.

I went back to my own paperwork. As part of my training I was now doing the evaluations of the cadet pilots under my command. It was pure coincidence that training me allowed Quirinus to offload more of her most tedious tasks onto me.

After going to a new page, VioletBlood started to giggle.

I glared at her.

She slowly lowered the paper. "Oh sorry, but the photo of you in this article is adorable."

"What?"

"How don't you know?" she passed the large paper over. "There's an interview with you in it."

Scanning the newsprint, I groaned. "The interview I did was for the Legionary Letters." That was the in-house newspaper for the Imperial Legions.

"Yes, that is the byline; it seems that it was picked up for syndication."

I kept my tail straight. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Really? Because Ivy, Shara, and Jade said they saw a newsreel about you before the main feature at a cinema they want to. What those girls see in those things...." VioletBlood shook her head.

"Movies aren't that bad." I shrugged, reading the article. It seemed to be a straight copy of the initial piece. That much was good. Though the glorifying tone was one thing for the consumption of the troops, it was another for the public.

"Yes, you would say that."

I looked up to glare at her.

"I mean, you are very technically minded, and you get enough of the stage by being in ballet," VioletBlood nervously explained.

I let that pass. Live theater was very popular and still maintained a lead over cinema. A large part was that cinema had no direct, emotional emissions. While some films could record emotional states, it was more complicated when doing it with several people over a long period of time and then broadcast it into an auditorium.

Having a vacation picture of a brood happy at the beach was one thing, and a bit pricey. Having a full sense recording of an opera? That was still a ways away. It was a bit like the early silent film days in my previous lives.

Cinema was seen as something of an inferior novelty, but it was a cheap way to propagate entertainment. And was seen in an unfavorable light relative to established entertainments such as sport, books, gaming, or theatre. Spectator sport, for example, was still big but for many here the idea of watching a recording was a bit alien. Though it was useful for archival and evaluatory purposes.

Personally, I was confident the entertainment guilds would figure it out. There was a strong fiscal incentive to get proper recording and distribution technology. Not only could you perform a play once before a camera and repeat it as many times as your prints held out, you could also edit the footage to have the best takes, and add in post production effects of all kinds.

And much like how the silent movies were overtaken by talkies and then color production, I was confident that eventually "empathys" would become practical and popular. It was something I could encourage my duchess to invest in.

"Diamond? Countess?" VioletBlood waved a hand.

"Oh, sorry." I sipped my coffee. "Yes, I also sat down for some of the newsreels. I think they even took some flying footage of me. Thankfully, I had to go to a mission planning session before things got out of hand.

"It couldn't be that bad."

I gave her a level look. "After they took a moment to consider the ballet troupe, they wanted to commission a piece where I reenacted the fight."

"As ballet?"

This time my glare was not directed at her, but she was in the way.

VioletBlood gave an apologetic smile. "You would look adorable, and it wouldn't be the first time something that violent was immortalized that way. It would really be a great way to solidify you in high society from multiple angles."

I now outranked VioletBlood, both in the Legions and in society. I wondered if she was now the social climber? "I suppose you are more aware of the intricacies of such things."

Violet Blood's tail swished. "You don't need to play the bumpkin. I know your mother has been giving you lessons."

"Mostly flight lessons," I assured.

She laughed. "Right, and you've got a few years before you have to make such decisions."

"That is the hope," I agreed, wondering why she was now talking about combat postings.

The slits to her eyes widened. "Really? You are making plans."

"Of course, Mother did spend a lot helping get me to this position and I have to think about her reputation and legacy."

"That's good to hear, Diamond. I honestly expected you to be oblivious to the whole marriage issue."

I blinked.

"It's very prudent that you're planning already. With your mother, your combat record, and honors, you show great potential. That is one level of potential for suitors. Now add in more years to gain experience and you can pursue a very useful alliance from a very strong position."

I slowly, very carefully folded the paper. "I'm too young."

"Exactly. I mean, obviously, any arranged betrothal would have to wait, but you're right that your best bet is to wait longer until you have as powerful a hand as possible." She sipped her tea. "But there is a limit, I mean you get into your thirties before getting married and some may wonder. But a way around that is to declare you are waiting until your first term expires to have children. Have them with your mate, and then wait until they're... mostly of age before going back in."

I wanted to pinch my nose, instead I shook my head. I had not thought.... much about what I would do after my first term. Other than enjoying the comforts being a noble of some renown would give me. "I will be thirty-one when I get out."

"Perfect!" she said, swishing her tail.

I carefully sipped my drink. "Optio Baroness, I note a degree of exuberance on your part."

"I am concerned for your future and development. Us orphaned noble prodigies do need to stick together."

"I also note you're a year and a half older than me." I took a meaningful sip.
VioletBlood shrugged. "In five years our age difference won't mean much, and in ten no one will notice. Besides, if we get an arranged marriage, it won't be until we're older anyway. As you pointed out, we'd be thirty-one and thirty-three when our first terms end."

The cup almost slipped from my fingers. "What?"

"I'm not saying anything yet; it is presumptuous." She assured me by waving a hand. "But we do have some complementary traits and our families could support each other."

I shook my head. You kill the enemy when unarmed and outnumbered nine to one, get honors and adopted into a noble family and the suitors start popping up. "The timing is coincidental."

"No it isn't," she laughed. "The propaganda is nice and does prove your skills but-"

Hand up, I cut her off. "Baroness, I appreciate your concern for me, and you warning me about these social obligations that lay in my future. However, in the near term I want to focus on my training. I expect an active posting sooner rather than later."

In the full abstract, if I took my own personal views out of the equation, then yes someone like the Countess DiamondDust, youngest daughter of Duchess SilverFlight, could make a good pairing with Baroness VioletBlood, especially after a decade for both of us to season and gain more skill and honors. And to grow up.

That last part was important.

VioletBlood's eyes narrowed fractionally as her tail stilled.

But her implicit point was correct that I might gain yet more status and thus have the baroness further beneath me. Which could change the calculus. I could see why she was insecure and, blatantly, positioning herself so early.

"Understandable, I can see the Legates placing you in an environment to get more combat experience especially as part of a squadron."

I tapped my chin. She was a capable subordinate, perhaps I could direct that. "Violet, while I cannot make any promise with respect to such long term things. I would like to offer what help I can to encourage my mother Duchess and our family to give you and your family mutual assistance."

VioletBlood tilted her head. "Oh?"

"Nothing like arranged marriages. We agree it is too early for that, but such things as postings and assignments. I might find a billet that would suit you."

"Oh, Diamond, that would be wonderful! I'll make sure I'll be the best wingwoman you've ever had."

I picked my coffee back up and smiled. "I can't make any promises with where we get assigned, but I do agree that you have been very capable in that role."

She gave a thin smile and sipped her own tea.

I would have worried about any subtext on her part, but we had both agreed that such arranged marriage and other things were far too early. I did wonder if joining Mother Clementia's order would be a good option. The Sisters did have to take a vow of chastity.

And my duchess could hardly be angry at me following in my other mother's footsteps.

The vow of poverty would be irksome, but I could direct monies from my noble family to support the nunnery. Of course, being a nun was not exactly what I wanted out of life, let alone having to deal with other orphans, but there were worse jobs to have.

VioletBlood smirked. "Thinking about the propaganda again?"

"More about my mother's, other mother's, nunnery. And, um, how the others at the orphanage will react to it."

VioletBlood shook her head. "My you really are the pious ideal of military virtues."

"I'm not that pious."

"You're wearing holy relics, you have a locket of DarkStar on you right now, you joined the Legions after the Feast of DarkStar, and one of your mothers is a nun."

I frowned. That put my potential future thoughts of joining the nunnery in a new light. Good thing VioletBlood did not know about that. "I never looked at it that way," I allowed.

VioletBlood chuckled. "Those with true faith rarely do. Still, it will help recruitment. You're nearly perfect for recruitment posters."

"Except for the whole thing I did at the end of the battle and being so young,"

"I would be inclined to disagree; the War Mistress' body was forfeit when you defeated her and your age can be an advantage."

"In recruiting? I needed special permission to get in."

"It shows that such special permissions are worth giving out," VioletBlood countered. "But I see your point, I was thinking of a different propaganda value your age brings."

"Such as?"

"To other Houses, both our allies and our rivals."

"Ah, yes, the performance of someone with my age would be a good demonstration of our capabilities."

"Just good? An unarmed Ritual Plate Cadet, just before her twelfth birthday, took out a spec op squadron of Ziox fliers and one of their War Mistress trainers."

"That's not an accurate description of what happened."

"Propaganda," VioletBlood slowly enunciated. "You know it's close enough, Diamond, and you can figure out the implications. You've got a better sense of realpolitik than I do."

"Fine." I drank some coffee. "Yes, I can see the two ways it can be read. Most of our allies are smaller Great Houses. Thus, the narrative of one of our cadets killing the Ziox elite when she was outnumbered is reassuring. More or less saying: isn't it a good thing that you have an ally like us to give you hardware and training, so your own forces can fight like ours."

VioletBlood smirked. "Exactly, it reassures our allies that the BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate, training, and doctrine are still very effective. Which encourages them to continue to purchase from our arms contractors and that the defensive umbrella we offer is still strong."

"And it also serves as a warning to our enemies." I gave a vicious smile. "You think your second hand suits, and your third-hand training is enough? You think your elites can match our rank and file? You are dabblers. You cannot have just a few RP Air groups and expect to have a force that can stand up to us. You will need overwhelming, overwhelming numbers to defeat us and we outnumber you."

VioletBlood raised her cup in a mock salute. "You've got a talent for rhetoric and demagogue."

"I have experience. You need a certain attitude to train soldiers."

After a moment's realization, I winced at the slip up.

VioletBlood gave a demure laugh. "Yes, you have scared your former fellow cadets, much to the improvement in their performance," she admitted.

"That is the point of training. The Imperatrix has spent a lot on us, and every Cadet I, we, and the Centurion instructors, that we make sure survives that much longer on the front brings hope to recouping those costs."

"Especially as most of them will end up piloting Sarpedona." VioletBlood absently chewed on her spoon.

I ignored that nervous, and somewhat immature, action on her part. "Cadets tend to be fast tracked to Flight command of Sarpedona or put into a multi-role squadron, so yes."

"But what I mean is they'll be doing ground support, so the longer they survive the more Legionary hoof-sloggers on the ground they can help."

"Yes, that is our doctrine for air support." I gave a wry grin. "We'll make a proper Legionary out of you yet."

VioletBlood huffed and put down her spoon. "Are you hungry? I could go for some cake."

"That would be acceptable."

The baroness laughed. "Yes we all know you like cake, I'll get two slices of chocolate." She got up and went to the counter in the back of the cafe.

It was nice to have a capable second and aide again.

+++
Amber Island was beautiful. The largest island in the Atropia Sea; it was warmed by air currents and got a good amount of rain. At about the same latitude as far away Silvana, it was part of Islands Province, the westernmost province of House BlackSky.

My parents had moved here when our home, an island to the north between minor House Megera and the constellation of outlying islands held by House Elena was annexed.

My mothers did not want to live under those stiff, mask-wearing, conformists and were part of a refugee flotilla that escaped.

House Elena, ever pragmatic, only wanted my parent's island for the natural harbor it offered and how it gave them a better basing posture to support the southeast flank of their holdings in the Northern Atropia sea.

My birth mother wanted to go onto House Alecto and start a business there. She was worried about House BlackSky's reputation. Understandable as while we were officially part of House Megera, we were more of a buffer island between the two titanic Great Houses of BlackSky and Elena.

That all changed when it was found that I had arcane potential and could call upon air spirits.

Both House Alecto and House BlackSky used Ritual Plate and there were sign-on bonuses offered by both. Ultimately, I felt that my mothers and my sisters had a solid life in Amber Island and, to be blunt, House BlackSky offered a larger bonus and a more tangible offer.

Still my birth mother had a condition. She would allow this, but only if I entered the Legions. I tried to tell her that the Legionary Fliers could die just as often over the ocean if their ship was shot down, but she thought being a Fleet Pilot would be too risky with the odds of me dying alone over endless water.

I did not have the heart to tell her that, based on past experience, there were just as many ways to die alone flying over the ground.

Still, I got to fly and got my family a measure of extra protection and financial security.

While beautiful, Amber Island was strategically positioned to give House BlackSky, especially with House Alecto's help, the ability to straddle a line that divided the Atropia Sea into northern and southern halves. It also served as a "bridge" between House Alecto's Home Island and the continent of Diyu.

I had progressed though my initial training, some of which was on the mainland, but most was right in the massive fleet facilities of Opalescence Bay.

Despite my mother's concerns, I was still trained just as often by Fleet officers as I was by Legionary ones and would go on patrols over water.

I was assigned to the 25th Legion as one of the Headquarters' Multi-role Squadrons.

I had just gotten out of my Polydora after the morning's training exercise and was rubbing my arms as I went to the mess hall and got some cabbage stew, ground salt pork, a small loaf of wheat bread, and some fish soup.

"Centurion Shadow," my Flight commander sat down across from me. With long black hair and copper-colored skin and matching wings and little horns, she just had the soup and a loaf. Her uncloven hooves were chased in copper. Dark grey eyes looked up and down at me and my food.

"Primus Centurion AmberSmite," I quickly bowed my head to her.

"Well, you are still a growing girl," AmberSmite admitted with an almost maternal pride.

I looked down at my chest. It was a bit of a curse. But, this time, living as a demoness; it was hardly unusual, and in a way it was nice to be almost... plain, at least by succubus standards.

Being a brunette was almost exotic given the vast possibilities of hair color but it still managed to blend into the background. Sure, I was still lovely, if a bit leaner in the cheek and longer in limb, and there were other changes.

But I did not stick out among my Squadron, at least not physically. I was young and new but not unduly so. There were plenty of cadets and others with exemptions younger than I was.

"You did good today," AmberSmite assured.. "I know you don't have as much experience subbing in for a strike role, but you gave the rest of us good target telemetry. I'd say you're a natural with the Gorgon Rig. You even managed to work through part of your helmet display failing mid-mission."

"Thank you, Primus, I'm trying my best."

Okay, skill-wise I did stand out, but I had an advantage with regard to combat flying. I was far more experienced than my age would imply.

I started eating. It was nice to have plenty of food. I was not sure what kind of picky eaters complained about the quality of the Legionary mess. I was also a bit curious as to what sort of magical kitchen staff the Fleet had.

Rumor was their galleys were simply divine.

To date, I had spent limited time on board troopships so I had not gotten the chance to truly savor the supposed Fleet kitchens.

"Hi Vicky!" the other two pilots in our flight said as they came up to us. Ashley Suthos was a short woman about my age with white hair shaved down to a peach-fuzz, save for her bangs. It contrasted greatly with her spiraling horns. Her plate was nearly as full as mine. She buzzed with a chipper positive energy and was happiest when using her suit to strafe ground targets.

"Did you get that helmet issue fixed?" Antonia asked as she sat down. She was closer to AmberSmite in age. She had a reasonably full plate though it was a bit higher in greens than meat. She was odd like that. She was also relatively emotionally remote which was somewhat familiar to me.

In one corner of her tray was a folded up broadsheet.

"Urentia, my head Ritualista, is looking into it," I said, spooning some of the cabbage. There was cumin, caraway, garum, and a hint of honey. Rather good and filling for something that was made in a big vat. There were sensations of amusement from my Flight-mates as they felt my satisfaction with the meal.

"Anything good?" AmberSmite asked.

Antonia paged through the issue of Legionary Letters "Ziox being spoiled crybabies. Trosier showing off their shiny Armada. Elena acting as if they're the grand peacemakers. Luxon shedding crocodile tears about how they deplore the destabilization of minor House Vualia and wish to help."

"Just look at how much they helped themselves to the northern third of House Vualia," Suthos sarcastically said, her tail swishing.

"Their occupation isn't going well, not with Alecto providing help to whoever can pay," Antonia flipped to a new page. "Well this is cheerful, there's more about that adorable little Ace out in Eastern Province."

"Who?' I asked, giving genuine curiosity.

"Victorious, you didn't hear?" Antonia asked. "There was a newsreel about her."

"I don't really like cinema," I admitted.

Suthos gave me a chipper reassurance. She was especially empathic and found cinema to be a chore.

"Well, then this is a treat," she handed me the paper and I had to juggle it until I cleared some space in front of me.

"A cadet, in ballet equipment of all things, only armed with her mother's sword, found herself up against two flights of Ziox Satori Ritual plate led by War Mistress Rodswor," Antonia explained while I tried to read.

The first thing I saw were the names in the headline. It could be a coincidence but... no....

"You won't believe what she did," Suthos gushed.

Then I saw the picture in the article.

I saw her.

"She killed them all," I stated surprised by the nostalgic smile creasing my face.

"Reading ahead?" Antonia asked.

"Uh yeah..." Then I did read the whole thing. I was surprised and amused by the young Countess' actions, but not for the reason my Flight-mates thought.

"Shame she's on the other side of the House, it would be neat to meet her," AmberSmite said.

"I even heard she has submitted letters to the Journal on Air Combat," Anotia gushed.

I nodded enthusiastically and pondered how much it would cost to go over to Bovitar when I next got leave. It would be a challenge as Eastern Province was about three thousand miles, roughly due east, from here.

I wondered if there was some way I could finagle a transfer

The Major, well Colonel at the end, was always better at those things than I was. But this couldn't be a coincidence. If she had somehow been reborn to this world then I had to meet her.

We were both pilots for a reason. And I knew my place was at her side.


End chapter 5

Yeah this is more of a chapter of people telling Tanya how much she means to them and heaping her with praise and honors. I'm sure there will be no negative consequences from these high profile awards and raised expectations.

And as for the last scene. Well.... Uriel did hint about this way back in the prologue.

And thanks to Ellf for coming up with the name Victorious Shadow. And thanks to Kevin Hammel for going over the chapter as well!

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 6: See the World

Some Minor Houses are powers in their own right. They have coherent economies and militaries with institutions and organization that allows them to secure their territory and borders. While they might be too small to fight off a determined invasion from even House Andromache they could stand on their own from peer threats.

Other Minor Houses were basically whatever warlord or brood queen had the biggest claim over an area and was little more than a name on a map to cover up a zone full of squabbling tribes, raiders, and brigands.

House Vualia used to be the former and was trending to the latter. To the southeast of the Diyu continent, they were across the strait of Ambria from House Luxon which was an ominous neighbor to have separated by roughly seven hundred miles of sea.

Still they traded with Luxon, though they preferred to deal with House Alecto who owned Meropis Island due south of Cape Manu, which had been Luxon's southernmost point.

Before Luxon invaded House Vualia.

First, Luxon took the island of Drumian in the middle of the strait, used it as a staging area, and then made landfall on the northern tip of House Vualia.

From the forward observation station on the HFV Garuda I could just about see the border that separated House Vualia from the Luxon occupation zone.

The observation deck was just above the embarkation deck, itself the lowest deck. It was at the bow of the airship positioned between the twin side-by-side lifting structures. A Phoenician class Long Range Insertion vessel, the Garuda was about 840 feet long and looked roughly like two a hundred and forty foot diameter zeppelins stuck next to each other.

Functionally, that was what it was. The Phoenician class was built using a Virtus Medium Hull. And the Virtus shared many of the same lift bags, structural frames, maneuvering fins, propulsion pods and other structures as the Lua Light Hull.


The Lua Light was a mono-hull so it looked more like the traditional image of a rigid airship. Like the zeppelins of my previous life. Where classes built around the Virtus looked like two Luas. Again, structurally, there was some validity to that.

It also served that way in net lift capacity. Though the Virtus had more interior space given the way it was constructed.

That was handy as this airship was crammed with two Centuries of Legionaries plus their heavy equipment, such as it was, four Umbra Medium transports, two Ritual Plate Squadrons, Ritualista, maintainers, and assorted ships crew.

I say crammed, but in fairness, unless you were on something tiny like a Venture Scout or a Kolibri patrol, most airships had a fair bit of crew volume. It was mass that was the limiting factor.

I sipped my coffee. This observation post was above the Ritual Plate launchers mounted in the bow of the airship. Officially, it was to act as a way to check on arrival and approach positions. It was also useful for when the airship landed or went to anchorage, or docked with another vessel.

There was another post in the stern of the airship, one mounted below the embarkation deck in the keel, and another on the upper dorsal surface.

"There you are, Diamond," Centurion Baroness VioletBlood said as she entered the compartment.


"Just enjoying the view." I quietly nodded to the fleet officer who had a watch post.

VioletBlood stepped up to the guardrail in front of the transparent panes. There were shutters that would slide down behind them, but they were more to keep shards from blowing into the compartment. Armor was deadweight, until you needed it. Thus House BlackSky invested in far lighter defensive systems for their air fleet.

I had to admit the professionalism of the Household Fleet was reassuring. Especially since I had to trust them to get us out to this potential combat zone and then keep us alive while we waited to see if things went sideways.


Said professionalism started with having to maintain a giant fleet and every advantage of scale was taken. There was a degree of modularity, standardization and upgradeability that reminded me of Ritual Plate design methodology and logistics, but on a far, far grander size.

This streamlining of manufacturability by reusing the same hull designs, for having classes that did many roles using the same hulls, and reusing components and even major frame assemblies was used throughout the Household Fleet.

The powerful, but relatively fast, Fides Fleet Hulls and the ponderous, but titanic, Sancus Heavy Hulls also used many of the same components. This time with cyclopean nearly two hundred foot diameter assemblies. The Fides was a two hull design basically like an enlarged Virtus with thrice the lifting capacity.

Where the Sancus was a tri-hull design that was two times larger than even a Fides. The Sancus was so large that half a dozen of them could deliver an entire Infantry Legion: two Typhoon Troopships each with four Cohorts and a troop of armor, two Stellian LRI to carry landing craft, the remaining cohorts, and the rest of the armor, and two Bacchus Fleet cargo for additional supplies. Each Bacchus could carry over nine hundred tons of supplies and over a dozen medium VTOLs to deliver them.

A Nova Fleet Carrier was also required to transport the bulk of said Legion's Ritual Plate compliment. That Legion Lading Flotilla would need a lot of escort craft. At a minimum an, oh so creatively named, Landing Defense Flotilla

But it was an impressive show of force.

"I could not comprehend the exotic locales I would be sent to if I took your offer or patronage, countess," VioletBlood dryly remarked as she looked over at the war-torn landscape below us. At this height, it was rather pretty, nowhere near as bad as the Rhine Front.

Not so impressive was this little Task Force/ We were a mix of a Double Century LRI Singularium and a Damocles-Destroyer Singularium. That came to a total of four Venture Scouts, three Opis Cargo airships, a Damocles Light Carrier, a Mace Destroyer, and the ship I was standing on the HFV Garuda .

Which was also the largest vessel in the formation.

In abstract, it was not a bad little force. Each Venture could act as a persistent scout. The tiny airships had a total complement of fifty-five but could act as a mother ship for six Ritual Plate pilots. The Opis each had an RP squadron but that was mostly for their own defense though could be used in a pinch. More importantly was that each had over fifty tons of supplies stored on them. Functionally, they could double the endurance of this Task force. Or act in a relay to keep us on station for yet another dull month of negotiations.

"If you want better accommodation as your flight commander I will happily forward your request for transfer, and I will personally add my own commentary." My tone was mild, but I let my tail flick and curl.

"No thank you, Prefect Centurion DiamondDust. The fleet food is agreeing with me," VioletBlood hastily said.

I smirked.

Fleet Logistics was ruthless. Airship fuel was less of an issue as their power systems were very high-energy dense and only needed refueling on the long time scales. Unfortunately, fuel cells for Ritual Plate, VTOLs, and such, food, water, munitions, parts, and everything else all added up.

There were mitigations such as water recycling and local harvesting, or that most of the fuel cells could be recharged by the airship's power systems but weight was still everything. In theory, we did not even need the trio of cargo ships as each airship's onboard supplies would be sufficient.

For a whole month.

That said, the galleys on the Household Fleet ships were quite good. They certainly beat field kitchens. Though I did think they put a bit too much salt in their coffee, but it helped cover up the burnt taste. At least it had plenty of caffeine.

"Do you think the negotiations will get anywhere?" VioletBlood asked.

Luxon's invasion was decades past and had slowly grown since.

While some great Houses decried House Luxon's actions such as BlackSky and RedStorm. Most thought it was hypocritical for us "bellicose" BlackSkyvians, and our RedStorm lackeys, who spend so much building a force capable of invading anywhere at any time, to complain.

House Andromache, the smallest Great House, and one especially concerned about an invasion from a larger House was in a delicate position, as keeping good relations with Luxon was a key part of their survival strategy.

Even House Elena, the largest Diyu Great House, only gave platitudes. While Elena kept a placid stance on the diplomatic stage and played the peacemaker, especially to contrast with the purportedly aggressive posture of House BlackSky, they had their own expansion of gobbling up islands in the northern part of the Antropia Sea.

And even they, the largest House, wanted to stay on House Luxon's good side. House Luxon was the third largest and a strong ally of Elena. Thus Luxon provided Elena with a block that had more population, economic, and military power than House BlackSky and our allies.

While also helping them in BlackSky's land borders to the north and east.

"Do you think Luxon will give up the years and treasure and lives they spent securing their invasion territory?"

VioletBlood shook her head. "And I don't think Vualia would be happy with keeping the occupation in place."

"And no one cares, not really. Of the three biggest Houses: our objections are ignored, Elena gives empty air to avoid offending their ally, and Luxon are the invaders. The smaller Great Houses are ignored."

"And the three Medium Great Houses, Ziox, Irkella, and Trosier, see nothing wrong with Luxon's actions." VioletBlood sighed.

That was not fully correct. Ziox did protest the actions of their rival to the south, but saw military adventurism on Luxon as a net good, as they had their own designs on the rich farmlands and mines of Luxon's north east frontier.

"Why are we even here?" VioletBlood asked.

I eyed her.

"I don't mean us specifically, I mean our Task Forces. If these negotiations are futile then how does this show of force serve our needs."

"Which Great House have we not talked about?"

VioletBlood sighed. "Alecto."

I sipped my coffee. "They asked some of our diplomats to help with the ceasefire negotiations."

"Yeah, yeah, we're here to provide security," VioletBlood tapped her boot on the deck. "Alecto's not really a belligerent in this."

"Officially?"

I gave her a patient look. "You're of noble blood, shouldn't you know this."

Acting as if what I said did not make sense, she frowned at me. "Minor Houses are wary of Great Houses. Often, they get the sense that the Great Houses care more for their own interests than some minor power. Even the ones that help them."

"Especially," I corrected.

"House Alecto has been a strong trading partner with, well, everyone. Everyone but House Trosier. If you need your trade routes secured, or you need hardware or training, or just supplies, Alecto will sell to you."


"Provided you stay on good terms with Alecto." I could appreciate House Alecto's rational mercantilism. Unlike most Houses, they were less concerned about holding land for the sake of holding land, and more about what networks and connections they could make.

Despite being less populous than House Trosier and spread out among many islands and enclaves all over multiple seas, Alecto was an economically powerful Great House. Which translated into being somewhere between the three biggest Great Houses and the medium three Great Houses in terms of economic and military power.

Though their fellow naval power, and historical enemy, House Trosier could, and did, contend that assertion.

"It's not just that Alecto helped supply and train much of House Vualia's military. They're also trading partners with Luxon."

"Hose Alecto trades with everyone," I echoed her earlier comment.

VioletBlood looked out into the sky. I wondered if she was looking for the rest of our task force.

Field formations of airships were rather dispersed. The actual distances where mutual support was optimized and the craft would not interfere with each other was far further apart than fleet parades or the cinema would imply.

"This is a mess. The House who's been supplying both sides of this war has brought us in as negotiators."

I shrugged. "Who else? Elena's too closely allied with Luxon, and the other Great Houses are too small."

House Luxon did try to protest the Alecto's actions, but not as strongly. While they did not buy many weapons from the mercantile House, they did buy a fair amount of processed goods and components that were useful in the production of their arms.

More than that, after receiving intelligence on how much House Vualia was spending to get House Alecto's help, High Lady Luxon decided to continue the trade.

Unlike Vualia, House Luxon had their own defense contractors and mature arcane industries and thus only bought specialized equipment and hulls from Alecto.

Thus as the occupation ground on and expanded southward, House Vualia was slowly going bankrupt with all their arms purchases. Not to mention the lives lost.

"Will there even be a ceasefire?"

I sipped my coffee, tail rigid.. "Plenty of times both sides will agree to a pause so they catch their breath and build up more equipment and train more troops," I managed to not snarl.

I hated how much of a waste war was. Especially pointless wars.

In many ways, House Vualia was bleeding themselves white to slow and stop the Luxon invasion. Meanwhile, Luxon had found themselves in a position where the productive output of their occupied lands would take decades of investment and securing before they could even start to equalize the costs their invasion had incurred.

I could have told them that. War was a net waste. Productive lives are snuffed out, economic capacity is destroyed, and what is not destroyed is bent towards making things that will be destroyed or at best will be tied up to a pier or stored in a hangar looking pretty.

The only House who came close to coming out ahead of this mess was House Alecto, and even that gave them a reputation hit as ghoulish war profiteers. And honestly, they preferred to sell civil goods and military hardware that just looked pretty in a hangar and racked up easy maintenance fees.

"Does Alecto even want it to stop? Or is this them saving face?" VioletBlood asked. "If they stopped supplying Vualia, the Minor House would collapse. If they stopped supplying to Luxon then the other Great Houses would get upset."

"It's a mess," I agreed. The briefings before we were deployed out here painted a grim picture. One that just showed what happened when the Great Houses had proxy fights. Still, it was better than an open war on Diyu. "Though you're not being cynical enough, Baroness."

She curled her tail inquisitively.

"If this little war stopped, or DarkStar forbid, Luxon pulled out of the occupation zone. Well, that sure is a lot of Janissaries, Heavy Golems, Ritual Plate Air Corps and other troops they can move out of this southeastern front."

Her eyes widened. "Right. We are on the opposite side of House Luxon from the border they share with us."

"Every Luxon hoof-slogger down here is one that can't threaten our interests in central Diyu."

VioletBlood gave me a reproachful look.

I chuckled; she was still young and would need to learn more about reality. "I'm not saying we're here to sabotage this ceasefire talk. Given the factions, it's unlikely to go anywhere and even if there is a hold in the hostilities, it'll be temporary."

"Right, Luxon wants to make use of their occupation zone and Vualia wants their land back."

"But us trying to be peacemakers helps show that House BlackSky is not unreasonable. Or to be more cynical, it reinforces our support of House Alecto. I do worry that our task force isn't strong enough.

The formation we were in had three main assets: there was the ship we were on which could deliver its two Centuries of Legionaries with a Squadron of Legionary Ritual Plate Fliers for decided air support. There was another RP squadron onboard of Fleet Pilots who were normally assigned for Combat Air Patrol roles to protect our ship.

But they could also help the Legionaries, much as how our squadron could help with the mind-numbing, but vital, air defense patrols.

The next asset was our Damocles Light carrier which had three RP squadrons. Combined with the other RP assets that gave us a reinforced Wing. Though not one that could not be deployed in a single strike, not without uncovering our air fleet.

Still, those three Squadrons could be deployed freely. Albeit in that case protecting the carrier would fall on the Squadrons that were watching the other assets in our little formation.

"How are Octavia and GreyDawn doing?" I asked about the two other pilots in my Flight.

"Octavia is settling in. Their Ritual Plate is in good status and they're currently on standby," VioletBlood stated.

"Including yours?" I asked with a light smile.

"Yes, it's working fine."

"Are you getting used to your Polyxo?" Now I sharpened my smile.

"Yes! Your training has gotten me quite used to the new capabilities, thank you!" VioletBlood assured me.

"Good," I purred. I really only had one objection to the baroness buying her own advanced multi-role suit. I even asked my duchess to help expedite her order. And that objection was that I did not want my wingwoman to be a clumsy novice, unable to use such a piece of hardware to its fullest. Thankfully, she was willing to accept some training before we deployed.

VioletBlood nodded. "I can see why you like yours, it really is a step up from the Polydora"

"That is the point. Now, how are Octavia and GreyDawn taking the waiting?"

"Octavia was getting stir crazy until we started doing a bit more patrol flights and recon. GreyDawn is helping her. It'll put more wear on our parts and give our Ritualista more work but..."

I nodded. Idleness was a massive detriment for soldiers. Also I wanted more intelligence about activities on the surface. The Prefect Centurion in charge of the Legionary component on the ship had let a couple Contubernium of her forward recon go out to investigate the surface.

A handful of squads of eight Legionaries had found some activity around the city where the ceasefire was being negotiated but nothing definitive. It was enough to mark a few transit routes and choke points that could be bombarded if enemy forces were detected using them.

Our Task Force's heavy hitter was a Mace class Destroyer. It carried eighteen Fujiwara aerial Torpedoes. Each was a missile about twenty feet long and weighing about two and a half tons. They came in a lot of variants: fleet defense, fleet strike, ground support and more. Ours had a mix which increased flexibility but decreased capacity.

That was the big limit; once our destroyer shot its Torpedoes they were gone. There was a set of reloads on the cargo ships but they would take time to transfer over. And once those were gone the Destroyer would be empty. It still had some value as a persistent platform for an RP Squadron.

Meanwhile, Ritual Plate can be sent on multiple missions, assuming they survived. However, there was something nice about launching an expendable munition to take out a target. Far less risky.

And I was not just saying that because as a Ritual Plate pilot, every target destroyed by a big missile was one less I had to risk my neck over.

Still, this gave a formation that while those two centuries, 160 Legionaries, did not have much in the way of heavy equipment, they had a lot of potential air support. Unless something made a concerted effort on our airships.

"Luxon has been spending a tithe of its military slowly grinding Vualia for decades," I noted, clasping my hands behind my back.

"These minor wars are draining."

"It will be more draining if we're drawn in," I noted. Abstractly, a two front war on Luxon could be interesting, but then with us going after Luxon on our eastern border, Elena might come in on our northern border.

But just because the higher geopolitics were beyond my ability to influence decisions, did not mean I did not want to know exactly what kind of mess I had been put into.

From what I had learned at the briefings the squadron heads had given to Flight leaders, such as myself, current Fleet Intel and the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance was fairly confident that while Ritual Plate and several heavy weapons assets had fallen into the hands of the various groups that had been spawned as minor House Vualia slowly fragmented and House Luxon's proxies started getting their own ideas....

There were not the numbers and skill to make a serious bid for an organized Task Force.

Even one our diminutive size.

"How does it feel to be a tripwire?" I asked.

"Am I supposed to prefer I was on the larger vessel?" VioletBlood shrugged. "I mean a Hadian does have nicer facilities. I heard they even had a makeshift pool made out of one of the water ballast tanks."

I shook my head. "I suppose I can't begrudge you for wanting luxuries."

"Oh? what do you want?"

"Quicker mail. There's such a delay for non-critical messages out here." I frowned and sipped my drink. "I know it's indulgent."

"Oh? Anyone... special you wanted to talk to?" VioletBlood teased. "Or just family?"


I blinked. "Before we deployed I was doing an interesting point and counterpoint with an anonymous pilot at a western base in the Journal on Air Combat about the finer points of using Zephyr for thrust vectoring. I don't agree with all her arguments but it was engaging. Ah well."

VioletBlood gave me a big smile. "Well maybe you can just keep up a slower paced long distance relationship."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, yes, we both want little luxuries."

"I mean mine can be met by flying over to Task Force 403," VioletBlood smugly said. "They have a ship large enough for a pool."

In a bid of sanity we were not the only Task Force in the area. Task Force 403 had a Medium Air Trinity of a Maul Cruiser, Mellona Medium Carrier, and Pike Torpedo Bomber Tender, their scouting force, escorts, and fleet train, plus a full Cohort of Legionaries and their VTOLs on a Hadian LRI transport. Said Task Force had been assembled in the same operational area as ours.

That came to over a Wing of Ritual Plat that could be deployed without putting a dent into their defensive formations, over a hundred ready aerial Torpedoes, over seventy more as reloads in the cargo ships, and a light squadron of five Hasta Torpedo bombers.

The Hasta had a combat radius that ranged between about 750 miles to 1,200 miles depending on how fast the bomber was going, and each could carry a pair of Fujiwara Torpedoes. Which extended the functional range of the Fujiwara and could launch them from multiple vectors all while using a platform that was a bit more expendable. The Hasta could also work in a defensive or persistent patrolling role.

"I didn't bring my bathing suit," VioletBlood said and looked down at the land below us. It was largely forested but there were rising mountains and crags and warrens. And if Vualia implodes?"

I frowned and pondered. There really was an advantage that came with a stronger Task Force.

Combined with the Medium Trinity's Ritual Plate Wing, it was a fair collection of assets that could deploy a good distance from their mother airships. And did not even count the dozen Umbra medium VTOLs, the flight of three Spahta Light VTOLs and two escorting squadrons of the Legionary Ritual Plate on the Hadian also attached to the larger Task Force.

The Medium Trinity had as their escorts a squadron consisting of three Kolibri Patrol carriers and three Kolibri Torpedo corvettes. Three times the size of the tiny Venture scout, the Kolibri was a fast, and inexpensive ship that could be configured for a lot of roles. As a patrol carrier it could hold two Light Squadrons for a total of eighteen Ritual Plate and a Spatha Light VTOL. As a corvette it could carry eight aerial Torpedoes and a single Light Squadron.

I sipped my coffee and pondered the baroness' question. "What do you think?'


"Queen Vualia's control of her interior territory has decayed as factions and movements rose up. All upset with the idea that a stalemate would be the best thing that could be promised. What if House Vualia turns into another one of those blank parts on the map that had a notional House, but was really just a mess of city-state tyrants?"

"An end to organized resistance would suit Luxon just fine, They can take on every pretty war-lady brood queen in turn. Who knows, in time with larger land, resources, and population, Luxon might eclipse us in power."

"And even Alecto could make use of that fall. Who could blame them if house Vualia imploded? They had done everything to supply and help the minor House." VioletBlood's tail flicked. "Though it would probably be best for Alecto if instead of being destroyed, House Vualia was reduced to a rump state."

"Something small and manageable that Queen Vualia could control and thus continue to buy arms and support from Alecto? Perhaps." I finished my coffee. "But there's another angle."

VioletBlood tilted her head.

"It doesn't take much from Luxon surpassing us, to them threatening Elena in primacy. And while Elena and Luxon are strong allies, it is mostly so they can stand together against us, and be dominating against the medium Great Houses."

"And Elena wants to stay the senior in their partnership?"

I nodded. It was... not surprising, but still ominous how even a minor brushfire war over a thousand miles from Diyu between a Great House and a fragmenting minor House could, if things went wrong, end up destabilizing the balance of power between the Great Houses.

It was all so wasteful.

I nodded to VioletBlood. "Get Octavia and GreyDawn, I want us to do a Flight exercise. I'll see if either Centurion in charge of the infantry centuries wants to do a little exercise in calling fire support."

VioletBlood blinked. "You think you can get drop permission?"

I shook my head. "We'll all have to war-game it. But our role is to support the Legionaries and we'll let the Fleet girls take the job of controlling our airspace."

VioletBlood nodded, feeling more confident than I did. I had enough experience to know that air superiority could be very ephemeral, but if things went bad and those Legionaries had to be deployed then they would do so without heavy armor. Neither taskforce had any tanks or Infantry Fighting Vehicles, and there were only three Arachne artillery systems in both task forces.


And while there was a number of Fujiwara Torpedoes including anti-infantry and anti-armor variants with large warhead payload and a lot of cleverly-lethal submunitions there was a finite number of them. We did not have the luxury of a bombardment cruiser that could dedicate the majority of its magazines to ground attack munitions. And even with the best telemetry there was a limit to how close you could fire them at friendly troops.

If it came down to legionary fighting, we would be their heavy firepower.

But that was the whole point of being Imperial Legion Ritual Plate Pilots.

++++++

Putting the metal mug and plate into the return bin, I exited the forward mess and went up starboard the forward-aft passageway and around a jog to a small briefing room that was a deck above the main Ritual Plate maintenance bay.

I sat down in one of the chairs that had been secured to the deck. Most compartments on Fleet Airships had tracks in the floor panels that allowed furniture to be attached via latches that did allow relocation when needed, but the rest of the time were fixed in place.

One of the key rules about airships was that unsecured objects can easily become dangerous projectiles if the vessel suddenly jolts or bumps. A table tumbling down a room was one level of concern. A quartet of seventeen ton Umbra medium VTOLs rolling around in the aft hangar could seriously upset the whole airship's balance, stability, and structural integrity.

The squadron commander, Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus was already in the conference room at the head of the table. Her flickering orange eyes looked over me. Her green braid was a bit shorter than when she had been my instructor.

"Primus," she nodded to me. "You're early. And dressed," she said after noting that I was wearing a loose black tunic over the reinforced, enchanted, and flexible suit pilots wore under the hard shell armor that made up the outer Ritual Plate.

"I finished eating early, no reason for me to hover over VioletBlood, Octavia, and GreyDawn."

"You've been having them do more exercises?"

I nodded. "Focusing on communications training with the Centurions, her subordinates in charge of the Centuries and even some of the Decani in charge of individual Contubernium."

"Good, I'm glad I'm not alone in my paranoia," Prefect Quirinus nodded. She then looked up as her two other Primus Centurion Flight leaders entered the compartment.

With straight pale blue hair, and golden eyes, Primus Caenis was Prefect Quirinus' wingwoman and official commander of the First Flight while also second commander of the squadron. Coming in at her heel was the shorter sharp-cheeked shaved head, crimson-skinned form of Primus Mercy Gabinus.


After them came a tall, solid woman with short blonde hair, deep purple skin, and rather short little red horns. Wearing a white Fleet tunic, Prefect Volantes Centurion Tatius RavenSnow was the commander of the RP squadron assigned to HFV Garuda.

Trailing her was another Flight commander in fleet livery who was almost as petite as I was, but Primus Wencesla had to be at least twice my age, maybe three times. It was hard to tell given her green eyes seemed very remote and reserved but her features were exceptionally fine and delicate.

The two Squadron commanders nodded to each other as everyone sat down.

"I invited RavenSnow over because I feel that this influences all of us. We can't have everyone here because one Flights is out providing Combat Air Patrol and another is on standby as our happy ship's ready reaction force," Prefect Quirinus stated.

"It seems that the negotiations are nearing their end and a ceasefire is about to be signed." Prefect RavenSnow stated.

Most of the other Flight leaders cheered while the Squadron commanders were stiff in posture with stilled tails.

I sighed. "We're going on high alert then?"

Quirinus smiled. "You always were a cynical cadet. That's why I decided to take you under my wing when I got to rotate out of a training billet.

"Our countess is correct." She looked at the rest of us. "Right now, there's a lot of people unhappy with the idea that 'their side' is throwing in the towel for the status quo. And we want to get our people out of the city as soon as possible."

"The signing itself is an obvious target but so is leading up to it, and even afterwards when everyone is leaving," RavenSnow agreed.

Quirinus looked to myself and her other Flight leaders; she made lingering eye contact. "I want you coordinating with the Century commanding officers as I think we'll be doing ground support before long. Tauria has augmented the standard refresher training for this scenario. After this meeting, ask for copies of her plan."

I bowed my horns.

"The whole of Task Force 402 will be shifting to a higher alert. With RavenSnow and her friends on the Syracuse, our Damocles light carrier, I'm happy with our strike and air superiority capabilities. Myself, all my focus will be on our people down there. The negotiation team, their guards, and the poor Legionaries we're probably going to have to send down to get them out. The rest of the city can burn for all I care."

"We're pulling the negotiators out of the city?" Primus Wencesla asked, a rather deep voice coming out of her tiny form.

I frowned, the negotiations themselves were taking place in a resort a few miles to the south of the city. It was mostly a place for skiing and other winter sports. Though in the summer there was some use of mountain, hiking, climbing and base jumping, a sport that was far safer if you could fly.

Over the years though with the occupation inching closer the resort was used less and less, and in the summer months was hardly used at all. Making it an isolated, but luxurious place to try to hold the negotiations.

"The Vualia and Luxon delegations are supposed to leave after the signing, and followed by the Alecto and BlackSky arbitration teams." Quirinus shook her head. "Thankfully the signing itself will be in the resort, but there are supposed to be some ceremonies in the city, provided it's not on fire."

I frowned. Ortov was barely a city but did mark a trade area in what remained of northern Vualia. It was close to a de facto open city as its distance to the border made it untenable to keep major hardware there.

The northern command, and major base, of House Vualia's northern front was kept in the city of Milhen a couple hundred miles to the south of here. If Milhen fell then the eastern and northern parts of Vualia would fall, leaving them with a rump state near their coastal capital of Huburia.

"If things go bad I'm planning on deploying my squadron to help with ground support as well," RavenSnow said. Two of her three flights were Polydora multi-role with One Flight, hers, were Harmonia air superiority models.

Conversely, Quirinus' squadron was half Polydora and half Polyxo advanced multi-role: Quirinus First Flight, myself and VioletBlood. I had the dubious distinction of having a mixed model Flight. Quirinus had flown a Harmonia when she was my cadet instructor, but in a bid to logistics sanity, she had changed to a Polyxo when she took over this squadron.

"I've gotten the approval of the ship's captain. If we all have to go down, Trierarch Melodious will move the HFV Garuda to the fleet train and let the cargo ships' RP squadrons protect this airship as well. This will also put us more firmly under the defensive umbrella of the destroyer Vajra."

I nodded, it was a hard calculus, especially with smaller ships. While a fleet airship did have multi--layered defenses: high power ward shields, banks of Vel interceptor missiles, and Mertis six-barrel heavy rotary cannon, they were still airships. Fragility, large size, and relatively low speed were intrinsic to the platform.

That was what made Ritual Plate and Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes a natural complement for defending fleet elements.

"Further, baring unpleasantness, our larger cousin, Task Force 403, should be able to help. They can deploy a full cohort of Legionaries and a lot more air assets."

"Not to mention whatever our allies in House Alecto bring," I added.

Quirinus met my gaze. "We are coordinating with them. They have a naval Task Force near the border and assets in the city but given the occupation zone is a peninsula, it would be a bit of time before reinforcements arrive."

"And their base on Meropis Island?" I asked. They based their Epsilon Fleet there, which while mostly being a force to provide escorts to those transiting the area, did have a squadron of heavier units.

"If it comes to a major fleet action from Alecto then we might be the secondary force in this theater, which suits me fine."

"And possible enemies?" Primus Mercy Gabinus asked. She gave me a slight look and I wondered if there was any jealousy. Yes, she commanded Second Flight, while I had Third Flight and she had more experience, certainly as a combat Flight commander. But I had all that baggage that came with my actions four months ago over Narvos.

"Who wouldn't be our enemy?" Wencesla countered. The Household Fleet Primus Centurion was a remarkably cynical little thing.

RavenSnow nodded to her subordinate. "We can count on Alecto to be on our side and the Vualia regulars wouldn't want to get our, or their Queen's wrath. Luxon would be wary of opening another front, unless they had planned it."

"Other than that there's all sorts of irregulars, that's the problem with proxy forces and irregulars," Quirinus said.

"We need to anticipate hardware and Ritual Plate from both Alecto and Luxon." I frowned, my tail flicking. "Well, Alecton export models are a known quantity to us, and Luxon RP is mostly House Elena designs locally built. Still..."

"Still?" Wencesla inquired.

"We don't want to get complacent. There are a lot of Houses who would be happy if this war blew up. Enemies of us, Alecto, or Luxon."

"Which is everyone," Wencesla laughed.

I nodded to the Household Fleet demoness who barely stood taller than me. "Right, and this invasion has been going on for a while, and these negotiations aren't secret."

"What are you saying?" Quirinus asked.

"It would be really nice if some CSR spooks were out and about," I shrugged. There was some on-the-ground scouting being done but that was more tactical in scale of tracking local potential enemy movements and styling terrain.

The Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance existed to go into a situation and take a full view of the social, economic, cultural, strategic, and logistical factors. To understand the factions, their goals and enemies and allies.

I was pretty sure my duchess's actions in Narvos had CSR claw-marks all over it. I did not press because a young, innocent-looking, but extremely skilled and vicious pilot would be exactly the kind of person CSR would want to recruit.

Not for undercover or infiltration work, but to provide backup in case an operation was blown and their agents needed to be pulled out.

RavenSnow snorted. "Careful about wishing for steak, little countess."

"Aye ma'am," I bowed my horns to her . "Wish for steak and you might get it alive, articulated, and attached to something angry with big horns."

Wencesla quirked a lip. "Or someone angry."

I frowned. It was an... unpleasant variant to the idiom, but the sentiment was true enough.

"Also I want you to coordinate with the Ventus Centurions piloting our VTOLs. Escorting those ships as they drop Legionaries will be the first thing we'll be doing to help the hoof-sloggers make it out alive," Quirinus stated.

With a crew of three: pilot, copilot, and load mistress, the Umbra Medium VTOL was a roughly seventy foot long workhorse utility transport. It could move nearly ten tons of cargo, forty legionaries, their supplies, and support equipment, a pair of small vehicles like Nymph light transports or Nyx stealth scouts, or an Arachne artillery system.

The Umbra was a good mix of small enough to be berthed on most airships and land on all airships and large enough to have a decent storage capacity for airborne resupply or combat drops. With a combat radius of about eight hundred miles it had fair range. It was armed with Vel Missiles and Minerva three barrel rotary canons and protected by some warding, countermeasure launchers and a bit of Veiling. There was a more expensive variant used for more CSR style operations that had full-blown near-invisibility capabilities.

A Flight of two Umbra mediums could deploy a Century of Legionaries. And they could do a much better job if there were some Ritual Plate protecting them.

And more than just the loss in lives and ground combat capability, losing an Umbra was a loss in tactical lift capacity. Which was especially acute when our Task Force only had a heavy squadron of the things. Four on our troopship and one each on the...

"What about the cargo ships in the fleet train?" I asked. Each Opis class Light Fleet Cargo vessel had a single Umbra as a cargo shuttle.

Approval in her eyes, Quirinus nodded. "We've kicked it up and got agreement to have them as a reserve and as a second wave if needed once the four VTOLs onboard this ship launch. That'll help get some of the Legionary's heavy equipment down faster."

"And the Flight of three Spatha Light VTOLs on the Damocles Light carrier? Wencesla asked.

RavenSnow inclined her head to her. "I've contacted the staff on the HFV Syracuse and their Spatha will be used for pilot recovery and any small-scale ground insertion. We've got the scouting group in the Ventures doing more screening to give us a bit more time in case something goes wrong."

Good, I was happy the Fleet officers were more than willing to contribute as much hardware as possible to this. About a third of the size of the Umbra, the Spatha had a quarter the capacity. But that made it useful for delivering or recovering ten Legionaries, medical evacuation, deploying Marius Mules, or a couple tons of cargo.

They had roughly the same layout as an Umbra: aft ramp, twin V-shaped tail, high-fuselage mounted stub wings with rotating Zephyr-powered engine pods on the ends, port and starboard sliding doors, forward cockpit with avionics, scrying, weapons, and canards in the nose.

The Spatha was much smaller, a bit slower, and had a shorter range. But they were great for roles when an Umbra was too large.

"I'm glad we've come to such an accord." RavenSnow gave Quirinus a wry look. It seemed she was pleased with the Legionary Squadron Commander's subordinates. It was an important balance to make your superior look good while not outshining them. "I was worried you might think that we in the Fleet don't work for a living."

Quirinus flashed her teeth. "Not everyone in the Household Fleet is a layabout who rests in a pool after a hard day of watching the ground roll past, polishing levers, and eating honey cakes. Some of you could pass for Legionary Fliers."

"Yes and not all Legionaries need help keeping their horns from getting tangled in their helmets, can't read the instructions on their ammo crates, or have Tribunes who need a map to tell them which direction the ground is," RavenSnow countered.

The two Prefect Centurions laughed.

"I'll renew our contacts with the 3 squadrons on the cargo ships doing fleet defense and the 3 on the Syracuse that can be deployed. I don't want to send our forces in penny-packets because we're underestimating or in denial of the scale of the problem," RavenSnow said.

"What about asking for Task Force 403?" I inquired. "Combining our forces with a Medium Air Trinity and a full LRI Cohort would give us over four times the Legionaries, Ritual Plate, Aerial Torpedoes, and an entire light squadron of Hasta Torpedo bombers. Not to mention a Kolibri Patrol squadron could give us some real scouting in force."

RavenSnow looked at me and an expression of maternal indulgence flickered between one of vague unease. "Honestly, I've made the case, but as you point out, that squadron of Torpedo boats is already within their combat radius. Same as their landing craft and Ritual Plate. It'd be nicer if they were closer but their worry is that if hostilities restart won't just be here."

I bowed my head to concede the point. When to concentrate and when to disperse one's forces was a judgment call. An advantage of BlackSkyvian doctrine was that, at great cost: monetary, infrastructure, manpower, and logistics, we had a considerable range of power projection That is when it came time to deploy Legionaries, Ritual Plate, Torpedo bombers, or Aerial Torpedoes we were not limited to the area immediately around the airship Task Force.

Which was another key part of the defensive doctrine of the Household Fleet, as they liked having distance, and thus time, between themselves and enemies, if at all possible.

Naturally, our enemies knew this, and did their best to deny us that advantage.

"Unfortunately, the window of potential attack is too broad to keep everyone up and awake," Quirinus sighed. "We will be at a higher status alert. We will keep our three shifts but will have one Flight from each of our Squadrons in the air at all times, and everyone in Standby Flights will be suited up."

She held a hand to cut off any minor protest. When airships wanted to keep a 24 hour persistent Air Patrol they typically used a three shift rotation. Each rotation was staggered and had a seven and a half hour rest period, a pair of roughly four hour patrols and a period of seven hours of standby status in the middle. There was also some prep time to get suited up before each patrol.

With the patrols split up it was not that fatiguing, for a short period, but over a long time it did get wearying. Hence ,why earlier we would have one Flight in the air at all times, but with a total of six Flights we could provide some relief substitutions.

This is also why a hitch in a Venture scout could be quite the ordeal. As those tiny airships only had six Ritual Plate, and if they wanted to keep a persistent patrol that required a pilot and her wingwoman to be out at all times.

Some vessels went with a watch cycle of four shifts. This allowed for more overlap in patrolling formations but required the standby part of the watch cycle to be split up. And the largest of airships simply doubled up on having a pair of three Watch Cycles going that were slightly offset.

The worst part would be spending the whole Standby part of the day in Ritual Plate. I would have to remember to bring my paperwork so I could get something done while waiting by my arming chair. Though that could allow my Ritualista to do more fine tuning on the maintenance checklist.

Ritual Plate always needed maintenance, servicing, and checking and most Ritualista crew were never fully satisfied that their suits were a hundred percent.

"It's not just us," Quirinus stated. "We've got two Centuries of Legionaries who will have to be ready at any time to climb onto those Umbra mediums and drop into whatever mess is on the surface because of this ceasefire."

"A lot of Ventus Centurions and their crews are going to be sleeping in the cockpits of their VTOLs," Mercy noted.

Which was fair. While Ventus Centurions, VTOL Pilots, were not as glamorous as Ritual Plate Pilots, they were, if anything, more vital. Ritual Plate can do a lot of roles, but it made for a lousy cargo or troop transport. Not to mention the sheer skill required to thread an aircraft though an airship's stern landing gates or to do a combat drop.

The small size of a Ritual Plate made many maneuvers such as carrier landings far easier than in a fuselage aircraft.

"And all the Fleet personnel will be severely lacking in time to enjoy their honey-cakes," RavenSnow joked.

Quirinus nodded. "Remember, our role here is to do the most we can to prepare for whatever hell the Legionaries end up fighting. We're about as far away from the House as we can without being off-world."

"Any limits on our actions with respect to diplomatic fallout?" I asked.

Quirinus gave me an odd look. "As long as you don't kill the Luxon ambassador or her life wards I think we'll be okay. Or any other ambassadors. Though, I would avoid just killing any Janissaries or Luxon Ritual Plate who are just trying to evacuate their people."

I noted she made no mention of irregulars.

"Right, if there's no other questions, coordinate your training, get the updated lesson plan from our little countess, and update your Flights with the good news about our operational tempo," Quirinus ordered.

RavenSnow gave a nod of agreement.

Passing out some sheets of flimsy carbon paper, Quirinus stood up. "Here's the modified rotation schedules. I've already had them pushed to your Ritualista crews, given they're the ones who have to keep you lot in the air.

I memorized the paper before folding it. I would keep it long enough to brief my Flight and then dispose of it. In the field, burning was the expedient option, but that was not wise given we were in an airship full of munitions, high density alchemical fuels, empowered enchantments, and the contents of our lifting cells.

The various additives to the gas mixture made the Fleet Airships into something other than total death traps. But I was still anxious. On the other hand, I could fly.

For obvious reasons, everyone was trained in damage control, and the dedicated Damage Control crew were all skilled pyromancers. Still, being sloppy with fire was an unnecessary risk. The note could be shredded, eaten, or I could go to the smoking lounge and burn it there.

Quirinus turned sympathetic. "We tried to keep it so everyone would start the new shifts without needing to be up for more than eighteen hours."

"We don't want you to be using any Pep pills right now." RavenSnow frowned as we started to file out. "I fear we may have to rely on those soon enough."

My tail stilled at that. It was a prudent worry, but if the Squadron commanders thought we would be having Wing-sized combat lasting long enough, the better part of a day, that their pilots would have to take military stimulants to keep going....

Pilot fatigue was a limiting factor to Ritual Plate. Fuel cells could be swapped out, munitions systems replenished, even Ritualista could make repairs when Flights came back for replenishment, but the pilot inside, she had only so much mental energy.

I would need to make sure my Flight was ready.

++++++

I sat down into the arming chair with a thud. My Ritual Plate practically sighed as my Zephyr spooled down and my Ritualista team started helping ease them to quiescence.

I leaned back and relaxed. Bolts and clams extended from the chair to support the frame of my armor. My wings went limp and fell behind me. In nearby chairs the rest of my Flight were also getting out of their suits.

And on the other side of the bay, Household Fleet Primus Wencesla and her flight were also getting out of their suits.

My maintenance chief, a sour-faced cynical Optio with long black hair, stepped in front of me. I gave Suzette Gibbs a thumbs up and she motioned and one of her crew started separating my helmet. First came off the faceplate and then came the sides and back pieces. This allowed the Hemet to come apart around my horns.

I breathed in and out. After a thankfully monotonous, four hour patrol mission even the acrid, metal-tinged air of the Ritual Plate bay was a step up.

"Any problems, Primus?" Optio Gibbs asked.

I shook my head. "Everything is green."

She gave a disbelieving look as her tail curled and she pulled up a diagnostic screen that was plugged into the back of the arming chair. "We're nearing the end of life on some of the power regulation enchantments and the alignment of your secondary scrying system is a bit off."

"I'm wearing a Gorgon rig for these flights," I stated, eyeing to the extra equipment on my helmet that sheathed over my horns. Other Ritualista were working on my gloves and powering down the weapons and warding systems in my gauntlets and chest armor.

Matching my gaze, Gibbs frowned at me.

"Okay, if you can get the spares and do the work instead of sleeping tonight that's fine by me."

Gibbs sniffed as her tail flicked, but she allowed it. The problem with Ritualista was they often felt that the suits were theirs. Sure, I flew the thing but that was, on average, only for a few hours a day. Meanwhile Gibbs had a whole team who fussed over the complicated collection of enchantments for the majority of every day.

Not that I would keep them from doing a good job. If they wanted to double their efforts then that was fine by me. When things went bad, I was going to depend on this Polyxo Mark 15 Gamma Block to keep me alive.

I curled my toes as the nearly en point stylized sabatons and their connected greaves were opened up and pushed back. At least when flying the angle those things put my ankles at was not a pain. I knew the reasons why Ritual Plate, at least BlackSkyvian variants, had footwear like that. And while there was some small excuse for better aerodynamics.

And there were mitigating factors that Ritual Plate was not supposed to be used on the ground. Still when it came down to it, the heels were an aesthetic choice. One that irked me as much as how the armor was contoured around hips and torso. To where it gave a feminine form that was exaggerated regardless of how little or how many curves someone had. Thankfully there was not too much of that with my suit.

Again, part of that was functional. Or at least that internal components had to be stored somewhere in the armor. So some areas were going to be thicker than others, and when mobility concerns and overall aesthetics were taken into account, one ended with a certain design form.

Plus wings meant that we could not use backpack style storage. Even infantry legionaries had to carry their kit in small of the back style haversacks and slings over one hip.

It came down to that Ritual Plate was a thaumaturgical collection of heavily enchanted and artificer-built components that had a specific aesthetic and cultural weight.

I sighed and accepted a flask of water from one of the maintainers who was hovering about taking parts and tools to and fro. All while the rest of the crew in their dark blue one piece jumpsuits moved around. They had belts and harnesses over their suits which were used to hold tools and other odds and ends.

Now that my weapons had been depowered and were being disconnected they started working on the fuel cells. I still had a fair bit of reserve but topping them off was standard procedure.

Since my Polyxo was configured in air superiority and interception roles, I had more power to maneuverability at the higher speed performance. And was armed with Ballista weapon projectors.

These were high-power long range weapons that could fire arcane energy at a power and distance second only to the Lances of a Telephe strike unit.

While not capable of breaching capital-grade ship protection, the Ballista had far greater capacity. And could be dialed in power. At the higher end they could take out small ships, attack aircraft, and bombers. At a lower power setting they could fire in burst mode that was useful for strafing infantry targets, or light armored vehicles.

An in between setting was useful against enemy Ritual Plate or more well protected ground targets. While the Ballista was not an ideal air to ground weapons system, it was still a lot of evocation magic packed into an energy dense blast of power.

The key to the Ballista was knowing how to control the trade off between power, firing rate, and capacity. If you could line up and ensure a given shot would hit then a single knock out punch would be worth it. On the other hand, a dispersed pattern of lower power might catch the enemy and disable the ability to maneuver.

This was especially true as at the highest power setting one could empty their munition capacity in not much more than a dozen shots.

Like most aerial combat, being the first to position yourself and get the shot off before your enemy knew where you were was ideal.

I drank some more water as more connections, cables, and links were undone. Even with the power systems off and the suit now pressing on me with its natural weight, the whole thing still thrummed with power.

I looked over and saw the two Flights on standby were basically resting around their arming chairs, having minor maintenance, doing paperwork, and having a bit of a snack. All good ideas.

The waist and chest pieces were unlatched and hinged open. A few of my crew were checking the internal water canteens and the rest of the hydration and nutrition systems. The various drinking and nutrition tubes had to be cleaned on the regular, just another little thing on the maintenance checklist.

I rolled my shoulders but then stopped when the back armor, still bolted to the chair, started to be undone. The armored bits between and above my wings were removed which allowed me to get up.

The last few connections between my bodysuit and the plates of the Ritual Plate were disconnected. In her traditional role, when circumstances allowed, Optio Gibbs held out her hand and pulled me up to my feet.

I stretched out my wings and tail. The dark grey-blue bodysuit I wore under the armor was comfortable enough. It had good heat regulation systems and kept sweat from pooling. It was not the most flattering garment and it was tight in some spots, loose in others. It was edged in enchantments as well and sized to each pilot. With its collection of ports, connections, and harness straps for anchoring armor plates it was a bracingly practical garment.

It made me smile that despite the ornate affections, as possibly justified as some may be, of Ritual Plate on the outside, on the inside it was all function.

"I'll be right back," I told Gibbs before stretching my leg out and up and then the other. It was a bit of a risk to stand on one leg on an airship. But one advantage of my time in ballet was phenomenal balance and flexibility.

Which were useful when your day job was training to fly an armored suit into battle. I then did a squat and arched my back backwards and did a few other stretches. While Ritual Plate was quite flexible and you could do a lot in it, see my ballet experience, there were some movements that the armored suits could not allow.

After doing that, I quickly went to do something that was allowed in Ritual Plates, but I liked to avoid it whenever possible. Which was why airships always had a set of heads near the Ritual Plate bays. And why there would be a bit of a rush to the bathrooms once a Flight, or two, came in and got out of their armor.

After taking care of the necessities, I went to the group of pilots on standby and grabbed a sandwich and some coffee from the cart that was locked onto the deck.

I nodded to them and went back to the maintenance crew. Chewing through some sort of salted pork, cabbage, fish sauce, on a wheat bun I chased it with a bit of salty, burnt Fleet coffee and then crunched on a gritty red orb that was part of every soldier's rations.

At least the bread was fresh-baked. It was amusing that it saved on weight cargo space, especially freezer space, to simply carry the components for bread and bake it onboard the airship.

Flushing with energy, both caloric and life, I had a few more bites. I was hungry now and just wanted something to cut off the edge. Before going to my rack for sleep, I planned to head to the mess and get a more proper meal.

Reaching Gibbs, I held out a hand and my maintenance chief handed me a clipboard. Paperwork was inevitable.

It was best to get ahead of it, though my bed did call to me. It was less of a mattress and more of an interwoven double-layer hammock-like surface with a rectangular frame. With a wool blanket over it, it was surprisingly comfortable, if a bit springy. However its real advantage was that it was very light.

A Phoenician class transport like this could berth nearly four hundred and forty people. Reducing weight on even things like crew amenities did add up.

Eating one of her own sandwiches, VioletBlood walked up to me. She still had her noble composure, despite weariness on her features. I nodded to her. "Any issues?"

"We're good," VioletBlood gestured to the other pair in my Flight.

Octavia had glossy black hair, purple eyes and, nearly black, dark purple skin. Her wings were a bit on the large side and her tail was longer than normal. She looked willowy and like she still needed some time to fully grow into her form. Which made sense as she was only a couple years older than VioletBlood.

She bowed amethyst colored longhorn style horns at me. "Primus." Her tone was respectful.

"Any issues?" I asked her.

"No, Ma'am!"

"Have you had anything to eat?"

"No, Ma'am! I just got out of my suit. I was going to go up to the mess in a moment."

I sighed. It had taken a bit of time to train her out of being so overawed by her Flight leader. Sure, Octavia was relatively green but she had more combat experience than I did and she was four years my senior.

Crazy demons. I flipped through a few more papers on my clipboard. I signed where I could and made a proxy notation for my seal. I was not in the habit of wearing my Preserver award when I flew.

"GreyDawn, get your wingwoman watered, fed, and make sure she does all the necessities now when she'd got the chance.

GreyDawn was the eldest member of my Flight and I suspected was put here by Prefect Quirinus to keep an eye on me. A no-nonsense Legionary Flier with orange hair that was red at the roots and paler at the tips with grey skin and amber eyes; she had large curled horns and was as solidly built as she was phlegmatic.

I felt she was a good choice to round out my Flight and appreciated her calm, professional demeanor. She was over halfway through her first term of service and while I was not sure if she had any desire for advancement to higher rank, she was the type of experienced Flier that made up the backbone of the Imperial Legions' Ritual Plate force.

Naturally, I paired her with Octavia. I could keep an eye on VioletBlood.

"I could go for a snack too," GreyDawn said, giving me an approving nod before pulling Octavia along.

"Sleep would be nice," VioletBlood muttered as she chewed through her sandwich.

"Proper meal, debriefing, then sleep," I said, finishing up the paperwork and handing the clipboard over to Gibbs.

"Is there even that much to talk about?" VioletBlood sipped her water.

"Only a couple things," I yawned. Their performance on the last patrol mission was acceptable enough. I will admit I was looking forward to a nice sit down meal.

And that's when the sirens started going off telling everyone to go to General Quarters.

VioletBlood jerked her head and her eyes widened, but to her credit she went straight to her arming chair.

I gave a long suffering sigh and finished my sandwich and drained the coffee mug. the good news was that it was not the shrill Incoming Attack alarm. The bad news was that it was the warbling, deeper, almost mournful Drop alarm.

A crisp voice came in over the Primary Circuit. "General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. All Legionaries to landing craft. All Ritual Plate prepare for launch."

Lovely. It looks like the fight was going to take place before the ceasefire was signed after all.

I sat down into the arming chair and relaxed as the Ritualista stared bolting me back into the Ritual Plate. The two Flights on standby were already moving toward the launchers further in the bow, while the two flights that had just gotten out of the damn suits, including mine, were putting them back on.

Gibbs handed me a smoked glass display and I read the deployment orders. Thankfully there were no surprises. "Configuration?" she asked.

"Ground attack, I confirmed. Spread it to the rest of the Flight."

Gibbs nodded and shouted an order to one of her crew who dashed off to the other arming chairs. VioletBlood was shaking her head with a weary sigh. GreyDawn was placidly eating a quick meal while she was being armored. And Octavia was trying to copy her wingwoman's actions.


As I was being connected to the armor and the plates were being secured around me, my Ritual Plates' power systems were tuned. The change was less high speed maneuverability and more low speed capability. More warding modules were also installed. They came at an aerodynamic and power cost that made them not as desirable for air superiority roles, but when dealing with slower attacks against ground fire it was a good trade off.

Different weapons systems including gauntlet and chest piece add-ons were installed. "Make sure I have a full spread on my Falx and use the aiming calibrations from that test three days ago," I ordered.

The Falx projector was the standard anti-infantry Ritual Plate weapon. It had a high rate of fire and good penetration and fair capacity. The downside was that the range was best used for close air support roles. The carrier wave that kept the thermal bloom contained was simpler and thus less effective than those used in Lances or even the air to air Ballista projector.

And even with nearly a thousand "rounds" of arcane energy a pilot could run empty pretty quickly if she was not careful. And even that number came at the cost of overall loiter time and number of rounds in the other weapons systems.

The crew nodded. "And your Pilum?" Gibbs asked.

"Configuration B." The Pilum was basically a bigger version of the Falx projector. The emitters were calibrated to a lower rate of fire, and a higher energy density. They were a bit slow for air roles but made for devastating anti-material weapons. And they could be boosted to an anti-armor mode, but that reduced capacity.

I had just asked for the anti-armor mode. "Have VioletBlood and Octavia with Configuration A. That way we have one of each mode in each pair."

That was a good reason, and Gibbs nodded. But she also seemed to accept my unspoken real reason. While a pilot could swap between modes in the air, it took a few moments to do, and added stress to the system. Moreso while Configuration B could be used in anti-material mode it required a cooler head to not waste shots and risk straining the system.

Between the Falx and Pilum projectors I could see how the Sarpedona Ground Support Ritual Plate, or Multi Role models in that role, could fill roughly the same niche as an attack helicopter.

"Anything special with the pebbles for you Verutum Launcher?" Gibbs asked.

I took a moment to ponder and read the updated information on the display. The Verutum was one of the few solid munition-based Ritual Plate weapons. The housing carried a dozen pairs of precisely carved and enchanted teardrops of obsidian girdled with engraved steel spars. The "pebbles", as the munitions were called, could be charged with an arcane energy based on the pilot's desires and then launched out.

They had some little utility as a kinetic kill weapon. Though with only two dozen shots and a small size any other Ritual Plate weapon would be better. Their real purpose was that they could lob something that was charged with a specific magical effect.

The Verutum was considered a utility anti-arcane weapon against various grenadiers, combat engineers, mage artillery, and other heavy-duty magic users.

"Third thaumaturgical paired shots, third counter-veil, third simple charges," I stated finishing my read on the intel brief of what was happening. It was not much: hostiles inbound in potential cohort strength with air cover.

Gibbs simply nodded, doubtless she had read the same info as it came in. If she thought I was being paranoid for expecting to deal with enemy armor and sorcerers she did not voice it.

I was nearly suited up. I gave a thumbs up as they put the helmet in place and then locked my facemask on. My groggy Zephyr had been coaxed back awake and after a moment eagerly filled the various systems as propulsion and power started to spool up to idle.

I voiced the startup checklist as my internal displays turned on and I connected with my Flight, Squadron, and Wing Control. "Systems are green," I announced as the bolts retracted.

Light on my feet, I stood up and flexed a bit in the Ritual Plated, empowered and in its full arcane potential it felt almost like a second skin. I turned to my Flight and nodded.

"Okay girls, first job is we make sure those Centuries make it to the ground. Then we can find and punish those who thought they could attack House BlackSky under a flag of truce."

"Yes, Primus Centurion!" the three replied as we made our way to the launchers.

End Chapter 6

Hey you gotta let me have some cliffhangers

Besides, there was a lot of setup to have Tauria into her first command and the situation she's in.

Also I'm very happy with how much positive reception this story has had for its characters, action, plot and world building. I've got a few more pieces of art in the works.

I'm also thinking on the best way to put up more of the lore and world building essays. (That said there is an interest in lore, and I do have a... fair bit to share, but I don't want to make that mandatory or just dump it on someone's head, but if folks do want to read more of that...).

I'm also planning to do a revision and cleanup of the first few chapters. Which I'll do before I post them on like FF.net.

Thanks again!

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 7: Meet Interesting People.

I stepped onto the launch platform near the bow of the HFV Garuda. The heels of my Ritual plate locked into the stirrups of the launcher. I suppose that was one reason for the ridiculous shape, though there were far better reasons.

My stance was bladed with my left foot a half pace in front of the right. Indicator lights on either side of me turned to amber then shifted to blue as the launcher locked onto my boots. Leaning forward and locking my leg armor, I spread my wings to where they just filled the long passage. The walls were deliberately smooth and lacking in protuberances.

To my left a fleet rating raised her hand, I replied with a thumbs up. The rating looked to her other side and got a thumbs up from VioletBlood who was in the other tube.

The lights turned green.

Ahead of me was what looked like a fifty foot long one-person corridor that opened to the burning sky of dusk. A light ward flickered at the very edge. The tracks ran down and out to the sunset-light.

"Launching, Legionary Flight 3, first set." The fleet officer in the observation spot above us came. "In four, three, two," as she counted down the lights started to flash green and blue.

Looking a bit nervous, Octavia stood a few paces behind me, clearly on the right side of the orange and black hazard stripes.

I nudged my Zephyr; I felt myself pulling forward as my wings and armor strained a bit against the shuttle, but I kept them in check.

"Launch!" The lights turned blue and were gone in a blur as the catapult triggered and I shot down the tube. Pressed against the rear of my armor by the acceleration, I put power into my air spirits and my boots came off the shuttle as I launched out into the sky.

The catapult shuttle reached the pneumatic resistors, quickly slowed, and pulled back, resetting the catapult as the system was reenergized and was soon ready to fling two more Ritual Plate into the sky.

But that was all vanishing behind me. Stretching out my wings, I took a moment to enjoy the air over my feathers as I rechecked my telemetry and communications. VioletBlood formed up on my wing.

GreyDawn and Octavia launched momentarily after us and soon took position behind us at a slightly lower altitude.

The twin-hulled eight hundred and fortyfoot long mass of our mothership, the HFV Garuda rapidly shrank to a blurry grey dot.

"Diamond Flight 3 has launched," I said over the squadron command channel which was limited to Flight and squadron leaders.

On airships where every pound of weight had to be justified, Ritual Plate catapults had a few things going for them. First, given the relatively light weight of a pilot and her armor, a system that could accelerate that payload did not have to be terribly heavy.

Second, while Ritual Plate was more than capable of simply jumping out of any open hatch on an airship and flying from there, that was suboptimal. It would mean the pilot would have to spend critical moments accelerating to something close to cruise speed, and in the case of a mass launch would leave a lot of pilots clustered near their airship.

The system was a bit too large to keep on the smallest airship class, the Venture Scout, and the next smallest the Kolibri Patrol could only have one. A Mellona medium carrier could launch 2 Flights at once, and a Nova fleet carrier could launch 2 squadrons, one port, one starboard. But the advantage was that the catapults were an enhancement, not a requirement.

"How kind of you to make it," Prefect Centurion Magnus Quirinus dryly noted. "Form up on the Second Umbra Flight with Primus Mercy Gabinus."

My Flight had finished a patrol and had just taken off our Ritual Plate before the alert came off. Still we had gotten launched before the Umbra Medium VTOLs had gotten loaded with their Legionary payload.

"Okay, girls," Quirinus stated, setting her comms so she could talk to all twelve of her squadron. "Things have fallen apart down on the surface and once again it's up to the Imperial Legion to clean up the mess."

Annotated maps updated on my display. "The Household Fleet has so kindly offered to secure the skies and even loan us one of their squadrons. Our first job is to make sure those Legionaries make it to the ground.

"That means escorting the Umbra mediums as they made their drops and clearing out their landing zones," she continued.

There were several ways to get Legionnaires from a troopship up the air to a point on the ground. We were going with the standard.

The most direct was to land the airship. This method had several flaws. The least of which was that an airship needed a rather large space that it could land upon, and would need to retract the ventral tail-fins. The bigger flaw was that a troopship was a large slow target, and one on the ground it became a large, immobile target. This tactic was viable if the troopship was landing at an established base or some other secure location.

A slightly less risky tactic was to take advantage of the fact that Legionaries could fly. However, the further from the landing zone the troopship was the longer of a flight a relatively slow Legionary would be in the air. Such mass paratrooper style drops were once more common. They would have the Legionaries deploy to a somewhat more secured or isolated landing zone, collect on the ground and then march to their target.

The establishment of Long Range Insertion doctrine and various VTOLs reduced that to a vestigial tactic. Though one, that in the right situation, had merit.

I looked over the map. One upside of the long time we had spent waiting during the ceasefire negotiations was that there had been plenty of over flights. So, I had personal experience with the terrain around the resort where the negotiations had taken place, and the nearby city.

I moved my RP Flight over to Second Umbra Flight which had just launched. The seventy foot long VTOLs flew out of the aft amidships port and starboard launch bays with a slight lumber as their stub wings suddenly got more lift. Unlike RP, VTOLs were too large to get catapults.

Primus Mercy Gabinus and her three pilots were already forming up around their launch ships.

"Primus Centurion Gabinus, how do you want to do this?" I asked her on a private channel, deferring to her seniority. There were several ways to conduct an escort.

Thankful for thaumaturgical based communications, and hoping that they were as secure as the boffins assured, I digested the landing operations plan.

The most common method to deploy Legionaries was using various VTOLs as dropships. There were several types of VTOL from the Spatha Light that could deploy a reinforced Contubernium of ten Legionaries, to a half-Century of forty Legionaries via an Umbra Medium VTOL, to two Centuries totaling 160 Legionaries on Gladius or Pugio Heavy VTOLs.

Which VTOL used depended on the type of Landing, the size of the Landing, what phase of the Landing Operation and what VTOL assets were available to conduct the Drop.

For this operation we had Umbra Mediums, and a smattering of Spatha Lights.

"I'm talking with the Umbra Pilots and with this level of escort we can have the luxury of dedicating a flight to each dropship. I'll take lead Umbra, you can take the wing."

"Confirm." That formation did have the downside of less defensive depth. One could have one flight watch both dropships while another ranged out further, but we have more Fleet Ritual Plate for that role.

Even after deciding on VTOLs, there were still several ways to get one's Legionaries from the dropship to the ground.

The most exotic was to teleport. However that was a very rare talent, one that made Ritual Plate Pilots look common. In the entire Imperial Legions there were maybe a few Cohorts of Broadcast Recon. Being able to do multiple teleports, at least six miles, four times in one day, twice in rapid succession and with reasonable precision and carrying a full kit...

Made for a very useful capability for scouting, securing a beachhead, evacuation, the delivery of small but extremely critical cargo, and, obviously, stealth assault. Unfortunately, our Task Force was fresh out of Broadcast Recon. At least we still had plenty of Jammers, in case the enemy had teleport capable assets.

More mundane options were to drop from the VTOL in midair using wings, as a type of paratrooper. High altitude or low altitude or deployment were both options. Alternatively, the VTOL can go for a hover, either close to the ground or higher up and deploy that way. Or the VTOL could simply land.

I switched to the Flight channel and addressed my three subordinates. "You heard the Prefect. We'll be part of a two flight group minding a pair of dropships. The trailing one in the formation is our bird; there's over forty of the Imperatrix's finest in there and it's our job to keep them from dying pointlessly before they even hit the ground."

There was a whole trade-off between deploying forces in good order at a location, and unloading equipment, vehicles, or troops at a specific spot, versus exposure of the VTOL to risk.

Much depended on how secure various landing zones were.

Looking over the plans, it seemed that one pair of Umbra mediums was going to land by the resort, deploy their Century and then take on our diplomatic team, and maybe the Alecto one.

Meanwhile the other Umbra Flight, the one I was assigned to escort would go on a low flight and deploy that Century via airdrop between the resort and the city.

That put the Umbra at less risk, but would scatter out their Legionaries over a larger front. Which could be good or bad.

Keeping an eye on my Gorgon rig intake and the crying feed from the rest of my flight, I linked my Flight channel with that of the dropship pilots. "This is Primus DiamondDust. Aft over-flight is clear."

"We are entering the drop corridor," the Primus Ventus Centurion in charge of the two dropships said in the easy southern Vanis drawl most VTOL pilots seemed to adopt.

"Diamond, contact front!" Gabinus cut in. "We'll take the escort duties."

Hashed symbols popped up as Mercy Gabinus' data popped up on my display. As her flight was escorting the leading Umbra they spotted the probable targets first.

There were a few ways to play this, her flight could go ahead leaving mine advance and spread out to watch both dropships but that would leave the leading Umbra a bit exposed until then, both flights could continue to guard the dropships, or her Flight could spread to watch the rear Umbra while mine raced off to check out the targets.

Every option had risks and tradeoffs, but at least this showed Mercy trusted my Flight and was not some bloodthirster eager to abandon escort duties to go and kill something. I suppose one factor was that my flight had 2 Polyxo advanced suits and Gabinus had none.

"Got it! Flight to me!" I accelerated and adjusted my Gorgon rig intake. I made sure VioletBlood was also trained, and capable at taking in the extra data.

Given the intention of the Gorgon Rig was to be a supplemental reconnaissance suite that was something of a Svalinna light, and thus was intended to send more telemetry back to Flight Ops, and was quite expensive, it was a bit odd to have more than one Gorgon in a Flight.

I disagreed with that assessment and would preferr the Gorgon Rig to be more common. Yes the standard scrying systems were good, but more capability to get targeting info was always a good thing.

"Confirm your camo systems," I ordered as I checked the emissions from my Flight. "I don't want anyone getting tagged because the enemy saw how pretty your flight armor is."

A few miles down-slope of the landing zone was a winding road that connected the resort to the small city of Ortov to the north.

My eyes blinked at the signals. Lovely. "VioletBlood, GreyDawn, confirm?" I asked.

VioletBlood gave her assent, and GreyDawn pointed out that there were some more feeds on lines running parallel. I made a note to ensure next time she had a Gorgon rig as well. Damn the expense.

I'd pay for them myself. That would probably help with the custom fitting.

I switched to the command channel. "Prefect Quirinus, Flight Ops, I've got eyes on a multi-Century strength mixed force vectoring into LZ Two." I read off the coordinates. "They look like irregulars, but they do have vehicle mounts."

"We have received," came the crisp voice of the Operations officer who was part of the team on HFV Garuda coordinating the Landing.

"What have we got? I don't want to strafe some Gendarmerie the Queen Vualia sent to help us."

There was a slight chuckle from Quirinus. "And if they're Luxon regulars evacuating their own people?"

"Odd route," I remarked as we raced ahead of the Umbra VTOLs. Whoever this group was they were going to run into our forces not long after they hit the ground.

"Whoever they are, you're clear to attack if they make a hostile move to our forces," Quirinus stated.

I gave a thin smile. That was quite the latitude in force authorization from my direct superior.

As we closed in, the telemetry resolved into more detail.

And behind me, each Umbra released five Contubernium of Legionaries. The troops jumped and used their own wings to arrest their fall, though their heavy equipment, mostly a handful of Marius Mules, dropped by parachute.

Every two Contuberniums shared a Marius strider-style cargo mule. They were often called " the box beetle" or "the Walkin' Coffin" among other nicknames.

If used as a cargo mule, the Marius freed up seventy pounds of gear for each Legionary. It can also be configured with a water tank with a hundred-thirty gallon capacity. Without flight capability, the Marius has some limits in field use, though it can cover broken terrain at speed. They can be used as a stretcher bearer and in all sorts of utility and cargo roles.

The Mule can also be used as a weapons platform. Either supporting a pintle mount for a Minerva tri-barrel rotary cannon, or a launcher box holding eight Vel missiles.

I hissed as a few images flickered as I got a clearer sight of those vehicles and the troops around them. "Transmitting more info. I'm detecting Alecto crew served weapons, tube arcana, and... Luxon dual-purpose guns on those trucks, possibly Hathors."

Given the Mules were very rugged, and unmanned multi-legged cargo walker golems, they could be mounted with extreme low altitude parachutes and survive being pushed out of the back of an Umbra. As they were being done right now.

I gave a sigh of relief as it looked like the forty odd Legionaries managed to get out of their dropships and onto the ground. They started taking formation, but I would have to leave their direct support to Mercy and her Flight.

"Diamond Flight, we have confirmation," the cool voice of Flight Ops stated. "Alecto, Luxon, and Vualia deny having forces at that location. Weapons free. Weapons free."

I switched to my Flight channel. "You heard Command. Strafe spread. Dash speed. VioletBlood, Octavia target those trucks, they look soft-skinned and are probably our biggest threat. GreyDawn, support Octavia and harrow their infantry."

Trusting VioletBlood to the ground targeting, I expanded my scrying. The four of us accelerated. This was a juicy target but that made it a potential trap. And to my disquiet we were now the forward-most Ritual Plate Flight .

In a couple beats the irregulars came into range. First with the longer range Pilum Projectors. "Hold unless they detect us." I noted.

About half of the mass of troops were mounted on what looked like regular logging trucks. Another group was on the running boards of the Luxon technicals. It looked like those guns were not energized.

And then they were in Falx Projector range. "Fire," I ordered.

This was the moment. As much as I had GreyDawn watching Octavia, it was VioletBlood who had yet to fire a shot in anger.

My concerns were abated as massive purple blasts from her Pilum projector streaked down and blew apart two of the Luxon anti-air vehicles.

Shrapnel scythed through the air and limbs parted as the power systems of the Luxon guns detonated. And the luckless irregulars on the running boards died.

I gave that a bare notice as I opened up with my own Falx. Compared to the Pilum projector, the purple-orange bundles of arcane energy I launched were puny. But there were a lot of them and they spread out as I raked my gauntlets over the crowd.

Behind us, GreyDawn's firing swept through the enemy, her own anti-infantry weapons fire living up to its name. Octavia took out one of the Luxon anti-air vehicles.

And just like that we had passed over the enemy.

There were several schools of thought for Ritual Plate in a ground attack role. Of primary consideration were: how fast and at what altitude? Increasing those factors, in general, decreased the risk to a pilot, but decreased both targeting accuracy and time on target.

There was more to it than that, and a lot of it depended on the situation, the nature of the targets, their support, and one's own support. For example, what anti-air assets did the target have?

Right now, I was worried about those Luxon guns. I was not sure the exact model, but they were probably a variant of their Hathor dual-purpose arcane cannons. Their main weapon consisted of a cooling-finned, steel sheath over a crystalline barrel fed by arcane accumulators.

In the anti-air role, they had a good rate of fire but a somewhat anemic charge for their weight and power requirements. And while their traverse was fast enough, their elevation controls were a bit lacking. Still, an organized, and alert Hathor battery could at least keep Ritual Plate from simply hovering just out of small arms range and bombarding ground troops.

However, for an indirect anti-ground role they had a rather good power, an impressive rate of fire, but a not great barrel life. And in honesty that was where the Hathor really shined. Being able to quickly retarget and have a powerful charge made it useful as a quick-firing bit of light field artillery.

Such guns needed a rather heavy support train, which was why House BlackSky generally preferred more conventional barrels for their ground vehicles, and focused on arcane munitions.

"Nice shooting, Everyone good?" I asked with some support towards VioletBlood and Octavia as we spiraled up and flipped over.

I made sure to get their affirmations before going to the next part. I angled so that we were once again on a vector that would cross the enemy. The key was to keep hitting them from different angles and to not let up.

"Great! The milk run is over and even House-less scum will be ready for us now!" I said with false cheer.

Blinking my display I could see that the enemy column had stopped and tried to dig in. I also caught some backscatter and pings from a targeting array.

"I'm reading one, no two, active Hathor guns!" VioletBlood cried.

"Better us than the Legionaries on the ground," I stated as we raced in. At the moment we were out of their range, but they were also out of Pilum range. "On my mark...."

I waited for the trill in my ear of active targeting to hit. And streamers of green energy burst out.

"Dive!" I cried as the four of us dropped to just above the trees and went in a broad arc. Fortunately, my Flight was skilled enough to keep up.

I pushed my Zephyr as hard as they could go in a straight descent, but the trigonometry was brutal. The Hathor guns fired above us and tried to track down.

"Any time now," I murmured just as VioletBlood and GreyDawn blew the remaining enemy anti-air guns apart.

And then we were among them. My first couple targets were light bursts of Falx fire over clusters of the enemy.

Rifle fire shot up, some of it full or tracers as they ineffectively fired into the night.

But then a couple of irregulars shouldered Alecton man-portable Boudica anti-air launchers. VioletBlood snap maneuvered, her thrust suddenly vectoring to the side as she twisted and launched her own wide stream of Falx fire. One warhead blew up prematurely and sent a cone of shrapnel that blasted just to the side of her wards, causing the arcane shields to light up.

The other came up aft of her but was blown apart when I rolled and launched a high power Pilum bolt that utterly vaporized the enemy missile while it was yards from my wingwoman. The backwash from the heavy anti-armor shot probably cooked her wards more than the missile going off.

Meanwhile Octavia blasted their crews apart before they could reload their missile tubes.

"Keep in formation!" I cried to one of my green pilots. I could just tell she was burning with rage and wanted to make the fight personal. After all, her Flight Leader became an Ace with just a sword.

"What was that!" VioletBlood cried as we raced out of range.

"Mind your targets. Just because we took out their big weapons doesn't mean they're without claws," I admonished as we turned and came back for a third sweep.

This time we were able to go at a higher altitude and slowed a bit. Concentrated Falx fire from all four of us broke the force and they splintered in all directions.

Most of the rabble leaving their wounded behind. I gave a snort in derision as we pulled back to Landing Zone Two.

"Century Two this is Diamond Flight. We just scratched an enemy formation to your North. We took out their vehicle-mounted guns. Estimate two to three centuries of casualties but expect some of their runners, about half a century, to hit your lines," I transmitted to their command channel.

"This is Centurion Claudia. Good shooting Diamond Flight. Can you give us some targeting? My mortar Contuberniums is ready to fire and my grenadiers are in position."

"Giving data now," I quickly told GreyDawn to take Octavia have her act in a spotter role. Maybe that would state her bloodlust somewhat.

I also put in a tiny wince.

An Infantry Century was Commanded by a Centurion assisted by an Optio as a 2nd and Tesserarius as 3rd. It consisted of ten Contuberniums with the Centurion and her staff sometimes as supernumeraries or more-often part of their own individual Contubernium. Six were Infantry Contubernium, five standard hoof-sloggers, one a veteran group. Preferably, the first Evocatus Contubernium consisted of veterans on their second twenty year term.

Rounding out the Century was a Medicae Contubernium, a Mortar Contubernium, and a pair of Grenadier Contuberniums. The Mortar Contubernium consists of two to two mortar tubes that can be kept as a battery or split into two separate teams. They provided indirect fire support at the century level.

And honestly giving them targeting data via Ritual Plate was overkill.

The small mortar battery started firing, adjusting their aim based on what GreyDawn and Octavia were telling them. I noticed Centurion Claudia was not targeting the enemy troops who were closest to her line.

Darkness came quickly this far down South, not that it made much of a difference given our natural night vision, but the psychological effect was still there.

Especially when you were broken by an air attack and were still being attacked from behind.

In a way, the evocation grenadiers were worse.

A Grenadier Contubernium had two to four arcane grenadiers with the rest providing security and carrying ammunition. They were arcanists of mild to moderate power who could empower their grenades with greater power, used kinetomacy skills to help lob the shells with greater accuracy, and other talents that allowed them to use their weapons to great effect.

Evocation grenadiers were devastating in ground combat. From the amount of fire it seemed that this century had a higher number of grenadiers.

They used the Model 45 grenade launcher. A beast of dulled, but engraved, brass fittings and steel that looked like the oversized pump shotgun it basically was. The Model 45 has a deceptively long range, especially in talented hands.

Grenadiers could be used with the line Legionaries giving direct, sometimes indirect, heavy fire support. Such as in this case where they threaded with the standard infantry providing another layer of fire support.

Line legionaries also opened up with their battle rifles and their squad support weapons, but it was more of a mopping up operation after the evocation grenadiers sprung their ambush.

I wondered if Claudia had used her sharpshooters as well. Administratively, sharpshooters were put in the Grenadier Contuberniums. Though the sniper and observer pairs were typically detached and worked directly under the Centurion.

"Targets north of LZ 2 neutralized," I stated over the command channel. I glanced to confirm the power, weapons, and systems status of my Flight. "Flight 3 is nominal." I then read off our power and weapons figures. I included that my capacitor earrings were still at full.

"Understood. Move to patrol over the resort we're taking out most of our negotiation team in three," Quirinus said. "We've got an escort party lined up.

As I had us fly back up to the resort, I pondered my squadron commander's words. Some of our people were... staying? And they had not all left?

Granted that little ground attack had not taken too long, but air mobility was House BlackSky's focus. It was what the Legions and the Fleet trained to do, why would it take so long to load a bunch of negotiators and diplomats onto a transport and get them out?

Were the other factions worried that House BlackSky would abandon them?

I suppose I could understand that worry.

This was Luxon and Vualia's war, with Alecto's help.

At least I had gotten a good strafing run to get my baroness wingwoman blooded. And Octavia's experience had shown through; all in all, not too bad.

And a straightforward attack like that did not expose the performance differences between the two types of suits in my Flight.

A chime came in my ear as Flight Ops cut into the command channel. "Attention. Attention. Luxon Ritual Plate in squadron strength and Scarab transport are on approach to LZ 1." She then read off the vector.

I tensed. Lovely. Luxon had a fair bit of heavy air units that were spirit-inhabited golems. Which made for good bombers and heavy attack craft. However, they maintained a strong Air Corps of House Elena-derived Ritual Plate.

The presence of the Scarab, a major piece of kit, all but eliminated the chance that these were "irregular" forces who are "unaffiliated" with House Luxon. Not that a squadron of Ritual Plate was inexpensive in terms of skilled upkeep, but at least you could store an RP suit just about anywhere.

"This Luxon force is authorized. Repeat. Authorized." The cool voice of Fight Ops stressed. "They are there to evacuate the Luxon delegation."

Seeing the new returns from my Gorgon rig matched up the declared vector, my tension eased a bit. No wonder our people were holding back. These negotiations were in Vualia territory, and Luxon was the obvious aggressor and occupier in this conflict.

Not that being a belligerent, imperialistic invader came with much stigma in this world. All the Diyu Great Houses were aggressive and bellicose, if only to ensure their continued survival.

Still, it was entirely sensible to wait until the Luxon delegation was out of the conflict zone. And it was reassuring that they had cleared their travel path with BlackSkyvian Flight Ops.

I suppose no one wanted to have a VTOL full of diplomats get shot down.

Well... I'm guessing the colorfully armed irregulars, whoever they were, would like that.

"Everyone stay on alert," Quirinus reminded us, talking to her Flight leaders. "These might not be the same Luxon fliers that Flight Ops was told about, and even if they are, we've only got their word they're peaceable."

"Understood." I sighed. The Prefect Centurion was not wrong. I then relayed my orders to my Flight.

It did not take long for the Luxon formation to arrive. My disquiet grew as the imagery came in and I got a clear view of the approaching Ritual Plate. Well as clear as I could make out from the dark grey and sky-dark blues their camouflage systems cast the suits in.

"Are those Anupet multi-roles?" VioletBlood asked as we maneuvered to a higher altitude.

"That is my guess," I noted. The Anupet was House Luxon's answer to the Polyxo Advanced multi-role we were currently wearing. With a smaller Ritual Plate force, House Luxon wanted more flexibility and was willing to spend to have their elite get a parity, at least on an arcane and technical level, with BlackSkyvian hardware.

In the Anupet's favor, House Luxon used fixed wing craft for their strike and bomber roles. Thus the Luxon suit only had to be able to swap between ground support and air superiority. That simplified that model's logistical infrastructure, and their pilot training.

"Watch your weapons systems everyone; let them make the hostile move," I said as my Flight took a place that would give us an over watch of the Luxon landing.

In the center of the Luxon squadron was a rounded, almost bulbous, form of the Scarab transport. With twin pairs of adjustable-sweep wings, propulsion pods in the nose and end of the fuselage and a long twin boom tail, the VTOL looked more like a dragonfly than a beetle.

It was also at least fifty percent larger than an Umbra.

Which made sense, House Luxon's doctrine more centered on local mobility from garrison posts. Which emphasized shorter range but larger air transports and a larger amount of mechanized infantry. Something that dovetailed nicely with their Janissaries.

Two Flights of Anupets escorted the Scarab down as it landed a respectable distance from the Umbra Flight that was already loitering on the grounds around the resort complex.

The remaining Luxon RP Flight kept their altitude and pointedly turned off their camouflage systems. A quartet of sleek black Ritual Plate with gold trim and purple engravings stopped to a hover and stared up at us.

Their helmets had upright vaguely canine "ears" that integrated with their horns forming their scrying systems. There were longer ones that could clip on that were their analog to Gorgon Rigs, but oddly enough none of this flight had any of those.

And instead of the matte death mask look preferred by BlackSkyvian faceplates their masks had an almost lupine cast to them especially with how the breathing systems were built into something rather snout-like.

More disquieting than revealing themselves, the four Luxon pilots had stopped to regard my Flight.

In Ritual Plate combat, in aerial mage combat, in air combat period, mobility was vital. When you stopped moving you made yourself that much more of a target.

I did not have the time to deal with whatever mind game this was. But it made them easier to keep track of and...

"Prefect." I said on the command channel. "Our Luxon guests are landing."

"Yes, Countess, I see them." Quirinus commented.

"I don't know what game they're playing but one of their Flights decided to get all showy and put all their attention on me."

"You don't say," my squadron commander drawled. She obviously was watching the tactical situation.

"With their attention on my Flight, I suspect another Flight, one further out, could get an excellent target lock on the Anupets, and the rest of their squadron. Provided our negotiation partners had less than pure interests."

Quirinus laughed. "See how far the jackals follow you."

"Understood," I stated and after relaying my orders started to leisurely corkscrew down in altitude.

This would just so happen to take us past LZ 1 near the resort, and the rest of the Luxon assets. And our descent was slow enough that it could not be provocative.

The bright and shiny Luxon Flight kept their hover but did start to slowly drop to keep their relative position

Which suited me just fine.

The Scarab's wings had folded back a bit as it settled down. Its hull was mostly a grey that shifted between glossy and matt with golden tracery and crimson trim.

The side doors and rear ramp had opened and....

Well...

"That is a lot of Janissaries," VioletBlood noted.

I had to agree it was maybe a good platoon worth of Luxon heavy infantry.

And they were in a neat line formation against the more distributed group of Imperial Legionaries.

They wore a grey-green armor of heavy torso sections and thigh armor over a semi-rigid bodysuit that nearly covered their entire bodies. Their helmets were full-visored and adorned with light enhancing and heat detecting systems.

Meanwhile Legion Lorica was a segmented composite that was very strong but was built for flexibility and to allow for wings. Weight was also an issue. As armor and kit that were too heavy to fly were useless for a BlackSkyvian Legionary.

On the other hand, the Janissary kit cared little for that requirement.

Their weapons were a bit bulkier, which was saying a lot as the Legionaries carried Mark 36 battle rifles. The Mark 36 was a solid piece of simplified engineering that had a collapsing wood and brass stock and was relatively compact, but it was still an infantry weapon designed to be carried by a demoness and fired a rather powerful cartridge.

Luxon Janissaries did not have to worry about flight. And thus they had thicker and heavier armor, and when compared to the generally slight and feminine forms of Legionaries were bulky and muscular.

And almost all male. And nearly to a man taller than our Legionaries and thickly muscled and maybe twice their mass. And unlike our troops they had not engaged their camouflage systems.

Unusually for a Great House, Luxon made use of humans as front line combatants.

"So, those are human soldiers," Octavia noted.

"The idea has merit," I said. From my past lives I knew humans were perfectly lethal and capable soldiers. And when armed with modern weapons they were just as lethal as a demon.

"Really?"

"Why not?" I asked. "Yes they're weaker than us, at least pound for pound. They can't heal as quick as us, and their senses aren't as good. But a lot of that can be mitigated by medics, and their helmet sensors. And besides you don't need demonic powers to run a set of anti-aircraft guns or drive a tank. And they can pull a rifle trigger just as well as we can."

"But they can't fly," Octavia countered.

"That is a mobility hit, especially in urban combat, and for air deployment," I allowed as I continued to keep an eye on the Luxon, both on the ground and in the air.

"But that frees them up," GreyDawn noted. "If they did not have to worry about their soldiers having gear light enough to fly with, then they can carry more weight. Have heavier armor, more kit, more weapons."

"Right. But even with strength enhancements Janissaries would be limited in how far they could march. And since humans can already drive vehicles... Hence mechanized infantry."

"Don't look down on them just because they're human," GreyDwan warned Octavia and VioletBlood. "They're some of the most motivated troops Luxon has. They have every reason to perform their best."

House Luxon was in many ways the most artistic, cultured, creative, and indulgent of the Great Houses. Even by Diyu standards, they were decadent and socially stratified. And while they were expansionist, they did value their oaths, especially to those who gave service to the House. For long and despite their population and size, they had been the "Sick Woman of Diyu" but after a series of reforms their star had risen, which was a contributing factor to their invasion of House Vualia.

Being a human in house Luxon was to functionally be a serf, under the... protection of one noble family or another. Unless... you joined the Janissaries, then you and your family would be under the authority, and aegis, of High Lady Luxon herself.

It was also a way for any Luxon, Lady, citizen, or serf to escape debt. And, technically, a cruel mistress. All they had to do was make it to a Janissary recruiting post and declare their intention to serve and their mistress had to let them and their immediate family go.

The cynic in me approved of how this was a way High Lady Luxon could ensure her subordinates were not too cruel with their serfs, and when they were she would be able to take them as her own personal force.

"I also heard they make good pilots," VioletBlood said.

"I didn't think Janissaries were turned?" Octavia asked.

"I mean driving things like their Scarabs and bombers."

"There are demonic Janissaries," GreyDawn stated.

"And not just their officers?"

"Yeah, some demons will enlist in; those with bad debts. Kinda beats the alternatives there," GreyDawn admitted.

In a significant way, the Janissaries were a relief valve for Luxon's lowest classes: both human and demon. No matter how bad things could get, one always had that option. Which, given how I had ended up in the military in my second life, was a bit cynical even for me.

Yes, the greater your debt, the longer your term of service in the Janissaries would be, but the points off their debt would be adjusted for acts of valor and skill. One could even retire from the service with a nest egg, a pocket full of connections, and the permit to start a business.

And naturally the most physically and martially capable got the heavy infantry posts, which accrued the most "points" of Janissary service. But one did not need to be very large to be part of a vehicle crew, and that came with plenty of "glory". Not to mention the vast number of support posts.

Even if you died in the service, not at all unlikely, your family would be taken care of. It was not much, but a cleared debt, barracks housing and access to the mess, primary education, and opportunities for paid work on base was better than most Luxon serfs got. And they would be given first slots into joining the Janissaries on their own.

It was not much, but it was a way for social advancement and respectability. Which showed that Luxon might be ruthless, but even they understood that the lowest had to have some hope and some measure of recourse and self determination.

"Those Ritual Plate might be Janissaries?" Octavia asked.

"Sure, they might have even been born human. Maybe got wounded in battle. House Luxon isn't gonna waste talent by letting you die."
That was one thing, if you got mortally wounded as a Janissary, and an officer was around, and she wanted a new daughter.... that was that. It was part of the deal when you signed up.

Things were more flexible if your wounds merely crippled you. And it gave the wounded Janissary more time to find a patron, if they so wished. Even being medically discharged was not the end of service, as there were plenty of rear echelon and depot positions that could be filled.

Still in a society as stratified as House Luxon, the Janissaries were an option, one of the few, of advancement for the lowest. It was also an exploit as the Janissaries were seen as High Lady Luxon's boys. And were among her more favored and loyal troops. I had to admire the patronage system she had set up and maintained by honoring her commitments to them. I could also take issue with how she exploited a system that enabled her to purchase loyalty on the cheap.

"Thing is we're in Ritual Plate, so odds are good you won't even know if the Luxon ground forces shooting up at you are human or not," I said.

In a way, it was fascinating to see the divergence in ways to do "shock infantry". House Luxon went with a heavy mechanized infantryman with weighty armor, kit, and direct support by armored personnel carriers, infantry fighting vehicles, or landers.

For the most part, Luxon Janissaries were a force that was deployed a somewhat short distance from a garrison, ship, or base and had a heavy logistical footprint. Luxon weapons were powerful but maintenance, and parts, heavy.

Meanwhile, House BlackSky went with a paratrooper doctrine of a very high mobility infantry unit with flight capability, air transport, and extensive air support.

There was some crossover. Janissaries were often deployed via Scarabs, such as this case but they would perform best with vehicular support. And House BlackSky had Storm Legions which consisted of eight Vestal Scout tanks, four Lavin battle tanks and forty-eight Triarii infantry fighting vehicles. That gave a full cohort of mechanized infantry, plus two Cohorts that could be moved on Umbra medium VTOLs.

A BlackSkyvian legion, a Storm Legion could be deployed entirely via air. Though that would require a fair number of Gladius and Pugio Heavy VTOLs.

"And there go the Luxon diplomats," VioletBlood noted, watching the group of figures leave the resort complex and head to the line of Janissaries. They then talked with their officer. She wore the same style of heavy-armored uniform, save there were slots for her tail and wings, and her helmet had ports for her horns.

"Yeah, no one else wears that much gold," Octavia noted. "Huh, is it smart for the officers to look that way? Kinda make it obvious who the important targets are."

"They hide their wings, horns, and tail, in battle," GreyDawn stated. "In combat they look like just a big female Janissary, unless you get close enough to smell them, and even that's hard with those masks."

"Good sign for us then. Means they don't think this is a fight, at least with us," I stated.

"Could be why that flight sent a message," GreyDawn indicated the Anupet Ritual Plate who made their presence very well known and were standing guard over the Janissaries. "From their perspective it's got to feel like the sky is glaring at them and the spirits above are angry and not on their side."

"We are House BlackSky. That's how it's supposed to be," VioletBlood stated with the absolute confidence of a green troop.

I thought back to the demi-cohort sized formation we had shattered, well slaughtered. Anupet were good Ritual Plate, in many ways superior to the Elena models they were derived from. But still a squadron of them versus two Squadrons of Household Fleet and Imperial Legion? Not to mention three more squadrons from our Light Carrier.

"More reason for them to behave," I stated and sipped some water. I was perfectly happy to watch a rival House bundle up their diplomats.

"Everyone take a drink," I then ordered. Hydration was vital and easy to lose track of.

The Luxon delegation passed a few comments with the BlackSkyvian negotiators before they boarded onto the waiting Scarab.

The Janissaries then tromped aboard and under the watchful eyes of the Anupet squadron the transport's wings extended and the craft took off.

The Flight that had been eying us bowed their heads, engaged their camouflage and took the trailing position of their escort.

"The jackals seem to like you," VioletBlood noted.

"Lovely," I stated. "Let's get to a higher altitude. Don't think that with the Luxon delegation heading home that things are getting easier for us."

++++++

My frustration grew. More than enough time had passed for us to evacuate all our people. And indeed the bulk of our negotiation team, and even the Alecton delegation, had been pulled out.

But instead of withdrawing Legionaries, our Umbra Mediums were depositing heavy equipment. The Garuda's Nyx stealth scout, two Nymph utility transports, and our single Arachne artillery system had all had to be ferried to the ground.

The Arachne system consisted of one self propelled golem walker with a 4.9 in, 124 mm diameter, 44 caliber barrel. The golem had to ground itself before firing, but its multi-legged design gave it fair speed and good mobility over questionable terrain.

Each artillery piece was accompanied by a quartet of Marius Mules to carry shells, supplies for the six crew, and at least one was equipped with a Minerva rotary cannon or a Vel Missile launcher. There was a wheeled version of the Arachne that could be towed behind a Nymph which would also serve as an ammo transport.

Normally, the Arachne was deployed in a Tormenta of 4 guns which gave at least some salvo fire capability and allowed for the consolidation of Mules for defense and to get a resupply chain going. The Arachne were designed to fire a few rounds then get upright and scoot to a new location. An Arachne Battery consisted of three Tormenta and with the right arcane ammunition and artillery spotters could take out a good range of targets.

However...

"What good is just one Arachne?" VioletBlood asked. We were in a somewhat reserve position providing some air security over the Landing Zones.

I shrugged. "Well, it gave a bit of extra firepower. And more than that, they brought some more Mules."

"Yeah, that's more useful for moving stuff around," VioletBlood admitted.

"More than that. They're adding yet more anti-air platforms to the defenses the two Centuries were putting around the Resort," I countered.

VioletBlood made a noncommittal noise.

The nice thing about sticking an eight shot launcher on a Mule was the relatively small combat walker could be put in various positions separated from their scrying targeting systems, and if the Mule was killed by counter-fire then at least no lives would be lost.

"Look at it this way, between the Harmonia Squadrons the Fleet has put up, us, and the Vel missile umbrella there's three layers of anti air protection for our Legionaries." I explained. "Any assaulting squadron will have to burn through a lot of defenses."

"Don't discount the HFV Vajra," VioletBlood countered.

I had to agree. The Vajra only carried eighteen torpedoes, but a good fraction of them were interceptors and warding variants designed for fleet and ground defense both taking out large enemy air assaults and fast-mover munitions. "Good point. We've got four layers."

One of our Nymphs had a Vel missile system, the other had a Minerva rotary cannon in the cramped one-person turret in front. Cramped described the Nymph rather well. In both tracked and wheeled variants, it was a light thin-skinned vehicle that could carry about three tons or cargo or twelve Legionaries. Its armor, such as it was, and warding were good against small arms, shell fragments, arcane splash-over, and some heavier machine gun fire.

But the Nymph was not intended as a front line combatant, it was more of a utility vehicle that could move supplies and troops in rear to front roles. It was also light enough, and small enough that an Umbra could just barely fit two of them.

Which made it a go-to vehicle for formations that only had Medium and smaller VTOLs.

As a logistics utility vehicle, the little Nymph did that job well enough. Intentions were nice and all, but unless Legionaries landed with an Armor Cohort then their ground vehicular options would be limited to Nymphs and Mules. At least Nymphs were fast enough to not be complete death traps.

"What I don't get is why they brought down the Nymphs and that Nyx?" I asked.

VioletBlood made a thoughtful noise.

The Nyx was based on the Nymph but was a more expensive design. It had a far more advanced camouflage system that bordered on true Veiling and a suite of sensors and scrying systems. With a viewing cupola in the back, it made for a rather handy low-profile scouting vehicle.

It did not have quite the same storage capacity as the Nymph, but it could still work as a deployment of forward scouts or a stealthy resupply vehicle.

"Well," she said after a moment, "We've got spare drop capacity and time, and they're not doing anything positive up on the Garuda so why not bring them down?"

I sighed. Right, up on the airship they were just ballast, down here they were another tool for the Legionnaires to use. "I suppose, and worst case we can just scuttle them when we evacuate."

That our command had decided to bring an indirect fire platform, various supply vehicles, a scouting vehicle, and more supplies did give more options and support for the Legionaries who had landed.

But... it also implied an intention to stay and worse..

"Maybe Task Force 403 will be making a landing? They've got a whole Cohort of Legionaries," VioletBlood voiced the same worry I had.

"That would really expand things."

"Do you think there's enough enemies to justify that?" she asked.

I sighed at the eagerness in her voice. She had just helped me kill over a hundred irregulars and now she wanted more? I would have to make sure my Bloody Baroness of a wingwoman did not get out of control.

"While this area is a mess of factions and enemies, we don't even know why that group was marching up to attack us nor how many allies they have."

VioletBlood made a chagrined noise.

Fortunately, I was her superior both in military rank and social status now. Plus she somehow thought I was more bloodthirsty than she was.

I gave a noncommittal response then checked in with the rest of my Flight.

A couple minutes later my squadron commander's voice cut in. "Tauria, status?" Prefect Centurion Magnus Quirinus.

"LZ overwatch, and reserve. Systems green," I replied.

"Morale good?"

"Sure, our baroness is ready to get a few more scalps, and Octavia is in awe of her noble comrade's blood lust."

"Do tell." From Quirinus' tone she was familiar with the challenges of having to hold back eager, war-crazy subordinates. She did have experience training Cadets: who even by Legionary Flier standards were motivated and eager to fight.

"Good," she stated. "Scouting Pilots have found something ominous to the north east. Sending you the coordinates now. Vajra has already got a firing solution, but we want some close-in recon. I trust you understand the risks and you won't do any showboating?" she rhetorically asked.

"Of course," I agreed. It was nice to have a superior who was sensible.

Switching channels, I ordered my flight to take off in the heading.

"It's that bad?" I asked my commander.

"Yeah, maybe that's why the brass horns have decided to keep us around playing diplomats," the irritation dripped off her words.

"Maybe this is us showing BlackSkyvian diplomacy?" I lightly offered. We did have a reputation for bellicosity and swift reprisals.

Quirinus gave a bitter laugh. "Well, I'll let you know when Task Force 403 starts bombarding the city."

"I appreciate that," I stated with a suppressed sigh. Even my sensible superiors were battle maniacs. I suppose this was what happened when members of an empathic species made war.

Still, compared to spotting for a Destroyer, a Medium Air Trinity was a whole other level of power.

The HFV Vajra was a Mace Class destroyer with eighteen Fujiwara Aerial torpedoes. The Fujiwara was the big gun of the Fleet and for a ground target to warrant such attention was not a good sign.

Ritual Plate in ground attack configuration could take out some rather impressive targets, especially if deployed in squadrons. And even harder targets could have a Telephe Strike thrown at them. Torpedoes tended to be reserved for the largest targets or the most well defended or both.

I looked over the preliminary intel. "Oh. I see. "

"The Luxon delegation assured us that neither that Horus artillery battery nor that mechanized infantry formation is theirs. I suppose it's good they're still talking to us," she added, darkly.

"That's practically a full on Mechanized Infantry Battalion. A small one yes, but if we kill that and a heavy artillery battery someone is going to be upset," I pointed out.

"You are probably right, Tauria." My commander sighed.

"No complaints on my end, just pointing it out," I assured.

"I'm vectoring Mercy's Flight to provide backup for you and to help cover some scouting nonsense the Legionnaires have been ordered to do. RavenSnow's lot are doing some other busy work with a recovery op."

"Appreciate it," I stated. "Whose are they then? That's a lot of kit for irregulars, unless they just raided a depot. I don't think Luxon would let us bombard their forces as part of some plot, too wasteful. And they don't seem to be Alecton equipment. And Vualia wouldn't let us bombard their own troops on their territory."

"Assuming that those are still House Vualia forces," Quirinus stated. "Good luck. Get there within thirty. Out,"

Lovely. Maybe this was some sort of civil war in House Vualia and we had been drafted to clean up. I switched to my Flight channel. "Okay girls, we've got another job, this time Fleet's going to do all the heavy lifting."

I sent them the intel package.

"That's a lot of guns," Octavia noted.

"Luxon doctrine is fifteen guns to the battery. The imagery is fragmentary but I would not be surprised if they have plenty of support vehicles. The Horus is a big self-propelled gun and those Crocodile IFVs are thirsty beasts," I agreed.

"We can expect Hathor anti-air guns and defending Ritual Plate, then?" GreyDawn asked.

"Scouting Pilots did not get close enough to confirm," I said.

"That many asses in the field..." GreyDawn countered. She did not need to continue. Concentrating your forces, invited well... the exact kind of attack we were conducting.

"If these were Luxon regulars, sure," I merrily agreed. "But I have been assured that the Luxon delegation, our dear partners in peace, have disavowed this formation. Which could explain a lack of air support."

"There has been relatively few enemy Ritual Plate," VioletBlood noted.

That was true, there had been some fights against a few pilots in second-hand Alecto models that still bore defaced Vualia livery. Prefect RavenSnow's squadron took them out, giving them heavy casualties; their survivors fleeting back to Ortov.

I was suspicious that someone might be holding back their Ritual Plate forces. That little city was going to be a mess. Ritual Plate's small footprint made it trivial to hide them in urban environments and ambushes were common.

Thankfully our target was many miles to the east of Ortov.

"Ma'am, is command's theory that irregulars managed to get a battery of Luxon self propelled artillery and a mechanized battalion of IFVs?" GreyDawn asked.

I double-checked the intelligence. "It's entirely possible these are last generation Horus artillery pieces and the Crocodile has been in service for a long time. These might even date to before the invasion, back when Vualia bought military hardware from Luxon and Alecto."

GreyDawn made a noncommittal noise.

I had to admit it was a weak argument. My guess was that someone had been getting support from both Luxon and Vualia. And then when their perfidy was exposed both sides hung them out to dry. Course, this then left a rather heavily armed war lady with nothing to lose. And if she, her equipment, and a lot of people had to be taken care of? Well.. that was how it went.

War was such a waste.

My flight flew past Ortov, fortunately at a wide enough berth to avoid any enemy fire. Though the city's airspace seemed reasonably peaceful. Aside from some minor VTOL activity.

"We're approaching the area, I want you to stay out of range of any air defenses and keep on the lookout for enemy Ritual Plate," I ordered. "We're just here to confirm the target composition and location."

I got pings of affirmation.

"VioletBlood and I will use our Gorgon rigs to get targeting info. GreyDawn you and Octavia will be further back and higher; your job is to watch out for enemy air assets."

I updated our vector to an oblique to the target to maintain range.

And there they were.

The enemy formation was on the far side of a hill and had spread out in some farmland adjacent to a roadway and were just at the edge of some woods

It was not a great place to be but it put them within range of shelling Ortov.

We were many miles away and without my gorgon rig the vehicles would just be specks, but with the enhanced scrying capability it was just possible to make out their formation.

That was a battery of Mark 3 Horus artillery pieces. In Luxon doctrine, the self-propelled guns were heavily armored and used metal-sheathed crystalline barrels as energy projectors. One spare was clipped to each side of their hulls and even at this distance the heat vents on their back decks shimmered.

They were powerful rather long ranged beasts, but were resource intensive to keep fielded. I wondered who they had been firing at.

Corralled in with them were boxy supply vehicles and fuel browsers. While House BlackSky used compact, if energetic fuel cells, house Luxon preferred to use an alchemical slurry that was more efficient for the greater power requirements of arcane energy based weapon platforms.

"Amateur act?" VioletBlood asked as she added to our composite data feed. "Fuel tankers too close in, Crocodiles too far out, Hathors clustered together. And way to many dismounted troops. Are they going to occupy this area or take a lunch break?"

I swept my attention over the block and wedge-style troop carriers with their slab-like turrets with stubby guns. It was hard to make out details but... "Those... they're not Janissaries."

That was... reassuring. I had no objection to killing the enemy, but if given a choice between irregulars or maybe traitors, and some serf-soldiers working to get some scrap of status and security for their families...

I knew which one I would prefer.

"Yeah, all have wings and tails, no one's big enough." VioletBlood confirmed. "Luxon regular army?"

"Wrong uniforms, and those vehicles are old." I exhaled. Maybe these were just some very well-supplied irregulars. "And I'm only seeing a few Hathor anti air guns and..."

I stared.

VioletBlood's disbelief joined mine.

"That's two flights of Alecton Archer Ritual Plate, waiting on the ground."

"Maybe they're waiting for maintenance?"

"Maybe," I allowed. The Archer was Alecto's budget export model. Ostensibly, a Multi-role, it was really just an armed trainer. That said, it was inexpensive, by Ritual Plate standards, and capable enough, as long as your enemies did not have Ritual Plate of their own, or not very many.

"GreyDawn?" I asked.

"Confirm. We're detecting about a Squadron of Archers. They're rather close in at a low altitude. I'd say they're worried about Luxon RP sneaking in via the tree-line. Most of their attention is to the north.

"Shame," I noted. "You alert me the second their attention comes our way."

At our distance, with our tiny size and low visibility we would be hard to detect, especially if the enemy was not even looking in our direction.

I switched to a command channel and dialed into Fleet Ops. "Diamond Flight Actual with targeting information for HFV Vajra." As much as I was irked by my last name being shortened that way.. still... as callsigns went Diamond was far better than Pixie.

"We got you, Diamond," the cool voice I had thought of as Flight Ops said as she switched channels.

"This is Vajra," a clipped woman's voice stated. "Go ahead, Diamond."

"Relaying package." As the targeting location went over the thaumaturgical link I then verbally confirmed the coordinates. I did not want to have the bombardment fail because someone transposed a few numbers.

There was a low whistle. "Really? Clumped up like that."

"Yes, I can see why you were skeptical of the scouting report, but I've got eyes on them right now." I kept my voice calm.

"Hold your hat, Diamond; we're updating the targeting package now. You're gonna get a great view."

I kept in a shiver. Missileers and artillerists could get a detached view about the nature of their jobs and the carnage they released. This Telum Centurion sounded much the same, relishing the chance to erase a significant enemy force. Better that than directing her fire on civilian infrastructure.

For my part, I had to agree with her. But that was out of self interest, I would much rather have a large munition dropped on my enemies from miles away than have to fight them myself.

However the crew on the Vajra were over three hundred miles away. Which was close in terms of airship combat, intermediate in terms of Ritual Plate combat, but far in terms of ground combat.

"Wait, updating?"

The Telum Centurion gave a chuckling purr. "We launched three torpedoes twenty minutes ago."

That was why my squadron commander had given me a time limit. These madwomen had already launched a bombardment. Granted, they had preliminary intel and approval from Luxon.

"When are they going to impact?"

"Five minutes. In two hundred, eighty-five seconds at... mark. Requesting live access to your Gorgon rig."

"Setting up a link now." Ah, of course, these maniacs wanted a front row seat. They even had a tactical excuse as the feed from our Gorgon rigs would give them moment to moment targeting information.

To be fair, sending a live link back to Flight Ops, or an airship vectoring in Torpedoes or other assets was the designed role of the Gorgon Rig. And why it was made as a supplement to the normal scrying systems.

Keeping abreast on the live feed did involve more work as a pilot had to keep their Gorgon rig focused on the targets.

I then switched to the Flight channel. "VioletBlood, arrange to have your scrying data routed to the Vajra, they want a live feed for their targeting. Everyone else look alive, we've got a bombardment incoming.

"I'm putting up a clock. this will knock off a hornet's nest and we may have to fight some enemy RP or pick off survivors."

I then reactivated the Vajra channel. I sipped some water and watched the timer went down. Given the distance and the flight time that meant these were subsonic Torpedoes.

"What's the load-out? A Gae Bulg and a Lorg Mor? What else?" I asked the Destroyer officer. Those models of Fujiwara were ground attack variants that exchanged a decrease in range for an increase in payload. The Gae Bulg was an anti-personnel model while the Lorg Mor was anti-armor.

"And a Surtalogi," she added.

"All three?" I inquired. I could understand the AP and the AT weapons but the Surtalogi, or Surtr's fire, was basically a 1,400 lb fuel-air warhead. It was really good at creating a firestorm and longer-duration pressure waves. Fuel-air bombs were good at taking out soft targets and tunnel systems. For a destroyer with a fairly small Torpedo magazine it was a bit to have one in the magazine, unless the Vajra was carrying a sampler just in case.

"Correct Diamond. That's why we wanted you up there giving us telemetry. We have to make the most of this. Thanks for having your wingwoman add hers. Not many Flights go with two Gorgon Rigs."

"Glad to be a help," I demurred. Personally, I wanted more Flights to have at least two. I knew the counter arguments: the normal scrying system was good for combat use and even long range spotting; the Gorgon Rig was an expensive custom-fitted bit of kit; the Gorgon Rig was intended to be a broader reconnaissance platform with the intention of feeding live intel back to Flight Ops; the Gorgon Rig requires a lot of pilot skill in multi tasking to use to its fullest.

To all of those, I would say that the Ritual Plate was already very expensive and had a lot of custom-fit components. And it did not matter what the intention of the design, or how hard it was to use to its fullest. It was a scrying suite improvement that would give us an edge in battle.

Though I could understand the cost aspect. In my second life most of the Empire's aerial mages used the Type 13 Standard Computation Orb, which was a single core model that was functional enough. I was cursed with that one-off quad-core Type 95. Meanwhile my 203rd aerial mages used the production dual core Type 97.

Thus I could understand limiting the more expensive kit to a given unit. But that was the point, the whole of the 203rd had Type 97s.

And yes a supplementary sensor system was not the same as a computation orb in scope, but I thought this was a foolish attempt at cost savings.

Tension rose as the timer clicked down.

I managed to keep it under control. These were ground vehicles; even if they started running right now, they could not get far. And as long as my Flight survived, we could simply update the target point.

The smart thing would be to disperse themselves. Split up and go in many directions. But that was a survival tactic against a Torpedo bombardment. Against Ritual Plate, splitting up your defenses might be counter productive.

There was also a chance that the Gae Bulg, Lorg Mor, or Surtalogi might be intercepted. They were only traveling at three-quarters the speed of sound and were going a fair distance.

The Fujiwara Torpedo used air spirits as well. However instead of using Zephyr spirits for propulsion they used Notus spirits for guidance. In reality, the Notus stayed back on the launching airship and guided the massive missile in via thaumaturgical links between the spirits' sanctum and the control and scrying systems in the nosecone.

After the Torpedo was expended Telum Ritualista could then bond the Notus with a fresh Torpedo. That procedure took a bit of time, but was more on the scale of minutes than hours.

If the link was jammed, a very difficult proposal but possible, there was a more primitive analog guidance system but accuracy and control markedly decreased.

Key to this was that a Notus spirit was not expended with every Torpedo launch. On the contrary, like a Zephyr, a Notus could gain power and experience with each use. From a human resources, well spiritual resources standpoint, I appreciated giving air spirits fulfilling work and allowing them to grow in skill.

Though that did mean that the Telum Centurions and their supporting Ritualista gunners, bonded with spirits who liked lobbing high speed explosives at people.

"Sky is still clear, no one seems to be aware about our little launch," the Telum Centurion tried to sound reassuring.

We had faster Torpedoes, ones that traveled well above supersonic, but they had a much shorter range. Which was part of why the Hasta Torpedo bomber was so useful.

The two-tone chime of a Torpedo bombardment went off in my ears.

And then the entire enemy artillery and troop position was consumed in fire and overlapping explosions. The Gae Bulg and Lorg Mor were devastating weapons that both used sub-munitions. Meanwhile the Surtalogi had a big tank of a flammable alchemical medium with a charge that would spread the fuel out to a stoichiometric mix with the surrounding air before igniting it.

An ugly column of grey smoke came up from the conflagrations which itself lit up the night. Secondary explosions were massive as munitions, arcane storage, and fuels cooked off. Technically some of those would be tertiary explosions as the fuel browsers had blown a fraction of a second after the strike.

House BlackSky's reputation for bellicosity was not unwarranted.

The Gae Bulg carried over a hundred and fifty Sentis sub-munitions. Each of which had about five pounds of explosives per barbed sub-munition. Particularly experienced Notus spirits could conduct the terminal guidance of the various sub-munitions as they launched.

By contrast, the Lorg Mor only had thirty-six hardened Plumbata penetrators. These sub-munitions had explosive backs that helped them pierce through warding and armor.

And with the feed from two Gorgon Rigs, those happy, eager to please, air spirits would be delighted to show off and aim those Plumbata penetrators to individual vehicles and those Sentis sub-munitions to the largest concentrations of people.

And immediately after those two, the Surtalogi detonated about three-quarters of a ton of alchemically-treated explosive fuel that had been dispersed, too fast to see, into a cloud over the target area. The ignition of that much explosives spread out into that much area created a massive conflagrating wump.

It was a comprehensive and multi-layered attack. Part of me wanted to ask why they didn't just lob a few Galatine high explosive Torpedoes. Though, it probably would have taken six of those to do the job. And the Vajra did not have that big of a magazine.

"Battle damage assessment?" Telum Centurion asked.

"You can see my damn feed!" I shouted back, my self control momentarily slipping. That was the point of this link. I winced; I knew I had to be as enthusiastic as they were. "You better reward those spirits for some great shooting! That's a clean sweep on Horus and Hathor artillery pieces."

"I'm reading at least three-quarters of Crocodiles here destroyed, the rest seem to be mission kills." VioletBlood paused. "Infantry casualties are... high. We may have to wait for the fires to die down to see who survived. At least some were in the outer perimeter."

"Ritual Plate status?" I asked the other two in my Flight.

"Archer suits on the ground are gone," GreyDawn flatly said. "Half of those on overwatch are buzzing about in a panic looking for where this came from. The other half went to the ground to try to find... survivors."

A noble effort, but a waste of air power resources. Unless someone of real high value was commanding that formation "I think we've worn out our welcome," I stated.

"Good shooting Vajra," I transmitted as I shut down my Gorgon link with the Destroyer.

"Good scouting, Diamond Flight," she replied as I adjusted our vector.

I upped our speed as we dashed back. Even with some support from Mercy Flight we were far out to the North east from the rest of our forces.

"Good work everyone," I said over the Flight channel. "I know it's not as glamorous as getting our own claws wet but we helped take out an artillery battery and a mechanized infantry battalion with no losses to our side. I call that a win."

I was not actually sure about that. Yes, we took no losses, but was that a wise use of resources? The massive cost of three Fujiwara torpedoes aside, the Vjra only had eighteen total. Fifteen now. And only a fraction of those would be ground support variants.

I had us adjust our vector as we started to go around Ortov.

There was then a harsh chime over the command channel, that was the tone used for Search and Rescue. "All Flights. All Flights, we have a Spatha down. I repeat we have a Spatha down. Coordinates are as follows."

Updating my map display I swore. That was right in the south side of Ortov in a pretty populated area of the city.

"Why in DarkStar's name is a lone light VTOL in a hostile urban area?" I murmured under my breath. I swallowed my worry.

There was a covenant between VTOL Pilots and Ritual Plate Pilots. We escorted them on combat drops whenever possible. And if we were downed, they would come to try to rescue us. Pilot recovery was a key duty of the Spatha Light VTOLs every Ritual Plate carrier had.
"This is Diamond Actual, my fight is Passing by Ortov," I transmitted. "What happened?"

"A Spatha was doing a recovery operation; their escorting Fleet RP got jumped by enemy Ritual Plate," Flight Ops said. I could hear a tiny bit of strain in her normally cool voice. "They saw them off but took losses and then ground fire tagged the VTOL. We have footage of survivors on the ground."

I swore. Doing air support and survivor recovery in a hostile urban area was a nightmare. But there was no way I could avoid this. "Confirm. We're going in."

"Understood, Diamond. We're trying to get a VTOL vectored in but understand that enemy Ritual Plate has increased activity over the city."

This time my swear was silent. "Prefect Quirinus."

"Yes," My squadron leader replied.

"I'm calling in that offer with Mercy's Flight."

"Whatever you need."

I thought. With only four people securing the crash site would be the critical duty. "If you can have her and even your own Flight run interference on enemy Ritual Plate that would be appreciated."

"I'll see what I can do. You won't be alone out there, but you may have to get creative," Quirinus stated.

I felt a pain behind my forehead. Creative, in urban combat. Lovely.

"Unfortunately, it looks like you were right, blowing up that artillery position set off everything and we've got our hands full."

I swore for a third time.

"Quite right, Countess," came my commander's wry reply.

I took a second to compose myself then switched to my Flight channel. At least now my trio of warmongers would get to sate their bloodlust up close and personal.

End Chapter 7

Well I had some plans for what to do after this battle that would be at the end of ch7.

But as you can guess the fighting ended up running a bit longer.

Though I'm not sure there is too much objection to having more combat.
I have been doing revision work, starting with the prologue and first chapter, and have plans for the glossary and character list.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

From the great ScittyKitty have have some art!

Full size.


Poor Tauria realizing that being a duchess's daughter requires some formal functions where she can't get away with wearing her uniform.

Heavy is the Preserver Crown on our little Countess.


PS: Ch8 is going very well. I'm starting the final combat scene. And while I could put up a 8,500 word chapter that ends on a cliffhanger. I think folks might want to wait a bit more to have a fuller arc for the chapter. Or maybe I could have what I have now as ch8.

Plusan ending scene with a familiar POV shift.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 8: And Kill Them Part 1


Rescue missions and urban combat make for a frustrating combination.

A Spatha Light VTOL had gone down over southern Ortov and my Flight had been sent in. The situation could be worse. Myself and my three pilots were in the upper three quarters on both power and munition levels.

Of our two combat sorties, one was a strafing mission over enemy infantry, with some anti-air support, and the other was bombardment spotting. The latter did not require us to fire any of our own weapons, merely provide intel and targeting telemetry for a Fujiwara aerial Torpedo strike.

Given all that, we were maybe seventy-percent left on our anti-infantry Falx projectors. Though we were at maybe eighty-percent on average for our anti-armor Pilum projectors. And were still on a full load of our anti-arcane Verutum launchers. Additionally, my capacitor earrings were still at a full charge.

The map display showed the location of where the Spatha had gone down. It... could be worse. Though it could be a lot better.

"Spatha Two. Spatha Two. This is Diamond Flight. We are coming to your position. What is your status?" I asked over the channel the Light Carrier's Spatha Flight used.

There was a hash of distortion and a clipped signal.

"Diamond Flight, good to hear you! We are pinned down. Returning fire." There was a squelch and then the sound of gunfire. The VTOL pilot, if that was who she was, sounded ragged.

I ordered my Flight to go at full dash speed. It made us more visible as we raced over the city which was a calculated risk. "Understood, we are coming in forty-five." Can you designate targets? How many are alive? How many can fly under their own power?"

There was a bitter laugh. "Cockpit took a lot of damage Diamond Flight. I'm on backup comms. We've got five survivors. Myself and the VIP are okay. Of the Legionaries their medico has a bad leg, but she can fly. Another is unconscious, maybe stable. Last one got shrapnel through her wings."

I winced. "Are the injured movable? Is anyone pinned by wreckage?" The numbers were not good, but there were still options.

"Nobody alive, Diamond Flight," She tersely replied. There was the sound of some sort of grenade going off.

"Even just a direction incoming fire is coming from can help."

The Ventus Centurion laughed. "I can do better. Ready Diamond?"

I gave confirmation and she started reading off coordinates and strengths, which I populated onto the map. It was all vague and she paused to get confirmation from the other survivors.

But that allowed for me to split my attention and share the targeting data with the rest of my Flight and outline my plan.

++++++

The downed VTOL was part of HFV Syracuse, a Damocles Light Carrier's Spatha Flight. Coming down in a plaza in the south-western Ortov, the pilot had tried to make a landing, but the Spatha laid halfway onto a shattered fountain on its left side, with one engine nacelle burst wreckage while the other had been torn off with its wing and lay under the aircraft.

Well... the Ventus Centurion had gotten most of her passengers down alive.

Getting them out was now our job.

The plaza might have been nice once. The fountain's center-piece was some abstract thing. The night hour did not help but the whole place had a desperate shabbiness to it, like an old garment worn thin by too many washes. Though I suppose the city was close to the occupied zone.

True to the VTOL Pilot's description, the Spatha was under fire from there sides.

Down a broad avenue to the north was sporadic gunfire. To the east shots were coming from the second floor of what looked like a soul-less concrete apartment block. That was where the surviving Legionaries had put most of their fire to suppress the enemy. According to the pilot, they had started out with some sort of heavy machine gun, but after the first gunner and then the replacement gunner were killed the enemy had been more circumspect. An alleyway to the south also was the source of some potshots, but was fairly quiet.

The whole plaza was empty and had more than a few abandoned and burning cars. The intersections around the crash site seemed to be blocked, though there were a few Vualian civil authority vehicles that looked to be caught between containing the scene and keeping the populace held back.

Either way, they were neither rendering aid nor attacking, and my orders were prioritizing getting our people out. At the moment, I still had no idea who was behind this attack, insurrection, civil war, coup or whatever it was.

That was above my pay grade. My concern was the status of the survivors and that of certain buildings around the plaza. The evening sky was starting to cloud over, reflecting some of the fires that had started in the rest of the city.

"Mark targets, Violet," I ordered as I continued to check out our surroundings. There was what might have been a terraced office building that had promise.

The four of us raced in at near full velocity as blocks swept past below us. The picture ahead became clearer with each instant as VioletBlood did her work. The sudden stop was going to be painful but vital.

"Got it!" VioletBlood said as the suspected markers the Spatha Pilot gave me changed from yellow to red. At least two of the sets of markers.

Sustained fire started to come out of that apartment. I guess they found someone willing to take up that heavy machine gun.

"Confirm! I take the apartment; you take the avenue." I exhaled and launched a Pilum bolt into the offending building, while VioletBlood used her Falx projector to strafe the area around the roadway.

The fire from the avenue scattered while that whole apartment blew out. The Pilum was set to go through armored vehicles, so aiming at a concrete wall would cause the arcane bolt to detonate and spray concrete inside. It was not a perfect solution, but it was at hand.

I might have had greater concerns, but it was the irregulars who decided that a residential building made a good place to mount heavy weapons.

And then from that alley some sort of missile or rocket grenade was launched right at the Spatha.

VioletBlood and I swiveled to intercept, but the warhead was caught and blew apart against a shimmering, iridescent wall, projected before the downed craft. Oh, that was not a standard warding that was a bit more... psionic.

There was no time to ponder which of the survivors had extra capabilities, but that very well might be useful in the next phase of my plan.

"GreyDawn, Octavia, go!" When it came to splitting my Flight, I picked them for one simple reason. I was the shortest and lightest member of the Flight and VioletBlood was not much bigger. Their Polydora suits were less capable than the Polyxo that VioletBlood and myself wore but that was not a factor, at least in this.

Ritual Plate did give much of a strength enhancement, beyond helping bear the weight of the armored flight suit itself. Not just the weight, a fully kitted Legionary was a bulky, person-sized load. And those two members of my Flight were the tallest.

I gritted my teeth as VioletBlood and I slowed into a rolling loop over the plaza. GreyDawn and Octavia dropped right down to the VTOL.

"This is Diamond Flight!" GreyDawn said over the Spatha Pilot's and the Flight's channel. "We're here to take you out."

"Two of you?" The Spatha Pilot asked.

"We'll each take one of your wounded. The rest will fly with us."

"But we're not in flight armor," one of the legionaries said.

"I might be able to get a bit of help, some of my Zephyr survived the crash," the Spatha Pilot admitted.

"Outstanding!" I said as I fired down that alleyway. VioletBlood was to my back as we hovered over the plaza. It was a horrifically exposed position, as was intended. "We're only having you fly a short distance, you're way too exposed down there."

"Right."

"Is the VTOL ready to be scuttled?" I asked.

The pilot paused for a moment. While there was no official way to self-destruct such a craft, even a Spatha Light had enough highly power-dense fuel cells, onboard munitions, and other energetic components to make it feasible. And if your position was at risk of being overrun well... that was the prudent option.

"Yes, right after I secured the sprit sanctum," she admitted.

"Good."

"I might be able to help," a polite voice cut in as we were talking at a dinner party.

"You the psionic?" I demanded as some small arms fire bounced off my warding.

"I am."

"Wonderful!" I tried to sound sincere. That was the best place for someone with such mental powers, where they could protect the other survivors and be too far to pry into my own mind. "If you can shield or intercept any incoming, that would be appreciated. There's a terraced office building to the south. Fifth floor; that's your destination right now" I said as I sent a short Falx burst at the group that had fired on me.

A lot of the bottom floor stores of the office building were boarded up. Which I suppose was prudent in light of tonight's events. But it helped show that this place was on a desperate decline for a while.

Behind me my wingwoman sent a longer burst at whoever had fired on her. "Violet, mind your ammo use."

"I've got some signals to the north! Might be armor, might be infantry, or both," VioletBlood said.

Lovely. I glanced down and saw that GreyDawn and Octavia were each carrying a person in front of them supporting on their arms the wounded, who had their own arms around the pilot's shoulders. Though the grip of the semi-conscious Legionary was not great. And the other survivors were ready.

"We are going!" I ordered as I figured out and VioletBlood followed. The Legionaries fired themselves, launching a pair of underslung grenades.

Under the barrage, the two Ritual Plate with the heavily wounded and three survivors flew out and up.

Fire intensified around them as the irregulars opened up, but was shot down as Violet and myself used a few judicious Pilum shots to blow up obvious enemies and Falx bursts to suppress.

They flew out and across the plaza. There were a couple splashes of iridescent power as Octavia, GreyDawn and the psion formed wards around the Spatha Pilot and the Legionary medico who could still fly. The VTOL pilot was also carrying a bulky cylinder on a shoulder strap which was probably some sort of spirit sanctum.

Her own Zephyr were helping push the group faster than normal unpowered flight speed.

When it became clear that they were leaving the plaza, VioletBlood and I dropped back and turned to cover their escape.

I gave a bit of relief when the survivors landed on the terrace and had survivors helped secure that office building.

"VioletBlood, scuttle that VTOL," I ordered.

I could just feel VioletBlood's distaste but she complied and lined up a Pilum shot. I sympathized with her plight. Under normal circumstances, the Legions would recover the bodies of the fallen. We would probably send in an Umbra Medium to act as a sky crane and recover the Spatha Light.

But our resources were cut thin, and this city felt like it was about to rip apart at the seams. I could not justify possibly losing an even bigger VTOL with more people on it to recover this one. But that Spatha contained sensitive information, not to mention our fallen comrades.

And without any contrary orders, it was up to me. I was the commanding Centurion on the scene.

VioletBlood fired and the plaza briefly turned into day as the downed Spatha exploded.

"Flight Ops, this is Diamond Flight," I said over the command channel.

"Diamond Flight, go."

"We have five survivors from Spatha Two, including a presumed VIP. They have been moved to a more secure and elevated position. "

"That is fantastic!" emotion slipped past her normally controlled tone.

"I'm routing you with the surviving Spatha Pilot, she can give you a status on the wounded."

"Understood, I'm getting another communication officer to talk with Ventus Centurion Opal so I can keep you on the line."

I made the connections and introduction and held back and glanced at the map on my Display.

"ETA on pickup?" I asked when it was just the two of us.

There was a pause. "The situation has gotten more complex, Diamond."

I kept from swearing. Or at least I cut off my microphone for half a minute while Flight Ops explained.

"House Luxon has sent a Brigade-strength force across the border. Scouting Branch has detected integrated artillery support and a wing of Ritual Plate. Scarab VTOLs are already sending Janissaries to secure points ahead of their spearhead."

"Are they headed for Ortov?"

"Correct, they're saying they intend to provide security and help the other negotiating parties figure out where their hardware came from. Queen Vualia is... considering their request."

I gave a bitter laugh. House Vualia's defensive plans for Ortov were.... don't.

It was too small of a location, too close to the border and too easily overrun and while there was a major base of support several hundred miles to the south, it was felt that putting too many defenses in Ortov would leave them vulnerable to a concerted Luxon push.

I had my doubts about that calculus, But even if I agreed with the overall strategic picture... just the limited resources of a smaller power facing a grinding invasion from a larger power that had to deal with crumbling loyalties would make holding Ortov a tough call.

However, tacitly, nearly openly, admitting that Ortov would not be defended would upset the people who lived here. No wonder this place was a hotbed of strife.

"Have the Luxon forces said they'll engage us?"

"They're continuing to keep us informed, technically," the comms officer gave a wry chuckle. "But we're also getting more of the irregulars in Ortov taking to the air."

"Composition?"

"Multiple Squadrons of Archers and we have imagery of at least two Flights of Yeoman. They're slowly getting more organized and have realized that we'll pick them off unless they both defend their ground forces from the air and organize said aerial assets."

"Understood." I frowned. The Yeoman was one of Alecto's higher end export models of Ritual Plate. It was what House Alecto called an airspace defense model. Its main role was to protect friendly ground support Ritual Plate while being able to engage enemy suits. It had slightly reduced defense systems and more low speed agility when compared to a BlackSkyvian Harmonia but it was a reasonable suit.

It was also rather expensive compared to Alecto's other export suits, and thus was supposed to have been kept under tighter control by forces loyal to Queen Vualia. "I see."

Flight Ops chuckled. "Vualia has been making noises that this may be more than irregulars. Our consensus is this might be a form of civil war or abortive coup."

It was no coincidence that these forces rebels or irregulars were deploying their Ritual Plate now. They started off with relatively light air support and seemed to be more concerned with moving their heavy ground equipment.

Maybe they thought they could move their troops in and escalate on their terms, but then we started hitting them with Torpedoes, and Luxon crossed the border in strength. Did they not know how we would respond to provocation? Did they think they had a deal with Luxon?

And once their ground forces were being hit, they deployed their Ritual Plate. they could have kept their Ritual Plate hidden and moved them out of the city via conventional means. Maybe they still were.

But I was worried if the enemy was engaged in a sunk-cost fallacy. Some officers, those more driven by ideas of sentiment and honor, had a hard time realizing that sometimes you had to stop throwing good troops after bad.

That I was having these thoughts while engaged in a rescue mission did not escape my notice as I continued to scan over the cityscape. For the moment the office building was secure, but it was hardly a secret where the survivors had gone. "All the more reason to get these people out."

"We're getting a force ready, Diamond Flight. Good work on extraction. You are free to move them and delay enemy forces as you see fit."

"Understood," I kept the sigh in. What could I say? I ordered Spatha Two blown up because I did not want us losing another VTOL trying to recover it.

Flight Ops was taking a similar concern. A rescue force could easily need rescue of their own.

Especially with Luxon adding even more stress to the situation with their own invasion. Though Ortov would be a problem for them as well.

Unless they advanced over a broad front, Ortov would be a salient that even Vualia could surround if not fully encircle. Not to mention, Vualia's northernmost major base was within easy striking distance of Ortov.

The city was close to the border, but it was still far enough that occupying it was a poisoned chalice for Luxon. Unless Luxon was willing to push a good part of the front forward to secure the corridor between Ortov and the Occupation zone.

The situation was spiraling out of control. That Vualia was still talking with Luxon despite a major border incursion was a sign of... something.

Possibly that both the invaded Minor House and the occupying Greater House were willing to coordinate to crush these "irregulars". Which if this was a coup could mean that someone's catspaw had failed and was being cleaned up.

"Diamond Flight, after consulting with Ventus Centurion Opal as to the status of the wounded, we are giving you a reference point that should be an easier extraction. Give them time to stabilize and use your best judgment to move closer to there if you can."

As she read the coordinates and I confirmed them, I looked at the map where that location was. It was a good number of miles to the south and basically on the outskirts of the city.

A city with an airspace that was starting to get more unfriendly.

"Getting the survivors there is not required but the closer to that point the more easily recovery can be done."

"Understood," I kept in another sigh. "If we can't move them, we'll try to open up a corridor for the recovery VTOLs."

"We'll vector what support we can but-" Flight Ops' voice cut off for a moment as a city block to several miles east blew up with several buildings collapsing in on themselves as a plume of smoke and fire went into the sky.

"Diamond Flight, that was not one of ours!" Flight Ops stated the composure of her voice slipping a bit. She swore under her breath. "Diamond there's going to be some counter battery fire on our end."

Another building to the north went down.

"Ours?" I asked. there was no two-tone chime of an incoming Torpedo strike. It did not sound like Hourus artillery guns. But soon enough Luxon would be adding their own firepower.

"Nope, we're getting footage of irregulars firing on each other. They might be splintering in light of the Luxon advance. Or possibly due to what Task Force 403 is doing to the East." Flight Ops paused. "Beyond your concern."

"Understood." If our larger Task Force was engaged all that meant for me was that reinforcements from them were not forthcoming.


++++++

The medico among the survivors had enough time to stabilize her own broken leg and ensure the Legionary with the shredded wings would not bleed out and was on enough analgesics to maintain composure. Wings, especially membranous ones had a surprising amount of blood flow and while the bleeding could be stopped it did limit flight capability. The unconscious legionary was woken up and the upside to me was that the medico did not yell at me too loudly for the lack of immediate extraction.

I took that as meaning her charges were reasonably stabilized and that moving them and waiting for Evac would not be too detrimental. Not that the alternative was much better.

The psionic VIP may have helped calm her down. "Karena is passionate but she understands your situation," she transmitted to me, after patching in through Centurion Opal's communications system.

"Does she have any ire towards you, Evadne?" I asked. Evadne wore a set of Legionary lorica armor and helmet over grey casual-wear that would have blended into Ortov. She said she was a Palace Librarian which was either a cover or some academic who was caught and needed immediate extraction.

I was doubtful an academic would also be a powerful enough psion, but such things did happen.

She had been helpful when it came to moving the survivors from the office building to the roof of a garbage truck depot that was a bit further out of the city. The Legionaries complained a bit about the smell but that was just standard grousing, It's not like the trash was stored there, just the trucks. They had been there long enough to get some more medical care, have something solid to eat, and drink.

Having a stash of vehicles had potential, especially ones that seemed functional. Ground travel had some advantages. For my purpose, the main one was that the non-flying wounded could be moved without having half my Flight act as "stretcher bearers".

Fortunately, given the battle, the workers had decided to stay home tonight.

The condition of the trucks was surprisingly good, then again the streets were still somewhat clean. When a city started to have a garbage problem that was when you knew something had gone very wrong. Our sense of smell was more sensitive than a human's which was one of the reasons why higher population densities were... problematic for us.

The other reasons, our aggression, access to fire and claws, and pressures when empaths were in close proximity to tens of thousands of other empaths, were why I wondered how much of this city would remain come morning. After we blew up the plaza there had been some small mobs, but the civil aggression was still boiling up.

"No," there was a pause. "Kaena knows I lost my bodyguard in the crash."

"Right." I exhaled. "Honest assessment Evadne: should I have GreyDawn bundle you up and fly off with you while Octavia takes whichever Legionary Karena thinks is worse off?"

"For ideal performance at most half of a Ritual Plate formation should be carrying wounded," the librarian recited.

"I'm not giving away half of my strength to just get one person out," I stated. In a pure rational vacuum, I would have. If Evadne had some sort of intelligence that by sensitivity or volume could not be transmitted, then getting her out was the priority. Several Legionaries had already died to get her this far.

However, that decision did not exist in a vacuum. As bloodthirsty as my superiors could be, I knew they did have a sentimentality to them. More importantly, if I got the reputation as someone who would do whatever required for our intelligence services, no matter how coldly-cruel it was, then that would make me appealing to them.

Dangerously so.

If I were known as someone who could surmount impossible odds while being ethically callous to support intelligence operations, then the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance was sure to snap me up. And as risky as being a Legionary Flier was, working for CSR Spooks as their fire support would be even worse.

"Your concern is appreciated, Countess of the Preserver Order," Librarian Evadne said. "But I will also stay here to protect our Legionaries."

Great, she knew who I was. No choice now but to lean into it. "I would expect no less! I will ensure that you all will get out, no matter who I have to cut through in order to do it. We came here as arbitrators to oversee a ceasefire. But no, these oath breakers have drawn us into their treason! They have attacked us for no cause, and they will pay."

After a moment I heard quiet cheers from the Legionary survivors. Damn. Evadne must have put us on their common channel.

"Huzzah!" VioletBlood cheered.

Octavia seemed similarly awed based on her commentary.

Oh, I was also on the Flight channel.

I was very happy that my Wingwoman was both far from me and that I was wearing an opaque mask.

My tail flicked in the wind stream.

"Well said Primus, but we still have to decide if we hold here for a bit longer or move right now," GreyDawn stated, as she switched to a private channel with me.

"I'm open to suggestions. We've got a few contingencies ready."

She and Octavia were flying closer to the garbage truck depot but we were all in the air and using our camouflage systems, reasonable Veils, and careful flight paths to make it not obvious what we were patrolling over.

"Our Squadrons are engaging the Irregulars, and we have the upper hand in the air but it's not decisive."

"Yeah, they picked a hell of a time to get their air defenses organized."

"A Mechanized Infantry Brigade of Luxon Janissaries does wonderful things to focus the mind," GreyDawn joked. "But the main air threat to them is our forces. Not to mention, they don't want their southern flank exposed. We've already tangled with their scouting elements on the ground. They will push past or formation soon enough."

"They're got forces out past us. They have troops going after our landing zones right now. There would have been more if not for the troops we killed when our Centuries first landed."

"And I'm sure they'd be willing to thank us for it," GreyDawn's light tone had a bit of tension. It was one thing to be captured by a Great House as a pilot. We had value. Granted, as the case with that Zioxan War Mistress I killed, that value could be expressed in a twisted way.

Irregulars? Well they might not think too kindly of someone who was killing their fellow infantry in mass numbers. And my kind could get especially creative when it came to putting punishment upon a hated foe. This was one of the cases where our healing and regeneration was a decided detriment.

"And at least one of our Centuries is fighting their reinforcements." I glanced over the map. Functionally, we were behind enemy lines. This was less of a novelty given how House BlackSky preferred high mobility aerial insertion.

That still meant we were charged with protecting a tiny infantry force who could easily be overwhelmed. "Suggestions?" I asked

"Get another Flight or two in here and we fly everyone out in one go," GreyDawn stated.

"Yeah, that's pretty-much what I'd prefer. It won't be subtle, so I think we can get the Legionaries a bit closer to our forces before we start an airlift swarm." I looked over the depot. "It would take time to get that organized."

We could stay longer, this was not a bad place to wait until then. The fences gave a bit of an access barrier to the perimeter, parking lot, maintenance bays, and ground gave some clear fields of fire.

But I preferred to keep the survivors moving. "I think we should use a different form of transport and move them to a closer rally point. If a mob finds us we might have to deal with hundreds of civilians mixed with who knows how many irregulars. Move then airlift."

"Would be a shorter distance airlift too," GreyDawn added.

A two tone chime went off and there was a series of explosions to the west. That was one of ours. It looked like a Skofnung. The air-to-air Torpedo carried nearly two dozen Vel missiles. It was useful in a counter missile, Ritual Plate or other enemy air assets role. Good targeting data really helped with the performance, especially with fast or nimble targets.

Our own Ritual Pate, specially RavenSnow's squadron, followed in to mop up, and then take out the ground forces that had been trying to flank our landing zone. The Ballista Projectors Harmonia carried for air-to-air roles were a bit overkill in anti-infantry and anti-soft vehicle roles even when dialed down in power, but they would be effective, if not efficient.

It was not quite as bad as using Pilum bolts on infantry, but the poor Hoof-sloggers might not know the difference.

Though that did not have my primary attention. That fell onto movement to the North, far closer to us.

"Diamond, are you seeing this?" VioletBlood said using a priority interrupt as she added her take to my map display.

My scrying system could just start making out the screeching sound of incoming fire from Horus artillery guns. Great. House Luxon was close enough to start firing on the northern part of the city.

However, that was not what VioletBlood was highlighting. There was something far closer to us. And at least was smaller than the mess RavenSnow's Squadron was dealing with.

"I am," I switched to both the Flight channel and the survivor's. "Okay, we're getting some signals. A mixed air and ground force to the north."

"Looks like a couple troops of Crocodiles with a few Hathors as some anti-air. Ground troops are still forming up," Octavia noted as she observed the intake. Her scrying system was the standard model but at the moment she was a bit better placed to get info on the ground elements.

"They're supported by a Squadron of Archers, who are in turn overwatched by a Flight of Yeomen," VioletBlood said.

"Are they coming to us?" Librarian Evadne asked.

I double-checked the map. "Their track seems to have the ground troops pass parallel to your location by a few blocks, but they might turn, they might have scouts that pick you up. Those Yeomen have rather good scrying systems."

"But they will notice you four," Evadne noted.

"They will soon enough." If I took my Flight and left, then the enemy column might miss the survivors. We certainly were not circling right over the truck depot so even if they spotted us now they would not know why we were over the city.

It was probable that they would assume we were set up as a force to destroy their ground troops. Hence why they had their own RP Squadron covering them. Though they might suspect BlackSkyvian forward scouts had infiltrated the city.

That was part of our doctrine. And if they found the survivors what the enemy would suspect them of being.

That would be three wounded Legionaries, a VTOL Pilot and a Librarian against at least two centuries worth of infantry with Ritual Plate and mechanized support.

It made my decision easy enough. "We're going to take out the column, the armor, the infantry, the Ritual Plate, all of it."

"What will we do?" Evandne asked.

"You'll be getting ready to extract." I focused on the garbage truck depot. The vehicles were bulky and heavy duty things, they had fewer hydraulics than the ones in my first life, but were more than the glorified horse carts of my second. "And you, my Librarian, are going to ready one of those trucks you've inspected and get it up and running. Unless Opal, you think you're a better driver?" I asked our VTOL Pilot.

A garbage truck was hardly subtle, it was also not really armored, but it could barrel through most obstructions, and if we timed it right, after my destroying, or at least mission-killing that column, my Flight could provide escort.

And Evadne could provide extra protection.

It might get them closer to an area where we had enough air assets to pull them out. If not, it would at least give the survivors something to do. And would give them another option for a way to exit the combat zone.

Honestly, I considered having GreyDawn and Octavia help move the wounded on wing; I had a couple potential locations already shared.

But now, my focus was on getting rid of this enemy force. I put a request into Flight Ops for support, either a Torpedo strike or more Ritual Plate assets.

It would be nice, but I would honestly prefer a VTOL with Ritual Plate support to come in and pick up the survivors. That would free my Flight up.

However, given the fresh assault on the centuries at the resort I could understand the limit of resources. I would have to make the most of what I had to put the most pain upon the enemy.

++++++

Two centuries of BlackSkyvian Legionaries was not enough to make a full barrier to the Irregulars, rebels, or whoever were trying to flee from the Luxon advance. However, they were still positioned to be a threat to anyone who was going South. Especially given how the foothills in this area consisted of many sprawling valleys.

This new column was enough of a force, especially with the air assets attached to them to represent something the Irregulars would have to wheel widely around to pass without issue. Otherwise, they would invite massed air attack, or even a Torpedo strike. And befall the same fate as the group RavenSnow was wiping out.

Not that directly attacking our Landing Zones would not get such a reaction. But perhaps their view was that with enough troops, they could keep our assets fully engaged while the bulk of their forces could escape to the South.

It was a wasteful policy, but it had some merit. A bloody-minded enemy commander could try to throw enough targets at us, in enough numbers, to get us to expend the majority of our Torpedoes. But that would only limit part of our offensive assets.

It was true that, at the moment, Flight Ops only had one Ritual Plate Flight to throw at these forces. The rest of BlackSkyvian assets were already engaged and we had used quite a few of our limited stock of Torpedoes So perhaps there was something to that theory.

The overall picture of the urban combat was one of multiple spearheads of irregular forces trying to move in a roughly south-eastern direction. With the largest concentrations, those with significant anti-air assets, and those closest to our diminishing Landing Zones being the focus of our ire.

Right now, it seemed that our Landing Zones were used as less of a spearhead point for infantry operations than a temporary forward base to act as nucleus of supply, anti-air assets, and VTOL support. On the upside, it did shorten flight times while keeping our vulnerable airships further back. On the downside, it meant we still had ground assets that needed defending.

I was not sure I would agree that it was a worthwhile exchange.

But that was not my part of the battle.

My part was protecting the survivors of Spatha 2 from this Irregular column that might stumble into them. Though the more I saw them the more I wondered if they were a bit too organized and rebel might be a better term.

First, I had my Flight move to the North and go under heavy Veils.

Veiling at that level came with several costs. First, it required a lot of pilot concentration and skill to do well, and unless a pilot was specialized in high-level Veiling, it would fatigue her rather quickly. Second, it took up a lot of a Ritual Plate's power budget which meant less ability to do maneuverability or speed while also under Veil.

Third, it burned through more mana and arcane power. Which overall reduced the endurance of a Ritual Plate suit.

Timing was key. GreyDawn and Octavia split off, slowed, and descended while they took a new heading. Meanwhile, VioletBlood and myself rose up and vectored towards the column.

Our scrying intake built into a clearer picture. The Yeomen were above the Archers who were, in turn, overseeing the Crocodile Infantry Fighting Vehicles, Hathor dual-purpose guns, and their supporting infantry.

Their Ritual Plate formation was textbook. House Alecto provided rather good training. And whether these forces were directly trained by Alecto or by Vualia before turning their coats, they seemed to be using Alecton doctrine.

Or at least their export doctrine. That is how they taught a Minor House how to field Ritual Plate. How to make do without the funding, size, or institutional experience of having a dedicated Ritual Plate air corps. This was part of what made the Archer a popular model.

By Ritual Plate standards, it was cheap and simple to fly, and maintain. If a Minor House was fighting an enemy who was even smaller than them, then merely having any Ritual Plate would make a key difference in protecting their ground forces and ravaging enemy ground forces.

Even against a Great House like Luxon, the Archer would at least force the enemy to invest in air defense systems and make it so Luxon could not simply attack Vualia ground forces with impunity.

The Archer was also more effective when supported by a more capable suit like the Yeoman. Which was all Alecton export doctrine.

VioletBlood and myself angled in so we came from the North east. Minding our Veils, I pushed our speed up and kept an eye on the enemy formation watching for when they would detect us. Unless they were laughably inept, they would.

It was well known that House Alecto would sell to any House, provided said House was not a rival nor at war with them. And provided said House could pay and the sales would serve Alecton interests.

It was also known that Alecto would sell training, maintenance, support, spares, and consumables alongside their weapons systems. All things that were vital to have said weapon be more than a hangar queen that would be shown off at annual "victory" parades.

It was a bit less well known that they sold mundane components, manufacturing, and other areas of supply chain and sub-component and system support. The least well known was that Alecto also sold information.

We were outnumbered, but I was not worried. The key part was to not get bogged down. I checked to verify the positioning of my Flight. The closer we could get without being detected the smoother this would go.

All of the Diyu Great Houses were in the armaments export business to one level or another. And the information of who you sold what items to could be valuable in and of itself. Beyond sales orders, one could also inform a third party on all sorts of other factors.

House Alecto and House BlackSky had a very close alliance and exchange of military technology and arcana. House BlackSky's submarines, frigates, and seaborne logistics ships were either built in Alecton naval yards or domestically built with extensive Alecton help. Meanwhile House Alecto's smaller airship fleet and their Ritual Plate training and systems design came from House BlackSky. They also flew many of our models, especially higher end specialized ones, albeit a couple Marks behind the versions we used and with a few other modifications, mostly for navalizing.

Thus, we of House BlackSky knew exactly how Minor Houses were taught to use the Alecton RP suits they had bought and were trained on. Which was why seeing them in such a textbook formation was relieving.

More experienced fliers would know that formation was suboptimal when supporting ground troops in urban combat. Maneuverability was cut down when you had to move through streets and thus the ground columns could not be dispersed in the same manner.

There.

The Yeoman Flight was shifting position but it was a Flight of Archers that were moving to cross our vector.

The Yeoman, especially compared to the plain Archer, was a fairly elegant suit with sweeping lines, solid plating, and intricate gauntlets.

"Now Violet!" I transmitted as we both dropped Veils and pushed our Zephyr to max.

The four Archers that were ahead of us turned and tried to intersect.

The last time I was outnumbered in an air battle I was alone, functionally unarmed, and against peer-level suits.

VioletBlood hit the first Archer, using a short Falx burst to blow apart the enemy's wards while a second more precise orange bolts blasted through the armor. Her wingwoman got a couple shots off at VioletBlood.

Seeing that enemy getting target fixation, I took her out with a single carefully aimed Pilum strike as we blew past.

By conventional analysis our speed, and our direct strike, would be reckless, especially at a relatively low altitude of being only a bit higher than the irregular rebels.

If the enemy RP commander reacted to us and only us, she could still maneuver her forces and throw an entire squadron at the two of us. But that would leave the ground forces uncovered.

Here was the risk, would the commander adhere to her training? Training that doubtless warned her about how a multi-pronged attack with the intention of driving her forces out of position would aim to defeat them in detail. Would she throw everything she had at us? Or would she hold back in case there was a second wave?

Two Archers were still on our tail as we traced towards the Yeoman Flight.

They opened fire as red beams shot out. The Yeoman had good range on its projectors but this far out they lacked power. I was in the lead and jinxed and evaded, using the superior maneuverability of a Polyxo advanced suit.

Instead of trying to close into us head-to-head the enemy Flight leader was angling her forces around to try and get us in a crossing engagement. A reasonable tactic.

My wards lit up and I pulled out and began firing back. The Falx shots were little more than distractive ranging fire at this distance, but would not be for long.

I counted and... There! Three of the enemy Yeomen were firing at me.

"Go!"

Ever since our cadet days, VioletBlood edged me on straight-line speed. She went from being in my flank position behind me to racing ahead. This maneuver pushed her Zephyr and burned her power reserves.

She shifted and came in right towards the enemy Flight. It took them a moment to adjust from targeting me to targeting her.

That moment she used to close the range and open up with her Falx. And get precise targeting info that was fed back to me. That she wore a Gorgon rig helped, especially in the data sharing, but this was a maneuver that a standard scrying set could do.

When the wards of the Yeoman Flight started failing both Violet and myself each popped off a pair of Pilum shots.

Both of mine hit and one ravaged through a fallen ward. Arcane energy tuned to burn through the composite protection of an armored vehicle hit the relatively thin plate armor of Ritual Plate. That enemy pilot died quickly. The other had just rekindled her ward and managed to take most of the Pilum's energy before the rest bled through and nearly cooked her in her suit. She started dropping as her wings flailed. She might survive.

VioletBlood still had her Pilum set to anti-material instead of anti-armor mode. The slightly less-intense and broader-spread bolts blew through one of the unwarded Yeoman while the second blast just missed the last member of the Flight.

Or would have if the Yeoman pilot had not had gotten her wards back up. The bubble of defensive energy caught the burst evocation power and flash fried. Unlike my near-miss, VioletBlood's was still functional but the engravings and enchantments on that Yeoman were smoking. The formerly gloss bottle green armor was covered in scorches and smoke poured out of all the engravings as her wings jerked.

"Well done!" I told VioletBlood as she slowed a bit to allow me to catch up to her.

"I didn't kill them all," she complained.

Neither did I, but unlike my comrades I was not so bloodthirsty. "That's for the best, we need them agitated and weakened," I reassured. It was not like I would have minded if we had a clean sweep on that Yeoman Flight, but this was a fine consolation and I did not want my wingwoman to have self doubt.

The time for recriminations would come at the debriefing.

We did not slow down or even adjust our heading much. I wanted to give the impression of a strafing run where we would slash the enemy's air formation and the irregulars would want to get revenge.

That those two Archers were already following us was a good sign. Soon they were met by another Archer Flight and the remaining combat-worthy Yeoman.

I gave a vicious smile. We had a head start, but our speed was just enough that they might catch up. Maybe they thought we had just gotten damaged, maybe these pilots did not know the speed ratings of a Polyxo in ground support mode.

It was not my problem.

They were focused on catching us, doubtless they would try to use superior numbers to envelop, reduce our egress options, and pummel us at range. Unfortunately, they went past the point I had marked out.

A point that Octavia and GreyDawn were approaching under heavy Veil at a perpendicular vector. Calibrating their speed to be in the right location at the right time, they managed to get just into Pilum range and opened fire. Three Archers had been taken out before the enemy started to adjust their positioning to deal with threats in two directions.

The enemy was right to worry about a multi-pronged attack that would attempt to draw their forces out of position.

Unfortunately for them, VioletBlood and myself had flipped over and fired a brace of Falx bolts that blunted the enemy vanguard. Then we were among them. With their wards down, the leading enemy Flight was picked off by Octavia and Grey Dawn. Which left an ad-hoc middle flight that was out of position and the remains of the trailing Flight that had been harrowed by the initial ambush.

My main concern was our ammunition usage. While there was some exchange between a Ritual Plate's main fuel cells and the power for various weapons systems. The evocation projectors were most efficiently powered by arcane energies specifically made for them.

Once you ran empty on weapons and started, quite inefficiently, using power for propulsion, scrying, and warding a pilot would rapidly fund herself running on fumes. Not to mention that normal combat range meant that a pilot did not normally get any energy from her kills.

GreyDawn and Octavia were not being idle. Their suits were just Polydora multi-roles but GreyDawn was an experienced hand and Octavia showed great promise. Arcing about, they continued to cross the enemy force.

VioletBlood and I moved in to support the rest of my Flight. Now that the initial shock was over and we were still slightly outnumbered, I did not want my forces defeated in detail.

There was a reinforced Flight of Archers left. And it was a question if they would rally or shatter. They began to fire upon us, and someone managed to coordinate their fire.
I saw Octavia's wards go down. GreyDawn was about to move to cover her. But I was about to cross in front of them.

"Keep attacking!" I ordered as I pulled into a deep dive with a full acceleration. My wings pulled back as I intercepted the line of fire between the enemy and Octavia.

Red beams flared onto my wards as I added my Falx fire to GreyDawn's and VioletBlood's. I yelled as the fire burned through my Wards and I flicked away. Fortunately, Octavia had used the time to rekindle her own defensive systems and maneuver.

The two remaining enemy Archers broke away and dove down to the street level.

"GreyDawn, Octavia, run escort. Evadne get moving!" I ordered on the combined channel of both my flight and the survivors of the Spatha crash. "Everyone hydrate if you can," I added.

"We're already getting into the truck, and we cut the gate!" the Librarian said.

"Understood. We've taken out the enemy air cover and will escort you while diverting their ground forces."

"You did?" Evadne asked while I could hear the Spatha Pilot murmuring.

"We can talk about that after we're all safe on an airship." Then I switched to just GreyDawn. "Get them closer to our lines, if you find a good spot for them to hole up, do it. If you think you can punch through or manage to convince Flight Ops they're close enough for extraction, do that."

"Understood." GreyDawn paused. "You're not going to get too ambitious are you, Primus?"

I laughed. "GreyDawn, this was a team effort. I just wanted to clear the enemy and keep them distracted. We had to strip off most of their air support, simple as that."

"As you say," she noted.

"Status of you and your wingwoman?" I asked.

She told me. We were all about one-third left on munitions and half on overall power.

"Watch your ammo load-out. Use your Verutum launcher if you have to. But if you can get them out quietly I'd appreciate that." The Verutum used a physical projectile, and thus a low magazine, and had a shorter range, but in the right role could be useful.

"Uh, yes, Ma'am," she stated in a skeptical voice.

"I'm counting on you to keep Octavia on a leash; she's young and green."

"As you say," GreyDawn repeated in a similar tone. Why was it that everyone else was so aggressive?

"I'll try to get Flight Ops to relieve us or simply get some resupply out to us," I stated.

She confirmed that and flew off with Octavia to escort the survivors further south. Despite the fires and increasing chaos in the city, southern Ortov was not nearly as unstable as the northern parts.

My brief conversation with Flight Ops as VioletBlood and I got into position confirmed that much. Scouting Branch had telemetry that Luxon Ritual Plate and Scarab VTOLs were assaulting the northern extremities of the city.

I kept frustration out of my voice. The situation on the ground was deteriorating, and we simply did not have the troops to secure more than a small beachhead.

The enemy had realized that not protecting their ground troops with air assets would just get them destroyed, but was not quite able to commit to having all their Ritual Plate deployed. The hesitation was understandable, as their pilots were facing both Houses BlackSky and Luxon, but it contributed to their shrinking ability to contest the airspace over the city.

If anything, my actions would help buy more time for an organized withdrawal. Especially if I could keep this reinforcement column of irregulars from advancing. We moved to the east, the enemy was not too far.

"You think Grey and Octavia can get them out?" VioletBlood asked on a private channel.

"If they get discovered, it'll turn into a running gun battle with a garbage truck ramming everything they don't blow up from the air. I'd prefer it if they could simply drive out of the city to someplace isolated and get quietly picked up." Quickly studying the map, I sighed.

Luxon was advancing fast. It made me wonder if they had propositioned assets ahead of things, or if the Vualia positions between the border and this city had been emptied out.

Worse...

"Hathor guns are powered up," I noted as we flew to the enemy column.

"Confirm," VioletBlood stated.

"Well, they've only got two and-" I frowned. "Where is their Ritual Plate? There should be a Flight of Archers there."

"South of us," VioletBlood pointed out as I studied my map display.

"What are they thinking?" I pondered. Okay, being in the leading edge was not a terrible place if one had limited air support and was going into combat. But Ritual Plate had a speed advantage so one wanted to put it in a place that had the best ability to respond to an enemy attack.

"Maybe they're not thinking?" VioletBlood asked.

"Eh?" I absently inquired as I marked points on the map, the enemy's ground forces was consolidating back into one column. They had gotten enough Crocodiles and purloined civilian vehicles to have all their troops mounted.

It was not quite as good of a choke point as crossing a bridge or a viaduct, but with apartment blocks overlooking a river to one side and a large business complex on the other the north-south roads in this part of the city had thinned out.

"Maybe they saw almost all of their friends and their elite protectors die, and now they're scared and alone."

"Huh, good point Violet. I had been neglecting the psychological angle." I made some more adjustments.

At the front of the column was a quartet of Crocodiles followed by another group of Crocodile IFVs, a few softer vehicles, and then a pair of Hathors. The other two Hathors were towards the end of the column with a cluster of guarding Crocodiles.

I confirmed VioletBlood's status. We have enough but the margin would be slim.

"Focus on the aft end when I start firing, Hathors then this group of Crocodiles," I explained.

VioletBlood paused then gave a chuckle. "Confirm."

I would take out the leading elements.

Normally one would hit the enemy Ritual Plate first, but with how much they had been pushed, and their lack of reinforcement, and their vanguard position, I wanted to do a ground attack run first.

That would force the hand of that Archer Flight.

I waited until the leading elements of the enemy column were nearly at the intersection that would allow them to spread out from one north-south route.

There was a lot to criticize, pushing ahead without enough air support, a lack of scouting elements, poor positioning, bunching up, but there was only so much one could do in urban combat. And for irregulars without much coordination, they were trying.

And the Hathors were on the ball. Though that might have been that my power reserves were low enough that I was not Veiling too intensely. Their fire did allow me to fix onto their positions as I went to full evasion.

After two Pilum bolts blew up those vehicles, I quickly hit the Crocodiles at the very front of the column. One had tried to reverse and turn, maybe out of fear of some ambush in the intersection.

Either way, that maneuver had it crash into the vehicle behind it. As both were fairly-armored boxes with wedge fronts and flattened turrets, the damage was negligible, until I blew up one of the Crocodiles. That cooked off the other and with a second shot to the one at the front I managed to kill three vehicles and block the front of the column rather well.

In time they could push past it, but for now it would work.

VioletBlood, who had switched her Pilum setting had taken out her Hathors, and then went forward to take out a trio of Crocodiles about two-thirds of the way back in the column.

The choke point where they had to go through one road was not long enough to get all of them, so I had us bottle as much of the forces as we could on that single road and then leave the remainder stuck on the north side.

"Strafe, strafe!" I ordered as we flew over that roadway right towards each other.

The Archers were caught wrong-footed and tried to follow me as I fired Falx bolts into the infantry. Many of them were protected enough by the Crocodiles, but those that were in the commandeered civilian vehicles did not do so well.

I got a transmission from GreyDawn that she and Octavia had escorted the survivors over halfway out of the city with only mild resistance.

The enemy Ritual Plate were angry and moved at full dash, right into VioletBlood. She took out two, and while her wards recovered I turned to fire at a third. Below us the rebel, or irregular, infantry scattered. They fled to the apartment and business buildings on either side of the roadway as the Crocodiles moved to cover them.

Such dug-in infantry would be a pain to deal with from the air. Especially if they could disperse and wait in ambush with some good man portable anti-air assets. It was also a tactically acceptable way to flee the battlefield and lay low. It was not like I had the equipment to level whole city blocks at the moment. But the enemy there meant they would not be advancing to the south.

Things were going well and I was signaling VioletBlood that it was time for us to leave. And that was when a damn wizard came out from under her Veil and with a blare of energy a brilliant white beam shattered my Wards and made my Zephyr wail in pain as I suddenly lost altitude.


End Chapter 8

As I warned, I did end up splitting this chapter. Upside, this means the next chapter with rest of this battle, and the aftermath and homecoming is going along nicely. The main battle part is nearly done and now I have more space do devote to the aftermath and Tauria's welcome home when she gets back.

Updated with corrections. Thanks to Preier and RogueInquisitor for their commentary and critiques.

Update2: Chapters 5-8 have been gone through and given a similar correction and reread and edit as the first 4 chapters.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 9: And Kill Them Part 2


Some distance away and above, VioletBlood's Falx went off. The enemy caster fired up at her but the blast went wide. It was certainly a narrower white beam.

Tumbling, I coaxed my Zephyr. The spirits were hurt, angry, and confused. It was hard not to share in their sensations. My ears burned a bit as much of the arcane energy in my capacitors was dumped into my suit. Bearing all that, I tried to control my fall and extend my senses out and down.

The various displays in front of me flickered and many of the status runes were still blinking from red to amber. The most vital: power, communication, maneuvering, and environmental were at least green, mostly. However navigation, wards, and especially weapons were still in the amber.

It was fortunate that the BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate was robustly built. That solid design philosophy came at the cost of many pilots who were in weaker earlier iterations. Modern RP enchantments were made with redundancies and resistance to arcane assaults. Mine more than most.

I would have to thank my duchess for purchasing the Gamma Block power systems for my Polyxo. The Gamma Block used stronger and more robust enchantments for the power systems than the standard model. It was more expensive to manufacture and maintain and was not quite into full production.

It had also saved my life.

This Wizard knew her stuff, she put in enough power to shatter a BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate's wards and burn out their systems. It was my luck that her knowledge was a bit out of date and I was equipped with the latest and most reinforced mana and power distribution systems.

In the immediate aftermath, the systems went about protecting the pained air spirits within my Ritual Plate. Without my Zephyr, this suit would be nothing but a lot of deadweight, too much for unpowered flight.

The suit did have an emergency release.

That was not an option I relished having to use.

I ended up with my head pointed down as I scanned the street. And then gunfire started to arch up to me. Breathing, I started working on my wards. Small arms fire from battle rifles, even with arcane or alchemically enhanced ammunition was not too much of a risk with my physical armor, at least at this altitude.

For now.

Then I spotted a few of the surviving Crocodiles were raising their turrets. They were armed with a rather robust anti-material light vehicle gun. One that, unusually for Luxon, fired a physical projectile. The Crocodile was originally designed to be a cheap, easy to maintain, long-serving infantry mover.

This was also an easy way to tell that this was older surplus, likely pre-invasion. The last couple generations of Crocodiles, the ones in current Luxon service, used an arcane projector that while higher maintenance, and required dedicated power systems, did have more range and fire options. It was also modular in design to allow for quick field replacement of barrel projectors, accumulators, and other life-limited systems. Basically, the main wear-out parts were in a single field swappable module with the longer-lifed parts being Amory level replacement. In a way, it was similar to how Ritual Plate weapons systems were replicable components.

Still, those guns would be more than enough to cut through me, especially with my wards down.

Leveraging my Zephyr's fear and anger, I slipped to the side and started to go into a faster descent as I started to maneuver. My status runes still had too many amber lights.

"Got them!" VioletBlood said as she launched a pair of Pilums to blow up the offending vehicles.

"Watch for that wizard and enemy air power!" I cried as I searched the surface. A high level caster was a very useful asset. More than a Grenadier, a Magnus Engineer, Ritualista, artificer ,or even a Ritual Plate Pilot, a wizard was a high-potency generalist in arcane skills.

That put them on the rare end of magical talents. Up there with those who could do personal teleport magic. Which was something some wizards could do as well. They were often useful in research, precision, specialist enchanting, artificer design work, or possibly ship-board duties monitoring and maintaining advanced systems such as various teleportation runes or gateways.

Rarer still were those Practitioners who had the flexibility, speed, and power for combat evocation. In ground combat, they could be a real nightmare with a command of arcane energy manipulation or elemental powers. There was a broad range of abilities. Some were one-person artillery batteries or direct fire breakthrough units. Others could even use Ritual Plate. Fortunately, if this wizard could do that, she was not wearing hers.

I grit my teeth and, with a press of will, rekindled my wards and practically forced that status light to change. I was starting to get to an altitude where small arms were actually a danger to me.

I dumped the last of my earring's powers, the relics gifted to me by my mother Sister Clementia into my weapons systems. Pilum, Falx and Verutum all flicked over. Though the projectors of the first two were woefully low in reserve munition capacity.

Still, I had enough, as I started raking the irregular infantry with Falx fire. Most of them had done the sensible thing and had abandoned the soft vehicles and tried to pull into the civilian buildings to either side of the street. But there were enough firing up at me to make good targets.

Having to conserve my shots, I aimed at those who I could see and guarantee a hit, even if it merely wounded or incapacitated. In some situations that was enough, the cold calculus of war had wounded more valuable than dead. A dead enemy was just that, dead. But a wounded soldier was a burden for her comrades. Resources would be expended on the wounded.

In DarkStar's name, the whole reason I was in this particular mess was because when Spatha 2 went down there had been survivors. On the other wing, long term wounded would and could be brought back to fighting trim, especially with our healing abilities...

Killing or mangling, the difference was academic to me. But between the Crocodiles VioletBlood had just blown up, the attempts to get survivors out, and those trying to change position there were plenty of wailing, badly hurt people on the street; some had their wings and tails thrashing with their limbs, making them even bigger targets, while others tried to hide behind whatever rubble there was.

"Be ready for counter-fire!" I ordered VioletBlood. She seemed a bit distracted.

"Right! Didn't expect someone like her in a place like this!"

I had to agree with her; it was ominous that a combat caster was part of this column.

A white beam lanced up towards me as I spiraled out of the way. Someone in the dark bodysuit, fatigues, boots, and helmet of the other irregulars had raised some long weapon and fired at me.

It could be considered staff-like. It was long and the bulk of it was made of wire-inlaid wood. Though the ergonomics were more of a wood-stocked rifle, one with a full length fore-stock. Instead of a barrel, there was a series of interlocked accumulators and other bits of crystalline and engraved metal enchantments.

While I tried to evade, VioletBlood tracked her and sent a burst of Falx at her. But this time there was no flare of power in the wizard's attack. Instead what passed me felt like a glorified light show.

"Illusion!" I cried as the Falx bolts just hit an empty street. In fact, the whole street was now empty save for the vehicles and the dead. Even the wounded were hidden.

"I'm not piercing it either," VioletBlood confirmed.

I swore. Part of me hoped that my scrying systems were, despite their status, still down. Someone this skilled with illusion magic was worrying. I twisted and darted to the side towards the apartment buildings and the river. It was the quickest way to gain distance, but there was a risk as my scrying sensors were unreliable.

"Pulse active!" I ordered.

We both emitted an active signal from our scrying systems, but that failed to pierce the Veil. Lovely, this was a pro.

"No effect," VioletBlood confirmed. That was not technically true; some of the other data beyond this immediate battle got a bit clearer. That was part of the advantage of the scrying feeds over multiple squadrons forming a composite tactical map

However those advantages fell by the wayside against someone with great skill in Veiling.

Fortunately, we had countermeasures. I selected my Verutum launcher, concentrated, empowered, and fired a trio of anti-Veil rounds. The Verutum was an oddity for Ritual Plate weapons systems. It fired projectiles, commonly called "pebbles" by Pilots, Ritualista and Legionaries.

Its range was not the best and the munition capacity was rather low, but it held the advantage that when you needed to deliver a magical effect more complicated than simply a mass of destructive energy, then having a physical vessel to deliver said effect was vital.

The "pebbles" shot out of my gauntlet and hit the road in a rough line with crackling purple lighting as the energy within them discharged per the engraved runes on their surfaces. The energy quickly grounded and in doing so pulled away and dispersed the illusion in the bulk of the street.

Wounded soldiers reappeared, as well as those who were trying to evacuate them. Amongst them was a taller woman who had her hands out and looked like she was simultaneously marionetting a puppet show and conducting a symphony.

Quick on the draw, VioletBlood dropped a Pilum bolt onto her but the purple energy discharged against a shimmering ward that appeared over the wizard. Another met the same fate as the enemy caster lifted her sidearm.

It had a pistol-like from-factor That honestly reminded me of a more baroque version of some of the older side arms in Imperial service in my previous life, except with a solid crystalline barrel. But it was a functional way to have a "wand" one could aim and further accumulators and enchantments could be kept in the grip.

"Stop wasting fire! Evade!" I screamed at VioletBlood as I switched to a thaumaturgical paired rounds on my Verutum magazine.

The brilliant white beam came up as I fired. As VioletBlood spun off, the pebble made contact with the wizard's protective ward. Retaining the pebble's twin, I cast fire into it. The launched pebble was caught.

Fire from the ground forces came up at me but it was desultory, they were more focused on finishing moving their wounded.

Part of me hoped the Wizard might have tuned her shield to only block high energy attacks or high velocity projectiles, but that was a slim hope. Still, the pebble burst into flames and as I concentrated the whole dome was awash in arcane fire.

A bit of sweat came down my brow, neck, and back as the feedback and waste heat from my pyromancy caused my suit's systems to try to cool me.

The wizard's white beam cut out as the silver-orange flames formed a dome around her. If I was lucky her warding had little thermal insulation. Still her vision was impaired.

She flicked her wand and the ward dropped before either of us could fire. Another ward appeared outside of the flames and the inner one reignited, and then the two wards squeezed and my fires went out in a suffocating lack of oxygen.

Growling, I fired off the now useless pebble.

"Violet, keep on her with Anti-Veiling Pebbles!' I ordered.

As she began to run, the wizard's form blurred and the street started to shift. For a moment flying figures and anti air installations popped up. But the fantastical elements were a distraction from how enemy soldiers started to lean out of doorways with man-portable launchers.

But then, in a profligate expenditure I was going to take her to task for later, VioletBlood strafed them with her Falx while simultaneously saturating the area with counter-veil shots. Though I suppose she was far enough out that her accuracy was a bit low as one pebble hit an apartment building and another landed in an office park.

A couple of the troops did manage to launch their Alecton manufactured missiles, but I was able to intercept those and then suppressed the infantry with more fire. I was loath to use too much for fear of not being able to support the Spatha 2 survivors later. But we would have to survive this fight first.

The wizard was exposed, still with her warding up.

Feeling my Zephyr's continued ire, I snarled and shot towards the wizard on a strafing run. If she knew how low on munition power and overall power I was, she might just soak the damage.

I briefly thought I should get an award for restraint in that I simply did not try to level the nearby buildings to bury her. That I was already too low on my munitions to practically do that, and it was likely the wizard could simply evade such an attack, were mitigating factors.

Instead, I had to try a tactic that was only remotely feasible because we were, in aerial terms, at knife-fighting range, my enemy was grounded, and her attacking beam was relatively wide. And even then was a desperation maneuver. Still, it was better than having to throw a sword at her.

Even at this range, I saw the bright smile on her copper-colored face as she flicked her wand. The feed from my Gorgon Rig clarified and I could see the dark red gems adorning her ears, neck, and brow. Some of them were the size of my Preserver award. And those were just the arcane capacitors that were obvious.

I fired my Verutum before she did. The pebble arced across the sky, but it was slower than the heavy white beam.

I just barely managed to get the second shot off as I had my air spirits cut all lift and dropped. The second pebble intersected with the wide beam.

The twin that was carved from the same piece of obsidian and engraved by the same hands was only a dozen or so feet from the wizard.

A fraction of the beam's energy hit the second pebble, and a fraction of that power was transmitted to its twin. The rest went into blowing up the little projectile.

Meanwhile, the remaining pebble released all the energy that it had received. However instead of a coherent beam, it released it in a blinding, discordant blast of blinding white energy.

The wizard's shielding wards blew apart as she cried in pain and surprise.

As I plummeted, I had hoped for secondary detonations. But the distance was too far. I had to take the consolation of raking a quick burst of Falx through her torso. This time there were secondary explosions from the arcane storage crystals she carried.

I gave a satisfied smile, and then shot a counter-veil pebble just to be sure. And then gave a quick strafe of any enemy vehicles or troops that were still moving. Ascending back to a more comfortable altitude, I took stock. My power levels and munitions were getting dangerously low.

"Incoming air elements." VioletBlood sounded out of breath for some reason. I suppose she needed more endurance training.

"Those two Archers? What happened to them?" I kicked myself for target fixation. That was a sure way to get killed.

"They ran off and got backup."

I paused. My mouth felt dry. I sipped some water and with minor reluctance activated the broth system. I was hungry and while it was not exactly tasty it was energy rich and nutritious. "I see."

The whole point of thaumaturgical comms was that one did not need to send runners, or fly off in this case, to get backup. Unless the Irregulars were so disorganized or so paranoid...

I wondered whose comms systems they were using? If they were Alecton in origin, maybe they were right to be paranoid. This might explain some of their lack of coordination.

VioletBlood had pointed out a heavy squadron of Archers or maybe two light squadrons, supported by a full squadron of Yeomen. Call it thirty enemy Ritual Plate. Their tracks put them moving from the North in two formations that were crossing our paths.

The sensible thing would be for them to maneuver to an area away from both us and Luxon to provide some cover for their ground forces until they could get out of the city and scatter, or meet with other elements.

Though without reinforcements to join up with, their options were limited.

But that was in their future. Right now we were in their way and they would be none-to happy with the damage VioletBlood and I had done.

"Get altitude," I ordered VioletBlood after I sipped some broth. It took the edge off my hunger and fatigue. "We've still got distance."

I then started transmitting. "Flight Ops. We blunted an enemy advance that would have crossed the survivors of Spatha 2, but there are Ritual Plate reinforcements," I said then read off the details.

"Can you link us your scrying data?"

"Confirm," I said and linked it in. I knew they did not doubt me, but every bit would help.

"Diamond Flight support is on the way," Flight Ops said with confidence.

++++++

With VioletBlood on my wing, I blinked as Flight Ops updated me. It seemed more resources were freeing up. Were the Irregulars being squeezed enough to break?

Then a new voice came on the comm channel.

"Sorry for the delay but we've just managed to break their air support and get our people out; we're being vectored to you," Prefect Centurion Quirinus said.

I was a bit cheered by my Squadron commander's words, but scanning the map display I saw she was down a pair of pilots. Given my Flight was a third of her force, this meant Quirinus was only bringing half a dozen Ritual Plate.

Better than nothing, but not great

Then I heard the Torpedo alert chime. This time instead of another ground target blowing up I got a more vehement alert as a cone on my map display was shaded the lurid puce of a no fly zone.

A pair of Torpedoes raced in. Too fast to make out, these Fujiwara Torpedoes used a supersonic motor, which had an even faster terminal phase. They were the Skofnung variant, each of which carried twenty Vel missiles, specifically the air-to-air variant.

The Torpedoes released their missiles far enough out to get proper dispersal, but not too far to give the enemy Ritual Plate too much time to maneuver.

Forty missiles filled the sky. They cut through the enemy formation. And while the Vel only had about a six-pound warhead and a limited range and velocity, they had all been given a speed boost and updated guidance and telemetry from the Notus spirits guiding the Torpedoes.

Not all of the enemy were hit, some managed to evade or counterforce. The Yeomen fared better than the Archers in this. Some of the Vel Missiles were split into pairs with the first one shattering the enemy's wards and the second missile blasting through their armor.

The Vel was designed with a two-stage stage warhead with the intention to pierce wards and then hit the target. The missile did not always have the power to do that, especially if the target was being evasive. Two missiles were assigned per Ritual Plate for some of the enemy fliers. This gave a measure of redundancy.

Other missiles, especially those targeting the Archers were only given one per Ritual Plate. Most managed to take out their wards and then cause critical damage with the second stage of their warhead.

Then Quirinus', no longer significantly outnumbered, demi-Squadron cut through the survivors. The majority of which had lost their warding and all of whom were rattled by the sudden attack.

On the one wing, I was happy to see the enemy disposed of and I was not prideful or blood-mad enough to want to kill them myself. On the other, seeing Torpedo support in action was always a reminder of the other times when Fleet Ops decided it could not spare the expensive munitions.

I suppose this meant that the HFV Vajra had its Torpedoes reloaded.

Things were... complicated. The Janissaries now had a foothold in the northern part of the city, complete with Anupet squadrons, Luxon's multi-role Ritual Plate model. There were also sightings of some Anker golems.

The Anker was a large earth-spirit strengthened, vaguely leonine, walker that was roughly the size of a small tank. Fast for its size and sporting some powerful arcane projectors, it was a good assault and ambush unit and had its own anti-air protection.

However, they were expensive to field and maintain. But in urban combat they had a role, being capable of maneuvering in more confined areas. Especially if Luxon had air superiority.

Typically, an Anker would be supported by a three to five Bastet golems, plus the inevitable maintenance vehicles. Having the same roughly feline four-legged form, the Bastet was far smaller, not quite twice the weight of one of our Marius Mules but about the same size, and had an anti-material projector similar to a Pilum and a forward-mounted twin heavy machine guns.

For the weight, the Bastet was rather lightly armed, as the Luxon designers went with more armor and mobility. However, they could go places most other Luxon vehicles could not go and could be good support for Janissaries, especially sent in for assaults or operating as remote patrol vehicles or fire support.

That Luxon was bringing in what could be considered specialist equipment for urban occupation was not unexpected but was ominous.

And with our forces holding onto our beachhead and our own squadrons up in the air, the irregulars were running out of airspace.

No wonder Flight Ops was having limited VTOL availability. Doubtless some of the Task Force's Umbra mediums had been detached to moving torpedo reloads from the cargo ships to the Destroyer HFV Vajra. Each Umbra could move four Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes.

"What about the rest of my Flight and the survivors from Spatha 2?" I asked Quirinus over the command channel.

"They got to the retrieval point and we'll be securing the landing area for the pickup," my squadron commander said before giving me a new vector.

Informing VioletBlood, and then moving to follow her, I exhaled. "Good, I sent them out while we blunted that irregular column."

"I see. Any problems?" Quirinus wryly asked.

"Not many. It was the standard mix of old Luxon surplus for ground equipment and Alecton Ritual Plate. The wizard took a bit to take care of," I then added, before switching to my Flight's channel. "GreyDawn, status? How did you and Octavia do?"

"Nominal, Ma'am," the older pilot paused. "Down to the last quarter on munitions. Had to break through a couple improvised blockades and scatter a couple mobs. They managed to keep the big truck running though the whole thing. We're doing a patrol while the truck was put down by an abandoned logging camp. We've been using passive on our scrying."

The truck would still show up on thermals but that far out so would most approaching troops. Unless they were using higher Veils. "Excellent, the squadron is coming to you."

"Ma'am? Flight Ops said we might have to wait a bit."

"Updated orders," Quirinus cut in. "Hopefully we'll be wrapping things up here."

"Understood, we'll keep you directly up to date with our scrying input," GreyDawn sounded a bit relieved, which was good.

Quirinus went to a private channel. "You split your forces."

"One pair could run escort while the other pair slowed the enemy."

"You did what you could with the limited assets," Quirinus stated. I could hear the approval, tension, and weariness in her voice.

Which... was fair. So far, my flight had no casualties, but Quirinus had lost two of the pilots under her command. I didn't even know if they were injured or dead. If the former I hoped they were able to get back to an airship, a Landing zone, or at least an easy place for a Search and Rescue VTOL to get them.

And that we would not have to deal with another Spatha going down.

"We're pulling out?" I asked her.

Quirinus paused. "Likely. We don't have the Legionaries or enough Torpedoes. If Luxon decides to occupy Ortov, we'll be here at their sufferance."

"And there's no advantage to us maintaining a force here." I said with some hidden relief. House Vualia and House Luxon were... well, not exactly fighting. But Luxon was still an expansionist power that was taking over a Vualian city.

"We were here to support the ceasefire negotiations."

"And Task Force 403?" I asked. That was our sister formation and was even larger given they had a cruiser, a medium carrier, a Torpedo bomber tender, a squadron of Kolibri torpedo corvettes and patrol carriers, scouting assets, fleet train, and a Long-Range Insertion troopship that could land an entire infantry cohort.

"They were dealing with a rebel formation to the west of us. One that was more organized." She gave a harsh chuckle. "Not organized enough. They were also closer to the shoreline and Alecto had a naval squadron in the area."

"Ah..." That confirmed some of what I supposed. "It was a coup then?"

"Queen Vualia is most upset with one of her daughters."

I sipped some water. That was how it went. Even the Great Houses on Diyu were eponymously ruled by Elder demonesses. A brutal survivor bias had ensured that the Houses that remained were ones capable of surviving.

Patronage and nepotism were a rule. Even House BlackSky with its meritocracy and social advancement had the imperial Family. I was a prime example of how an orphan could, through her own efforts and a bit of patronage, climb to the upper ranks of nobility.

The problem came if a daughter of the Imperatrix, First Citizen, High Lady, Dictatrix, Queen, or whatever the ruler was called wanted... more. Most would go on to attempt to create their own House.

Such as First Citizen RedStorm splitting from Imperatrix BlackSky, or Dictatrix Ziox from Grand Admiral Trosier. Others... would simply try to take out their mother.

"That's why these 'irregulars' have a mix of Luxon and Alecto equipment?" I asked before reminding VioletBlood to keep mixing up her formation. Formation flying was good to ensure proper coverage and mutual support, but our relative positions had to be fluid, if they got too static and fixed then we became that much easier to target.

Quirinus gave a bitter laugh. "Oh it depends on how deniable their patrons were. And which daughter was the one who couldn't organize a revolution."

"Was it even just one?" I murmured. I could imagine the higher ups in Vualian society being unhappy. The Luxon occupation had been a massive drain on their resources. I checked the map and my scrying intake. So much had been wasted here.

And a Minor House could ill afford the loss of this much military hardware, economic capability, and demonic lives.

"My, someone's curious about the cultural and political implications," Quirinus teased. "Well, you are a very thorough one."

Shuddering, I nearly fell out of formation. I almost talked myself into volunteering for the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance. "Just learning a bit more."

"As you saw; we're nearly there." Quirinus paused. "I'm sure you're comfortable doing forward spotting."

"I'm not that low on munitions," I protested. I did not disagree with her. But I wanted to show I was gung ho for Frontline work, especially after my earlier slipup.

"Diamond," Quirinus's tone was warning.

'"Yes, Ma'am, understood." I then informed VioletBlood and took her to near the leading edge of our squadron's formation.

We were close enough that I could coordinate with GreyDawn and Octavia. "Okay ladies, stay sharp." I said over the Flight channel. "I know you've done a good mission and are eager to see the end of it and get back on the Garuda for a meal and some rack time, but that's when we make sloppy mistakes."

"Understood," GreyDawn said, sounding approving.

"Yes, Ma'am" Octavia echoed, her voice was a bit distant.

"Did either of you need any Pep?" I asked. The Legions had a variety of stay-awake compounds. They were more refined and had less risk than the pharmacology stimulants the Empire used, but they were still not something to use incautiously.

On the other hand, drowsy pilots were dead pilots.

"I took a low-dose when we passed the first barricade and had Octavia take one when the survivors made it to the lumber camp," GreyDawn said.

"Good. You both had something to eat?" I asked as VioletBlood and I added our scrying systems to the scouting patrol over the downed survivors. I noted that the rest of our squadron fell into a response formation in case the enemy came up and was positioning to help secure an air corridor and Landing Zone.

Octavia groaned, while GreyDawn said they both had some broth.

"I know it's not the best meal, but it's what our suits can make. It'll get some nutrition and energy in you, and cut the edges of those Pep doses. Right, VioletBlood?" I asked while checking on my Zephyr, they had a bit of a shake tonight but seemed to be back in fine form.

"Oh yeah, I drank mine. Didn't have any stims, seeing you get fried by that wizard got me wide awake."

"Wizard?" GreyDawn's tone seemed resigned.

"Fried?" Octavia was more awed.

"Never-mind, that enemy column had a spellslinger backing them up. I'll lay it out on the debriefing," I promised.

"Spatha Two survivors, this is Diamond Flight," I said, switching to Ventus Centurion Opal's channel.

"It's good to hear you, again," Opal said.

"Status?" I asked.

"Fine now. Karena's been hopping around trying to get our wounded settled and Evadne was helpful with her wards."

I wondered if she was making a comment about their medico's leg injury.

"It shouldn't be long now," I assured. If things got bad enough Quirinus had enough in her squadron to simply have half of us pick up half the survivors and fly to an airship while the other half ran escort.

Still, getting a Spatha would be the better option. It would free up Quirinus's whole squadron to run escort. The wounded would be more stable and Karena the medico could work on them. We just had to wait for a VTOL to become available.

"Diamond Flight, this is Spatha 1," a voice drawled over the command channel.

"This is Diamond; go Spatha 1," I said, with a bit of trepidation. This was one of Opal's fellow pilots from the HFV Syracuse. I wondered if she was upset with my performance. VTOL Pilots, Ventus Centurions, had a professional rivalry with RP Pilots, Volantes Centurions.

Ritual Plate were seen, by some in the public at large, as the more glamorous and elite. Where VTOLs were considered workhorses. We brought the fight to the enemy while the VTOLs moved all the troops, the cargo, the vehicles, and did all the real work. The Hasta Torpedo Bomber was another wrinkle in all that, as it was the only BlackSkyvian aircraft that was primarily an offensive platform.

The rivalry was professional, and no sharper than the service rivalry between the Household Fleet and the Imperial Legions. But still, when an RP Pilot went down, often as not it was a team on a Spatha Light that was sent in to pick her up. Under RP support of course.

"I just wanted to thank you for getting Opal and the others out," the voice said as I continued to check for enemy movement.

I blinked. The irregulars, or maybe rebels, were now moving to the south east, bypassing our Landing Zone but seemingly more worried about the Luxon Janissary brigade.

"You're welcome?" I tried to think. Humility seemed best. "I'm sorry that we couldn't get everyone. And all my Flight did was help move them, Opal and the others did all the work."

"Everyone who was alive when you arrived is alive now, you got them to me Diamond, and I just want to assure you that even though I'm taking them the last leg of the journey it was all your Flight."

I frowned, the dance of refusal of compliments was familiar to me and it could spiral out of control.

"That's nice and all but we have work tonight, ladies," Quirinus' voice cut in. "Spatha 1, I'm coordinating with your escort Flights. You are clear for Landing Zone Five."

I'll admit my stomach clenched as we kept a vigil over the little VTOL when it landed by the lumber camp and took on the survivors. That worry did not pass when the Spatha was once again in the air.

I know my concerns were absurd but... I was worried.

I was worried that if this Spatha were shot down then my Flight would once again be ordered for the rescue mission.

But that was absurd; we were too low on munitions and power.

My relief was irrational but still there when I saw Spatha 1 slip through the open landing doors on the aft centerline of the HVF Garuda. The pilot was good. Flying directly behind an airship, dealing with all those wake vortices and turbulence. Coming between the ventral tail fins with enough relative velocity difference and relative position control to slip through the yawing aft doors without pushing through the crash barriers was a skillful act.

Even on a calm night like tonight.

Ventus Centurions may not have the speed or the high performance but they were still precision fliers, despite far heavier air frames that needed to work with Zephyr who were in propulsion pods yards away from them instead of hanging around their wings.

Spatha One was sent to the Garuda for a simple reason: it was the largest vessel in our little Task Force, twice the size of any other, and thus had the most expansive medical facilities.

"Diamond Flight, you're first back on the ship," Quirinus ordered.

"Understood," I would have protested, if only to show my keenness, but our power levels were getting to the zone in which it would be imprudent to not swap out our fuel cells.

I switched to the Flight Ops channel and went specifically to my assigned ship. "Garuda Flight Control, this is Diamond Flight."

"Go Diamond Flight," came the calm, almost reassuring, voice of a Fleet Flight Controller. One wanted a steady voice when you were a pilot, of either type, trying to land onto an airship that was floating in the sky.

"Requesting landing for four Ritual Plate."

"Confirm Diamond Flight." the voice paused. "You are clear for starboard Ritual Plate landing approach."

Based on the Virtus Medium twin-hulled design, the Garuda was a Phoenician class Long Range Insertion Troopship. Like others of its hull design, the class had several access points for landing and launching.

In the bow were two catapults for launching Ritual Plate Pilots. In the very aft of the embarkation deck that linked both lifting hulls, was a centerline landing bay for VTOLs. A bit forward amidships, on the port and starboard were inclined launch bays for VTOLs to exit under their own power. There was a massive ventral opening in the embarkation deck that worked as a big open well deck large enough to accommodate Heavy VTOLs or a Venture Scout airship.

And forward of that were a pair of flared tunnels that worked as landing ramps for Ritual Plate Pilots.

A pilot could slow down and match the airship's speed and go into an open hatch and land on the deck. And functionally that's what the landing ramps were. They were simply more convenient and skirted the forward sides of the embarkation deck.

The landing ramps gave enough length that a pilot could slow down to match velocity without having to do a crash deceleration, and if she failed to stop then the far end of the tunnel was open so the pilot could continue flying and come around again.

Though such misses were rare, save in rough weather or other extreme conditions. They also worked as another way to deploy pilots. Yet without the initial speed a catapult imparted, they were very much a supplemental or backup procedure.

But unlike the launch tunnels with their catapults, the landing ramps had little weight cost.

Making contact with the squadrons doing combat air patrol on our little Task Force, I had my Flight form up to the starboard of the Garuda.

"Diamond Four, you are clear to land," Flight Control said as the lights to the landing tunnel flashed green. One of the main roles of Flight Control was to make sure various takeoffs and landings did not cause collisions. Ostensibly, the approach angles were made to provide clearance, but caution was prudent especially with various VTOLs and Ritual Plates in the air.

In some ways Garuda's Flight Control had a simpler task. It carried a third of the Ritual Plate of a Mellona Medium carrier, at two Squadrons instead of six. However it had to deal with carrying four Umbra Mediums.

Octavia angled her vector and flew towards the double-hulled airship, came in on an oblique angle and, already decelerating, went through the wider opening flare of the landing tunnel. The landing lights went amber as she entered and came to a stop.

Once she was clear and out of the tunnel, Flight Control called in GreyDawn to repeat the process and again with VioletBlood.

Finally, it was my turn. The data from Flight Control overlaid my display and I could see a slightly angled cone expanding out of the mouth of the landing tunnel. There were also velocity notations.

I adjusted my position and vector to match the centerline of the navigation cone. The landing aides were not required, a pilot was expected to be able to land without them but that was for emergencies.

Landing went much faster, and with far greater safety, with the route marked out. The Garuda rapidly went from a large airship ahead of me and to the right, to something that dominated my vision in front of me, to just a big dark wall that loomed up out of the night sky and which was about the same color thanks to the airship's camouflage.

Instead of focusing on the big curved wall that dominated my peripheral vision, I put my attention on the navigation display and a grid of lights. The middle vertical and horizontal row were orange and stayed lit.

A three by three box of blue lights was somewhere on the light grid. Where that blue square was indicated where a pilot was relative to her landing trajectory. The ideal was to get the blue box centered where the orange lines crossed.

The borders of the grid could also change color: red was wave-off, purple was too fast, green was correct speed, and yellow was too slow.

The system had its faults, but worked as a supplement and backup in case the navigation uplink failed. And when one was in a suit of flight armor and flying into an airship making sure one did not hit the side of said airship was very prudent.

I made sure to keep the blue square centered and the border in the green. That required a steady reduction in velocity. Though I was still going at a reasonable clip when I was swallowed by the sides of the tunnel.

From my perceptive, the landing tunnel quickly became narrower as the sides came in, the floor rose up, and the ceiling came down. My concentration was on staying in the center of the tunnel as I had my Zephyr flare to reduce my speed.

The floor, walls, and ceiling of the tunnel were painted in black bands repeating every seven feet or so. Though after a point, they changed color from black to red. If they got to red and the pilot had not stopped yet, that was a sign for her to up her speed and fly out the tunnel to try again.

My relative speed went to zero well in the black bands and my boots fell onto the deck with a clunk. I exhaled and tried to get my balance. For a moment it still felt like I was flying.

One of the flight officers came out from a door in the side alcove and offered an arm. Without much pride I took her hand. It was better to get out of the tunnel as quickly as possible, to keep it clear and ready.

After a moment, I would regain my airship legs.

My stride became more sure after a few paces, which meant I could walk on my own feet and not have to have my hand held by the much taller officer. I went through a hatch and down a corridor. The rest of my Flight was not far ahead of me. They too walked with the oddly floating, but ponderous, movements that came with a grounded Ritual Plate suit.

Soon, we were in the maintenance bay, and I heavily sat down in my arming chair. Connections and probes were clipped and plugged into my armor as my Ritualista swarmed over me. I lifted my facemask and nodded to my maintenance chief.

"Been a long night," Optio Gibbs noted as she scrolled through the glass diagnostic display she held.

I sighed. I had just gotten off a routine patrol flight before we had been given the order to support landing operations.

"Might not be over. I want my Flight refueled and rearmed. Do what maintenance you need to but I expect to be on Ready Standby."

"Yes, Ma'am," she nodded as one of her team undid the side latches to my helmet while another disconnected my Gorgon Rig. The disabled helmet was then pulled off.

I rolled my neck and breathed the metal and incense-tinged air of the maintenance bay. The burners to all the censers were flameless which mitigated the fire hazard. They were also bolted in place and kept clear of the various welding equipment, cutting torches, fuel cells, munitions, inflammable bottles, and even caustic chemicals for etching work. And given the ritual in Ritual Plate and that spirits of air were the critical component such offerings had their place.

The Ritual Plate maintenance bay had some major fire suppression tools and training. On par with the VTOL hangar, the main power plants, the Teleport Rune navigation and energizing chamber, it was one of the more at risk areas of fire on an airship.

I looked over and saw VioletBlood had managed to get a large sausage and a sourdough bun and was chewing thoughtfully.

I was about to ask where she got that when a slight figure, made somewhat more imposing by her armor, stepped over to me. Primus Wencesla was several times my age but was only slightly taller than I was.

She was carrying a metal basket, well more of a bucket, that was full of steaming loaves of bread and cool dry sausages. I noted Octavia was already slowly eating while GreyDawn was miming their earlier actions, using a bun and a sausage to mock dogfight and say disparaging things about the enemy. Octavia laughed.

Good, I would have given Wencesla a private word if she had fed me and Violet first and not the rest of my Flight. Nobility were not supposed to get favoritism in the Imperial Legion, at least not obviously.

I thanked her and took the food while one of my Ritualista gave me a canteen. "I heard you and the rest of RavenSnow's girls had a night," I asked after tearing into the bun. Oh there was a bit of melted butter inside and some honey drizzled on top. Behold civilization.

She nodded. "Busy, yeah. Casualties were.. well, are they ever light? Bekka was recovered, her suit will need a bunch of time to recover." Bekka SableTail was her wingwoman.

"I kept mine together," I said a bit quietly. I did not want to brag. I knew that the rest of my squadron had taken two casualties. I was not sure if they were wounded or dead. The truth was that a Flight, even a Squadron, was a small enough unit that every loss was acutely felt.

"Don't you get survivor guilt on me, Countess," Wencesla's tone was mocking, but her tail was loosely swishing and she seemed to be being comradely .

"I'm not," I guzzled down some water. I could not tell her that I had written plenty of condolence letters to the families of troops under my command. It was a part of war. That was what war did, it spent lives. Though the 203rd and Salamander had an impressively low casualty rate.

Wencesla tilted her head, her green eyes seeming to look through me. "Huh. Anyway… From what I heard you got Spatha 2's survivors out while the rest of us were dealing with the shitshow, even blunted an enemy column."

"You heard a lot of things." I chewed the dried sausage. It would have been better sliced up, maybe put into a stew, or at least with cheese, but was a quick and easy meal. And any time to eat Household Fleet food instead of field rations was a good thing.

She shrugged.

"How are you doing? One Primus Flight Leader to another?" I asked. Networking with your peers was always good.

"I'm waiting until I can get cleared to take off this suit, then find out when my next rest period is and range for some recreation with a convenient and available Decanus looking to make this mess go away for a few blissful moments," she said, her tail flicking about.

The short woman blinked and coughed. "Um that is..."

"I'm underage; I'm not ignorant. And as long as you're not breaking the fraternization rules, it's not my concern. You are a professional and I know Prefect RavenSnow runs a tight squadron." I shook my head. Crazy demons. Though in this they were not that different from humans. Young soldiers were always ruled by such things, especially when their own mortality was shoved into their faces.

The Fleet and Legions were sensible enough to realize that banning venial sins would only cause problems, especially given so many young demons grouped together. It was better to provide a controlled place to indulge in things like drink, gambling, and… other forms of recreation.

Depending on what was used to make the brew, an illicit still could be a health hazard. And even if the product was pure, it was a fire hazard. Underground gambling was less of a risk but could still produce debt and predatory lending. Transparency was intended to lessen such risks, which was how I knew GreyDawn was someone I would have to be careful with if I ever had to bluff her.

"Right." Wencesla shook her head. She looked behind me to the aft end of the maintenance bay and smiled. "Well, I've got to see if anyone needs any food; you have fun with your visitors!"

"What?" I asked, but she was already off and distributing food to any pilots and Ritualista who wanted it. Which, Legionaries and sailors being who they were, meant her bucket quickly went empty.

I twisted my neck to see two people coming up towards me. Both were pretty beat-up with their armor covered in dust, grime, and blood. One had relatively light armor over a flight suit that had harness points and connections. That made her a VTOL pilot. Her short white hair was a mess from the helmet that was somewhere else. Her wings were a dark grey with white accents and a matching thin long tail swished behind her as she walked up.

Next to her was a remarkably well-presented woman in dark casual business-wear: bodice, skirt, jacket, under a set of legionary lorica armor. With magenta skin, her bangs were evenly cut and her hair was pulled back in an efficient, neat orange ponytail. She wore slim gold-framed glasses and a cigar of all things was tucked behind one pointed ear.

Both were eating pita wraps that had been put into foil cones to keep from dripping.

"Venus Centurion Opal, Librarian Evadne." Instead of saluting, I bowed my horns to them to show my intention to have this be an informal event. "It's wonderful to see you up here. How are the others doing? I know Medico Kaena made sure herself and the two other wounded were stable."

"She did, and they're with the doctors now," Evadne said, she gave a cautious optimism but there seemed to be more behind those glasses.

But she was right. With our healing abilities and regeneration, if a Legionary could make it that far then they had excellent odds of making a full recovery. Physically that is.

The key job of our Medicos, of any medic really, was to do triage. Then those who could be kept alive were kept alive until they could be ferried back up to an airship or some other key facility. It was a fact that the majority of the Household Fleet and Imperial Legion's missio causaria, honorable medical discharges, were due to non-physical wounds. There were programs and counseling to help with Trauma Accumulation but for some situations a discharge was the kindest option.

Meanwhile Opal seemed to be surprised. The VTOL pilot tilted her head and looked me over. "Oh... So you are that young noble... wait... I did hear something... about a young noble who earned her Ace status against a Ziox War Mistress and an entire squadron?" She glanced to the Librarian for confirmation.

"I'm guessing you're not a fan of cinema? Don't read many broadsheets?" the Librarian asked as my Ritualista busied themselves with checking my suit's status. Gibbs, my crew chief, seemed amused.

"Mostly just the gladiatorial sections," Opal shrugged as she and the Librarian moved to stand in front of me, to make it easier on my neck.

"Well," Evadne gave a bright smile. "This is Primus Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust."

"It was not a Squadron: two Flights, not Three," I corrected, taking an angry bite of the sausage.

Opal absently bowed her head. "Still, I wanted to come up and thank you all," she looked around and waved to the rest of my Flight.

"We're all on the same team," I agreed. I would have preferred a less risky team-building exercise but esprit de corps was vital. And in that light I asked about something related to her specialty. "Did you see if the Umbra Mediums had taken up the hoof-sloggers? I heard we were pulling out of the Resort Landing Zones."

Opal nodded. "Looks like they went all in and have a Squadron's worth pulling up the two Centuries and their heavy equipment, such as it is."

"Yes, our brave women are doubtless getting out, enjoying being in the air again, stowing their kit, and then going onto to whatever places to engage in some sort of minor soothing vices," the librarian absently tapped her cigar.

I had some curiosity as to what information or mission a Palace Librarian had that would justify her presence here and require pulling out in such a manner. I wondered if it had to do with CSR's reconnaissance of Ortov and the areas around the city, or maybe to do with the ceasefire talks, or perhaps the coup that was behind all these "irregulars" scrambling about when their plot to overthrow Queen Vualia exploded in their faces.

I was curious but my curiosity did not exceed my desire to avoid further entanglements. I could see from the Librarian's little smile that she was gauging my reaction.

I shrugged. "The smoking lounge is up one deck, aft two frames and on the starboard."

Librarian Evadne laughed. "Why, thank you Countess."

"I'll show you the way," Opal said. "It's not far from the wardroom, I'm going up there to have some brandy myself. I know the stewards often keep a bottle stashed in reserve."

"Oh, I must confess I got a taste for fleet gin in my younger days," Evadne said as they walked off.

Optio Gibbs stepped back to me. "Smarter than you look, Primus," she murmured in a bare whisper only I could hear.

I raised an eyebrow at her as my tail curled up. I could respect a non-com giving quiet advice to her superior. "Oh?"

"Most young nobles would jump at the chance of getting in good with the Palace Librarians." My crew chief's eyes darted to VioletBlood who was chatting with Octavia.

"Give me some credit, Optio. I know that's more trouble than it's worth."

"Well said, Ma'am," Gibbs replied as she started checking my environmental and navigational systems.

++++++


Listening to a warning coming over the Primary Circuit to make the ship ready, I stood at the forward observation deck of the HFV Garuda. I wore a set of my dress blacks with the Preserver Order pinned at my neck. A mug of coffee was in my hand as I looked out at the formation in front of me.

Out here, with just the sea and the sky, the collection of airships looked almost peaceful. With no references to compare their motions against, the airframes looked graceful instead of lumbering.

Task Force 402 was also flying closer than normal. Not the "close enough that the airships were going to crash into each other" that popular media portrayed Fleet actions as, but closer than an ideal based on proper ranges for mutual support and scouting.

"You handled the service well enough," GreyDawn said, sipping her own coffee. Her amber eyes looked me over. She was by far the most experienced member of my Flight. Not that that was saying much.

"I just said a few words. It was the chaplains and the Squadron commanders and group trooper commanders who said the most."

"Sure, but that was all the standard patter. We all know what a Volantes Prefect Centurion says when she loses members of her squadron," GreyDawn looked at her black coffee. "I'm not saying they lack sincerity, but we've heard it all before."

"Including Octavia?"

GreyDawn's tail swished. "Ma'am, she has lost squadron mates before."

"I know that, it's just... I see her as the most inexperienced. The green member of the Flight." I looked at the orange and red-haired woman.

GreyDawn chuckled.

"My age isn't an issue for you, is it?" I held up a hand. "I'm not accusing; you can speak freely. My situation is unusual, I want to make sure it does not become a problem."

The Centurion took a long drink and pondered. "You've got real potential, Countess. I'll be honest; I expected you to be a bit more like your wing-woman, the baroness."

I glanced back at the hatch into the compartment. "VioletBlood is exuberant."

"She's the more typical kind of noble cadets I've seen as new Ritual Plate Pilots. Eager like a puppy, tail wagging about. Might have started to sink in for her when she was at the service and sipped from the chalice before saying her goodbyes."

One of the Household Fleet chaplains was a member of the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady. And given I had a small speaking role in the service and was a known member of the Church of DarkStar I ended up volunteering to hold the chalice when the ashes and holy water were mixed together.

There were other devotional ceremonies as part of the service. House BlackSky was remarkably pluralistic. Perhaps even faddish when it came to taking in a plethora of faiths. Then again who was I to talk? One of my mothers was a nun who venerated a granddaughter of our Imperatrix who died over a millennia ago.

Everyone of the faith had taken a sip and then had a quiet contemplative moment.

The service was taken at the front end of the well deck. About three hundred feet long by ninety feet wide, the giant ventral opening at the bottom of the airship was a place for transporting oversized cargos, a docking bay for Venture scout airships and heavy VTOLs, and had a set of overhead cranes that could move more conventional cargo.

Provided the conditions were safe enough for an airship to approach the ground.

It also gave a rather striking venue: rows of seating faced two columns of fluttering House BlackSky Banners. They seemed to hang in the sky and far below them was the waters of the Guardia Sea.

The wreaths that went over the railing seemed to fall forever before vanishing from sight. Fortunately, the battle did not yield too many fatalities, and only a subset of those had their bodies recovered.

There was the lost from Spatha Two and an unlucky RP Pilot from the Light Damocles carrier Syracuse. A Hathor anti aircraft gun managed to take out her wards and rumor has it fire from a Horus artillery piece just happened to intersect with her flight. It was a one in a million shot, I doubted the artillery crew even knew their big arcane cannon hit someone.

I knew for a fact that in war acts of the most horrific bad luck could happen. Even to people who weren't the plaything of cosmic entities like Being X. Needless to say, there was nothing left to bury of that Fleet flier.

Furthermore, the majority of the remainder were having their bodies shipped back home to Bovitar with us. That did leave two members of Imperatrix BlackSky's Imperial Legions who were... well technically they were being buried at sea.

Part of the job of the Ritual Plate squadrons doing defensive air patrol was to keep an eye on threats from the ground, or sea. Earlier today, part of their job was to make sure there were no nearby ships. To ensure that nothing... jettisoned during the ceremony ended up being an inadvertent projectile.

"Two nights ago was the first time she had even a fleeting crossing with mortality," I noted as I stared out onto the sea below us. The days since the Battle of Ortov, well skirmish, had Task Force 402 nearly exclusively doing air operations, mostly Scouting at that.

Luxon was also making noises that their occupation of Ortov was temporary and there were some proof as to that; while they did conduct operations in the city they had been targeted and their forward base remained to the northern side.

The latter was sensible enough given terrain, resources, and time. But there were indications that Luxon was not willing to invest, at the moment, in gobbling up another city. At least one that was so far from the current border of the Occupation Zone.

"Fleeting, that's about right," GreyDawn noted. "Tell me, did she make Ace?"

I shrugged. I had been through a debriefing with Quirinus, RavenSnow and the other Flight Leaders yesterday so I knew the answer to that. "Is it really all that important?"

GreyDawn gave an approving nod. "For some it is, Countess."

"It's only five air-to-air kills."

Snorting, she shook her head. "Some of us don't manage to get that with a sword." She sobered. "But that reputation, all the propaganda… It can have an effect, especially on a young former cadet who wants to prove herself to her lost and noble parents."

"I know VioletBlood's tendencies; I'm keeping her grounded."

GreyDawn gave me a weary expression that made me realize just how much older she was than she truly looked. Gauging age could be tricky for our kind. There were some tells around the eyes and a certain poise and certain experience that came across in an emotional reservation.

"I really appreciate your work in mentoring Octavia and helping with VioletBlood." I tapped my mug. "And, well, dealing with two nobles."

GreyDawn shook her head. She tried to not loom over me, but the height difference was hard to ignore. "Could be worse. At least with just two of you I don't have to worry about intrigue and squabbling power plays."

My first instinct was to downplay it. My second was to agree with her. As Great Houses went, House BlackSky's nobility could have been a lot worse. Instead, I shook my head. "I wonder if Ortov was the result of a squabbling power play."

GreyDawn was pensive. "We were on the edges. That daughter princess..." She paused.

"Ursula"

"Right, her. She was a provincial governor right on the western part of the border of the occupation zone. A frontline position, a trusted position." GreyDawn sighed.

"A position where she could try to build forces and court allies."

"Not enough," the older centurion's wings twitched. "I wonder if she thought too much about the amount of Alecto and Luxon 'surplus' she was getting."

I shrugged. "Those Alecton Marines were quite helpful in finding Princess Ursula and directing Queen Vualia straight to her. Not to mention the help Task Force 403, specifically their Infantry Cohort and their Torpedo bombers, had in taking out the eastern flank of Ursula's forces."

I stared out at the sky and water. Even though she ruled a Minor House, Queen Vualia was still a powerful elder demoness. Her problem was that one's personal power mattered less and less once your domain reached a certain size.

Yes being an elder demoness of vast arcane capabilities and experience made for a combatant that was functionally a strategic asset, but there was only one of you.

Having daughters, or other close allies, helped but they were also a limited resource. And as Ursula showed, one that could turn on you. To get real power a House needed robust institutions, military professionalism, strong logistics, and an economy capable of supporting those structures.

"I suppose your Librarian friend could answer those questions."

I shot GreyDawn a look.

Her amber eyes turned away. "I wouldn't dig too deeply into what she's up to. But I'm just a line pilot."

I exhaled. "But I'm a Flight leader?"

GreyDawn snorted. "Ma'am, we know there's more than that."

I put down a tiny bit of ire. This was a private moment and she was not being directly disrespectful, and I wanted to encourage advice from experienced people. Yes there was a fleet officer working a scrying station helping with air traffic monitoring, but she was on the other side of the compartment and engrossed in her work.

"Go on."

"You're still a couple months shy of your thirteenth birthday and you're already a Flight Leader. You're a countess. And unlike our VioletBlood you achieved yours from merit."

"My duchess gave it to me when she adopted me."

"Due to your efforts and with the endorsement of the imperial Family. Primus, we both know you won't be satisfied with staying a Flight Leader for what... nineteen years? Eighteen? However much you have left. Assuming you don't sign up for another term."

I had to give a slight nod at that.

"And if I were a betting woman-"

"Which you are," I lightly noted. GreyDawn was a fair dice player, among other games. A skill that involved reading the other player more than any luck.

"True, though I'm sure no one would take a wager on whether or not you'll end up in Squadron Command. It's well known how you finished your cadet training."

I exhaled. Being in charge of three Flights was not too onerous. "But Wing command?"

GreyDawn's wings shrugged.

"Tell me, are there wagers on if I'll make Volantes Tribune?"

"I would not be surprised if there were, but I can't say for certain."

I gave a tiny smile. "And such a wager would be a long-term one. Not exactly appealing action for bored Legionaries and Fleet crew looking for some coin to change hands."

"I would not argue with that assessment."

"And in light of this, you think I should have asked the Librarian for more information?"

"I can't say, that's above my pay grade."

"But it might not be above mine. At least in the future." I sighed.

"Ma'am," she stated in that tone of an experienced non-com agreeing with plausible deniability.

"Keep this up and I'll put you in for more commendations. Quirinus knows me; if I emphasize you and Octavia having the most critical role in the rescue of Spatha Two she'd be happy to go along with it."

"Ma'am?"

I smiled, showing my fangs. "Technically Librarian Evadne was in the warzone as a civilian. Therefore you, and Octavia, can qualify for a Preserver award. Now, I won't be so crass to try to put you in for a Crown grade award. However, I do have a bit of pull with those who decide when a Preserver award should be given." I tapped the gem at my throat.

GreyDawn shook her head ruefully. "I probably shouldn't get in the way of Octavia getting some rewards.'

"Do you think she needs it?"

"Needs? No. But she's still at the age where she'll appreciate it on a sentimental level."

"My, you are a cynical one." I might have had my tail swish at that remark.

GreyDawn gave a mock salute with her cup and then took a drink.

It was obvious that Quirinus had put GreyDawn into my Flight as a minder. Which I did not take as an insult given Quirinus had been my cadet instructor and specifically asked for me for Flight command in the squadron she had been given when she returned to a combat billet.

Doubtless, she wanted to keep an eye on me and to make use of my talents. I did not begrudge her for that. Prefect Quirinus had spent roughly a year instructing me, if she could get some return on that effort she was entitled to it.

I suppose I was content with this arrangement largely because I approved of her as a Squadron Commander. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement of such sensibility that I was certain strings had been pulled with my assignment.

After the events prior to my twelfth birthday I had come under considerable attention and had gotten plenty of... patrons.

I looked at the formation of airships. It seemed a bit closer and the Ritual Plate formations were drawing in. Plus the fleet officer doing air traffic work was getting busier. It would not be long now.

And that was something I had objections with. Not the patronage exactly, but that it was used to put me into a combat assignment, one balanced to help me grow and learn. Not just as a Ritual Plate pilot, but as a commander.

My intention to enlist in the Imperial Legions early was to maximize the time I spent in training roles. But due to a bunch of well-meaning, but warmongering, officers instead of spending at least a couple more years in training, I was already commanding pilots in battle.

No wonder the gossipy scuttlebutt took it as a certainty that I would make Squadron Command.

There was a knock on the door. After a moment the hatch opened and VioletBlood stepped in. "I'm glad I'm not late!" she said carrying a bucket with some more rolls and a bit of cheese and a small cylindrical bottle of Fleet issue gin. Perhaps not ideal, but a fair example of scrounging.

"And Octavia?" I had tried to be painfully clear that she could be here if she wanted to. And this was not an "invitation".

"She's talking with the Baha'i Chaplain. There was a bit of a line."

"Understandable, she's a member of Vanis Reformed, correct?" I had the luck of being at the head of the line talking to the DarkStar Church Chaplain. And all I did with her was go with some of the prayers I learned at my mother Clementia's side while the chaplain blessed my earrings and locket.

I would have preferred to avoid the rigamarole but I was already there, and being reminded of one of my mothers was some comfort.

I would have to talk to Octavia again. In a way it was reassuring she was seeking some comfort and guidance. Not just from her faith but she had talked with myself and Quirinus. Her concerns were just that: concerns. Talking about combat was healthy.

Nothing that made me think I had to pull her off active duty. In a way, it was reassuring. She was still grappling with the ethics of war. Meanwhile, of the rest of my Flight GreyDawn was a cynical lifer who was inured to all this. And VioletBlood had come to us with a bottle of liquor to celebrate with. Which more than anything showed the bloodthirsty side of BlackSkyvian nobility.

VioletBlood shrugged. "I know she doesn't drink, but plenty of people are teetotalers for non-religious reasons."

I gave her a dry look. It was true that the Church of DarkStar only prohibited drunkenness. My official religion was not a reason why I did not drink.

"I mean you're still a bit..."

"My age is not a factor either," I stated.

VioletBlood looked down at the gin bottle with a frown.

And there it was; it was easy to talk in the abstract of letting a bit of venial sins slide, especially when under supervision. It was another to let a fourteen-year-old girl drink. Still, this way I could keep her under my eye. Besides, she had earned it.

"I will let you toast beforehand, but next time..." I gave a smirk. "I expect you to find something better than Household Fleet rotgut. Think of your pride."

VioletBlood pouted and looked to GreyDawn. "You are a legionary," my senior-most pilot noted.

"And a noble," I added.

"Fine, I'll get some pear schnapps in Bovitar and sign it into the Squadron's Liquor Stock."

I nodded while GreyDawn finished off her coffee.

I could not be certain but it looked like all the patrolling Ritual Plate had pulled into their mother airships. After about two hours of charging the teleport runes, Task Force 402 was at its most vulnerable.

At least all of our Venture Scouts had their own teleport systems. Engraving the runes in critical locations throughout an airship's structural frames was a considerable cost. Not to mention adding in the lines and arcane power systems to connect them as well as all the navigation controllers.

Many of the smallest airships were simply built without teleport capability. They were fast enough that in many ways it was more efficient to have them use conventional propulsion on Diyu. And if they needed to be moved offworld then they could dock into the ventral well deck of a larger airship.

This cost savings did limit their utility, but for airships that were intended to do local fleet screening an argument could be made for their utility. Especially given the vast numbers of Venture Scouts and Kolibri patrol craft in the Household fleet. When you had about fifteen hundred and a thousand ships respectively in those classes, cost savings were alluring.

The teleport system had its limitations. It required a long charge up before teleport, and a cooldown afterwards to let the arcane equivalent of waste heat bleed out of the runes. There was also a tradeoff between range and accuracy in destination.

One could teleport on the same plane, that is by more skipping than fully breaking through reality, but only up to a bit over four hundred miles with the upside that one had even odds of appearing within about five miles of your destination.

Meanwhile a teleport that fully broke out of a given plane had a much further range, literally to other worlds, realms, and planes, but you were lucky if you appeared within eight hundred miles of your destination. It also took far longer to charge the teleportation runes and had a longer cooldown time.

Having a beacon at your destination could dramatically reduce the inaccuracy of your emergence point. However... it was a beacon, and thus something the enemy would be well aware of and an easy location to track. Jammers could also interfere with the emergence point, though a Jamming ward large enough to deflect an entire region would be quite energy intensive.

Transiting between here and the moons of Lantia or Emuria was in between as it was a deeper "skip" that was between two concrete realities. And gave a rather good even odds of appearing within eighty miles of your intended destination.

Taking advantage of that quirk in the tradeoff between range and accuracy was why House BlackSky kept the Third Primus Fleet stationed at Lantia. House Andromache liked the tangible commitment one of their strongest allies had to their defense.

And House BlackSky liked having the ability to drop a full fleet with air power and Legion Landing Flotillas anywhere on Diyu and beyond at a moment's notice.

I admired the coup it gave us, and the strategic options and how it fit into our overall doctrine of power projection. But this was the exact kind of bellicosity that made the other Great Houses concerned about House BlackSky.

The shortest range teleport had some limitations that, given the range and mean time between teleports of about three hours, gave it a functional velocity of 140 miles per hour. Which was still 50% faster than the official fleet speed of the Household Fleet.

It would not be the first time I had served an Empire beset by enemies afraid of the sharpness of our sword.

The Primary Circuit came on via the overhead speaker. "Teleport Warning. Teleport Warning. All hands prepare for Teleport. Secure all equipment and safe all arcane systems," the cool voice said.

The fleet officer in the compartment called in to confirm her status and that of the compartment and the part of the sky she was monitoring.

I motioned for VioletBlood to open the bottle and pour a couple fingers into GreyDawn's mug, then a couple into her own.

I looked down at the last bit of coffee in mine.

We waited for a bit longer. A formation of Airships would typically synchronize their teleport navigation systems. That would allow them to arrive at their destination at roughly the same emergence point. Thus if we could not ensure an accurate Teleport, the Household Fleet could ensure a precise one.

The Primary Circuit came back on and started counting down. Everything started to get a low hum as the runes inlaid thought the Garuda started to become critical.

I lifted my mug and we all took a drink as the airship shivered and golden light overtook us before bleeding into a purple shadow that slowly faded.

We were over four hundred miles closer to home.

Unfortunately, since we were still over the Gaudia sea and out of sight of land, the view did not change very much.

GreyDawn had a bit of mirth at VioletBlood's tail-drooping disappointment. To be fair the baroness looked so forlorn, I let them both have another shot.


++++++

Tail flicking, I paced the concourse. I had managed to keep my composure throughout this plan: from the correspondence in the Journal on Air Combat, to arranging to get transferred to support Legion stationed in Eastern Province, to coming up with an excuse to my family as to why I was being transferred thousands of miles across the length of House BlackSky, to using the gossip back channels to find out when and where the Legionary components of Task Force 402 would be landing, and finally to arrange to be off duty when that happened.

Months and months of work had gone into this.

All to reunite with someone I last saw a lifetime ago.

Someone who terrified me.

I could just imagine her criticizing me for picking this moment to meet her, instead of waiting for her to get settled in and when our schedules lined up.

My tail and wings drooped as I looked around what was a glorified, if expansive and efficiently-built, waiting room. Beyond a set of doors to one wall was a set of landing pads, taxiways, and other accoutrements to allow for the landing, unloading, loading, and servicing of VTOLs.

The closer ones were built for Spatha and Umbra sized models. Further out were larger ones for Gladius and Pugio heavy VTOLs and a bit beyond those were yet bigger ones that could accommodate airships small ones, Kolibri patrol sized and smaller.

Picking up on my nervousness, some of the other Fleet and Legionaries gave knowing looks.

Which was hardly an unreasonable assumption, as wrong as it was.

I was not some lovelorn pilot waiting to reunite with her mate.

We had a role to play. I had been born ahead of her, before she was. Guilt flittered over me, was I supposed to have made things ready for her? Prepared things for her in some way?

I pushed that aside. I would have been four when she was born. And even the White Silver was over twice that age when she first went into battle and was nearly thrice that age the second time around.

I sat down on a wooden bench and composed myself.

In the time since I learned about her, I had pushed myself. I increased my skill and volunteered for more flight time and training missions. I was always a good flier but good would not be sufficient, not if I wanted to fly by Tanya's side.

I had studiously avoided looking out the windows whenever an Umbra or a Spatha landed. If I had, I knew I would stare helplessly as I looked over the disembarking passengers to see if I could spot her.

I'll admit my hope and tension rose each time the doors opened and a fresh crop of Fleet and Legionaries came through the doors. It was not just the HFV Garuda or the rest of Task Force 402 that was unloading personnel.

While not the largest base, Castra Bovitar was still a busy facility.

The doors slid open again and another group of people walked in.

Perking up, at a tingle to my horns, I scanned the crowd but while they were Ritual Plate Pilots none of them were here.

One in the front was about her height, but the reserved woman had green eyes and black horns and was far too old. She was also a Household Fleet Pilot.

My hope curdled, but the tension remained as I slumped back onto the bench.

Then the group of pilots parted.

And I saw her.

She was as I remembered. A prim uniform bearing select, high decorations. Slight and misleadingly delicate-looking with intense blue eyes and wild blonde hair, parts of which seemed to bob about as she talked. Even at this distance, she exuded a commanding presence.

Yet, there were changes.

I expected the obvious: curling white horns, feathered wings, and whipping spade-tipped tail. But seeing her flashing her fangs in an only mostly guarded smile with the young woman next to her was surprising.

Maybe a year older than her, the other pilot was in her early teens. She had crisp aristocratic features and pale skin that had a hint of periwinkle. Her fine dark red hair was in drill-like curls, and while she did not bear as many decorations she still walked with a casually bloodthirsty confidence. She made pushing a luggage cart laden with duffle bags seem like a task to be taken with the utmost respect

Tail still, I found that I had gotten up and was already walking towards them. Towards Her. My focus was on the young imperious, lethal little noble officer with blonde hair; the one I knew.

I knew I was plain, especially in coloration with just brown hair and alabaster skin. My wings and horns were nothing too exotic either. I was older than them, but even my figure was rather typical.

Tanya swiveled her head and the tingling in my horns grew as those blue eyes looked up at mine.

Blinking, her tail flicked and swished.

I could imagine her brilliant logical mind taking in every detail and inexorably coming to a conclusion. Getting even closer, I flexed my hands. This was the part I could not plan for.

"Apologies I'm bad with names..." She looked onto my uniform to confirm rank and specialization. "Volantes Centurion, I'm sure we've met, maybe at a training exercise or a lecture?"

"Or the ballet?" her companion said with careful high-class enunciation to her Silvan Latin. Her lime colored eyes sized me up.

"Yes, perhaps."

I swallowed and bowed my horns. "I'm Centurion Victorious Shadow, recently transferred from Opalescence Bay. We've had some correspondence in the Journal on Air Combat, but I was not using my full name in those letters."

I could feel her reserve locking down as her blue eyes darted to the other pilot. "You had some fascinating ideas." She gave a smile. "We must catch up then. You know myself so I think we can skip full introductions."

The other pilot's tail flicked and she gave a disapproving look.

"Fine." There was a sigh. "I am Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, and my companion, and stickler for protocol, is Volantes Centurion Baroness VioletBlood."

"Charmed," I bowed my horns to the little baroness.

"Now, Baroness," Tauria gave a smile. "Can you give me a moment so I can catch up with an old friend?"

The baroness eyed me but her stance became meek when Tauria's attention turned towards her. She saluted and pushed the cart away, her tail low; its tip twitching.

"Crazy demons," Tauria quietly murmured as she directed me to the side of the concourse.

The waiting room for travelers had a fair-size commissary so that Fleet and Legionaries could pick up various small items to supplement their kit just before boarding their airships.

There was also something vaguely similar to a Commonwealth pub, or a Low Provinces beer cafe. Despite being part of a military base, there was some attempt to add a homey feel. It helped that much of the furniture here was wooden and even a whitewashed vaulted ceiling helped give a good atmosphere. The style here was a blend of Alecton and Condani

Condanium was a city in the northwest of House BlackSky's mainland holdings. Near the border with Elena and positioned where a river emptied into a massive bay, it was a port city. Unsurprisingly, there turned out to be a fair degree of fish on the menu.

We seated ourselves with Tauria practically perched on the fairly high booth we sat in. Hair bobbing, she looked over the menu with a frown. I knew she was not a fan of things that were fried and greasy.

"We can um... go somewhere with lighter fare?" I offered.

"That was clever of you," she noted, paging through the menu as she shifted her wings to try to get comfortable.

"I'm sorry?"

"Using an academic journal to sound me out. We exchanged several rounds of correspondence and I never..." She put the menu down. "I didn't even think you were here."

I put my hands up but... instead of reaching across I folded them in front of me on the table. "I don't know how it happened. After there was... well you could call it a dream. Maybe it had to do with that battle; the last one. Your last one."

Giving up on trying to position her wings, she let them fold down as if she was trying to minimize the giant collections of gleaming white feathers. "That's what he said... when he had others to take care of..." she quietly murmured.

"Tanya?"

"How... were..." she gathered herself. When challenged she had two ways of reaction: cold logic or intense violence. Or both. "What do you remember?"

"The Rhine. The 203rd. It becoming Salamander. Fjords and deserts. Operation Revolving Door. Singing after strafing the capital of the Russy Federation. Operation Götterdämmerung ," I shrugged. "What do you remember?"

She stared at me. "That was too grandiose of a name, and far too revealing of intention," she grumbled."

"Tanya?"

"Careful with that name. We can't all be as lucky to have the same nickname, Visha."

I smiled despite myself. "You remember then?"

She gave a little nod. "Weiss got you back home? Those that survived."

"Yeah, after that the war was..." I exhaled. "That's not important."

She gave me a critical look as a waitress with long white hair and deep blue wings slipped up to us. I ordered water and Tauria took a coffee.

The silence drew out as she looked into the cup and took a sip.

"I'm willing to entertain that you are who you say you are."

"Good?" I sipped the water. At least she was not in her Ritual Plate. That was... some comfort.

"I would prefer not to report you as a spy, or as a madwoman. The paperwork and questions it would ask would be burdensome," she said with utterly frank seriousness.

I blinked then, despite the tension, laughed. That, more than her making Ace before her twelfth birthday, was strong evidence she was who I thought she was.

I ran a finger over the rim of the cup. "So... um... we did win right?"

"The war? How would I know that?"

"No, not that. You know how it would have gone…" I kept the ire out of my voice. It was not at her anyway; she had known from the start that we would not win against the world. It was not fair. It started with us being invaded on multiple fronts but, as Tanya would note, fairness had nothing to do with it. "I'm asking about your last fight. Our last fight."

Her trepidation vanished as she gave a toothy smile. "That was a success."

"Really?"

She reached out and patted my hand. "Our world, our past world, was freed of a great evil. You could say we took out the trash and got rewarded for it."

I looked at her little hand on mine. I could feel her sincerity, her satisfaction.

"Someone talked to you... after you died?"

She gave a little smile.

I squeezed her hand.

Tauria looked down. "We have to be careful, Visha."

"We do?"

She lowered her voice. "If it gets out that we were reincarnated, certain parts of the Imperial government would be interested in us. Do you want to be poked and prodded? Best case they confirm our stories and we have to be tested and examined, worst case they can't find any magical signature or whatever and we get declared mad and drummed out of the Legions."

"It wouldn't be that bad," I protested.

She waved me off

"But we're both here for a reason."

"I agree." She looked me over. "I'm still getting over the shock."

"Yes, you're quite rattled," I dryly noted. I knew her coping mechanisms. She would be making theories, building contingencies.

Still holding my hand, Tauria sipped her coffee. "You sought me out. Amber Island is thousands of miles away. And, from the dates we started corresponding, you started it not long after I fought the War Mistress. I suppose that propaganda push had some upside."

"Now what?"

She let go. "Well, we can let Baroness VioletBlood unpack and organize my kit and hers and sort my Flight's admin paperwork alone. That will give us some time before I have to get back to my wingwoman."

"And what will we do until then?" I asked, trying not to frown at that. I was once her wingwoman.

Tauria picked up the menu as if she could will it to produce an option suitable to her tastes. "You are right, we do have a lot of work to do. And no reason to not discuss things on an empty stomach."

End Chapter 9

There we go. Took longer than originally planned, but got the Battle of Ortov concluded and have Visha reunited. I plan to have ch10 open with Tauria's POV on Visha reappearing into her life and her thinking about how this influences her future plans and obligations.

Thank you so much for all of you who have read and commented.

And special thanks to especially to DCG, Ellf, Green Sea, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
http://fukufics.com

C&C as always is wanted.

Future Snippet 1: Airborne Diplomacy by other Means.


Something "Many" Chapters in the Future.

As soon as the beacon was lit, Task Force Nibelung teleported. Accuracy was good and luck was with us as we formed up to the west of the city, which put us over land. If we appeared to the east we would have been over water.

And the enemy held that, for now.

Task Force Nibelung was centered around the Heavy Carrier HFV Valhalla, the Battlecruiser HFV DarkStar, and various cruisers, destroyers, light carriers, corvettes, patrol boats, scouts, and elements of fleet train and supply.

My Demi-Wing of four RP Squadrons only took up an eighth of the Valhalla's capacity of nearly four hundred Ritual Plate Pilots. And the DarkStar carried over a hundred and thirty Fujiwara torpedoes plus an entire Hasta torpedo bomber squadron.

And we were just the escorting force. The real force that came in over the darkened human city was the Emurian Sixth Landing Fleet. This was Dame BlackStone's domain, the youngest daughter of the youngest Daughter of Imperatrix BlackSky. And everything magical and electric had been wiped out in a preemptive attack. Which caused untold deaths in a major metropolitan areas.

The Sixth consisted of 4 Infantry Legion Landing Flotillas, 2 Armor Legion Landing Flotillas, 6 Landing Defense Flotillas, 4 Recon Patrol Singularium, and a Bombardment Flotilla.

It was a force with one purpose: delivering and supporting Corpus Incursio Reliance to the battlefield. Each Legion Landing Flotilla could deliver an entire Legion of 10 Cohorts their armor, vehicles, artillery, Ritual Plate, and a full resupply. The Defense Flotillas were there to protect the giant troop transports, dropship tenders, and other landing airships while Bombardment Flotilla consisted of a pair of cruisers and a heavy torpedo bomber squadron all dedicated to ground attack.

We came to this world with over 60 cohorts of Imperial Legionaries, two dozen of our new assault guns, three dozen battle tanks, four dozen infantry fighting vehicles, six dozen light tanks, 300 artillery pieces, and 2 Legionary Ritual Plate Air Groups.

Not to mention the Air Group on the Valhalla or the dozen medium carriers escorting the landing fleet.

I controlled my breathing as I stood in front of my demi-wing. We were on the starboard RP bay of the Valhalla. I was in my Polyxo armor with my helmet off, looking every bit the imperious young Tribune.

Prefect Baroness VioletBlood, commander of my second squadron, was at one side. Visha my wingwoman and aide de camp on the other.

Our Imperatrix had just finished her speech which had been relayed fleet-wide over the primary circuit, and it was a fine speech, full of sympathy and appeals to history, and talk of vengeance and ruination. BlackSky was already on the ground, her and four Daughters. That such a force was required was ominous, but we were already here.

"Listen up!" I cried to my troops as four dozen war maniacs that had taken everything I could throw at them. Every one of them had been pushed to the limits of their healing and their suits, but they just kept coming back. Each one of them was equipped in a Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role suit with a Gorgon Rig, all fully rated and experienced.

The 406th Evaluation Wing was a formidable force of the best Imperial Legion, and even some Fleet, fliers I could find to put between myself and the House's enemies. Their status and equipment made them an expensive investment for the Legions, but one that had paid off, and this was our reward. My tail twitched. I was not sure how a handful of squadrons I intended to check and proof equipment before it entered into general deployment ended up being some of the House's elites but here we were.

"We are here because peace talks failed. We are here because we are to show the signatories of the Unseelie Accords what we can do." I stated, not believing the words. The betrayal of the Fomor was expected. It was inevitable, which was why we were here.

"In their hubris the Fomor gave the citizens of this city, and the other Accorded Nations, the White Court, the Council, the Fae Courts, hours to prepare to mount their meager defenses. " My tail swished. "We have obliged our froggy enemy."

"We are here because nearly ten million humans who had no idea about magic or other species just got hit by a sucker punch and are about to be invaded by an enemy that brags about how their forces are legion. They claim a hundred thousand troops, a literal titan of invincible armor, and an arcane weapon that can destroy all she sees. They claim they will turn this city into pandemonium.

"Do not make the mistakes the enemy did, nor our supposed allies. You underestimate these humans at your own peril. This is their city and they will have reinforcements coming in. Flight Ops should inform you but keep an eye out for rotary or fixed-wing assets that are not ours. Make sure they have something to target on the ground."

I pulled my lips back into a sneer flashing my fangs. "You will educate the Fomor, my girls. In their hubris they come without significant airpower and rush up the beaches." I was skeptical, but as far as our intelligence sourced the Fomor were built around an aquatic and amphibious raiding force. They seemed to have little capacity for truly combined arms tactics. I had been faced with incompetent invaders in my past life, but there was no reason to not be cautious now. The Titan leading their forces was a strategic asset in her own right. But that was why the Imperatrix was here, not to mention the powerful potentates of the other Accorded Nations.

"Show them the power of BlackSky's Imperial Legion. Make them realize the folly of letting us land in order and ceding air superiority. Show them what a place of demons really is."

I slipped my helmet on and motioned for the First Squadron to get up. Behind my mask I let my expression drop. Urban combat was a nightmare, and we were going to be dropping into a city where the human population was caught between two major and about a dozen minor supernatural factions.

This was not the way I had envisioned visiting Chicago.

Author's Notes:

Tried something a bit new, let me know if previews like this are something you like.

Just a preview of where I see Tauria's future going and some plotlines in the future. Those of you familiar with the Blood Debts sub arc will see how this crosses over and fits into the main Return storyline.

I've got about 45,000 words written fro the "Battle of Chicago" project. And speaking of main Return storyline I have the next chapter of Bonding Allure that I plan to post soon, and the oft delayed ending to Our Sister as well.

And for Little Demon... well ch10 has nearly 5,000 words and there are two pieces of Tauria and her mom(s) that are in the work that I think you will find horrifically sweet and adorable.


And special thanks to Preier DCG, Ellf, Green Sea, and for checking and reading over this snippet.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 10: Reunions, Family and Otherwise.


Uriel was a very patient cosmic being.

Though I had to admit my data set was rather small. However, Being X was more than willing to take a "lack of faith" on my part as ample reason to interfere. That entity had openly stated it was giving my life hardships, would put me in danger, forced me to choose between prayer and death, and finally manipulated, corrupted, and empowered others to become my mortal foes.

This was a creature that had destroyed families in a cycle of revenge to prove some cosmological, but petty, point.

I suppose I had the last laugh.

By comparison, the Archangel Uriel seemed to be rather hands-off. It would be easy to blame him for how my careful planning to avoid military service, and failing that, to maximize my time away from the front fell apart on his machinations.

But there was no evidence of that. In fact for nearly thirteen years there had been no evidence of anything. As long as one discounted my own memories and the experiences and skills contained therein.

There were times when it was possible to think I was merely Tauria Magnus DiamondDust: a war orphan who through hard work, talent, and patronage had become a skilled Ritual Plate Pilot and, by dire circumstances, won considerable accolades including being adopted by the Sisters of Our Hallowed Lady who raised her and Tribune Duchess SilverFlight, said patron.

And while I was that person as much as I was Tanya von Degurechaff… I could not forget where I had come from, and who I was before Tanya.

Still, that was all within my mind. My knowledge, my struggles, my battles were all on my own. Yes, I had managed to convince the 203rd to sortie with me against Being X, but that had taken considerable effort and I focused on the creature's hostility to the Empire by pushing more and more enemies against us.

And downplayed any enmity it had towards me. Fortunately, Being X had abandoned all pretense after I dealt with the second member of the Sioux family for the penultimate time and its attacks had involved outright uncanny "heroes" and impossible synchronicity of events.

Even the most skeptical of my officers knew something was deeply wrong with world events, with the Empire's luck, and that something very strange was happening. Thus I was able to get Operation Götterdämmerung started.

However, even then, I told no one just why Being X had picked me. I simply let stand the implication that my natural talents, as exemplified by how I made Ace at nine up in Norden and earned the Silver Wings Assault badge, meant that I had received its attention and that by surviving the testing of the Type 95 I had gotten its enmity.

Sipping my coffee, I looked out the window of my office. It was more of a glorified closet, but there was room for a plain, but polished wood desk, three chairs, a sideboard, some storage space, and a window. Granted the view was of the side of an airship hangar but it was something.

The downside of the status symbol was that I had to be a bit more mindful of security. There were countermeasures to reduce optical observing and scrying, but that was no reason to be sloppy.

I put the cup down on the saucer. The Volantes facilities in Castra Bovitar gave the illusion of a rearward position. I was on a major base in a rather important Provincial capital and had my own, small, command. For the moment I could pretend. I could put aside that I, we, were going back out.

At the least I could put Operation Götterdämmerung out of mind. I never liked the name, it was too grandiose and gave poor operational security. But so many of the Empire's operations had names like that. No wonder we lost the war.

That was all in the past.

Even the conversation with the enigmatic Mr. Uriel seemed to be in my past. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to his apologies for keeping me waiting, or for his implications of others being given recompense as part of his work cleaning up Being X's mess.

It took nearly thirteen years for me to figure out even part of the plans he was running.

Visha returning to my life was a welcome change. I could admire her resourcefulness and her tenacity to develop skills that would be useful. I did not begrudge her for taking so long to find me. House BlackSky's population was over seventy million and, even if she assumed I would be a Ritual Plate Pilot, the closest analog to an aerial mage, our House still had over ninety thousand pilots.

I suppose that was one upside of the propagandizing of my early exploits.

However, that does show the difference in cosmic entities. Uriel had the confidence in presuming my drive and nature would cause me to have such events in my life. And if he made a little nudge, how was I to know?

Conversely, Being X was remarkably impatient, where after only about a decade he started brainwashing other people and just forced me to pray to him or die. I suppose Being X did not care that contracts made under the threat of death were non-binding.

From my, thankfully limited, contact, Uriel did not seem nearly so craven, petulant, or hostile. Still, the Archangel was a very powerful being; one that seemed to have some sort of limitations on his actions.

Regardless, I knew Uriel did not simply reunite myself and Visha out of the goodness of his heart.

I looked at the sunlight streaming in through the clouds.

The Archangel had a plan for us.

And I was going to be ready for this.

There was a knock on the door.

"Tauria? Um... Primus?" someone asked a bit nervously

I blinked and shouted that the door was unlocked.

Opening the door and stepping through, VioletBlood watched me with a curious look as her tail curled behind her.

"Yes?" I impatiently asked as I sorted the papers before me. Our squadron was short-handed which gave me several opportunities.

But that required presenting a compelling case to our squadron commander. Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus

She held up a fairly thin green folder. "I've got the maintenance logs from our deployment."

I had asked her to check, collate and summarize the Ritualista's maintenance logs and parts requests reports. It was part of growing her own skills for commanding, and running a Flight. Still, that she called that battle over Ortov a "deployment".

I snorted. "We fought one sortie."

She seemed to wilt a bit, her scarlet curls bobbing. "But it was ha-" her whine cut off when I looked up at her.

"We got to go to warm soft bunks the next morning. And less than a week later we were home. Baroness, I call that a bargain."

"But Astor..."

I glanced out the doorway. "Yes, her loss is tragic and hurts the unit. It also came in after Mercy's Flight was fighting about as hard as we were," my voice lowered and I tried to comfort her. Maybe I was getting softer with all my experience.

"Baroness Volantes Centurion VioletBlood, you are aware you're in the Imperatrix's Imperial Legions? Dying is part of the job. We're both war orphans."

"I know that!" she stated, trying to sound confident, but I could see a bit of fear in her green eyes as her gaze met mine.

I leaned forward and tried to be a bit more disarming with a smile. Her tail twitched. "I do hope you are making use of the Legion's counseling services, and if you do need extra... help I can try to arrange a transfer. You are young and I know you do not want to shame the memory of your mothers."

Unstated was that I would not accuse her of cowardice or weakness. She had been let out of the cadet program early. But I could not simply say that. We were both nobles and it would look too much like the patronage network at work.

"No!" She shook her head, her fine curls bouncing about. "I was good enough, I was adequate, you said so! You can't just throw me off."

I quirked an eyebrow at the fear coming off of her. Was she that bloodthirsty that she had to stay in a front-line unit? She was not even fifteen. Looking over the young demon I could see some of why I had gotten such a reputation.

"You were a good wingwoman over Ortov," I noted. In some ways too good. Though I had to be careful. She needed someone with experience to keep her from getting too aggressive.

"See! You need me!"

I picked up my cup and stared her down as I drank. "Really, now?"

"I mean..." Tail limp, she glanced back out the door. "I mean... I'm not afraid."

"Liar. Everyone is afraid in battle."

"You're not!"

I put the cup down. "VioletBlood, that's simply not true. I've just learned to be a bit more reserved with my emotions."

She looked down, seemingly embarrassed. It was good that she was not quite so cocky, but pilots did need confidence.

"I've seen you in battle. Granted we have not been on a grueling campaign together, but I know you can handle yourself and have great potential. In the air you can handle death, both the risk of yours and the enemy's." Perhaps a bit too well with the latter.

"And I want to fulfill that potential. At your side!"

I leaned back in my chair. She was bright, she had to know I was planning to bring Visha into the squadron, especially my Flight. Which meant one of my 3 current pilots would have to be moved to Mercy's Flight.

And while Primus Mercy Gabinus was a solid Flight leader I worried that such a young noble war maniac with so much to prove might be a distraction. It had taken even me years to get used to VioletBlood.

"Do not worry LoveBlood." In addition to using her nickname I tried to smile and made sure to have it be bright and give her focused eye contact. "There will always be a place for you in Diamond Flight."

"Oh really?" she gushed, her tail swishing.

Hiding my disquiet, I nodded. Kids, she was just a kid. Even Octavia was not much older, not really. Visha too, for that matter. Well, as long as you ignored her previous life.

"Now, are those the maintenance reports?" I asked, taking a more official posture in my chair.

"Yes, Ma'am," she said smartly, putting the folder on my desk. "Optio Gibbs compiled it with the other Ritualista chiefs."

"Good," I picked it up and started reading the summary. "Any difficulties in summarizing them? Conclusions?" I flipped to those pages.

"It was just a bit of work to check and read it. And it looks like our Flight spends a bit more maintainer-time keeping our flight enchantments updated. Took a while to get through."

"It's only twenty pages of logs per suit," I noted.

"Yeah but..." she frowned.

"VioletBlood, if you want to be a Flight leader, let alone have your own Squadron, paperwork is part of it."

"I know that!"

"Logistics, dear baroness. Nuts and bolts. Tires and filters. Enchanters and artificers. Bread, bullets, and bandages. That's what wins battles. It's even more acute for us..."

"Because we're a high mobility expeditionary airborne force?"

I nodded.

She beamed.

"Now don't let me detain you; I've got a meeting with Quirinus this afternoon."

She stepped back and paused, tail curled. "Um, have you had lunch yet?"

I sighed. "I was planning on having it with Visha."

Her tail drooped as I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Don't worry, I booked some Flight training this evening."

"I know but..."

I smiled. "Trust me, it'll be plenty challenging. It'll be better than yesterday's simulator training."

Her wings twitched. I could not blame her. While House BlackSky's training simulators were superior to the utter lack of any that the Empire in my second life had, there were some trade-offs between those used by modern militaries in my third life and my first one.

An RP "simulator" was one's own Ritual Plate with the weapons systems removed in a suspended harness with illusions projected in front of the helmet and false feeds put into the scrying systems. It gave a reasonable facsimile of many combat roles, and each simulator was relatively inexpensive, though the price could go up if kinetomancy was added to the harness to simulate G loading and maneuvering.

A limitation was it required a functional Ritual Plate to work. There were simulators that used dedicated, stripped-down, surplus trainer Ritual Plate which helped for new pilots. Another problem was keeping one's Zephyr from launching the pilot right out of the simulator. But it was a reasonable way to get wing time and train for larger operations.

"If you say so..." Again, I could understand VioletBlood's hesitation, the maneuvers that training operation we went through yesterday really could not be fully experienced with our current simulator capabilities. However, I did want my Flight to get more experience dealing with Zioxan Tjardu pattern air-superiority Ritual Plate.

"One of my adopted sisters is a reserve Harmonia pilot and she had some fascinating ideas on air combat."

"I uh... I'll make sure the rest of the Fight is ready then?" VioletBlood offered.

"An excellent idea, you go do that." I smiled as she practically ran out of my little office. It was good to have motivated subordinates.

++++++

For lunch, we went to the cafe I tended to prefer. It was close to the base and the menu was light enough fare. It also allowed for people-watching out the windows.

After we had gotten our meals and sat at the table and we started with small talk: how our days went, an update to maintaining warding systems, how the barracks here stacked up to those in Opalescence Bay, the escalation in tensions between Ziox and Andromache, and my meeting with VioletBlood.

"I'm not sure that was the motivation..." Visha said after I gave a summary of the earlier meeting.

I blinked and paused mid-soup. "But VioletBlood was so eager to go off and get back to work."

Visha's tail swished as she picked at her plate of noodles and sausages. "I mean, it sounds like she wanted to... spend time with you."

"But I was already having lunch with you." I frowned.

Visha patted my hand. "That's probably why she was upset, Tanya."

I froze.

Soft eyes blinked at me in confusion.

"Visha, please be careful," I gritted my teeth. "That name..."

"But..." She looked down. "I mean, no one here knows it." Visha lowered her voice. "Or about our... past."

"Yes, and we should keep it that way."

Keeping her fingers on mine, Visha frowned. "But you use my name."

I patted her hand "That's because Victorious Shadow shortens nicely." It was good that her family name used an Alecton loanword for shadow, specifically the Bantish term, instead of the Silvan Latin word.

"I suppose I could use a nickname for you, Diamond," she teased.

I sighed and went back to eating.

Visha picked at her food some more. "But we both... I mean we both reincarnated." Her voice was quiet. "We were both visited by an angel. We killed a... Well, was that a demon or an angel? I mean we're demons now and an angel helped us."

I gave her a level look. She had a point. There was a reason I called my old enemy "Being X".

"Well...."

"Visha, time and place."

She wilted a bit.

I patted her hand again. "Yes, I know we were sent for a reason. And I'm making plans."

Her eyes widened as her wings spread a bit. "You don't mean!"

I laughed. "No, no... our.... benefactor has kept his word with us. But I'm not naive enough to think he did it for free. We need to be ready."

"I suppose," she resumed eating. "What about the others? Our old friends. Did any of them... come?"

I pondered as I ate some more of my soup. The potato and chicken broth was quite good. "I honestly don't know." Visha had been at my side the longest. She had helped me set up the 203rd. The others, despite being war maniacs to a one, had their own lives.

"I guess it depends on what they did after the war." I pondered. Would people who had hopefully happy and full lives take the offer of some angel to go back into another life of war?

I would like to think they would be smarter.

But we are talking about my war maniacs here. Would they turn down a chance to go back to war? I took this option because I was cheated out of the life I was supposed to have.

"Maybe they weren't offered?" Visha suggested. "Or.... they're still out there. They might have had a harder time... adapting than we did."

I smiled. Visha was right. We were the only two female members of the 203rd. But she did not know about my life prior to that. I could sympathize with the plight of Weiss or Neumann, to pick two, suddenly being reborn as pretty and female. Though Koening did have a more roman nose and sharp features so he had a chance to be classically beautiful and Glanz was a bit baby-faced.

I sipped my water and chuckled. "Maybe. Maybe they did come and this time took the safe option and stayed out of the military."

Visha reluctantly nodded.

"I won't say no if one of them does show up," I assured.

She blinked.

I grinned. "I've got plans, don't you worry." I took her hand. "And those plans start with getting you a Polyxo of your own."

Her eyes widened. "You don't have to..."

"Nonsense, you deserve it. And it's part of getting the whole Squadron to advanced multi-roles."

"I am transferring to your Flight?"

"I have plans," I assured.

She gave me a sympathetic look.

"What?"

"I mean, just be careful. Sometimes your plans, well, are too successful."

I gave a grim smile. Then exhaled. She was not wrong. "I didn't always want something so grand." I wanted a safe position in the rear, something quiet. I still do. But even with Visha I had to be careful. "I mean I want to do my best for our empire, our House."

She gave an understanding smile. "And this is why I made sure I would be at your side."

Tail swishing, I shook my head but found myself grinning. Her help was appreciated. "And you are vital to my plans." I promised.

Visha flushed.

"Don't get embarrassed," I assured. "Yes, a Polyxo is expensive, but you need one. Especially to help you keep up with me."

Visha blinked and shook her head.

"Ah! There you are, little sister," a smooth, courtly voice said.

I turned and saw a stark, lean woman with silver-tinged features and long pale blue hair. She had deep green eyes and her nose and chin-line were much like her mother's, our mother's. Her tail was thicker, fluffier on the length, and she had silvered hooves. Her wings were also gleaming and hung behind her.

"Rorarii Prefect Lady Castellan ArgentShroud," I bowed my horns to her. "A pleasure."

"Really must we be so formal, Tauria?" The older woman smiled and her tail flicked towards a chair.

I was able to take the hint. "Yes, would you join us?"

"I would love to," she pulled a seat and took a place at the table. "And who is this charming pilot, sister mine?"

"Centurion Victorious Shadow, a transfer from Opalescence Bay. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lady," Visha introduced herself.

"Lovely to meet you." ArgentShroud smiled and bowed her horns. "I see you're taking up the family tradition of finding talented pilots?" she asked me.

I put on a smile. "Our mother taught us well."

"You're one of Duchess SilverFlight's daughters?"

"Second eldest," she gave a guilty look. "Well... first now. Invidia died over Antalia Island in the last Irkella-Alecton war."

Located off the northeast corner of Diyu, Antalia Island was the location of House Alecto's northernmost settlement, trade port, and naval base. It was also their most isolated. When House Irkella struck across the straits of Vallen to the nearby Minor House Rosier, Alecto got pulled into the battle.

As well as elements of our Primus Third Fleet who were visiting the Alecton yards. It was a bloody mess and was one reason why House Irkella's attempts at occupying nearby Minor Houses did not go as well as House Luxon's.

Visha gave her condolences. To someone who was not a pilot or an Aerial Mage it would sound perfunctory. But it was nigh impossible to become an experienced pilot and not have those close to you die.

My adoptive sister quirked a lip but bowed her horns.

"ArgentShroud is a Fleet officer. She served as a Harmonia Pilot for two terms. before going on reserve status to help Mother. As the heir apparent she does a lot of the day to day running of Mother's interests: land, finances, guilds," I explained.

"That's what Lady Castellan means?" Visha asked.

"Correct, the term originally meant to cover someone in charge of a castle and the surrounding areas. And their garrison. In modern times it means I have a more managerial role of mother's duchy and assets."

"Your mother has a duchy?" Visha looked to me.

"She is a duchess," ArgentShroud chuckled. "And we even have a garrison, but that's more because of Mother's retention of a mercenary company."

"And you're a countess." Visha gave me a smile. "Does that mean you have a county?"

"She is learning how to administer a portfolio of assets," ArgentShroud assured as her tail swished and wrapped around the leg of my chair, pulling me closer. "That does include some forestry leases and other lands."

Which showed the flexibility of the BlackSkyvian noble families. They had managed to ride waves of advances in applied thaumaturgy, industrialization, arcane standardization, mechanization, with all the economic, social, and cultural fallout from that.

A lot of it rested on the mix of informal powers and hard limits to power. The Imperatrix also had a sense of "cleaning house". They were pragmatic about a level of corruption, patronage, and graft, but once it started affecting the security of the House against internal threats, or got too many of the common citizens angry, then it was seen as a failure. And as such new blood was periodically pumped into the noble families, as my own elevation showed, while those who failed were quietly, or not quietly if they resisted, shifted aside.

The imperial Family operated on a similar model, to an extent, with Princesses, granddaughters of the Imperatrix, being banished or executed and even Daughters facing that fate. And while the Rebellion of Daughters was ancient history before even the Invasion, it did show that the Imperatrix was willing to decisively resolve such things.

"Wait. Two terms? You don't look it." Visha's eyes went over my sister.

"My, you are charming. I haven't been called youthful since my mate introduced me to our mistress," ArgentShroud smiled.

Visha nodded. "Does that mean?"

"Yes, Duchess SilverFlight is quite experienced as an officer, investor, and patron of the arts," I said. It was easy to forget just how old my duchess was.

My sister laughed. "Though Mother did have her first children rather young; she was rebellious and went into the Legions at a young age. Not as young as some of us." she added after nodding to me.

Many of the Noble Families were tied to the Household Fleet and the Imperial Legions. Not out of an overt opportunity for enrichment, but out of an obligation. And that service was a major status point, and did open doors for reserve and retired officers. Something I kept in mind for my own future plans.

It fell under the level of "acceptable graft". I had spent both my lives living under Imperial families. And ones that had histories of military aggression. That House BlackSky had survived and thrived was a good sign to its vigor and potential.

"I'm not the youngest Ace!" I countered.

"You are pouting, dear Sister," she said, using her tail to pat my leg.

I frowned, wondering if she was being too familiar. Our family did have appearances to maintain.

"You don't have to be so serious, time and place, Sister mine."

I did not glare and pout at her. "We were having lunch."

"And that's a lovely idea. We can have stories before going back to work. I've seen all the Great Houses in battle in my days."

The other Great Houses were not stupid. It was easy to be taken in by your power and cleverness to buy into the illusion of omniscience that comes from sitting in comfortable briefing rooms with lots of reports. I had seen economic, strategic, and tactical plans fail for all kinds of reasons.

When compared to more... regimented Houses like Elena, Luxon, Trosier, or even, to some extent Alecto, House BlackSky did seem more freewheeling and less "efficient". Yes socially, Luxon was quite socially libertine, but that did not extend to the economic sphere unless you were a noble in that House.

Visha had resumed eating but gave me a concerned look. I smiled at her and thought more of the situation we were in and of our rivals.

Despite it all, the Great Houses had survived the rather cutthroat world of politics on the Diyu continent. Yes, that was a textbook case of survivor bias as many of the powers owed their existence as much to luck or the actions of their enemies and allies than their own policies. And history was full of records of extinct Diyu Great Houses such as Vephar and Torrida.

And it was the height of hubris to assume that just because a power had existed for centuries that it would continue to do so. All my lives I had seen powers and empires that seemed eternal get snuffed out. Or ones that seemed sickly but had managed to last by inertia would suddenly collapse.

A waitress had come, bowed, and given ArgentShroud a menu and a glass of almost scarlet-colored brandy. She sipped and smiled.

"I didn't think this place served liquor?" Visha asked.

"Most cafes have something hidden in the back," ArgentShroud waved off.

"Is it okay to drink?"

"When is your next scheduled flight and what ready status are you on?" ArgentShroud asked. "Sister, can you cite the regulations?"

"I could," I stated, not at all off-put.

"But will you?"

I sighed. "It's not an issue, Visha, if you want one drink."

"Ah, so she's not a teetotaler? Good, I was hopeful given all the time you spent with the young baroness." ArgentShroud gave Visha a calculating, somewhat hungry, look.

"I don't mind having a drink or two," Visha admitted.

"And she's a fair hand at cards," I added.

ArgentShroud chuckled behind her hand. "My. Well, that is good to hear. Our Tauria is a bit formal and stiff."

I glared at the older woman.

She waggled a finger. "If I wanted to be bad I would wonder what Baroness... Oh, what was her nickname? Ah yes, what Baroness LoveBlood would think of this."

I narrowed my eyes.

"But I'm not." ArgentShroud's eyes sparkled.

"You said you had good combat stories?" Visha offered, defusing the tension.

"Well, I was there for the second battle of Bazala, when House Ziox tried an aquatic assault to take land from Luxon and Andromache."

That was thirty-eight years ago, which meant my sister had been a rather green pilot, not much more than a cadet herself.

"But Luxon's capital is close to the border."

ArgentShroud nodded. "There were even concerns that Ziox's strike might do it. The Janissaries were still untested, against Great Houses at least. People still thought Luxon as the 'sick woman of Diyu' and that their House was still decadent and weak."

My sister gave her haughty laugh. "Well they are decadent, but that war would prove the jackals as anything but weak. And there was a sense that Andromache and RedStorm had been humored long enough and were not real Great Houses."

"And they might have the same fate as House Torrida?" Visha asked. Torrida was the most recent Diyu Great House to fall, roughly a century and a half ago in the Second Great House War. A northern House, they were mostly absorbed by House Elena though House RedStorm nearly doubled in size and acquired a coastline, where Irkella also absorbed a fair portion of territory.

My sister shrugged. "At the time we were battling Elena and Trosier and were pressed to provide more than Castra Bovitar's strength to our allies in central Diyu." Her eyes went distant. The Third Great House War, as it was commonly known, was the last truly large war among the Diyu powers.

Visha looked interested.

"At the time we did not know how bad it was. And you have to understand this was years before the Harmonia was developed, so our air to air capability was not what it is now."

The war was a mess of functionally three sides. First and largest was BlackSky, Andromache, RedStorm, and Luxon. Second was Elena and Trosier, And third and by far the smallest was Ziox and Irkella.

Alecto, sensibly enough, stayed out of that war, other than attacking Trosic forces. Another exception was that Elena was largely interested in attacking House BlackSky, though they did push borders with House RedStorm to their current location, and they never declared war or took any hostile actions on Andromache.

"Ziox thought they could quickly seize Khemi and Myr and with their capitals in hand get concessions out of Andromache and Luxon. In reality, the bottom of the Great Bazala Lake was filled with more bodies, ships and transports than the locations of the worst fighting off of Amber island."

Visha nodded. She was from there and her parents had fled Elena expansion. More important Amber Island was a relatively large landmass centrally placed on the Atropia sea between House BlackSky and House Alecto to the east and west and Elena and Trosier to the north and south.

Thus, in a war between all four of those powers, it was a central target.

ArgentShroud took a long drink of brandy. "We were escorting our Melia strike units, precursors to the Telephe. And if you think pilots complain about the Telephe not having enough safety interlocks? The Melia was a proper death trap."

She glanced through the menu. "Still if they could survive to do a Lance strike, it was one less Zioxan landing ship."

The Third Great House War was the last great test to see if any of the Great Houses would be knocked down to Minor House, or destroyed altogether.

It showed the difficulty of new powers trying to climb their way up. In Diyu, House RedStorm and Andromache were both relative newcomers who had managed to keep, or perhaps earn, the status of Great House, despite everything Irkella and Ziox threw at them. House Torrida was also a recent and cautionary tale for them.

"Target fixation will kill you just as much as fatigue. Though weak logistics will take you out in the end. Ziox had one shot to cripple Luxon and even that was questionable, Luxon may not have had as much military power back then but they had a more coherent industrial and transport capability."

Similarly, Luxon had gone from a mid-tier power with land but little arcane, industrial, or military capacity to one through a series of reforms, including the Janissaries, that clawed their way up to third place. House Alecto was another underestimated House who, through deft trading, alliances, and avoiding continental land conflicts, built up power until it too could be counted as one of the Great Houses.

To the extent that many forgot the collection of island and shoreline enclaves was anything other than the premier naval power on Diyu. Which allowed them to get through the war with some of the lowest losses and was able to build alliances by supplying and helping their allies.

"I'm thinking of crab and brisket. Sister, how good is this cafe's smokehouse?"

"I don't get much smoked meat..."

"It's very good," Visha happily said.

"Well, we could order some. I wonder if the chef might be willing to send a girl out for steak."

Visha seemed torn.

"Oh, I can pay," ArgentShroud assured.

"That's not the problem," I stated, going back to my soup.

My sister's tail swished about. "I can expense it. We are talking about work. You are getting the benefit of my experience."

Visha looked to me for approval.

I sighed. Getting a fancier lunch would be nice. And it would be a chance to treat Visha. Though...

"You know I could pay too."

"But you won't, you stickler of a little sister." ArgentShroud smirked before turning to Visha. "Now you can be treated and she won't feel guilty. And she'll blame it all on me being flippant."

I smirked. Victory was mine, dishonorable or otherwise!

++++++

"Read this," I ordered putting a slim folder in front of GreyDawn. We were in my small office.

The older pilot blinked but her confusion lessened as I got some coffee and poured her a cup. I also slid over a tray of biscuits. I wanted to put her at ease.

Sitting down behind my desk, I saw that I had not quite succeeded in my effort.

"Have you presented this to Prefect Quirinus?" GreyDawn asked.

I shook my head. "I'm still refining it, and getting comments," I pointedly said.

GreyDawn blinked. "Upgrading the squadron from half Polydora, half Polyxo to all Polyxo is a worthy goal, but the cost alone... I mean, I would not turn down a new suit but..."

I raised a finger. "Due to battle damage, we are down two suits and one pilot. Both from Primus Mercy Gabinus' Flight. Thus we have six Polyxo, four Polydora, and a requisition for two replacement suits."

Flicking to the page, GreyDawn nodded. "You'll request the replacements as Polyxo? Might be tough to get the expense justified."

"Composite Squadrons are often a necessary evil, composite Flights are even worse. I've had some help looking over the regulations and requisitions."

"You might want to contact Primus Centurion Gratus. She is the assistant to Volantes Tribune Iynx who runs Ritual Plate Procurement at this base. Gratus is a fan of red wines from down south and is often a sounding board for her Tribune for ideas.," GreyDawn suggested.

I smiled. It was always good to have experienced subordinates who could help you navigate the bureaucracy. "Thank you, that will be very helpful."

"That only gets us two Polyxo. Granted, two Flights of advanced multi-role are better." She paged through the memo, thoughtful. "But in that case there would be some reorganization.

"And that's Phase One." I smirked. "I found a replacement pilot, and she has her own suit."

GreyDawn brightened. "A Polyxo?"

"Well, no." I sighed. "Not yet."

"Not yet?"

I sipped my coffee. "I still have to convince my mother to buy her one."

GreyDawn stared at me. "This is that new transfer from Amber Island?"

I gave her a dry look. "She is very qualified."

Holding up a hand, GreyDawn might have murmured something about nobles. She read a bit further. "Okay, we go for Phase Two. That gives us nine Polyxo and three Polydora. Not bad for a light Squadron, but would Quirinus really take that?"

I flashed my teeth. "Incorrect. If we time it right, Visha will retain her issued suit."

"Another Polydora? I thought you were trying to get rid of them?"

"I was, but consider yes a Flight of 4 Polydora is maybe worth only two of their superior cousins. But if we can present a Flight worth of suits, parts, and supplies as a package deal that could fly."

"Have you considered which squadron to offer that Flight's worth of equipment to?"

I tilted my horns. "I was thinking of having Quirinus present it to her commander Tiberius."

GreyDawn pondered. "It may be best to have a Squadron already lined up who needs a Flight, even if it's in another Wing."

I smirked. "That way, instead of Tribune Tiberius being presented with the problem of extra equipment to deal with, she had a solution to the problem of an under-equipped Squadron."

"Last I checked the Squadrons of Beta Wing are rather well set." GreyDawn stated. "But Gamma Wing is being put up to full strength."

I gave a smile. I commanded 3rd Flight of 5th Squadron in Beta Wing of the 23rd Imperial Legion Air Group.

For the most part, Imperial Legion Ritual Plate Wings were larger than their Household Fleet counterparts. This was because a Legionary Wing was intended to support a Legion and consisted of about twelve, even fourteen, Squadrons. By comparison, a Fleet Wing had eight Squadrons.

Where the Flight was the official minimum tactical unit of size for Ritual Plate, and the Squadron was a main operational unit the Wing was the main organizational unit. A Wing consists of many distinct squadrons of Ritual Plate types balanced to provide a given capability.

In the Imperial Legions this was simplified as the majority of our Wings were built around supporting a Legion. For multi Legion and sub-legion operations there were a number of smaller specialized wings and demi-wings. But even those centered around supporting Legionary operations by and large.

The Household Fleet However had a variety of Wing types. The primary ones being Air Fleet Operation (Strike) Wing, Air Fleet Operation (Interceptor/Defense) Wing, Landing Operation Support Wing and a Legion Transport and Support Demi-Wing.

Thus the Fleet used a smaller Wing to allow for more ease in slotting formations onto carriers and other airships. Where the Legions were concerned about keeping a force that could adequately support a fielded Legion.

To provide some balance an Imperial Legion Air Group consisted of 3 Wings where a Household Fleet Air Group had 4 Wings. Altogether an Air Group in either branch had about four hundred pilots, plus or minus a few squadrons.

Both the Imperial Legions and the Household Fleet were often forced to operate under-strength given training, losses and general availability.

"You might have to use some of your political capital," GreyDawn said in a dry drawl. She was an experienced centurion and since it was the two of us she was not undermining my authority. I respected her ability to be frank with me. I had too many subordinates in my life who would be simple Yes-Men. And while obedience was a cornerstone to a functioning military, there was a time and a place for a superior to take advice from her troops.

I sighed. "I know."

"Okay, that gets us to eleven Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role." She nibbled a biscuit. "How do you get the last one?"

"That brings us to Phase Three." I put in some reluctance. It would have been more elegant if I did not need to resort to this.

"Phase Three?"

"Sunk cost. If we've already got a decorated squadron with multiple nobles, multiple pilots with honor names, and pilots who are known to the imperial Family is it really a good look for Tribune Tiberius or Volantes Legate Aucto to let 5th Squadron be under-equipped. Just over a little funding shortfall?"

"One Polyxo suit is not a little shortfall."

"Compared to a multi- Air Group operating budget? Besides from their perspective for just the capital outlay of two RP suits they get an entire Squadron of Polyxo Advanced Multi Role."

GreyDawn gave me a blank, disapproving look. "But it's all gimmicks. You're only buying one with outside funds, the rest of replacements or swaps. And then you just count on the Legate approving a cost of one final suit because of your patrons."

I tried not to deflate. I knew there were a lot of moving parts to my plan. "Correct. There is some wiggle room. Some of the deals might not net us as many suits, so we might have to get the officers to agree to fund two. Or..." I sighed. "I might have to beg my duchess for another one. That'd be a light Flight in total from her, but if we have to…"

"Why don't you have her purchase an entire squadron for you?"

I gave her a bright smile. "One thing at a time, GreyDawn. One thing at a time."

++++++

Tail still, I stared at my Flight Commander. The tiny blonde seemed eager and happy, even giving a smug little purr. With her forelock bobbing about, for a moment she almost looked her age.

"Tempering one's ambition is wise," I noncommittally noted, flipping through the briefing. I did hope she would take that advice.

Nobles, especially those of competence and skill, could be dangerous. A libertine looking for adventure or sating a bloodlust could be worked around. But someone of means, ambition, and idealism?

That was how Imperial Heroes were made. And that was how a lot of Hoof-sloggers, pilots, and others ended up dead. Maybe it was necessary for the security of our House, but that's not much comfort.

When you're bleeding out in the mud with a shattered skull or blown out of the sky dying nobly or in vainglory paid the same.

And I was already sitting across from the youngest holder of the Crown of the Preserver on record. There were probably younger ones dating back to the Invasion and the days when House BlackSky was being founded, but that was far enough back that it was practically a different House. We did not even speak Silvan Latin back then.

"I understand your worries, GreyDawn." The countess sipped her coffee. "Sometimes I think I should put a bell or a leash on our baroness, but I fear VioletBlood would get the wrong idea."

I gave her a stern look that tried to not crush her spirits. "You're not wrong."

And that was the truth. Baroness VioletBlood was more typical of the "spirited young nobles" in need of seasoning. I wondered where Tauria got hers. Quirinus was a good instructor and squadron leader but she taught both the countess and the baroness. Maybe the blonde was simply more receptive.

The little demon gave a pleasant smile, or her version of one, as if she was willing me to read forward.

"Gorgon Rigs?" I inquired after reading a bit further.

"Just a pilot program. VioletBlood and myself already have them, so we just need to get the rest of the Flight fitted out. And since we're going to all Polyxo it's a minor increase."

I pondered. "I can see the arguments for the increase in scrying capability."

"That but also the superior data transfer with Squadron Command, Flight Ops, and Fire Support." She shook her head. "I am always amazed at the priorities rear-echelon officers can have when driven to capture false savings."

There was that experience again. Maybe she got it from her mother, the duchess that is. SilverFlight was an experienced reserve officer, mercenary commander, and owned several business interests that helped create Ritual Plate. "War is expensive."

"And a waste," she murmured.

And that made me feel reassured on some level about her. This countess might be a prodigy, she might be a natural pilot and a dedicated calculating student at combat maneuvers and unit tactics. But to her war was not glorious, it was wasteful. It might be necessary, but she seemed to regret it.

However, that did not stop her from seemingly reveling in destruction and using every capability to destroy the enemy. Over Ortov she proved quite capable at harrowing. I feared the result if she ever forgot that war was a waste.

"Still, I wish to show that the Gorgon Rig is more than a niche system. It's not just limited to an 'Occultia lite'. Maybe they won't become standard, but some of their systems should be pushed to the next update of the standard scrying suite."

I bit a biscuit. "The argument is that most pilots won't make use of the full capabilities of a Gorgon Rig and that doing so would give them too much of a burden, resulting in a net decrease in performance."

The Primus Centurion scowled at me, her blue eyes glaring. "And do you agree with that? Would you be unable to handle a Gorgon Rig? Or even a Polyxo? Your records say you are qualified."

She was half my size, but it was no idle posture. The odds-makers were really underselling her, someone could clean up with a few choice wagers on Diamond's performance. "Yes, Ma'am. I won't turn down better kit."

"Even if it gets you more work? Funding tricks aside, Tribune Tiberius and Volantes Legate Aucto will expect a performance increase out of a new Advanced Multi-Role Squadron."

"More work's part of the job, Ma'am. I may be just a line Legion Flier, but the way I see it, the Imperatrix spent a lot training and equipping us. And if the choices are between better kit and a certainty of worse work, or the same kit and merely a near certainty of worse work? I know which way I'd go. If I had a choice."

Alpha Wing of 23rd Imperial Legion Air Group was the typical high squadron count, Sarpedona -heavy wing that worked hand in glove with an Imperial Legion. Specifically, the 67th Infantry Legion Valentinian. The 67th was a solid unit with good honors and a veteran core, their armored component consisted of two Armor (Triarii) Cohorts. They made good use of their sixteen Infantry Fighting Vehicles. Valentinian frequently deployed with extra armored components, either a full Armored Legion, or a Vexillatio detachment of two to four extra Armor Cohorts.

Looking at the blonde noble across from me I wondered if she would prefer to have been in Alpha Wing. It was a slightly more prestigious position. Though at the Flight, or even Squadron level, no ill will would fall upon her.

Unspoken was that Beta Wing, our wing, was not assigned to a typical Legion. Oh officially, we were supporting the 156th Infantry Legion (Independent). But that meant the 156th was expected to deploy in Cohort size lots for smaller operations and thus Beta Wing would also be parceled out accordingly. Our operation over Ortov was rather typical with the Legionary components of both Task Force 402 and 403 coming from the 156th.

It was a trade-off. If you were in Alpha Wing's situation you might deploy fewer times, but that would be supporting a Legion-scale landing operation, followed by whatever mess required a full ten or more Cohorts to fix. Or more if it was a Corpus Incursio scale event.

Meanwhile, the brush fires that elements of the 156th would be sent to fight might be smaller, but they would be more frequent. Though in the true Legionary definition of "tradeoff" all that really meant was that we were likely to deploy when a conflict was small, and then stay there when it ended up blowing up into a full Legion scale operation.

I chuckled. From that perspective, my commanding countess probably preferred her assignment. Short of being seconded to a colonial position this was probably one of the greatest chances of getting frequent combat experience. Which suited her aggression and drive.

"If you had a choice," the tiny blonde wryly echoed, her hair bouncing, seemingly amused by my "just a line Flier" phrase.

After sipping my coffee, I chuckled at the idea of having a choice.

It was true. I had little ambition to command other pilots. The Imperial Legions, especially among the Ritual Plate Pilots, could not all be status climbers. There was ample opportunity for skill and capability advancement within a position.

However with other pilots it was painfully obvious: VioletBlood would almost certainly end up with a Flight, and probably command a Squadron before her first term finished. While Countess DiamondDust will get a Squadron command and likely make Tribune in command of a full Wing.

And if she stayed in for her all but certain second term, reaching Legate was possible, but I could not imagine such an aggressive, even tempered as her aggression was, little demon would be happy flying a desk.

Though that was assuming both nobles survived that long. House BlackSky's noble families were littered with memorials to unlucky or intemperate daughters.

Though how much longer would they be my, informal, responsibility?

To be honest, I was actually planning on waiting until Quirinus found another "babysitter", and I would put in a request for a transfer to a Sarpedona Ritual Plate.

Yes ground support was the bog standard, bread and honey role for Legionary fliers; it was still solid work. Being assigned to a specific Cohort also gives a sense of accomplishment, and plenty of action.

On the other wing... having a Polyxo? I looked down at the Gorgon Rig section of the countess's proposal. That was another upgrade. One did not turn down a chance at better kit. However...

"This new Squadron, you want us to be their forward element."

She gave me a prim, but predatory smile. "Do tell?"

"Flight 1 is Quirinus and Caenis' they already have Polyxo and the most time on-wing and combat experience. Flight 2 is Mercy's and, while good, they will need refitting, replacing and all will need to train up to Polyxo."

The blonde shrugged.

"Which leaves your Flight. Which has proven a capability for independent action, bombardment spotting, and various other high-impact roles." I pondered. If the blonde wanted to keep myself and VioletBlood in her Flight that meant poor Octavia would be sent to fill in Mercy's opening.

Her smile turned a bit glassy. "If we're going to get assigned such roles, I want us equipped for it."

"Does that mean there will be more training scenarios? If this plan succeeds there will be a lot of pilots who, while technically being Polyxo qualified, are a bit rusty on using the Advanced Multi Role model."

"Certainly not to Prefect Artemis Magnus Quirinus' exacting standards." The blonde's wing ruffled. "Do not worry, I'll make sure we are all adequate in her eyes. I'll even offer some competitions to help Mercy and her girls. We cannot have her lose face either."

I nodded. Training was good, and the countess was imaginative and skilled, but... she did take a bit too much joy in it. As if she was feeding over our discomfort. Which was not possible, most of the time we were too far from her for that to happen.

Still, I would rather be in a unit that trained to the limits of flesh, arcana, and hardware than one that simply checked-off qualifications. "If the pilots complain you can remind them that they could have joined the Household Fleet."

"Three hot meals a day from a proper mess and a bunk on an airship doesn't sound like a bad deal. I can see the appeal, I could almost get used to that." she said with mock wistfulness. "But that's not our lot."

I held my tongue. Tauria was a good Flight leader, especially for her age, but the "jaded centurion who had spent too much time in trenches and been on too many landing assaults" act was a bit much. I frowned. She was really, really good at it, giving the proper far-off stare and twitch to her tail and tremble to her wings.

It had to be an act. Or an exaggeration based on her limited combat experience. But it felt true. Which was odd, given her normally clumsy and overly broad attempts at empathic blocking.

It was something to bring up with Quirinus over a bottle of schnapps in the club, when we were off duty. She had known the little demon since she enlisted as a cadet at eleven. Maybe there was some other act of valor, or some hushed-up extended training operation that had gone awry and explained the trauma.

Something motivated and drove her to a level beyond even other nobles.

Either way, I would have to give the Prefect a few quiet words of advice.

Much as it worried me, I did think DiamondDust's scheme to get the 5th Squadron converted over to Advanced Multi Role suits could work.

"I think I can help convince Quirinus," I offered.

Tauria brightened. "You're worried I would be offended by you going over my head?" Tail wagging she gave a laugh. "Didn't she put you here as my minder?"

"Not entirely, but I do agree with the benefits of your plan, including the Gorgon Rig. I think I can help sell her on it."

Her mirth was genuine. Sometimes, she was just a kid, barely a teen. That and the little personal touches like the candy dish, the silver coffee set she kept, and the pictures of her and her mothers did show her softer side.

"Good. I'd appreciate that work, I think we've got a chance to help the squadron equipment-wise before we deploy next." She gave me a meaningful look.

"I have not heard any solid rumors. Elements of the 156th Infantry Legion could be sent anywhere."

"The perils of being on the Eastern frontier," the little countess frowned into her cup. "I have heard rumors about the mine we share with Alecto down south of us."

"The one in minor House Crocelli?"

Tauria shrugged. "Standard stuff, Crocelli is a thousand miles from House Trosier's home island but has a massive Alecton concession on their northern coast. Stresses and conflict you know the type. The mine complex isn't an official imperial holding but we get a fair bit of specialist metals from them"

"And they're across from Cape Niflhel." That was the southernmost point of House BlackSky and marked the boundary between the Atropia sea to the west and the Gaudia Sea to the east.

"Which makes them firmly Second Home Fleet or Corpus Incursio Merciful's problem, or whatever forces Voduri Grand Harbor decides to deploy. "

Vordurium was House BlackSky's second city. It was younger and perhaps not as culturally important as Silvana, our capital. But it was just as much a centerpiece of industry and trade. The city was inside a large, natural bay, and the whole province was extremely productive. It contained one of our main sets of airship yards and our empire's main naval shipyards.

It was also about as far from Bovitar and our Eastern Province as one could get, and still stay on the Diyu mainland.

"Are the rumors that worrying?"

"The mine is not our only, or even our primary source of Samarium, Neodymium, or Erbium." Tauria gave a little smirk. "We have to split the output with Alecto, but those metals are all useful in various scrying, and high power arcana transmission and emission systems. More than a bit goes into each Ritual Plate, and a Fleet Airship requires a lot."

"Not to mention Alecton Ritual Plate and naval ships."

Tauria shrugged. "I get nervous when rumors percolate about extraction facilities responsible for critical supplies."

"Especially when you plan to advance the capabilities of a Squadron in a 'problem solving' Wing?"

I noted her reserve and a bit of worry that seemed to come from experience. I again wondered why she kept her emotions so in check. What pains was she hiding?

"It's a legit concern. But it's not my primary one."

I tilted my head; her wariness was apparent.

The countess gestured towards a slit-open envelope. It was from the CSR Tribune on Volantes Legate Aucto's staff.

"Oh no, do they have a job for us?" I knew about being pulled into the House's intelligence services either the military's Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance or the Imperatrix's Palace Librarians. It was a wise enough stance, though I doubted her station would allow her to avoid the more... political aspects of those organizations.

Her wings fluttered as she exhaled. "Thankfully no. But that Zioxan War Mistress who endangered my VioletBlood and tried to kill my duchess, brainwashed her friend Luddy, and killed her mercenary Flight?"

"Mistress Zaphania Rodswor of the Second Assault Infiltration Wing?"

Tauria gave me a look. "Yes, her. Well, CSR has found out that her little sister, Samoth, who they expected was going to make a bid for command of the Second Assault Infiltration Wing has instead been petitioning Dictatrix Ziox's court that I murdered her dear sister Zaphania."

I snorted.

"Quite. CSR thinks she's trying to take a bellicose stance to deflect from the War Mistress' failings, but it has enough of a personal edge that they wanted to keep me into the loop."

"Do you think Samoth Rodswor would come after you?"

Tauria shrugged. "I understand that people can be driven to irrational heights of revenge. I'm more concerned about her using this as a pretext for Ziox to go on a war footing."

"Wouldn't you still be the focus of their ire?"

"I'm not that important," she shrugged.

"Our propaganda efforts indicate otherwise."

"That's propaganda," she waved her hand. "I'm just one Flight Leader. House Ziox has their problems, namely a lack of good land and their desperation for more. Any official anger at me would be merely a pretext. Besides, I've already killed one War Mistress."

Tail flicking, I eyed her, but after a moment I had to shrug. She was being a bit optimistic. But if Ziox did push for a full invasion of House Andromache, we were just to their south, and we would be deployed as part of the air war.

"Besides, I give good odds that this Samoth is just cynically exploiting the death of her sister."

"And you base this on?" I did not directly point out her lack of experience, she was my commanding officer. But I was nearly three times her age, and had been a pilot longer than she had been alive. However... I had not spent any real time as an analyst. I had done some work decoding aerial recon and battle damage assessment, but that was different.

Her blue eyes seemed very old for a moment. "CSR's analysis on her," she said in a half-skeptical tone.

I gave her a long look.

The blonde looked back. "I'm not dismissing her. I can be just as easily killed by a cynical opportunist wanting to leverage my death into political points as by a fanatic seeking vengeance for a murdered sister. There's plenty of ways to die. I mean we're delivered into battle on zeppelins and fight wearing, by vehicle standards, quite thin armor."

She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "It's still better than nothing."

I presumed she was talking about the Andromachin equivalent to Ritual Plate. In an attempt to maximize individual pilots capability House Andromache used extensive tattooing and even using silver to inscribe runes directly onto a pilot's bones. It provided excellent reaction time and energy output, but was extremely invasive and did present challenges in modularity and upgrades.

It also meant that their pilots would be ready to fight without having to put on bulky suits. For a smaller power worried about invasion by a larger one it also simplified field improvised deployments and possible infiltration actions.

"That is true." I finished a biscuit and eyed her. Except, she seemed to be speaking from experience. Maybe it was because she had trained against Andromachin Pilots as a cadet. House Andromache only started truly... involved medical operations on full pilots, which meant that their cadets still used conventional Ritual Plate.

However Tauria would have flown against fully qualified, and implanted, Andromachin Pilots.

Still... I know her mother did have her using a trainer Ritual Plate before becoming a cadet. Perhaps Tribune Duchess SilverFlight put her through some... intense flight training, both in and out of flight armor. That would be just how the martial noble families would do it.

"But I shouldn't take up all of your time," the countess stood up.

Getting to my feet, I started putting the papers back into their green folder.

"Keep it for a bit longer. Just don't let it out of the building," Tauria waved. "I want to submit it by tomorrow, but I do want your suggestions. I'm not one to not use an advantage. In DarkStar's name I'll even use this to impress the wax seal when I submit letters to the senior officers," she said, tapping the gem at her neck."

Nodding, I gave a salute. Using her status in the Preserver Order would help and the cynical, but pious, little countess would use every trick to get her way.

Picking up her coffee cup, Tauria smirked and returned the salute.

Tucking the folder under my arm I turned and stepped out of the little office with my tail swishing in step. I closed the door behind me and went into the squadron's common room.

The offices for the Primus Flight Leaders and the slightly larger one for Prefect Quirinus branched off the main room. As well as a small storeroom and archive. Due to some horse-trading and raptor-skinning our common room managed to have a set of windows.

Granted, the view was almost entirely the blank concrete wall of a nearby hangar, but at least we had natural light in addition to the gas jets or the halogen reading and projector lamps.

The spare walls of the common room had desk cubbies for supplies and the non-secured working papers of the bulk of the pilots. In the center of the room was a large table that could double for paperwork or briefings.

The room was rather empty. Most of the table was taken up by Mercy and Samus of her pilots going over a large map of part of northern Diyu and a sheaf of notes. I noted Octavia was helping them place markers on it.

On the other end of the table were VioletBlood and Visha, the new girl. I gave a little smile. She was not even officially in the squadron yet but here she was.

"Oh, GreyDawn!" she smiled as she perked up her wings and tail bobbing. "Coffee?"

"I already had some with the Primus," I stated lifting my mug.

Baroness VioletBlood shot the brunette a tiny glare and snapped her head to me, the action causing her own scarlet tubular curls to bob around. I idly wondered how she kept them from getting crushed under her helmet. "What do you have there?" she imperiously asked.

I stepped over to the shorter, younger, but noble pilot and simply looked down at her.

VioletBlood's eyes darted down. "Is it something you can talk about?"

I nodded. "Yes, our countess has a scheme to upgrade the whole squadron to Polyxo."

Mercy Gabinus' eyes went up from the map. Her clean red scalp shined in the light. "Do tell."

I shrugged. "It's not a bad plan, but complicated and requires patronage but..."

"Thorough and aggressive?" Mercy smirked while Octavia looked excited at the prospect.

It was good she got along with Mercy. Octavia was a good kid, even if she was an adult and not a glorified broodling like our nobles. And maybe Tauria swapping her with this new girl was for the best.

"That seems to be her plan."

"The... Primus isn't that bad," Visha defended.

I looked over to the younger succubus. She was about Octavia's age but also had a bit of that distance that Tauria possessed, though mitigated. "I'm not treating it as a negative."

"Of course the new girl sticks up for Diamond," VioletBlood pouted.

"Didn't you call her a social climber when you were cadets?" Mercy asked.

"I mean..." Tail flicking, VioletBlood glanced around the room. "That was before... She's grown a lot since those days."

"Not exactly in the physical sense," Mercy's tone was teasing. "What do you think?" she asked me.

"I can't say, Ma'am," I shrugged.

Mercy laughed. "Don't want to get between nobles or Primus Centurions?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Sending a pleased emotional burst, the Flight Leader smirked. "And that is why you're in the countess's Flight,"

Regaining her composure, VioletBlood looked from Octavia to Visha.

"I'm just here because Primus DiamondDust thought I could help," she assured, while giving a big smile.

VioletBlood frowned. "You can fly..."

"And brew great coffee. And you know how the countess likes her coffee," Octavia happily added.

"I can make coffee!" VioletBlood petulantly said.

I took a chair and started rereading the proposal. I had no idea how Artemis Magnus Quirinus could teach a whole cadet squadron of girls like this.

Visha appeared by my side and refilled my mug and offered from a tin of biscuits. I noticed they were the same type Tauria had in her office.

Tail stiff, VioletBlood gave a little growl.

"And your coffee is very good. I really like those hazelnut beans you found from near the cape. But for some, the Alecton style takes a bit getting used to, Lady VioletBlood" Visha said as she then went and offered the noble some of the confections and coffee.

"I... yes. It's something some of our squadron-mates do not appreciate." VioletBlood sipped from her own very fine silver-inlaid mug.

"I'm a simple Legionary, I'm not a fan of that cold brew stuff," Mercy said.

"Right, you think Fleet adding a dash of salt is too high and mighty," I noted

"It's not proper coffee if it's not from a foil packet that was made before the last Great House war," Mercy insisted.

VioletBlood gave a suffering, subtly haughty sniff. "At least you can help understand the finer things." She begrudgingly admitted to Visha. "You have no idea how rough our Diamond was before she got adopted and elevated."

The brunette's smile was bright and open. "As you say, Baroness. More biscuits?"

I chewed and resumed my reading. This might work out. If Visha could help keep my two young noble pilots from being too aggressive and cocksure then we might have a chance.

"They are good," VioletBlood said with some reluctance.

Mercy shook her head and went back to work with her pilots and Octavia.

"The countess recommended them, she said they reminded her of some cookies you got for her on one of your trips for the ballet troupe."

"She did?" VioletBlood ate a honey crisp. "Well, of course she did. How thoughtful of her to remember me like that."

Visha just smiled. "I just don't want you to get angry at one of your dearest and closest friends, my Lady."

"As you should want that," VioletBlood said with enough haughtiness that it took a bit to not roll my eyes or conceal my own emotions.

"I'm just honored to be here," Visha replied, so bubbly and eager that she seemed nothing if not utterly sincere.

VioletBlood gave a concerned frown and looked around the common room. "Well… Yes, then. You do know you'll have to meet Prefect Quirinus' and the countess's standards."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that," Visha stated, giving a flash of her fangs as her tail merrily swished behind her.

End Chapter 10

Ten chapters in! And things are sure to be looking up for our Little Demon!

And special thanks to especially to DCG, Ellf, Green Sea, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

Thanks to Readhead for the ending setup and line for the lunch scene.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

To celebrate hitting 10 chapters let's show some art of two characters people have been wondering about.

Full size.

(By the excellent Daywalkerrl link to artist's DA page )
And here we see a young Tauria (before she entered into the Legions) being fussed over by her mothers Duchess SilverFlight and Sister Clementia.


There's a couple more pieces in the works, including everyone's favorite two pilots with names starting with Vi.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

We've got a few great things today!

From FishTheTaco232 we have another great sketch.

This one is Tauria in profile with her and her armor,

Spoiler

And we've got some flags.


From WrandmWaffles we have this great flag for House BlackSky.

Spoiler

There are also a couple variants for patches and vehicle mounts

I pyt my hand and put in a draft version of House Alecto's flag.

Spoiler

The other great houses will have flags and heraldry made for them in time as well.


I also posted the final chapter to Our Sister, the Idiot. Which connects to the whole collected set of stories involving these Diyu Demons.
(Specifically it's part of the Dresden Files branch started with Blood Debts).



I'm also 3k words into ch11 of Little Demon, and have a few other art pieces in progress. Including one that has Tauria and her two faovrite people with names starting with Vi.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

To celebrate hitting Chapter 11 Run Though the Jungle (thanks to Scopas for the title) getting to 9,000 words and as a reward to watchers new and old.

Let's have some art of the three characters that everyone has been clamoring about.

Full size.

(By the excellent Daywalkerrl link to artist's DA page )


As promised we have Tauria and everyone's favorite two pilots with names starting with Vi. This one is set a bit in the future, likely after the combat arc starting in ch11.

Personally, think the little Baroness is handling things well. And Visha has experience dealing with the Tanya/Tauria.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
http://fukufics.com

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 11: Run Through the Jungle


My twelfth birthday was an aberration. I had been surrounded by friends and family. I had been adopted and given honors and gifts of great value.

I spent my thirteenth birthday wallowing in mud and flying three combat patrol missions back to back to back, fending off waves of Ziox-trained and Trosier-equipped Ritual Plate in between keeping mad partisans from blowing up an ore refinery far behind what could be charitably called our operating base.

In a way, it was a comforting return to form.

Though, in two months of fighting in the wild lands nominally controlled by House Crocelli, I had yet to be wounded anywhere nearly as bad as I had been while helping my Duchess at that opera days before my twelve birthday.

It could be worse; two days later things had calmed down enough to have a bit of cake. Both Visha and VioletBlood had outdone themselves in their field scrounging. Yes, the cake was a shelf-stable thing that was halfway between a pound cake and a dense bread and the icing had been made using hot chocolate. But given that the nearest village was rather... lacking in amenities and that almost all of our supply VTOLs were filled with important things like fuel, parts, munitions, rations, and other critical components it was impressive enough work.

Even the fleet issue coffee I was sipping was one of my ersatz gifts. Which was far better than ersatz coffee.

I did wonder how much the caffeine could actually help as I tried to not slump in my armor. My faceplate was up and the evening air was cool enough that I was not sweating into my inner flight suit. At least not as bad as I had been earlier today. I shook my head. The Forward Operating Base was adequate enough. The approaches were cleared, we had a good set of supplies and a large enough internal perimeter to put the more energetic supply dumps a safe, safe enough to feel good at least, distance off.

We even had two Spatha Flights. Well... two of the VTOLs were down for repairs, but having our own organic airlift was useful. There was also landing space, faculties, and parts to support Umbra Medium VTOLs. And a Gladius or Pugio Heavy VTOL could land if required, which was useful for the delivery of bulk items. Perhaps more useful for the Legionary infantry and Auxilia than the two Squadrons of Ritual Plate also posted at FOB EmeraldInfero.

I did not know if the sobriquet was simply descriptive or named after some poor hoof-slogger who died here and had cosmic bad luck.

The view was impressive, given how thick the plants and trees grew in the interior of House Crocelli's Eastern Interior Confederation. However, I was not enjoying the view our base gave of the outlying valley with its thickly canopied jungle.

There was too much risk of a sniper in the bush taking a potshot at me. Sure, I could strip out of my armor and put on a worn set of infantry armor, at least then I would not stand out as a high-value target, but that would add critical moments to the time it took me to take to the air.

If I wanted to look at pretty trees I could do it from the air, at speed.

Which meant I now had a great view of sandbags around a mortar pit, and beyond that one of the artillery positions. Fixed defensive assets were counter to BlackSkyvian doctrinal preference, but the Arachne guns were self-propelled. There was also the smell of latrines and spent fuel cells. While House BlackSky was more fastidious than the Empire in such things, when in the field you had to make due.

A shadow came over me and I smelled something a bit like a wet dog, a very large wet dog. Which was an improvement in the local bouquet. In all honesty, I was not at my best given the flight hours I had been pulling.

"Mind if I sit?" the shadow asked in a deep, but very respectful, rumble. If the size was not an obvious clue as to the speaker's identity, the male voice was.

I looked up at the Scout Auxilia. He was nearly twice my height and had to be at least six times my weight. And it had to be all muscle, or hair.

"Of course," I scooted over on the bench that was made out of castoff crates. "Lares?" I asked without even glancing at the plate carrier he wore.

"That's right," the large Forest Person sat down. The bench creaked. It was too tall for me which made my armored boots barely touch the ground. Meanwhile Lares' knees were practically at his elbows.

"I'm sorry about your squadmate," I stated. At least no one in my squadron died on my birthday.

Lares' face was craggy and had a strong brow but his blue eyes held a deep sorrow. "Hosta was an ass. Still didn't deserve it." He opened up a ration box and started eating. Forest People were Auxilia because their size required specialized kit and they lacked wings.

Sure, they could eat the same food as us and even fire the same weapons. Lares for example carried a squad support weapon as a personal rifle, with only a slight ergonomic adjustment for his larger hands and greater length of pull. Other Forest People lugged around a Minerva Rotary canon.

The tri-barrel weapon was normally mounted on vehicles, from the humble Mule to the Lavin battle tank to VTOLs of all sizes. Even for a Forest Person it was an awkward and heavy weapon that consumed ammunition, heavy ammunition at that, at a prodigious rate.

Still, it was a massive firepower advantage especially for a foot-patrol. Regardless of their weapon, their armor had to be custom and they took up extra VTOL capacity.

But when it came to woodland scouts, few could beat a Forest Person.

Until the enemy commanders decided to start shelling their own positions the second their own recon patrols made contact with "invisible forest wraiths".

I sipped my coffee with companionable silence. There was a reason Lares was having his snack in the same interior cameo-netted spot I had found.

His rations were the same as standard legionary issue, he just got a triple serving. And I could not begrudge him the relish that he was enjoying his meal. The packaged meals were rather good, especially if one had time to heat them.

"You don't have a Vanis accent," I noted. Vanis was the southern portion of House BlackSky that stuck out from the rest of the continent of Diyu.

Lares scoffed. "Nope. Eastern Province lad."

I turned and looked up at the giant yeti-like man next to me. "Really? You guys were here before my squad got sent down." Eastern Province had some Forest People, but they were not the most common woodland resident in that part of Diyu. His folk tended to live further to the west.

He snorted. "House sends us to wherever needed, Primus. If I wanted to stay home, I'd have gone into the Forestry and Mines Service."

"Instead you're out here trudging through the forest to protect a mine."

He grunted. "Great Maker has a sense of humor."

I snorted at that. "You don't know the half of it."

"You an Eastern girl too?" Lares asked.

Again I looked up and gave a wry smile. "Don't play big dumb Auxi with me."

He looked sheepish. "Yeah, no hiding the Noble Flight."

I finished my coffee and switched to a canteen. Water was vital, and it was easy to get dehydrated when it started to cool off.

"This isn't about my Flight's air support performance?"

Lares shook his big shaggy head. "Naw, you're real good." He glanced around to make sure no one from the other squadron was within earshot. "With your squadron rotated in, we're much more comfortable with close support. Especially through trees and other cover."

"We try our best," I said with mock humility as my tail twitched. This was all my fault. My plan to get the 5th Squadron all Polyxo had succeeded. My Duchess only had to pay for Visha's suit. Technically, I had paid for it, out of assets from my holdings, but since I was both a minor and on active service, a seneschal was administering County Larium, my land, guild, and industrial assets.

Alexi Frugi seemed a competent enough sort, if mousy, and came recommended by my eldest sister, ArgentShroud. She was actually part of ArgentShroud's staff in her role as our mother's Lady Castellan. What it came down to was that Visha's Polyxo was purchased with my mother's approval to spend assets held in trust for me, to be paid off using the income my portfolio generated every quarter. The accountant in me got twitchy over a calendar that had thirteen months

It was a bit sobering just how expensive Ritual Plate could be. A mid-level, if provincial, noble's holdings could swing it but only just. Though that made sense as my Duchess had her own Ritual Plat squadron of guild mercenary Pilots, not to mention her collection of personal and training suits.

It also said things about the size and value of the Barony of Lilla, VioletBlood's holding, given that she was able to convince her own seneschal to approve an outlay. Though for a young and skilled Pilot from a noble family that had grown... thin on the ground a top-line Ritual Plate was a very sensible investment.

"You do," he agreed, now switching over to his own canteen. Which was more like a full-on water can rigged with straps.

I nodded. I had gotten Quirinus the best equipment I could. Top-line or at least near that. Not everyone had the Mark 15 Gamma Block version of Polyxo, but they were all at least Mark 13 or later. My own Flight had gotten two more Gorgon Rigs, so all four of us were equipped. I had also helped Quirinus adapt a training regimen to get everyone in the squadron to use the extra capabilities, both those who had already been flying the advanced multi-role suit and those who had been using the Polydora.

The giant scout gave a sympathetic look and he tossed me a foil packet. I grabbed it and looked up. The Forest Person gave a shrug. I opened it up and took out one of the red sugar crystals and cracked it between my teeth. The jolt of military-grade life energy flickered through me.

"Not like I need that stuff,"

"Thanks," I nodded. There was no reason to make special field rations for Auxilia who did not have our... special dietary needs. But that did mean their kit had some extras they could trade. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I'll think of somethin'," Lares was amiable enough, and barter was a key economy in the field.

He sighed. "I was the best tracker in my family. I could follow any game and watch them and not spook anything: deer, drake, bear. Started teaching others, and well... got bored with the forests and decided to 'see the world'."

I snorted sympathetically. "And, for the sin of exceptional competence, you get sent to the wonderful Eastern Interior Confederation."

It was a dynamic I was more than familiar with. The Empire had it, but House BlackSky was in some ways worse. Imperial Legion doctrine emphasized strategic mobility. Almost all Legions were air-mobile capable, which meant they could be loaded onto troopships and other airship transports to be delivered anywhere.

This meant that weight was a massive concern. Which put focus on increasing individual capability. A professional Legionary with more training and experience weighed the same as one with less skill, let alone a levy or conscript. And the Polyxo Advanced Multi-role was a prime example of the tradeoff between expense and capability.

"It's not so bad. at least there's forests here," Lares said with mock gravity.

I actually laughed. We had all heard rumors of Forest People assigned to treeless steppes or Naiad handlers stationed in deserts.

"Yeah, and plenty of work for us as well," I added with the same joviality. I would have preferred a quiet posting but this was building up experience, which would make me a more credible trainer and instructor.

"When do you go out on patrol next?"

He shrugged. "They say sometime tonight, or tomorrow. Depends when the other patrols get back, or not."

I nodded. FOB EmeraldInferno supported multiple long-range patrols. Most of them consisted of a Contubernium of Forward Recon Legionaries and two Scout Auxilia. The Legionaries mostly provided extra fire support, supplies, and a bit more mobility.

That was not to say that Forward Recon were blundering oxen. They were light on their feet and skilled in woodcraft and veiling. However, they were still demons. Other than flight, one of the Forest People, the Woods Folk, the Downland Yeti, had all the physical advantages in a woodland environment. They were stronger, faster, had more stamina, left less of a trail, and were, despite their size, much stealthier.

"Your team working well? They're not stepping on too many branches?"

"The ones with hooves are nimble enough, the ones wearing boots... eh," he shrugged, then smiled. "Least I don't have to worry about any of them dropping feathers."

I snorted. That my species was so... varied in morphology was a source of amusement to the Forest People.

It should be readily obvious why Lares' people were largely left to their own devices in House BlackSky's lands. The Imperatrix had no desire to waste Legionary lives trying to fight a guerrilla war against the Forest People. It was easier to bring them in as productive citizens.

Even they needed supplies from cities and settlements after all, and they were superb foresters and cultivators. And that was before their martial skill was counted. The one downside, if one could call it that, was that this meant their traditional land claims were given legal weight. Which made land-use litigation a bit complicated.

"Where in Eastern Province do you hail from?" I asked, with just a hint trepidation.

"Up north by the border."

"Duchy of Argenia?" It was a fair bet, my Duchess was the largest landholder in Eastern Province. Though Imperial lease-holds, which were technically property of the Imperatrix, were also very common.

He gave a nod.

I gave a little sigh. "Please tell me it's not the County of Larium."

The big scout smirked. "Didn't think I'd run into my Landlady out here."

I leaned my head back and polished off the first canteen. Great. He was one of my tenants. Not that Forest People paid rent on their traditional lands, that was part of the concessions they got. Now, if he wanted to do mineral extraction that would involve the County getting a cut. Lumber rights were a whole other mess.

"You're not filing a grievance, are you?"

Lares laughed. "If I had a mine to open do you think I'd be out here guarding this one?"

That was fair. I would have to check what VioletBlood's barony had, but I was pretty sure that even in my mother's duchy the mines did not produce anything quite so useful as the complex to our north.

And that was not even our main source of Samarium, Neodymium, Erbium, and other related minerals. But the Emma Mine Complex was a convenient spot with veins of them all in relative proximity. With the nearby Oraje Refinery, DOS Mijnen was able to supply plenty to the BlackSkyvian and Alecton war machines, with a proper amount going to civil arcane industries.

He gave a contemplative look over the mortar pits and artillery positions. "Small world, eh?"

"Yeah, it kinda is." Visha had been born years before me, in another House, moved to Amber Island, joined the Imperial Legions and then read about me in the broadsheets. I suppose that was one upside to all that embarrassing propaganda, it enabled her to find me in a House of over seventy-two million people.

That meant that Uriel did not have to resort to... creative means to bring us together.

"When we get back, I do wonder..." I looked at my empty canteen thoughtfully. "There any truffles or lobster mushrooms, things like that, in Larium County?"

Lares blinked at me. "You... want to forage for mushrooms?"

"No idea, but some types are really valuable foodstuffs. There's medicinal and recreational too. Depending on the ecology, there might be good assets there. And it'd be nice to have a local who I can trust."

His eyes widened and he looked at me as if I had eaten a mushroom with Psilocybin. "You're a Countess, an Ace Pilot, there's an opera about you, and you want my help?"

"I won't be in the legions forever." I frowned and realized why he was upset: I was being presumptive. "I'm not saying you have to work for me, the offer is there of course. DarkStar's blood, I'd be happy with just some introductions to people you know who are good at that kind of work."

He gave a slow blink.

Right, he had every reason to doubt me. "I am sorry for being such a lousy Landlady. I've been well... a Pilot ever since I got that county. But I assure you I do want to ensure everyone in Larium County makes the most of our bounty."

"With mushrooms?"

"And other assets. But mushrooms, and maybe other game, seems like a safe thing for a Countess to dabble in after she's retired from the Legions."

Shaking his head, Lares took a swig of water. "Sure, why not. I can think of worse jobs. It's something to look forward to, provided we both live out our terms."

"There is that," I sighed.

The big hairy scout adjusted his armor. "I think there's some good Fall Truffles in the uplands of the county. Expensive but not too much. And there's rumors of some Montbard truffles. That's the real money, but pretty guarded. Course you may want to have... who is it that manages things back home while you're out in this lovely place?"

"I have a seneschal and my mother and sister help."

He nodded. "Right, well if you're serious about foraging then you'll want to survey what you have and make deals with the locals, not just my people but the demons and the drow village of Autun. Maybe set up a little guild. There's varieties in the forests, and there's also farming mushrooms. Not all types are good with farming but it's steady production."

I smirked. He seemed to have a good interest, and it would expand my portfolio from just timber, minerals, and manufacturing. "Excellent ideas." I leaned back and looked up at the sky through the netting.

"It's a nice dream, "Lares wistfully said. No doubt he was thinking of home.

We sat in companionable silence for a bit.

And then VioletBlood stomped in. She was in her flight armor but had her helmet off. It bounced from an attachment around her waist. The Baroness' scarlet curls hung limply around her and she looked as worn and ill-tempered as the rest of us. Still, there was an edge of excitement to her.

"Yes?" I asked immediately, pulling myself up to full attention. "What's the status of the rest of the Flight?"

"Visha and GreyDawn just had their maintenance completed and are fueled and armed," VioletBlood eagerly said.

"Good. What else?" Our Ritualista were doing impressive work in keeping our readiness rates high in such a hot, humid, and remote location.

"Quirinus got orders, we're going to be running a strike mission tonight," VioletBlood's tail swished. No wonder the little noble war maniac was so excited.

"Which Flights will be setup with the Lances?" I asked. The Lance batteries that enabled the strike package were powerful weapons but did not have many shots. Often escort would be provided by one or two of the Squadron's flights. Though a Strike-configured RP could fight by itself, so maybe all three Flights would be setup to maximize offensive power. Or maybe the other Squadron at the FOB would be escorting us.

"Current plan is for two Flights in Strike mode and one in Air Superiority running scouting and escort," VioletBlood proudly said.

I eyed her. There was one Flight in our Squadron where everyone was equipped with Gorgon Rigs. Thanks to me. "That would be us?"

"That would be us!"

Lares snorted.

I glared at VioletBlood. "And are you keeping hydrated, Baroness?" I archly asked.

"I am," she nearly whined. "I drank over the worst of the day."

"You should keep drinking, especially in this humidity."

VioletBlood concealed a frustrated little huff.

"If you wanted an easier posting; you should have gone into the Fleet. Think about it; billeted on an airship, with honey cakes and a nice soft bunk," I said with a vicious smile, utterly ignoring my own military career goals.

The baroness muttered something about the Household Fleet.

I shook my head. "What is the target?" That it was scheduled for later tonight implied it was something fixed in position or that command planned to hit as part of a larger offensive package.

VioletBlood glanced about and her tail flicked as she took in the large Scout Auxilia. Even sitting, Lares was taller than she was standing.

"Don't worry about him," I sighed. "While I appreciate your dedication to Operational Security, you can speak in oblique, vague terms."

"Um..." VioletBlood pondered for a moment. "Other reconnaissance assets say they have determined when a supply of... materiel will be delivered to the... to certain separatist elements within Eastern Interior Confederation."

"More Trosic surplus being sent to Diluvian separatists?" Lares scoffed.

Tail flicking, VioletBlood gave me a hurt look as if that was my fault.

I gave her a reassuring nod. "Well, that's something." By Minor House standards, House Crocelli was reasonably well put-together. They had a functional economy, a semblance of civil society, and a military that was more than a source of nepotism and graft.

Being adjacent to a major concession of House Alecto was a factor, giving them plenty of Alecton help, "help", a variety of military and industrial services at... favorable prices, and a ready port to facilitate imports and exports.

However, that was, by and large, coastal House Crocelli. By area, the Minor House was larger than some Great Houses. However, once you got into the interior of the landmass, Crocelli was a collection of petty squabbling fiefdoms. They were nominally administered as Interior Confederations.

"Might not even be the Diluvians," I murmured. Using catspaws, doing back deals, and exploiting generational grudges was a long tradition in this part of the world. Honestly, it was one everywhere. It was just a bit less... civilized in the wilds of Crocelli.

"Would be nice if they stuck to form and just fought the other local broods for who could provide 'security' for the confederation," Lares noted.

"That's bribery," VioletBlood bristled. "House BlackSky would never stoop to paying tribute to house-less barbarians!"

Lares blinked at her before giving me a measured look.

"Why yes, Baroness," I stated. "We don't do that. But our dear allies in House Alecto might be more cynically mercantile in buying off minor rivals."

VioletBlood nodded.

"Where we simply hire various local security experts," I shrugged, my armor shifting over my shoulder. "It's a shame that they are not up to the task and some of their competitors have shown an eager interest in the defenses of both the Emma Mine Complex and the nearby Oraje Refinery."

Lares snorted.

I studied the baroness as she fidgeted. She had been out here with the rest of our squadron and had gone through just as much toil in providing ground support and taking on superior numbers of irregular Ritual Plate Pilots.

"The Diluvians may have been flying second-hand obsolete suits on which they had been trained by mercenaries of dubious origin. But merely having a Ritual Plate was a mass asset to their ground fighters and requires us to respond in kind."

"Dubious? It's Ziox." VioletBlood stated.

"Probably," I agreed. Their assault on my birthday was an expensive shattering for the light Wing they had raised, but our forces had not come out unscathed. And given we wanted to have at least a squadron held at base for combat air patrol and in reserve, it did diminish FOB EmeraldInferno's ability to send out forward missions.

It was gratifying that there were parts of the Imperial Legions who were tracking the logistics trail of parts, tools, fuels, and munitions that were required to supply any military force, but especially one as intricate as Ritual Plate. "Are our spies also tracking their maintainers?" I wondered.

Ritualista took time to train up and while a force could skimp on maintenance for a time... it would rapidly catch up: with reduced operational tempo, underperforming suits, fewer suits, and then no RP force at all.

"It's one of the things we're looking for," Lares noted. "Bit hard to tell just from sight, but sometimes groups moving through the forest have a few tenderfeet you know? Folks more built for fiddling with engraving and enchanting than slogging through the woods. Or they're carrying boxes of tools and parts. Either way."

"It's not like they can use VTOLs to ship them between locations," I noted.

"Could, but we'd notice. And even we can get the sky closed to us." He paused to gauge my reaction.

"We try our best, but there's only so many RP Pilots," I shrugged. As expensive as our kit was and as rare as our talent was, we were always in demand.

Lares chuckled. "Right, only thing worse than being useless in the eyes of the brass-horns is to be useful."

"And the VTOL Pilots and their air crew are in that category. I can't carry any supplies worth a dam but a Load Mistress?"

"She can airdrop a pallet right on the X. Even if it's a tiny forest clearing," Lares agreed.

I nodded and took out another canteen to sip from. My suit had a full internal water supply, but I was saving that for when I got into the air.

There was also the fact that it was easy to hide stockpiles of suits and pilots. It was much harder to hide pilots in the air, especially since there was a Strategic Recon Squadron with a flight's worth of Occultia at the Legionary base by the Refinery's airport.

"They've kept pressure on us, but that seems wasteful," VioletBlood started having some water and a snack of her own. "Even if they knocked out this position. We still have Cohorts of troops by the mine and a whole RP Wing."

"Cuts down our response time?" Lares shrugged. "From here we can stage and supply operations, and deploy patrols more easily."

"Maybe, maybe they wanted to blood their troops, or some foolishness." I suspected that Trosier, or possibly Ziox, had managed to ship a few simulators. Though even that would limit their ability to train for multi Flight operations, let alone as a coherent Wing.

"Some think that way," Lares agreed. "Expensive way to get experience."

"If I were training a guerrilla air force I'd ask for my benefactors to provide a training location outside of my enemy's range or at least not under frequent airborne surveillance," I murmured.

VioletBlood shivered at the word "training". I'm not sure why. When the three Flights of 5th Squadron competed I made sure our Flight always had a good showing. Yes, it required extra flight and simulator time, and I had to get... creative.

However, Visha was an old hand at giving her fellow fliers encouragement and got my Flight and the rest of the squadron to pull together. It's not like I even got the chance to use live ammunition against them. That Telephe Squadron Lance strike passed us well outside the margin of error. And we were completely within the firing arc of that Arachne artillery battery.

I crunched another sugar crystal. I'd also have a plan that would not pit my strength against the enemy's strength. Yes, in that attack they outnumbered the RP assets of FOB EmeraldInferno by three to one. But that was before training, unit cohesion, experience, and operational direction were taken into account.

"They've got the transportation for that." The Diluvians do have motor vehicles. "There's even a pretty good rail network in their territory, if you ignore the sabotage their neighbors keep doing."

"That sounds like Alecto's doing," I murmured. "Still, attacking here would put their strength against ours. That's not the best move for the weaker force."

Not to mention that the FOB had its own scrying systems and multiple mobile Vel anti-air missile launchers. They would have been better off using pairs or Flights of RP as dedicated fire support units for their ground elements. However that was a limited tactic, as such penny-packet deployments would invite a counter-attack from superior air assets.

"Maybe they got war-fever and were all excited from their new weapons?" VioletBlood offered. Of course she would think that way.

But I had to shrug in vague agreement to the possibility. "My worry is that the Diluvians have learned from their costly mistake and are saving their rebuilt Ritual Plate forces for a situation where they felt their firepower and mobility would be decisive. Or possibly they, or their patrons, had scaled back such an expensive investment, and instead had concentrated on infantry arms. Something to more efficiently take us out."

Trosier and Ziox both had man-portable anti-air weapons, and some light vehicular-mounted systems. Loading up Diluvian irregulars with those might be a better expenditure, if they wanted to push back BlackSkyvian air superiority for a local time and place.

Ritual Plate was flashy and had a lot of firepower and mobility in a small package, but the expense, even if you had a patron supplying it, made them wasteful. Unless the Diluvians, or their allies, were planning on building up a real military? If they made a bid to control the whole Eastern Interior Confederation, well... Alecto was very pragmatic in such things, as long as the mine was kept operational.

Though I did wonder if this was not just a squabbling game of "Who gets to skim from the imperial invaders?"

"We're not invaders," VioletBlood testily said.

Oh, I guess that part of my musing was aloud. "They think we are. They think we're Alecto's lackeys. The terror troops they'll drop on their villages and cities and burn them to the ground."

"We are not lackeys!" VioletBlood snarled.

I shook my head. Crazy demons. Though it did lift my spirits a bit to see Lares similarly resigned at her outburst. At least not everyone was mad out here.

"It's enough that they see us as lackeys," I stressed. "People aren't rational. You have to consider their desires and their worldview and knowledge. There's more to battle than learning enemy locations, numbers, and capability."

Looking weary and a bit sweat-shined, VioletBlood huffed. "We know how it goes: we find them, they attack us. We take out their air assets, then go pound them from the sky."

"Probably, but unless the Imperatrix wants to just keep a guard force by the mines until we both muster out, there will have to be some action to address the root causes," I managed not to frown. "Addressing root causes" for an imperial power often amounted to killing everyone capable of fighting you in an area and calling it victory. That is after bribery and vassals failed.

"Maybe just cutting off their supply of air assets will calm things down?" Visha asked as she stepped up to us. Unlike VioletBlood she had kept her helmet on and like me had simply lifted up her faceplate.

My mood brightened on seeing her. Even VioletBlood seemed a bit happier. Though my wingwoman was carrying a sealed carafe that smelled of coffee.

"Ever optimistic," VioletBlood sniffed.

"Without heavy-duty magical and mundane munitions Crocelli's own forces should be able to handle it," Visha said as she first offered the carafe to Lares. "Right?"

Lares nodded his thanks and accepted a surprisingly small amount. Even taking into account his large cup.

"Probably, maybe, at least with Alecto's help," I noted as Visha filled my cup. "How is GreyDawn doing?"

"Submitting maintenance logs to Quirinus," Visha brightly said.

"And how are we doing for parts stocks?" Our standard resupply drop had been delayed for a day.

"Even after that last... intense fight we've still got two weeks of operational capability."

I gave her a steady look. Being an airborne and air assault force the BlackSkyvian Imperial Legions were rather focused on supplies and transport capability. Nearly 15% of active Legions were Logistics Legions. They were eight cohort sized formations of vehicles for airborne and ground cargo transport, with their own organic supporting maintenance, repair vehicles, armor, artillery, infantry, and Ritual Plate. And that was to supplement the cargo and lift capacity of the Household Fleet

"At current operational tempos."

"That is correct, Primus," Visha admitted while pouring some coffee for VioletBlood.

I softened my expression a bit. Our supplies were supposed to be secure. Even with the FOB limited to just BlackSkyvian personnel, our power cells, munitions, spare parts, tools, food, and water were all under guard. If a creative enemy could slip in there was no telling the havoc they could accomplish.

I looked up over the netting and sighed. Military vehicles, including Ritual Plate, were their most vulnerable when they were parked waiting to be deployed, or when being maintained.

Lares tilted his shaggy head. Frowning, his hand went to the large machine gun he carried as his standard rifle.

My tail flicked and I looked at him.

"Pressure's dropping.... Storm's coming in?" he ventured then looked over past the artillery positions. "Yup, clouds."

VioletBlood swore something about her hair and started slipping her helmet on around her horns.

I slipped the foil packet of energy crystals into a side compartment of my armor while Visha sealed up her carafe and Lares policed his ration boxes and plopped his soup pot-sized helmet on.

Just before the sky opened up and it began to pour. The sky had darkened around us as if sunset had suddenly arrived and gotten to its midpoint.

I sighed as fat raindrops bounced off my helmet.

"We should get inside," VioletBlood said after she finished clasping her helmet.

Lares shrugged. "If it keeps up into the night, might be useful." His musing was interrupted by rolling thunder.

All of us, the three demons in advanced flight armor and the immense Forest Person scout tilted our heads. A bit of tension came off us like steam in the heavy rain. It was not artillery, a Torpedo bombardment, or enemy explosives; it was just thunder.

"Yeah, we should get in," I said, relaxing a bit "Find GreyDawn and-".

And then my comms activated. "DiamondDust. Location. Status," Quirinus demanded.

"I have the two Vs; we're behind the hangar looking over the mortars," Slamming down my faceplate, I glanced over the display that lit up. "My Flight is condition green."

"I'm sending GreyDawn to you, get in the air. Now. Coordinates being transferred over now."

"Understood," I swore, hardly noticing as Lares slipped away, doubtless to get to his scouting team to do his part.

++++++

Heavy rain always made flying more challenging for a number of reasons, the two primary ones being that visibility was down and that water grounded magical phenomena.

The decrease in visibility was remedied by navigating with the aid of instruments and with the composite display generated from the scrying systems. Water required dedicated shielding. Ritual Plate was an enclosed system with insulated, isolated power distribution systems.

However, no system was perfect. This meant both that the Ritual Plate's various components were subject to leakage and to the magical, and literal, version of waste heat.

Our heading was roughly southeast of FOB EmeraldInferno. The four of us flew in a staggered diamond formation taking advantage of the higher maneuverability and better response time Polyxos offered to spread out over a greater range and altitude than was strictly textbook. The increased distance between fliers allowed us to make better use of the superior data compositing offered by having four Gorgon Rigs.

It had taken a great deal of effort not to mention political and fiscal capital to get my Flight so equipped; I was going to make use of the tactical advantage provided by our shiny cutting-edge arcane technology.

"Status of Flight 1 and 2?" I asked GreyDawn over the Flight Channel.

She had taken the rear position as VioletBlood's wingwoman, which would help temper my little war maniac. Hopefully. All I could see of the pair from my rear view were the two distortions in the rain-filled night sky, thanks to the effect of the active camouflage system. Said systems did not, unfortunately offer prefect concealment, especially when we were slicing through water droplets at nearly the speed of sound.

"Quirinus' Flight is configured for Strike package and positioning to lend support to whichever target is selected. Mercy's was already sent on a fire support mission."

Great, so that was at least two groups of Legionnaires and Auxilia that had called for air support. And the rain was not helping.

Wards were also a bit mixed in heavy rain. They were an external energy projection and while constantly being hammered by water was technically detrimental; they were designed to resist physical and magical attacks. The net result was that in heavy rain, the amount of power budget to maintain the wards skyrocketed.

At least it was just rain this time. Heavy saltwater spray was even worse when it came to increasing power consumption, given the extra salinity meant that from a metaphysical standpoint there was literal ground in the water. Not to mention that saltwater was corrosive to metal and other materials from a mundane chemistry standpoint.

Which in turn meant that it was also arcanely corrosive. This was why Ritual Plate was not great when submerged in water, especially saltwater. It also meant that for extended Naval operations such as on seaborne carriers or submarines Ritual Plate suits required some modifications to increase their resistance to saltwater.

"Flight Ops. Flight Ops. This is Diamond Flight. Requesting link up with-," I paused to recall the name of the Long Range Patrol. "- Crimson Recon."

"Understood Diamond," the smooth unflappable voice of a Legionary Flight Controller replied. "We have a telemetry update. Connecting you with Centurion Galba."

I approved the update and took in the slight changes to the tactical picture. There was a squelch and the channel opened. "Diamond Flight here. We will arrive in... thirty."

"About time!" A brusque, contra-alto voice said as weapons fire cut in over the audio. "We took out one of their patrols and they called down a demi-cohort on us. Marking targets!" she said before reading off a list of coordinates while transmitting the locations.

I repeated them back to her. Despite the hurry, Galba was more than willing to triple-check an air support run. I switched to Flight channel to confirm the targeting information with my troops then went back to the Recon Centurion. "We're starting the approach."

"Wait until I give the go," Galba was breathing hard and I could hear her grenadiers firing over the connection. Recon Contubernium tended to have a higher number of those arcane specialists that typical formations. "My Auxilia still need to break contact!"

I bit down on a curse. I could understand sending a rearguard to help your own troops withdraw to a more favorable position, and the Forest People did have that excellent, but rare, combination of greater stealth and of greater size and thus firepower.

Jungle flashed below us, the vibrant greenery made into shades of grays by the rain and the false coloring of my scrying suite. Crimson Recon's Contubernium had fallen back to the upper part of a small ridgeline overlooking a river that snaked through the valley. The change in terrain was reduced to a minor undulation by the heavy forest.

"Connect me to your Auxi," I stated, my will adamantine. Our Gorgon Rigs were collating data and despite the concealment provided by the double canopy of trees there was a collection of probable hits and various motions that were likely enemy formations spreading and trying to cut-off Crimson Recon. Thankfully those locations were a close match to the target coordinates

Galba paused. I did outrank her, but normally Legion Fliers providing fire support deferred to Legionaries on the ground. "Patching in." There was a click. "Varro, we've got RP incoming."

"Outstanding!" the deep voice grunted. "Flaccus and I are having a spot of trouble here." A Minerva rotary cannon's firing cut in. Which hopefully was either his weapon or Flaccus's. I confirmed his relative position to Galba and the location of the rest of the recon group.

With those coordinates, I then gave him our approach vector.

"Understood," Varro said before giving the position of the keep out zone we were not to fire in.

"We're starting a Falx run in ten. Walk us in," I ordered. The picture was starting to clear and I was setting my flight on their targets.

Varro chuckled deeply. "If not for these Southern-Sucking excuses for trees, I'd throw out a signal grenade."

"Strafing now," I said, my lips peeling back in a rictus grin.

Four sets of Polyxo Ritual Plate flipped down and went into a descending arc. Following my lead, the rest of my flight put down barrages flanking my own. Orange bolts of energy sliced through the trees to vanish below the foliage.

The scrying intake showed the anti-infantry fire intersecting with many probable enemies.

"North. North. North! One hundred. One hundred!" Varro shouted. When he spoke I could hear the impacts of our arcane attacks in the background.

"Adjusting fire!" I replied and the Falx fire shifted up the slope the enemies had gone down.

"Oh, Desert! They've got a golem. Up slope four hundred. Pilum now!" Varro shouted.

"Confirm." I told him.

"Violet, Grey, fire solution. Anti-armor!" I then ordered. I had no idea what kind of golem the Diluvians had managed to bring with them, but it was bad enough that a Forest Person Auxilia scout demanded an immediate air strike on it.

Heavier Pilum bolts rocked down as large branches started to fall. One must have hit a trunk as an entire towering tree slowly toppled over.

"Keep at it! Breaking contact now!" Varro ordered. "Go Flaccus! Go!" The Forest Person ordered as the two Auxilia made use of the chaos to withdraw. Given their abilities I gave them good odds.

I adjusted my fire further up the slope. "Visha, take their right flank!" I ordered.

My wingwoman complied as we shot past, accelerating to turn and gain altitude. After a quick flip, my Flight was ready for another strafing run.

Yes, Ritual Plate could hover, functionally having no stall speed. In theory, a Flight could park at a high altitude and simply pummel the ground with concentrated fire, but that was an unnecessary risk. Precluding that option was the main reason most BlacSkyvian Legion ground vehicles carried Vel Missiles. The intent was less to hit enemy air assets and more to force them to a greater distance or speed if they wanted to attack.

Hovering bombardment was a maneuver I sometimes took as an Aerial mage. But that tended to only be when lining the 203rd up for a strike on a target without any anti-air assets, such as when we had attacked the capital of the Grand Duchy of Dacia.

Similarly, doctrine allowed for Ritual Plate to slow down when doing fire support on enemies without air power. It was a trade-off between time on target, accuracy of ground attack fire, and risk of being shot down by enemy fire.

Frankly, I considered that the first two could be mitigated by superior training and targeting systems, all without opening one up to a greater risk of enemy fire. In fairness we had slowed down from the dash speed we were at to get here, but that was as much a trade-off between speed and fuel burn as anything else.

"Situation?" I asked, switching to Centurion Galba. I made sure to keep my voice as even as possible. The last thing a hoof slogger on the ground wanted to hear was an excitable, or worse yet, frightened, Ritual Plate pilot.

"Calling in medivac," her deep voice tersely replied. "Varro and Falccus are pulling up but I'm still down two. And I'm sending them out again."

I glanced at my map. Without wounded, a Recon team had a few options. Escaping while air support, my Flight, pummeled the Diluvians was one of the more sensible ones. That would give them time to rendezvous with a Spatha, which would pull them out. With eight legionaries and two Forest People, it would be a cramped fit and the Spatha's operational range would be decreased, but it was possible. That was how they deployed after all.

But if they needed a medivac then their wounded had to get out as soon as practical. Which required a landing under fire, after cutting out a landing zone. Which was why we carried the temperamental Blue Daisy munitions in our Verutum Launchers.

I went to the Flight channel. "Violet, coordinate with Flight Ops. Medivac VTOL is incoming, I won't be surprised if escorting and other assets are inbound too.

That was doctrine as well. Troops and vehicles were vulnerable in transition zones. And landing ops were the ultimate expression of that. Thus the Legions would throw whatever they had to avoid losing a VTOL, getting troops trapped, or both. Because once assets started going down and casualties mounted it was easy for things to spiral out of control.

"I'll coordinate ground fire," I continued before swapping back to the ground channel. "Galba, do you have updated targets?"

"Yes!" She cried, a Vel missile launcher and machine guns going off behind her. "A Diluvian century is trying to pin us so another can cross the river while the third comes in from the side. They've got some self-propelled heavy mortars and are setting up machine guns. My grenadiers have spoiled the flankers but that was just enough to get the Auxilia out."

She passed the coordinates of the main body. "Varro, do you have eyes on the mortars?"

There was a silent click of a transmit button being hit. I suppose I should have some reservations on sending Auxilia troops out to do dangerous spotting, but they were the most stealthy and they only had to see the enemy assets. Though visibility was very reduced given the terrain and weather state

"Excellent," I could just hear Galba's vicious glee as Varro used a keypad to his comms to type out relative position. While the silence was a bit awkward, given the conditions it would have to do.

I split the targeting. VioletBlood and GreyDawn got the main body while Visha and myself took the mortars. They sounded like House Trosier's Gravina self-propelled golem-mounted heavy mortar platforms. They had an internal magazine and could be reloaded from cargo golems similar to our Marius Mules. Trosier mostly used them for amphibious operations, which did mean they could work well with water and rough terrain.

My Flight bent as one and went from our roughly level evasive flight to a steep spiraling dive consisting of complex helical motions. We bled altitude and the grey-false color of the trees shot up towards us.

Scrying intake was overlaid with the target locations. There was some correlation but we were mostly shooting blinded.

"Release. Release. Release!" I shouted. A deluge of arcane energy joined the heavy rain as a part of the forest was ravaged by Falx bolts and another seemingly innocuous part of the forest was hit by a spread from our Pilum projectors.

There was a rumble and then that whole section went up in a ponderous-seeming deflagration as the entire mortar battery was consumed by a cascading chain of explosive as their ammunition supplies cooked off. A whole part of the jungle canopy simply slumped.

"Target hit," Visha calmly stated while I smiled. Water sheeted off our suits as we turned and with a sudden burst of G loading twisted into a wide spiral that would pull us away from the enemy.

VioletBlood was still firing.

"Break. Break!" I ordered. The only thing keeping me from summarily punishing her myself was that she was still in formation. And was thus only expending ammo on a low probability of hit.

I could respect the psychological effect. The enemy did outnumber us, but they had been slogging through the pouring rain in a hellish jungle that was only slightly less painful due to their familiarity. And they had though the hated imperialists were cornered, only for the sky to open up with unseen enemies ravaging them with impunity.

Their heavy weapons were being picked off and the enemy looked like they would once again escape their grasp.

And that's when their anti-air fire opened up and the sky was full of streaking missiles launched from half a dozen positions all over the forest.

++++++

Threat warnings blared and tracks appeared on my helmet display. In an instant I concluded several things: the missiles had some form of external guidance, their speed was impressive though they might have a terminal phase that was even faster, the enemy had spread out a rather large "net" of teams to try and capture whatever RP would be sent in to relieve Crimson Recon.

And finally that our maneuvers had kept us from being fully trapped. Each launch position had fired off about two missiles and was now launching another pair. Which either meant the enemy had fielded a rather large, and well-supplied, team of man-portable missileers or a few light launchers that were holding back some of their capacity. A Vel launcher mounted on a Marius Mule could hold 8 missiles for example.

"Violet! Grey! Aft counter-fire! Visha, clear front with me!" I ordered as I changed our heading right along the river that Crimson Recon had pulled across.

My flight dropped down in altitude and shot to the west. Falx fire from the rest of my Flight spiraled out tagging most of the missiles as they worked to clear their sectors. Making the most of our superior maneuvering and speed, I had us dash at max power.

My wings burned silver as the rainwater started to steam when it hit the feathers. I winced at the arcane bloom of it and put more power into camouflage and veiling. A third brace of missiles had launched and they were using the destruction of the ones ahead of them to get closer.

"Close in! Dive, dive! Visha, follow my fire" I ordered as I switched to my Verutum Launcher and picked the Blue Daisy munitions. These "pebbles" were made of synthetic sapphire grown around a core of silver-edged obsidian. The ruby was laced with gold runes to allow for charging beyond the energy already inside it. This allowed for a higher yield and when detonated would crush the obsidian core powering its one-shot evocation.

The result was a powerful, if expensive, detonation. It had a reasonable overpressure but was limited in ability to pierce enemy armor. And while a Blue Daisy could work in an anti-infantry role, in this campaign it had a more mundane role.

I charged and shot out four Blue Daisies and the munitions vanished into the dense trees in front of me. After a moment I detonated them and the explosions scythed out shredding foliage, but more importantly cutting branches. The canopy slumped a bit and Visha's fire joined in and cut a hole.

It was ragged and messy but it was also more than large enough for us to pass through. Normally cutting a landing zone involved blowing up the upper canopy to reveal the lower one, and then use more Blue Daisy munitions or even Pilum projectors to cut out heavier trunks.

Normally flying in the trees would be nothing more than a prolonged way to commit suicide.

"Follow!" I ordered and zipped through the aperture.

The normal rules were not quite applicable here, because instead of ground below this hole was that wide, but slow-moving, river. To my Flight's credit they adjusted their formation and went through.

GreyDawn launched her own barrage, slicing through the missiles that followed. I glanced at the status display and fought down a slight wince. It seemed that my most experienced pilot had done more than just help VioletBlood in counter-fire. But her systems were still in the yellow zone.

"Where next, Primus?" Visha dutifully asked as we went down the green tunnel. Water whipped all around us as rain poured down and the river sprayed up. Despite VioletBlood's unverbalized complaints I had slowed us down.

My plan was to have us go low, below the treetops, follow downstream and take out the eastern and northern sides of the ground battery crews to link up with the medivac and relief VTOLs.

But... I glanced at the tactical map. "Reverse! We're going upstream!"

"That will take us back to...." VioletBlood trailed off, then let out a malevolent little titter. "Wonderful, Countess!"

Though her bloodthirsty joy vanished quickly when I increased our speed after we changed direction

I switched channels. "Centurion Galba, Scout Varro. We are doing a close support run. Mark enemy positions visually. Repeat! Visually."
"What?" Galba's surprised but weary voice cut in, but she still gave the order to her grenadiers. Meanwhile the Forest Person simply gave a dark laugh.

The sounds of combat came up and we turned a bend as the river split up into a shallow, natural ford. And two whole centuries of Diluvian troops appeared.

Wearing dark green uniforms of a rubberized waterproof material that resembled shorts and stockings with an armored vest the Diluvian soldiers had short carbines and a fair mix of heavier weapons. One roughly-century sized formation was halfway across the river while the other half was still wading across. The other formation was still entirely on the far side giving fire support.

There were broken bodies and shattered trees and equipment strewn about everywhere from our first strafing runs. And Crimson Recon likewise was resisting the vast numerical disadvantage, leveraging an elevated position to put their weaponry to good use against the oncoming enemy reinforcements.

Then four Ritual Plate suits raced in, a bare twenty feet over the rippling water surface. I would like to think that the enemy paused in disbelief at our sudden appearance.

But even for those with our vision the night and intense rain limited visibility. Until several angry red flares were shot out by the grenadiers and they got a clear look at the figures racing in as blurred grey-green shadows.

The four of us opened up with Falx fire. GreyDawn took those across the river and provided the closest support, while VioletBlood pounded the river so hard that parts of the surface started to steam. There was so much water, and it was all moving, that none of the enemy would actually get hot enough to be boiled alive, but I doubt that was much consolation to them as their visibility was clouded and no small number slipped under the water and were trampled by their comrades.

Visha and I went right down the throat of the troops on the far side of the river.

Small arms fire bounded off our wards. A few units had both crew-served weapons and the sense to try to bring them to bear. They were the first ones targeted.

Ritual Plate could hover and I could see the argument where other Pilots would slow down in light of the extremely confined, extremely low-altitude area and count on the sudden shock and terror of the enemy at facing magical armored battle suits. It was one thing to fight Ritual Plate at a distance with your own airframe, arcana, or missiles, it was another when a seemingly impervious suit was right there staring you down with an impassive death mask faceplate.

But I was not other pilots, nor was I flying with a standard Plate jockey. I had a veteran of the 203rd as my wingwoman. I had a woman who had seen everything the Rhine Front could throw at her and walked out the other side with a smile. We had spent two lifetimes as flying combatants. Neither one of us would just stop and stand still in midair to fire.

We flew into the enemy and tore them apart. Those who could run, did. One nice thing about the pouring rain was that the blood that splashed onto our armor was quickly washed off. Maybe a bit too quick for a major physiological effect but I saw enough Diluvian infantry freeze at our forms to know there was enough. We were close enough to feel their courage curdle into fear and boil into naked panic.

We were close enough to feed.

I knew they would regroup and fight us again. Likely quite soon, but pursuing them into the forest when the enemy had had time to regain their sense and set up ambushes was suicidal. A giddy... predatory part of me wanted to chase them down, rip the survivors apart and feast. But I held back.

Besides, that would disappoint Visha.

She had done so much to be here at my side.

At least we had confirmed that they had been equipped with Gravina model self-propelled mortars of House Trosier manufacture. Also that third Diluvian formation was still out there. They had withdrawn from Crimson Recon in mostly good order. From the radio intercepts it sounds like they had pulled through a nasty ambush that only a pair of irate Forest People could set up.

Looking down at the rain-soaked bodies around me, and firing an idle shot at the few stragglers who could still be going for weapons, I wondered which would be more of a visceral experience: having the equivalent of a pair of attack helicopters drop among you, or being hit by a pair of giant, yet invisible, monsters with crew-served scale weaponry?

In addition to decimating the enemy formation, that also allowed the rest of Crimson Recon to adjust their position. I meant a colloquial decimation, not the actual punishment the Imperial Legions technically retained. Meanwhile, Visha and I fell back to VioletBlood and GreyDawn's position.

"Back to Crimson Recon," I ordered, gasping a bit and checking the power and munition status of my Flight. We were getting pretty low, but I considered that a fair tradeoff. "Everyone take some water, now."

"Check fire, Centurion," I said to Galba. "We are coming in to your north, low and slow."

"Confirm Diamond Flight. That was some close shooting there," Galba stated in a mix of awe and resignation. Doubtless she was worried about being saddled with some glory-seeking fools in magic armor, but I hoped my efforts to relieve her position had brought at least some tolerance form the career centurion.

"Yeah, well the sky got a bit crowded up there," I said before switching to Flight Ops and updating them on the situation. Any relief force needed to be made aware.

I paused. I must have miss-heard the recon Centurion. "Crimson Actual, could you repeat?"

"Can you share some of those kills?" Galba stated, a bit of frustration in her voice.

To my great shame, I nearly hit a tree. To be fair, without a river to block undergrowth it really was like flying a thread through well... a forest of needles, "For?"

"I have wounded, and my medic is running low and... meat is meat."

"Meat is meat," I echoed. I exhaled and went to a private channel. "GreyDawn, I need you and VioletBlood getting... supplies for our friendly medic. Our baroness was still a bit idealistic so a dirty job could help her season."

"Ah, yes. That would help." My most experienced Pilot cleared her throat. "You want me to make sure VioletBlood picks the best?"

I wondered if there was a subtext I was missing. "Yes, she can use some experience, and you can only carry so much. We'll be covering you two. Who knows maybe a... snack will help heal the wounded enough that we won't need a medivac," I said with forced joviality.

While we could heal a lot of physical trauma, it was a matter of careful application of life energy and other supplies. That we even had wounded who needed evacuation meant they had to be rather seriously injured. I doubted that even a skilled field trauma surgeon, let alone a medic, could do all that much to get them back to fighting shape, not without a massive infusion of life energy.

But it was important to keep up morale. And if... we had to use some enemy dead... So be it.

"Understood," GreyDawn's voice was tight. With a click then went to the Flight's unit channel, where she was, as normal and was all business. "LoveBlood! We've got a special job from the countess. Do what I say and don't ask questions."

Visha and I kept overwatch as the two went about their work. Under GreyDawn's expert eye, they picked a pair of rather intact enemy casualties and we flew over to where the recon team was.

The only reason the forest we flew through was not burning down was due to the constant, pouring rain, though the grenadiers had tried their best. There was blown-up wood, mangled bodies, carbines, and other kit, all heaped up in a great snarl of pulped garbage. It was not the job-lot production at the river, but there was an intensity that showed a lot of close ambushes and combat. Parts of the fighting had been red in tooth and claw.

No wonder Galba had ordered out for some fresher meat.

I motioned for VioletBlood and GreyDawn to deposit their flopping cargo by an impromptu aid station that had a freshly pulled up tarp over three Legionaries. Two were covered with burns and had sodden bandages, tightened tourniquets, and intravenous lines.

Two hulking Forest People standing guard were kind enough to help move the limp bodies over to the medic. Cracking a bit of my helmet seal, I sniffed the air and found myself thankful that the constant rain deadened smells. Those two hardly had the smell of death on them, though that stink did permeate this whole part of the forest.

I had plenty of experience knowing that corpses could gurgle and even seem to moan when their bodies were pressed. It was a sickening parody of life that had been common in the trenches, though rarely were the noises this lingering.

Still levitating, just enough to be eye-level with her, I turned to face Galba. The Centurion seemed to be lean to the point of all sharp edges and dense muscle. Dark hair was shaved down to a buzz and her horns curled up as she stared at me.

Purple eyes darted to the aid station and she softened a bit. "I won't forget this, Countess," she quietly said.

"It's nothing," I assured via external speakers. Once I saw VioletBlood and GreyDawn had finished I went to the Flight Channel. "Everyone, go up to the tree line. I want some scouting about what's going on, but don't expose yourselves. Just quick up and down."

Only once I had some air cover restored did I let my boots touch the ground with a squelch.

I looked around at the beaten squad of demons and Forest People. I put my arm on Galba's shoulder. "Good job. I'm just sorry we couldn't get here faster."

Her tail flicked. "You got in more than fast enough."

I nodded and turned to look at the weary troops, my helmeted gaze taking them in. They had been out in the field a long time and their munitions were running low but they were still unbroken. "Thank you. But we still have a job to do."

"The Imperatrix has given us a burden to bear." I glanced up. "Fortunately, in her wisdom, we are not alone." I raised a fist. "I have heard from Flight Ops. Relief is coming. It is our job to make sure the other RP Flights find clear skies and the ground troops can land safely."

Gabala nodded. "You heard the Primus, Crimson Recon!" There was a ragged cheer.

"Just a bit further," I assured, the likely lie smoothly slipping past my lips.

End Chapter 11


At least this time Tauria had some idea of the consequences of her upgrade plan.

Also there's been some more art of the chapter showing Tauria and people important to her. Check the relevant threadmarks for them.

Thanks to Readhead for coming up for the Chapter Title and DCG for some of the buisness ideas Tauria and Lares could have.


And special thanks to especially to DCG, Ellf, Green Sea, Readhead, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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

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


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

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



+++++

"Chicago was on fire, and it wasn't my fault"
-Halley BlackStone Copperfield Dresden

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I didn't know why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Problematic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You want their help?" Lara sniffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Prowess! I'm a succubus too!"

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

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

Lara rolled her eyes. "Come on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite all that, I had lied to him.

I jerked my hand after three beats, not five.

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

And that's when all my plans where shattered.

The Fomor had arrived.

+++++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shock went through the room.

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

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

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

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

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

They expected a betrayal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes black, Mab stared at the head.

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

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

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

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

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

"A declaration of war," BlackSky interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shrugging, the librarian adjusted her glasses.

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

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

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

The Fomor flicked his hand.

And everything was, briefly, kinetic.

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

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

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

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

The Guests because they were guests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mab...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mab's rigidity resumed.

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

I hoped Lara was nearly at the Marina with Thomas.

BlackSky simply let her gaze pass over Corb.

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

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

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

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

Corb's anger grew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once more the room was stunned into silence.

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

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

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

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

One eye was a crystalline emerald green.

The other...

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

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

Before me was a goddess.

My breath caught, I felt rooted to my spot.

The room moaned in terror and adoration.

One of the voices was mine....

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

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

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

She spoke....

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

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

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

BlackSky's grin became knowing.

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

No one spoke.

No one moved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ethniu turned to her emerald gaze transfixing her.

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

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

Ethniu seemed momentarily taken aback.

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

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

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

"So you say," the mobster deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Corb roiled with indignant range.

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

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

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

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

Her smile was glories and terrible. "Finally."

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

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

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

Immediately.

Not... in about four hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They failed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The city was consumed by total darkness.

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

I was on my knees making pained sounds.

I was not alone.

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

The last Titan, and King Corb were gone.

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

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

Seeing they were all getting back up, BlackSky nodded.

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

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

"Dawn, can you do it?"

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

"Go, light the Beacon."

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marcone confronted them as they tried to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My aunt nodded to him with a thin smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Etri looked the pink-haired demoness over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

Would the mortal powers accept their help?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I could see why my elder sister liked him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My guts lurched at that.

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

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

Ethniu had to be in league with the Outsiders.

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

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

They had to understand, what was at cost here.

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

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

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

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

"As do I," BlackSky stated.

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

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

Marcone twisted his face. "Indeed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room's entire attention was upon BlackSky.

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

+++++++++


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From his raised eyebrow, I thought he was flattered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ferovaxx exhaled but kept his peace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Understandable to be honest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marcone almost bowed his head at that.

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

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

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

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

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

I frowned. I had read the history, some of it, and the legends, some of those of BlackSky...
I understood why she was more than willing to take Ethniu and Corb's insults. She was not dismissive of their power, but while they were belittling her, she was studying them.

She had prepared a counter to their betrayal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn, crazy demons.


End opener.

And this is just the start of the "Battle of Chicago" project.
I've got ~40,000 words written on it so far. And when it gets more to it. It will be its own thread.

But since this segment was the Side B of the previous Side Story I figured it would be good to show *why* Tauria was part of a force that was invading Chicago.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

We've now got more art of Tauria.


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


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

Full size.

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

Chapter 12 is now at 10,000 words and I hope to have it up soon.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
http://fukufics.com

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 12: Dangerously Petite Pirouette

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

And that was the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Target 1 Eliminated," I transmitted.
"Target 2 as well," VioletBlood gasped. I checked her status. There was some minor damage to her systems but she and GreyDawn were still combat-capable

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They're open to revision."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Diamond!" Visha eagerly said.

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

"Go, Diamond," my squadron commander said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

++++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nodding, I saluted.

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

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

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

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

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

"Danger close," Flaccus murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was almost at them...

Eyes widened and the Diluvian was about to react.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Small consolations were about all one got in this life.

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

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

Varros brows knitted as he considered his options.

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

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

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

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

"Both," Falccus agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Varro gave a quiet chuckle.

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

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

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

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

"Scouts in position," Varro said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Scrying data confirms," the Countess stated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

"We can scout this formation. Find out where their leadership is, or something critical. Make it so our artillery isn't just pummeling random troopers," Varro offered. A curtain barrage was a valid proposal, especially when the enemy got closer and thus their total frontage shrank.
However, with only four Arachne guns. The enemy could push past that, if they were willing to soak the losses, especially if they had a flanking attack. Not to mention our guns had a limited supply of ammunition all of which had to be flown in. Though the VTOL pilots and their load mistresses were very skilled at field resupply and air drops.

There was a pause as Otho consulted with others. "You think you three can keep making use of Diamond Flight?"
"What's their status?" Varro asked.

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

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

"Confirm, Diamond, you hear that?"

"Of course," the Countess stated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Falccus snorted and gave the hand-sign for mage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she was killed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The channel was quiet for a moment.

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

++++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Flight ops?" the Umbra's Pilot inquired

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

"Will it work?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Level drop or dive?" I inquired.

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

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

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

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

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

"Appreciated," the VTOL Pilot said.

I switched to the Flight Channel. "Okay, you've all heard the outlines of this plan. Questions?"
"Wouldn't it be better to just saturate the enemy using our Pilum Projectors?" VioletBlood asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was a group effort," I stated.

"I'm sure it was."

"How did the convoy strike go?"

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

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

"Went a bit heavy on the Pilum?"

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

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

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

That did not reassure me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My, you are a thorough one," Quirinus mused as my Flight moved into position, giving her a full squadron once more.

"She does have some experience with Trosic suits," Mercy noted.

"More than some," Primus Caenis, Quirinus' wingwoman, and her assistant in running First Flight, said.

It was always good when someone else touted your accomplishments. I studied the updated map of Vhin and the Garrison. It was easy to fall into the illusion of omniscience, especially when an Occultia was in theater.

"That we're seeing Zioxan hardware is new. Plus, I just spent the night helping blow up a lot of Trosic material and two Diluvian Mage Platoons - meanwhile you took out a whole convoy. The enemy is willing to spend a lot tonight."

"You think this isn't just them sending some Ritual Plate to erode the air base?" Quirinus was skeptical. During our time in FOB EmeraldInferno we had taken out a lot of Diluvian RP Pilots. But, Quirinus was professional enough to not discount the enemy's capabilities in her eyes, despite our earlier successes. The Diluvians were fighting for what they considered their land, and to force out foreign occupiers. That their efforts were supported by other Great Houses, and that they had a clear resource-rich asset they could profit from if they won were beside the point. The Diluvians were motivated and had managed to survive despite reprisals from House Crocelli.

"Maybe not just that, but I saw enough Toulon missiles and their Villeneuve. I think they mean to contest their airspace, maybe do more than that locally."

"Things are tight, but you raise a good point," Quirinus allowed. "I'll see what I can get out of Flight Ops. I'll share my preliminary plan based on what we know of the enemy and see what you all can find. I'll then link into Crocelli's comms but they've been having troubles."

I kept in a sigh. Our esteemed local allies supposedly had a capable communications system. It was equipment they had purchased from House Alecto, but even with Alecton assistance their maintenance and procedures were not up to Great House standards.

Primus Caenis, Primus Mercy Gabinus, and I looked over the map and made a few points, having some quick back and forth.

"It's a problem of goals and capability," Caenis said. "We're not here to fight this far for them."

I held my tongue at that. I had lifetimes of history of seeing Imperialistic powers trying to hold onto satraps subject to internal revolution. Win or lose, it ended up a mess. On the upside both House Alecto and House BlackSky seemed to be rather rational in aims and scope.

"The Eastern Interior Confederation is not our problem," Mercy stated. "But if the Vhin Garrison falls that will make multiple of our Forward Operating based open to flanking and possibly encirclement."

Which would then reduce the defense in depth we had around the Emma Mine Complex and the Oraje Refinery. The main reason why House BlackSky cared, and even a major contributor to Alecto's interest. Concessions from the rare metals the mine produced were a major source of hard currency that House Crocelli used to purchase arms, mostly from Alecto. BlackSkyvian weapons were a bit too expensive for their tastes, as were much of Alecto's catalog.

"The ground support and strike elements we can do are limited. Even if we get solid comms with garrison forces, they simply have not been trained to work with us," I reminded. It was a point of pride that the Imperial Legions integrated calling down air support at the lowest possible levels. Ritual Plate was assigned organically at the cohort level, which meant that a bog-standard Centurion had a pool of RP to often as not call down fire to support her Century and to help coordinate air defense.

Few Great Houses had as much airpower, let alone Minor Houses.

"At least we're all passable in Bantish," Mercy allowed. Due to their close Alecton ties, House Crocelli had Bantish as one of their official languages, and used it as their official military tongue.

As such, we had been given a crash course as part of our familiarization training before our transfer to this theatre. Thankfully the Alecton language had enough similarities to Dutch that myself and Visha could use our knowledge of Germanian as a vague bootstrap. Also growing up in Amber Island did give her some experience. Meanwhile, VioletBlood was already fluent due to having private tutors, and GreyDawn had already served multiple tours alongside Alecton forces.

"Yes, yes, and we are allowing for a far greater margin this time," Caenis said, a bit stiffly.

"Agreed." I wondered if her attitude was due to if the worst happens and there was friendly fire on our part, it would be Minor House soldiers dying. Despite being nearly as wasteful, Black on Blue fire was mentally easier to accept than Black on Black. "However, I would think a force heavier Harmonia or other air superiority configured suits would be better suited."

"Alas, we are what is available," Quirinus stated as she returned to the channel. "Flight Ops has a Harmonia Squadron refueling and rearming and will be sent back up. Upside, the brass horns are worried that the Diluvians have built up or purchased more airborne assets. Downside, they're still thinking where the Diluvians will be using them."

"Having us weaken the defenses around the refinery by committing our squadrons elsewhere could be their goal," I noted. It was a rather cold-blooded way to fight, sacrificing your own units to draw out the enemy, but Oraje was a massive complex and one that was of very high value.

"Hence the concerns. Still, there is motivation to helping the Vhin Garrison." Quirinus paused to go over our plans and made a couple adjustments and confirmed we knew them. The plans were all very fluid. At the moment there was something of a lull in combat around Vhin. "Okay, disseminate to your Flights. For the moment, my Fight will be reserving our Lance capacity, which means targets of opportunity will be key. But remember the Garrison's own forces will be doing attack runs."

I then switched to my Flight channel and briefed them, as well as adjusting our vectors and having us take the leading edge of the Squadron's formation.

"We're going to be the ones doing the target scouting," GreyDawn noted.

"Our Flight does all have Gorgon Rigs," VioletBlood stated.

"Obviously," I said, not at all waspishly.

"Primus, how concerned should we be about the possible Zioxan Ritual Plate?" I had to give Visha credit, she was able to present my main concern in a way that did not undermine the chain of command and reflected her own experience.

"Reasonably. While I can see why the Diluvians would want something better than a Cadiz, a Zioxan suit would require more retraining." While there was a lot of commonality between Zioxan and Trosic Ritual Plate in design and development history, jumping from one House's suits to another's was a steep learning curve, especially for green Pilots.

"Then... mercenary pilots?" Visha asked as we started to approach Vhin. The town was beside a river and served as a natural crossroads with the Garrison looming above it on a clear-cut hilltop, complete with a pair of runways cut into the leveled and graded terrain.

"Expensive, but if they only want them for a mission or two, it could be worth it," VioletBlood allowed. Our formation had spread out, to maximize the intake from our Gorgon Rigs. While our suits were not perfectly invisible, especially with the pounding rain, our passive scrying intake was still enough to add more resolution to the composite tactical display.

One upside of the torrential downpour meant that Vhin was not going to burn down. It was disheartening and wasteful that one of the Diluvian advances was coming through the town itself. And in avoiding the ground attacks from the Garrison's Archer RP suits, fixed-wing aircraft, and light artillery, they had gone into various residential and commercial buildings. Which had done little to deter House Crocelli.

It was a mess.

But despite being outnumbered the Garrison seemed to be holding. Though they had just lost a ground attack aircraft to a swarm of Toulon missiles.

Lovely.

After tying in the Flight leader channel, Quirinus raised the Garrison's flight controller. Her Bantish was clipped and professional as she updated our position and status to the local forces. And then the rest of her Flight Leaders did the basic handshakes to link up with the Garrison.

It was rough and ready but at least it kept us from having to call our Flight Ops and then have Flight Ops talk to the garrison.

Ominously, the Garrison's flight controller did not have much new information to give us; worse, she sounded nervous.

"There is a heavy mortar battery, but its got some air defenses," the Garrison's dispatcher awkwardly said. It could only be partially blamed on her own limited command of Bantish. Still, she managed to give the coordinates with clarity.

And they did match up with an enemy location on our display. On the far side of the river and a bit upstream, the Diluvian position was outside of the range of the quite anemic light field guns of the Garrison. Their fire was rather inaccurate at that range, but seemed of little concern.

"Okay girls, we'll go with Option 2," Quirinus stated after switching to just the Squadron channel.

I talked with my own Flight on our channel. We were to be at the front and would act as a screen to take out the enemy's long range air defenses, while allowing for two members of Flight 1 to come in for a Lance Strike.

We had just started to change vector, when a heavy squadron or Ritual Plate took to the air. I frowned as our Gorgon Rigs helped resolve what they could from the scrying intake.

"We have Zioxan suits. Based on those climb rates and that emissions control we're seeing Satori or Tjardu models," I calmly stated, ignoring the growing apprehension in my stomach.

"Confirm, Diamond," Quirinus stated. "Change of plans."

And then a transmission came over the Open Channel. The one that used an unencrypted protocol known to all the Diyu Houses. "Countess DiamondDust, you killed my sister," a voice purred in Silvan Latin with a slight Zioxan accent.

I blinked. No. How would she even find me? And why spend so much effort on a personal grudge?

"Is this that Samoth woman CSR warned you about?" GreyDawn asked over a private channel. "She actually went mercenary?"

"Don't be so shocked," Samoth Rodswor laughed. Well, she sounded enough like the War Mistress. "There are only so many all-Polyxo Legion Squadrons in the Eastern Interior Confederation. You ruined my family name so you could scramble out of the muck. I intend to return the favor."

I sighed. And all it would take would be getting a picture of one of us without a helmet on at FOB EmeraldInferno or maybe even on leave.

"Primus DiamondDust," Quirinus pointedly said over the squadron channel. "Much as I love it when military matters are sidelined by nobility with hurt feelings. I trust we will all take out this dilettante out for revenge with little fuss? No sword or fireworks this time?"

The Zioxan Ritual Plate squadron leveled out and took up a reasonably coherent formation. Depending on their equipment, they might have the edge on us in maneuverability and air to air power. They also had the advantage of an anti-air system behind them, which, if properly integrated, gave them a severe positional advantage.

However, that this Samoth was using psychological warfare as a first move indicated a degree of pride or desperation.

"You could blow her out of the sky with a Skofnung stuffed full of Vel Missiles for all I care." Grinning to myself, I exhaled, knowing I was speaking to the whole squadron. There was no need to actually talk back to the enemy. If they expected a head-to-head duel then House Ziox really had no comprehension of how House BlackSky actually conducted war.

"Tell you what: whoever kills this blowhard, I'll cover your drinks for the next time you get a three-day pass. And..." I purred. "If I manage to kill her, then I expect all of you to chip into the squadron coffee fund, no more of the cheap stuff."

End Chapter 12

Well... if it isn't the consequences of Tauria's actions. (And I'm not just talking about the late War Mistress). In this chapter I wanted to show exactly why the Forest People were so valued as Scout Auxilia by House BlackSky (to where they were given dispensation to retain their ancestral lands) and show more of just the total mess that such "bushfire" wars can be.

Special thanks to especially to DCG, Ellf, Green Sea, Readhead, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

And special thanks to Readhead for the pallet drop idea.

Update: And we are now 3/4 done with this little re-update package. It's gotten easier given as time passed I had more and more people actually helping me edit this thing.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Not one Step Further

So, given the previous two snippits were at the first of April and March.... I figured I could go for another.
Though.... we may be pushing the limit.

This is set futher into the whole Battle of Chicago.

And this time the POV is from a Household Fleet Telephe pilot
+++

Not one Step Further

The Titan was impatient.

She had grown tired of harassing attacks by the Legions and the systematic destruction of their scouts and Huntsmen. Probes had been repulsed and our forces had been able to land in good order.

Supposedly a band of Jotun had been routed by a Troop of Vestal Light tanks reinforced the Einherjar, 2 Senior Wizards, and Dame BlackStone. A human cemetery had been hit by a barrage from an entire artillery maniple after necromancy was discovered and Praetor DawnStrike assaulted it with a group of Broadcast Recon, and again Dame BlackStone was there.

As an Avalon class Heavy Carrier the HFV Valhalla held an entire Ritual Plate Group, nearly four hundred pilots. Including the Countess' Hellions, who were good enough Pilots for Legionaries.

We were the 6th Squadron of the 4th Wing of the 23rd Air Group in First Home Fleet. My Zephyr pushed me forward as my armored wings trimmed back. Scanning the ground that scrolled below us, I saw flickering fires and dark streets.

Human cities were not normally this dark. The Titan had changed that. All the power systems, electrical and magical had been destroyed in the Titan's first strike. Though with her own forces in the city, she seemed loath to repeat that tactic.

Along with our sisters of the 5th Squadron and the 8th Squadron of the 3rd Wing, we bore stolid Telephe Pattern suits. It was a legion joke that the Telephe had the best bodices of any Ritual Plate and the second most complimentary hip armor, especially the bomber variant.

The Telephe was less nimble than the Harmonia air superiority suit, but more agile than the Sarpedona ground support model which was about as close to a brawler as a high-speed enchanted armored suit could be.

Though tonight everyone not protecting fleet assets or escorting landing craft was in a ground support role. The War College Boffins and prim Librarians were not willing to write off the Enemy's anti-air capabilities. Enough of Fomor casters had ranged capabilities that could take out a suit that got too close or too slow.

And the Fomor started out the battle with an impressive number of small, but lethal squid-like fliers but, according to rumor, Dame BlackStone had rallied her own air troops to take them out. Which was mighty convenient if true.

Either way, the Boffins were only willing to strip down the fleet's protective squadrons so much to increase our ground support. There was a chance the Fomor had some sort of anti-air capability and our ships would be very vulnerable without their fighter screens.

In any case, the somewhat more lumbering Sarpedona were more than earning their keep in helping Infantry Cohorts pound Fomor ground positions. Again the Legionary Fliers were earning their keep.

In all honesty, our Telephe Ritual Plate was a heavier version of the Harmonia with elements of the Polydora all-arounder. Built with more warding and a stronger set of enchantments to have more forward thrust from the Zephyr and an increased power capacity for the evocation Lances, the Telephe was the primary long ranged strike platform.

Despite all that, we Telephe were not idle. The enemy had plenty of high-value targets: logistical hubs, command posts, arcanist spell-slingers, or simply troop concentrations that were valuable enough to warrant strafing by a strike squadron, but not valuable enough to get a Torpedo lobbed at them. Even a bombardment flotilla could run empty if the cruisers and torpedo bombers gave enough fire missions.

Our Squadron was currently circling in a large oval circuit midway between the city and the Valhalla as a ready deployment. The Valhalla was positioned well inland of the burning remains of a major airfield. A large number of the local's aircraft had gone down when the Titan had crippled the city's systems. It was harrowing to see so many large fuselages burning. Intact they must have been elegant, if brutishly large, planes.

Apparently, spare landing craft from the Valhalla and her escort ships were rendering aid, and dropping a couple engineering centuries.

Last we heard, the casters were trying to get some of the runways cleared. Either as a position in case our assets needed to land, or as a base for local reinforcements. We didn't know which way it would go. Rumor was that the indigenous fixed wing assets were incoming and Flight Ops was already coordinating.

Of the 12 of us in the Squadron, myself, Valerie, and Celeste were fitted with Gorgon scrying rigs. The joke was, since we had the largest horns, it fell on us to bear the burden of the enhanced sensor suites that clasped over our helmets and faceplates with extendable antennae and other enchantments.

In all seriousness, doctrine was to have one member of each Flight setup with Gorgon rigs. That was one thing I agreed with that bloodthirsty Legion Countess, the brass horns were dragging their hooves on pushing the next upgrade of our scrying systems. Her Demi-wing had already launched and there were rumors she was in the city's university district doing some sort of skullduggery with Broadcast Recon.

Still I made sure to make the most of our capabilities.

I had zoomed in on the dark street below, filling part of my helmet display. The eerie light that flickered closer to the shore and the low clouds of smoke had started to drift over. Fires from the airport were coming in from the other direction. Cars littered the road, so it had not been that full when the Titan released her pulse attack. I idly confirmed, that my scrying telemetry was being sent back to the Valhalla. While what I was looking at now did not seem to be any tactical value, it was good to confirm the system was working. And who knew what those clever girls could come up with.

The Gorgon's audio pickups were not perfect but it was enough to confirm the road below us was silent. The main noise was the thunder-like cracks of artillery towards the heart of the city.

That thought chilled me. That was a lot of heavy ordnance being used in a densely populated area. On the other hand we were a lot of heavy ordnance, and we had gone on three strike missions already with our suits just being refueled and rearmed.

My attention went up to the partial cloud cover. In the dark they were sullen shapes that reflected the fires beneath them and combined with the drifts of ash made it obvious how some of the Imperatrix's Daughters earned their names. My helmet Display helpfully gave an overlay of the various vessels.

The Flight Leader had more powerful, and difficult to control, Zephyr for greater maneuverability. Primus GreenBlade was not quite as agile as a Harmonia dancer, but she could take out anyone who jumped us before they lived long enough to tell the difference. And the remaining two Flight members Clarissa and Felicity carried extra lance batteries, having two more of the armored conformal flasks with their dense arrays of sullen, runes along their torsos. The rest of us only had four. Those pods contributed to the bodice comments Telephe Ritual Plate earned.

I exhaled and debated taking a sip on my drinking tube. The chatter from my Flight was subdued. We were thinking it would not be long before we were called to help put out some brush fire. Though the Fomor was starting to learn that congregating large numbers would start a timer before something heavy was set their way.

Instead, we were to be sent to strike the most High Value of targets.

++++

We had expected the Titan to attack the Svartalfheim embassy. It was a fixed position closer to the Lake and thus to the Fomor's main body, their lines of communication, and supply. It was also where the artillery batteries that had shelled the Fomor's beach landings was positioned.

The Embassy formed a lynchpin to much of the East-West defensive line. With enough defense in depth, it served as a landing zone for our largest transports ever since the initial drop. Meaning the embassy had been reinforced by many flights of Pugio VTOLs filled with armored vehicles, munitions, supplies, and Tormentas of artillery.

There were at least 2 reinforced Arachne batteries at the Embassy. They were serving as one of the main fire-support reserves. Unlike the artillery units with the Cohorts closer to the front, which had to constantly change position, these could provide persistent support and had a greater number of tubes to call upon. And since they were not moving they could have a greater number of shells to call upon.

But with the strategic risk of providing a centralized, mostly fixed asset. Despite assurances from the boffins to a lack of Fomor capability, counter battery fire was an evergreen concern.

The grapevine that quietly chattered through our dispatchers in Flight Ops back on the Valhalla even whispered a few Torpedo ground launchers might have been deployed. Which seemed an odd spending of cargo capacity, but that was the rumor.

Regardless, no sensible commander would push through and leave a fortified position like that in her rear. As long as the Embassy stood, it was a prickly firebase that could hit the flank and rear of the Fomor lines as they advanced southward and westward.

Thus there were mutters when the calm voice of the too young sounding Flight Ops in our ears informed us that the Titan came with a Fomor Host of at least 7 unruly cohorts. Though there were 5 more immediately behind that reserve, bringing to a reinforced legion strength.

We had expected her to be at the front of an attack. But not quite the target she had picked.

In the Imperatrix's name, we had fought enough House wars to guess the overall strategy. The Fomor had numbers. They had ground troops, They even had an impressive number of combat casters, about a Mage Company in support. But without the Titan they had a severe deficiency in heavy ordnance.

The Boffins, Librarians, and Legates wanted her to take the Field.

And they got their wish, but war is a Democracy, the enemy gets a vote.

I exhaled and glanced over the Display projected from my eye-lenses. Systems, enchantments, and spirits were nominal. Power was good and the Flasks for my Lances were steady.

A simple chime went off on our com channel; that indicated deployment orders, and the young Flight Coordinator started talking in a crisp, calm official voice that was far from the more openly playful tone she used when giving gossip.

Instead of hitting the prepared lines of the Embassy, the Titan was attacking from the North on the western part of our lines, far from the lake.

Her target, the 12th Legion Severitas which had been attempting to flank around and contain the Fomor's inland, and possibly northern, expansion.

The too calm, too young-sounding, she was probably only a few years out of the academy, dispatcher directed our squadron. Of course she was calm, her position was somewhere deep inside the Valhalla's Combat Center.

It sounded like the 12th Legion's Sarpedona suits were providing airborne intelligence, unless there was a Occultia Surveillance RP Suit observing. With more emphasis on veils and an Euryale Scrying system that put my Gorgon rig to shame, and less on weapons, the Occultia was one of the most expensive Ritual Plate patterns.

Which was saying something.

Moreso it took a special kind of mind, above and beyond being able to bond and manage the Zeprhy to handle, organize, and broadcast, the torrent of far-roaming data the Euryale Scrying system took in.

I could find targets, enemies, ground conditions and transmit those to the rest of my Flight, or squadron if need be, even back to the Valhalla, but that was an augment to my strike role. For an Occultia Pilot, her job was to take in the entirety of a front and pre-process the results tagging things of interest to give the Boffins a head start. It was nearly a magnitude of difference in the level of data collected.

Squadron commander Prefect Vorenta gave the order, and we dropped in altitude and started accelerating. After leveling off at a building-buzzing height, we soon surmounted the sound barrier. Other squadrons followed but I concentrated on the dispersal of ours and terrain and target tracking ahead for my Flight.

The four of us were in a diamond formation with Primus GreenBlade in the lead, myself following at her left, and Felicity and Kelly with their extra evocation capacity were on right and aft position respectively.

We were given a lopsided trajectory to follow that would allow for us to accelerate and come in at different angles and at nearly the same time.

Already supersonic, our arc would have us close in, myself, Valerie, and Celeste would confirm the targeting data, that is the Titan. We would fire our Lances and then flicking in sharp turns we would race past, our course never directly passing overhead of the target.

We could then regroup and make for another acceleration, lock-on, attack, and turning run.

Or that was the plan.

Streets, buildings, and blocks raced past us as we closed in. Operationally fighting with our air assets this close to the city was almost like fighting in a water closet. You had to be careful with your wings when you turned.

All of us had a scrying setup that gave a bit of distorted vision with the forward targets looking closer than they really were. However the Gorgon rig made it worst for me.

And that was why within less than a minute of getting our strike orders, I caught sight of a Titan taking on a Legion.

Legions do not fight in neat rows and blocks. That's just for the parade ground. House wars involve combating other succubae. Organized militaries where the basic hoof-slogger has flight, some regeneration, and at least a basic skill in magic. Not to mention that every House that can defend its territory has some form of heavy weapons, indirect fire, and air power.

Thus forces have to be dispersed when possible. Urban combat is worse than an open-field battle in that regard, given how buildings limit avenues of movement and the terrain can be even more broken and littered with choke points.

Thus it was not easy to estimate how much of the 12th Legion remained.

Furthest away from us were the shredded remains of what might have been Infantry Cohort or at least enough Nymphs, Mules and bodies. More than the distance, it was hard to get an idea as an entire group of intersections and surrounding buildings had been blown apart. Not to mention the Fomor was trying to advance, with great difficulty, through that area.

Time spiraled down. My attention went ahead of the beaten zone and spotted the Titan herself.

She was hard to miss.

Head and shoulders taller than anyone else even at this distance her beauty shone in the night. With skin of gleaming bronze, her silver hair flew behind her. Ethniu strode as demon empress, a goddess of old. One eye glinted emerald, while the other was swollen and burned an angry red.

The Eye.

The Eye of Balor.

My suit automatically tripped its heating elements to reduce the chill and my Zephyr picked up on my agitation and my thrust increased a bit as our formation kicked in that much more acceleration.

It helped distract some of my attention from what the Titan was doing.

++++

"Everyone thank Valentina for pointing her out," our Flight leader GreenBlade laconically said as I fed the targeting data to the rest of my Flight. "Lock target; Charge Lances."

I extended my arms as the runes inscribed on my gauntlets flared as the accumulators took in the power from evocation capacitors, the 'flasks" stored around my waist in armored conformal bands that made up my "bodice armor".

Massive, devastating energy transferred from their relatively stable and quiescent storage accumulators to the Lances themselves. In a few seconds they would be a roiling, ardently-flensing power ready to fire.

The Titan had support, perhaps a Century or two of the long-limbed yet bulky warriors the Fomor seemed to like and a squad or two of disturbingly-amphibious-seeming casters.

But she seemed to ignore her escort as she strode forward.

Minerva rotary cannons were not intended for continuous long-term fire. It used too much ammunition and it was better to hit a target then move to the next. Instead I saw no less than a dozen of those guns, on Scorpions, Mules, Nymphs, and Vestals lancing out constant streams of fire.

The First Cohort was double-size and populated by veterans. They seemed to have... at least the bulk of their strength. For now.

Vel missiles launched, mortars fired. Ground attack Ritual Plate circled about and lighting and fire burst out. Not to mention hundreds of rifles and dozens of machine guns. Most of the fire was controlled.

However, most of the time she was too close to a Legionary Position for Arachne to hit her. And it did nothing to slow her.

A cynic might point out that being taken out by our own artillery might be a kinder fate for the Legionaries. The titan was not always quick with her kills. Various golems had been used in a screening role as the remove combat vehicles could be more readily sacrificed and there were nearly drifts of mangled Scorpions.

I focused on keeping the targeting info up to date and sending it to my Flight and the rest of the Squadron.

"Mark the bitch, hit her, then turn. We're the cavalry, we'll get another run" GreenBlade assured.

Our of seeming frustration, Legionaries had adjusted targets and savaged her escorts. The casters tried to put up shields, their heavies tried to take some cover, but a level of fire that their Empress could laugh off scythed through them. More managed to brave the lines in an attempt to support their liege, only to be cut down.

At this airspeed the telescopic view from of the Gorgon rig was more like a collection of snapshots. The imagery rapidly flashed by each a snapshot, each a moment in the battle. It would overwhelm, or at least distract a normal pilot, but we were trained to take in, compartmentalize, and separate vast data.

Maybe not as much as an Occultia Pilot, but unlike them, we were expected to gather intelligence and fight.

The Centuries withdrew by fire team. Their mules and Scorpions were often used to cover their retreats, the remote-operated vehicles being far easier to sacrifice.

She advanced. She could only be in one place, so most got out before she could reach them. The only time she ran was when she sprinted to try and catch any groups that tried to flee instead of fighting to the last.

The Eye fired in angry beams that burned to look at, even through the Gorgon feed. Wards on one Vestal Scout tank held for a moment before popping like a soap bubble and burning through armor. The beam cut through the heavy smoke the vehicles grenades were popping off which at least got time. Releasing their own smoke, the other two in the formation had quickly reversed to behind a building and managed to continue their harassing fire.

The dispersed formation kept it from being a total slaughter. Scout Tanks, Nymphs, Legionaries, even Umbra Medium VTOLs burned. But they were too far apart, the defense in depth was too deep for any attack to kill all of the First Cohort.

The vast majority of the Legionaries managed to withdraw. It was the unlucky or the slower or the brave who got hit. They might not be able to stop the Titan, but she was not able to kill with impunity.

The heaters in my suit kicked on a bit more as we closed in. The next few seconds added more detail to the battlefield. I hoped the bowfins were learning from this. I hoped they could separate the horror and make tactical choices.

We had fought powerful beings before. We were part of a strike that took out the 6th Daughter of Grand Admiral Trosier. However, the attack against Virgox the 2nd Eldest daughter of Luxon was less successful. I had personally struck a blow to her, but she did not fall that day.

But this was an inexorable power. The blood and screams were more than even the most intense cauldron, and it was not even, yet, a rout.

"Confirm Lances are free and charged. Max power," GreenBlade stated, her voice utterly professional. Only a few seconds had passed since her last statement. The intention was to use the majority of our power in one Lance strike.

The Titan was also just the center of the battle. The 12th Legion Severitas had 7 more cohorts and they flanked the flagging First Cohort. These were Cohorts of high mobility on Medium VTOLs, more Infantry Cohorts, another light Tank Cohort, and a headquarters unit with artillery and Ritual Plate and other assets.

For the enemy, spreading behind the titan was the Fomor host, roughly 7 Cohorts. Various warbands of human, Fomorian, tentacular, ape-like and various other horrors were pressing. They had more Cohorts of reinforcements coming aright behind them

The battlefield was a quick teacher and they had learned to not group up. While their Mistress could kill any in her sight, she was in only one spot.

Naturally, the Fomor tried to follow behind her.

Across the grave of the luckless Infantry Cohort Ethniu first destroyed, the Fomor attempted an advance.

I say attempted because behind the Titan was a curtain barrage of no less than 2 Arachne batteries. The beaten ground destroyed the dead of that Cohort, but it also thinned out and shattered the Fomor attempting to back up the titan.

This made it so they have to brave that line and cross the barrage and accept the mass casualties, or flank and hit Cohorts that were not being ravaged by the Eye, or wait for the artillery to run out of munitions, or for the Titan to get to those guns.

A two-tone warning chine came over our comm channel.

We had fought powerful beings before, and their main limit was they could only be in one place, they needed conventional troops to exploit breakouts and weaknesses.

The First Cohort of the 12th Legion was dying by inches but it was costing the Fomor for every step.

And then we came in range.

Maybe a minute had passed since the target disposition alert chimed on our communications channels.

My tail adjusted as I trimmed my wings back. Ethniu was terrible and mighty The Gorgon feed made it look like I could reach out and touch her.

And then I did.

The Runes on my gauntlets spilled out beyond my fists. The lenses to my helmet automatically dimmed.

Two blue-white beams of antic power stabbed out from me to the Titan. Each as thick around as my thigh, the lances were joined by the pair GreanBlade fired and four brighter, waist-thick beams Felicity and Kelly and their more powerful evocations had launched

But we were just 1 Flight, of 4 Squadrons.

Nearly a hundred blue-white lances of pulsing destructive power were slammed into the Titan. We came in at different angles and altitudes but our coordination, and training, made it so nearly all hit her, and at almost the exact time.

One moment the Titan stood there her armor shining and her silver hair flying behind her like a banner. She was mid-stride one foot up.

The next moment she was consumed by blue-white beams. Aimed at the right spot a Lance could take out a battleship. It could rend an enemy formation, spear reinforced bunkers. A dozen could overload airship-grade warding shields. And we hit her with a hundred Lances.

Each beam flickered out for less than a second but delivered enough energy to cover her in blinding light as the street boiled around her.

The beams that missed cut through the ground gouging trenches that radiated around her in a flaming starburst. There were a few burned out vehicles and even an overturned truck behind the Titan.

Our attack angles had been set so that any missed shots would hit the Fomor lines instead of ours. The handful of near misses from our attack rendered two Century's worth of Fomor supporting the Titan into smoking ruined meat. Some had used the vehicles to take cover. Some had held a bit further back and tried to use some of the smoldering buildings as cover.

The Lances burned through all of that.

The lucky ones were consumed into charred husks, the unlucky had only parts of their bodies hit by the Lances, leaving burning flailing remnants that slumped the ground.

The Titan herself staggered. Her upraised foot quickly went back and she stumbled as the Lance-light faded revealing metal skin that pinged and shimmered from the heat. An attack that had set the asphalt roadway and concrete sidewalks aflame left her form pristine, save for a drop of blood that trickled down one nostril.

"Break, break, break!" GreenBlade shouted. Zephyr shrieked as our Flights snapped in their turns and started accelerating away from the Titan.

+++

Screaming in affront, another few drops of blood trickling down from her nose, Ethniu raised her gaze. The Eye sliced through the sky.

The 12th Legion's Ground Support RP launched their own attack in an attempt to distract her and cover their infantry's withdrawal.

Our formations spread out and each Flight and took a different vector. The venomous hateful crimson beam scythed through us, as we maneuvered and jinked, but better a handful of Ritual Plate than entire Centuries.

My suit chilled as I and the other Gorgons fed telemetry to the Squadrons. The Eye's path of destruction was overloaded with a flared cone showing the areas of most risk.

There were a few screams on the line as some Pilots were unlucky enough to fall under her immediate gaze. To even see us at this distance in such an awful night showed impressive far-seeing as she tried to knock more of us out.

The beam might be all-powerful but we had fired at maximum range which meant the Eye had a massive half-hemisphere of sky to cover to get all of us. And with every moment we got further and further from her.

The Titan then whipped her head and the Eye flicked towards us.

My heart pounded. "Incoming," I intoned pinging the lower port octant the Eye's attack was coming from.

The Titan's gaze was not a flexed thing, she twitched and adjusted her gaze in response to our maneuvering. Zephyr flared and wings twisted.

I idly noticed the Arachne Artillery had started hitting her directly, but the Titan could not be dissuaded.

Kelly was still in the aft position of our dispersed formation. She suddenly pulled her wings in and dropped beneath the Eye its power just burning her tail. We has spread out so that the Titan should not be able to get all of us, and even if she could the other Flights would make it out.

Felicity followed and twisted but the Eye lifted and speared right through her.

Her scream was shortly lived as her flesh and armor cooked and the psychic backlash from her dying Zephyr hit us.

The imagery and sensations burned into my mind as I rolled over and pushed my Zephyr until the air spirits screamed. Flicking up a wing I rolled over and shifted.

The coldness of my suit suddenly turned to fire as my left wing caught the force of the Eye's Wrath. That entire side was baked and my arm blistered within the armor and the remaining two-thirds drained evocation flasks automatically discharged.

I screamed and the displays went off as my enchantments flicked and I started to fall.

Looking over I saw the Eyes' beam rise up attempting to go after GreenBlade. And then the flasks detonated.

They gave a couple flat thumps that knocked the air out of my chest. I tried to exhale and concentrated. My right arm went to my throat and flicked the armor under my pectoral to hit the manual restart.

The good news was that I could feel my Zephyrs had survived the hit.

There was a hum and the enchantments started to power back up. I concentrated on the spell and the growing line of runes at the bottom of my field of view.

Only then did I look back down to confirm how much altitude I still had.

The dark city rushed up.

Wincing I slowly spread my right wing and started to catch some air. Angling my tail to the left side kept me from entering a spin, but it would be enough to slow down.

Not with half of the joints to my left wing simply gone and the remaining membranes cut to ribbons. Fortunately, I was a Ritual Plate Pilot.

The first thing a pilot had to be able to do was bond with and direct air spirits.

And my Zephyr, while shaken, were alive.

After confirming that my collection of spirits could slow my airspeed I started to look for a landing spot.

Several buildings below me still stood. There was a variety of sizes. Alas I was a bit too far south of the lines and I could not see any friendly forces within range.

Upside, a hard restart was all my Gorgon rig needed to be restored.

Striking a balance between defensibility and observability and egress I quickly evaluated the available landing areas.

And I aimed for the largest flattest roof I could see.

Time was short, and my Zephyr were already bleeding off speed and helping my remaining wing nudge me along. They pushed to slow me down, but increasing thrust was another factor.

The mercantile building was between twenty and thirty stories and had a broad roof with several heating and cooling structures atop. To one side was a round VTOL pad marked with an H.

I ended up landing near the edge and my knees bent taking in the weight as I leaned forward.

Air blew around me and I exhaled. It took a moment to get used to the feeling of ground beneath my armored boots.

I focused on the emergency landing procedure. After checking my perimeter and seeing that I was secure or at least isolated I then took stock.

My wounds were not crippling; I could mostly use my left hand, but I was flight ineffective. Having only one wing did that And there was a fair bit of pain along my torso where I had an explosion go off near me.

Once I was as reasonably sure I was not bleeding anywhere under my armor, or at least not heavily bleeding, I took an injection from the suit's medical pack. The numbing from the targeted analgesics was distracting but far less than the flensed wing, sheared bones, and bruised ribs.

Physically I could be better, even after I regrew my wing, my suit would need to be fixed.

And of my suit, I had no evocation flasks for my Lances, but I had my suite of conventional close-in and stand-off weapons. The Gorgon rig was already functional and my Zephyr were present if upset.

I sipped some water from the drinking tube and snapped open my helmet. Cold, smoky air brushed my face and nostrils as I opened a thigh compartment and started munching on a ration bar.

The helmet had a nutrition tube too, but compared to that "broth" even the most worn old chocolate wafer bar or bland jerky was far more palatable. I chewed thoughtfully, crushing a sugared energy gem between my teeth, thankful my maintenance crew stocked the good stuff as I checked the rest of my suit's systems

The Ritual Plate looked worse than it really was. The outer armor was scorched and there were dents and gouges in the matt grey material and dark blue steel brushed filigree, but the enchantments were solid enough. The biggest problem was that it, and myself, were down a wing.

I was not mono-focused. Getting lost in a status display on the battlefield was an easy way to get killed. Fortunately, I was a skilled multi-tasker, even by Pilot standards. And that's when the trouble started. It was one thing to look out over the ashen, deadened cityscape.

It was another to let the sensation of millions of terrified minds. My hands clenched, armored gauntlets starting to power up as I flexed my knees, the suit responded to my greater tension and I exhaled. This city was insane. It was huge, without power, without magic. Plunged into a nightmare of an unexpected invasion.

I focused on the Gorgon's systems. I could control that feed. There was less... emotion. Less leakage from all the poor people dumped into a battle to the knife, a world of tooth and claw.

I swallowed my snack, took some more water, and looked at the next part of the check list.

All that was left was to check my communication array. I flipped the channel and sending a ping to my Flight Coordination I wondered if the rest of my Flight had made it...

My shoulders shook as I remembered Felicity's screams and relived the echoes of feeling her die. I exhaled. It was not the first time we had lost people. I concentrated. "This is Volantes Centurion Valentina Orbez, 6th Squadron, 4th Wing."

++++

This voice from Flight Ops sounded a lot older to my ear. "This is Valhalla Flight Control, we read you. Condition?"

"Grounded, medically stable, position reasonably secure," I stated as I scanned around the roofline. It couldn't have been more than half a minute since I was hit. The battle was still going on. RP Squadrons were crossing the sky.

"I'm reading that your Gorgon is functional; can you resume telemetry?" There was a pause and before I could answer she came with another question. " Valentina can you confirm your location?"

"Yes Valhalla Flight, sending telemetry now." I then read off some map coordinates based on the building I had landed on.

There was another pause. "Can you get eyes on the Titan?"

Well. So much for getting a Spatha dispatched to pick me up. Yes the local airspace might not be the most safe environment, but if the Titan could be avoided...

But no, I had a mission. "Affirmative," I replied

I crouched a bit further down and made my way further north on the roof. Key was to get a comprehensive view but not silhouette myself. I was high up, but anyone with the right eyes could see someone if they stood on the edge of a roofline.

The Titan was impossible to miss. I was closer than the majority of our strike mission, and I was relatively stationary. Getting a lock on a titanic figure in the midst of combat was trivial.

She had advanced maybe halfway down the block and was now midway between intersections. At the moment no one stood before her, which meant the rain of artillery and Ritual Plate had intensified. It was enough to have her put the Eye's gaze skyward, but she was still advancing, and our forces were pulling back mostly behind lines of concrete debris, burned-out vehicles, and shattered brickwork that had been piled up.

The Fomor behind her had tried to keep up with her but their effort was desultory. The retreating First Cohort had created a concavity in our lines. And beyond the Titan's spearhead they had been unable to advance on the flanks.

I automatically split my focus and had the Gorgon Rig gaze further afield. The Svartalfheim embassy was eastward closer to the lake. I could see the flash of artillery in maniple strength as 4 Arachne batteries rotated through targets. Something that had to have been a ground launch torpedo shot into the air, and was followed by a storm of smaller Vel Missiles.

Interesting. Were the Fomor marshaling their remaining air-assets? Beyond the Embassy, to the North and even closer to the lake was where we estimated the Fomor had their main reserves and logistics support.

It was certainly where they had made landfall, and had dedicated a lot of troops to securing a cordon and lines of communication back to the beach. They had expended a lot of manpower to try to brave the beaches and move equipment and supplies across that zone.

More of my focus returned to Ethniu

I could not be the only one with a visual on the Titan. I suspected that there was likely at least one Veiled Forward Recon team in a dedicated spotter role. And there had to be at least one Occultia Pilot up there. The Valhalla had an entire Stealth Surveillance Squadron. And one Flight of that were Occultia.

But, if we were all at different orientations, and different altitudes... then the War College boffins and Librarians could triangulate and cross-check our data.

The First Cohort was pulling back under cover of the Arcana Engineers setting up a ward and swelling up the breastworks raising the height of the stone cover. The Eye had a cooldown period, but that only bought time.

The Engineer's portable Wards were intricate, expensive bits of kit designed to provide protection from air assaults and artillery. They only delayed the Eye slightly before their warding shields failed, but it was more time.

Though, in all technicality, even the thickest earthen barrier the geomancers raised up was merely concealment and not cover. So, far nothing had been able to stop the Eye's power, only slow it down.

By then the Fomor were starting to catch up and the Titan resumed her advance.

She bounded atop the concrete rubble barricade as two Centuries pulled back while their Marius Mules on remote control with Minerva rotary guns opened up. It did little to slow her but it was enough to allow several squads of Alpinum in their ceramic armor to advance.

Assigned to the 12th by BlackSky herself, they were the Legate's personal guard and advanced troops. That the 12th's commander was not there, and instead the attack was being commented by a willowy-ripcord-thin, flat-eyed Tribune wielding an equally slender sword did not speak well for the Legate's current condition.

Seeing the troops, the Titan smiled, her ethereally beautiful features twisted in cruel pleasure. "Finally! Enough running! You half breeds are abandoned. This is not your-"

And then a Vestal scout tank's main guns hit her in the chest and neck.

She let out a howl of anger, more upset at being interrupted than for any impact of the enhanced armor-piercing rounds on titanic bronze. She then jumped down and raced through the withering fire of the Alpinum Guard from across the street. "Then die, you rude Swine!" the Titan screamed with such volume that I did not need my Gorgon rig to hear her.

"Keep focus," Flight Ops said in my ear.

And then in a teleport flash followed a blinding arc like the first rays of the rising sun shot across the titan and her supporters. As smaller flashes flared around her, a tall pale figure with glossy black hair, curling horns, gold wings, and a black armored gown slammed into the Titan at just the right angle to knock her back onto the barricade.

The imperious figure was slimmer than her mother, but retained much of her regal bearing as she took the Tribune's long sword. The steel lit up, the entire blade glowing with a bright golden light as the air around it shimmered with heat.

Behind the figure, the minor flashes had revealed the matt-black light-armored figures of the Broadcast Recon troops. who had teleported in with the Daughter.

Ethniu looked down at the demoness with mocking grin. "Finally. I thought your breed were nothing but cowards. Who stands before me?"

The black-haired demon gave a thin smile. "Praetor Peregrinus DawnStrike. Before your father imprisoned you, I was conquering worlds at Mother's side. This petty host, this tantrum, goes no further. You will not advance."

++++

Sizing up DawnStrike, the Titan laughed. "Bold words." And then the light of the Eye shot out.

Instead of consuming the Praetor, there was a golden flash as she swept her sword, stepping inside of the beam's arc. Sunlight lit up the battlefield like a barrage of star-shells and the Eye's wrathful crimson power gouged through the golden ward raised in the sword's wake.

But by then DawnStrike was past the attack.

The Titan turned her head and the Praetor continued to turn, to the larger woman's side and slashed up with the tip of the luminous incendiary blade.

Moving with an even quicker blinking speed, Ethniu still screamed as the empowered sword kissed the side of her hip, leaving a flaming line of bubbling blood.

"You!" she screamed.

"Ah, well I was told someone with sufficient divine, or infernal, power could wound you." DawnStrike gave a little salute with the sword. "Let us see which I am."

Behind the Praetor the First Cohort continued to... evacuate. Broadcast Recon troops that had arrived with DawnStrike were helping teleport others further out and rebuild lines. The barrages on the Fomor Cohorts intensified making sure no one could get to their Mistress. It was all a continuation of previous retreats, but with more resources and organization.

And with a Daughter taking up the full attention of the Titan.

Ethniu had screamed and pounced at DawnStrike, the sword almost opened up her arm but she turned nearly gabbed into the demoness the Eye burst into ravening light and -

DawnStrike vanished in a golden flash.

She reappeared behind the Titan and yanked her hair back and down and tried to spear through her neck with the sword tip.

The blade creased the Titan's neck as she twisted, her sliver hair trying to tear out of the Praetor's hands. Turning, the Titan crouched at the knees and grabbed one of DawnStrike's arms and twisted. The was a snapping sound as she tried to backhand her away.

Yelling, DawnStrike smashed the sword against the taller woman's face, on the side without the Eye of Balor. There was another sunburst and the newly half-blind Titan tried to grapple the shorter woman but there was another flash as she teleported away.

"Coward! You are all callow and craven!" Ethniu screamed, seemingly trying to sight with the Eye itself.

While snapping her arm back into place, DawnStrike appeared to her blind side and tried to stab through the Titan's torso. Her green, mundane, eye regained focus and Ethniu flickered back as the sword just missed her.

"You are too slow," the Titan crowed as she stomped forward. The Eye flashed again and DawnStrike dodged and brought up the blade's light.

This time the golden ward shattered and the sword was immolated, for a bare moment turning into a lightly enchanted Legate's blade before it boiled away.

As the Titan tried to grapple with her, DawnStrike's tail went up slicking long fingers for the taller woman's trouble. Claws extended and both hit as DawnStrike tried to go under the floating ribs on the back of side far from the Eye, and the Titan simply flicked her wrist, the blade of her hand slamming into the Praetor's torso,

A bit of blood sprayed out DawnStrike's lips as she teleported further back.

"You lack commitment. If you had stayed you could have cut me deeper." Ethniu smirked and rubbed the small scratches on her side.

"And where in your sad life of imprisonment did you learn that?" DawnStrike laughed.

Ethniu charged her and the Eye of Balor burned. DawnStrike managed to evade but I gasped as her right wing just barely avoided the blast. The Fomor cohort a block behind DawnStrike did not far so well.

"Do not lose contact with the Titan," Flight Ops ordered, her tone clipped and urgent over the transmission.

"Mother knows the depth of my commitment," the Praetor said as the Titan tried to close and land another blow with immense fists.

"Where is your precious Mother? She abandons you like this!" Ethniu kicked out and managed to connect and there was a crunch in DawnStrike's midsection. More blood came out as DawnStrike caught Ethniu's right wrist, twisted and, using her entire body, turned it over and bent her hand back. With a burst of strength that flashed golden light down the street, she snapped it.

Ethniu screamed and held the broken wrist.

"Pain is new to you. Is it not?" Gasping, DawnStrike smiled.

"You will suffer. I will wear you down and when you can't run, when you realize your precious Mother sent you out here to die, then you will have oblivion." The baleful gaze from Ethniu's green eye was almost as hateful and intense as from the Eye of Balor

Looking behind the Titan, confirming that the Legions had withdrawn, the Praetor laughed. "I pity you, you have no one behind you. No one to trust. So much pride that you have to do everything yourself."

Ethniu charged and the Eye flashed.

DawnStrike teleported away, and then a 3 tone chime came over my communications channel.

The one that meant incoming Torpedo strike.

+++

The Fujiwara Aerial Torpedo was one of the main forms of power projection in the Household Fleet. Squadrons of Mace Torpedo Destroyers guarded the troop and armor transports and fleet cargo ships. And every RP carrier larger than a Mellona Medium had at least a few Torpedoes.

But the bulk of those 2.7 ton, 26 foot, missiles were dedicated to fleet defense with some for ground support. Which in light of the Fomor's negligible airborne and anti-air assets meant those munitions were basically dead-weight.

And while most of the Valhalla's torpedoes were for Fleet Defense; as an Avalon class heavy carrier, she had 48 torpedoes. Which gave plenty of space for ground support and other strike assets. The Battlecruiser HFV DarkStar was also lurking about. It had participated in the initial shore bombardment and rumor was that the DarkStar was using its stock of Madhu's Trident aquatic torpedoes and compliment of Torpedo Boats/Bombers in an anti-submarine warfare role.

Not to mention Landing Fleet had a Bombardment Flotilla with 2 Maul torpedo Cruisers in the fleet, each with 40 torpedoes and a Pike Torpedo Boat Tender that carried half a squadron of the quick, lethal craft.

Part of the barrage was too fast to follow. Even the Gorgon rig had a hard time getting a visual lock on something with a terminal speed over thrice the speed of sound. I managed to get enough data to tentatively identify one set of torpedoes. The other set was traveling far slower and was easier to identify.

Four supersonic shipkillers detonated just above the Titan. The Ascalon was a standard dual-purpose 700 lb warhead designed to pierce capital ship wards and puncture armor. The alchemically treated explosives were lensed foreword into incendiary jets as the backwash from the torpedo's detonations leveled the city block around their impact site.

The Titan was consumed as massive explosions shot through her and turned the area she stood upon into a crumbling crater.

The other torpedoes were slower and instead of hitting one target spread out along the entire line of battle. The Gae Bulg was a nasty bit of ordnance. A subsonic Torpedo, it exchanged reduced range for increased payload capacity. Instead of a single warhead, it carried over 150, 2 lb barbed sub-munitions. Though that was only half of the anti-infantry damage. The bomblettes were released just Surtalogi fuel air torpedoes also detonated. in incendiary clouds.

Nearly two dozen of these ground support weapons fell along the Fomorian lines. Much of a cruiser's loadout. There were also Log Mor anti-vehicle torpedoes. Like the Gae Bulk, the Log Mor had a heavier payload, but instead of a mass of smaller bomblettes, it only released 2 dozen larger Plumbata penetrators. These were designed to pierce armored vehicles and had independent targeting.

The Fomor did not have any such assets. I supposed the Notus spirits guiding those munitions went for whatever large or high value targets they could hit with extreme overkill. And because the Fleet Ordnance Department were pyromaniacs, the Log Mor also had an incendiary over blast.

Dealing with mortars, artillery and Ritual Plate had given the Fomor some experience in the importance of dispersion and dealing with air attacks. But even an Arachne battery pummeling your lines is a pale comparison to a heavy Torpedo strike.

It was like watching a few grid squares on a tactical map being swept clean.

The street was utterly obliterated as the Fomorian host had its heart ripped out and most of its lines cut down. Their reserves, as those further away from our lines, got some of the worst of it and were hit by overlapping firestorms until a crater similar to the one that had buried the Titan had formed.

And then the 12th Legion's entire Arachne maniple resumed firing at the Fomor that had managed to survive the Torpedo bombardment and had decided to move in some way.

"COWARDS!" the Titan screamed as she clawed her way out of the crater. It looked like her wrist had healed. Once at the crater's lip, her eye swept in a low arc as she circled her gaze. The First Cohort had used DawnStike's fight to pull to a safe distance. They might not have been out of range of the Eye but they were out of Torpedo range.

The Fomor Host shattered. Some with maddened fury or bleak resignation tried to charge the 12th, but more simply fled. Both were hit by the might of a Legion with full support. Ritual Plate Squadrons took out Lance attacks on larger concentrations and Sarpedona used conventional evocations to burn the Fomor. The RP squadrons left the largest groups for the occasional Torpedo to neutralize.

The smart ones stayed put, or moved to the nearest cover and hunkered down.

I shivered and focused the telemetry on the Titan. But I wondered where DawnStrike had gone to. For that matter where was BlackSky?

The three tone notice chimed again.

"Face ME! You COWARDS!" The Titan's frustrated anger threatened to break the heavens. And then the Eye tried to track the sky, there was an explosion above her followed by an overlapping crescendo as more ordnance fell upon her.

Even if she could take out a Torpedo, it would be very unlikely she'd be able to hit a Mothership. Not only were our larger fleet assets kept at standoff range for that reason, but Torpedoes could be launched from Hasta Torpedo Bombers or the Kolibri Torpedo Corvette. Not to mention that the large aerial munitions could take an indirect path to their target with dog-legs and other evasions.

Each detonation was smaller but the Torpedoes were harder to track, these were the
Gungnir which was a stealthy shipkiller that came in under a powerful veil. That stealth capacity came at a great expense in components and took up mass, reducing the warhead size Maybe the Eye could see those coming in, maybe not.

They still hit the Titan.

Alongside those was a series of teleport flashes a bare handful of stories above her that immediacy tuned into explosions. The Hrunting was an even more expensive "shipkiller" that had a high-accuracy, short-range, one-shot teleportation enchantment. The fiscal expensive of this strike was breathtaking. The teleport runes inscribed into the torpedo's body allowed the weapon to simply avoid most of the target's defenses, and simply appear as close as possible, at full velocity.

For the Titan's face this was, in missile terms, right next to her face.

++++

The entire block was now a blasted moonscape resembling the more desolate parts of Lantia.

The Fomor had just lost roughly a Legion's worth in casualties, about seven thousand various troops. Maybe half were dead, but the survivors had lost all cohesion and organization as fighting formations. Most of them were wounded and showed. And if they did not move quickly they would not get the chance to get organized, or into cover.

I idly wondered how many Torpedoes the Fleet had left. This many war shots had to have at least dented our ground support capability. Even a Bombardment Flotilla would be rapidly breaking out reloads from their supporting cargo ships.

Though I supposed with a dearth of enemy air assets or capital vessels we had plenty of shipkillers to lob at the Titan.

It was massively expensive, but so were squadrons of Ritual Plate or Cohorts of Legionaries.

Ethniu stood at the bottom of an uneven crater marred by collapsed tunnels and conduits. Dirty water had begun to flood into it in sprays and gurgles

The Titan was incandescent with rage as she stomped and splashed out of the crater once again.

As she neared the lip she hesitated and for a moment I wondered if the Titan would take cover. Instead she stood up and, proud as could be, she regained purchase on what could generously be called "street level".

Which nicely silhouetted her.

A full block away, DawnStrike appeared to her side and a golden beam of light shot down the broken avenue. The rubble lit up in sharp morning light, casting harsh shadows as the beam shot to the Titan.

Ethniu dodged but there might have been a weariness to her motion. And the beam adjusted, hitting the Titan in the chest and pushing her back.

She stumbled and one step went back past the lip of the crater and she started to stagger down the broken slope.

"You DARE mock ME!" Ethniu screamed and the Eye blasted out its hateful ray.

The Praetor vanished and reappeared to the other side of the crater and tilted her head. "Not from any great effort."

Ethniu gave an inarticulate rage-filled below and leapt across the crater trying to grapple with her.

Quirking an eyebrow, DawnStrike and gestured with her hand as if she were ordering in a wine bar and the clouds above thickened and a massive pillar of orange fire shot down slamming the Titan back into the crater.

The Eye shot up and raked over the lip of the crater in a circle. Buildings blew apart in a rough arc.

There were blasts of fire to the South that reflected off the clouds making them seem aflame. I could make out the hazy motions of Nyx stealth scouts and saw long lances of fire clearing an entire road of stalled vehicles. From my vantage point, I could barely make them out a couple dozen blocks or so, but CloudFire was among them. Another Daughter of the Imperatrix had arrived. Her eyes burned and her flaming hair billowed behind her with the magical bleed-off of the fiery pillar she had summoned at her sister's order.

The wards on the Lavin tanks shone as they raced down the road spreading their formation. It was not a stealthy approach, but given the smoldering fire to each warding shield I supposed CloudFire was trading stealth for protective power.

"You will NOT deny MY due!" The Titan screamed. "You interloping half breeds are nothing! You stand between me and a reckoning with the pitiful dregs of this world's divinity"

DawnStrike's green eyes turned flat. "You simpering Child. This is War. You bring your army to kill, to seize ground, to destroy your enemies. Here you ravage and pillage and offer no quarter. And you dare whine when we draw blood? When we refuse to treat this as some game?"

Racing up from behind our lines, the 23rd Legion Behemoth and its Battle Tanks were moving in to support the 12th Legion. I was not sure what even two dozen Lavin heavies would do against the Titan, but 24 tanks with their wards enhanced by Censor CloudFire? Plus their scouting vehicles, artillery, Ritual Plate, and Infantry support. That would at least slow the Titan down. Slow her enough for BlackSky and our allies to strike?

The Titan stomped back up the slope. The Eye glowed but did not fire. "You-"

DawnStrike cut the Titan off. "If you say cheater, I will be quite cross."

"Yes, you would hate to lose a bet, Dear Sister," a deeper resonant purring voice said as CloudFire appeared far down another street.

Her flaming orange and yellow hair was pulled back to where it flowed down the back of her armored gold and bronze dress. She stood with her immense hooves braced on the top deck of a battle tank that shimmered with intense wards and had a lowered ramming dozer blade. Three more tanks rumbled behind her in covering positions.

The Titan looked between the two Daughters.

"No you petulant child, you will not advance," DawnStrike patiently explained.

++++


Smirking, Titan stood to her full height. "You think these toys can stop me? The most you can do is bury me in rubble."

As her tanks raced around, CloudFire' laugh echoed over the broken landscape. "We can delay you; we can buy time. "

She gestured and the tank troop she was leading, plus three other quartets, a full Tank Swarm, that had gotten into position opened fire. The Lavin's 124mm shell was about 50 lbs. And 16 exotic armor-piercing enchanted variants hit the Titan in a storm of antic light and lashing flames that turned the ground into ash.

Half of the crater slumped apart into a fine heap of gritty sand that blew apart in a gritty cloud.

The battle tanks immediately revved their engines and withdrew leaving a gasping Titan scrambling as sparks and flames flickered over her metallic skin. Half of her silver hair had been melted off.

"We're not the ones afraid of morning, afraid of what will happen when Mortal Authorities arrive." DawnStrike's hands started to glow.

"But where is your mother? You fight here while she cowers..." The Titan paused and turned her head to the North-east.

My gaze went in that direction as the Gorgon rig locked onto a large teleport flash followed by... hundreds, no thousands of flashes. All along the Fomor's lines of communication back to the lake where the Fomor had their reserves and supplies. At least three thousand individual teleports.

A mass teleport. In theory sufficient skill could enable one to arrive and, using their own observations and the sensor feed from a whole cadre of ground and aerial scouts, teleport entire Cohorts of troops, vehicles, and support equipment. And to place each fire-team, rotary cannon, and tank in the exact spot for maximum devastation. And to do so while artillery and torpedoes launched supporting attacks.

It would take skill, coordination, and raw power on an unbelievable scale.

BlackSky had arrived.

And she had personally brought six cohorts with full support in a mass ambush the Fomor didn't see coming, an ambush they couldn't conceive of. One that could encircle the enemy, or at least cut off their line of retreat.

Contrary to her claims, the Titan's host was not an occupying force. For the Fomor this was a raid. And the most important part of a raiding mission was being able to break contact, exfiltrate, or at least retreat.

DawnStrike's smile was cold. "You wanted Mother's attention."

Ethniu screamed.

The Eye flashed towards Dawn. She teleported away; the clouds above coalesced as CloudFire summoned another fiery pillar that struck down. The Titan was briefly illuminated inside the roiling inferno. And then there was another three-tone alert.

My Gorgon rig was able to track these subsonic torpedoes. And from their giant monolithic explosions they were likely Galatine torpedoes. An inexpensive option, the Galatine eschewed most stealth, evasion, and advanced propulsion systems. Instead, it was a mere delivery system for over 800 lbs of high alchemical explosives.

Though expense was relative, for all the Torpedoes, Ritual Plate, Cohorts, and Armored Troops we might as well have been dropping pallets of millions of aurei on the Titan.

Some of the Lavin Battle Tanks, and their attendant infantry riding in Nymph light transports and Triarii IFVs had moved to support the Cohorts of the 12th Legion. The 23rd's LRI Cohorts were also arriving; Umbra Mediums deploying Infantry Centuries right to the battlefield.

Most of the 23rd's tanks were apparently the Lavin Mark 2 which had 2 Minerva rotary cannons in addition to a Metis heavy rotary cannon coaxial with the main gun which could also fire anti-infantry canister shot. With plenty of Infantry and RP support the shattered Fomor Formations were facing withering anti-infantry fire.

Even in the nightmare that was urban combat, without the Titan, the Fomor would have to count on an especially strong, brave, and creative sorcerer to even have a hope of slowing a Lavin.

The tanks advanced. And it seemed that the Fomorian inventory was light on anti-armor weaponry.

The third Torpedo barrage cleared. I wondered if the rotating through the types was testing to see which had the most effect on the Titan or was some commander dealing with the Fleet's finite supply of the heavy munitions.

DawnStrike had appeared further back closer but not quite near to her sister. Neither wanted to have both be able to be hit by the same blast from the Eye.

She simply spread her wings behind her and gestured "come forward" with her open hand.

The Titan's metal skin was no longer pristine; it had a rainbow patina that many metallic sheets got after an improper temper. The Titan took a step then a note of hesitation, of caution, crossed her face.

"Dither if you wish," the Praetor said. "It is not our forces who have daybreak as their enemy. Let Mother extinguish your minions, your allies, your supplies. I'm sure they'll accept such a betrayal with magnanimity."

"What do You know, Coward!" the Titan screamed. "You are interlopers here! This is not your world. They do not respect you."

Ethniu froze at DawnStrike's small smile.

Maybe. Maybe the other Accorded Nations did not respect us. But they knew how to use an opening. The Fae were another force of respectable skill in misdirection. If the Queen of Winter could not make use of an angered enemy myopically focused on another target that insisted on a harassing retreat, drawing the Titan further and further from the center of combat...

But it was not just faerie. It was said that the White Council's Wizards needed time for some great arcane working. And the Embassy was showing, only a fool would challenge the Svartalves on ground they had prepared.

And then there was Dame BlackStone. She had appeared time and time again; this was her city.

++++

Calculating the battle before her versus the one behind her, the Titan set her jaw. "Fomor! To me!" she screamed as the Eye's ravaging beam sliced across the battlefield.

There was a maddened howl as the remaining Fomorian forces launched themselves towards the Titan. Hordes of long-limbed muscular shaggy creatures, short be-tentacled ape-like things, amphibious Fomorians, and human levies all broke away from our lines and moved towards the Titan.

Their casualties were heavy. Seeing a force concentration, the Arachne barrage had intensified, which made me hope that Legion Behemoth also brought more artillery shells.

DawnStrike seemed perturbed while CloudFire simply cackled.

The pillars of fire slammed down from the sky as the Armored vehicles of 23rd Legion Behemoth advanced supporting the reinvigorated troops of 12th Legion Severitas. Keeping a clear dead zone they avoided pressing to the Titan.

The three-tone chime alerted and the Fomorian reinforcements were blasted by shipkiller torpedoes intended for the Titan. The monolithic high alchemy explosives blew through the enemy troops.

They may have been less efficient than with a dedicated ground-support weapon, but the results were devastating.

But then Ethniu was already gone.

"Valhalla Flight, this is Centurion Valentina the Titan is retreating," I gasped and paused to take a sip from my water tube. "Repeat. The Titan is Retreating."

There was a pause. "Understood," the young technician said her voice a pleased purr. "Do you have a bearing?"

"North-east direction. Contact track is highlighted. High ground speed," I transmitted as I had the Gorgon Rig follow the tall form as she ran down the blasted street. Some of her retainers tried to keep up, but they were quickly left in the dust.

"Understood," the crisp voice replied. "Keep visual as long as you can."

"Confirm." I zoomed out the scrying intake from the Gorgon rig. "She is rendezvousing with support elements. Estimate may reach BlackSky's area of operation in zero-four minutes. Longer if she abandons all support."

Though I wondered how long BlackSky and her cohorts would be there. The bit of attention I could spare to that part of the battlefield indicated things were winding down. Unless she was planning to ambush the Titan herself, BlackSky could withdraw in good order.

As Ethniu made it to what seemed to be a stacked concrete parking lot the Fomor had used as a staging point between their main supply dump and their line of attack on the 12th, The three-tone trill sounded.

And the entire building was blown to rubble. I gave a sharp grin as I transmitted that set of footage. If we had to burn the city to save it from the Fomor then so be it.

It was doubtful that that would kill or even wound her. But that was not the point.

The Titan had put much in her inevitability, her invincibility. That none could stand athwart her.

With that arrogance she had boasted to the Accorded Nations, announced her plans to invade, and hurled herself at the Legions.

And it was Ethniu who had fled, bloody and battered.

I drank some more water. And split my attention between tracking when the Titan dug her way out and the 12th and 23rd Legions' assault on the remaining Fomor.

Maybe now Valhalla Command could spare a Spatha VTOL to pick me up.


End "Snippet" 3.

Special thanks to especially preier for checking and reading over this. For ch13 I have over 4,500 words written and hte combat scene is going well.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
http://fukufics.com

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 13: Command, Control, Reconnaissance, & Revenge


We were outnumbered.

Our Polyxo Squadron of twelve Pilots, commanded by Prefect Centurion Quirinus, faced a heavy squadron of at least sixteen Zioxan Pilots. About two Flights of their Satori ground strike models and two of their Tjardu air superiority.

Making the situation worse, the Zioxans were supported by a network of Villeneuve golems that could fire Toulon anti-air missiles. The launchers came from House Trosier but were operated by the Diluvians. After all, the Diluvians had been the ones who had courted the support of the Great Houses of Ziox and Trosier for their struggle against minor House Crocelli. Proxy or not, the Diluvians remained the nominal enemy we were here to fight.

The worrying part of the current situation was the level of apparent coordination between this batch of Zioxan mercenaries and their Diluvian allies. Even a slipshod degree of active communication between the opposing forces would hand the squadron commanded by Samoth Rodswor control over a zone of airspace where they could operate freely and we would be hampered by missile barrage. With a proper level of communication, that already unpleasant situation worsened precipitously.

Fully integrated comms would enable the Zioxan forces to provide constantly updated targeting and guidance data for the salvos of Toulon missiles. From what information I could recall about Trosic weapons systems, their targeting systems should be fully compatible with Zioxan Ritual Plate scrying and sensor suites. The two Houses were strong allies and shared a mutual a fear of BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate, which had informed the development of their own systems.

The Tjardu was the fruit of this inter-House cooperation on weapons development. Based on the Rochefort, House Trosier's own air-superiority suit, the Tjardu retained the robustness of the ancestral design while improving on the efficiency and performance to a near-peer level with the Harmonia suit. Admittedly, the cost in materials and enhancements represented by each Tjardu made them very expensive, even by Ritual Plate standards, and the Tjardu had an infamously steep learning curve for Pilots, but it was nevertheless san example of multi-House cooperation made manifest.

That cooperation was at the root of this proxy war. And, plausible deniability aside, House Ziox had increased their commitment. And it was up to us to deal with it and keep our own House informed. Quirinus had finished updating Flight Ops and my Display updated.

According to Command there were now two Occultias in high altitude orbit over the theater. One of the most expensive and rare models feilded by House BlackSky, the Occultia was a reconnaissance specialized Ritual Plate equipped with advanced and powerful scrying systems. An Occultia pilot had to be skilled in operating, collating, and distributing the data intake on top of all the other qualifications. A Pilot entrusted with one of the House's greatest weapons, information gathering required great skill.

Air combat was more than just who had the most weapons, the greatest thrust, or the most maneuverability. Though those were all useful things, accurate and up to date information on the tactical and strategic situation was equally if not more important. Information the Occultia suits specialized in providing.

Compared to the Computation Jewels of Visha and I's previous lives, fighting for another empire, Ritual Plate was bulky, expensive, and maintenance-intensive. It required a far more involved logistical backend in skilled support staff, parts, power systems, munitions and the like. And all for a system that had less maneuverability and reaction in the low-velocity regime.

Yet all that expense resulted in a combat platform that had a greater altitude ceiling, velocity, power distribution, operational radius, weapons options, and of greater concern to those with actual skill in battle theory: communications and data sharing.

It was an amusing synchronicity; in both of my "next lives", I had been strapped into advanced magical flight systems and sent off to act as an artillery spotter. And now, once again, I had been put back into the old familiar role of a spotter.

Except it was technically not artillery we were spotting this time, and our targets weren't grounded like a marching column of unwary infantry.

I would have preferred to simply have a Fleet Airship, or a Torpedo Bomber just fire a mass of Vel Missiles at the enemy. However, Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes were large, expensive, and effective, and thus were in high demand.

And yet, the assets we had did allow for something... close.

The Telephe Ritual Plate was House BlackSky's strike model. Their primary weapons were Lance batteries, extremely high power, relatively long-ranged weapons that could take out capital ships and other large assets. Their energy release could also be tuned to take out convoys as was done earlier tonight, but at a cost in efficiency.

The downside of Lances was that given the sheer level of specialized arcane energy required, a Telephe only had a handful of Lance shots. Not to mention the breathtaking energy density of the Lance's power flasks, or the expense in enchanting them with even a modicum of safety. Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role suits could be configured with a Strike Package which gave near parity, at the cost of a slightly reduced capability. Meanwhile, the, less capable but less expensive, Polydora Multi-Role had lower power, range, and capacity when it was configured with Lance batteries.

Quirinus had taken her squadron to the Vihn Garrison to provide ground support fire. She had two Flights of ground-attack configured Polyxo and one Flight in strike configuration.

Lances were not the most efficient way to go after most ground targets. But as I told Quirinus when I was just a Cadet and she was my instructor: a Lance strike makes for an unforgettable ground support run.

Flight Ops was vectoring in support and our House Crocelli allies in Vihn Garrison had some fixed-wing assets, mostly Barrister ground attack craft, and some Archer Ritual Plate suits, but the former were extremely vulnerable to the Zioxans and the latter were dealing with defending the Garrison itself.

Quirinus had three Flights to play with. My Flight was the one with the best scrying equipment, and I would argue also at least the second best Flight in terms of combat skill. Given First Flight's presence, thought, there wasn't really much question about how Quirinus would use my Flight.

Going in low and fast, my Flight came in with more power to our Veils. The heavy rain made for a greater challenge and power consumption, but the longer we could obfuscate our targets the better.

Our path was going to put us in line with a grain elevator to the east of the town. Past it was a concentration of Diluvian infantry, a mortar formation, and a cluster of their air defense network. The enemy concentration was a textbook target.

Having a Flight of ground-attack Polyxo scout, strafe, and provide targeting data for a Flight of Strike Polyxo, despite facing superior enemy numbers was the type of aggressive posture, bordering on contempt, our enemies often expected of us.

We flew into the teeth of the Villeneuve air defenses and a waiting heavy Squadron. As the range decreased it would get harder and harder to conceal our approach.

House BlackSky had a reputation for bellicosity. Among the service branches, the Imperial Legions had a esprit de corps reflecting their role as airborne shock infantry. And of the Legionary specializations, the Volantes Centurions, the Ritual Plate Pilots, had the most speed and personal firepower.

A degree of recklessness and arrogance would be expected for any Pilot. Now, consider a young countess Legionary Flier who got that title for taking out nine Zioxan Pilots from the Second Assault Infiltration Wing, including the War Mistress in command.

Would said War Mistress' sister be surprised when she sees the countess' Flight, at a close enough range my wings will be rather identifying, charging into battle? Samoth knew I fought alone at eleven when outnumbered nine to one. My Flight versus her Squadron was still four to one.

Would she think I was that conceited? That I was another BlackSkyvian war-maniac young noble?

I hoped she would.

Samoth struck me as arrogant, and if she was half the woman her sister was, she would assume everyone else was as arrogant as she was. Breathing and checking my telemetry, I reflected that this plan required us having the superior psychological profile of the enemy commander.

"GreyDawn, VioletBlood! Pull in, increase your speed," I said over the Flight channel. They had been flying in at a proper distance. Not the one prescribed by the book, but the correct covering range given our situation. I did not want proper, I wanted them to look gung-ho, to look aggressive.

Based on the composite imagery from our Gorgon Rigs' passive intakes and the various active scrying feeds, it looked like a Tjardu Flight was moving towards us. Both enemy Flights of Satori were a bit behind them to provide support and the last Tjardu was on a central higher altitude overwatch post.

Their positioning lacked the fluidity of a truly well-trained squadron, but at least they were not holding static positions. A fault many Pilots with poor experience had was that they would hover at a given location, take a fixed following distance, or move in some other predictable pattern that made them easy targets. A Pilot had to juggle many critical things simultaneously, and it was easy get into the habit of not thinking about one's actual flight maneuvers.

In this case both Tjardu Flights were reasonably placed to respond to anything a smaller BlackSkyvian formation could do, and they were taking advantage of the anti-air missiles on their side.

If anything, they had a bit more distance and were retaining more of a reserve of energy potential being at a higher velocity and altitude, as if they were worried about facing Harmonia, and not RP suits with less velocity and high speed maneuverability.

They were playing to their perceived relative strengths. Lighter and with greater turning capability, they were worried about Air Superiority Polyxo, which like the Harmonia had greater maneuvering and overall speed. Granted the Harmonia was a bit better in those regards than either model, but it showed an expectation on the part of the enemy.

I was thankful for the Occultia support, as the Tjardu was supposedly an easier platform to Veil, which with their overall lower power systems did make sense. Without the additional scrying support we might have missed them until we were much closer.

"They seem to be skilled enough," Visha noted on a private channel.

"At forming up and flying low-profile," I replied. But she was right, the Tjardu had a steeper learning curve than BlackSkyvian suits. Part of that was that it was a cobbling of two different House's design philosophies, arcana, and parts.

Their whole concept of making the Tjardu to fight the Harmonia reflected institutional biases and how doctrine should be limited to what a polity has the resources to invest. The Harmonia was actually the less expensive suit. This both came from advantages of scale and experience. House BlackSky simply produced more Ritual Plate suits. MuArc Amalgamated constructed more suits in a month than all of House Ziox produced in a year. And MuArc was just one firm that made Ritual Plate.

And when it came to Harmonia versus Tjardu production numbers, technically House Ziox had not built any of their air-superiority Ritual Plate. They purchased the core enchanted components, essentially stripped suits, from House Trosier. Not to mention, they had a far smaller pool or Pilots and Instructors for their Ritual Plate corps. Part of that was that House Ziox used a large number of more conventional airframes in many roles that House BlackSky used Ritual Plate for.

I gave a forced grin. "Uplink check," I transmitted on the command channel. My Display had the symbol for a valid connection with Flight 1, but it would have been sloppy to not verify.

"We are getting telemetry from all four of you," Quirinus replied. "We're seeing a lot of good ground targets."

"And more?" I asked as I had my Flight go even lower, again, into a textbook ground attack run.. We were practically skimming over the rooftops of Vihn now.

My feathered wings tingled with the stress my Zephyr were under as they pushed me forward. The ground-attack mode for the Polyxo sacrificed velocity, climb, and high speed maneuvering for more weapons systems, protection, and low velocity capability.

Which meant that even though the Tjardu cost more than a Harmonia for what I evaluated as the inferior suit, it was still an air superiority model that by the basic stats could fly circles around my own Flight's equipment.

It was one thing to say how overall the Tjardu could compete with the Harmonia, but only at a far greater cost in resources, logistics, and Pilot skill, and thus that on a given campaign my House would field more air-superiority Ritual Plate than House Ziox.

But that ignored that House Ziox made use of fixed-wing assets, both piloted and golem craft Which did have advantages against Ritual Plate, provided one was willing to be limited to airbases or large naval carriers. Also Zioxan strategy depended on having allies to support them in any major action against a larger enemy.

But more importantly... on the tactical level. House Ziox planned to use concentrations of force and focus on enemy Ritual Plate when they had local superiority in numbers and capability.

Such as this exact situation.

"Sprint Mode. Sprint Mode, Prepare for Ranging Fire" I stated and then pushed my Zephyr to what would seem like their max. "Violet make sure you don't actually get out of formation," I cautioned my most... excitable pilot.

The four did what seemed like a redline thrust, especially given how our emissions shot up. It would also put a spotlight on how the four of us were in a ground attack configuration. Our formation spread out as it looked like each of us was rushing and we were about to lose cohesion.

It was something that a stereotypical, or at least hidebound, Flight Instructor would twist the horns on her students if she caught them making such a sloppy formation. However... a sensible Volantes Centurion would note that we still had mutual support in both angles of fire, scrying, and maneuverability.

And given the Instructor I had as a Cadet was my Squadron commander... well I doubted a fellow bearer of the Honor Name "Magnus" would be upset with me.

Especially since Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus was the one who came up with this plan and approved of my adjustments to my Flight's part in it...

On my Display, the four markers of my Flight raced towards a series of roughly concentric lines that represented various ranges of the Toulon missile. My vision was assaulted with a nearly overwhelming amount of visual data from the view out my eye lenses to the display projection with its status board, overlays and maps, targeting data, and ancillary rear views.

Much of Ritual Plate design theory involved finding ways to reduce visual clutter while allowing for quick reference and managing to keep things informative. Not to mention battle-hardening the various spells projecting the illusions.

It all melted back as I no longer saw the display and simply took in the data holistically and integrated it with the suit, my Zephyr, and my Flight.

The closer Tjardu Flight pushed their own air spirits and dove down making use of what standard theory told them was a superior position and moving to make use of it. As the faster air superiority suits moved in to intercept us, the two Flights of Satori suits split into two wedges. One took position flanking the Tjardu, gamely attempting to keep up, while the other held back over the rough center of the enemy ground position.

We were outnumbered three Flights to one, two to one if you were optimistic.

And then all Villeneuve anti-air golems opened up and the sky filled with dozens of the light, quick Toulon missiles. Ah, and on the way up they snap-changed their vectors after the initial climb. It was likely that the Zioxan suits had full coordination with the missiles.

I grinned. Perfect.

The telemetry was a bit overwhelming. The warning indicators were suddenly quite insistent. Fortunately, all the telemetry data was still being transmitted.

My estimation of Samoth increased slightly. I had expected her to gloat over the open channel. Maybe she was being cautious as my Flight was still far enough that we could reverse and fight a retreat.

She might not have been in that forward Tjardu Flight, but she was somewhere up here.

"Lance Strike away!" Quirinus stated as she and the three other Pilots in her Flight opened fire.

There was a brief window where a more cautious Zioxan force would have been on alert. Quirinus' Flight had just released a quartet bolts of extremely energetic long range evocation magical attacks. However, the Tjardu Flight was moving in to take out my Flight and the Satori were guiding missiles.

Besides, Lance Strikes were for large air targets or ground formations. And at that range, it would be hard to target individual Ritual Plate suits.

Except, my Flight was very experienced at providing targeting data.

"Eyes!" I ordered over the Flight channel; this was going to be very close.

As the Lances shot in, someone in the leading Tjardu Flight realized the mistake and tried to maneuver, but it was too late. And the long-range bombardment detonated among the enemy Ritual Plate formations.

Lances were very intricate high energy arcane creations. As a way for Ritual Plate to carry strike-capable armaments, the detonation mechanism was a major component. A Lance was designed to be able to pierce, or failing that, weaken wards, burn through armor and then detonate, or explode in an airburst above a target.

On first blush, it was a terribly inefficient use of limited firepower. Even with Occultia and Gorgon Rig targeting only three of the enemy Ritual Plate were hit. I was not a fan of waste, but a vicious, predatory part of me found it gratifying to see.

A Lance was designed to punch through the defenses of a capital ship. Even taking a fraction of the Lance's power, a Ritual Plate's Wards stood little chance. It was like using a sledgehammer on a grasshopper.

It was hard to hit such a small and quick target, but if you could... they would be destroyed. And three Pilots were caught in the center of the giant blinding white orbs and the twinkling afterimages of the strikes.

Taking out a single Tjardu and two Satori were merely the largest casualties of the strike. The Lances had been set to air burst. Thus several more RP were damaged as well as a fair number of Toulon missiles. The missiles were further out, but they were entirely unshielded.

Most useful for my Pilots however was that the three Flights caught in the energetic blasts had their scrying arrays overloaded. It was maybe a bit much to hope that the Zioxan Pilots were blinded. RP Suits were supposed to have reactive eye slits, but either way they would be disoriented.

The trio of Trjardu kept formation, but given one of them had been deleted from the sky and another was sparking as her low-visibility systems failed it showed they were taking a moment to react. Sprinting at our actual full speed, my Flight dove in to deny them that time.

"Grey, Baroness, hit the straggler!" I ordered as the four of us fired our Pilum Projectors.

Visha and I each fired once on the two least damaged Trjardu while the fully visible one was hit by one anti-armor grade weapon and then another. The first shot might not have gone through her wards but the second ensured it.

The luckless Zioxan blew apart. And now we outnumbered the air-superiority fighters two to one.

The remaining two Trjardu recovered and used their agility to survive the attacks Visha and I leveled. They twisted and shot towards us. And then GreyDawn and VioletBlood went after the trailing fighter who twisted up to avoid them and went into a sharp climb.

Which allowed me to take the last Zioxan fighter with my wingwoman at my side. "Visha clear any missiles that get on us!" I ordered, knowing that GreyDawn would be similarly protecting her wingwoman.

The Trjardu might be faster than us, but we had already closed in. They could run, but they were outnumbered and bolting might expose them to parting fire. As we eviscerated this air superiority flight, Mercy's Flight pounced on the Satori. She was outnumbered three to two, but two of the Zioxan Multi-role suits were in bad shape and they were split between defending themselves and guiding anti-air missiles.

They could fight Ritual Plate that were fresh and had the edge in performance, or they could spend valuable time reacquiring connections and controls with the remaining Toulon missiles.

Or they could pull back and have the Villeneuve golems launch more missiles, but that was when Quirinus' Flights launched their remaining two salvos and took out much of the Diluvian ground assets.

That left one uncommitted Trjardu Flight, and while Quirinus' flight was down to their backup projectors, the dirty secret was that a BlackSkyvian Strike model Ritual Plate suit was functionally an interceptor in performance and could work as a fair air superiority platform.

Distance meant that even with their higher speed the strike Polyxo would take a bit of time to get to the remaining Trjardu Flight but that they were vectoring in preventing Samoth from freely committing her reserve.

My wings ached as I did a snap roll to avoid incoming fire; this Trjadu Pilot had mostly gotten out of her stupor and was trying to reunite with her wingwoman. Meanwhile, Visha was doing her part to help us threaten and limit the enemy's maneuverability as well as take out incoming missiles.

The Toulon was a light weapon, a single hit was unlikely to score a kill against a warded Pilot, hence they mostly worked by swarming enemy Ritual Plate. Its main role was as a relatively inexpensive air denial asset, but with airborne target spotting, the Toulon could be used in a more active role.

GreyDawn and VioletBlood were similarly pressuring their enemy and, by outnumbering a single Zioxan in a close range fight, had limited the Trjardu's advantages. Their low observable systems were less effective the closer one was.

Rolling, I adjusted my Pilum-fire giving careful shots with the projector. Already slowed down, one of the orange bolts took down her warding and roasted the Pilot's pale blue wings. That this Pilot had refrained from reacting meant she was either not Samoth, or that Samoth had more self control than I thought.

"Visha!" I shouted as I slowed and switched to using Pilum bolt covering fire to stave off the remaining missiles.

Visha had been flying a bit higher and faster in a flanking position and had a perfect angle. "Enemy down," she stated after taking a perfect shot.

"I got mine too!" VioletBlood said over the Flight channel after a few more seconds.

I glanced at that part of my display. VioletBlood had taken them out, and Mercy's Flight had gotten the better of the enemy Satori. Mostly by picking off the most damaged Ritual Plate and then conservatively harassing the three remaining survivors while warding off incoming fire. "That's great Baroness, but not time to rest on your laurels. There's still a contest to be won!" I cheered in my motivational tone and the four of us took off to the rest of the enemy formations.

"Diamond Flight, good work," Quirinus stated. "My Flight is also maneuvering to the remaining Trjardu Flight. Ground Fire is still an issue."

I quickly studied the map on my Display. There were marks for airborne assets other than the deep purple of House BlackSky and the dark blue of House Ziox. "What about the Garrison's Archers and Barristers? With us taking out these 'mercenaries' their Ritual Plate can be moved out and as long as the Barristers have some rockets left..."

The Barrister was a rugged and cheap fixed-wing aircraft that could takeoff and land on fairly short and rough runways. Another Alecton export, it mostly worked as a platform for carrying wing-loads and a belly-full of minimally guided rockets. Though the Barrister could also carry bombs and more expensive munitions, if their operators could afford them. The weakness of the Barrister was that just about any Ritual Plate, or fixed-wing fighter would have a fairly trivial time taking them out, but that was why their rockets had a fair range and they escorted if possible.

Quirinus took a moment to ponder. "I'll call it in," she stated.

My eyes widened, if she thought I was some gung-ho maniac who would rather engage in air to air duels than obey orders and do critical ground support missions... Being assigned tasks more suited to such a mentality would be the least of my worries. "I just think it's the most sound use of all our resources!" I quickly assured her.

"I'm well aware you're not unduly worried about your little bet; now let me talk to our local allies."

At least Mercy's formation was closer and providing support to her was entirely valid.

Seeing they were about to be hit by another Flight, the remaining Satori tried to reposition themselves and used their remaining missiles to cover it. I had to give them credit for not breaking and stil maneuvering under control.

They were also trying to reunite with the Trjardu Flight. Not even two minutes had passed since the first Lance strike and the four air superiority Ritual Plate were nearing their remaining allies.

And Quirinus Flight was still a bit out, but the Archers and the Barristers by the Garrison were moving. It was now a race.

One that we lost.

The Trjardu Flight reunited with their beleaguered allies, and now without the pressur,e the guidance on the Toulon missiles improved. One of Mercy's Pilots was hit. She took out most of the attacks, but enough missiles got in to take out her wards and damage her armor, and a pair of Ziox air superiority RP destroyed the Polyxo.

In that instant I did not know who it was, I hoped it was not Octavia. Trjardu fighters moved in and tried to split off another Polyxo while the others were forced out by the missiles. Another Pilot was hit as her suit was briefly engulfed in flames and she slowed and started to descend. One of the other Pilots went to cover her, which left just one Polyxo remaining free to move. This was the weakness of the Flight as a combat unit. After the first casualty, any further combat losses would render the Flight combat ineffective.

And then my Pilots came in and fired a Falx salvo, and what had been a moment of Zioxan numerical superiority and defeat in detail turned back into a BlackSkyvian advantage.

Or at least we could get time. With some space we could get it to be at least seven versus seven. And Quirinus would not be far behind.

"Mercy Flight, check your wounded, and get-" I said over the squadron channel, there was a chance Mercy had been killed or incapacitated.

"I'm okay!" Octavia assured with a cough, "I've got my suit rebooted." To her credit she was flying better and the flames were out. Though one leg was bent in a way that indicated she would not be walking anytime soon. But if she survived the battle, the medicos could get her good as new... if.

"Yes, Diamond, you can take the Trjardu fighters, we'll finish off the Satori," Mercy gritted out; I could feel her anger. It took professionalism to set aside one's personal vengeance to the benefit of the unit.

But that was why we were the Imperial Legions and not the armed rabble of some warlord. Or a War Mistress.

It was interesting that no one in either Trjardu Flight used an overpowered attack similar to the ones the late Zaphania Rodswor was using. Though Samoth was the younger sister.

I was tempted to use the open channel, but I held back. One only got one chance to make a first impression, and I wanted to make my introduction special.

The Trjardu were gaining altitude and pulling to open a range advantage. That was expected, it played to the advantage of faster, yet more fragile suits. However, they could not leave, not if they wanted to support the remaining Satori

Who I had to admit were "fighting like angels". And having met an archangel, I can't say the idiom is wrong.

I ordered my Flight to go to Pilum projectors, we were running dangerously low on them, but they had the furthest range of the weapons we had. "Curve around to the following vector," I then said over the Flight channel.

The idea was to force the Trjardu Flight to choose between supporting the Satori where they would be pinned between my Flight and Quirinus' or abandon their allies.

It came down to timing. Would Quirinus get in first? Would the Barristers get into range to launch their air-to-ground missiles? How many anti-air missiles could the Villeneuve golems get off before getting hit? Would the Satori pilots be able to take out another one of my squadron-mates using their superior directing of those Toulon missiles?

How many Archers could the Garrison dedicate to this fight? What about the reinforcements Flight Ops was sending? How many of their Cadiz Ritual Plate would the Diluvians send into this fight?

The Diluvians had been repositioning for another attack on the Garrison but with their "mercenary" allies committed to fighting us instead of knocking out House Crocelli's air assets.

The map display was getting even more dynamic and crowded with icons. And this was a relatively small squadron-level event.

Fire came in from the Trjardu Flight. They each picked a member of my flight to hit, which was likely more suppressive in intent. They moved for a quick fly-by and were going too blast past us to reinforce the Satori.

"Focus to wingwomen," I transmitted on the Flight channel. highlighting the two trailing members of the enemy formation.

We were slower but had heavier weapons and more protection. Our two formations scissored through each other in complex screwing and jinking maneuvers as each tried to hit the other. It was still dangerously close by Ritual Plate combat standards, but as spread out as we were there was no chance of us physically hitting each other, let alone being within sword range.

Zioxan energy blasts hit my wards and warning lights flicked on all over my display before the wards cut out. I grit my teeth as the status alerts went off for GreyDawn and VioletBlood. Neither was as bad as I was but my most experienced Pilot was having bad luck today.

Though the Trjardu Pilots had it worse. While everyone in my Flight had taken a bit of damage, VioletBlood and GreyDawn had managed to cleanly take out one of theirs while Visha and myself had burned through the wards of another.

I was splitting between rekindling my own wards and directing those two to take out the straggler. And then the sky got very busy and many things resolved at once.

Escorted by Archers, the heavy, canted-winged Barristers had gotten into an attack run as they neared the range and were about to and disgorged their load of Advocate air-to-ground missiles.

Like the Barrister, the Advocate was a basic, inexpensive, and unsophisticated option for ground attack. It was heavier than an energy-based system with a far larger footprint, but given they were intended to be launched from fixed wing assets that was not considered an issue.

The Advocate missile and the Barrister ground attack craft made for an appealing option for a Minor House looking to pummel ground forces on a budget, especially as House Alecto had many financing options.

Flipping over, there was an instant as the heavy rain pattered directly against my suit and helmet. For a moment it was like being in a trench with a sheet metal roof. I could almost smell the mud of the Rhine.

Knowing their air defense systems were at risk, the Diluvians launched all their Toulon missiles, the Villeneuve running empty as they extended their internal magazines. The heavy cloud of sprinting little anti-air missiles went up in the direction of the Barristers.

Even with Archers providing an anti-missile screen, the Diluvians had a chance to take out a number of Barristers before they could reply in kind. But instead of keeping their vector, the bulk of the Toulon missiles twisted, and now rocketed in towards us.

The Zioxans still had direct control!

Not to ignore a better chance at survival, the Barristers disgorged their missiles and twisted away, hoping their escorts could protect them. I had an instant to appreciate the Diluvians cursing Zioxan perfidy as the realization hit.

The Toulon missile direction had been quite good but this action seemed personal. "Samoth's in one of the Satori!" I stated over the Squadron channel as my wards flared back. There was no reason that Samoth Rodswor's expertise had to lay with air superiority combat. We had all made the same assumption that of course she would be flying an air to air fighter.

Our Ritual Plate forces were in a big intermixed canted-column that stretched over the battlefield. Quirinus' Strike Flight was diving down to blast through the Trjardu and Mercy's depleted Flight had pulled to a more defensive posture and was engaging in anti-missile suppression.

"Quirinus, Mercy requests your Flights cover mine, mine's in the best position to charge the Satori!" I ordered as I had my Flight increase our power to slice to the remaining Zioxan forces.

It was then that I realized that if my theory was right, Samoth would be directing the majority of the missiles she had usurped to cross my vector from as many angles as possible in order to limit my maneuvering and saturate my defenses.

Sometimes I hated being correct.

"Visha, Violet, I'm going to clear the road; you two take any stragglers. GreyDawn trail position and fire on the Satori I highlight when I tell you with the weapon I tell you!" I ordered as I went to a near vertical corkscrewing dive.

The remaining Satori multi-role suits were below and an arcing cloud of Toulon missiles came between us. They rose up and came in at different angles and all focused on me.

I pulled my lips back, there was something to be said for brute force as I flipped to the open channel. "Samoth! Is this the value of Zioxan oaths?" I asked as I started Pilum bolts as fast as my targeting system could allow as I spun and twisted.

Exhaling, I went to active with my Gorgon rig and focused on the remaining Flight or so of Satori. One of the Pilots had dark feathered wings, another had a long ruffled tail, one might have had hooves. And one.... one was lean and had her wings spread out and was maneuvering a bit stiffly as if she had an extra load splitting her attention.

"You are no mercenary! Even a basic sell-sword knows not to betray their client in such a debased manner!" I declared as missiles began to explode around me and on the ground the Advocates reaped their cost as the air-to-ground warheads cut through the Diluvian air defense, mortars, and vehicles.

That pilot might have flinched in her suit. She might have tilted her head to look up as she, and the rest of her Flight had rotated up and more missiles came in. It was a thin thing to identify a target on, especially if Samoth might have acted nothing like her sister.

But it was what I had. Still firing, taking the brunt of near misses that Visha and Violet had blasted that got past me. Pushing my Zephyr as far as they could go I pushed the targeting data to GreyDawn.

Above us Quirinus' Flight took on the remaining Trjardu.

I could not spare any attention for that bit of air combat. The good news was that it seemed we had found Samoth. More good news was that nearly all the pressure had been taken off Mercy's survivors which enabled them to clear out some of the anti-air missiles that had been targeting them and the rest of our Squadron. They even started to pressure the enemy directly.

This all came at a cost. A lot of Toulon missiles had been fired. Thanks to the fire support from the Garrison's air assets the amount in the air was all that remained, but there was still a large amount.

Fortunately, they were directed at one target which meant that a layered defense could be enacted. Mercy's Flight gave some sporadic but useful fire as, at the moment, they were closer to the enemy RP directing the Toulons.

And with less concerns about their own anti-missile defense, Visha and VioletBlood could give an interlocking Falx fire that was quite efficient. GreyDawn was also contributing but her fire was more offensive. For the moment I had her making careful shots of what was normally a short ranged weapon system. Dozens of missiles were taken out of the sky before they got anywhere near their target.

That being the bad news. I was left with an intensifying amount of incoming ordnance. The Toulon's main advantages were also its limitations. It was a small, specialized missile designed as a defensive anti-Ritual Plate system and given its size an individual Trosic Naval Infantrywoman could have a launcher with multiple missiles, and the Villeneuve could fire over a dozen before reloading.

I could argue that the larger, and more flexible, Vel Missile House BlackSky used was the superior weapon system. But facing a swarm of Toulons I had neither the time nor the inclination.

My emitters, runes, and inlays flared as I fired both my Pilum and Falx Projectors. It was a profligate waste to use anti-armor grade weapons against missiles. But it was better to spend them now than die with an ammunition reserve. I even used my relatively short ranged Veritum launcher to lob explosive spells at anything that got through the other barrages.

As it fired an unguided, unpowered projectile, Veritum was a limited weapon system. Most Ritual Plate Pilots saw it as an auxiliary weapon system. Useful for specialized ground bombardment or anti-mage roles. The small size of the "pebbles" launched lack or propulsion, and that the energy was stored in a physical projectile made it harder to detect than other munitions.

Despite various management systems sweat had started to pool. Which given my inverted angle meant that it was trickling up my neck seal. Missiles exploded around me as I flicked and maneuvered. But like my scrying systems, I could not focus solely on air defense. This mad dash had a purpose.

More than being a missile magnet.

Visha and VioletBlood did their best, and GreyDawn continued her careful, precise firing solution.

Sweat dripped off my chin and my display flickered with a series of blasts that hit my wards. The status board of my suit blinked from mostly green to a lot of angry orange as many fault alerts went off. My gaze went over the board and was relieved that my Gorgon Rig and the data uplink were still functional.

"Prideful, parasitic countess, did you really think you were strong enough to challenge a` Rodswor?" Samoth purred over the open channel.

Just a bit longer. Various lines had almost started to intersect on my display.

"GreyDawn, would you kindly?" I ordered over the Flight channel.

Samoth's words continued, missiles blew up, and I curled into a ball. "Maybe you took in a bit much of my sister's pride and n-"

The Blue Daisy pebbles that GreyDawn had seeded the sky with detonated. The heavy rain was some benefit as it provided a bit of back scatter to help obscure the unpowered, tiny projectiles. Not to mention Samoth was busy managing a lot of missiles while doing air-to-air combat and evading all while in a very busy sky.

Maybe her scrying systems missed them, maybe they were not seen as a priority. Munitions designed to clear trees and make landing zones blew up among the Zioxan Flight. Well a handful did, most had drifted too far away in their flights, but enough were in range.

The Veritum Launcher was a limited system. Given the maneuverability of Ritual Plate, it would take a rare circumstance to have the enemy not simply fly out of range. However, imagine you were diving on an enemy. That helped mitigate the range issues. Provided the enemy wanted to stay in roughly a known area.

But that would require being able to goad the enemy into meeting one head-on. And even then... well someone had to focus all their scrying capability on providing targeting data.

Still firing against the incoming missles, I smirked over the view of two of the remaining Satori being critically damaged by the Blue Daisies and the dazed remainder jumped by Mercy's Flight.

Then my wards failed.

Samoth might not be able to direct the enemy incoming, but the dumbly loyal Toulon still came in. Curled into a ball, my display cut out for a moment, and I felt the armor on my leg get blasted apart, a side of my torso take a hit that bloomed with pain and a sickly wetness that now started to flood down my neck. I started to tumble and what had been a dive turned into an uncontrolled fall as my Zephyr reacted to my pain.

Something slammed into the back of my helmet. Maybe a bit of debris or a small fragment, it could not have been that big of a deal, as I was still alive. The medical system made it obvious given the warnings it was flashing and the analgesics and coagulants and other injections.

The status board had turned all sorts of ominous colors. It was interesting that one could become lightheaded when head down. I thought all the blood would pool towards the brain. I could see plenty of blood headed towards me.

I still had my Pilum Projector and one Falx, but something must have happened as my accuracy was wrong, even without full display support I should not be this sluggish or... floaty.

Oh good, LoveBlood was still taking out the last of the missiles, and Visha was flying far too close to me for regulations. Odd, I knew all the Flight Ops alerts and all the suit alarms, but I was not familiar with one that was just a long steady ring. It was really hard to hear anything else.

I then laughed at the altimeter. I wondered which would drop surface altitude first, that instrument or the falling suits of Samoth and her Pilots.

Comforting my Zephyr, I noticed something coming over the command channel but it was hard to hear.

Then Visha grabbed me. I would have to reprimand her for breaking formation, but things were starting to grey out. At least my wingwoman stopped me from spinning uncontrollably, though I still had an embarrassing level of vertigo and wondered if my instruments were broken, as they were getting all burry and... bendy.

At least my Zephyr were happy to be near Visha's. I made a note to do more training with our air spirits, to give them some more intellectual stimulation. After that it got very hard to think.

++++++

A downside of my species' healing capabilities meant that I was rotated back to Forward Operating Base EmeraldInferno with worrying speed. Granted, I did have a couple days to enjoy the facilities of our main base in House Crocelli, and I got to spend some time with Octavia and Primus Caenis, Quirinus's second in command.

There were also very polite conversations with medicos specializing in Trauma Accumulation over multiple days before we were sent back. Without us the 5th Squadron was down to two Flights. Though there was no bringing back Antonia FlashTalon.

Our flight back to EmeraldInferno was on a resupply Umbra, at least we had a good escort. Still part of me was anxious at being a passenger in an aircraft. At least this time there was no expectation for me to jump out in midair.

When I returned, I found my Polyxo had also been repaired, but my Ritualista team had a few more things to check out. Tests that could only be done with the Pilot inside the Ritual Plate.

Thus I was back in the hangar annex, wearing my Polyxo, and my crew chief Optio Suzette Gibbs was up to her forearms in the interior of the lower parts of the right leg of my armor.

"Ma'am, there are limits to how much damage the maneuvering and power systems are supposed to take," she stated in that polite but firm tone all mechanics used when they were talking to pilots who had abused their machines.

"I'll note that the next time I'm being deluged by missiles," I stated, trying not to cough at the incense one of her assistants, IvoryTail, had lit before she started working on my helmet's systems, which had a bright spot in the back where a dented plate had been removed. The white haired Ritualista ran an emerald-tipped probe down the engravings on the inside and outside of my helmet. Her green eyes narrowed in focus as she checked that the enchantments had been repaired.

A golden-haired, pony-tailed blonde, Flavia, was setting up a casting for my power and weapons systems, complete with the working circle over the power cell and cabling to the various parts that would simulate feeds to propulsion or wards. Only a bit taller than me, and probably only due to her dainty hooves, Flavia was setting up an evocation to make sure the suit's energy distribution artificing was solid. It was only a low-power test. If the suit passed that, then Flavia would do another full power test, in an isolated, shielded part of the hangar, without me in it.

My Flight Armor had already passed a full power proof test yesterday, but I did not object to another test. It was prudent and part of the procedures. The fourth Ritualista on my crew, Laurentia whose cobalt skin contrasted somewhat with her powder blue braided hair, was using a Legion issue wind chime, ostensibly more robust than a civilian version, to commune with my Zephyr to make sure they were happy and comfortable. The actual flight tests to make sure they could provide the necessary thrust and maneuvering would come later.

Gibbs snorted and adjusted a few struts and went to the lower part of my boot. "How's the fit?"

"It feels like I'm wearing high heels." I flatly stated. "You know I had my calf muscle blown out?"

"You're fine, Ma'am," Gibbs stated. "That's easy to grow back. Do you know how much of your suit's power systems I had to redo? The other Ritualista complained about me taking too much from our parts stores to do it."

I gave her a flat look. I knew she was just venting; no Ritualista would spend limited parts to fix one heavily damaged suit when the same parts could repair three lightly damaged RP. Triage was applied to more than just physical injuries.

Though that was just an example as not all parts were not fungible. Despite work on making commonality of components to ease maintenance and logistics, Ritual Plate were still extremely complicated weapons systems.

My team continued to fuss and test over my Ritual Plate. It was soothing and comfortable to be back into my suit. The familiarity and power was back and I found I wanted to get back into the air.

"Impressive work," I said after reviewing the diagnostics for myself.

"It's a good thing you've got the best Ritualista team in the squadron," Gibbs confidently said. "Realigning your Falx and Pilum emitters is normally a four hour process. I still recommend a live-fire test."

"Good job," I said, praising my crew and trying not to cough at the incense. The Zephyr did like it so I would endure.

After a few more tests, they undid the various latches and let me out of my Ritual Plate. Flexing my wings and stretching my tail, I then rolled my shoulders and adjusted my flight suit.

"We'll have everything ready for when your Flight gets on Standby status," Gibbs assured, gesturing to three suits in addition to mine.

I bowed my horns to her and the rest of the maintainers and stepped out of the annex. Outside it was another sweltering day, at least it was just lightly raining, no more than a drizzle, and the overhead camouflage netting gave some shade.

Going around the hangar I found the quiet spot, which had a metal improvised roof now and a few scavenged seats in addition to the bench. Lares and GreyDawn were back there watching out over the mortar pits and the artillery positions.

The hulking Forest Person sat in a chair that was made out of a pair of pallets and some ropes. It was large enough to fit his frame. GreyDawn sat on the bench. She offered me her canteen.

"Good to see the local boy from Eastern Province is doing well," I said after taking a swig.

Lares shrugged. "Good to have you back."

"Oh, was there trouble with me gone?" I looked to GreyDawn.

"Of course not, the baroness was a shining example of BlackSkyvian noble virtues," GreyDawn dryly said taking back the canteen and having a swig of her own.

"And Visha?" I asked, glancing up. A Spatha Light VTOL was coming in for a landing. I did not recall any Recon Patrols were coming back at this moment. Wait no, that was not one of the Spatha assigned to EmeraldInferno.

GreyDawn shrugged. "Everyone likes Visha."

I sighed. "I'll talk with LoveBlood."

"Among other talks?"

"Quirinus has gone over the action reports with us." Caenis and myself had actually helped draft some of them while we recovered, which were supplemented by the actual combat recordings and the work Quirinus and Mercy were doing. I nodded to the older woman. "We did good. You did good."

"I heard it got pretty heavy out by Vihn," Lares noted. "Not just Ziox suits but actual Pilots too.

"Yeah, Ziox decided to commit forces," GreyDawn said.

I wangled a finger, my tail swishing. "Those were technically mercenaries. Samoth Rodswor tendered a formal complaint to her Dictatrix and is operating independently on a personal vendetta."

"Against your squadron?" Lares asked.

"Against me, for killing her sister," I added.

The big shaggy yeti stared at me. "That thing from when you were twelve, in all the cinema newsreels. That's what this is all about."

I shrugged. "It's an excuse. I guess she sounded mad and tried to taunt me, but that could have just been to get plausible deniability."

"It could be personal, too; I mean how would you feel if some kid in an unarmed cadet suit killed one of your sisters?" he asked.

I glanced to GreyDawn who flicked her tail noncommittally. "Given my older sisters are far better Pilots than I am? Pretty impressed."

Lares raised his heavy brows. "Your mother is Duchess SilverFlight."

"One of them," I cheerfully said.

"The rest of our Flight are in the barracks," GreyDawn said.

"Together?"

"Well no, Visha's in her rack reading, and LoveBlood was catching up with Octavia in the mess, at least that's where they were when I left out here."

I bowed my horns to her. "Thanks, we'll talk more later."

Trying to do my best to stay behind the visibility barriers, I went to the low-slung prefab and then sandbagged the building complex that made up most of the barracks. Samoth was right in that it would not take too much in terms of intelligence operations to look for a Ritual Plate Pilot with a rare wing style and coloration. Especially one who was part of a Squadron of a somewhat rarer Ritual Plate model.

The barracks themselves were clean enough, and were cooler than the outside, though the humidity was bad. Still the living conditions, and the food, made FOB EmeraldInferno on the upper end of postings.

Which was more of a sign of how bad military postings could be, instead of a suggestion that this was a comfortable billet. I saluted the guards with a tap on my neck and ducked through the doorway, making sure to use a side entrance to avoid the mess area.

I wanted to talk to my wingwoman first.

As Centurions, the Pilots got slightly nicer accommodations. Though out here that meant to the dozen, eleven now, of us were split into a couple rooms. The fifty or so Ritualista were also split up. The other squadron was similarly split up.

This was the classic issue of centralization versus decentralization. Having all your Pilots, and their maintainers, in one area meant that a single strike could take them all out. However spreading them out meant they were harder to defend and it might be easier to slip in infiltrators or other attacks.

Drawing on their experience the Legions went for a compromise solution. Which given to a Forward Operating Base has a limited footprint to begin with was unavoidable. Still this meant that while I shared a room with five other Pilots there was at least some semblance of privacy, if cramped conditions. At least we all had our own rack, so there was no need for hot-bunking. Not that too many of our kind minded that. Communal sleeping arrangements were quite common.

I shook my head, crazy demons.

Entering the small bunkroom I saw that Visha had it to herself at the moment. Which was not unexpected as the room consisted of my Flight and Octavia and Mercy Gabinus from Second Flight.

Visha had already rolled over so she was sitting up on her bunk. "Primus! Uh, how did everything go? Is your suit ready?"

"Everything is good," I sat down across from her.

She smiled, the tip of her tail flicking.

Our knees were almost touching, I patted hers. "Thank you, for saving me."

She gasped. "I couldn't just let you fall!"

I smiled. "It's still appreciated."

Visha nodded. "You took a lot of risks."

"I was best positioned and it allowed you to take out missiles while GreyDawn could help target the enemy. And I had the most skills to act as the final line. It was the logical play."
Visha put her hand over mine. My tail froze. "You've always been a good commander."

"Careful..." My heart sped up; if it got out that we were reincarnations that would raise our profile. Questions would be asked. There would be complications. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I had plenty of reason to be concerned.

"I will," she bowed her head. "It's just you can push yourself too hard."

"With good reason. Given the fight we just survived."

She looked into my eyes and we were silent for a moment.

"Quirinus is a good Squadron commander. This isn't like an... earlier command." I stated. While it came with many downsides, I was largely free to run the 203rd how I liked in our previous lives. An independent elite command had its advantages but came at the cost of being deployed to take care of the worst messes the Empire faced.

"It could be, or.." Visha turned my hand over. "There is... um... your future."

I nodded. Unless I died or screwed up in some other way, Squadron command was inevitable, long before my twenty year term in the Legions ended. If I was lucky I could get promoted to Tribune and have some desk or adjunct job supporting a Volantes Legate. There was also whatever that archangel wanted out of us, but if he objected to me having a few years in a safe rear-echelon posting...

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be at my side," I assured Visha as I lifted our hands.

"Countess," VioletBlood said as she barged into the room. "GreyDawn said you were here-"

The baroness looked between us with a little frown on her face as her tail still.

I slowly let go of Visha's hand and turned to her. "Yes, LoveBlood?"

VioletBlood blinked. "What? But... I wanted... you said you were waiting..." the noble whined.

Exhaling, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What do you think is going on?"
"You're holding hands with that Islander commoner," VioletBlood stated. "The one you've been flying with!"

"It's not like that," Visha assured. "There's nothing to be jealous of."

I wondered if the baroness would believe her. Her green eyes looked between us, then her wings ruffled and she seemed somehow even more pitiful.

"That makes it worse!" Wailing, VioletBlood's tail drooped. "I could understand being beaten by someone who is a more experienced Pilot, and you do fly well and it's not like Tauria marrying a commoner would be that scandalous, especially if you keep getting honors at the rate you do.

"But Countess, aren't you thinking at all about your future? You have a county to run, a future to prepare for, heirs to raise. Yes, you're not likely to inherit your mother's duchy unless something horrible happens to all your sisters, but you do have a duty to the House."

Feeling out of my depth, I looked at Visha.

"She's not wrong. There are responsibilities that come with your position," Visha said.

I felt a headache coming on. "LoveBlood, Visha. I'm barely a teenager. This can wait."

"That's what you said last year!"

"Yes, and I'm still right," I growled. Crazy demons.

I looked between the pouting women. "You are Ritual Plate Pilots; Centurions in the Imperial Legions; you are professionals. Or was I wrong?

"You're not wrong, Ma'am," Visha stated.

"And do I need to inform Prefect Quirinus that I need her to approve a transfer?"

"You do not need to, Primus," VioletBlood gave a rigid salute.

I returned it and kept in a sigh.

"Don't be too worried," Visha assured her. "Just have patience. I'm sure it will work out for you."

VioletBlood gave a slow blink. As she looked from Visha to me and back, her tails started to swish. "Oh... so that's how it is?" she asked, her haughty smugness returning.

Visha gave an oh so innocent little shrug.
"What?" I asked, not at all frantically. "What are you doing?" Their feelings did nto make sense. Yes LoveBlood seemed to be covetous, plotting, and worse, but Visha was not like that. I was confused.

"Don't worry, Primus," VioletBlood purred. "If you need patience, then... that's a small enough request."

This time Visha's smile did not reassure me.

VioletBlood sat down. On my other side. I was flanked! "Countess, when we get back we may need to make a few arrangements."

I glanced to the door. Part of me hoped for an interruption, but I knew articulating that desire would make things worse: it just might be granted.

The baroness shook her head. "Not like that, just some lessons. Deal with some of your rough edges."

"Deportment classes are very common for young officers. Especially nobles like the both of you," Visha stated as her tail flicked. It was nice to have someone helping me who knew how to wrangle headstrong, bloodthirsty noble Pilots.

My tail twitched as I tried to keep a firm emotional mask. "You are correct that many do take such lessons."

VioletBlood bowed her horns to Visha before turning to me she put her hand on her knee which nearly touched mine. "It's good that you're taking this seriously. We will have an image to maintain, a standard we will be measured against."

I stared at her. We were in a muddy Forward Operating Base in the middle of a jungle hell and had just gone through a running ground support and air to air fight in the pouring rain where one of our squadron mates died and many were seriously injured, including myself...

And she was talking about the need for us to take lessons in which spoon to have soup with and how to tell the maid which doilies were proper? Propping my hands on my knees I exhaled.

"It might make things easier for you," Visha said as she put her hand on mine.

"We are looking out for you," VioletBlood added, mirroring the gesture and capturing my other arm.

I was trapped. I needed a way out.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter!" I eagerly barked, going to my feet and folding my hands.

One of Quirinus' Ritualista saluted us. "Ma'am, the Prefect wants to speak with you."

"Of course," I nodded. "May I ask about what?"

"Can't say, Ma'am, but she's got someone else who flew in with her."

Feeling disquiet I nodded and followed my escort out. I was not sure if that was because I was worried about the meeting or worried about leaving Visha and VioletBlood alone with each other.

++++++

The briefing rooms in FOB EmeraldInferno were nothing special. There were some Display capabilities and communications that could be set up, but really they were just a room with a table and some chairs.

Quirinus was already there, as well as a Centurion I did not recognize. Tall and striking, she had ivory skin even paler than mine, long black hair and grey curled horns. Her wings had black feathers and she had jet-black, silver-trimmed, hooves. She was dressed in standard Legion lorica that had what looked like normal wear and tear.

Outside the briefing room waited about half a squad of Legionaries. Their gear was similarly standard. And they had the expected modifications making the lorica a bit more breezy, carried more water, and the other minor equipment adjustments of Legionaries in a jungle posting

They looked like a light, somewhat undermanned, Recon patrol and their patches bore that out.

However my suspicions were raised the second I sat down in the briefing room and the door was closed behind me, and our visitor took out a small forked crystal and tapped it, setting off a privacy field. My horns buzzed a bit with the baffling signatures it generated.

"Ah, the countess has arrived; you can call me Centurion Nihilus," the black-haired demon said, her grey eyes sparkling.

A Centurion was often in charge of a Recon Patrol. However....

She smiled. It was warm but there was an edge to it. "Your commander can vouch for my bonafides, right Artemis?"
That casual attitude with someone who was her superior. Technically Centurion Nihilus was the lowest ranked person in this room, but she was not acting like it.

"Yes, Invidia," Quirinus sighed. "This woman is who she says she is."

"Ah, I'm not saying any such thing," Invidia smirked.

I kept in a sigh but gave my commander a look.

Quirinus nodded

"I take it you are a Reconnaissance specialist then?" I asked.

Invidia bowed her horns. "One with a broader remit."

Quirinus shot me a warning look, but then nodded.

Managing not to swear; I kept my emotions in check. Wonderful, Invidia was an agent of the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance. CSR was one of the main military intelligence branches of House BlackSky.

One advantage they had over the various Imperial intelligence organs of my previous life was that CSR took the "Cultural" part of their name seriously. Much of their effort was spent on understanding the culture, industry, ideology, society, factions, arcana, history, transport, and commerce of other Houses and polities.

Given the layers of proxies and catspaws in the House Crocelli's Eastern Interior Confederation, I would have been shocked if CSR was not active here.

"You sure can find them, Artemis," she remarked with a smile. "Though even for you to have a protegee get the Crown of the Preserver is quite the feather in your cap."

My tail flicked. "Is this about the late Rodswor sisters?"

"Obviously." Invidia's wings ruffled. "You made quite the impression."

I sighed. "Please tell me this was not actually some sort of revenge plot."

The spy's lip curled up, and I could fee the contempt come off of her. "No. While Battle-Lady Samoth Rodswor would happily kill you to avenge her sister's death, she was not terribly fond of Zaphania."

Snorting, I shook my head. "It was all a pretext to pretend that these weren't Zioxan regulars we killed?"

Quirinus gave a tiny sigh.

"Confirming that is not why I am here, Countess," Invidia smirked.

My tail stilled. Was this about my past life? Or was it something about my mothers? Did my Duchess do something illegal? Or did Mother Clementia get in trouble with the Church?

"Oh, you didn't do anything wrong." Invidia's laugh was cold. "Other than passing out before your girls could finish the job."

I narrowed my eyes.

Invidia murmured smugly.

"She's alive?" The first thought that hit me was this would really complicate the wager I made with the rest of the squadron. It would be easy, but bad for morale to come out and say "We failed. Nobody wins." I would have to come up with something.

"Using the combat footage, telemetry and standard analytical methods, we both confirmed which enemy pilots were killed and worked with local allied assets to recover as many of the Zioxan Satori and Tjardu suits. That is after Garrison and House Crocelli's Jungle Hunters cleared out Vihn."

"Ah, I was not available for that operation," I stated.

"You weren't," Invidia agreed with false cheer. "But we did what we could. The Diluvian retreat was not the most organized, but they did manage to pull out some assets and many of their wounded. However there was much they could not recover."

I pinched my nose. "Samoth was not among the dead."

"About a Flight's worth of Suits were not accounted for." Invidia shrugged. "Obviously, that does not preclude the possibility that the Pilots the Diluvians recovered were not already dead nor that they died from their wounds."

"But that's not a prudent assumption to make," I stated. I had personal experience with how badly one could get wounded and still survive, provided one got medical attention.

"It is not." Quirinus agreed.

"Does this mean now I've got some Zioxan noble after me?"

"I wouldn't say that," Invidia corrected.

"Oh?"

"Well, not the revenge part." Invidia waved her hand. "Yes Samoth might not take her sister's death personally, but she might take the loss of her squadron-mates as more of an affront."

I blinked. "Wait... what are you disagreeing about?"

"The Rodswors are not nobility."

I thought back to Samoth's parasite comment. "I see."

"That is part of Zioxan rhetoric against the nobility of our House and many other Great Houses," Quirinus said.

"But Samoth was set to take the command role of her older sister, and they are ruled by a Dictatrix," I stated.

Invidia flashed her teeth. "Yes, but they see it as authority coming from Ziox herself bestowed to those most worthy. As opposed to the hereditary structures of our system, ones separate from our Imperatrix."

"And I suppose reminding them that I was born a commoner and was elevated due to killing her elder sister would not dissuade such hate." I shook my head.

Invidia gave that cool haughty laugh. "On the contrary! It underscores how the merit advancement for our nobles is soaked in blood. They make the same argument for those who are elevated for industrial, academic, or developmental achievement, that it all is part of serving our war machine."

Which is not entirely wrong, I admitted to myself. "And what is she going to do keep throwing Ritual Plate at me until one of us dies?"

"That would be an expensive proposition, especially for a 'mercenary'. Revenge is rarely profitable," Invidia playfully stated.

"And if she's subsidized by House Ziox?" Quirinus asked.

"That is why I am warning you. It is not just our little countess who may be targeted, but your entire squadron Artemis."

"We are Imperial Legionaries, risk is part of the job," Quirinus stated. "Though being aware of such risks is an advantage."

I made myself nod. Combat risks were one thing, but having someone with access to Ritual Plate with a personal vendetta was a new level. CSR had warned me about this months ago, but that was a theoretical, now the risk of Samoth was far more likely.

"And this is why my Office exists," Invidia bowed her horns to me. "Now Countess, what can my associates do for you?"


End Chapter 13


I'm sure Tauria doesn't need to worry too much about her career, especially with fellow Legionaries there to help her.

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

And apologies, I posted this early before all of Readhead's changes were in. Thanks again for going over the chapter I think it really helps smooth the flow and sharpen things.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
http://fukufics.com

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 14: Verbum Vincet


My toes sank into the sand as small waves splashed over my legs. As I tried to keep my wings dry and clear of the lapping water, I looked across the sea towards the north. Across the bottle-green expanse of the Guardia Sea was... my home.

Eastern Province and Bovitar were about two thousand miles away from the beach I currently stood upon. That said the islands off the coast of Cape Niflhel, the closest part of House BlackSky were only about half that distance away.

I let my tail dip into the pleasantly warm water. Out in the sea, between the horizon and I and blocking my homeward view across the waves, was an Alecton Navy Howe class Fleet Missile Cruiser, accompanied by a BlackSkyvian Jarngreipr class Frigate.

At about four thousand, five hundred gross tons the Jarngreipr was closer to the frigates of my first life than the vessels of my second life. But funnily enough, the Jarngreipr was the largest surface combat vessel House BlackSky could call its own. Officially a part of the Household Fleet, the BlackSkyvian Navy was more of a strange offshoot of an airship-dominated service rather than coequal force all its own. But even the air power-focused House BlackSky had thankfully realized that there were some roles that a surface, or subsurface, warship filled for more neatly than a swarm of Ritual Plate units would.

I inhaled the salty air. It was nice to be out of the jungles for once.

Despite being called a frigate, the Jarngreipr was more heavily armed than a Mace Torpedo Destroyer airship. It carried two Spatha Light VTOLs, as opposed to the Mace's single unit. The highly agile aerial airframes were useful for resupply, anti-submarine warfare, and a multitude of other support roles. The heavier armament included more Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes, more Vel missile launchers, two RP squadrons compared to the Mace's one squadron, a Tormenta's worth of four 4.9in guns, and a suite of conventional aquatic torpedoes.

In light of the fact that, despite being longer, the Mace was a tenth the weight of the Jarngreipr, the difference in armament was understandable. One had the buoyancy to float in air, the other had the buoyancy to float on seawater. Of course despite its relatively modest armament, the Mace Destroyer was the far more mobile platform and relied upon speed, standoff capabilities and wards for armor.

Relatively powerful though the Jarngreipr class was, the nearby Howe cruiser had nearly three times the displacement. The Howe was amongst the largest of House Alecto's surface combat ships and was certainly the largest model produced in significant numbers. In addition to the Howes, the Alecton Navy also retained two squadrons of heavily refitted fast battleships, some battlecruisers that were more of pocket fleet leaders for colonial patrols, and enough amphibious assault ships to move a respectable quantity of Alecton Marines and their equipment.

I gave happy a sigh and stepped deeper into the water. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my wings dry and safe from the waves. I knew it was a struggle that could only end in the inevitable, but I sought to put that dire end off for as long as I could; after all once they got wet, my feathers would become a magnet for sand.

House Trosier had taken a slightly different view on naval power and doctrine than their rival House Alecto. The Trosic Armada worked to minimize their surface assets by two methods: first by fielding smaller and faster surface ships, and second using more submersible assets, including some impressive submersible RP carriers. Though, as larger submarines, they were a bit nosier than stealthier, and much smaller, BlackSkyvian equivalents. The Armada still had a core of capital vessels and airships then they operated in force.

All three Houses made use of submarines. Both airborne RP carriers and submarine launch platforms were made practical by the lightweight nature of RP and the relatively small resource footprint required to field Flights. Considering the damage a hit-and-run attack by a submarine-based RP Flight could inflict before retreating back below the waves, submarines were an essential part of all three Houses' fleets.

The clouds moved overhead, stealing my sun and leaving me in their shadow. The Trosic Armada's doctrine was largely influenced by having to counter both the BlackSkyvian Household Fleet and the Alecton Navy. Where House Alecto could count on the massed air fleets of House BlackSky being allied or at least not a threat.

The shadow grew deeper over me. I knew I was not alone on the beach. "Primus?" Visha asked. A hand waved in front of me.

"Is she okay?" the baroness asked as she splashed up next to me.

Visha looked to me and then back out to ships far off-shore. "Ah, she's distracted."

"Is our countess thinking deep thoughts again?"

"We are near Usang, which is a major Alecton city," Visha mused.

"And naval base," I added automatically. "It's the home port of their Fourth Central Fleet. Interestingly, the Fourth has a larger than expected complement of Hammerhead Attack Subs and Kraken Missile Submarines."

"Yes?" Visha asked. The dark blue swimsuit she had on was quite nice, if a bit daringly cut with thin straps around the shoulders and hips.

Stamping a foot in the water, VioletBlood sighed. She wore a rather fancy silver suit that I wondered if she had packed as part of her kit. "You're encouraging her."

"Combined with the two Ruyter class amphibious assault ships stationed here, plus a cruiser squadron and a fleet carrier complement, the Fourth's composition speaks volumes about Alecto's intentions to close the Guardia Sea to House Trosier," I explained.

VioletBlood took my arm. "Tauria... we're on leave."

"We are in a very important part of the world," I countered and started gesturing. "One of the southern tips of Diyu is a thousand miles that way. We're in one of the larger coastal concessions of House Alecto, behind that is the Minor House Crocelli, and yet further south is their Eastern Interior Confederation."

"We are all aware of that. How many months did we spend in that swamp keeping the peace?" VioletBlood demanded.

"I would not exactly call that a peace keeping mission. You see, our role was more along the lines of protecting a strategic asset while the actual counter-insurgency work was carried out by our... local allies."

VioletBlood rolled her eyes at me.

"Now who's encouraging her?" Visha teased.

Flicking her tail through the water, VioletBlood harrumphed. "Maybe we should have had her wear a hat. She might be getting too much sun."

"I am not getting too much sun!" I stamped my foot, ignoring how petulant it must have looked.

"Maybe she's dehydrated. Primus, do you want a drink?" Visha asked.

"I suppose..." I turned away from the sea and looked back up the beach. The rest of our squadron, and our maintainers were here. Roughly a light century's worth of personnel, all told. And the Immunes century of combat engineers a bit further up the beach were also enjoying themselves. This part of the coast was a private beach belonging to the resort facilities Alecto had leased to House BlackSky for the purposes of R&R. Which of course meant that the resort required a fair amount of security. Which explained the Yew coastal boats out the water and the RP on overwatch.

"She's doing it again," VioletBlood sighed as she leaned in and stared into my eyes.

"Maybe we should get her some lunch," Visha pulled my arm.

The smell coming from the converted drum grills was enticing. And there was a fair amount of beverages, and not just alcoholic ones. "I should get my share..." I allowed.

Given Samoth's probable survival, I had decided to give the whole squadron a consolation prize and covered the consumables for this particular outing.

Being in House Alecto's territory did mean that it was fairly easy to purchase such supplies.

"You got her that fancy suit and she didn't even swim yet?" GreyDawn asked as she lounged in a beach chair, her crimson hair pulled back in a rough ponytail. She was sipping a glass of ginger schnapps over ice and was nibbling a pita with some sort of savory meat filling.

"She keeps plotting," VioletBlood pouted.

"We think she's just hungry," Visha said, leaning close to me.

"At least you got her into the swimsuit," GreyDawn noted, taking a long sip as she stretched her wings out to better catch the sun.

"It's fluffy," I growled, refusing to look down at the ruffled and bowed confection I was wearing.

"It's fuchsia, and I gave you options," VioletBlood said.

"The other one was pink! And a bikini!" I growled.

"You didn't have to wear anything."

"It's not a nude beach!" I retorted with another highly mature foot stomp.

GreyDawn slowly blinked at me. "She hasn't seen her Ritualista has she?" the older Pilot asked VioletBlood.

"What is Gibbs up to?"

"Not her. The little blonde one, Flavia."

VioletBlood rolled her eyes. "Of course she's naked. It's her suit that the Countess is borrowing."

"What? I didn't think to pack swimwear into a war zone." My tail flicked. My Ritualista volunteered to have me borrow this swimsuit. However... if she was going to be a nudist why did she even bring a suit? It's not like I was not going to give this back to her.

"Come on, let's get you some food," Visha put her arm through mine and pulled me along.

On the way up the beach we stopped and had a few quiet words with Octavia. She was taking the loss of her flight-mate rather well. Sofia had been a gregarious pilot with amber skin and short black hair. She had been with the Squadron for quite a while, and had originally been a member of the Flight I had taken over. And now, she was another casualty in our House's long-term "assistance" in stability, peace-keeping, or whatever they called securing our resource interests in this part of the Home plane.

Despite having been close to Sophia, I was not very worried about Octavia. I had more concerns about how Primus Mercy Gabinus was handling it. Octavia was the replacement of her last KIA.

It was no fault of Mercy's, but when you only had three Flights in a Squadron it only took a bit of bad luck to have one Flight get disproportionate casualties. And from there it was a short distance to getting a reputation as an "unlucky" Flight.

VioletBlood nudged me along. "Come on, Countess."

My tail whipped around and might have hit her. Which... glancing around at the horseplay, catch, and general recreation probably would not have been considered remarkable.

The smell of the grill was getting very enticing. Maybe my flight was right about me being hungry.... Sausages and kabobs were not my normal fare, but Quirinus was using a brush to spread various sauces that smelled great over the cooking meat. Not to mention whatever was in the improvised smoker. And Caenis had rigged up a pot of simmering oil and was frying bobbing bits of dough and had another pot full of cinnamon and sugar.

"Countess," Quirinus bowed her horns to me.

I somehow kept from smiling. Her floppy sun-hat was practical but it did slightly detract from her gravitas. She also had a full length black apron over her own teal bikini.

My squadron commander had no such limits and chuckled at my getup.

"I have been told I need to eat."

"Running on empty is bad for a Pilot," Quirinus stated soberly.

"I've got plenty of filling zeppole," Caenis said as she used a slotted metal scoop to fish out some of the frying pastries, gently shake them, then dump them into the sugar bucket.

VioletBlood's tail swished eagerly at that.

"That does sound good, and it's nice to be able to get Alecton food," Quirinus noted as she bowed her horns to me.

"We can still get local supplies to supplement our rations in the Interior," Caenis shrugged. Local supplies were always risky when you were part of an occupation. Yes, FOB EmeraldInferno was in an area rather far from Diluvian tribal lands. The Forward Operating Base was picked to give defensive depth to the mines and refinery that were the main reason House BlackSky cared enough to garrison troops here.

Still, it was a risk to pull in local supplies. It was a vector for sabotage.

"It's getting more expensive, no?" Visha asked between the happy noises she made over the grill.

"Some farmers in the Interior are having problems," Caenis said. The Eastern Interior Confederation had a fair number of areas that could support a lot of plant growth such as jungles.

"Poor harvests?" VioletBlood asked as she was given a bag full of warm little fried and sugared pastries. "I heard rumors of some Alecton overflights over agricultural regions friendly to the Diluvians."

Caenis' gold eyes shimmered. "Defoliants? That's a bit obvious, no?"

VioletBlood tilted her head as she started eating the zeppole. I frowned at her. "What then?"

"Well, clearing all that land is hard, what if other things were... seeded from the air? To encourage growth, but the wrong growth."

Quirinus gave her second in command a look as she filled a little carton with sausages and kabobs before going over to the smoker.

"Like invasive species?" VioletBlood made a thoughtful noise as she fed me a pastry.

I chewed and enjoyed the fluffy sweet pastry. If true, that could be diabolical, deliberately sowing things like kudzu, eucalyptus, or even just fast-growing weeds into enemy fields would increase farming difficulties. Weeding was hard enough in the Interior.

Slicing some smoked brisket she had pulled out of the smoker, Quirinus gave all of us a quelling gaze. "Such rumors are unfounded. And you all need to be a bit more careful when it comes to discussing any dirty deeds done by our allies." She handed the carton to Visha. "Be more like Centurion Shadow. She knows when to be silent."

No matter the species, messing with their food supplies was risky. Famines can break civilizations. And not being civilized was a stigma on Diyu, it was part of what separated the Great Houses from the Minor Houses, the Minor Houses from the city-state and tribes, and those from the savage, barbarian broods.

"Thank you Ma'am; it smells delicious," Visha bowed her horns to Quirinus.

VioletBlood's tail flicked and I could feel her desire to roll her eyes. I suppose she wanted to continue to gossip about "perfidious Alecto". They were an ally of House BlackSky, but they did have a reputation.

That does not mean that the other Great Houses were above such "dirty tricks" either. Though I suppose that was why the rumors were adding weeds. Unlike introducing rodents or blights weeds were a problem that could be surmounted, maybe with a few extra goats. I could see the rationale, the more energy and resources put into food production, the less the Diluvians could spare for combat.

Though, I suspected our questionable operations branch, the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance, had a whole variety of creative ideas when it came to sapping the Diluvians' will and capability to fight.

I had spent the bulk of my career in the legions trying to avoid the attention of CSR and after meeting with Centurion Nihilus I felt my instincts were correct.

"I'll get our drinks," I said, going over to the stamped aluminum coolers. I opened one and found it was full of chilled wine bottles and a good fraction of the Squadron's liquor stock. I went to the next double-walled cooler and found some bottles of sparkling juice, mostly pomegranate and citrus blends.

VioletBlood, who was still eating the occasional zeppole, frowned at me.

"Do you really need to drink?" Visha asked her.

"That ginger schnapps GreyDawn got seemed really enticing," the baroness pouted and looked to Quirinus.

Our squadron commander chuckled as she closed up the smoker and added more sausages and pierced some more of the bits of lamb, onions, peppers, and other vegetables to make more kabobs before putting them on the grill.

A few Ritualista from First Flight had ambled up and were being given more food. I averted my gaze as a couple had decided to go topless. Fortunately, Visha was helping me back to the towels over where GreyDawn was lounging.

Though by the way LoveBlood was smirking and swishing her tail, she had also noticed my discomfort. "You are such a bashful, Countess. You're in the Legions, you know how showers are in the barracks. If you wanted fancy things like privacy you should have gone into the Fleet."

I snorted. Conditions on fleet airships could be a bit more spacious, at least on larger airships. Lighter-than-air craft were limited by mass more than volume. Smaller airships however... were cramped in both mass and volume. Either way, a Fleet Airship was still a military airship and was not going to be exactly luxurious when it came to crew berthing. "It's not that."

"We were also cadets together and in the ballet troupe," VioletBlood gave a little smirk to Visha, to show off what the baroness presumed as her knowing me for longer.

I sighed. For her part, Visha did seem a bit jealous. Which did not make any sense. Unless she was being really committed to the false history we had agreed on, that is the lack of history.

"Really, I'm not sure why you're worried about the bathing suit. Given the leotards you've worn up on stage."

"That's different," I pouted.

VioletBlood looked to Visha for clarification.

"Our Primus has her quirks," Visha stated as she put the carton down and shook the beach towel free of sand.

GreyDawn looked up and took a sip of her drink. Which had somehow been refreshed while we were away getting our own food and drink. Idly, I wondered when she had gotten up to get more ice.

"You're just buttering her up," VioletBlood said, eating another pastry. I noticed she had already eaten a quarter of the bag's contents.

Visha tilted her head. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you want to play double's Liar's Dice with GreyDawn after lunch."

GreyDawn nodded. "That would be fun, those Combat Engineers up the beach are ripe targets."

"This is what happens when no one in the squadron wants to play against you two," I noted as I sat down. Even with the towel as an insulator the sand was warm. It felt a bit odd to have my tail go out onto the beach and swish.

"They won't play for serious odds, Ma'am," GreyDawn said to me as Visha handed her a kabob.

"It's still fun to play, you really get to know people when you have a bit of dice or cards with them," Visha said happily as she sliced open a buttered sourdough bun she had gotten from somewhere, slid a sausage into it, and offered it to me.

I bit into the sausage in a bun and chewed. Visha was always very skilled at bluffing and reading people, and GreyDawn could calculate odds and strategize betting. They made a very effective team.

"They can go off and play some games." VioletBlood smiled at me. "We could go flying or maybe for a swim."

Visha shrugged and gave me a kabob, ready to be consumed as soon as I finished my first nosh.

"I'm not in any great rush." I shrugged as I finished off the little sausage. It was not too spicy, but the mix of herbs added to the meat blend had given the link a zesty kick.

"We could just relax," Visha offered.

"And later today we could go out, maybe see a play. There is a theater here. It would be in Bantish, but it should be a bit civilized."

GreyDawn seemed amused at the baroness' antics.

"The Prefect might have something planned for tonight too," Visha reminded.

"I was thinking before that!" VioletBlood said, a bit petulantly.

I bit into the lamb. It was moist and delicious with a light spicing. Our squadron commander had a surprising variety of skills, one of them being cooking. Lamb was so lean that it was hard to keep from drying out, especially over coals. I wondered if she used a special marinade or some other sort of cooking method to keep the meat nice and juicy.

The other vegetables on the metal skewers were perfectly handled, cooked without being burnt. If she wanted out of the Imperial Legions, I was sure Quirinus could easily get a job as a chef -and I'd be happy to write a recommendation to that effect if she ever asked.

Sadly for the hypothetical restaurant's customers, I doubted Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus, as a career centurion, had any plans to leave the Legions in the foreseeable future.

I would not begrudge her choice. She had been a good instructor when I was a cadet; as far as commanders went, she was thoroughly acceptable, and did not lack in any regard. Besides, it was impossible to ignore that she had take me under her figurative wing. To a degree, I guess that was expected, considering my young age and lack of previous seasoning. So, as good of a cook as she was, I had a vested interest in Quirinus staying in the Legions for as long as she could to continue to watch my back.

Since it was an open secret that I would have a squadron command of my own within a couple years if I did not get myself killed, that selfish desire was happily in line with the best interest of my organization. After all, being a sensible Legionary, Quirinus would want to make sure I could handle such responsibility before she left the service to prevent any post-retirement tarnishing of her sterling reputation.

I ate more of the kabob as my tail swished happily.

I appreciated the attention on her part. I would rather my superiors carefully have me grow into the command position made inevitable my own reputation, skills and noble ties, especially when the alternative was jumping me two grades and giving me a command I would have to scramble to staff, equip, train, and deploy.

Still, part of me did think that Quirinus had missed her calling by not becoming a professional chef.

I wondered if that part of me was just projecting my own concerns and how I was counting down the years and months until my term of service finished onto my current commanding officer.

"She's doing it again, Visha," VioletBlood pouted as she poked me with her own kabob.

"Am not!" I growled.

"Then what were you thinking about?" VioletBlood asked. "Some sort of bold tactic or flaw in our enemy's air power doctrine?"

"I was thinking about what I would be doing if I hadn't joined the Legions," I sighed.

VioletBlood blinked.

Right, she had wanted to be a Ritual Plate Pilot since before she could walk, let alone fly. She had also got her guardian to funnel a portion of her inheritance into Ritual Plate lessons.

"What would you have done?" VioletBlood asked before daintily chewing on a sausage. "I'm guessing you don't mean like the Fleet or an Auxilia. Maybe a Guild position? Your mother does have her own mercenary squadron, though most mercenary Pilots are veterans..."

"Maybe you'd do more ballet?" Visha suggested as she ate.

"Maybe. I could have gone professional with ballet," I joked, taking some of the fried sweets before LoveBlood ate them all. Being a ballerina was not that bad of a job. It came with travel and some status, and was fairly safe, if punishing on your feet. Demons with hooves did have an advantage. Yes, the costumes were humiliating, but it was just on stage.

"That is an elegant and cultured vocation," VioletBlood approvingly said.

"Maybe you can start doing it again, if it means that much to you!" Visha happily suggested.

Tail stiff, I stared at her.

VioletBlood frowned. "We did have to resign from the ballet troupe when we got assigned to Quirinus' squadron. And there really hasn't been much of a chance to practice out in the jungle."

I gave a little exhale.

"Maybe when we get rotated back to Bovitar," VioletBlood said.

Looking out over the water, I chewed my lip. "Maybe," I allowed before turning back around to look at the rest of the squadron. They were enjoying themselves. The revelry was still rather contained.

I had enough experience with soldiers to know that partying could get quite hardy. I was a bit surprised no one had hired any entertainers. I was sure the resort would have a roster of trusted providers. Maybe Quirinus had put out a quiet word that there would be none of that today. At least among her and Mercy's Flights.

"Have you ever visited Alecton territory?" VioletBlood asked Visha.

"There was a family vacation when I was younger," Visha said as she sipped her drink.

"And how was it? This seems very nice but I have heard their more northerly areas can be a bit... dreary."

"Oh, they're pleasant enough!" Visha assured the baroness after giving me a look. House Alecto had some similarities to the Allied Kingdom but with some of the low countries mixed in. Which in our lives were part of the Empire on their border to the sea with the Francois Republic.

And while some parts of House Alecto were rather temperate, such as their northernmost enclave on Atalia Island or their enclave on the southern part of Minor House Mergera, many of their areas were far warmer such as the territory we were in which was across from House BlackSky's southernmost point.

Though the Alecton home island was just a bit south of Amber Island, where Visha grew up, and about the same latitude as Bovitar so I suppose it was temperate enough.

"The currents and jet stream from the Curae Sea would make things warmer, I gather," I said after having another sausage.

VioletBlood shook her head at me. Did I really have a reputation for woolgathering?

"Yes, that is true," Visha agreed with me and I found my plate was refilled.

"I guess we have gone on a tour of..." VioletBlood paused. "Five Houses?" she asked, giving Visha a sly look. My wingwoman had missed out on our adventures in Andromache, RedStorm, and Vualia.

"Join the Legions, see the world," VioletBlood then laughed.

"You should be grateful, Baroness," I made a sweeping, imperious gesture. "Look at the lovely beach bestowed upon us by our Imperatrix."

VioletBlood and Visha smirked.

"We could go for a swim," VioletBlood offered.

I looked down at my suit and frowned and then pushed some sand with the fins on my tail.

"Don't worry about your wings," VioletBlood assured.

"I'm not worried about them!"

The baroness rolled her eyes and looked over at Visha. "She's very particular."

"She is," Visha agreed. "Maybe remind her that you have experience with feathers."

I glanced between the two.

"I have a cousin, who has dark blue feathers," VioletBlood assured. "I asked for a bit of advice and got some special shampoo and she did warn me about sand."

"Shampoo?" I knew how to groom myself. And that included my feathers. Normal soap and water was sufficient.

"It will add some more luster to them," VioletBlood reached out but held her hand inches from my wings. "They could be so very shiny."

I eyed the baroness who had, after months in a jungle FOB, put her hair back in her preferred drill-like curls. I could not begrudge her a little primping - we had all gotten cleaned up after all, as soon as we left the jungle. Besides, as a species we tended to be rather fastidious and vain, as well as gregarious and aggressive.

Even I had spent more time than was strictly necessary for purely hygienic purposes in the showers after we left the FOB, thoroughly washing out my hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. While far from VioletBlood's elaborate curls, the ponytail was better than the lank mess an perpetual helmet-hair of the last several months. Not that I would prioritize hair care over helmets, of course. While helmets played havoc with hair, I would take a good helmet over pristine hair any day of the week. Helmets as standard equipment was something that I had argued for, and gotten, for the 203rd. That and goggles.

I would not want to pilot a Ritual Plate without the helmet and face mask. Not just for the physical protection and environmental control but also the communication and data display systems.

VioletBlood smirked. "Are you thinking about fluffy wings or some bit of Legion kit?"

I glared at her.

"We can finish up our lunch and then go for a swim," Visha offered.

I shrugged.

"Or we could just take a nap on the warm sand on this nice towel," VioletBlood countered. "You know, be rested for tonight's entertainment."

I snorted. And had to keep from laughing at how the baroness seemed to droop.

"I think the Prefect will have a great night planned for all of us," Visha said.

"Yes, but our baroness was trying to make it sound salacious," GreyDawn drawled.

"Indeed, she was," I agreed.

VioletBlood pouted.

"You did mention wanting to visit, maybe get some Alecton culture?" Visha asked as she took the bag of pastries to give to me.

"There was that idea to see an opera." VioletBlood shrugged. "It's better than trying some R&R in House Crocelli."

"That is a larger security risk," I stated. "Well... depends on where you are."

"The Crocelli outside of the Interior Confederations is almost, um... more civilized," VioletBlood admitted.

I sighed at her.

"They are superstitious," the baroness haughtily said. "Maybe it's due to living out in the jungles."

"As opposed to the very urbane Eastern Province?" Visha innocently asked.

VioletBlood sniffed. "The Diluvians and the other tribes warn their children to not go out at night, to cover up their windows."

"Those jungles are full of predators," I reminded.

"Do you think the Navish are real? They're just a bedtime story."

I eyed her. "We use invisible spirits all the time. Zephyr can be powerful and the Notus spirits guiding our Torpedoes can be vicious."

"That's different. I'm not saying there aren't vicious spirits or predators out in there in the jungle somewhere, but that doesn't make every primitive superstition about lurking monsters true too."

I shook my head. "It doesn't really matter if the Navish are real or not. The Diluvians believe they stalk their villages, and... they're afraid of vengeful, predatory forest spirits..." I trailed off.

"What?" VioletBlood asked.

"Just thinking. Fear is powerful. And there are rumors..."

Visha looked at me.

I shook my head. No need to tell VioletBlood about the rumors of Alecton meddling and something CSR might be doing to help House Crocelli keep order.

VioletBlood chuckled. "Right, so you'll talk about crop sabotage but you're worried that we, I'm sorry, our allies might have dirty hands?"

I snorted. After talking with Invidia, I would not put much beyond the will of the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance.

"Have we heard anything about the replacement for Mercy's Flight?" Visha asked.

VioletBlood gave a slight smile at the attempt to change the subject.

"With my luck, it'll be another noble cadet pilot," GreyDawn said as she sipped her schnapps.

VioletBlood bristled.

"Yeah, it would be bad if our squadron got a reputation for handling young pilots."

The baroness gave me a hurt look.

"I would much rather have our cadets spend more time growing their skills and maturing before being sent into a combat posting."

"We did fine!" she huffed.

"Yes, but the point of the cadet program is to find talent early and give them extra training with Ritual Plate and then command lessons. Sending all those cadets into field postings defeats the purpose."

"It's like eating our seed corn," Visha added as she ate a kabob.

I nodded to her. "Exactly. Activating young Cadets robs future years of a crop of older and more experienced Pilots."

VioletBlood sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's just odd being some of the youngest Pilots in our entire Wing."

"House BlackSky does not, as a general rule, prefer child soldiers," I reminded. "We're exceptions."

The petulant pout to VioletBlood's glare underscored my point. She was a capable Pilot, but she was also a war maniac who got a bit too gleeful when it came to killing the enemy.

Visha nearly choked on her sausage as she laughed. After all, this was the second empire we had lived in that was willing to... bend the rules when it came to putting younger airborne mages into combat slots.

"Well, I could go for a swim," VioletBlood announced as she stood up and stretched out her wings. "Anybody coming with me?"

Visha gave me an interested look.

I pondered. Mostly I wondered if VioletBlood really wanted some younger little proto-Aces she could bully well... mould into followers. I would have to keep an eye on her, especially as one day LoveBlood would make Primus and have a Flight to command herself.

"Come on, Countess, I can see your wings twitching in anticipation," VioletBlood teased.

I finished off my lunch and then stood up and flicked my tail. Visha followed. Looking out I could see that a lot of the squadron's Ritualista were already swimming and, dare I say it, frolicking.

I gave a little smile. I should have done more with the 203rd when I had the chance. But given my age and my authority as the unit commander myself playing out on the beach with them could have undermined things. My age was less of an issue here, and I was just one Flight Leader.

Visha slipped into position. VioletBlood saw me tensing, but she reacted too slowly as I shoved her.... into Visha's arms. My wingwoman spun her lightly but I was already sprinting down the beach and had a head start.

I put out my wings and with a flap went airborne and coasted over the start of the water and gained just enough altitude to slip into the bottle-green water in a shallow foot-first dive. I was pretty sure that the water was deep enough that far out, but I wanted to be cautious, and not risk hitting my head on a rock or something.

Popping to the surface, I looked around to see that LoveBlood was about to land onto me, she had not been so cautious and was coming down head first. At least her arms were held in front of her.

There was a tangling ugly splash as we spun around before bobbing back up, Visha had swum up to us and shook her head.

I freed myself from the pouting baroness and paddled over to a bit of open sea and rolled onto my back. Wings and other limbs out, I looked up into the sky as I was carried by the waves. It was almost peaceful. I tried not to think too much about the airship I could see up in the sky. It looked like a civilian model. Probably shipping fast-moving supplies across the Gaudia Sea. Or maybe it had a destination further inland.

Visha and VioletBlood came over to me.

Both were smiling. That seemed rather ominous. Them working together was more harmonious but seemed to bring me more trouble.

Fortunately they merely pounced on me and, using her wingtip, Visha declared me "it" before she and VioletBlood then swam off.

I had a moment of shock as I rolled over to tread water. The two had even split up. Fine, if they wanted to make a challenge of it, I would show them. Kicking, I darted after VioletBlood.

Visha was taller and had longer legs and wings, and from her stories of growing up on Amber Island she had far more experience swimming.

VioletBlood tried to go fully underwater to escape me but that was folly. I quickly caught up to her and after a brief tumble I managed to tag her back. Next came the hard part: I had to escape.

Like air, water is a fluid. However, it is far denser and far more viscous. This is why aquatic combat and aerial combat, while having similarities, also have key differences. To my luck, VioletBlood went with her trained instincts and maneuvered as if she was in the air.

As she wallowed, I managed to dart away, and made a mental note that I needed to request some aquatic and diver training for my Flight.

Fortunately for Visha, VioletBlood had target fixation and focused on chasing me. I made a note to make this tag game a bit more complex. Swimming, I twisted around and led VioletBlood closer to Visha. Then with a gleeful burst, the Baroness took the bait and swapped targets, trying to tag the Islander Pilot.

My competitive edge began to wane as my feathers grew increasingly waterlogged, making them less effective and less maneuverable than the Vs'.

It did not take much longer for Visha to surge ahead on points. Though mildly disappointed at how handily I had been beaten, I took it as a lesson and added more aquatic training to my mental list.

VioletBlood was the first one to ask to get out of the water.

I hardly objected as I was more than willing to get out as well.

Despite carefully tracking across the beach to our blankets, a lot of sand did stick to my feet and legs and a bit was kicked up by my wings and tail.

GreyDawn had fallen asleep under her parasol. Moving around the squadron who were mostly playing and relaxing, Visha had run ahead to get some more food and refreshments.

She was already sitting down on the towel by the time I had so carefully walked up. VioletBlood for her part was following at my heel.

Kneeling down on the towel, I found Visha helping me stretch out and lay down. That was pretty comfortable, especially when she had more of those fried pastries.

VioletBlood for her part started cleaning my wings and using a special brush to preen them and remove any sand that had gotten in around my wing roots. It was oddly relaxing and reminded me of when Mother Clementia would help brush my hair and wings.

I might have yawned and Visha helped provide a place for me to put my head down which would give VioletBlood a better angle to work. It was nice to, for a small time, be able to put aside my concerns.

++++++

"Paymon-flagged freighter, you are entering restricted waters, prepare for boarding, reduce your speed to 10 knots and change your heading," the navy dispatcher said over an open channel in Silvan Latin before giving a course. She then repeated herself in Bantish and then Paymi.

My Flight and Mercy's, still down one, were configured in Strike mode complete with Lance projectors. Quirinus' Flight was configured for air superiority and acted as our escort.

One could argue that a Ritual Plate squadron was rather heavy air support for one supposedly merchant ship.

And that was right. The Legions had loaned us to the Fleet for this joint operation. A Household Fleet Jarngreipr class Frigate with a couple Mulberry Fast Attack Crafts were closing in. They would all stay at a respectable distance while the Spatha Light VTOLs on the Frigate deployed the boarding party. Each Fleet vessel had their own Ritual Plate Combat Air Patrol up just in case.

Which allowed us to act as a dedicated strike package.

Nearby an Alecton Navy Howe class Fleet Missile Cruiser lurked. Their role was less in case the freighter tried to run, or fight, and more in case someone else came in to try and defend it. A squadron out of the cruiser was doing anti-submarine warfare with an admirable degree of paranoia.

"Paymon-flagged freighter, you still need to change course," the dispatcher stated before going to the two other languages.

"They do know they're not going to make it to port, right?" VioletBlood asked over the Flight channel.

"Patience," I cautioned her. I then pushed to her the coordinates of some small ships that had been on station near the port which had moved out. The Crocelli coast guard and revenue ships were a mix of BlackSkyvian and Alecton surplus and were thus a bit smaller than the Mulberries.

Still, it was enough to show the freighter that they had no chance of sneaking in. Now, it was a question of when the freighter's captain and her crew would notice.

It was doubtful that they noticed the pair of Venture scout airships and the single Kolibri shadowing the freighter. The Kolibri patrol airship was configured with a pair of Spatha VTOLs. The Kolibri would provide a backup group of Legionaries to land on the freighter.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze this is your last warning, change your heading and maintain speed," the dispatcher said with only a tiny bit of irritation. After she repeated herself in the other languages, there was a pause.

I noticed the freighter was still trying to make for the port.

"Primus, ready fire solution." An exasperated voice cut into the Flight command channel.

"Target, Tribune? Quirinus asked.

"Single Lance Strike over the bow. I want their attention, but I don't want them sunk, yet."

"Confirm." Quirinus replied. "Tauria, you can have the honor."

"Yes, Ma'am," I automatically replied. I could see the wisdom in having me take the shot, as opposed to someone like VioletBlood.

I went to my Flight channel. "Okay girls, I've got orders to make a statement. Check your fire, this is a solo warning."

I made sure to get acknowledgment from all the members of my Flight. And then had them follow me as I changed heading to cross the target.

On my display, I mapped out the heading of the Freighter. As my Lance batteries charged, I double-checked the lead. My goal was to get close enough to make a statement, but not so close that I damaged the ship's bow.

"Commencing Strike," I transmitted as I adjusted my aim and checked the location. The composite data from my Gorgon Rig and the various other scrying systems in this task force made the freighter rather clear.

Lances charged, my gauntlets locked, and I fired.

An antic beam shot out and raced down towards the freighter. However it fell short and the massive evocative energy hit the water and blew up in a massive burst of water. It was like a giant depth charge went off just ahead and to the starboard of the freighter. A wave of water went over the ship's bow.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze the next shots will sink you. Change course and prepare for boarding," the dispatcher stated.

I kept in a smile. At about five hundred feet in length the Sunset Breeze was on the larger end of a midsize freighter. Officially, it was set up as a dry bulk carrier and would normally carry grain. However, it had some conversions and several of its aft holds could be converted to containerized cargo. It was a less efficient use of tonnage than a dedicated container ship, but it gave some advantage in being able to supply some smaller Minor House Ports.

This was an overwhelming amount of firepower for a single commercial ship.

Which was the point.

Slowly, very slowly the Sunset Breeze changed its heading and started moving away from the coastline.

A few more minutes passed and the Paymon freighter reached the instructed heading and held to it.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze prepare to accept an inspection teams. Continue course and speed," the dispatcher said.

I sipped some water as the Spatha Light VTOLs took to the air and started to approach. It wondered if there would be canine units on the inspection teams. Or maybe there would be a clairvoyant with short range remote viewing or maybe a spirit caller. There were a lot of places to hide items on a ship the size of the Sunset Breeze.

"DiamondDust, I want your Flight to do a flyby before the inspectors land," Quirinus ordered.

"Ma'am?" I said in a respectfully questioning tone.

My squadron commander laughed. "Tauria, the inspection teams have Sarpedona running escort. I want you to rattle their bridge windows."

"Understood," I said and then went to my Flight channel and passed the orders down as I outlined a flight path.

I cynically wondered if this was a way to test if the Sunset Breeze had air defenses. A pass by my Flight would also get some up-close telemetry and we were faster than the escort RP force.

VioletBlood was eager while Visha and GreyDawn were more reserved. The latter seemed downright suspicious of this whole mission. I could not blame her, a healthy sense of cynicism was a vital survival trait in the Legions.

We accelerated and dropped altitude. The freighter started to get closer and my breathing became regular. The scrying telemetry from our Gorgon Rigs came into even greater resolution. There were a couple crew out on the wings port and starboard of the bridge. They did not seem to be carrying any weapons and were merely standing watch. Which admittedly meant they had to rely on their night vision.

I had our speed top out and we were over mach one. Which would help give an impressive display as we flew over.

"I told you she's still a ballerina at heart," VioletBlood mock whispered to Visha, while pointedly transmitting over the Flight channel.

I pushed down the irritation. "If you have time to joke, you have time to mind your sectors. The brass horns and the spooks have a reason to think this freighter is worth the effort. If you eat a missile because you're distracted, I will be very cross."

"Yes, Ma'am," VioletBlood stated.

We blew over the freighter not much above its antennae and funnels. And true to my Prefect Centurion's wishes our sonic booms made an impression. I was not sure if the glass in the bridge's windows actually rattled but our passing was obvious.

It was all rather heavy-handed. Minor House Paymon was on very good terms with House Alecto. Hence they were the velvet glove while we were displaying the mailed fist. My tension grew as I did not see any weapons installations or threats. I expected them to make a fight of this.

After buzzing over the freighter I had us take to a higher altitude. Quirinus had my flight doing an overwatch of the freighter while the other two Flights in our squadron were further out watching for other threats.

The Spatha and their Sarpedona escorts came closer.

"Polyxo Flight this is Spatha Flight 6," a VTOL Pilot drawled.

"Greetings Spatha Flight, this is Diamond Flight," I transmitted.

"Really? Good to finally meet you," another voice cut in, this from the commander of the Ritual Plate escorts. "Word is you've done some solid ground support for some multi-role jockeys."

"We may have to do more work, but at least we get paid the same," I joked.

The Pilots chuckled. "Well said, Diamond." the VTOL pilot noted. "I'm looking over the scrying intake, including that latest flyby. You really believe this thing's just a defenseless freighter?"

I studied the composite intelligence from various sources and played back over time. "My gut says no. But I can't see any data backing up them being armed."

"A Paymon freighter tends to run with escort, at least near House Trosier," the VTOL pilot noted.

"We are a bit far from Trosic waters," the commander of the two Sarpedona Flights sighed. "Given what it took them to change course, I don't think these are simple merchant sailors who got a bit of comms trouble."

"I'll still drop off my girls then," the VTOL pilot noted as the formation continued its intercept path with the freighter.

"We'll be doing overwatch."

"That's great, the inspection team will be thrilled to hear that if things go bad the freighter can be sunk around them," the VTOL pilot chuckled.

"You'll only need my girls if your Sarpedona jockeys can't quite cut it," I said with mock levity.

"How generous," the VTOL Pilot noted. "You two can work out your tail-measuring contest. I've got some Legionaries to land."

The Sarpedona escorts spread out into formation that covered the length of the freighter while keeping them from moving into a full-blown hover. Speed was energy and was useful for defense and mobility.

However, the light VTOLs had to reduce their speed to match the freighter. There was a fairly flat spot aft of the bow-mounted island that held the bridge and much of the crew quarters. The Spatha crossed the freighter on a perpendicular angle and without landing slowed and dropped to a quick low hover.

They stopped long enough to drop off two inspection teams plus a quartet of large canines. Ondani shepherds were energetic, large grey and black working and scent dogs that had some Spitz in their lineage but were a bit shaggier and heavily built.

They were amiable creatures. Though I was fond of dogs in general. I put some more of my attention to keeping an eye on the inspection teams. They immediately split up with one going forward and up to the bridge and another aft and down to the engine room.

They soon got out of sight. Fortunately, I was able to ask the escort RP Flights and get patched into their communications channel. For its size, the Sunset Breeze had a small crew.

Though some of the anxiety was that the freighter might have a surplus of passengers.

Once the ship was secure and the freighter's crew was accounted for the centurion on the scene called in the second set of Spatha Lights and reinforcements were called in.

"If they were going to fight they would have already done it," VioletBlood noted. "Tried to shoot down the VTOLs before they could land troops."

"Maybe they think we won't be able to find whatever contraband the spooks think is on it," GreyDawn said.

"Maybe they're just innocent merchant sailors?" Visha said.

"It's always a possibility. This could all be some misunderstanding." I chuckled. I checked the channel the inspection teams were using and my mirth waned.

"Primus?" Visha asked, noticing my silence on the Flight channel.

"The freighter's full of anti-aircraft weapons. It wasn't even hidden all that well. Mostly Trosic kit. They haven't found any Ritual Plate so far, but so far there's enough missiles and parts to provide air defense for a brigade or a Legion."

GreyDawn gave a low whistle.

"That's a considerable investment on House Trosier," Visha noted.

"The Diluvians have fired a lot of Toulon missiles at us. No wonder they need more," VioletBlood stated. "I wonder what'll happen to all this hardware?" she mused.

"We'll likely have House Alecto confiscate them and sell them to House Crocelli."

GreyDawn chuckled. "Crocelli is hungry for arms and Alecto can offer them a great deal."

"While giving us a cut," VioletBlood murmured.

"Do we get prize money for seized goods?" Visha asked.

"It's complicated," I said. The tradition was more among the Household Fleet, but we had played a role. "We could qualify for shares of the sale price, but I wouldn't make any big purchases."

"You're saying you won't get a big slice for being the ones who got the freighter to change course?" VioletBlood asked.

"I'm merely a Ritual Plate pilot following orders. It was House Alecto with that mighty cruiser who provided the big guns," I stated. "Clearly they deserve the lion's share."

As my Flight gave a little chuckle. I checked with Quirinus. We were to keep providing support for the Sarpedona Ritual Plate escorting the inspection teams.

I felt my tension ease a bit. I worried that someone might have the ship rigged to blow up. Also my concerns that we might have run into withering anti-air fire was true... in a way.

Despite all that, the crew seemed to be docile enough. Which was understandable. House Alecto was close with their smaller neighbor House Paymon. It would require an inquest to determine what laws had been broken and the culpability of the crew.

And there was always a chance that House Alecto could repatriate them to House Paymon. Especially if the mercantile Great House wanted to make a deal with the Minor House. Alecto was very interested in keeping Paymon in their sphere of influence.

Suddenly, dozens of missiles launched several miles to the north out of an anonymous part of the sea. They skimmed over the waves and rapidly accelerated. Alarms began to sound. Markers came up onto my display and Flight Ops started giving out alerts.

VTOLs and Ritual Plate were already being routed to the launch site but the missiles were already in the air. Still, they might be able to drop charges on the enemy submarine.

"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. Set condition Zeta through the ship. Incoming, incoming. All pilots be advised, anti-missile systems are Weapons Free," came the overriding voice of the task force's commander before the comms channels devolved down into control by individual Flight Ops directors.

The Alecton Howe class missile cruiser and our Mulberry Fast Attack Craft were under attack. And per the alert's words, the counter-missile fire from the naval assets was going to prioritize saving their ships. Woe to any RP Pilot who got between launching an incoming missile and a weapon system trying to intercept it. The counter-missiles would try to avoid friendly fire and our comms and IFF was rather solid, but their concern was protecting the more expensive, and more populous, ship.

It seemed the Trosic Armada had at least one submarine, more likely two, shadowing the freighter and it objected to our actions.

"We have incoming enemy Ritual Plate," one of our Pilots who had been on anti-submarine patrol stated her voice calm and crisp. "Multiple squadrons of Baptiste strike RP escorted by Rochefort air superiority."

I took a moment to study the map display before we got our orders. The Trosic missiles were the first wave. The Ritual Plate was the follow-up wave. And about half of them were vectoring toward the Sunset Breeze.

I exhaled and put on a grin. "Squadron command, this is Diamond Flight, request permission to intercept."


End Chapter 14

The beach episode, and really the pilots have earned a bit of a break.
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
Special thanks to ScarletFox for the wonderful omake series that has some great character growth and covers much of this same R&R and beach relaxation.

I hope to have the next chapter of the mainline Return Story (ch5 of Book 6 Bonding Allure) out soon, I'm editing that as we speak.

There's also some wonderful fanart waiting in the wings.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

From ScittyKitty we've got some sketches of Tauria doing part of her getting dressed in her Polyxo Advanced Multi Role suit.

Fullsize​

And here's her working with the head of her Ritualista maintenance crew, Optio Suzette Gibbs.​

Fullsize​

And as a bit of a bonus this link goes to a pic by SaturnXart of Duchess SivlerFlight. And as a duchess complete with vast tracts of land.


There's a few more pieces together

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Better late than never. It's still incomplete but here's some of the top characters so far. This is still an in progress and I do plan to add more.



Main Cast:

Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust

In a previous life she was Tanya von Degurechaff. Now reborn as an orphaned demoness, she once again she finds herself as an aerial combatant mage for an imperialist power. As some consolation, Being X is no longer interfering with her life. This means she is free to define her own life and to pursue her own goals. Unfortunately... she's still Tanya.

Using her extensive experience, drive, and skills, Tauria tries to make the most of her life. She enlists in the House BlackSky's Imperial Legions as a Ritual Plate Pilot, using her magic to control and guide air spirits that drive an intricate suit of flight armor. Tauria is cynical and is looking for a comfortable position, one that mitigates the bloodshed caused by the "crazy demons" all around her. However, she's not quite aware that her emotional control and opacity is not as good as she thinks it is.

Her plan to enlist as young as possible, would mean several years of her 20 year term would be in a non-combat cadet posting hit a snag when she is pulled into having to save several people's lives and fight an enemy RP squadron, all with only a sword and some pyrotechnics.


Volantes Centurion Victorious Shadow aka "Visha"

From the same previous life as Tanya's, Visha found herself also reincarnated as a Diyu Demoness and became a Pilot. She tracked down Tauria and once again became her wingwoman. Bright and optimistic she is a capable Pilot and was able to keep up with Tanya in two lifetimes. As she knows some, but not all, of Tauria's secrets, she is close to her commanding officer.

Volantes Centurion Baroness VioletBlood aka "LoveBlood"

Only a year older than Tauria, VioletBlood would have been one of the most skilled Pilots of her age. However, she was in the same Cadet class as Tauria, which drover her to new heights of skill, and jealousy. That she is cable of keeping up with both Visha and Tauria, despite her age and lack of past life experience is a testament to her ability. Haughty and arrogant, the Baroness is an orphan and tries to uphold BlackSkyvian noble values. She is also under Tauria's command and before Visha showed up was the Countess' wingwoman. She is one for rivalries, as she had one with Tauria before the Countess was ennobled, and one with Visha before she and the latter came to an accord with regard to Tauria.


Other Imperial Legion associates:


Volantes Centurion GreyDawn

A career line Pilot, GreyDawn is dry-witted and the fourth member of Tauria's Flight. An experienced flier, she as assigned to help bring some advice and supervision to a Flight consisting of 2 very young noble Pilots and one relatively young commoner Pilot. Fairly easygoing, she shares a skill for gambling with Visha, and has grown to appreciate her new Flight Leader and her methods. In combat she is typically VioletBlood's wingwoman to help mentor her as well while overall she can use her experience to give Tauria recommendations.

Volantes Prefect Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus

Squadron Commander of 5th Squadron, Beta Wing of the 23rd Imperial Legion Air Group, and Tauria's superior officer. Before her posting to the 23rd, Quirinus was Tauria (and VioletBlood's) Cadet Instructor. An officer with considerable experience and honors, she has taught many young Pilots. When it was decided by the general staff (and with a recommendation from the imperial Family) that Tauria would be given an active duty posting early Quirinus made sure that both young noble pilots would be under her command. She sees great potential in them, especially Tauria, but feels that both Pilots need seasoning to keep them out of trouble, especially VioletBlood. A good cook, Quirinus has focused her life on being an Imperial Legion Ritual Pate Pilot both as a commander and improving the Pilot corps' capabilities.

Ritualista Optio Suzette Gibbs

The chief of Tauria's artificer maintenance team. Every Ritual Plate Pilot has a team of four to five Ritualista who help maintain, repair, refuel, rearm, enchant and genially service the very complicated and expensive components, enhancements that make up a Ritual Plate suit. It is Gibb's job to make sure Tauria's Mark 15, Gamma Block Power system, Polyxo Advanced Multi Role suit is kept in operating condition. Given the combat wear Tauria puts on it, Gibbs' work is cut out for her. Somewhat distant, Gibbs wonders if her superior will manage to survive her operational tempo, but will do her best to keep her suit up to spec.



Relatives:

Sister Clementia Lusria

A nun of the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady, a devotee of a faith that venerates DarkStar (a lost Granddaughter of Imperatrix BlackSky), Clementia is a kind woman who took it upon herself to raise Tauria, especially when no one seemed willing to adopt the orphaned little demon. She formally adopted Tauria as her daughter on Tauria's 12th birthday.

Volantes Tribune (Rorarii) Duchess SilverFlight

A reserve RP Pilot, the Duchess is a patron of the arts and many charities. In particular, she supports many widows and orphans funds and organizations, especially for those of lost Legion and Fleet personnel. She also supports many Ritual Plate endeavors. She has her own mercenary Squadron and helps develop and test several suit components. Another things she does is help find those with the fairly rare talent that allows someone to control a Ritual Plate suit and direct the Zephyr air spirits that act as the propulsion and maneuvering systems. It was she who discovered Tauria, loaned her her first trainer suit, and sponsored Tauria's early enrollment into the cadet program. Like Clementia, she adopted Tauria as a daughter after Tauria saved her life, defeated a Zioxan War Mistress, and made ace, all before her 12th birthday. Actions for which Tauria earned the Preserver Crown in addition to being adopted.



There's many more characters can be added.
But these seem to be the keymost ones and well... ones that I have headshots of.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Chapter 15 has one major scene written at 6 words.
But, it's the start of a month so have another part of the Battle of Chicago side story.

This one focuses on another succubus queen. Lara Raith the head of the White Court of Vampires and how she's dealing with a very bad night.

+++

I am a vampire queen. I am the power behind the throne of one of the most powerful supernatural nations.

We are masters of subtle manipulation and temptation. We give humans what they want, what they think they want. We are powerbrokers, dealers, and keepers of secrets. We know where the bodies are buried and the little levers to pull.

And I have ambitions.

I had a certainty of how the world worked. I could look down my nose at the poor kine who were ignorant of the supernatural. But the seeds of that hubris lay in how my kind raised our young. Vampires of the White Court tended to be raised as humans, ignorant of their family's true nature, ignorant of the Hunger inside them, ignorant of what will happen to their first loves. It was thought that the shock, the sudden realization would strengthen us. It's one of many views of my father's that I disagree with.

I am a monster but a polite monster. This means knowing the value of my word, of trust, of adhering to deals. And knowing when said value has become a sunk cost.

I overthrew my father, a true monster who ruled through means most unpleasant, even by incubus standards. I am working to advance my people. And have strengthened bonds with powers such as the Winter Fae Court. I am also one of the few to have come out on top after fencing with the wizard Dresden.

Dresden... Dresden is a force of nature. One who is easy, and tempting, to underestimate, but people who do that tend to end up dead or worse. The Wizard Dresden stated a war, then Mab the Queen of Air and Darkness got her claws into Dresden, and then Dresden destroyed the Red Court of Vampires

He Faked his death, came back, and then... then BlackSky got her claws into Dresden.

And Dresden was no longer human, no longer male.

The Wizard of Chicago had become the clumsiest succubus I have ever seen in my long life. Empty Night, if having to seduce a guard, because a supposed succubus Princess could not do the simplest of tasks and break our brother out of prison were the low points of this day, then it would still have ranked as one of the worst.

Father's first... well the ways he got control over me are still the worst days.

But I had to deal with my brother seemingly going mad and trying to assassinate the King of Svartalfheim. At the exact time where it came at the highest diplomatic cost. The Svartalves nearly beat him to death.

Dresden.... BlackStone. At first I was.... unimpressed. Oh yes, aesthetically BlackStone was a pretty enough thing. Exotic and inhuman. But she was still bumbling and clumsy.

What kind of seductress was awkward? How could she ensnare her friends like that? I had shook my head seeing her interacting with those close to her. Though I suppose, they were still supporting Dresden.

And the new "sisters" of Dresden acquired, did little to help raise my estimation. One was an arrogant, and crazed redhead with even less subtlety than Dresden. The other was quiet and sly and arranged deals with the likes of Vadderung.

Then came the rumors. About House BlackSky, About BlackSky herself, about their world. It all grew as these succubae, these Diyu demons, came into the open and started negotiating their way into the Unseelie Accords.

Their... diplomats were professional and skilled enough, but I got the sense of folks pretending to be Great Game-era imperialists. I remembered when the Winter and Summer Fae courts would dress up as World War 2 Soldiers and have dances and balls in spiffy uniforms they did not understand.

People playing at war. That is not to say that the Fae are not powerful warriors. They are among the strongest factions of the Unseelie Accords. And if rumors are true, then Winter has the largest standing army.

However, it is one thing to be a powerful supernatural force, it is another to have a military capable of something like Operation Overlord or Barbarossa.

There is a reason the White Court worked to influence and subvert humanity, instead of trying to directly confront the bucks and does.

Thus seeing these Great House demons in their gowns and brocaded, double-breasted uniforms strut about, as if they were 19th century European imperials plotting to divide up Western Asia, gave me... questions.

And since I had lived through that period of history, I was less than impressed. Also one House, Great or no, negotiating entry? Why not the whole of the Diyu powers? It was not like House Raith was an Accorded nation on its own power.

They had population and capable artificers, but the Fae had both of those, and the Svartalves were masters of the latter. And the demons were coming to us.

And also well... a petty part of me thought it was a poor sign that they thought Harry Dresden was worthy of being part of their imperial family of being a princess of all things.

Still, despite her flaws, Dresden had managed to concoct a rescue scheme that... amazingly worked. Of course it required I had to trust a clumsy demon with some ill-conceived hope of saving and protecting our brother.

And then the night got even worse. I would learn how bad things would get. But at that time I experienced magic and monsters at a level that made me feel like I was freshly exposed to the horror and powerlessness that came with seeing the supernatural world.

First, a massive hex destroyed all power, communications, and vehicles in the city, stranding us on the side of the road. At the moment all my power was reduced to one Vampire Queen, one incubus brother being killed by his own Hunger, and one redheaded Valkyrie mercenary.

Not nothing, but stranded in the middle of a city in a massive blackout?

And then things got worse.

+++


We split our time carrying Thomas. Freydis did not complain. The Valkyrie did not seem outwardly worried, but she was on alert.

We were hardly unique. There were plenty of other people with wounded compatriots. Some stayed by their cars others were trying to move them, especially the walking wounded. There had been a lot of car accidents when everything had gone wrong.

Right now the kine were lost and confused without their communications and lights. The fear would come later. As would the violence.

Not helping was when the hundreds of flashes emerged as the sky opened up and.... ships poured through. My stomach chilled when I remembered the words of another combative little redhead.

It seemed like Dresden's older sister was not so baselessly arrogant. Or at least that was the hopeful interpretation.

Worse would be if the grand air fleet that appeared over the city after a massive hex and then swam off into the darkness was not House BlackSky's. Yes, the hopeful view was that the ancient demonic empress had just summoned an invasion fleet.

Otherwise, it meant someone else was trying to invade Chicago this night.

It turns out it was BlackSky's fleet and another power was trying to invade.

Lovely.

This had really been a bad day. And it was going to get worse.

I'm not sure of our destination. We were heading roughly east. That was the direction of the nearest White Court cache. There would be personnel, supplies, and more at that location.

It was also the direction of the marina where the Clumsy Succubus wanted me to go to. Though if the hex was caused by the most likely faction to betray all of us, then getting on the water would be near suicide.

Again... if the hex was House BlackSky's doing... well it showed how bad things were that I hoped that air fleet was in reaction to the hex and... not something worse.

Those ships, airships of all things, disgorging whatever troops they carried and striking against the Accorded Nations would be bad. And bad for the people of this city. Right now, the city's defenses were limited.

I wondered what was happening at Marcone's castle. How were all the representatives of the Accorded Nations reacting to this? Did they have time to react?

I took comfort in that if this were some sort of demonic coup that I would not be left out in the middle of nowhere. No, some hit team would be coming for me.

And that's when I heard the soft rustle of membranous wings cutting through air.

Thomas was put to the ground as quickly and gently as possible as I went nearly back to back with Freydis. She had pulled out a compact little rifle that had been slung under her light jacket.

At least Justine was out of this. I had put my people to protect her, and Dresden probably did as well, but...

Hooves and boots hit pavement. Most were the muted sounds of graceful predators. There was the slight rattle of gear. I looked around and saw helmeted, armored figures landing, their hands on rifles with slings that linked to their front harnesses.

Horns poked out of matte helmets. Tails and wings swished behind them. Even in the less than figure-flattering grey and darker grey armor, they were all alluring and lovely women.

Except... one of them didn't wear quite the same armor. Hers was a glossy blue and a long coat trailed behind her. She also bore no helm and... most reassuring she landed and had to take a jerky half step forward to avoid face-planting.

"Dresden what the hell is going on?" I snarled as she wobbled around on those ridiculous hooves.

"It's not my fault!" BlackStone whined.

I grossed my arms. "Explain. Quickly."

"Perhaps we should first look at your wounded sibling." A pale-green eyed woman landed with utter grace and silence behind Dresden. She had fine pink hair that looked oddly dull in the dark night and wore a dark green set of armor. She had a rather large handgun holstered that looked more plain than the slightly more baroque and brass-fitted weapons the others carried. "And stop saying things that make you look worse." She slapped Dresden on the back of the head.

Ah, BloodMist, the demonic.... mother to BlackStone.

"An explanation would help," I stated as one of the demonic soldiers slung her rifle and approached, gloved hands raised.

She had primly-cut, fine lavender hair, curled horns that might have been a bit bigger than her comrades', and an inquisitive face. The gear packs around her hips and lower back were also a bit larger than on her compatriots. I supposed people with wings couldn't wear backpacks. "I am medic," she said in oddly accented English.

I nodded to Freydis to let her approach.

Kneeling down, the lithe succubus hissed as she murmured and held a hand over his wounds. "His... Hunger? Is killing?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Yes, we know."

The medic nodded and took out a little pouch and a syringe. There was a softly shimmering red liquid to it. She quickly injected it. "Painkiller and energy. Feed."

"That's not going to save him."

"Buy time. Maybe." She frowned and busied herself. "Princess BlackStone, consent did he?"

I gave a sharp exhale. "Dresden. Don't make me ask you thrice."

Dresden was working for me; Mab had transferred the favors she owed me to her Knight. Perhaps spending one on getting my brother out of Marcone's custodianship in his castle was not the wisest way to spend it, given the Clumsy Succubus had her own plans, but my brother was out. The question was if he would stay my brother.

The Winter succubus shivered. "I didn't mean... er.... Look. The Fomor are attacking, King Corb went into the castle and broke guest-right. He killed a bunch of Marcone's people. His own goons got their necks snapped. He also brought his Mistress: Ethniu, the Last Titan. She was the one who hexed the whole city with a magical superweapon in her eye socket before stomping off."

After taking a moment to process her rambling, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Wonderful.

I noticed the four soldier-demons other than the medic had shifted and their guns were now facing out as they edged forward and took defensive positions.

"I saw the fleet," I stated.

"Marcone and Mab were gathering all the support they could. Your man, Riley sent a runner and is activating all of your forces. He can't commit them to battle without your countersign but he can get them ready and move them."

I nodded. Good help was worth their weight in gold. "Where is he? At the castle or making for one of our facilities in the city?"

"Last I saw he was getting on a demon dropship thingy," BlackStone said, earning another smack from her mother.

"Riley asked if we could arrange for transport to your Chateaux," BloodMist explained.

"Ah, I thank you for your assistance," I glanced up into the sky. I could see a few dark shapes buzzing about and there was a throbbing sound.

"So, that fleet was your contribution to the Winter Queen and Marcone?" I asked while the medic pulled out a few tins of salves and other injections. There was even a bracelet made of stones she put around his wrist.

She worked with a quiet professionalism and a degree of worry. Which I supposed was fitting. From what I knew of the sprawling imperial family, while Dresden might be the youngest daughter of the youngest daughter, letting a Princess' brother die would... not be great for the medics' future career.

"The fleet is mostly there to transport and protect Corpus Incursio Reliance," BloodMist said.

"Six Legions," Dresden added.

"Fortuitous for you to have such a force already aboard troopships and to have them within range," I dryly noted.

BloodMist snorted. "Did you honestly expect the Fomor to deal in good faith? We arranged insurance."

"Better to have it and not need it," I tried to keep my tone light. This... the demons had expected the Fomor to betray them, and their "insurance" was reading half a dozen Legions, plus whatever else those airships carried.

"Were you ever in scouting, Lady Raith? Pardon me for not knowing if that was a thing on this world when you were a child," the Empress's youngest daughter stated.

"And on the off chance Corb aurally agreed to a full ceasefire, or didn't even declare war your fleet could have stayed hidden where it was," I surmised to the demon giving a slight head nod. "And what's this about consent? Was this your plan all along Dresden? Turn my brother, make him a succubus like you. Did you think that would keep the Accorded Nations from tracking him?"

I kept most of the venom out of my voice. Abstractly, it had a certain logic. And it was a suspicion I had ever since we found out what the Svartalves had done to Thomas. The change apparently healed as a side effect of rebuilding someone's body into a demon succubus. And as Dresden, with shocking unsubtly for her, showed she could use thaumaturgy to track us down with trivial ease.

But if Thomas were.... a female demon. Then that would change her.

"Not without his consent," BloodMist stated, her tone icy.

"He's dying."

"Not without his consent," she repeated a flash to her eyes. "If you knew anything of us you'd know how much of a violation that would be."

Dresden gave an exhale and her tail drooped.

"If he would rather die an incubus than live as one of us then we will honor that."

"I've... I've got a way to get us more time," BlackStone said. "We might not need to turn him."

BloodMist glared at the both of us. I did not disagree with her. Well, the whole focus on consent was not exactly how the White Court worked, but in this specific case I was torn. If Thomas were turned into one of them, in many ways he... she would be even more distant. But if that were the only option? But... what did he want?

"Your grace, Lady, Princess, I could probably awaken him. The right stimulant would do it. It would be painful but his constitution..." The lithe demon medic idly adjusted her tools. "I do not recommend doing it more than once. But... he'd probably be able to answer you."

Any immediate response was cut off by the sound of throbbing... well engines was the best word. There was certainly a downwash as an aircraft swooped down at rapid speed with a bone-jarring deceleration before it came to a hover above the street.

Detritus and litter blew away and we had the full attention of the various humans who were still in shock from the massive blackout.

It was a few yards away and the soldier-succubae moved to protect it and us as the back ramp and side doors opened. Above in the sky figures in heavy-armored.... suits that had slight tracery and more of that wind-whipping throb circled around.

The craft was a dark grey that had hints of red. It reminded me a bit of a helicopter or maybe a vertical takeoff and landing craft. What with the sliding side doors and back ramp. But instead of rotors it had a pair of stubby wings that each ended in a rotating pod that sucked air through and did other complicated manipulations.

Everything thrummed with arcane energy.

"Riley took one of those?" I inquired as a succubus in something that looked a lot like a flight suit jumped off the back ramp. She was carrying a stretcher and went right up to my brother and started helping the medic move him over and strap him down.

Freydis cocked her head and gestured. I followed where she was pointing with her gun. The humans had been shocked by the arrival of the demonic soldiers and the dropship or whatever it was had not helped but they were getting more... interested.

Which was fair, it was dark out and I'm sure many were ignoring the extra demonic bits and instead saw soldiers and a rescue crew with a working aircraft. Something that they had not seen since that Titan's hex.

Damn. Between the Fomor's incipient attack and BlackSkyvians and all the other Accorded Nations, including my own, counter attacking. All in the middle of a major city.

The fallout from this...

I shook my head. The aircraft was small, it looked like it would just barely fit the ten of us, not counting the succubus who was now helping the medic lift Thomas up. "I accept your offer of transport."

BloodMist blinked as we all made our way to the howling craft. The soldiers were still guarding our perimeter while the airborne suits did their thing. "Lady Raith, the Spatha is just going to get us up to the Patrol Carrier, we'll be taking that to my daughter's destination."


+++


The flight up was as smooth as could be expected. Given that the pilot, who once we were strapped in and the doors were halfway closed, decided to act as if the Fomor had access to anti-air missiles.

Though given how secretive those foggy monsters were, and how advanced their bio-sculpting was, maybe they had some sort of flying mollusk that exploded on impact. I had no room to begrudge the demons their paranoia.

I had put the White Court on high alert and brought in more of my sisters, and other members of the Blood, and had my household guard equipped and ready with Riley the head of my mortal forces having readied equipment and fallback plans.

I thought I was prepared for treachery. It turns out Dresden, the most awkward succubus princess, had me beat. In addition to doing work for the Queen of Winter and thus working for me, the Wizardess of Chicago had been preparing for a demonic invasion.

I was in an ill-fitting pull-down seat near the front which gave me a view of my brother's stretcher that had been strapped down in the center-line of the small cabin.

The lights were a dim red color. I suspected it was to protect night vision, though given how well they could see in the dark... maybe it was to make the Spatha Light VTOL give off less light. The conditions were cramped in with the ten of us in back.

To my left, the Load Mistress, which was what the cargo handler was called, had moved up near the cockpit and sat on a jump seat to one side behind the pilot. She spoke in a clipped professional voice.

My Latin was not as good as my Etruscan, but it was handy to be able to speak the language of the White Council of Wizards. The demons spoke a different dialect and had a more flowing cadence but it was understandable, save for the occasional technical term, and loanword from some other language.

I took some amusement that the cocksure attitude and careful speaking patterns of pilots seemed universal

The pilot's controls and instruments were an interesting mix of switches, leather-wrapped yokes, brass gauges, orange glowing nixie tubes, and fully holographic displays in the center of the gauge cluster that also overlaid much of the canopy.

I had seen such magic in the Svartalven embassy, and the aides to BlackSky were using similar displays. Though it was one thing to have a capability on a personal device, that a caster could presumably refresh, it was another to have something rugged enough to serve as flight displays for a combat aircraft.

My atavistic tendencies grew with naked want at the temptation before me. Not of the succubae, but this whole aircraft system. Well, the succubae too. The soldiers in the back compartment had a variety of skin, hair, and eye colors and ranged from whipcord lithe to broadly strong, to compact and aggressive. They had a constrained anger as if they were offended by the presumption of the Fomor to dare attack a city under the aegis of one of their Princesses.

They had a sharp allure to them and were more reserved than Dresden. At least the peace talks, Empty Night what a farce those ended up being, helped it exposed me to even more succubae. It was one thing to see Dresden and her crazy sister, it was another to see their empress and daughters.

I gave a slight nod to BloodMist. Yes, their magic... their technology was alluring, but so were the succubae themselves. I cursed a bit for Etri getting closer with House BlackSky. His people's interests and desires would find these demons very appealing.

The aircraft started to buffet a bit as the turbulence increased. I turned back to the front canopy and saw a dark shape suddenly appear in the leaden night sky ahead of it.

It was a rigid-hulled airship. It had a single set of horizontal tail fins, but twinned ventral and dorsal vertical fins. Ahead of the fins were propulsion pods that extended a bit beyond the massive craft's envelope.

We were now on a direct path for the rear of the airship. It had a long gondola that ran the length of the frame. At the very end, forward and between those downward-pointing tailfins was a large door that retracted up into the airship.

Based on the display, the aircraft we were on was following a track to intercept with the airship. As we approached, there was a thrum of magical power and the turbulence faded. Maybe the spirits that were pushing the Spatha got into some kind of harmony with those pushing the airship.

Either way, we slipped into the aft bay door. I might have clenched my hands as our aircraft slipped between the giant airship tailfins. It looked like I could reach out and touch the material.

And then the Spatha's propulsion pods rotated forward and acted as reversers cutting out thrust. It turned out to be less of a tight fit than I feared. I mean... there were whole meters of clearance on either side left to right.

Still... the aircraft's landing gears hit the decking and I saw a bunch of air crew scurrying around attaching cables and mounting clips to secure the aircraft as the door behind us rolled back down. The pilot powered down the Spatha, and even I could feel the spirits in the aircraft being lulled back to sleep.

She gave some banter in Latin thanking us for flying Home Fleet Lines and reminded us to check out the duty free shop in the terminal.

Shaking my head, I stood up and watched as the Spatha's side and rear doors opened. the airship moved, reminding me a bit of being on the ocean but with smoother longer frequency motions

First up were a pair of medics. They weren't wearing the battle rattle of our lavender-haired friend, instead they had some type of body-hugging jumpsuit that had reinforcements on the knees and elbows and a few cuffs and pockets and loops for holding tools and the like.

I nodded as they checked over Thomas and helped move his stretcher off the dropship.

I followed and despite it all, suppressed a little smile. Naturally, BlackStone was a bit clumsy as she tried to walk given the airship's gentle roll. But more than any other time she was trying to act graceful. I noticed BloodMist's amusement. Ah, Dresden was trying to impress her mother

"Welcome to the Kolibri class Patrol Carrier HFV Kestrel, Lady Raith," BloodMist said as the half-squad of soldiers walked past us.

"Let me guess, you're going to take him to sick bay?" I asked, taking in the smell of machine oil and... incense. There was also grease and various other chemicals. Though, the whole bay was brightly lit and had white and grey paint as well as the expected black and yellow hazard stripes. That bit of familiarity struck out to me

BloodMist nodded as the medics loaded Thomas' stretcher into a type of open freight elevator that lifted up into the deck above us. Honestly, I was reluctant to let him out of my sight, the Daughter of BlackSky had plans.

And I doubted she would betray me, not over this.

There were various docking cleats that could be folded up from the deck, which bore a few scratches and a lot of tire scuffs. Off to the sides were various carts that did all sorts of presumably maintenance tasks. A couple had been wheeled over to the drop ship and were doing some sort of servicing. There were equipment lockers and tool chests and other parts of kit. Everything was locked down and secured.

Which was sensible on an airship. Still it was... interesting to see the shipboard crew doing their jobs. It was almost easy to forget that they were all perky little demons.

BloodMist shook her head. "Yes, but the facilities are compact and limited; this ship only has a complement of 150 or so. Normally weight is the issue for airships and we can go with more space, but even that's limited on these little craft," she explained as she led us away from the Spatha, which had actually landed a good twenty meters inside the airship.

Which left a good amount of space behind it for something else to land using that rear door.

I looked around. We were going past a bit of a bulkhead wall that seemed to strengthen this part of the gondola and maybe give some fireproofing between the compartments.

This whole lower deck was a good thirteen meters by not quite a hundred meters. And then I saw what was in the forward compartment.

The incense scent was stronger. There was still the smell of machine oil, lubricants and something akin to the sharp, almost sulfurous, tang of hot metal.

Immediately forward of the bulkhead were a set of benches, equipment tie downs, lockers and weapon racks that seemed to be a staging area for an infantry squad or so.

But beyond that....

There were several sturdy... not quite chairs that had been bolted to the deck. Consisting of heavy adjustable armatures, runes were inscribed on each one. Several very rugged looking concentric magic circles surrounded each seat. Around those was a grouping of tool chests, crates, lockers, and racks of parts and plating.

I was closer and saw that while there were a lot of mundane metal-working tools, the swarming maintenance staff had a variety of what could only be called implements.

Various crystals, wands, anathema blades, and other blatantly magical tools were used alongside, often in conjunction with grinders and engravers.

What they were working on.... well many of the "chairs" were empty. And some had staff busying and organizing; others were empty and did not even have staff. Maybe they were somewhere off getting food.

But the heavy duty seats that were occupied held something like a suit of armor. Breathtakingly complicated sections of plate armor were fastened together. Each plate consisted of several layers, and the inner ones seemed to be covered in engravings.

Though even the outer layers had some engravings and many glowed with light. Most of the suits were occupied, with succubae shorn of their metal masks and helmets chatting with their staff. A few were grabbing a quick snack and hydrating.

I knew the language, but their terminology was extremely specialized. It was like listening to some combination of pilot and wizard chatting with some of Etri's crafters.

It was like looking at a race team and their pit crew. Or.... as I looked around, like a fighter pilot and her maintenance team.

These were the suits that had been flying over-watch when BlackStone had... rescued us, and closer-up I could see variations.

Not the minor details of engraving or filigree or even the painted on accents. But some suits were all stark lines and swept features and even when tied down looked to be cutting through the air. While others were built more pugnacious and aggressive. Something with the air of a brawler.

Marching forward down the long gondola, these stations were two to a row. By my count there were twenty of these stations. Though two seemed to be unused and were probably spares.

BloodMist had described this craft as a Patrol Carrier. I suppose this was the demons' equivalent of combat aircraft. The room thrummed with martial power. And I could feel the air buzzing. It was like the propulsion pods of that dropship but even more focused.

Magic suits with enchantments, pilots who were Practitioners of some kind, and bonded spirits for speed and propulsion. There were also a handful of larger heavy duty containers that from their bulk had to be ordnance magazines. They probably held weapons, fuel, and other high density things that those suits used. I wondered if they had armored trapdoors so in the event of a fire they could simply be jettisoned.

Glancing around the sprayers, hoses, water pipes, lockers of masks and hoods, and other bits of firefighting equipment were obvious. Intentionally so, complete with more painted stripes in hazard colors.

Freydis' covetous look was even more blatant. Especially whenever we passed a seat that was occupied. Though by the numbers half were empty. Presumably, they were outside flying.

That was confirmed when a couple flew in via person-sized doors, port and starboard that were about halfway down the compartment. They were angled to face aft ward on an oblique. Meanwhile at the far forward end of the compartment was some sort of chamber that would launch these armored demon flight suits off the airship and into the sky.

"They're called Ritual Plate," BloodMist stated.

"Oh?" I studied the suits. "Sort of a term of art?" Each suit had to have dozens of different spells and enchantments in all sorts of systems. Off the top of my head, I could guess there were collections of spells for propulsion, weapons, defenses, sensors, communications. Empty Night, there was probably a whole set of life support to give pressure and oxygen, depending on how high and fast these things went.

And all of those required maintenance or at least empowering. One thing I learned about magic was that you did not get results for free, and it required a lot of work. Even the Fae had limitations and costs for their creations.

And the craft of these demons looked well... there was an aesthetic elegance that came from the necessity of weight savings and being well-fitted to the succubus form, not to mention artisan flourishes. But these suits had a uniformity in parts and design that implied mass production and a ruggedness that indicated they were expected to get used in combat and have parts replaced.

It was not the solid ruggedness of an armored vehicle, more of a fighter jet, or for some of the more brawler-like suits an attack helicopter.

I pushed back a heady mix of anxiety and wonder. I suppose this was what mortals felt when they first saw the supernatural.

BloodMist gave me a sly smile. "Less than 'tank' being used for a class of armored fighting vehicle."

I nodded. "And their roles? I note several different types."

"I suppose you could guess the roles they can fit and those they cannot," BloodMist said as we waited at the bottom of a steep set of stairs made out of skeletal spars and perforated plate. Of course they would save weight wherever they could.

I snorted. "They would make poor troop, vehicle, or cargo transports. Unless you had a very small, very select bit of cargo, or..." I pondered. "One delivered some sort of teleport beacon, or a means to cut a Way into the Nevernever."

BlackStone looked a bit nervous while BloodMist gave me a thin smile. "Perhaps. Still you can guess the main roles are such things as air superiority, interceptor, strike, ground support, all with recon sub-variants. Not to mention dedicated sensor and scrying suits."

Nodding, I continued to study the suits. This many suits, in a mere patrol carrier... The things I could do with just a dozen of them. "This should give an advantage against the Fomor," I allowed. "They are probably lacking in air power."

"A dangerous assumption to make," BloodMist said as she went up the stairs.

"Still having nearly twenty of these suits will be useful, plus any other patrol carriers, and... larger craft," I allowed, following up behind her.

BlackStone made a choking noise while her mother chuckled.

We were up in a corridor that went aft to forward. It seemed a bit narrow but could at least fit two people passing each other if just. And there were more succubae in their little ship-suits, and a handful more in Legionary Armor.

"Yes, the Kolibri in Patrol Carrier configuration can carry 2 light Squadrons. That allows for some power projection. But well..."

"We brought the Valhalla," BlackStone said as we made our way forward.

BloodMist flashed a toothy smile as we passed a couple open doors that went into bunk rooms. They had a lot of beds stacked in levels four tall, but at least the beds themselves seemed wide, and there was a lot of storage.

"An evocative name," I calmly stated.

"All of the Avalon Class Heavy carriers have names like that." BloodMist shrugged. "The Valhalla has an RP Air Group. That's four Wings. Each Wing has 8 squadrons. That is a full squadron, of 12 pilots."

I did the math, that was nearly four hundred Ritual Plate. Lovely. Their assistance would make a difference. I had my suspicions that the Valhalla was only the start, but Legions with air cover would be a great help. Again, I wondered how much air power the Fomor had. Did they even know about air defense doctrine? How many supernatural powers did?

Though nothing was free. Not with geopolitics. And more and more it was becoming obvious that House BlackSky was not playing at being a great game imperialist power, they really were a nation state.

"And other Kolibri configurations?" I asked, the smell of fresh baked bread and stew tickling at my nose. Looking to the left though a large doorway, I saw a... cozy mess hall. It could seat maybe sixty people at half a dozen long tables. The tables were mostly empty, but the kitchen staff were busy organizing and cooking.

BloodMist gave an indulgent smile while BlackStone's stomach grumbled. "Oh yes, the Kolibri Patrol is a flexible platform. The Spatha and one of the light RP squadrons can be swapped out for various things.

"Such as a century of troops and an artillery system, a troop of scout vehicles, 2 Spatha and twenty troops, a supply of cargo, fuel, and munitions, or, in a more involved changeover such as adding launch tubes, converted into a corvette with 8 aerial Torpedoes."

I nodded along. So even non-carriers have a minimum of nine Ritual Plate. That takes up a fair footprint on a ship this size, that means they're needed as a defensive measure.

So, these airships have an acute vulnerability. Otherwise House BlackSky wouldn't give each ship such a defensive force. Not just in terms of the space on each airship, but in the expense in equipment and manpower. I was not sure how to take advantage of that weakness, but that they had it was reassuring.

"Naturally, the cargo configuration is the most common," BlackSky continued while BlackStone looked into the mess hall.

"How common?" I inquired.

"Well among Kolibri, the cargo version is about a third, but that's not a fair count as many forces, especially corvettes, use larger cargo ships.

"Of course. So, overall?"

"Overall in the Household Fleet, it's about half the hulls are various cargo and supply. Especially if you focus on larger hulls," BloodMist's tone was mild.

I nodded, trying to be calm. That was... a strong logistics capability. Having half of their airships be cargo ships was a very expensive investment, and reduced the number of hulls that could carry weapons or troops.

But that showed that House BlackSky... used these airships. And was serious about having them deployed and supported. "Maybe we should get something to eat? Or at least have some food sent over to poor BlackStone?" I asked while pondering.

Dresden pouted and tried to look mature in front of her mother. It was adorable.

BloodMist quickly relented and led us into the mess hall. "And are you hungry Lady Raith, Miss Gard?"

Freydis gave a slight shrug but her expression was hungry.

"Redheads," BloodMist chuckled.

"She does remind me a bit of a certain DarkStar," I ventured.

BloodMist eyed me and resumed her chuckle. "Perhaps," she allowed. "This one is spirited."

As we went to the head of the non-existent line, I looked over how all the tables and benches were secured to the deck. Even the condiment holders and utensils had compartments and locking trays. The presence of garum surprised me a bit more than it should have.

I also did some rough mental math on just how big an Avalon Heavy Carrier such as the Valhalla somewhere over the city would have to be. It had over twenty times the Ritual Plate as this Patrol Carrier.

Assume the same ratio of support equipment and crew... there's probably some efficiency of scale, but on the other hand a larger carrier may have more ancillary equipment or protection. Like more VTOLS or Torpedoes. Which I'm not sure if that means waterborne weapons or is some generic term for a large air-launched munition or both

So a 20 times heavier airship. But weight scales with the cube so... like over three times longer, wider, and taller.

Which for rough numbers... call this patrol ship 150 meters long meant anywhere from 500 meters to 600 meters, at least half a kilometer.

"Are you eating enough?" BloodMist asked her daughter.

That size was... mind-boggling, but only a rough number, as not all the airships I saw earlier were the roughly cigar shape that this one was. Quite a few seemed to be made out of clusters of two or three airframes.

"Yes, Mother," BlackStone whined to my delight.

Either way, immense ships. And ships that big were targets. Again I went back to what sort of defensive systems they had. With their level of magic some kind of ward seemed possible. But on that scale...

I shook my head and absently picked out some quarter-meter long loaf of wheat bread filled with cheese and sausage and a pickled sauce that had a hint of nutmeg. There was a whole basket of the savory things that seemed to be some kind of portable meal.

BlackStone, at her mother's prompting, took two and put in her pocket a string of dried sausages and a foiled packet of biscuits that smelled of molasses and cinnamon. Seeing Freydis take some of those as well, I made a note to take one of hers.

"Lovely," I complimented the cooks who were more of the perky ship-board succubae. Though, a couple were a bit taller, and even the more lanky ones still had muscles. They also seemed cuter, or at least less lean in the face, than the others. I wondered if that was a side effect of their duties.

I chewed thoughtfully as we got out of the mess hall. The sandwich, more of a wheat baguette with filling, was pretty decadent. The fresh bread, I guess they had a bakery up here, and the preserved meats and sauces and vegetables were a great blend. There was a bit extra to it; all in all not as good as sex, but could be a substitute. Well, for a human, not one of my kind. Still, it was rather filling and gave a bit of extra pep.

"Is all the food this good?" Freydis asked as she bit into one of the biscuits with obvious relish and happy murmur. I had to take one of hers; if a Valkyrie found a baked good that was delicious it was worth a try.

"Or is this a special meal before battle?" she asked.

I nodded as I thought. Freydis came from a warrior culture and one that valued feasting.

If House BlackSky had an airship that large for a carrier then they could make a troopship that large. Which could hold two or three thousand people. A few of those could move a legion of troops. Though if they have heavy equipment, artillery, tanks and mountains of supplies then it would require more ships.

"Feeding is a critical part of our logistics. It would be very bad for a succubus to go hungry," BloodMist smiled at me.

Ah, more reason why logistics was so important. Empty Night, it was challenging enough to feed representatives at the other White Court Houses when they came to the Chateaux for major events.

Feeding thousands of succubae, for an extended combat deployment? I wondered what would happen to Chicago after the battle....

If the Avalon Class was possible, then these demons could move a Legion in a flotilla, fleet, or whatever collection of ships. With... a lot of cargo ships to keep them fed.

Which was in line with the amount of large craft and their escorts I saw. That was an extreme mobility and the capability of deploying troops anywhere in force was powerful. And this demonic nation picked Dresden to make a princess?

I shook my head.

We returned to the long corridor with its brightly painted walls, railings, ductwork and conduits mostly concealed behind panels.

The door across from the mess was closed, but had a simple plate in Latin that translated to something like: Recreation, though with some connotations of brothel.

That was not proof of anything. The name-plate by the galley called it a Ganeum. Which was either a joke or a shift in meanings, as a Ganeum in ancient Rome was their version of a greasy spoon dinner. And they got a reputation for attracting prostitutes.

"We are succubae," BloodMist said, after noticing my pondering.

"Oh, is that what that room is for? How does that work?" I asked, wondering if I had just reveled to her that I knew Latin. On the one hand the words had similar roots to English terms, on the other BloodMist might have just presumed I spoke Latin.

"If you are still hungry, we can arrange something." BloodMist tilted her head. "But we might not have time."

"Time?"

"We're changing course. Come," BloodMist stated.

I hung by the door for a moment. Was it a rota system? Did they have dedicated prostitutes as part of the crew? Humans that were fed on? Surely, that would not be enough to keep them supplied. I had not seen any humans since we boarded. Or was it simply just a recreation center for sexual release?

With a slight bit of reluctance, I followed. This would not be the only mystery to me aboard this ship. For one I did not know what they used to power their propulsion and other systems. There was the slight buzz of some sort of process and there were lots of overlapping bits of excess magic about. I glanced over to Dresden.

But her nervous, awed expression, she was doubtless feeling all sorts of things.

++++


The... briefing room, command and control room, or whatever, was off-putting.

It was less the captain of the ship in her gold and white uniform who watched me with deep purple eyes. With light red skin, she was short and had a controlled, haughty aggressiveness. Her sharp features were lovely and her pale blue hair was braided back and complimented her white horns and tail.

If not for the order of a daughter of her Empress, she would not have let me in here, and maybe not even onboard her ship.

But that was just one discomfort, the room's decor was... upsetting.

Oh, there was nothing garish or macabre. No bodies having from chains, or war trophies or any other signs of indulgent bellicosity.

Now, there were a few items in the room that were shrouded with grey sheets. Though from the outlines they gave I was reminded of things more like spherical astrolabes, sextants, or other bits of baroque finery. The artificer machinery that was unshrouded in the compartment was tantalizing enough. Most of the items were put up against the walls, though there was a large five-sized table in the center of the room.

But the walls....

They were tiled. From the stark, if comfortable utility of the rest of the airship that alone was noteworthy.

The tiles consisted of just two rhombuses: a fat one in jade and a thin one in an alabaster marble. However, each rhombus was inscribed in a silver arch that went from one side to a neighboring side, and a and a gold arch that connected the two opposite sides.

The gold and silver lines linked up with the next rhombus over. The pattern was a collection of five pointed stars and arcs and circles that somehow did not ever repeat.

This formed a collection of shining silver and gold loops and whorls among stars of jade and whorls and arches of alabaster. The whole, interlocking mosaic was beautiful but also disquieting. The silver and gold lines never branched, never terminated, save for when a door or something was cut into one of the room's five walls.

Perhaps the shape of the compartment itself was contoured. The pentagonal room had five walls and the ceiling vaulted up in five curved triangular sections. The tiling seemed... the most... regular from the middle of the ceiling where an orb-like light stood at the very apex and center of the ceiling. Surrounding us in something like a pentagonal dome of jade and marble, silver and gold

The orb itself was odd as within it was a crystalline structure that reflected and emitted light in odd rings of five and ten points of light. Its light was bright but also a shade too far into the red. To be entirely comfortable.

It was also... challenging to see the pattern go out as it filled the ceilings and then went down the walls, which I noticed were not quite straight vertical or flat planes. The rhombuses might have slightly changed their sizes. Or that might have been a trick. I did not look too closely, not after when I entered and peered at the silver and gold inlay and realized that each line was less a solid line and more a chain of interlocking runes.

It was another example of something magical made.... mundane. The worst part was that if this ship had a room like this, that meant that these rooms were commonplace among the ships of the demonic empire's fleet.

At least it was easy to not look at the floor. Beneath a clear polymer was a similar pattern of rhombuses with their silver and gold inlay.

Freydis seemed immune to the issue. The five of us, including a tall aide to the captain, had crammed into the chamber around the central table. The Valkyrie was more focused on what was being shown to us.

Though BlackStone at least had some disquiet about her, though it was mixed by a barely-restrained urge to kneel down and study everything in the room. I was not sure if I should take comfort or worry in the wizard feeling ill-at-ease but also tempted.

The display itself, well... I was starting to get used to the illusionary holographic magic the demons had. The Svartalves had a similar capability. And the display over the table was deliberately simplistic.

It was a map of the city. Buildings and other terrain features were done in simple grey-green blocks that roughed out footprint and size.

The Formor were invading.

I did not need a key to know what the sickly yellow markers coming up from Lake Michigan meant.

"I suppose King Corb and his Master lied when they gave us several hours, you can never trust Titans," I noted.

The captain, Principales Zariah Magnus Schechter, eyed me; there was some mirth there. "Perhaps. We may have sped up their time tables, or they may intend to sally at midnight."

"We will show them their folly," BloodMist stated and nodded to the airship captain.

"Not us, not at the moment," Schechter admitted and motioned to her tall, black-haired aide.

The younger succubus moved her hands and the display shifted. Purple dots and symbols started to populate it. My eye went to a cluster of airships to the north of the Fomor landing zones.

That was us. This ship was the Patrol Carrier HFV Kestrel. Also with us was the Torpedo Corvette HFV Orchid with its eight Torpedoes.

BloodMist had been coy about exactly when those munitions could do, but I could do the math. Something that was equivalent to the weight of an eighth of a legionary century with a supporting artillery piece had to weigh several tons and this have a fair bit of capability.

And I doubted they only had one kind of warhead. Especially on vessels like the DarkStar. Which depending on how big it was... could have at least a hundred of the things. No wonder these demons also had a lot of cargo ships with them: reloads.

Again, I hated the feeling of surprise and shock. It was one thing to face one invading supernatural army. But now we were facing two.

I was a bit curious why there was no cargo ship with our little formation. Perhaps it was hanging back.

Instead our third airship was the Venture Scout HFV Juliet. A third the size of the Kestrel, from what BloodMist had said, it made this ship practically palatial. The Juliet existed as a reasonably high speed, and inexpensive platform for six Ritual Plate Pilots. They were outriders and screening assets for their Fleet.

That did explain why we were going by airship instead of taking a group of VTOLs. We were still going faster than by boat, and with this we had a larger force, and would not be limited by fuel if things went wrong.

Still, I was certain that the Juliet had other sensors, or scrying capabilities. And well... a small airship that had an endurance measured in weeks, could do more than fleet scouting and screening.

That made up our force. Altogether BloodMist had a bit over thirty Ritual Plate pilots, eight Torpedoes, one small Spatha VTOL, a few squads of Legionaries, whatever other weapons I was not privy to, and my own resources.

And we were taking a detour to avoid the Fomor Landings.

At least I had gotten a chance to, via various means, talk to Riley and give orders to him and to my sisters. The White Court would be ready. There were still things I could contribute to this.

Further, inland were more purple symbols. Many much larger than ours. Though all surrounded by a constellation of various escorts and screening figures. If my estimation was right, there was a group up to the north-west a bit past where O'Hare International Airport was.

It made sense, no matter the escorts, no matter the number of Ritual Plate, no matter what other protections these ships had.... they were still airships. They were fragile.

If the Fomor were attacking from Lake Michigan and as they had released a giant hex to disable mortal power systems.. then the demons would keep their troopships away from the enemy. Not too far, the more distance the more time it would take their dropships to make the round trip, but being able to hold their vulnerable troopships back was why they had dropships.

Even the Valhalla and the DarkStar were not over the city. Which made sense, if their main offensive weapons were Ritual Plate and a kind of enchanted long range stand-off missile...

I shook my head. All these precautions when White Court Intelligence was pretty sure that the Fomor had next to no air capability. Then again, said Intelligence also missed out on Ethniu and only heard rumblings that Corb was going to make a small strike later on in the Peace Talks. That was partially why I was willing to spend tonight rescuing my brother.

Not to mention their estimations on House BlackSky's capabilities.

I could not fault the demon's caution. If Corb had a way to take down one of their ships, he would. And if it were over the city... I did not want to think of the damage a half-kilometer long warship full of who-knows-what explosives, alchemical fuels, and magical energies would cause if it fell onto city block or two.

Part of me was worried that the demons used hydrogen as their lifting gas instead of something like helium. But... I really did not want to ask, not when I was still on board.

Alongside Freydis, I looked over the display. "All this intel is a composite of various land and air recon elements, no? Ritual Plate, Venture airships, and whatever Legionary scouts you've dropped in?"

The captain gave an indulgent nod, like I was a slow student who had potential. "But do not get too fixated." Her English was an odd mix of clipped vowels but flowing words. "We can't see everything and we can be spoofed. Can look for specific threats, but it will miss others, but it does give an overall trend."

BlackStone blinked. "What are the numbers?"

"We have to extrapolate from what our scouts are getting," the captain glanced at her aide.

BloodMist had a little grin as she studied the other purple marks on the map. Specifically, the octagonal symbols that had clustered around the Svatevelf Embassy.

"Sixty thousand. Plus or minus a few thousand. The boffins are still working on the exact composition. We can only fully ID a third of that. It helps that they're forming up and preparing inland." the aide shook her head. "But they've sent their own scouts ahead. And the shore is long with many buildings, and they can veil some of their troops. Or simply use tunnels dug ahead of time. And this is just their first wave."

Ah. That was going to be a problem. The map was sterile, but I knew, we all knew, that many Fomor, landing on the beaches were going to be murdering whoever they came across. Murdering and worse.

"And what are you doing about that?" BlackStone asked.

I made note of the use of "you" instead of "we".

As did BloodMist, but the demon simply held up a finger and kept us waiting for a few seconds. Then several more.

It was nearly half a minute before the yellow blocks near the shore started to break apart.

"Ah sister, so that's your game," BloodMist said after the map updated and dark purple parabolas appeared connecting the octagons in the Svartelf Embassy to the Fomor locations.

"You're shelling them," BlackStone noted with horror in her voice.

"Strength?" Freydis asked.

"Two reinforced Arachne batteries, call it thirty pieces," the aide supplied.

"It seems my sister prioritized landing those guns and a generous supply of munitions and protective equipment and other assets. That plus the skills the Svartalves have in defensive fortifications should make that a secure enough firebase," BloodMist stated.

"You're shelling Chicago," BlackStone stated as her tail twisted in knots. "Well... if it gets them."

I kept myself under more control. I had been around longer than the wizard and had seen horrors and the power of mortal weapons. Still, even I had not expected this.

"Damage Assessment is ongoing but.... artillery never gets everyone. We don't have perfect recon," the aide, Centurion Vilnus I think her name was, said.

"And we're not indiscriminately bombing," Schechter stated.

Which I wondered was because she thought it would be a waste of valuable ordnance or out of concern for human lives. I mean, Kine were... Kine. But we were fighting the Fomor, in part because we're better than them.

But mostly because the Fomor would kill us, and then the humans would go to war against the supernatural.

"Don't worry, it's not just Arachne." BloodMist gave a vicious grin. "The DarkStar and the 42nd Bombardment flotilla are using the artillery barrage as cover." She pointed to a few more explosions. "If I had to guess, those are Galatine warheads. Inexpensive, but in this situation, will do well against concentrations of troops.

"Not as well as other options, but it seems Sister is not letting the enemy know all that we can do just yet."

I blinked about the "inexpensive" part. The idea of a giant magical missile being cheap was... absurd. But every large organization had to manage a budget, and that meant whatever the demonic Legions was holding back was something... worrying.

I started to sympathize with Dresden, living alone and poor in a basement apartment, having to fight against the might of the Vampire Nations, or the White Council of Wizards. She had spent much of her... of his life being the scrappy underdog facing far larger enemies.

"If the enemy thinks we're mostly using mundane tube artillery, then they won't react as quickly," Schetler shook her head. "After this, they'll learn to distribute their forces and it'll be harder to catch them out in the open."

I was not certain. Corb was a very prideful man, and as long as it was not him personally being killed he could care little for his troops. And from what I had been told of Ethniu, her arrogance was such that she would hardly notice her minions dropping like flies. "I am not certain an artillery battery wound count as mundane in the Fomor's eyes."

"Their loss."

The aide had, oh so helpfully, zoomed in. And the abstraction turned into a feed that jittered about. It also was not quite perfect as if it was taking something from a couple angles that almost got the whole picture. It was probably a composite of some forward scouts and maybe some airborne assets.

I idly wondered how the data intake was being processed; the demons did not seem to have much in the way of electronics. Empty Night, how did their communications work? Were they using radio waves? Some sort of thaumaturgy? Something else?

Were they secure against the Fomor? The White Council?

The display was now showing a group of Fomor in parade-neat lines forming up out of the water on a park. There were the slimy octopus-ape hybrids, turtle-necked human servitors, lanky muscular humanoids, and groups of froggy-like Fomor themselves. All in blocks and under banners.

There were a handful of scattered human bodies. Mostly pushed to the side like so much detritus.

Then came the artillery strike. The first salvo cut most of them down. The next were even more accurate and cut through even more. A few of the Fomor mages put up wards and shields. I would like to think there was wild fear on their faces. That of an unknown killer that they could barely comprehend let alone stop, but the resolution was not good enough to make out their expressions.

And that's when I realized this was not some macabre display for our benefit.

The footage was from multiple angles, triangulating coordinates. The Fomor defenders, the Formor survivors had marked their positions. And were now hit by the third barrage. An entire cohort of Fomor had just been functionally obliterated

BlackStone sighed. "You said that's not going to get them all."

BloodMist shook her head "The front is too large. Even if we were willing to level every block that butted the waterfront, they'd still come through. The rubble would give them cover.

No, they're going to make landfall. If we had more time we could position our troops and fight them on the beaches, but then they'd be fighting with their back to the water, to their domain."

Dresden's eyes were flat. "They're going to get into the city."

"Daughter, you knew that; you knew that would happen with or without us."

"You could have landed your troops anywhere in the city, you could confront them on the shore."

"They would go around and flank us. Besides, it takes time to organize our forces. If AshRain can avoid a hot, contested landing straight into combat, especially for our heavy equipment, she will do that."

"She focused on the artillery..." BlackStone's hands clenched as the display zoomed back out. "She wanted to hurt them. But they'll still get through."

"Not without heavy losses," I said. "And you don't want to use up all of your munitions now, on targets that may not exist, instead of later when you're directly fighting them. Harry, this is the right move. It's terrible, but this is war."

BlackStone gave me a hurt look. As if she expected me to take her side.

BloodMist nodded. "Yes, and while attacking them now does let them know of some of our capabilities, and teach them to disperse and avoid traveling in the open in a dense mass. We are doing more than thinning their numbers.

"We are spoiling their attack, ruining their formations. Keeping your enemy from organizing in good order is vital. Their Landing Zones are under heavy bombardment, ours are not."

Freydis took the baton. "Right, they'd want to gather their forces and organize them for a push. They'll send out small raiding, scouting, probing attacks, but to hold land they'll need a large, coherent, group. And anytime they form up in neat parade rows they're at the risk of getting blasted." The Valkyrie gave a vicious smile. "And that means you can take apart their scouts."

"And we're pretty sure they don't have communications, not to the tactical level," I stated. "They'll have to spend more time on runners and coordinating distributed forces."

BlackStone frowned at all of us.

"You saw Ethniu, you know what she's like. You know her weaknesses, her pride, her inexperience. She'll order the Fomor to push through," BloodMist said. "She is going to get an education."

"And that's how you beat a numerically superior foe. You whittle them down in stages, you break them apart into separate units and kill them one at a time," I added. "And with my men providing translators and local scouts. Along with Marcone's men, we will have the advantage of home territory."

"The Chancellor of the White Court is correct," the Captain said, in a tone that indicated she took a bit of thought to not start that sentence with "even"

BloodMist gave her daughter her full attention. "We can drop you off here. If it is your wish to get them right now it will be granted. Mother would even send support with you. Like a Cohort or two.

"But such a salient, so close to the beaches, to their lines..."

"You'll get surrounded," Freydis said.

"It will help defend the Svartalf Embassy," the aide helpfully said. "By focusing the enemy's attention on you."

"Beyond encirclement, you will have the full wrath of Corb and the Titan." BloodMist's tail stilled. "Having a hardpoint like that right on their lines, would be a major thorn in their side. It is not a complete waste, it will buy time, and keep them from moving off the beach."

"Knowing Dresden, Corb and Ethniu will not be able to just bypass her," I added, appreciating the option they were giving the pouting princess. "She is annoying to her enemies in that way."

BlackStone's Mother nodded. "However, those attached to her will be volunteering for a forlorn hope."

The wizard seemed to deflate. "I can't put people in danger just because I want to stop something."

The captain quirked an eyebrow.

"Not just because. There has to be a reason, and sending people to die isn't much better if I'm there with them."

"A forlorn hope is not, technically a suicide mission," BloodMist stated. "A formation of Fomor with the Titan's support, or the other way around, will be formidable and high casualty. But you would have considerable air support and resupply."

"Yeah, well that's part of why I want to go to my island," BlackStone snapped then seemed to droop a bit more.

"Ah, you've secured some equipment, weapons, or other assets there?" BloodMist's eyes sparkled.

I frowned. It was easy to underestimate Dresden. Yes, she was stubborn and had a strong moral sense, but she was also... well Dresden. If it were anyone else I would assume her "clumsy succubus" thing was an act.

That said, Dresden was connected to that cursed island in some way. She had fought enough on it and used it to her advantage and claimed it. It was also where she had some means of protecting our brother.

And... she had secured things there. Wizards were frustrating like that. They would ferret out secrets and artifacts and hoard knowledge like a squirrel with nuts. Maybe after events such as a group of Necromancers trying to empower themselves, having to slay multiple Fairy Queens, and taking out the Red Court... maybe BlackStone... maybe Dresden started preparing.

We were on a demonic war-zeppelin due to her after all.

I glanced at BloodMist. She knew. Or that is to say she suspected. Hence this little flotilla.

I watched as the barrages moved to different Fomor concentrations. "You've made an incorrect assumption."

The captain looked skeptical, as if someone who did not have their experience could miss something. That I was some minor power with a negligible military force.

BloodMist however nodded to me. "You do live here."

I raised my arms to encompass the magically charged and assembled compartment, the airship, their whole fleet. "This is professional. You value your troops and will work to keep them alive. I'm sure your rivals do as well. If not for moral reasons the simple realpolitik that a Great House that has thrown away its military forces will cease to be a Great House."

I shook my head at the map. "The Fomor don't care; they'll sacrifice their minions, and they don't plan to stay in the field that long. And the titan doesn't care if all the Fomor die."

"Still... every Fomor killed trying to get off the beach is one less to fight in the city," Schetler countered.

I nodded to the captain. "And that's why you need to keep up the pressure. Don't think that you can break their will or get them to retreat. You can't have them be combat ineffective but still alive."

"Even the Fomor's human servants have been modified to put no value to their lives," BlackStone agreed.

BloodMist and the captain shared a look with some mix of subtle and not so subtle body language. They then went to the aide.

The almost-mousy-looking woman lifted her hands and with a soft pale green glow at her eyes many of the silver and gold circles and whorls on the walls and ceiling started to flare with antic light.

There was a series of exchanges that started simple and then BloodMist got involved and after maybe a minute the map in the table split.

One half was still a map, the other was a monochrome pale green projection of a prim woman in Legionary battle-dress. She looked to be in some sort of armored vehicle that was bouncing about. I caught the image of a few other officers and troops before the feed cuts to an image of just House Legate AshRain standing there.

Another of the Imperatrix's Daughters. I wondered what BlackSky herself was up to?

As was her wont, BlackStone gave some inane comment, something about us nearing the main power generator and a shield being down in moments.

BloodMist ignored that. "Sister, we've got confirmation. The Fomor won't break. They won't pull back and redeploy."

"Oh?" AshRain's tone was mild and she seemed to be splitting her attention between us and another conversation she was having without words.

"Legate, you saw Corb and Ethniu, do you think they care about their troops?" I asked.

"Well." AshRain's full attention was on me as she gave a sharp smirk. "Are you certain? The Council thought they might break and the Fae courts were non-committal. I was balancing between showing more of our cards to hit them harder or seeing if they would shatter under the current barrage."

"That won't work." I said. "Oh yes, those you kill will stay dead. Unless they have a necromancer. But they won't waste men caring for the wounded. They won't run because you've killed half their number. They'll reform shattered units. If only to avoid Ethniu's wrath, they'll keep fighting."

"She did seem prideful, inexperienced, and disdainful of machines," AshRain noted, and that distant expression was back. She was not ignoring us; she was giving orders.

"She is a being from another age. From a time more terrible than even you can imagine, with rampant magic and gods," I cautioned.

AshRain showed teeth. "Then we will give her an education in modern magical warfare. If she is willing to send her troops into a meat grinder, then we shall oblige."

BloodMist nodded. "Make the rubble bounce, Sister."

AshRain bowed her head. "Get what your daughter requires and get back. We need her and we need your expertise." AshRain said, "And we need you, Lady Raith."

I bowed my head to hers.

AshRain paused. "Oh, be careful over the water, I'm releasing the 42nd's corvettes and torpedo bombers and some other assets. They'll be depth charging using our stock of tridents and Galtines anything under the waves that looks funny. I recommend changing course to not get in the way"

BloodMist gasped. "Surely not..."

Her sister laughed. "Stars no. These are Madhu's Tridents. I don't believe Mother will authorize Shiva's. But please, do be careful, I leave you in Principales Zariah Magnus Schechter's hands. Good Luck." she stated before cutting the connection.

Oh. That last bit... that was... meant for me. Shiva's Trident also known as Trishula was a mighty weapon in mythology. One of three of Shiva's weapons. She was a goddess of creation and creativity, but also one with the moniker "the Destroyer". Created using matter from the sun, the actual Trishula severed Ganesha's original head.

And the demons used it to name a Torpedo, a Torpedo that required the authorization of their supreme leader to deploy.

If that was not blatant enough I thought of what other giant missiles were called "tridents"

The demons were telling me, in a deniable way, that....

Empty Night.

The DarkStar. I knew the stories. The tales of demonic invasions seemed less fanciful now. Less so the idea of BlackSky deciding to destroy an entire rival House in a pique of vengeance.

These demons were prideful and arrogant. Even Dresden had a bit of that when she returned. And DarkStar was insufferably, but adorably, prideful. And it seemed, in some ways, justified.

I was sure their troops were capable and professional and could be supported and deployed in good order. I was also sure that the various spying and recon they had done before the peace talks would serve them well.

But this was not their world, they were strangers here. No wonder they were working with Marcone's men and mine and took my advice over that of Winter and the White Council. The Fae and the Wizards were powerful, no doubt, but in many ways both were distant from the mortal world and the kind of war the Fomor had been fomenting.

But with the Trishulas... I was not certain that such weapons were even on the Battlecruiser DarkStar. It was an obvious platform, and well-defended. But perhaps they were kept on some anonymously smaller ship. Empty Night, a corvette could hold eight Torpedoes. How many Shiva's tridents did they really need?

I could imagine some little patrol craft in an out of the way area, crewed and guarded by troops especially loyal. But other than that the airship would ac perfectly normal, save that one or two, gotta have redundancy, if its Torpedoes could kill a city. I gave a crazed little laugh at the realization that one of those ubiquitous little corvettes was part of our formation.

It probably wasn't that one. I mean... we were going over water. It probably wasn't us.

"Lady Raith?" BloodMist politely asked, a bit of mirth in her tone.

From the horror in BlackStone's expression she had figured it out as well. The demons had brought weapons of mass destruction.

And the older demoness seemed proud of both of us.

"You are not nuking Chicago!" BlackStone shouted.

"I would rather hope not," BloodMist stated. "Given, my mother, several of my sisters and. oh yes, twenty thousand and rising Legionaries are down there. I would rather they not all die."

Dresden blinked and it took her a bit to process. We were in the sky and could escape. And I was certain that the rest of Dresden's family, save that stubborn old Scot, were being evacuated up to some airship.

"Daughter, the Eye of Balor is a magical weapon of mass destruction. It is in the hands of a petty but powerful being who thinks of us as ants. We need a contingency plan in case all others fail."

"And that's using magic nukes of your own?" BlackStone waspishly asked.

Her mother gave a toothy grin. "No. BlackStone, that's you. You are our contingency plan."

I managed to keep my composure. And it would be my job to make sure the wizard did not fail.


End Part 4

 

[Sunshine Temple]

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.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
http://fukufics.com

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 15: One with the Sea

After checking that I was not transmitting, I gave a sigh of frustration. House Trosier had fired a brace of submarine-launched missiles at an Alecton cruiser. They had also deployed roughly seventy Ritual Plate, about a light BlackSkyvian Wing.

From their disposition and numbers, it seemed that there were two Trosic Strike Escadron; each consisting of twenty-seven Baptiste strike RP and fifteen Rochefort air superiority models.

It was a robust formation focused on heavy strikes with reasonable escorts that could be split into sub-groups. House Trosier had sent one formation as a second barrage against that Howe class missile cruiser, while the other had been sent against the freighter we had been inspecting for contraband.

We had found all that and more, and House Trosier had decided to tie up a loose end. Personally, I found it excessive and a reckless escalation. People would die over the uncaring sea.

But Trosier had not asked my opinion. I had sent my Flight out ahead of the rest of the squadron to blunt their attack.

Inspecting the composite data on the map display that my Gorgon Rig and the various other scrying systems, I made a few range calculations and flashed my fangs.

We were outnumbered and our Polyxo suits were in Strike configuration which was not ideal for anti-air.

"Here's the target list and weapons selections," I said over the Flight channel. While Trosier had tolerable Veiling systems, their Ritual Plate were more easily detected. Multiple Gorgon Rigs on our side, something I would report as further evidence of the system's broader utility, and their decision to move at their maximum possible velocity essentially killed any hopes for stealth the Trosic Pilots might have harbored.

There was a brief pause as my Pilots took in the fire mission. "We're not targeting their Baptistes?" VioletBlood asked.

"Correct. Now is not the time to focus on their strike RP," I stated

"But our Lances outrange theirs," Visha replied. She was correct. The high power emitters on the Baptiste were not as far-ranged as the Telephe, or a strike-Polyxo. The Baptiste was also rather less maneuverable, but more robust for naval operations. Overall, it made a cheaper suit than the Telephe. One that could still hit hard and at long range but was more vulnerable to airborne threats. It did mean that a strike package was less expensive to field, but required dedicated escort.

"Exactly." GreyDawn chuckled. "There's still a fair bit of time before their strike suits get in range of that freighter."

"Meanwhile. we can fire on them while staying out of their range," I added.

"But... they won't accept that. They'll send their escorts to take us out and they outnumber us four to one," VioletBlood countered.

I laughed. "Hopefully, I doubt they'll leave their strike forces naked but..."

I could imagine Visha nodding along as I quickly switched to the Flight Leader channel to inform the other Flights and Prefect Quirinus of my plans. "The squadron commander of those Rocheforts may be tempted to split her forces. Two Flights to guard the strike suits, and then two Flights to hit our single Flight," she said

"Cutting their escorts in half," VioletBlood chortled. The little war maniac automatically assumed we would prevail on two-to-one odds.

Her arrogance was not entirely misplaced. The enemy was likely flying a navalized Rochefort which had more waterproofing and a broader performance envelope. As an air-superiority suit, it lacked the performance of a Harmonia, while also edging into too broad of a remit by having some light anti-ship and anti-surface roles. Unlike other Trosic RP models, they also carried a respectable amount of the one-one shot mortar-like tubes loaded with short-range anti-mage payloads.

The Rochefort did not have the performance upgrades of the Tjardu, a Zioxan derivative. Thus it was a less expensive suit. But also one that, absent Pilot skill, needed a numerical advantage to take on a Harmonia. "Careful, the Grand Admiral does not assign poor quality Pilots to critical escort duties," I admonished.

At least VioletBlood had the sense to not transmit her haughty sniff.

++++++

Occasionally, I disliked being proven correct. Whoever was commanding that Trosic formation was clever. After our focused Lance Strike at beyond recommended max range destroyed a Rochefort and, in a bout of mistaken identity, critically damaged a Baptiste, the enemy commander did peel off a force to counter us.

I had a bit of sympathy for that Baptiste Pilot. Going down over water was a bad fate for an RP Pilot. If she had to ditch, she would have to eject out of the suit or be pulled under. And even with flotation devices, she'd be at the mercy of the elements. At least the water was a bit warmer here.

She could try to go back to the submarine that launched her but that would just lead her enemies, us, straight to the vessel which we would endeavor to sink. Having a submarine near to recovery depth was a risk and one not worth a single Pilot. Honestly, her best option was to broadcast her surrender on an open channel, dump her suit in the Gaudia sea, and hope House BlackSky and not House Alecto picked her up. We were more inclined to do prisoner exchanges than our Alecton allies. And it was not like either House flogged our POWs.

But that singular tragedy of someone drowning cold and alone was at the back of my mind. Tonight was going to be a night full of loss, what was one more?

The Trosic commander had been clever. She had sent a force after us. But Instead of two Flights of Rochefort, she sent what looked like six of the escort suits and four strike suits. They planned to return the favor and counter-fire.

It weakened their overall strike package, but they were trying to take out a freighter, one filled with munitions. It was overkill and honestly, she would be better served with more fighter RP, but the Trosic commander had a set amount of each type of suit and that was that.

Attention was a critical resource in battle. One had to be focused on immediate threats but an officer had to keep an eye on the larger picture. Fortunately, I was merely a Flight Leader.

If I were still a Field Officer, as in my previous life, I would have to put more focus on how the Alecton Howe class cruiser and its RP Combat Air Patrol Squadrons had just barely managed to defeat the incoming missile barrage. And how that had left them somewhat out of position to deal with the second Escadron which would be in target range sooner than the one we were fighting.

That was just the defensive aspect. Those Trosic submarines had to be tracked and hunted down and our own Mulberry Fast attack craft were also being attacked and could fight back as well.

Nearer to me, I would also have to keep abreast of what was happening on the Sunset Breeze. Was it being evacuated? Where were the VTOLs? Even at the Squadron Commander level, Quirinus is coordinating with the Sarpedona Flights running escort to the Spatha VTOLs and any other BlackSkyvian RP in the area.

But that was all above my pay grade. My focus was on two reinforced flights worth of enemy RP that was on an intercept vector.

I had my Flight change course, at max power, as if we were swinging around the intercepting force to try to get back to threatening the main enemy RP force.

"They're still coming," VioletBlood noted. "But we can't draw them out too far."

"Right," GreyDawn agreed. "If we're no threat to their main force then they'll simply rejoin them."

"Then we better keep their force divided," Visha said.

Listening to them and taking part in the Flight Leader channel, I smirked. I then finished up and went back to my Flight. "That's right girls. Now, let's get their attention."

The enemy formation was moving aggressively, but sensibly. The six Rochefort fighters were spread in a staggered arrow formation of three pairs with the four Baptiste strike suits back and in the protective "pocket" of their escorts.

Timing was key. We could get a couple more Lance shots in before the Baptiste got into range. Thus it was their imperative to try and intercept us as soon as possible. Their evasion was minimal but they would increase it the closer they got in.

"Mark targets," I ordered as I checked the composite display. We had a handful of Lance shorts left and this was the time to make them count. Being proper escorts, Rocheforts provided some measure of protection and their own Veils and countermeasures helped protect their charges.

It was a solid formation.

It was also one that was built around a tactical mistake. One the Pilot in charge should have realized.

And yet we would give them one more chance to learn.

Mercy's Flight had burst in and opened fire with their Lances on the main force. They only took out one escort RP. But the reaction was the same and sensible enough. Two more flights peeled off one of each type. There was some risk as that left the main strike force with only four escorts. But letting another BlackSkyvian flight freely harass them was unacceptable.

Second Flight should be able to handle that. If not, if not. I could only put a bare bit of attention on them. Most of my focus was on the enemy before me. The range was almost right, the targeting was getting better. Just a bit more...

"Fire Solution, Two," I ordered as each of us fired our projectors. Eight blinding, relentless Lance beams speared out. Lances were very powerful weapons. And now my Flight was down to just a single Lance shot remaining. Not counting myself, as I had fired that warning shot across the freighter's bow earlier tonight, I was already empty

And those Baptiste would be hard targets.

But this time the enemy force was moving with greater focus on us, was at closer range, we had a bit more time to refine our targeting, and there was far more ordnance in the sky.

The House Trosier Pilots reacted well. They were in a good formation and had solid enough training. When faced with enough firepower to burn through a battleship's active defenses, Wards, and armor they did not panic and reacted as a cohesive unit.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong reaction.

They had trained to protect the RP they were escorting above all. For a RP escorting a strike force to ensure it can fire on a large high-value target, it was the sensible reaction. For a small formation going out to attack enemy RP, it was the wrong reaction.

The Lances sliced through the formation. The hit ratio was lousy, RP were rather small and fast moving compared to the normal targets of Lances, but with the power levels involved even a glancing blow could be sufficient to cripple an enemy suit.

Three Rocherfort were destroyed, or were sputtering wrecks, two more were moderately damaged and one unlucky Baptiste Pilot had her wards overload from a grazing shot which also heated up her own flasks causing chain detonation of her munitions and power cells.

"Charge Emitters! Drop flasks!" I ordered. The alchemical power cells that stored the bracing power channeled though Lance Projectors were massively-intricate artificer creations . The cells were stored on conformal flasks that bolted onto the outside of the suit's torso, sort of like an extra-thick bodice. They could be ejected if damaged, or to recoup some weight savings and gain a slight performance edge.

If I survived, I would justify the expense to Quirinus, but I doubted she would object much. Right now this meant that my Flight had three Lances ready and were not weighted down by the flasks.

The formation was rattled; half their escorts were down, but they still had teeth.

If we were flying Harmonia that would not be as much of an issue. As House BlackSky's air superiority and interceptor suit, its high-end performance and maneuverability gave it a primary defensive role of taking out enemy strike Ritual Plate, in addition to its offensive roles in establishing air dominance.

An interesting thing about the Polyxo suit I wore was the primary difference between the Air superiority configuration and the Strike configuration was that the latter had the projectors, power feeds, and flasks to fire Lances. While the former had extra thrust capability, maneuvering, and more capacity on the anti-air Ballista projectors

But of the three primary configurations Strike and Air Superiority were the closest. Which meant that without our Flasks weighing us down, I had, after the Polyxo configuration for this role, the third best thing to a Harmonia Flight.

"Match course. And ready for evasion, they are going to fire at maximum range," I stated.

"But they should wait until we're just out of our Ballista range. That way they can get the better targeting data and have the least time for us to maneuver," VioletBlood countered.

"That would be their best move." I agreed. "But that ignores the psychological factor. They've taken losses, heavy losses. And more of their comrades have peeled off to protect the main strike team from Mercy's Flight."

"And here's my Flight," I purred. We were under a moderate Veil, but I was doing little to obscure our approach. I was focused more on maneuvering to avoid their fire and close than hiding who we were.

"You think they have intel on us?"

"I know if a Zioxan 'mercenary' Pilot could figure out who a white feather-winged Polyxo Pilot in this theater was, I don't have to ask you what the odds were that Pilots from their ally House Trosier were also informed," I lightly said.

GreyDawn laughed.

A few moments passed. "We'll be nearing the range that our boffins and spooks think their Lances max out at, so unless they're wrong or Trosier has a new model... well I guess we'll find out soon enough."

There was more laughter, but we had started adding more maneuvers to our flight paths. Three Baptiste meant a max of a dozen Lances, more likely nine. That was still a good amount against four enemy RP.

"Besides, they'll think we're empty on our Lances; let them think they have the superior range," I ordered. Keeping my Flight's Lance projectors, their focusing apparatus and emitters, charged up did add wear to the system. My Flight would also have to fire soon or the entire apparatus would have to be refurbished. Storing that much arcane energy in a ready-to-fire state also meant that if someone got hit, a sympathetic detonation was more likely.

It was a risk, but if I were in the enemy's hooves and I had superior range I would endeavor to keep my distance. Meanwhile, I wanted to close so those last Lances will have a better hit ratio.

"Incoming fire," GreyDawn stated, her voice oddly cool. The tracks that appeared on the map made the massive arcane blasts look far slower and sterile than the danger they represented.

"Evade. Evade. Evade!" I ordered, not because my Flight was not already scattering, but because it was part of our training.

The three enemy Lances blinked across the distance to us. I was in the lead position. From my display, I gauged that two strikes would miss VioletBlood and Visha due to their jinking and sudden accelerations. The third was one to my left I could evade, but... after me, it would pass GreyDawn.

And she, however, would have a far harder time evading. The Lance would miss. But with an arcane weapon designed to blow though capital ship protections, close was enough to kill a Ritual Plate. It would be almost far enough for GreyDawn's wards to protect her.

Almost. Not enough.

We had all moved the most we could and it was rotten luck that it would hit her. But... in another twist of luck, I was also positioned to do something.

My reaction was automatic. I had an instant. I slammed to the side, Zephyr and wings screaming in pain. I dumped all my spare power, including my earrings, into my port-side wards. Silver light flared around me like a comet as I tried for just the correct intercept angle.

Too close and I'd immolate myself, and not even save GreyDawn. Too far and I'd deflect but still blow myself up. I had to kiss the Lance with enough force to brush past and alter its deflection while not detonating it.

I only needed a couple of degrees. And for a moment, my Wards screaming, alert lights flickering to orange and red, I thought I had it. The pressure on my Wards eased as I pulled away pushing my Zephyr to get maximum separation. My Display updated. Alarms were still blaring, but the Lance was racing past me on its new heading.

And then it detonated.

My Wards flashed over and then my alarms cut out and my display crashed. I tumbled with my suit burning and prickling agony as I fell.

The worst was in my tail as it felt boiled-over and my wings had almost been blasted back. I had a splitting headache that felt like my horns had been pounded into my skull

The pain was good. It meant I was alive. I started casting the ritual to restart my suit's systems. It was supposed to be an automatic process, but the procedure was for the pilot to do it as well. There was a squealing noise; something had torn away above my left hip. My suit smelled of hot metal fragments and burnt leather.

And my display remained off.

I could see out of my eye lenses but that was just barely enough for basic flying. Navigation, especially over water at night, required instruments.

Though I only had until I crashed into the sea. I glanced down at a mechanical altimeter with its luminous dial in the corner of my vision. It was spinning down. Maybe I would be hit by the enemy, maybe I would have to ditch my suit. Other backups such as the compasses, aetheric and magnetic, and gyros were still operational.

I tried restarting my suit again and this time a few indicator lights flickered on. They were a sullen amber instead of a bright green but it was something. Now able to be fed suit power, my Zephyr were coaxed back awake, they had been shaken but the spirits accepted the inputs. And then my display flickered back up and I winced.

Half of my ward projectors were just... gone. My power systems were battered and I had damage to my Lances, but more worryingly one of my Ballista air to air weapons systems was out. At least I had ditched the Flasks and my Lance emitters were not charged. Even my Verutum launcher was down with both a fault in the fed mechanism of the pebble-like munitions and the power to the launcher itself severed.

In all, my weapon choices were rather low. Worse, my suit was in strike configuration which meant I had a lower energy capacity with Ballista than if I were in fighter configuration.

The map came up as my comms and scrying returned.

"The enemy's slowing down," Visha noted. I saw her highlighting velocity and heading estimates on the Display.

"They'll be trying to maintain distance and get a more accurate follow-up." I gasped, barely audible. My throat suddenly became very dry. I drank some water, thankful that system had not failed.

"What about the countess?" VioletBlood demanded, apparently not hearing me.

"She would want us to use this opportunity; she has time,' GreyDawn stated. "Mark your targets. If they'll give us that chance we will take it."

The enemy strike suits should have given an immediate follow-up shot. But they waited a few seconds to get a better targeting. Having only hit one of us must have spooked them.

They were angry and afraid. They had been thrown into a mission they had not expected and now, in this moment they thought they had us at their mercy. And so their strike RP slowed and took a steadier course. They took that extra time to ensure their targeting. Maybe they were afraid, maybe they were overconfident, but they forgot the most important part of air-to-air combat:

"Fire," I ordered, my voice returning. I knew my input was not necessary. I had trained my Flight. My focus was on regaining my position, speed, and altitude.

GreyDawn had beat me by a half second with her own command.

The three fired, and this time their my Flight's last Lances targeting the three remaining Baptiste. Two were solid hits, one was a graze, but the suit flared and she jettisoned her own flasks.

"Well done!" I congratulated as I caught up on the greater tactical picture. It was... hectic. Mercy's Flight was similarly mauling the small Trosic detachment chasing them.

Quirinus' Flight, supported by nearly a squadron of Sarpedona that had been escorting the Spatha, was moving to intercept the remaining sixteen Baptiste before they could get in range of the Sunset. That was still a powerful strike package, especially against a freighter, and one that could also target smaller surface assets like a Mulberry Fast Attack Craft. But, due to our efforts, they only had a Flight of four Rocheforts escorting them.

The Alecton forces were still in the fight. Though, it seems our allies had been wounded, as their cruiser had been damaged and was billowing smoke. The Trosic forces were pulling back but were under pursuit. They would have to break contact somehow if they wanted to make it to their submarines without endangering the u-boats.

That was all beyond me and just taken in with a glance at my restored map data. Head still pounding, I focused on what mattered right now. I could feel everything sharpen and a bit of the pain dull as my suit's medical system responded.

The enemy before us was now down to a Flight in strength. They had two damaged Rochefort, one that was fresh, and one damaged Baptiste with no Lances.

Even with my own damaged suit... I was comfortable with those odds.

The enemy managed to get a fairly coherent formation. They were well-trained enough and capable of taking losses, but they had to be in a bad state. Not just of their own fate but of the rest of their strike Escadron had been eviscerated. Admirably, they were still trying to keep us from reuniting with friendly forces.

It was unfortunate that they had dedicated themselves to an already doomed task.

With Visha in a protective spot at my wing, GreyDawn and VioletBlood formed up and led the assault targeting the two Pilots on the forward half of the somewhat out-dated elongated diamond formation.

Opening fire with their Ballistas, they caught two damaged enemy suits and started soaking their wards. The enemy peeled off and flipped into a more aggressive stance.

Cutting off from the rest of their Flight, I was not sure if they were trying to draw VioletBlood and GreyDawn away to protect the rest of their flight, but it was a risky move, damaged as those two Trosic Pilots were.

The sole fully-intact enemy RP launched herself at me. I could appreciate the Rochefort Pilot's logic. At a glance, I would look like the easy target, and taking me out could be a quick way to get numerical superiority.

That was the dire part about Flight-scale combat. The first casualty, then the second, could turn an even match into something prohibitively lopsided.

But Visha was there; she took the lead, immediately firing and cutting off the enemy Pilot, nearly diving into knife-fighting range.

I had a moment of indecision. The classroom correct choice would be swooping in to assist Visha. I was combat capable enough that I could contribute and two on one would make that fight much quicker.

But then I saw the last Baptise trying to fly off. "We've got a runner," I said over the flight channel and went in pursuit of the errant strike suit.

I chanced a quick gaze over my display, and noted that my Flight seemed to have things well in hand. The enemy RP, for all they were ably piloted, were getting more damaged with each passing second.

Adjusting my Gorgon Rig, which was also damaged, I found that the fleeing pilot had dropped her emissions even lower. It was hard to tell if she was attempting stealth, or if her suit had been more badly damaged than I had thought?

As best I could, given my own damage, I followed suit and cut down my emissions. The heading was strange. It was vaguely in the direction of the forces that Mercy and Quirinus were engaging. Was the pilot going to a rally point? Was she going to their enemy sub?

A bit of anger flared within me. If that was the pilot's goal, then she was showing a treasonous level of cowardice. Ritual Plate was not the best at anti-submarine warfare. The suits had less capacity for underwater scrying and sonar systems and were not the best for carrying depth charges arcane or otherwise.

But we could do airborne tracks and surface scans and we could call in VTOLs that were equipped with anti-sub capabilities.

"She spotted me," I stated, giving in a little curse as her course changed just a bit and her Scrying swept over me. Both our suits were damaged enough that our Veils and other low observable systems were fairly shot. "Moving to intercept."

I dove down. The range closed and I opened fire, only for my targeting system to malfunction and the indicator on my instrument display flicker off. Even after manually correcting, only a few of the arcane shots splashed against the enemy's wards. I would have to be careful; a cornered Pilot would fight with every weapon at hand.

Rolling over, she fired back, and I pulled tighter into my curve to evade. Above, the battle was going well for the rest of my Flight. Quirinus' Flight and the Alecton sub hunters seemed to be having quite the field day, having a broken strike formation and forced the surrender of several pilots, and hinting multiple subs respectively.

I flipped over and got tagged flaring my wards as the amber arcane energy blasts hit. Some hit the weak spot where my projectors had burned out and started hitting my armor.

Darting, I took careful aim, making sure to lead to compensate, and fired. My remaining Ballista's capacity dwindled in the profligate burst, but I was rewarded with the enemy pilot's wards flashing out.

Turning, she went into a powered dive that gained her speed but brought both of us closer to the ocean. I had to give her credit for her skills. Despite the damage to her suit and the fear I could begin to sense as our distance closed, she managed to pull her dive to prevent her from becoming an obvious target.

Angling her shoulders back, she started firing off her own anti-mage weapons. Unlike the more complicated, but higher capacity, Verutum launcher, House Trosier Ritual Plate had a handful of single shot mortar-like launchers. They were rather similar to the pyrotechnics mortars I had used in the ballet troupe.

Annoyingly, that comparison was proven far more accurate than I had anticipated as a brace of blinding, bursting explosions flashed in front of me. My helmet's eye lenses automatically closed, and my Veils were burned away as my Wards began to lose cohesion. The headache rooted in my horns increased as my display grew very sparse.

I was just barely able to see that the Pilot had jackknifed in front of me, firing her own anti-air weapons. I powered through the blinding attack and, turning so that my side with the remaining projectors bore the brunt, returned fire.

It was inelegant and brutish as we pummeled each other. Her targeting systems must have been damaged as well, given the spread of her fire. This close, I could tell that there was more than fear in my enemy; there was a bitter resignation.

Setting my jaw, my lips pulled back I plummeted to her in a direct controlled dive. Alarms screamed around me, but I could tell by the overlapping tones that none of them were that critical.

Taking an instant to steady my aim, I fired. I had to be careful. I was nearly empty. Ballista charges shot out, and the enemy's forward wards collapsed. I grinned when I saw part of the enemy's skull shatter and fly off into the night.

My mood dampened when I realized that it was merely a piece of her helmet and the whole faceplate that had been torn away.

I blinked. The Pilot was young, not much older than VioletBlood. And now her fear had turned into naked terror, but more than that, her radiating resignation had curdled into fatalistic despair.

She had a shot but her gauntlet did not fire. Aching loss, loss of sisters, or near sisters, of family had made the young Pilot's emotions brittle, sharp. Well, if Quirinus was taking prisoners...

"Surrender. Eject your suit. Parole will be granted," I said over an open channel in semi-memorized Akoccitan. The language of House Trosier was a Romance language so there was enough similarity to Silvan Latin to be confusing.

At this low altitude, the Pilot could see her suit fall into the sea, which all but guaranteed that she was not surrendering military secrets to House BlackSky. She'd be able to soothe a guilty conscience, if any troubled her, that her surrender hadn't' cost her House anything it wasn't already going to lose.

My Ballista was aimed over her as we closed in. Her eyes were wide and almost panicked. I wondered if her communications systems were down.

But... she was no longer pointing her weapons at me and she did glance down at the sea below. Maybe she could see reason.

We had slowed down, and she was hardly trying to shake me. The fight above us was nearly concluded. "Surrender; die," I repeated in Akoccitan, keeping target lock as my Wards recovered while hers seemed to stay down. "No difference for me."

Feeling complete resignation, the young Pilot exhaled. Glancing back up at me, she whispered. Wings snapped inward and she plummeted.

I almost fired as she pushed her Zephyr and went into a vertical dive.

At this altitude, it did not take long.

Even if she somehow survived impacting the water at that velocity, the weight of her suit quickly pulled her deep below the surface.

I took a moment focusing my Gorgon Rig on the heaving sea to make sure this was not some... desperate way to reunite with her submarine.

There was nothing there.

And there was nothing I could do.

It was all such a waste. Glancing at my Display, I cursed myself. I had gotten target-fixation and let my Flight down. That they had defeated their enemies was small comfort. Giving the sea one look, I ascended to get back to Visha and the others I also had to check in with Quirinus, though it looked like the air-to-air part of this battle was over.

++++++

My feet treading the metal decking, I strode down the airship's long passageway with a confident step. There was the constant hum of the airship's various systems and the deck rocked ever so slightly. Nevertheless, I strode with the effortless confidence; I might be lower nobility, I might be young, but I was raised and trained from birth.

A Legionary through and through, I rightfully felt that the Imperial Legions were superior to the Household Fleet. Also it was important for both my military and social rank to conduct myself with proper bearing. After all, the Imperatrix in her wisdom encouraged commoners, and nobles, to better themselves, both for their benefit and for our House's.

And Countess DiamondDust was a prime example of just what sort of advancement was possible, if one had special drive and skill. And her elevation had pushed me to heights of ability and potential faster than I had dreamed.

My future, my duty, seemed more secure than I dared hope... provided some savage Minor House missile crew or lesser Great House Pilot in an imitator's suit didn't get a lucky hit on me, of course. However, death was part of the Legions. It was something I tried not to think much about. If I died unwed my land and title would go to my cousin.

But after months and months in a stinking FOB, it was nice to be aboard a true symbol of BlackSkyvian power. As a Nova Class Fleet Carrier, the Obsidian Corona carried two Wings of Ritual Plate. Granted, they were Fleet Pilots in Fleet Wings, each of only eight Squadrons, but combined with nearly two dozen Fujiwara torpedoes and two VTOL squadrons, the Obsidian Corona was a mobile force to impose our House's will upon our enemies.

With all those assets, the Damocles Light Carrier and the Mace Destroyer in escort were almost an afterthought. And there were ships in the Household Fleet that made the Obsidian Corona seem insignificant.

It was awkward to have some other Ritualista team strip me out of my armor, but the Fleet girls were competent enough and could do the repairs necessary on the countess' suit.

I also had the chance to get my hair back up into my preferred curls. However, when I got out of the head's wash station, I found that my countess had wandered off after getting a medical check. She was not in the galley, or at least the one a deck above and two frames aft of the RP bay we had been assigned as overflow.

However, the Islander girl was there having a snack. She was getting ready to play a game of chess. To her credit it would be a proper Diyu-style game. And she was a skilled enough aggressor in the skirmishing phase, and could use those extra points to get a favorable positioning on a full board in the second phase. Her picking a more knight and scouting heavy build was interesting, enough that GreyDawn rarely lost betting on her.

I did stop by to talk with her, but mostly to get a cup of posca and a pork-filled pita. As expected, the Fleet galley had better meat, garum, and herbs. Now that we had access to better food, I was slightly jealous that the Islander could easily eat her fill without any noticeable effect on her physique, save perhaps further buttressing her admittedly formidable assets. But, that envy was tempered by our new alliance. Now that we had come to an understanding; she was dutifully helping me capture my countess's heart. Even a commoner like her could understand how my victory would benefit us both, I would wed the duchess' youngest daughter, and the Islander would become her mistress. I hadn't been so crass as to mention the last part out loud, but it was clear to me that she understood her place. Ultimately, a countess's mistress was a very reasonable role for one such as her, and the Islander had a passing adequate mind. Both commoner and noble would have our lives improved by this.

Ultimately, I had to seek assistance from Prefect Quirinus before I found out where the Countess had hidden herself away. I suspected that GreyDawn and the Islander had known but opted not to tell me for some obscure reason. In the end, their obstinance, commendable though it might be, would not be enough to keep me from my quarry. After all, to hunt you must understand how the game thinks, and I understood the Countess. And so, I had known that she, being a stickler for the rules, would ensure that her commander knew where she was, and thus my success was assured.

I strode confidently past some Marinii fleet ratings and then a couple of Centurions from Helm, Navigation, and Meteorology on their way to their duty stations. While I could afford to not notice the scurrying of the lower ranks, I did make a point of slowing to brace and expose my neck in a salute to a naval Tribune. Her white fleet uniform bore the insignia of the Powerplant and Propulsion Section, and judging by her weary emotions, limp tail, blank expression, and perfunctory returning salute, the amber-haired Tribune had just come off of shift. Judging by her tired resignation and complete lack of any hint of anticipation, she was off to attend some other duty instead of going to her rack and sleeping.

After passing her, I went down several more frames until I got to Legionary Country. A Fleet Carrier was assigned a century of Legionaries for various security, search and rescue, shore patrol, and other roles. Being assigned to a Fleet airship was not a glamorous posting, but it did come with access to a good galley and superior bunking.

All at the cost of possibly going down with the ship if an enemy attack got through the Combat Air Patrol and other defenses. I stopped and saluted the two Legionaries on guard. They were of lower rank but I was not saluting them; I was saluting what they were guarding. The Armory inside Legionary Country had its own security. However, this was an RP carrier; a saboteur had a wide variety of various alchemical fuels, detonators, and munitions to pick from all over the ship.

"I'm here for Primus Centurion DiamondDust," I said, using a shortened name for the countess.

The two Legionaries on guard looked me over. I was in the bodysuit and harness that went under my Ritual Plate and had taken time to put rank pins and awards into my hair after I redid my curls. I was not sure why the Countess normally eschewed such awards. The pins were a convenient way to wear one's awards when out of uniform.

Or in this specific case, when only wearing the inner layer of flight armor. I suppose the countess could simply wear the Crown of the Preserver. Though why she had yet to commission one was beyond me.

The two imposing Legionaries were taller and older than me. One was a grenadier, which, more than the weapon she had slung, meant she was skilled in combat magic. Not at the level of a Legionary Flier, or even a mage, of course but she would be destructive.

The other had a standard Mark 36 battle rifle. Though the flashes on her uniform and her hair pins marked the lean woman as an Evocatus veteran on her second twenty-year term who had a few campaign ribbons also woven in her dark purple hair.

However, both did bow their horns and with crisp salutes let me into their compartment. I might be a Pilot and a noble, but I was an Legion Pilot.

Going through a small passageway with a few doors on either side, I entered a common room that was rather spacious. That was the advantage of the larger Fleet hulls. While weight was always a concern on an airship, vessels of this size had more volume to play with.

There were a few posterboard prints, mostly landscapes though a couple portraits were rather risque, mounted on the walls and a few skeletal tables and light chairs. One side of the room had a nook that worked as a kitchen and a bar. Though one end of the room had a few pillows, some thick carpeting, and a pair of Ondani shepherds. The two large fluffy grey and black dogs, in contrast to their normally energetic nature, were at rest. One was drowsing while the other had a slack tongue and was happily having its ears scratched.

With her own tail swishing, my countess was sitting on the floor between both of the dogs.

I paused and watched her for a few moments. I had known her for years and the times she had let her guard down were rare and precious. Even before her ennobling, she tried to hold herself to strict standards of comportment. Her emotional control might not have been as skilled as she thought, but she made an attempt.

I will admit at first I thought she was putting on airs and aspiring above her station, but the countess has proved me wrong in that regard.

"Yes, LoveBlood?" she asked before turning to look at me.

One of the big dogs woke up and shifted its muzzle closer to her and rolled to the side.

"I wondered where you had gone."
"The squadron's on stand-down," she stated. "We'll be debriefed soon enough."

I stepped closer. "And you decided to come here?"

"I was not hungry, and this way the inspection team's dog handlers can go to the galley and get some food."

Keeping in a frown, I nodded. There was no reason that Legion working dogs would not be allowed in the galley. And that there were only two of the four dogs that had helped inspect the enemy freighter put lie to her statement. But I would let her have a face-saving white lie. "How kind of you. Such a burden to spend time with such handsome animals."

On the upside, she had decided to spend time with dogs instead of some of the ship's cats. The felines were perfectly fine creatures and skilled at their jobs, but I appreciated the directness of dogs. They were also bigger. Though the working cats some legionary scout units used were elegant, and large enough animals.

Tauria smiled and scratched both dogs on the neck.

I circled around so she wouldn't need to crane her neck. We were not alone with the dogs - there were a few legionaries sitting around a table with raised edges, apparently playing a dice game. For common legionaries, they were admirably skilled at containing their emotions; to my senses, they felt almost flat. One of their little quartet was a Drow and smelled male. That was quite odd - an airborne posting was unusual for someone without wings.

I supposed the Auxilia have some useful skills to justify his place here, instead of down in the mud of some jungle or another. The markings on his uniform indicated he was a combat engineer, which also seemed like an odd specialty for an airborne posting. Still strange specialties and muted emotions or not, they weren't any concern of mine.

After all, both myself and the Countess outranked them, militarily and socially.

"Are you worried about the debrief?"

"Why should I be? Our squadron's casualties were light. Everyone should be back on duty soon," the countess stiffly stated.

"Our squadron was lucky," I allowed. The other squadrons had heavier losses. Though the enemy...

I was unsure. If our performance had displeased the countess she would have made it known. For the moment, I was at a loss as to why she had... sequestered herself. She had taken more damage but it was to ensure GreyDawn could fire her last Lance. In the cold calculus of combat it was a sensible sacrifice.

The blonde gave me a weary look that for a moment made it hard to believe she was a year younger than me. Maybe that was why the quartet of dice playing Legionaries suddenly stank of pity, their emotional muting cracking just a bit. They did not understand the duties that fell upon their social superiors.

I gave a haughty sniff as I pointedly turned away from the Legionaries; we were not some savage broodlings, dominated and drugged to the horns and used as shock fodder. We were young, yes, but we were highly trained cadets given special dispensation for active combat, as a sign of the Imperatrix's personal trust in us.

"I do have some good news," I announced. "Reinforcements have arrived; you really should see it."

"Why?"

My tail swished. "It'll be a good surprise." Seeing the countess here having.... time to herself was trying, but she did have emotions and limits.

"A surprise?" Tauria sighed.

"I suppose it's less... tangible than playing with dogs," I knelt down and let one sniff my hand.

"I like puppies."

I patted the Ondani shepherd who eyed me curiously. "They're bigger than you."

"Puppy," she repeated.

"I can't argue with that," I admitted, noting how stern her expression was. "Is everything alright?"

"Our squadron's injuries were light, and my Flight came off without any casualties. We took out a force or Trosic regulars that outnumbered us three-to-one," she stated.

I felt she was holding back. For her that was normal. "But are you okay? Maybe you can ask the medico for a draught of laudanum?"

The countess stared at me.

"It's not recreational," I huffed. "If it's from a doctor, it's medicinal."

Tail stiff, her expression hardened.

"I'm not suggesting you drip it over a cube of Yomi sugar into some absinthe," I defended.

"Oh? Pixie too weak, you want a full hallucinogen? Why not ask for some Vualian Marching powder to dust the rim of the glass," she dryly remarked.

"Um..."

"I am aware of the recipes Mercy and her wingwoman were swapping over our last R&R. Honestly, you have to learn that soldiers, especially Pilots, exaggerate. A drink like that could easily make you very sick. Really compared to all the other stuff, the wormwood has barely any effect."

I tried to not look bashful. "So... you won't need any?"

The blonde's gaze intensified. "I'll be fine."

I nodded. "But not now?"

She gave me a toothy smile. "You're being bold, Baroness."

I exhaled and stilled my tail. "And I'm having a quiet word with my commander." I lowered my voice and glanced at the Legionaries who were carefully preoccupied with their dice game. "It's just the two of us." There would be no undermining her authority with her Flight and our Squadron.

The countess slowly nodded.

"Tauria, I've known you longer than everyone else in the Squadron. Well... myself and Prefect Quirinus."

She stared at me.

"You've got people to talk to," I stated.

"I am aware of Legion counselors; I have had to talk to them before." The countess then pulled out a couple ship's biscuits and gave them to the dogs who started to happily crunch. "I'm sure that'll help me deal with my emotions," she dryly said.

"But Countess, emotions are for commoners," I loftily said.

She snorted.

I sat down on the other side of one of the dogs from her. "You're distant." I paused. "More distant than normal."

The countess's glare returned. Her gaze was very far for a moment. "I'm just struck by the waste of it all."

I gave her a sympathetic pulse. I knew that was one of her issues. She was an ardent supporter of House BlackSky, and put herself at risk in the Legions, but she also knew that the Legions, Fleet, and Auxilia existed to support and protect the House and Empire.

It was a question of resources: spend directly on the military or invest in growing industry, research, infrastructure, and arcana. Making the Empire more prosperous would allow for more spending for the military and more capability could be built. As the countess explained, it was the classic short term versus medium term versus long term investment issue.

Running a barony, or a county, had similar concerns, if on a much smaller scale. The last correspondence I had with the seneschal I appointed to run my barony while I was deployed, and under age, indicated things were doing well enough. It was hard being a noble without much in the way of family. There was my cousin Lady LavenderFang, but she was even younger than I was.

"I guess the Trosic Armada did take a lot of casualties to try, and fail, at sinking their own illicit freighter." I patted the dog who seemed to be eyeing me a bit less suspiciously.

The tip of Tauria's tail curled.

"It's not that?" I tilted my head.

"Not exactly," Tauria looked down. "Your birthday is in three weeks." It was not a question, the countess had memorized a lot of information about those in the squadron, especially the Pilots, and Ritualista, under her command.

"Yeah?" I was looking forward to my fifteenth birthday. Granted, I doubted we could get away with a weekend pass to somewhere nice, not with us having that beach trip a month ago. And the countess was willing to suffer a birthday at a jungle posting. It was the least we could sacrifice for the House.

My family had sacrificed much: both my mothers and my older sister. Despite all that, the Barony of Lilla was prosperous and well-enough run. It had population and resources and was near good trade borders. Without me... well LavenderFang would grow with time.

The countess sighed. "Our situation is abnormal."

I shrugged. I had been a cadet and been alone since I was twelve and the countess was only a year younger than me. My jealousy of Tauria had turned into admiration.

Her parents had also died for House and Empire. And if a commoner like her could become a noble and run a Flight and a county then I had no room to complain about the obligations of station. If I had to give up the independence of Barony Lilla by making it part of the Duchy of Argenia then I would take that.

I would simply have to make sure that one of my broodlings, sired with my countess of course, was appointed to take my family's Barony, and her line would continue to hold it. In a way I envied the Islander Girl's simplicity. She just had to keep loyalty to the House, Empire, Legions, and the countess. She served diligently and would be rewarded for it.

"We are very good Pilots," I stated.

I could have abdicated and simply been another fantastic ace Pilot. But I would not willingly place such a burden on my little cousin, nor would I risk my barony's subjects being put under someone who was not ready. There was only so much even the most competent a seneschal could mitigate before things started to slip.

"That Baptiste Pilot wasn't." Tauria's voice was quiet as she petted the dogs.

"Which one?"

The Countess exhaled. "At the end, when the rest of the scratch squadron sent to take us had been whittled down to a Flight, she wouldn't surrender. The others made the sensible choice, but not her. Maybe it's because we had killed the rest of her Flight, but instead of surrender, she chose to dive straight into the sea."

I tilted my head. "And?"

The blonde's pout grew. "If she had surrendered, she could have waited until the next prisoner exchange. Such a waste."

I nodded. "Yes, Grand Admiral Trosier did spend a lot getting her trained up, and if she was young she could not have spent much time on missions to recoup that value. Where if she surrendered eventually she would be repatriated and maybe could spend her time and her life in a more useful way for the Armada."

The countess snorted. "Close enough."

I frowned. There was more to life than military service, at least for us. House Trosier was nowhere near as civilized as we were.

"I do have something you might like," I offered.

The countess eyed me. "Did you bring food? Or coffee"

I kept in my frustration. I should have gotten something for her when I was talking to the Islander girl. And she just said she was not hungry.

"We can get that on the way to an observation deck."

The countess tilted her head; her errant blonde bangs bouncing about.

"A Celestial Class arrived," I said triumphantly. The largest class of airship in the Household Fleet was a sight to see.

The Countess seemed appropriately impressed or at least incredulous. "Is..."

I laughed. "No, it's not the Vault of the Heavens. The Imperatrix isn't here or at least her personal flagship hasn't arrived. Interestingly, it's the Lunar Firmament from the Third Fleet."

"Interesting," the Countess flatly said, as she went back to petting the dogs.

"It is." I rallied. "The Celestial Spheres, being detached to Vordurium, has more experience with heavy naval transport and recovery. Maybe it's on some other mission, or under a bit or minor refit. Last I heard, it was on active duty, but these are maintenance-intensive airships. And thus the Firmament teleported down from the quick reaction fleet up on Lantia."

"Wait? What exactly is the Firmament here for?" she seemed to be intrigued.

I popped to my feet. "I can tell you, but that would spoil the surprise."

The countess rolled her shoulders and fluffed her wings. Her feathers were somewhat exotic, but their color combined with her blonde hair and white horns was what gave her a dangerously angelic look.

"You can stay here. It's not like a chance to see a Celestial is all that unlikely." I glanced over. The Legionaries playing dice were hardly the only people I had seen who were off duty and seemed disinterested.

The countess tapped her chin. She looked delicate, with a classic Florentine style, if heavenly, beauty but that was contrasted, no it complemented, her iron will and those sapphire eyes. I wondered if our daughters would have feathers.

"I guess that explains why a fleet carrier of all things was sent in. Taking out a Celestial would be a major blow to our heavy lift capacity," she said.

I nodded. "Not to mention our ability to deploy a whole Legion with one airship."

Between my wings down to the base of my tail chilled as the Countess' cold attention focused on me. "That is the least noteworthy capability of that class. We have many airships that, collectively, can deliver a Legion but few with such an extreme carrying capacity."

"Well, it's not here to deliver a Legion," I said as I quickly stood up.

The countess gave a chill smile. "Oh? Now, you have my attention."

"I can show you!" I assured as my tail swished behind me.

Standing up, she patted the dogs.

` "Who shall watch them?" I asked, spotting a flaw in my plan. The two shepherds looked up at me with perked up ears. They were very well-tempered dogs. That the countess liked dogs did give me some ideas.

"Optio Claudius!" the Countess barked out.

One of the Legionaries looked up from the dice game. She had braided silver hair and looked to be a designated markswoman. "Yes, Primus!"

"Can you watch the dogs of the rest of your Contubernium?"

She relaxed a bit. "Of course, Primus."

The countess spread her hands to me.

She must have read my expression and the unease I was broadcasting.

"Come now, I was watching these good boys so the Optio could concentrate on her game."

I simply nodded along.

"Lead the way, LoveBlood." Giving the dogs a last pat and a set of treats, the countess headed to the main passageway.

"It's not long, just a few frames forward of here," I explained.

"You're familiar with the layout of the Nova Class?"

I tried not to flush at her approval. "I have a basic familiarity with the Fides Fleet size hull that the Novas are constructed from as well as the other basic airship hull sizes."

I could feel the countess's attention on my back between my wings. "Ah. Any concentration on ship types?"

"I'm working my way through all the classes!" I assured. "I'm just focusing on the troopships, Long Range Insertion craft, and RP carries."

I relaxed, feeling her approval. "Good. Keep it up."

Soon, we got to an alcove with ladders that went up and down. There was a hatch on the deck that could seal off to the level below us, and another hatch above us.

"After you," the countess said after waiting for the ladderway to clear. "It is commendable for you to have put in the effort to study such things."

I shrugged and went down. "Most of our airships have a similar overall layout."

"I am aware," I could feel her amusement. "An Embarkation Deck is vital for any Fleet Airship. Where else will you have space for various VTOL, RP, Torpedo, cargo and vehicles to be landed, stored, and launched?" the Countess asked.

I flushed a little bit once we reached the Embarkation Deck. "Yes, but that means that the main deck above this one has to have everything else: all the powerplant, engineering, crew berths, galleys, control, storage of consumables for the airship."

"This isn't an exam, Baroness," the blonde chuckled.

My tail froze. "Of course... but still. Larger airships, like this one, have another deck higher up with yet more berthing and storage. Part of my studies were to find out which airship classes had large enough trim ballast tanks that they could double as..."

The countess let me trail off awkwardly. "Double as?"

"Well... swimming pools," I admitted. "They have to be set up as them, and lack size. There's also saunas and the like."

She chuckled. "Recreation is important, especially for long-duration missions. Doubly so when considering Fleet sensibilities. And I have seen the moral boosting value of swimming."

I tittered at that.

"And above?" the countess asked with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"It's an airship." I dryly said.

"Pretend this is an exam," she stated evenly.

I exhaled. "Well, further up, are the lifting sections and structural frames. That's where the gasbags, Teleportation Runes, warding projectors, dorsal point defenses, many of the propulsion pods, various power trunking conduits and damage control systems are all placed. There's even a dorsal observation deck, but it's about 50 yards above us."

She tsked at me. "You did not fancy a dozen story hike?"

"I did not want to waste too much of your time?" I offered. "Still, there's an irony that we're in an airship, especially a Ritual Plate carrier, and we can't fly inside."

The countess sighed as she followed behind me. "Those would be some very wide passageways to fly in."

I nodded. "I mean, yes..."

"What did you learn? Beyond the basic summary?"

"If something goes wrong up here or an airship gets hit then Damage Control would be an all-hands affair. Fleet Doctrine is well set up and drilled but there's a point where it switches from containment and repair to a delaying action to allow for evacuation." I glanced down at the deck.

The compartment we were in was starboard amidships. It was a storage and standing area with pass-throughs that linked up the VTOL hangar to the aft and the starboard RP Bays forward.

She looked out onto the Well Deck that was inboard on the centerline. The cavernous opening gaped with the Guardia Sea visible thousands of feet below us. In the roof of the Well Deck were a series of overhead cranes that allowed for small airships and large VTOLs to dock and also allowed for the loading and unloading of cargo.

"You raise a good point. Each Household Fleet ship has a layered defense which comes at an expense in power, warding projectors, RP Combat Air Patrol, and escort airships. It all increases survivability. And yet if a hit gets through... I mean that Alecton Howe Class cruiser weathered a lot more damage than one of our airships could."

I nodded. "That's why Fleet Doctrine is to use standoff capability as much as possible."

"And yet precious tonnage is spent on those," the Countess gestured to the overhead cranes. There were a variety of types and capacities. "Not the docking fixtures for airships and heavy VTOLs but the ones that can lower cargo. A bit of a risk, no?

I knew despite her assurances, the countess was still testing me. She was challenging like that. My tail swished, I would not let her down.

"Yes, in a combat zone there are many problems with hovering an airship, lack of supplemental dynamic lift and making a large, relatively slow-moving airship into a low altitude and non-moving target are two biggest. One can use the Well Deck to lob supplies via guided parachute with a bit less risk. But this capacity is mostly for loading and unloading at secure locations, especially bases."

She smiled. "We'll make a logistics Tribune out of you yet, LoveBlood. Please continue. Why not just land an airship at a base?"

I gave my own, somewhat forced, smile. "Sometimes landing is prudent, especially for a long-term docking and a maintenance check. But for a quick loading or unloading, it's less time-consuming to hover near the surface, with or without guide cables. And using the cranes has a greater throughput than using workhorse Umbra Medium VTOLs to ferry supplies."

"Which is the common use for a combat cargo transport?" she asked.

"Yes, the Umbra is useful in that role. It keeps the Motherships safer and it is easier for us Pilots to escort a group of dropships. And... " My tail stilled.

"And?"

"And in your words... both us and medium VTOLs are 'more numerous and less labor-hour and resource-intensive assets'. We're more expendable than a Fleet Airship."

The countess laughed. "Good! Now you understand how logistics is not some dry and dusty subject, it informs our doctrine, strategy, and tactics. And how it ends up with us being sent on risky missions."

I nodded to her. "Still, it does contribute to how Legionaries see Fleet officers," I quietly said as we walked down the compartment.

The countess shook her head at the rivalry between the Houses' two dominant service branches. We went aft and inwards to a set of stairs that went down below the Embarkation Deck. "It is a factor. Though it also can influence how Fleet Pilots see their superiors," she noted in a low voice.

We had arrived at one of the ventral Observation Decks. The platform was only half a deck lower, but the reinforced windows that were angled up from the deck gave a panoramic view. On each of the four sides of the platform were large caissons that held some of the landing jacks.

"What do you know about the mechanisms of landing an airship of this size?" the countess asked.

"I know it's a very carefully done affair that required coordinating hundreds of air spirits and propulsion systems, retracting the airship's ventral aft fins, many of the lower propulsion pods, and extending dozens of landing jacks to take the weight of the airship on the ground," I stated, looking at the reinforced caisson which contain the whole mechanism for extending the landing pads.

"That's a start," she admitted, giving me a somewhat approving look. "Perhaps we should make a study of it. It's fascinating given an airship normally has great control of its buoyancy. Other than major refits, even a landed airship will still retain a fair degree of lift."

I merely gave an agreeable nod and emotional pulse. Doubtless, the countess had already researched the subject looking for flaws in our doctrine, things an enemy could exploit. If not for her skills as a Pilot and aggressive command style, she would be perfect as some dusty researcher in the capital's War College.

The Observation Deck was surprisingly open. I would have expected more people would be enjoying the view.

The atmosphere was fairly quiet on the platform, as the couple Fleet ratings on observation duty gave gimlet looks to any of the other crewwomen who got a bit too loud. The observers were using various binoculars and scopes and had a direct connection to local Flight Ops and the airship's defensive coordinators.

Their main role was to serve as a backup for the Obsidian Corona's scrying systems and to give a live visual confirmation of what was going on around the airship. This was most acute on the observer who was facing aft, quietly giving range readings on a VTOL that was approaching from the stern.

I noted that while the other guests were focused on... well the reason we were here, the countess's attention was on the approaching Umbra and did a scan of the sky and water below us.

Her expression was controlled and her tail moved slowly. For a moment I wondered if it would have been the best to stay with her and the dogs.

After a moment, she turned starboard looked out at gargantuan construct hovering at a lower altitude.

"That is a big airship," the countess admitted, tail still, and a bit of grudging admiration in her voice.

"The largest and heaviest flying object on Diyu," I said with pride.

The Celestial Class was built along the lines of the larger airships in the Household Fleet. Multiple parallel hulls, three in this case, ventral Embarkation Deck, with a central Well Deck, large maneuvering fins, and propulsion pods in the aft.

It was just on a breathtaking scale. Part of its escort, a Mellona Medium Carrier, and a Maul Cruiser were in the vicinity and were, at a quarter the length, puny in comparison.

"It's not quite a white elephant," the countess grumbled, using one of those exotic turns of phrase she would occasionally lapse into. "In terms of expense..."

"There are only four Celestials in class."

The countess shrugged. "I suppose. And there are some things that only one of them can do. But it's just so many resources and value in one location. I mean compared to this ship.. "

I smirked at her implied question and took in the sight before us. "Two thirds of a mile long, the Lunar Firmament is two and a half times longer than the Obsidian Corona."

A couple weathergirls who had also been sightseeing looked over to us.

Preening a bit, I continued. "Using three larger lifting hulls instead of two smaller hulls, it has twice the width and height of this fleet carrier. In many ways, it's easier to think of a Celestial as less an airship and more a mobile garrison and base, given it has a footprint equivalent to... six... eight... city blocks? "

The countess bowed her horns to me.

Her approval was measured, but it was a start.

"It is still a lot of eggs in one basket." A bit of her melancholy at waste and loss crept back into her. I wondered if she would have felt better if I had been the one to kill that final enemy Pilot and saved the countess the trouble.

"Yes, but that has some advantages of scale. That frankly ridiculous size allows for a truly massive airship that has over eight times the gross lift capacity of this fleet carrier."

I pointed to the Alecton Howe class missile cruiser that was steaming on the sea as part of the surface ship compliment. The fires had been put out and the ugly column of black smoke had dwindled to wisps. "The Lunar Firmament outweighs that vessel by a couple thousand tons."

"It's also several times larger," the countess noted. "And a much bigger target. A much more expensive and valuable target."

"But more mobile. And while much of that mass goes structural weight, power, propulsion, crew and crew facilities, fuel, water, provisions, a Celestial has as many RP as the airship we're on, three times as many Torpedoes, plus a Torpedo Bomber squadron."

I gave a fanged smile. "And with enough left-over capacity to move over four thousand tons of supplies. These ships act as mobile depots and with a Teleport Gateway can function as a continually replenished forward staging area."

The countess shook her head. "Four Bacchus Class heavy cargo ships have the same capacity and are far cheaper. Or use two with Atlas Lift Packages. Not to mention, the Fleet has over a hundred Bacchuses. Everything has a trade-off, Baroness. There is no perfect solution. What is the real value of a Celestial? Where does it fit in the Fleet?"

I tried not to fret. "The ventral Well Deck is large enough to act as a mobile dry-dock for any airship smaller than this fleet carrier? A Celestial can also move all but the largest of ships in the Fleet's naval assets such as a submarine pack or transport a Jarngreipr frigate or any other large and oversized bit of equipment. Which gives a high-speed strategic lift capability for transport on Diyu or off-world."

"And cases such as this?" the countess inquired as she looked closer. She glanced over to one of the observers and I could see her ponder on asking for a set of binoculars.

"The Firmament is at a quite low altitude and speed isn't it?"

The countess frowned. "And there are a lot of VTOLs and a few Mulberries doing work right under it." She blinked. "I can't quite make out the flags but... I think there are divers in the water, maybe an AngelShark mini-submarine."

The two Tempestarii tittered. "We're taking a Trosic submarine!"

My tail flicked. The surprise was ruined.

She exhaled. "Bold move. Interesting that the Primus Anchorage had a lifting gantry ready to go."

"Is it?" I put on a coy smirk. "The Celestial has extra heavy lift capacity and from the moon of Lantia can appear anywhere on Diyu. That seems to be an ideal place to store various underwater recovery assets. I did say Voduri was the main place, but 3rd Fleet should have been my next guess. "

Tail swishing, she bowed her horns to me. "Very true. And with a sunk submarine... The coastal waters are fairly shallow here. Yes, there's an intelligence operation to conduct. Good thing we're already on stand-down."
"And maybe a rescue operation?" I asked.
The countess shrugged. "A Murat class pocket submarine carrier has a crew of?"

I blinked as my tail flicked. "About sixty, plus another fifty Ritualista for Demi-Wing of Ritual Plate. Call it a hundred fifty?"

"Three Light Squadrons of nine Baptistes strike suits each escorted by A Squadron of Three Heavy Flights of five Rochefort air superiority each; a standard Trosic Strike Escadron of forty-two RP," The countess absently corrected.

"I know that! I was just fighting them." I huffed. "As a unit made up of multiple squadrons of distinct RP suits, our Demi-Wing is the closest to their Escadron in size and role."

A Demi-Wing could range from four Squadrons to six Squadrons depending on if one was using a Fleet or Legion size of Wing. In terms of overall capacity, the Murat was between one of our light and medium RP carriers, ignoring that our RP carriers were airships and the Murat was a submersible ship.

She bowed her horns to me in apology.

"Well, I doubt any pilots went down with the ship." Her expression warmed. "Don't be too nervous. Our intelligence is an estimate, as it's a newer class. Having one to take apart would be a boon. Especially since one of their Murats got away and that missile u-boat was reduced to small bits of wreckage. I did hear these little subs are quieter than a typical Trosic sub."

I snorted. The Murat was maybe fifty percent heavier than a Wobbegong class, the larger of our House's two main submarine classes. "Fine. House Trosier's submarines are not bad, but they are not as stealthy as ours."

"Being smaller allows for that. And, with a smaller sub fleet, we can afford more stealth systems per boat."

"And the Torsic Armada's new, and smaller classes, were a move in that direction. Still... they have only one Ritualista per RP plus what ten extra? So few maintainers really does limit their operational capability."

"Based on our experience, yes," the countess agreed. "Our thinking is that the decreased hull size would be detrimental to a submarine that has Ritual Plate as its primary offensive weapon. And we have an even higher ratio of Ritualista to Pilots on our subs."

"Our own submarines are the opposite; we use Torpedoes, both the big Fujiwara aerial torpedoes and aquatic Kaitabha torpedoes as our primary weapons while the RP complement is smaller and supplemental." I frowned. Serving on a submarine would be challenging. Beyond the cramped conditions and limited maintenance, launching and recovery were fraught for a variety of reasons. It was galling to admit, but House Trosier might have more experience and capability with amphibious RP launch and recovery.

"Their operational tempo must suffer," I added.

"House Trosier's airship fleet is far smaller than ours and built around a patrol and small-scale air assault. They don't have the scale of airborne carriers we do. And their own large seaborne carriers are formidable but require extensive protection."

"And we can still sink them with a Telephe or Torpedo strike," I smirked.

"Possibly," the countess allowed before going back to the Celestial Class. "It seems the Murat is intended as a relatively inexpensive way to get a respectable strike package near enough to a target, launch said strike, make an attack run then slip away and attack later. I don't think they intend to have them do round the clock missions. That would expose them too much. Meanwhile, our airships require the capability to have a persistent RP defense which requires constant use, which increases the number of Pilots, suits, and Ritualista."

"They sank a Mulberry and damaged that Alecton cruiser but at the cost of, what, half their Pilots and a submarine?"

The countess shrugged. "If that Howe were not here this would be a different story. Or if they just focused on the Howe they could have sunk it. Still it's not a great exchange. There's also the flaw with any RP strike mission. Unless your escorts defeat the target's air assets or you break contact you'll bring the enemy back to your Mothership."

Her face twisted into a frown. "Though I suppose a full Escadron is still cheaper than a Murat."

"They'll learn from it," I spat. "House Trosier hates Alecto enough. I wonder if that's why we're recovering that submarine and pulling off the crew."

"As for the rescue operation, that's what our AngelShark mini-subs are for. And if anyone got out using the escape trunks. It's a bit risky at that depth, but if they have the right hydromancers they could mitigate things." She shook her head.

"It is a waste," I stated, taking a bit to relish the approval from the countess.

In contrast to her feelings, the blonde gave me a sympathetic look as if she did not fully believe me. "Even if you don't value them as thinking beings with intrinsic value, us trading them back to House Trosier can be a diplomatic token. Given, they fired on us and we sank some of their subs." She exhaled. "And nearly killed a wing of their pilots.

"This wasn't even the largest submarine that was sunk."

"No, but it's the one that has survivors on it."

"Who doubtless sabotaged everything of value we could learn."

She waved a hand. "Yes, yes, codebooks, communications systems, and critical artificer tools. They might even scuttle the whole sub, have the last officer blow a magazine and go down with the ship."

"It's a risk," I soberly stated. "Vengeful Trosic curs. They fight for dominion while we fight for honor."

I felt her incredulity spike before she got herself under control. "Each of us fights for what she lacks the most," the countess murmured.

I gave her an inquiring but respectful look and emotional pulse.

"Ah, LoveBlood, an officer of the Armada is many things but she sees herself as upholding the will, the word, of her Grand Admiral. Before we rescued the crew, we would make a deal for the captain, or the senior surviving officer's parole. If she breaks that parole by scuttling her boat?"

I gasped. "They could do such a base thing?"

"Perhaps, especially if a Minor House were trying to take their ship. That would be an insult to their pride. And by letting them destroy any truly sensitive documents, we let them save face." The countess shook her head. "The only thing worse than these games of polite fiction atop a bloody-handed war is a war without them."

My tail curled in curiosity. The countess was a student of history, and not just that of Diyu.

"Do you think that will work? Letting House Trosier keep some of their honor?" I nearly spat out the last word.

"Possibly, or maybe these were the first shots of a Fourth Great House War." She knelt down. "I almost want to sign out my suit and try to get part of a patrol that'd be closer. But it's still being patched up. Optio Gibbs will insist on inspecting the Fleet Ritualista's work."

"You won't be able to get close; a Celestial has a pretty large restricted airspace," I noted.

Tail curling, she nodded. "Ah, there goes the lifting gantry."

We watched with the others as a long crane-like structure with several pairs of grasping arms along its length lowered out of the bottom of the Lunar Firmament. It was about a thousand feet long and the size of a mobile drydock.

A cluster of Ritual Plate was around it at a safe distance, helping guide it to the cleared patch of water. Slowly, inexorably, it sank beneath the waves

"The stabilization required to keep the crane, cabling, and airship from drifting off target." The countess shook her head, but I could feel her gratitude to me.

I quirked a smile. The strangest things impressed her. But the important part was that I had found one, and got to experience it with her. I had learned much from my time with the countess, lessons that would prove well for our future together.


++++++

I stepped outside into the hot, bright light and wished I had my hat on. I know the floppy sun-hat was seen by many of my squadron as a silly affectation, but it was practical. Still, I was a Volantes Prefect Centurion in command of an elite squadron and I did have to project the proper values of an Imperial Legion senior Centurion.

This was especially true for the two youngest members of my squadron. I had managed to train those nobles from cadets to combat Legionary Fliers and had seen them handle a hitch in a somewhat unpleasant posting. Though there were worse places to be than a FOB in some Crocelli jungle.

But they would learn that. Right now, I would let them enjoy being back on a well-provisioned base. Though, this collection of barracks, bunkers, hangars, runways, and tarmacs was not exactly a scenic place. It did have enough facilities, and a local town, that our baroness could have a belated birthday celebration. Which would double as the squadron's "going home" party.

I was a supporter of the cadet program. It was a great way to grow talent and build a cadre of Pilots who would have more training time that would serve them well when they were old enough for active duty. It was useful when, for whatever reason, the Pilot Corps found a need to expand or had a shortage of Flight Leaders.

However, I had opinions on the subject of letting such cadets join active service at a younger age. As a general matter, it undercut the primary aims of the cadet program, giving pilots more experience, and cut into the supply of new Pilots. Used en masse, it was like eating one's seed corn. Yes if one had to, one may avoid immediate starvation, but at the cost of the next year's crop.

And yet, giving a bare handful of cadets special dispensation to an early active posting would not make a statistical difference. The Imperial Legions needed about six hundred new Pilots every year. With that much grist for the mill, what did it matter if a couple cadets were dropped in early?

While my approval was not required, the brass horns did talk to me about the Countess and the Baroness. The propaganda value of her exploits aside, including her ennoblement, I could have stopped all this with a negative review on their performance.

I paused to glance up as a couple VTOLs came in and went to slow and land. I was approaching a cluster of buildings that served as an arcade. There were a few shops, a Legion and Fleet bank, a few proper restaurants, and even a couple guild-bonded brothels.

But I had trained DiamondDust. I might not know what she was capable of, but I had a better idea than anyone else. Which was why I made sure she was under my command.

I will not deny that there were other considerations. Being adopted by a duchess, one who was a patron of many pilots and had her own mercenary squadron and other interests meant I have to consider other issues when dealing with young DiamondDust. It was not without upside. Her innovative interpretation of regulations and connections meant I was able to upgrade my Squadron from half Polydora suits to all Polyxo.

Some amount of court politics was inevitable in the Legions, but it was a bit more acute among Ritual Plate Pilots. Part of it was that it was a high status position, both in rank, the lowest Pilot was a Centurion, and social status. There was a reason cadets were disproportionately nobles or had noble patrons.

The countess was a prime, if exceptional example, of how patronage, skill and glory could turn into lands and a title. Doors had been opened to her. Granted, much of that was due to her drive and ability, but being a countess, with all that entailed, and a bearer of the Preserver Crown gave her that extra push. Additionally, that DiamondDust had gotten the attention of multiple Librarians, and a Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance Officer gave her yet more avenues of networking.

Invidia was a snake, but in a way that was more honest than the Librarians who used masks of perky smiles. Adjusting the leather valise, I exhaled. That was not my concern. I had done my best to mentor Primus DiamondDust, I had a lot of help, and I felt the results were better than I feared. Though now, she was going off to Silvana where she could make yet more connections.

I did wonder if the assignments of my squadron, mostly Minor Houses south of Diyu, was in part to keep DiamondDust in active, respectable, but somewhat obscure postings. Helping protect a series of mines and a refinery complex to ensure that Standard Alchemical Products and Alecton Duraluminum had a steady supply of rare metals critical for the production of military enchantments was important but it was not something that would make you a darling in the capital.

I smiled. Well, from my experiences in Silvana, the quiet but important salons and gentlewoman's clubs would find our efforts here to be very useful. So-called Sword Nobles, mistresses of industry, and officers who understood logistics were the reason we were out here after all.

As I got closer, the smell of fruitwood and charcoal became more prominent. It was a pleasant contrast from the alchemical stink that was around most air bases. We had been spending more and more time here as my Squadron's term was ending.

We did periodically return to FOB EmeraldInferno, especially to give follow-up training to the Squadron that had replaced mine. They were skilled enough, and the lesson plan, complete with intel briefings, procedural updates, and training scenarios, DiamondDust had come up with should hold them in good stead.

My subordinate even had the good grace to restrain her prideful reaction when I informed her that the in-theater Volantes Tribune had agreed to propagate her training supplement to all the Legion Pilots under her.

It was another ribbon in her hair. And I was relieved that a nine-month slog of a jungle posting, including the mess last month when a simple merchantman interdiction turned into open combat with Trosic Ritual Plate, had not eroded Primus DiamondDust's adherence to proper procedure.

She had performed her usual best in splintering the enemy attack and, along with Mercy's Flight, stripping the strike force of escorts, though not without some trauma accumulation.

I stepped up to what was a reasonable simulacrum of a cafe. The chairs and tables were all mismatched and the sliding doors that linked the interior to the patio section were obviously reclaimed from another building. But the smell of coffee, of frying meat, a smokehouse, and pastries was welcoming. There was a metal drum oil smoker to the side of the building merrily puffing out clouds of fragrant smoke. Centurion Shadow was right, DiamondDust was here, but she was not alone.

The diminutive Pilot perched on a metal chair that despite being the smallest in the house was too large for her. In contrast, her companion's chair, the largest there in the ramshackle cafe, was too small for the massive shaggy-pelted Forest Person wedged between the armrests.

Ah, so she was saying her goodbyes to the Auxilia Scout she had befriended. I waited at a respectful distance as it seemed they were wrapping up. I wondered if it was a personal matter or something that dealt with how the Auxilia, Lares I believe he was named, lived within DiamondDust's county.

It was good that she was balancing the responsibilities of her stations. I was bestowed an honor name for gallantry, I was not burdened with any lands to administer, and that was something I was glad for. While my responsibilities to the House have increased, I was not eager to get further involved in the games of nobility.

However, I would not spurn the advantages such connections would bring. DiamondDust's wrangling and trading did upgrade my squadron. And those Polyxo suits were a considerable factor for me losing as few Pilots as I did in this posting. Her help with the squadron's training in general and the performance of Flight 3 in particular were also great benefits.

I would miss them.

Lares had stood up and I kept my surprise in as they shook hands. Physical contact, even for a farewell denoted a closeness that was... unexpected. Yes, DiamondDust was a terrifying little thing, but she was always within the letter of regulations. Moreso this was another bit of evidence that she did have emotions and could get close to people. That was reassuring; it was rare but there were some among our kind utterly without empathy. Many could function well enough in a combat role. That is until they did not.

She had bonded well with the other members of her Flight. That was not surprising. She had been a cadet with, and in the same ballet troupe as, the baroness. They had grown comfortable over time, and even the young Pilot from Amber Island did little to derail that. Even GreyDawn, an obviously sober, experienced voice, had helped gel the Flight into an effective formation. Though she did seem amused by the antics of the young noble Pilots. I know GreyDawn had made a fair amount of coin wagering on that and other actions.

Including the various schemes that DiamondDust came up with.

Maybe this was part of one of the countess's business plans. She had made mention of mushroom farming, fisheries, and other novel ways to get some extra business for her county. I did note a bit of trepidation on the Forest Person's part.

It was amusing; he towered over her and could effortlessly pick the little blonde demon up, and yet he was utterly respectful of her, and as cautious as if she were live ordnance. No... as if she were old munitions, improperly stored old munitions, that had started to sweat-out the more evocation-based alchemical components and had acids start to eat the stabilizers.

I could not fault him for his caution. But I still had a tiny smile as he gave a head bow to her, which she returned and then walked away, just slow enough to make it look like he was not fleeing her.

I gave the young countess a few moments to collect herself before I approached

Her wings fluttered with a bit of shock when she noticed me, but she recovered her composure admirably. "Prefect Centurion Quirinus, what can I do for you?" she said as she got to her feet and saluted.

She wore the tropical variant of her dress blacks. The shorts did give some relief in the heat, though combined with the tall boots she wore and the long-sleeved tunic with cuffs only folded up to mid-forearm did have her match the regulations perfectly. On her short frame, it made the young pilot look faintly absurd and more like she was a still a cadet or wilderness camper dressed for a jamboree.

There was a reason many RP Pilots took to wearing a field jacket over their inner flight suit even in situations where it was technically against regulations. On the upside, DiamondDust was no martinet; at a FOB or other deployable position she would dress practically, citing regulations allowing for readiness status. However that meant other times she would dress up with full polish, pins, and ribbons.

It was to her advantage that the Crown of the Preserver only needed to be worn as a crown with the most formal of uniforms. Under most other cases the award could be worn as a choker clasp.

Keeping a sober face, I returned the salute. "Just a moment of your time," I said, before flagging down a waitress and asking for some coffee for myself. Despite just having had brunch, the meat from the smoker was tempting.

"Of course," DiamondDust said in a professional tone that was at odds with her youthfulness and diminutive size. "May I ask what this is about, Ma'am?

I put the valise on the ground and pulled out a slim portfolio. "We both know you have a future in the Legions."

Despite her calmly sipping her drink, DiamondDust's tail flicked about wildly. "I serve the House to the best of my abilities."

I dropped the portfolio in front of her. "This is an informal talk so there's no need for false modesty." The waitress came back and gave me a cup. I bowed my horns to her and drank some of the coffee. Unlike the countess, I was fine with the mid-grade stuff which in this case was some surplused Fleet Issue.

She exhaled. "What is this about?"

"An offer for your next posting." I pushed the portfolio to her .

There was the most tiny bit of hesitation before she opened it. Her eyes scanned the text of the memo and looked at the seals and despite her emotional self control I could feel... resignation. "The Imperial War College," she stated, with a thoughtful aspect.

I sipped the coffee. The brass-horns thought that was a good step before promotion, and I knew that the countess had a couple Legates very interested in her development even without her family's connections. "Read on."

DiamondDust flipped to the next pages and found more similar memos. "My whole Flight is being reassigned?"
"Temporary secondment to the capital's garrison forces, including your Ritualista."

The blonde closed the folder. "I see."

"Do you?"

She gave me a wry look that belied far more experience than she should have, even counting what she had seen in the last two years or so. "Aye, Prefect. When an entire Flight is sent to Silvana to attend the War College and is kept together it gives a strong implication."

I simply gave a small smile. A Flight Leader and her three Pilots could be readily promoted into a cadre of Squadron Commander and three Flight Leaders. Eight line Pilots added to that would make a Squadron. It would require a degree of training, but it was a way to bulk out a Flight into a Squadron.

"I do wonder about GreyDawn. She is a career Volantes Centurion. Will she accept a promotion to Primus Centurion?" DiamondDust opened the portfolio and flipped to a specific memo. "Ah."

"Indeed," I smiled. "What do you make of it?"

"As much as that development track suits GreyDawn's skillset, it does raise questions."

I motioned for her to continue.

"Visha and LoveBlood will make good Flight Leaders. And GreyDawn's temperament is suited to the Aquilifer senior Centurion track. However..."

Noting her use of nicknames and the bit of emotional uncertainty she was letting out, I drank some more coffee. "Yes?"
"First, this means I would need a third Flight Leader. Hypothetically, I'm not being presumptive enough to think I'll be promoted and given a squadron command after War College." The blonde gave a pensive drink.

"I said this was an informal meeting." I snorted. "And your input would be key in finding a third Primus who would fit into your command style."

DiamondDust bowed her horns to me. "Yes, Ma'am. The other part is from two aspects. Namely, a squadron is too small of a formation for a Signifer, let alone an Aquilifer. Specialized senior Legion Flier postings like that are attached to Wings, Demi-Wings at the smallest."

I gave an amiable nod but let the silence draw out.

"The other part is that these orders keep me in the 23rd Imperial Legion Air Group and include mentions of continuing training and coordination with 5th Squadron and successor formations."

I emptied my cup. "Quite so."

"Prefect Centurion, should I be congratulating you on your pending promotion?"

My tail swished. "That may be presumptive. However, if I am to make Tribune, I would want my Squadron Commanders to be of the highest caliber."

"Even a Demi-Wing would have four to six squadrons..." She tapped the portfolio. Any resistance or resignation to her new assignment evaporated in the contemplation of fitting-out a unit. "And a Legion Demi-wing is a flexible formation that can supplement a lot of Landing Operations."
"And you have shown the flexibility of an advanced multi-role squadron, especially in the right hands."

Her expression turned calculating. "I can see the mutual benefit. If we assume the promotions and assignments happen."

"If we assume that." I pulled up the corner of my mouth. There was a lot she was not stating. Such as her star rising meant that mine, as her mentor, could rise as well. Not that I was not without my own patrons and honors. I did have some trepidation. Squadron Command had a good amount of tactical authority but was not overly burdened with paperwork and politics. On the other wing, a Volantes Tribune was firmly a staff position under a Legion's Legate.

However the part she was, oh so politely, taking extra care not to state was that continuing to be my subordinate meant she would be both under my supervision and aegis. And that her inner circle was being retained to form the core of her own squadron while also expanding her base of support. Combat losses could affect that. Though a capital posting would be relatively safe.

If anything, it was more likely that I could be killed in action. Death was a part of being in the Imperial Legions. Hence, the dissemination of training skills and the promotion and encouragement of leadership talent. In war redundancies were vital. And while the Countess was a very skilled pilot and officer, that merely meant she was a more flexible cog in the House's war machine. It was simple pragmatism to extract the best value out of her talents.

DiamondDust sipped her drink. Nodding, she smiled, her blonde hair bobbing about. "It's a sensible plan. It is not like I could languish in an obscure posting, not with... everything." There might have been a ghost of a wistful tone in her voice.

I noted her trepidation. "Are you concerned about a rear echelon posting not being exciting enough?"

She snorted. "Unlike our baroness, I'm no war maniac; I can appreciate a boring billet."

I gave her an indulgent smile. She was covering up her.... trepidation with a stoic resolve.

DiamondDust shook her head. "Even if I were... wouldn't giving me training and more authority just encourage things?"

"Perhaps," I allowed. The War College would do more than just supplement her training; the instructors would evaluate her command capabilities. There was a chance they might not like what they found.

The blonde looked at her coffee and closed the portfolio. "At least I'm not being rushed."

I snorted. "You're still on track to be one of the youngest squadron commanders. Not counting battlefield promotions."

The countess gave a tired chuckle. "Well, the Legions do have me for no more than sixteen more years."

"And they're going to get the most out of it," I assured, not believing for a moment that the little blonde demoness would simply take an honorable discharge and walk away from all this.

End Chapter 15

Things are looking up for Tauria... right? She's getting a nice rear posting in the imperial capital. She should be happy.

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

Special thanks to Readhead for the chapter title, it comes from Ensiferum's song One with the Sea, where the chorus and the overall lyrics are rather on point.



Update: I've been going through a revision project for this story and all preceding chapters have had some editing cleanup done to put them to a bit higher level of polish.