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

[Sunshine Temple]

So some good news. Ch37 is making good progress and should have a release before the month is out. Ch38 is on the penultimate scene with 9k words written.

I also have some work on a new bit of Legionary kit: the Stiletto recoverable, but attritable, air combat golem. It is compatible with existing Fujiwara Heavy aerial torpedo launchers, transports, and storage, and can carry up to four Konoe Light Torpedoes (or equivalent munitions).

---

First by Lexi Kimble, we have a beach party of Tribune Quirinus (standing) with two of her squadron leaders Julia (2nd Squadron; left) and Fabia (4th Squadron; right)

Fullsize​

---

Next by PlayerError404, Tauira and VioletBlood in fancy dress.

Fullsize​

---

And by Tiffanymarsou, Imperatrix BlackSky in her regalia

Fullsize​

---

Also by Duchess SilverFlight and two of her neko maids by Lexi Kimble

Fullsize​

---

And also by PlayerError404 we have The Fox Family; seated Reinhild and Uwe with Brabant chasing her daughter Phalia (who has the eggs and is being very helpful)

Fullsize​

---

And finally, Tauria doing a mobility test of her new Polyxo Ritual Plate, much to VB's delight by Scitty Kitty

Fullsize​

 

[RogueInquisitor]

Next by PlayerError404, Tauira and VioletBlood in fancy dress.

Fullsize​

Click to shrink...

Not sure why Tauria looks so uncomfortable here. She finally got to wear pants. Is it the wedge heels?

 

[ScarletFox]

Not sure why Tauria looks so uncomfortable here. She finally got to wear pants. Is it the wedge heels?

Click to shrink...

Best guess is a social function of some sort in which she will have to defer to Violet far to much for her liking. Also the heels ^_^

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Not sure why Tauria looks so uncomfortable here. She finally got to wear pants. Is it the wedge heels?

Click to shrink...

Best guess is a social function of some sort in which she will have to defer to Violet far to much for her liking. Also the heels ^_^

Click to shrink...

Yah it's that she has to deal with VioletBlood being extra *on* for this event. It's funny as I thought about commenting to the effect of "even in pants, Tauria finds things can still frustrate her". Heh.

 

[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.

Interim Fanfiction and Fanart

C&C as always is wanted.

Book 2: "More Than a Shadow"
Chapter 17: Future Considerations

The forests of County Larium raced far below us as I flew at mother's wing. Despite our supersonic speeds, the clouds seemed to drift above us, moving with the stately procession of some grand, ephemeral fleet.

"Status check," my Duchess asked over our common channel. The suit-to-suit data feed only gave her my suit's overall condition.

"Systems are green across the board," I confirmed after looking over the status board. My Polyxo's power systems steadily hummed as my Zephyr shot me through the air and the aeroshell of my wards held. The suit gamely took to the high speed without complaint. "And propulsion output is fine, all temperatures and power flows are nominal."

Mother purred happily. "Excellent. With turning radius, climb rates, and now high speed cruise I think we can close out the flight check."

"Confirm," I replied in the affirmative. During the flight we had gone down a checklist of increasing complexity. What had started out with basic suit functionality had stepped up bit by bit.

Flying at the heels of mother's Harmonia, I understood why Gibbs had chosen the air-superiority configuration for my Plate. The Polyxo was hardly a slow suit, even on a poor day or sub-optimal configuration, but it was principally designed with an eye towards versatility as a multi-role platform, deft at wearing any of a variety of hats as the situation demanded. The Harmonia, on the other hand, was purpose built for this kind of aerial ballet, and its breathtaking acceleration and needle-tip turns demonstrated as much.

"Reducing airspeed to Mach Zero Point Seven Five on the following mark," Mother transmitted.

"Understood," I replied.

"Mark," said Mother, and the enhanced optics of my suit let me catch the flaps and feathers on her person flaring slightly, rapidly bleeding off her velocity as they caught the air.

"Mark aye." I carefully flared my own wings and felt the tug of the wind, perfectly keeping distance with Mother's suit. The airspeed indicator spiraled down and the power systems stabilized at a lower output.

"Daughter, perhaps we can check out some of your suit's limits?" my Duchess inquired, her tone light.

I tried to keep the concern out of my voice as my mind spun back to a certain someone else all too eager to test the limits of my equipment, "If you insist…"

Mother laughed. "Oh Honey, I'm hardly going to break your new suit. Trust your mother on this, won't you? I just think we deserve to stretch our wings a bit – all within the flight envelope, of course."

"Well…" Some part of me was still hesitant, but it was hard to deny the words of an expert in the field. I was probably just being unreasonably defensive after my experiences with the likes of Schugel. "I suppose that should be alright."

"Excellent," Mother gave an almost predatory purr. "One moment, I'll update with Bovitar ATC."

"Understood," I said, stealing a sip of water as I went over the suit's systems one more time. It was practically luxurious to be in a new suit.

I had few doubts that the local air traffic control would be fine with nearly any modification to our logged flight plan. In this part of Eastern Province, no air controller was going to critique a pair of noble pilots out for a flight. As long as we didn't stray into any commercial flight paths, impede any military assets, or cross any borders, the sky was ours.

That last proviso was surprisingly challenging not to do accidentally. True to its name, Eastern Province was the House's easternmost point, and bordered House Andromache to the north, House Luxon to the east, and the Gaudia Sea to the south. Borders, consequently, were present in abundance.

"Sending navigational update," Mother stated, a strangely coy edge to her voice. I wondered what she had in mind.

"Aye," I said, accepting the pulse as my map display refreshed. The route seemed normal, almost all casual cruising across a large region and through a range of altitudes.

Dutifully following my Duchess as she began her chosen track, I adjusted my heading to the south and, for the sixth time, dashed out of the boundaries of my domain and into County Aberdeen.

Craw Holler flew past below us. Out from it the rail line went, plunging off southbound in an absurdly straight line for Switchbend and various other destinations along the way. Construction on the line had halted to facilitate the urgent inspections of all the various bridges, grades, stations, switches, and even coaling and water towers, to make sure they were actually up to code.

For no particular reason, of course.

Not that any of that frantic work was discernible from the viewpoint offered by a casual flyby. I could have tapped into the more precise Scrying equipment on the Polyxo, expressly designed for this kind of high altitude recon work, but I already knew what I would find, and I had better things to set my eyes on. Besides, I had done earlier overflights with my Vs to collect such to use in the railway project.

In the distance, I could see Bovitar, with the city, river, Legion, and Fleet Base spreading out in a vast colony squatting upon the plains. Beyond it, the rest of the province stretched on to the horizon. Sweeping my attention, both visual and scrying, across the tableau, I felt I could see the works of the hands of demons upon the entire face of Diyu.

"Busy sky," Mother noted as we neared the province's pillar settlement. That was a bit of an understatement, considering the multitude of dots that swarmed and danced in the distance, but I doubted she was referring to the busy commercial traffic out of Bovitar or even the Fleet operations to the south of the city.

Instead, she must have been referring to the flickering constellation of a multi-Squadron sized training flight flashing by a couple hundred miles to the east of us, out over Luxon Minor.

An exclave on the northern shore of the Great Bazala Lake, Luxon Minor consisted of their land border with Andromache and part of their border with our House. It was a valuable position for Luxon; their clawed grip on both sides of the great lake and mastery over its largest island gave them great authority over that body of water and all the traffic that passed above and atop it.

Should push come to shove, it was highly likely that Luxon would attempt to leverage that control to throttle our eastern trade.

Today, though, Luxon was using their airspace only as a venue for training flights.

"It looks like they're practicing strike missions versus combat air patrols," I noted.

"Likely elements from the Third Strike Wing out from their capital versus the Sixteenth Guards Wing from the Oaris garrison," Mother noted.

I had to agree. The largest city and port on Luxon Minor, Oaris was a major trade link between Luxon and Andromache, and from there, much of the rest of Diyu. Consequently, its garrison was heavily reinforced and highly trained.

As my Duchess updated Castra Bovitar, I took a moment to hydrate before supplementing her report with a few additional details. While we called in our observations, the cloud cover over our heads increased. Eventually it became fully overcast, with flurries whipping past our wings.

I listened with half an ear as Mother concluded the rest of her duties to the House. On the one wing, it was important work that I would be following in the footsteps of. On the other, it was work that I was no stranger to, and flying high above the clouds on this cold and snowy day, it was a siren song that called my mind to drift.

Out of the corner of my vision, I saw Mother give a decisive nod, flare her wings, then abruptly rocket toward me on a sudden intercept.

Instincts carved into my bones whipped into place.

I snap maneuvered to evade and put full power to my wards as I spiraled off course.

A thunderous crack ripped through the air beneath me, as Mother's supersonic trajectory crossed mine.

I flared my wings, catching the howling winds and trying to get an angle on Mother as we screamed by.

The Harmonia suit curved, taking a path that prevented me from getting a clean shot.

Not that I would.

Our suits hadn't been switched into training mode so we could not safely fire upon each other.

Which made this impromptu training a bit strange. "Mother?" I transmitted , keeping the strain of the G forces out my voice with practiced effort.

"Come, Daughter," my Duchess laughed as she maneuvered into position for another roaring flyby. The Harmonia was a formidable challenge, even more in the right talons. "Despite your quite correct statements against duelist mistresses of the air, I know you are... curious to cross swords with me."

I paused for a moment. I wanted to disagree with Mother. However, on the other wing, I wanted to keep flying with her, and wanted to keep learning from her.

My response was to push my Zephyr and accelerate past her.

I felt the spirits of wind dance along my feathers, humming a song that grew into howling, infectious joy.

Mother twisted her Harmonia, her vector rapidly changing as she moved into pursuit.

Looping my trajectory and pushing my Veils, I worked my evasion. Keeping track of Mother's position relative to mine, I did my best to keep her from getting a scrying fix with her Ballista.

I managed to last for a few turns until Mother clicked the comm channel to signal she could have tagged me. Mother rocketed past and it was now my turn to chase.

In blunt honesty, it was not a fair fight. The Polyxo was far from a poor machine. Indeed, it was designed to work almost as well in air-to-air mode albeit with less overall acceleration and rate of climb. I had better scrying systems, and the Polyxo was a bit better maneuvering in the low velocity regime. Combined with my smaller size, in the right conditions I could pull out the edge.I even spent many years training against Harmonia pilots, including the pilots of Caenis's First Squadron.

However, while the Polyxo was able to thrive in the skies, the Harmonia was built to own them. And for all Legate Quirinus was an expert of aerial combat, it was clear that Mother was its mistress. I had known that, intellectually, going into this. But after so many years since we'd last flown together, I'd forgotten just how much of a true terror Mother could be in her Domain.

Whipping through the increasing snowfall and cloud cover, I managed to take the initiative a few times. Only a few.

In this moment, against Mother, I was starkly reminded of the gap between our levels of experience. Even with three years in service as a Legionary Flier, and all the cheating that my prior life as an aerial mage for Germania fighting the Great War could grant me, Mother still had decades of experience blooding her fangs over me. Every twist of the wing, every flick of my tail, every burst of my Zephyr, all of it had me digging deeper and deeper into my bag of tricks as we spiraled through the skies around each other.

Further, Mother used her physical advantages including a greater wing area, the ability to shift her greater mass to change her inertia, and was able to use her longer tail with its larger fins to twist in the air with great alacrity.

However, I was also trying to use every edge I had. While I was more diminutive, that gave some advantages. I was more flexible, I was a smaller target, the same amount of thrust moved me further and faster, and while my wings were smaller than mother's, they were still large for my size, which meant I had less wing-loading per area than she did.
All I had to do was just do more snap accelerations taking sudden high G loading from all sorts of vectors. Thankfully, I was wearing a new and freshly-fitted suit. The Mark 16 Zeta Block seemed to be everything MuArc Amalgamated had promised. At least in the specialized, limited-application, and vainglorious task of one on one close air combat.

Were it so easy, I gasped out a breath, pulling through a turn that all my magic only barely kept me from blacking out. Thrust burning, Zephyr roaring, feathers flaring, all of them to twist me into a tight turn to be exactly where I needed to be.

It was the kind of maneuver Mother simply couldn't have pulled off.

It was also something she'd seen coming from a mile away.

The moment I completed the burn, I saw, too late, the gleam of her horns, and I realized with the click of her comms signal that I'd merely stepped into another one of her many traps.

Still, I was happy to merely be able to keep up at all, and even regain the initiative a few times, against someone with Mother's skill.

"End Ex," Mother transmitted as her speed slowed and she took to a steady heading and angle of attack.

"Confirm," I transmitted, thankful that I did not sound out of breath. Going by the wet feeling of the wrap on my forehead and neck, my inner flight suit had absorbed a bit of sweat. Steadying my own flight path, I took a drink from my water tube.

"Excellent work, daughter," she said, pride evident in her voice.

"Thanks!" I grinned, adrenaline high still burning bright. "You were right; it was great to do some flybys."

"Yes, next time I must remember to have our suits set in training mode so we can do proper air combat and gunnery training," Mother stated.

"That would be good. Maybe next time my Vs can participate," I offered.

My Duchess chuckled. "Yes, they are good pilots and you are right to be proud of them."

"It's not like that..." I coughed as I took position flying at Mother's wing. It wasn't like I wanted to show off to Mother how skilled my fiancees are.

"I'd be honored to train all three of you," Mother assured before the map display updated. "Here's our new course and heading."

Turning around, we flew off on a northern heading. Instead of returning to County Larium, though, our course was to the northwest.

If we continued far enough in that direction, we would eventually fly over a broad peninsula protruding into Lacus Superum.

But before we got to the Ranche Peninsula, we would reach Mother's castle, almost certainly our actual destination. While uncertain about what she had in mind, I was still excited at the prospect of visiting the centerpiece and seat of her power. Contemplating the possibilities of what she could have waiting there for me gave me something to think about as the flight wore on and the cloud cover increased.

"Reducing altitude by five thousand feet," Mother transmitted, her first transmission in ten minutes.

"Confirm," I replied, joining her in stooping below the gathering clouds.

No longer entirely hemmed in by mist and fog, the sky around us brightened a bit as the broad vistas of Mother's province swam back into sight. Though, the increased precipitation had become quite obvious. Looking down at the forests and harvested fields, I could see that the snow had started to accumulate.

"It's lovely," Mother absently noted as she surveyed her domain.

I could only agree.

Our speed lessened to an almost leisurely glide, at least by Ritual Plate standards. We were still flying faster than any normal person could hope to under her own wing-power.

Freshly trimmed in white powder, the hamlets and homesteads moving below us looked picturesque, complete with smoke curling out of chimneys.

The roads had sparse traffic, mostly the occasional bus, lumber truck, or sturdy farm car. Their Stirling engines puffed out thin wisps of smoke in the chill air.

Our flight took us over a meandering river. Where it separated two small villages, each little more than a cluster of buildings around a square, I spotted a group of people flying over the un-bridged river. I'll admit to having some slight nerves watching the procession, given the relative weakness of unpowered flight, and the risk of going into the cold water.

But the only issue the brood had with their crossing was scaring up a flock of dark birds.

"Mother, what will we be doing when we arrive?" I transmitted.

"I wanted to talk about some Sabers Watch gifts," My Duchess admitted, seeming almost embarrassed.

"Oh?" I wondered what sort of gifts would justify all this skullduggery. From long ingrained habit, I kept scanning my display, the sky, and the terrain around us. We were alone up here, if you didn't count the flocks of birds.

"It's for your fiancee and your mistress. I don't want to give them something that overshadows any of your gifts, or put any pressure on you," Mother explained.

I took a moment to gather a reply. Just what kind of gifts does she have in mind? She can't be shy about anything like the cost, if she's willing to grant me a new suit of Ritual Plate for my Birthday, so it has to be something more nuanced.

Instead of voicing any of that, however, I merely asked, "What were you thinking of?"

"Some jewelry that's been in the family, but it might be a bit presumptuous," Mother replied with a casual air that gave little away.

"I'm sure it's no trouble, but since we're on the way, we can check," I agreed, feeling a bit of relief. Visha had little fixation on such baubles, and while LoveBlood was much the opposite, she knew my gift giving preferences trended more towards the practical.

One upside was that such gifts were likely to be small enough that we could carry them inside our suits on the flight back. Though, sending two RP suits to pick up some jewelry was a fantastically expensive way to go about such an errand.

Then again, I suppressed a sigh, I suppose it's far from the most ludicrous way I've heard of the nobility and brass horns burning money by the barrel for expediency. It's not like I didn't have to run a few frivolous errands for the Brass back in Germania too…

"Glad to hear it daughter, and we can-" Mother paused, and her tone became more serious. "Daughter, your scrying array is more advanced. Kindly execute, a passive sweep to the west, absolute bearing three-hundred-four degrees, range approximately five miles."

"Confirm," I replied, and focused the intake into my Scrying suite. A moment passed as the ground clutter cleared out of the display.

"Birds," I stated. "A rather large flock of them. Dense, too."

"A bit odd, but hardly unheard of for this time of year," Mother replied, though there was lingering concern in her voice.

"Flock is breaking up now," I added, unsure myself. Something tingled in the back of my mind, and I adjusted the data feed to focus on a specific profile. "Processing sensor intake. Huh." My disquiet grew as several new icons popped up on the map. I kept my voice straight. "Sharing returns."

"The crows are certainly out today," Mother dryly noted.

"I'm tracking at least half a dozen flocks. None as large or dense as the one you spotted. Most are actually rather spread out and quite a bit smaller."

"And flying among waterfowl and other birds," my Duchess added, her voice thoughtful. "But when highlighted like this, the pattern stands out."

"Should we report to Castra Bovitar?" I suggested. We were a border province, and suspicious activity could be anything from reconnaissance to prelude to an attack. Adding to my worry was that I had seen more crows and ravens, especially around Jopecott.

"We could still be chasing shadows, but we should investigate," Mother concluded before informing Bovitar ATC of their change in heading. "Veils up."

"Veils up, aye," I confirmed as I put power into my suit's active camouflage system. "Increasing separation," I added as I slowed and adjusted my heading.

One's relative position to your wingwoman depended on many factors, from airspeed to altitude to mission role. In close combat, one wanted to maximize mutual support, where an interceptor role would have further distance to allow for more Scrying coverage, while also sharing defensive capability.

For a reconnaissance sweep, the general rule was that one wanted each suit to act as a separate "receiver" and to use the distance between each suit to compare the two sensor intakes. With only two suits, only one of which had a Gorgon rig, the effectiveness was limited, but still, the distance between us grew until we got into an optimal formation.

"Are you seeing any pattern in the returns?" Mother asked after making sure her scrying intake was being shared with mine.

"I'm not sure." It was hard to confirm that there was any pattern or direction, that there was anything unusual other than more birds being about.

However, as we continued to fly, I focused on that large flock that had caught Mother's eye. It had split, up and each moved in their own nearly random patterns. A couple of the flocks I had been watching, I marked yellow out as they went to trees or I thought were just normal birds.

"You trust those?" Mother noted, observing the shared data feed. "Not much of a return there..."

"Yes, but not out of paranoia," I promised her. "Instead, look… When you contrast the normal flocks versus these other ones... There, see? It becomes obvious."

"Ah... good job." Mother's voice was full of reflected pride.

Strong and skillful daughters, after all, could only come from mighty dames.

If anything the "normal" flocks were more cluttered than the suspicious ones. While the normal flocks were flocking for mutual protection and were looking for food or some place to roost, the other flocks...

The other flocks had a pattern that looked familiar.

"They're searching for something," I declared, the scope of the realization sending chills down my spine and tail. "There's hundreds of birds in at least a dozen little flocks, all searching the western part of Eastern Province."

"They're being directed," Mother concluded.

I exhaled It had to be said. "When I first arrived last week... you were there for me at Bovitar when we changed trains to go up north. The Railway Lady was there, as well as RainsFord the huntress and someone you called Miss Crow."

"I did," Mother stated. "This is more than I expected out of her."

"She said she was a guild-bonded private security agent and investigator. Crow also said she worked for the railway."

"She works for whoever pays," Mother clarified.

"And these are her birds that are looking for something?" I inquired.

"Or someone." Mother's voice was a bit quieter.

My apprehension grew. I had enough dealing with otherworldly beings. The Harp's World mission ended with me learning far more than I wanted to about the Fae. Becoming enmeshed in some scheme of a railway entity seemed to be even worse.

Running away and pretending I had not seen these crows wasn't in the cards though. Not with Mother here. The Duchess had expectations of me as a noble Imperial Heroine.

Not to mention Mother-dearest has her own plans, that traitorous voice whispered in my mind. Her claws are far from clean. She dropped you into this railroad mess and knew the Lady was lurking about.

"The pattern is changing," I observed. "There's a new locus of activity: south-east at about two-fifty-seven degrees absolute. Other flocks seem to be dissipating, with many roosting."

"I guess she found her target," my Duchess said with a spot of resignation.

"Shall we get closer?" I asked, dreading the question. "This particular flock is only a few minutes out at our current cruising speed."

"Yes, put in the new heading," Mother said after a few moments of awkward silence. "Maintain altitude, velocity and Veil. I'll keep ATC updated."

"Confirm," I said as I updated our waypoints.

My spine grew colder as we closed in and the object of the corvids' attention became clear. A convoy of large touring cars was driving down a main east-west turnpike. Going a bit fast for the amount of snowfall, the convoy practically had the road to themselves and, if they continued on that road, would reach the border to Shoreline Province and the waters of Lacus Superum.

And, once on the great lake, the convoy's occupants could go elsewhere in House BlackSky's territory, or to RedStorm, Andromache, or even Elena.

The crows, or perhaps they were ravens, seemed to be following in shifts and kept a fairly sophisticated pattern with reserve assets for when the cars went through intersections.

That implied that Miss Crow, if this was all her work, had some means of communicating over long distance with the birds. Which was the more supernatural aspect, as befriending the intelligent and gregarious birds was quite possible. Like all reasoning beings, corvids were willing to work and trade with others. As long as they were dealt with fairly, they would tell others in their flocks, though woe be to any who upset the birds as they were capable of keeping generational grudges.

That Miss Crow had a network of such size was noteworthy, and had unpleasant implications given the number of crows around Jopecott. Again, presuming this was Miss Crow's doing, it was obvious why such skills would be useful to whoever could pay for them.

"Can you ID the vehicles?" Mother asked.

"They're Mammon Motors," I promptly answered, having already begun looking for identifying marks. "Looks like two sedans in front of an extended model. Hmm, more expensive than my own touring car. Scrying isn't resolving the insurance plates. I'll need to get closer or go to active."

"No need, I can be patient," Mother said, trying to inject some levity into her voice. Then she ordered, "Reduce altitude by two thousand feet."

"Confirm," I automatically complied. Between the weather and Veils, we would still be high up enough to avoid detection but getting a fair bit closer would increase the resolution of our Scrying systems.

The weather continued to worsen as we flew closer. The convoy had begun to slow down as the flurries thickened. At first I thought the drivers had regained their senses and had decided to turn back… but then, instead of turning around, the cars came to a complete stop.

At a railroad crossing.

This railroad was a northward spur from the main Great Northern line that connected Bovitar to Solvia and points to the west. That, I suspected, mattered very little.

All that mattered was that it was an extension of a railroad.

No, I corrected, not an extension of a railroad; an extension of the Railroad.

Almost from nowhere, a train blasted into view, its long horn blaring from the front of a snake of cars loaded with freshly felled trunks. With a jangle of warning bleats and a storm of red blinking lights visible even through the thickening snow, the barriers on each side of the crossing lowered. Not that any through traffic would have been possible, as suddenly, the southbound timber train was there, slashing across the road and entirely blocking any traffic short of the actively suicidal.

Far above, Mother and I slowed and went into a banking turn so as to not overtake the stopped convoy.

The cars stood waiting for a moment and then began to reverse. Given how one almost slipped off the road and almost backed into a coaling tower by the rails and another swerved into a drainage ditch, those drivers had fallen into panic. Dirt and snow rooster-tailed up as the car fought to regain traction and pushed itself back onto the road.

And then, in a flash, the train was gone, and three figures stepped out from behind the coaling tower. One raised a rifle, and the two driver's side tires of the largest car were shot out.

Its two escorts had reversed and shot down the road in the direction they had come, leaving their presumable charge behind.

I zoomed in on the imagery as the scrying intake focused on the scene below. Rainsford the huntress, Miss Crow, and the Lady from the Railroad approached the Mammon Motors car as it tried to slump along the snowy road.

Mother swore. She was seeing the same scrying intake as I was. "You were right; this is Miss Crow... and her employer."

The blonde at the head of the trio cheerily waved. At first I thought it was at the stopped car, but the angle of her arm and her upraised gaze made it obvious. She was waving at us. After confirming she knew she had an audience, the Railroad Lady then nodded to RainsFord. The huntress raised her rifle and fired into the Mammon's hood.

After a few shots, even the car's ineffectual lurching ceased.

The Railroad Lady in her glossy red and black winter clothes gave another seemingly-sunny wave, but I could imagine her red eyes were as hard and cold as the iron rails behind her.

"We are witnessing a crime," I observed. "And, we are still in your duchy," I added diffidently.

"You are correct," Mother sighed. "But if the Lady simply wanted them dead, her huntress would have already shot them."

I held my tongue. There were plenty of nefarious things these three could do without killing someone. Though given what Mistress RainsFord Songstress had told me in the Woodhall Social Alehouse, a simple death might not be what the Lady had in mind.

The front doors of the car opened, and a chauffeur and a maid stepped out. Neither of them had visible tails or wings. The driver raised her arms while the maid opened a rear door.

Two more people made their way out of the car and onto the snowy road. One was a slender woman with an obsidian updo in a tight mermaid-style dress and a thin shawl. She seemed cold, especially how after a couple steps she folded her wings over her shoulders and arms.

The other wore a grey suit and had short hair and shining gold eyes. The exact colors of her skin, hair, and wings were hard to tell via the passive Scrying, but at this low altitude and angle, I was able to make out her face.

She was Dame Laelia BloodStone, the errant provincial comptrollia. When Inspector Focht's team raided her office and inspected the books, they had found that millions of aurei had gone missing in a multi-year scheme starting from the initial planning of the project, a scheme that had involved a myriad of contractors, vendors, and other provincial officers in its fullest extent.

​

Unsurprisingly, a magistrate had signed a stack of warrants as soon as the conspiracy had been unearthed, including one ordering that BloodStone be brought in under charges of embezzlement, conspiracy, and oath breaking.

I suppose the Railroad Lady could simply be apprehending her to collect the bounty, but I had my doubts that the paragon of progress was quite that civic-minded.

"We're landing. Right now," Mother ordered, already pulling her wings back and dropping in altitude.

"Confirm," I replied. I pushed my concerns down as my Zephyr pushed me forward to catch up to my Duchess. She had more experience, and she knew what she was doing. I just had to trust her.

Fortunately, I had plenty of excess thrust and time to get close to Mother's wing. We plummeted in a steep dive and, at the last moment, rotated our angle of attacks and flared our wings. Our Veils lifted as we came in, our revealing sleek, armored forms.

It took my years of experience over multiple lifetimes to not be distracted by the Railroad Lady looking up right at us and giving a toothy smile.

Air spirits buffeted under our wings, slowing us down, and the heels of our suits hit the snowy road with a pair of soft crunches. Neither of us stumbled, went to a knee, or even had to use our arms for balance as our wings folded back and our deathmasks' flat gazes went over the others in silent judgment.

Behind my mask, I concealed a smile. Being a Soloist in a Legion Ballet Troupe did give one advantage when it came to precision flying.

Dame BloodStone's fear intensified, golden eyes wide and green tail straight. And it was the comptrollia; this close, her short green hair and purple features were readily identifiable.

Her mistress had a cigarillo out and was focused on keeping it lit in the snow with a grim resignation while the two lagomorph servants had backed away and seemed ready to run off into the night. Their tall bunny ears arching back, the maid and driver edged further away. Not that I could blame them. A pair of Ritual Plate had just dropped out of the sky. Snow melted as it hit our wards, with water splattering onto our plate and hissing off of the various projectors and emitters, and air still swirled around us, driven by anxious spirits.

The silence drew out as the disparate parties studied us. With the train just a rattling echo in the distance and the Mammon's engine forcefully shut down the only sounds were the dripping of automotive fluids. The scent of motor oil added pungency to the mix of emotions emanating from everyone, but the most blatant stench was the naked fear emanating from Bloodstone.

While the terror of the Railroad Lady might not be readily apparent, two BlackSkyvian war machines landing was far from subtle. And yet, relief momentarily crossed Dame BloodStone's face when she registered our arrival.

Clearly, she knew enough of the Lady to find a set of RP to be the lesser threat.

Her relief lasted until Mother raised her faceplate.

"Your Grace!" Dame BloodStone bowed and strode closer to Mother. An unctuous, greasy smile crossed her face, at odds with the fevered desperation lighting her golden eyes.

Mother held up a hand, palm forward. "Be silent."

BloodStone froze. Only part of her horror was due to having a ballista projector pointed at her.

"Ah, Duchess SilverFlight, a pleasure to meet you again, a true pleasure," the Lady purred as she circled around closer to us whilst keeping BloodStone fixed in her gaze. "You are looking quite well tonight, quite well indeed."

"And, of course, your daughter. Countess, lovely to meet you again." The red-eyed woman bowed her horns towards me as she stepped into the light cast by the car's headlamps. Snow swirled around the beams that illuminated the blonde in the red suit, and her shadow stretched behind her as she continued to pace to and fro, studying me.

"I say, is that a new suit?" the Railway Lady inquired in an easy light tone as if we were at a cocktail party.

"Yes, it is. I just got it," I replied, trying to be gracious, as I was loath to exacerbate tension.

"Ah but it's not all new is it, yes? That mask makes quite the statement. Bold and flashy!" Her red eyes critical, she leaned forward. "Rails of gold tying together the topography of your face. Ensconced in such a... modern mechanism... It suits you."

"Um, thank you," I stumbled pondering her words. If, as I theorized, the Railroad Lady was a gestalt of the progress of industry, of logistics, of transportation, then she was the locus of the research, labor, and skill of thousands and thousands of people all placed into something in the shape of a person.

And does that not also describe a Ritual Plate? I thought with a chill. In these suits does the Lady see Mother and I of lesser echoes of her? Does she think this is my true self?

"Not how I would have done it, but you have an old soul." Despite waving away her comment, she gave me a vicious smile. "And I suppose keeping the old with the new, is your way of remembering where you came from and who you've sworn to."

"Thank you. I am very proud of all she's done and was happy to help with her new suit," Mother said, her tone polite but her tail slightly stiff. The Duchess gave me a carefully-measured look.

BloodStone gave an impatient huff, which earned a withering look from Mother.

Bearing a small frown, Miss Crow's gaze went to the sky as a small flock cawed above us. If we surprised her, then that showed some limits to her abilities. RainsFord merely tipped her gaudy hat to me.

The Railroad Lady pulled at her coat as her coal-black heels crunched the ice and snow. "Such an invigorating night," she exhaled, a cloud of steam passing her lips. "Your Grace, may I inquire as to your intentions?"

"May I inquire into yours?" Mother asked, her tone casual.

Glancing at the map on my display screen, I could see why she was so confident. Mother had been making private calls once we discovered something was awry. But for the moment, it was still just the two of us.

The power of the Railroad spread her arms, letting the snowflakes fall on the upturned palms of her blood-red gloves.

The gesture suggested an orator pleading a case before a judge, but nothing about the fires glowing in the Lady from the Railroad eyes betrayed a hint of submission.

"Offense has been offered, a ticket purchased; now, the fare must be collected," she hissed, her fell focus turning entirely onto BloodStone. "All debts owed to the Railroad will be tendered in full."

"She has embezzled tens of millions of aurei," Mother agreed. "She has abused her position of trust and authority for her own gain."

"You have no proof! I did no such thing!" Dame BloodStone snapped, the defiance of the cornered rearing up in what passed for her spine.

The Lady garbed in red laughed, and her laugh was as rich as a plushly appointed carriage, as jovial as the companionship in a club car, as hearty as the full-throttled roar of a steam train's engine.

Then, her tail stilled

She advanced, stomping through the snow seemingly without caring about how she now stood between Mother's aim and the provincial accountant. "I care not for money, you simpering oaf. You could have tipped your snout and stolen as much as you pleased, but you got greedy. You overreached yourself, and in a fit of purest Mammon… You damaged the Railroad. You, a shortsighted paper-pushing glutton of little mind and less utility, made a fool of the rails. You made me a fool," she hissed and spat the last like an overloaded firebox.

I was glad to still be in an enclosed and armored environment.

"And," Mother inquired, her wings stretching idly as if they were merely splitting the bill of a luncheon, "what price will you demand from the former comptrollia?"

The Lady's head swiveled, first from BloodStone to Mother, and then past her, down the railway embankment behind her. An embankment still very much in my mother's demesne. "I suppose," she allowed, "as we are in the Duchy of Argenia, you have the right to ask that.

"I ask the same price I ask of all who wronged me, all who got in the way of progress." The Lady's smile returned, as cold and sharp as a razor. "Offense has been given, Comptrollia Dame Laelia BloodStone. You are charged as an oath breaker and have fled from inquest. If you have rejected the light of the new ways, then I demand redress via the old."

The blonde woman once more exhaled, her breath steaming as her eyes flashed. "It is a lovely night. I will allow you a sporting chance, only one wing will be shot before the chase will begin."

At that, RainsFord purposefully lifted her rifle an inch.

The lagomorph servants and the coiffed mistress had by now retreated almost to the interior of the car.

"You're not going to inquire as to the fate of your staff?" Mother asked BloodStone.

"Why should I care? They'll betray me like everyone else, my other guards fled. And those two have proven to be worthless hoppers," BloodStone spat, petulant in the last.

Duchess SilverFlight shook her head. "Laelia, dear, you make it hard to be aghast at the idea of you being run down until the snow runs red with blood."

"And you and your murderous brat will now just stand there and watch. Did you do the same with all the others? Maybe you did more than watch and you fed on them like the carrion you are?"

The Railroad Lady's grin increased. "Ah spirit! A bit of defiance to color this rather monochromatic proceeding. But no, Dame BloodStone, this is the first such... festivity wherein I have had the pleasure of such nobility attending as my guests."

"And if you knew anything of my or my daughter's history, you would be well aware that you would make poor sport for us," Mother stated, her tone cold.

"The last time I killed in the snow it wasn't for sport." This anathema to public order had drawn enough of my ire that I had angrily flipped the toggle to my external speakers.

BloodStone's tail stilled as my pale porcelain and gold saintly death mask met her golden gaze. "I was shot down over alien stars and had to kill and feed upon the soldiers and commandos of our northern enemy." I tilted my head. "You are simply a craven thief who abused the trust given to you." And ruining my flight with my Mother.

"Lectured by a pretty, empty-headed doll made to parade when recruitment falls below quota," BloodStone sneered, flashing her own fangs. "Did you know one of my daughters asked for your doll for SabersWatch?"

"Did you get her one?" A doll would be a better role model than you. I wanted to add.

"My mate does the shopping. The empty-headed twit already took the girls." BloodStone dismissively waved her cigarillo. The burning ashes drifted into the night. "I suppose I won't find out."

"Not with that attitude you won't!" The Lady stated, amused, stepping back out of the cones of light the two dimming headlamps made. I supposed the Dame kept her car as well maintained as the steam engines.

"What do you care?" BloodStone said as she puffed on the slender cigar.

"My dear embezzlatrix, if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead," the Railroad Lady promised, her eyes gleaming blood-red as her shadows sluggishly moved behind her. "It is not enough for me to kill you and you ilk. The scales must be balanced."

The blonde demon nodded to her two associates. "Misses Crow and RainsFord are very skilled, but they are not perfect. Tell me Laelia, you had the audacity to defraud the Provincial Governor, the executives of two railway companies, no less than half a dozen senators, and-" she bowed her horns to Mother and I, "-sundry landed gentry. Where has that spirit gone now?"

BloodStone dropped her smoke and crushed it under a heel. "So, you dangle hope like a juicy steak to get me to try and run into the woods alone during a snowstorm."

"It's better odds than being tied to the tracks," RainsFord stated, seemingly bored with the current proceedings.

The Railroad Lady turned and gave the huntress a sharp look. "A messy offering, no? And think of the poor conductor! She'll have to stop the train and have the rolling stock washed, and then the train will be running late."

"A messy offering is still an offering," Miss Crow said, her yellow eyes looking over the rest of us with an airy indifference.

Mother rolled her shoulders. "It is a shame there's not enough to go around. Inspector Focht and those she represents are very interested in BloodStone."

The Railroad Lady's chuckle dripped with more pride than a Lord of Hell. "Your Grace, I have little need to collect a bounty. Not that I object to blood-money, of course; I find it more honest than any other kind of currency." Giving her razor smile, she nodded to her lackeys, to mother and I, and to Dame BloodStone and her erstwhile servants.

Mother studied BloodStone as the condemned lit another cigarillo with her power, hands only shaking slightly. "I will tell your wife and children that you at least acted with dignity."

BloodStone laughed, then choked on the smoke. "I will not give that... thing the pleasure of seeing me beg, Your Grace. Nor will I indulge your pretensions to moral superiority. When you steal from others, destroy trains, ships, and lives all to line your pockets you're called a heroine, given laurels, lands, and titles. So no, I'll keep to the social niceties to deny you the satisfaction."

Mother's tail flicked as she moved closer to BloodStone. In her Harmonia, she loomed over the green-haired woman. "Those 'social niceties' are what kept me a legitimate mercenary. When I kill it is deliberate and not through negligence, and it is different to kill in battle, to kill those not of our House."

BloodStone's gold eyes sparkled. "Well, I can't argue that foreigners aren't worth as much."

"Quite, quite," the Railroad Lady once more stepped between the Duchess and her prey. "Jingoism, imperialism, and manifest destiny are all proper motivators for the pace of progress."

"The Imperatrix will stretch her hand from cape to cape and up and down the Spine," Miss Crow intoned, repeating a popular if... aggressive slogan.

Mother sniffed at that before focusing on BloodStone. "You do have a choice."

"Oh? What choice? It looks like I've been railroaded," the green-haired woman seemed inordinately proud of her pun. Not even her flunkies or her exasperated mistress even bothered to pretend to be amused. "Why am I being victimized? I didn't kill anyone. The maintainers could have told the train not to run, the backwater Craw Holler folk didn't have to use substandard materials. Why am I getting the blame? Everyone's turned on me, so why shouldn't I run?"

The Railroad Lady brushed some of the snow off her sleeves and rubbed her hands in anticipation. "Bold to assume that you alone will slake my offense."

"Dame BloodStone, if you feel betrayed then why not name names?" Mother asked. Her tone was pleasant, but by the slight twitch to her tail and the bare stiffness in her voice, I could tell she was more stressed than her emotional output would indicate.

However, the communication we had just received did much to ease her mind.

BloodStone gave a bitter laugh. "Should I abase myself before the provincial court in exchange for what, exile? Flogging like a petty thief?"

The Railroad Lady's attention fell upon mother. "Yes, Duchess, what are you suggesting?"

"Daughter," Mother said, that single word holding such a burden. Of course she was testing me.

When else would she have a chance to observe how if dealt with beings like the Lady? I glumly thought, tail flicking. But... she's not forcing me to take a deal. Mother said it was up to me how entangled I would get with the Railroad. There has to be a way out? And... surely she would step in if I caused offense, but then I'd fail Mother's test.

What leverage did I have? I exhaled, realizing that mother had made a whole list of names, people she and inspector Focht had collected to get leverage.

"Comptrollia Dame Laelia BloodStone, there are others who have laid claim upon you," I stated.

BloodStone looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, but the sharp glare from the Railroad Lady held her back.

"So then," I continued, "with so many liens against your soul, why should your flesh remain whole?"

BloodStone's defiant mask of a smile froze.

"Lady of the Line," I called out, addressing the entity that was not a demon,
the debt owed to you must be satisfied with blood and pain, but does not require death."

"This is so," the creature confirmed, her smile a sleek engine of perfectly machined to a minimum tolerance. "Death is only a waste byproduct and a terminus; life and all its potential is the brightest burning fuel, and blood the seal of contract and page."

"Then let Laelia BloodStone tender her debt to you in the fullness of her life and her flesh unto the brink, past which is death," I suggested. "But there are other valid claimants."

Mother's approving smile and supportive emotional pulse were proof I was in the right direction.

The Lady idly lifted a hand; Miss Crow and RainsFord the huntress tensed. "Your Grace, I do not want to be a poor hostess. I do so rarely entertain guests, after all. So, please, do not force my hand." The Lady gave Mother and I a bright smile, her fangs gleaming in the lengthening shadows as the last fingers of the sun loosened their hold on the sky and the shadows lengthened behind her.

"I would never want to place you in an indelicate position." Mother bowed her horns. "But, you will allow my daughter to present her proposed solution," she promised, her voice steel.

"My Duchess," purred the Lady, her radiant grin as bright and cold as the headlight of an oncoming express, "even your considerable reach is not beyond overextension. While you speak as the holder of this duchy and as its guardian… You and your saintly spawn are on ground consecrated to a power that supersedes all boundaries, against whom even walls are ultimately powerless. The land itself might be yours… but the easement belongs to the Railroad."

I had to hold my Zephyr back to keep the snow from billowing around us. Ritual Plate were the most vulnerable on the ground.

And then a quartet Harmonia buzzed overhead. The display was restrained. They were subsonic, the suits were still several hundred feet up, there was no use of flares or the like, and the threat of weapons fire was entirely implicit. Mother made sure her pilots were quite well trained.

BloodStone's tail went limp.

"Ah, yes, I can see how earnestly you wanted to avoid... trouble." The Railroad Lady's face clouded as her ruby lips twisted and her inexorable attention returned to me. "Well then, Countess, who else wants Bloodstone?"

"Saturnina BroadHorn, Varinia Fabricia, Juliana Hermino, Petronia JadeBone, Cassia Priscus, Martina Priscus, and Tertia ShadowClaw," I slowly intoned my voice gathering strength with each name. "All died in Craw Holler. All of their kin have petitioned the court of the Duchy of Argenia for redress. As the holder of that same duchy, recognized by your own word, does my mother the Duchess not bear the duty to force payment for their blood?"

"And the Priscus and ShadowClaw families have also petitioned the County of Larium. Not to mention many of those wounded have also submitted petitions," Mother added, keeping her voice even.

Irritation, no rage, flashed across the Railroad Lady's face as her tail curled. "I see. And what redress have they demanded?" she asked, her voice still a hiss.

It was only due to the protection and separation, symbolic as it might have been, of my Polyxo that I was able to keep my calm in the face of the Lady's ire. I glanced at Mother, but she was looking on with pride.

Now, I have to seal the deal. I hope this is right, I thought before giving a quiet prayer, not that I was sure DarkStar would care much about blood debts.

"An Apology," I stated. "That is the statement of redress they desire."

"I see," the Lady exhaled, her anger waning.

"Apology" Capitalized by dint of its importance, near universally understood on Diyu. A simple word for a perilous ritual, an Apology was the ultimate act of contrition.

"The rite fits, does it not?" I pressed. "Her hands are yours, those appendages that defrauded those whose cause you champion, as are her arms and her legs. Likewise her horns, her wings, and her tail. One eye too, and likewise one ear, and also her nose. A pound of flesh torn from her left breast, and a pound from the right also.

"Leave us only her, her life, and the mechanisms she will require to betray her confederates to us. With that, both of our debts will be honored, and her bond redeemed. There are many who would make a claim to her to take their flesh, let them."

It was a simple solution, a modification on the classic Wisdom of Solomon. If two claimants assert control over a single asset, divide it equally between them. In this case, rather than simply cleaving the disputed property in half, I had offered a split along mutually beneficial lines, and it would be BloodStone's victims who would be doing the cutting.

"You would have me submit myself before those commoners?" BloodStone demanded, incredulous and still, despite her circumstances, haughty beyond the station she had betrayed. "They'll tear me apart!"

She was not exaggerating. In an Apology, the aggrieved party could do anything to the penitent, who would have to bear the scars of their ordeal unhealed and in their fullest extent. Assuming, of course, that the penitent survived their contrition.

"At least with the Lady, I'd have a chance to not bleed out on the snow!" BloodStone waved at the shadowy trio. "Just hand me over to them and have done with it!"

Flashing me a smile, Mother stepped right up to the condemned. "That all depends. If you tell Inspector Focht everything, if your testimony is found to be sufficiently valuable, if enough of the money is recovered from wherever you and your confederates might have stashed it, then maybe... just maybe, you will live to bear the scars of your misdeeds. After all, did you not say you were as much a victim as those on the platform? Once your Apology is tendered in full, perhaps you could claim to have been next to those unfortunates that day in Craw Holler. Or at least imply as much."

BloodStone's cigarillo shook before she got it back under control."Maybes of a lifetime spent as a maimed cripple more marked than Caine are what you offer? You can do better, Duchess."

The Railroad Lady narrowed her eyes. "This ill-suits the portion of service I would receive; she is mine."

SilverFlight turned to the blonde. "Madam, we are still in my duchy, and my people also demand recompress. As my daughter asked: will you deny them their blood?"

The Lady seemed to weigh things. Contemplation sat oddly on her face, a moment of stillness ill-suited for such a forward-sprinting being.

"Please consider our offer," I opened my mask and bowed my horns to the railroad entity. The blowing snow felt cold on my face, the scents around me intensified, and without a display before my eyes, everything felt closer and almost intimate.

RainsFord tipped her hat to me and the two servants bowed, their long ears drooping. I tried to give the latter two a reassuring wave, which was challenging given hardware I was encased in. But I wanted to make it clear that they were not guilty merely for being retainers. If they had committed some other crime then let the Inspector have them, but neither myself or my Mother had an interest in sending a message on proxies, not when we could get BloodStone in our pocket.

Giving me a cold, critical gaze, the Railroad Lady lifted an eyebrow. Even face to face with the thing masquerading as one of us, she was hard to read. Covetous pride echoed from her and seemed to reflect out from her as if she was the locus of every rail on Diyu, but the subtleties of her expression, if there were any below that perfect, burnished surface, were lost on me.

Inhaling, I straightened and lifted my face to meet the entity's furnace eyes squarely. "Consider the banal villainy that caused offense. Graft and greed had resulted in a railroad accident. Many were hurt, many were offended. And here is a blood rite where the public, that is a wronged commoner, can take a ritualistic 'justice' against one of higher station such as Dame BloodStone. Is that not the smooth function of the law's glorious machinery in full action? The same law that facilitates the… Progression of civilization?"

Said woman glared daggers at me. The hate and fear roiling off of her was even more intense without my mask or my suit's systems moderating things. I suppose she disliked being made an example of.

Cool anticipation was all RainsFord's mien. To her, killing was simply part of a night's work, and the only worry in her was when she looked at the Railroad Lady or my Duchess. Clearly, the huntress did not appreciate getting caught between the interests of two such high status people, each a potential threat and client in one

Miss Crow was... this close she seemed distracted and almost flighty. Her presence was.... scattered. How much of her did she leave in her birds? But compared to the Lady, the yellow-eyed mercenary was familiar. On this lonely road, the Railroad Lady was a distant figure. Her emotions, as blunt and base as they were, echoed behind her up and down the rails.

I latched onto comforting and familiar emotions as Mother smiled fondly at me and pressed my point with her own words. "I understand the worry that the actions of the rabble or mob could impede the roads we all follow and lines we ride. But, consider that this sacrifice is not being seized by midnight hands but offered, by one of the nobility and the one into whose hand the land is entrusted. This is not a mob action nor the hurling of red meat, but a ritual that, by being petitioned and consented from the Imperatrix via her proxies, negates a threat to the power structure. This is no vigilantism, this is civilization at work. With her blood, Dame BloodStone shall lubricate the smooth functions of governance… including the rebuilding and repair of the Craw Holler station and line."

My spine shivered. I was pleased to have her approval, but I was... disquieted by her proposal. Apology could be a very bloody affair, and Mother was using it to her own advantage.

"Yes, yes, that satisfies you very well. But what of my sacrifice? Progress must be maintained." A touch of petulance entered the Lady's voice, but it was merely a prelude to the inevitability of hot iron on cold steel.

"The punishment is up to the aggrieved party is it not?" Mother's purple eyes looked over Bloodstone with all the warmth of a butcher studying a fresh lamb.

"You said I might get out of this!" BloodStone screeched, clearly caring little for appearance's sake.

"I said you could have a chance. For more than a chance will have to earn it," the Duchess corrected, her tail flicking. "One way or another you will redress your sins, to the satisfaction of all parties involved."

"Sin?" BloodStone laughed. "Is that why you brought your war nun daughter? To bless this farce?"

"I could be persuaded to make a sanguinary pact," the Railroad Lady said in a too casual voice for such a dangerous offer. "Countess, you proposed that the condemned would have her value extracted, no?"

"I would be very careful in who one makes such a pact with," Mother cautioned, her gaze was upon BloodStone but by the emotional pulse she gave out and the way her tail lingered in my direction, it was obvious who the advice was really for.

I had to keep from laughing. My armor showed how I was thrice obligated. It bore the marks of one sworn to the Imperatrix's Legions, a novitiate in the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady, and the Ritual Plate itself came from monies freed due to my fealty to the Duchess of Argenia. In terms of pacts, my loyalty was already mortgaged three times over.

BloodStone had stepped back and was leaning onto her car. A hand clawed at the glossy bodywork.

"I respect the old ways, as do you, but you are a being of progress," Mother stated to the Lady. "Would a pact in the oldest laws still hold as binding in your eyes?"

The rails almost sang as the blonde entity gave a... satisfied sigh. "I can hardly be one to stick in the past... not when a more modern, more effective way is proposed, now can I?" her question was followed by a cruel smile with hungry red eyes.

I idly wondered what the Lady was before the invention of the railroad. Surely, she did not spring forth when the first boiler was mated to wheels and driven on rails tied to sleepers.

My own breath steamed up as I idly clasped my hands. Cold blood turned to cold-bloodedness. The vessel may have changed, but the spirit filling it like water was the same.

"I'm surprised your guise isn't one of war," I noted, and then froze wings still, aghast that the words had passed my lips.

Bearing an expression that was a good simulation of disappointment, the Railroad Lady inspected her nails. "Come now, Countess. You can do better than that! Think, my dear think! You have a marvelous brain honed by veritable lifetimes of experience."

My gaze went past her to the still structure of the coaling tower and the rails it fed. Rails that crossed all of Diyu that supported transportation, industry, civilization. War, peace, exploitation, exploration, commerce, charity, and conquest, it all came on the rails.

And it all came with a cost.

"This is a token, you don't just want BloodStone and her ilk because they offended you, but because they..."

"Oh, it is more than that, but you have the shape of it," the blonde woman arched her back and stared up at the snow drifting down. "Few can appreciate the complexity of it all. Fewer still can run the actuarial calculations. But you, my Countess, are very familiar with the price of Progress. Oh yes."

Tribune ShadowWhisper, of my instructors at the War College, said I had a knack for logistics. She was of the view that war was more than technical, arcane, or martial strength. That it was the industry, the organization, the distribution of resources. And in war, everything was a resource.

Ledgers, shipping manifests, and tables of organization were the features assembling a cleanly banal face, an unremarkable mask placed atop the visage of ritual sacrifice on a titanic scale, industrialized and optimized and perfected for efficiency and yield. ShadowWhisper was right, I had lifetimes of experience on how war consumed.

As war was politics by other means, war had to be supported by society. War required bodies and bullets. Directly or indirectly blood was the cost.

Perhaps the technocratic Germanian officers of my second life were a bit more honest about the nature of war, if less clear-eyed on the nuances of diplomacy, than the government of my first life. Perhaps my current life was a blend of bracing openness of blood sacrifices while also clinging to honor and glory.

But in every life, in every polity...

The systematized killing of people was... what we did.

Sensing my disquiet and the Lady's attention, Mother shifted her stance putting herself between the blonde and I, and tilted her head.

The Railroad Lady lowered her head to look upon us. "Fear not, your spawn is already claimed. And by one properly bloody-handed."

Did she mean the Archangel? The Imperatrix? Or DarkStar herself? I was reminded of VioletBlood's little flights of fancy where she imagined me at DarkStar's right hand wielding a silvery sword.

"How lovely, the little saint has a bright future in more murder! But what about me?" BloodStone asked, her voice increasingly shrill as her cracks spanning the shards of her control shivered ever wider.

"...How droll," the Lady gave a dead-eyed chuckle. "Duchess, are you sure you want to take her sterling company?"

My Duchess gave her a curt nod before turning to BloodStone. Opening a side compartment, Mother pulled out a thin blade out from her suit. "Dame Laelia BloodStone, I must have your word, your bond that you will submit to Apology before all those who have petitioned the noble courts of Argenia and Larium."

"You ask for my bond? One who is charged as an oath breaker?" Bloodstone's tail actually swished in amusement.

Unsheathing the knife, Mother's armored boots crunched the snow beneath her. Even in standby, her wards flickered with power. "The oath is not for me, it is for you. You need to take my mark, and take it willingly."

"What choice do I have?" BloodStone sneered. "Abase myself and hope that the common rabble finds me beneath their vengeance? If I were to take your mark then I want more."

"A guilder who inspected, and signed off on the train's brakes is still missing..." I offered, then turned to the Railroad Lady. "Or so I presume. We haven't heard any news about any newly discovered bodies… I think?"

Frustration blossomed on the blonde's sharp features, and the rails behind her partially whined as if a freight train were inbound. "Yes, that particular associate of mine has yet to be acquired," she stated, each word drawn out in a sharp hiss.

"Perhaps if you can help Inspector Focht or Mother find her, then you might improve your standing," I offered Bloodstone. "Perhaps enough to get the Imperatrix's Mercy. Mother and I would petition her Court in Silvana."

Mother gave me a slight nod of consent. I could call upon at least one Daughter, doubtless Mother had more connections with the Imperial Court.

The condemned's bloodshot golden eyes had a mixture of horror and animal cunning. BloodStone now seemed to give me as much wariness as Mother or the Lady. The Mercy was no euphemism. She would submit her life to the Imperatrix, and thus, that would be one thing that could not be taken in Apology.

She would survive, perhaps with only an inch of her life, but would exist at Imperatrix BlackSky's pleasure. Someone with BloodStone's skills could be made useful.

"There is always a choice," My Duchess murmured. "You can try your luck with the Lady. You might just escape the huntress. Or you can take my mark and submit to our court." Runes on the silver blade began to glow with a soft violet light as mother cast a spell.

Rubbing her forehead, BloodStone's emotions twisted and swirled. Fear warred with a hope built of self-regard and denial, but she could see a light at the end of the tunnel, a light that was not a train's headlamp. "Well, put it like that and it hardly seems like any choice at all," she licked her lips and held out her hand. The palm was not the most comfortable or practical place for such a mark, but that was the point.

Holding it like a stylus, SilverFlight's blade bit into the woman's right palm. BloodStone hissed and clenched her other hand while a sigil was cut into her flesh. Blood welled until Mother idly tilted the palm. Ruby red drops fell to the ground and bloomed bright in the snow.

The Lady sniffed as if that was the bare minimum.

My Duchess lifted the still-glowing knife. Snarling, BloodStone held her palm. The shallow cuts were already knitting together, but the healing power flared with mother's magic. Angry red scars remained, highlighting the swirling sigil.

Watching the snow fall, BloodStone stared at her hand with resignation.

Pushing down a measure of pity, I stepped towards Mother. Lifting my arm, I gave her a pointed look, my question unspoken.

Mother's approval was blatant. She had wanted me to watch, to learn, but by the shake of her head, she did not want me to mark the condemned myself.

I was conflicted. My Duchess may not have planned to do this tonight, but between having some of her pilots on standby and carrying a ritual athame in her suit, she had been prepared.

I should not be surprised. Narvos had shaken her. One of her friends had been taken and twisted, her support killed. It had caught my mother unprepared and forced her to place me in such danger. I was not the only one who had spent the intervening years making contingency plans.

However, Mother's plans were...

My eyes went to the mark on BloodStone's flesh.

All the proper rites and traditions were being observed. BloodStone had submitted. She would have time to testify. The decision, while not exactly freely made, was nonetheless hers. But was it anything but a choice between the murderous force she knew and the one she did not?

Not wanting to fall too deeply in thinking about such choices, I turned away from the woman.

Her Mistress had moved to the two servants. Based on the swishing tail and upright ears, they seemed a bit more relaxed. The machinations of Dames, Ladies, and Graces were mercifully above their pay grade.

"I'll have one of my Spatha come and pick everyone up." Mother looked up at the sky. "After checking in with ATC about weather conditions."

And bring more of her mercenaries, and maybe some more RP, I thought. While Mother's close protection detail of four feline maids was back at my manor, she had more women under arms in her employ.

"Yes, we don't want to have another transportation accident. That would not do, not at all," the Railroad Lady laughed.

"I shall contact you with the details of the Apology when a date for the rite is chosen," Mother promised the Lady. "As an aggrieved party you have the right to appear and submit a claim against her, either in person or through a bonded proxy."


"I shall look forward to the appointment." The Lady's furnace eyes gave BloodStone a last covetous look.

And then the blonde seemed to dismiss the oathbreaker from her mind. Running BloodStone down in the snow was simply a desire on her list and a negotiable one at that. "Well, I wish you the most fruitful proceedings, your Grace," the Lady bowed her horns to Mother at just barely the proper angle and for just long enough to not be offensive.

Maybe the Railroad Lady was more upset at her due being delayed, I thought, before those red eyes fell upon me.

"And Countess, please do call upon me if you have any more... troubles with your county's development. I'm sure we must all agree that we cannot allow the construction to fall behind schedule."

I gave her a level look. "I will do my best to ensure the line is a proper obeisance, in all ways."

"With most, such a pledge would be hollow hedging," her red eyes flashed as her teeth gleamed in a cold smile. "But I know your body of work. I am confident you will do all that is required; you are such a driven young woman."

I managed to not give Mother a nervous look.

The Railroad Lady laughed. "Yes, progress must not be held back; no matter who stands in the way."

She gave BloodStone a last, dismissive look, turned on her heel, and walked back into the night. Miss Crow crossed her arms and followed while RainsFord shouldered her rifle and tipped her hat at me before sauntering after the other two. The trio went to the coaling tower, stepped behind the cylindrical base, and...

The rails sang and the emotional emissions of three women simply faded.

Mother exhaled, tension leaving her wings. "Daughter, I am sorry."

"I accept your apology." I put on a smile. "This was an opportunity we had to take."

"I'm so glad that the high nobility can get something out of my pain." BloodStone snorted and went back to leaning on the ruined car. Pulling her coat over her shoulders again, the mistress went back to her and whispered into her ear, but was pushed aside.

Mother and I shared a look of shared disdain. She then went to the servants and the mistress. "Don't worry; I'll be taking the three of you in. I'll make things very comfortable until you get new positions."

Left unstated would be that they would be separated from BloodStone and interviewed before being released. I suspected my Duchess had people on staff to conduct such questioning. Inspector Focht would also be notified and doubtless, she would have questions for all the involved parties.

Including Mother and I.

One of the servants mentioned that there were blankets and a supply of water in the car. Understandably, they had greater concerns earlier in the night, but with the Railroad Lady giving her leave, they could focus on other concerns. However, no one wanted to go into the car to get out of the weather. I wondered if it was superstition or some ill-omened fear.

Gold eyes narrowed and tail limp, BloodStone stared at her hand. Her wings ruffled in the night air.

"If you think you can out-fly six Ritual Plate when four are already in the air, then by all means, please, give us a challenge," I stated, with no measure of jealousy. I would much rather be up in the air flying coverage, having a simple mission. Instead, I was dealing with this frustrating morass of schemes, and all due to the greed of this traitorous accountant. Slipping control, my own Zephyr flew out, blasting all the snow that had accumulated on the stalled car and dumping it at BloodStone's feet.

Embarrassed, and reining in the spirits, I turned away, my wings whipping around me. At least the wind and snow were easing up.

My Duchess stepped next to me, using her own Zephyr to give us a bit of privacy. "It's okay, dear. Sometimes I forget..." A bit of guilt flashed across her face. "You're still very young."

"Mother!" I managed to not stomp a foot. That wouldn't help dissuade her that I wasn't still the orphan broodling she was giving flight lessons.

"I'll handle this. I'll see to the interviews and all the logistics of... containment. I've been too much of an imposition already, you're supposed to be on holiday leave," her tail curled at the admission.

I held in that I'd already surmised as much, but the gesture was heartfelt. I did not even want to think about all the challenges posed by the need to keep BloodStone properly secured until her payment could be fully extracted. Yes, she seemed pacified now, but she had proven untrustworthy in the past and might decide that risking an escape would be preferable to facing her victims' mercy followed by questionable service to the Imperatrix.

Mother's wings wrapped around mine for a moment.

The embrace ended and Duchess SilverFlight straightened herself, dismissed the sound baffling air spirits, and scanned BloodStone and the three servants.

The condemned woman sneered but kicking at the snow around her kept her mouth shut. I suppose the gold-eyed woman had realized that breathing around Mother and I was a privilege.

Staring back at her, I stepped into the waning beams of the Mammon motors car. The battery must be on the last legs as the headlamps were now casting light of a pale silver color.

BloodStone went back to inspecting the scar on her palm. Pity emanated from her, but it was all directed inward, not once had she considered how her actions hurt others. I would not lower myself to the Railroad Lady, but I had no trouble comprehending why someone would want to kill such a self-righteous and self-absorbed person as BloodStone.

"Daughter, I have support craft incoming, could you please watch the map for me?" my Duchess asked, cutting off my train of thought.

"Yes, Mother," I lowered my mask and took a sip of water. The display reactivated, and I reoriented the map as I checked in with the four Pilots flying overwatch and merged their scrying intake.

From the north east, in the direction of mother's castle was a VTOL flying under escort of another Flight of Ritual Plate. However... there was another VTOL approaching from the south east. That heading suggested the aircraft came from Bovitar.

I relayed my observations to Mother.

The Duchess shook her head. "I shouldn't be surprised. Inspector Focht almost certainly has friends at Provincial Air Traffic Control."

BloodStone only lifted her head slightly at that.

"Duty never ends," I remarked. "Will it be any trouble?"

"Focht is a smart woman, and I will be sharing any testimony," Mother replied, not quite answering my question.

We stood together for a few minutes. I went over to the BloodStone's mistress and the two lagomorph women to make sure they were warm enough and to reassure them that the VTOLs would be here shortly and with them would be heated cabins and more food.

"Your Grace this is Solv Two, we have visual confirmation on your location. We are coordinating a landing with Eastern Three," one of mother's VTOL pilots transmitted over the channel Mother was using.

"Confirm, setting landing beacons," Mother said as she lit flashing lights on her suit. I stepped to the other side of the street and did the same.

The wind increased as two Spatha VTOLs descended out of the snowy sky. One of the light aircraft was in Mother's purple livery bearing familiar sigils on the side doors, and the other in Eastern Province markings.

Spotlights came on before they landed and once their gears touched onto the road mother's troops exited as one while a handful of PCE officers disembarked the other.

At their heels came Inspector Focht, holding her black homburg hat firmly in place to keep it from blowing away in the downwash. Face stern, she still bowed to Mother and I.

Focht's tail swished when her eyes fell on the despondent BloodStone. "Your Grace, when you pledged your support, I did not expect you to take such a personal interest."

After bowing in turn, Mother shrugged her armored shoulders. "I'll be happy to discuss the details. There should be room on my Spatha if you want to come along. I know you have to do things like secure the car and other such details."

Behind my mask, I sighed. We still had a long night to get everything squared away, but the end was in sight.

+++++

As pleasant as visiting my Countess's manor was, I was a baroness missing my own, admittedly smaller, fief. Fortunately, my Countess was understanding and had agreed on a trip to my family's lands, the Barony of Lilla.

It was a perfect chance show Tauria my fief and, more importantly, give her a chance to relax. I stole a glance at the blonde heroine as our touring car crested a final hill.

A chain of stone cairns followed the ridgeline. The larger spirit-callers were topped with compact windmill blades that would turn prayer wheels lower in the stone structures. I was pleased to see that they all lazily turned in the wind, despite the winter snow. I would have to talk with my seneschal, Miss Patricia, to make sure everything was properly cared for. The wintering orchards and greenhouses that were on either side of the trade road were also key to my land's success. This infrastructure was vital for the economic health of my barony.

A bit of movement caught my eye. While my Zephyr were gamboling about the car, Tauria seemed preoccupied with her own sober inspection of the cairns to notice her own spirits joining in. I smiled, my Zephyr were happy because they recognized that they were returning home; I wondered what brought such joy to my fiancee's spirits.

Spotting a familiar sight, I nudged Tauria with my wing to get her attention before she dipped into her all-to-often dour thoughts. "And that's Missy Palmer's grove. Oh they've got a new greenhouse and repaired the north water tower. Her family provides rootstocks for half of the alchemists east of the capital to graft their cultivars onto," I explained, my tail swishing.

Two of our servants were in the car's front row, their ears upright and twitching as they pointedly did not eavesdrop.

"Do many alchemists grow their own plants?" Tauria asked as we passed the farm bearing a familiar logo with a tree growing out of a hand.

The array of large blue-glass greenhouses and a collection of barns and other outbuildings were quite productive, and it was good to see the farm was growing.

"Some! There are a lot of useful potions and chemicals that come from magically enhanced plants. There's all sorts of tedious cutting, drying, separating, and refining." I waved my hand dismissively.

"It sounds like a lot of work," Tauria noted.

"Exactly! But a lot of these plants have been arcanely bred so they don't exactly make the best of seeds. Not all but enough, and enough of those can be grown from cuttings."

"Hence making more plants by grafting cuttings to rootstock?" the blonde inquired; her mind always worked fast.

"And compatible high quality roots for the common alchemical plants are quite lucrative. Relatively small volume, but high yield," I gave a sharp smile. "My family invested in Missy Palmer's mother in my grandmother's time."

"Does the Palmer farm only do rootstock?" Tauria asked as we drove past a series of orchards with the occasional collection of farm-houses that were not quite large enough to be a hamlet, and only one of which had a tavern.

"Nope! In proud Lilla tradition, the Grove has a still and makes herbal bitters and other digestifs."

"Oh! That's what you have with your wine after dinner," Tauria exclaimed, her adorable face lighting up in recognition.

I couldn't help but give a ladylike laugh. "Took you long enough to remember the label on a bottle?" I teased.

Tail flicking, the Countess looked out the window in an attempt to hide her pout.

After taking a moment to appreciate her clumsy attempt at subterfuge, I followed her eye and looked up into the blue cloudless sky. "Still upset about yesterday?"

She gave a casual shrug. "Mother has been very busy with her... guest. We should be thankful that we got to fly with her two times in the last week." There was a note of despondence in her voice, and she tried to put up her emotional shield. That wouldn't do.

"It was good learning from her. I think we impressed her; even the Islander Girl was at the top of her game. And this time we were there with you just in case," I added, giving a toothy grin while pushing down any anxiety. My poor Countess had her own worries, it wouldn't be good for her to feel mine.

Tail curling, Tauria rubbed her hands. It was easy to feel that she was also concerned that we might run into something... untoward during flight training. "You are right LoveBlood, Mother is very proud of us."

"That's why the Duchess came back with three of her own pilots and had Flight versus Flight level training. And we rose to that challenge!" I confidently said, to assuage my Countess's fears.

Obviously, my confidence and Tauria's pride were justified. Duchess SilverFlight was not one to rest on her laurels, and she made sure her own pilots were skilled and experienced.

After quietly murmuring a prayer to herself, Tauria exhaled. "Fine, I was looking forward to the training scenario Mother had planned for yesterday. And it was nice to not have any crows to worry about, especially as our suits were in training mode."

"There were contingencies, and we've got time, the Duchess will reschedule," I gently put her hand on hers. That she was allowing contact was good, but she still liked to retreat when she felt overwhelmed.

I sighed, perhaps talking through it would alleviate concerns, "Your mother's been very busy."


Tail curling and looking smaller than she really was, the diminutive blonde nodded. "I know. BloodStone's testimony has broken open the investigation. Focht and Mother have new names, accounts, and offices to investigate."

"Is a date set for the Apology?" I inquired. The Apology wouldn't be the end of the sordid affair, but it would provide clear assurances to the Countess and her people.

Tauria shook her head. "There's still a lot of negotiations going on. BloodStone is leveraging her knowledge, but it's only a matter of time."

"I wish I could do more. No one in my Barony has standing, and I wasn't even there when you ran into the... Lady." That Tauria had returned so unnerved from both her recent meetings with the Lady was disquieting. Our operation to return an artifact to its rightful owners had produced less emotion from her. I looked out through the windshield. The two servants had given us our privacy.

"I was happy Mother was there, but I did miss you and Visha having my back," Tauria said, trying to reassure me in her confident, if direct way. "Besides, you've been a great help. Your negotiations with the drow matriarch were key to the spur line project's success."

I decided to indulge her and allow her clumsy deflection.

"They've only pledged to build two bridges in their territory. The surveying hasn't even started, let alone the digging. We can celebrate after they sign a contract, assuming everyone can agree on the toll price," I added and tried to not sigh. Trusting in my noble skills, the Countess had put a lot of responsibility upon my wings.

"We have plenty of carrots to offer. Plenty of landholders are taking up the spirit cairn grants, and well loans. We also have some electrification access to offer," my Countess said.

Eyes teasing, I smiled, flashing my fangs. "This is the downside of having such a sprawling fief, Countess."

"Well. now we can go relax at your home," Tauria declared.

My wings flexed ever so slightly at her compliment. She really was looking forward to relaxing with me in my home! And home was not far away. "Exactly, we can relax! There will be no deluded hillfolk in my barony to interrupt us."

"Like how Mother had to cancel our third training flight with her?"

"Yes, that inspector called in your mother and a flight of her RP for that raid yesterday..." I trailed off, trying to keep in my jealousy at not being invited. We could have flown a simple show of force sortie.

"Mother is fine," Tauria said a bit testily. "No one got hurt, Inspector Focht was being cautious, justifiably so given how isolated some deep woods folk can get." I could tell the pious little countess wanted to pray about how that situation had been, miraculously, resolved without firing a shot.

But Tauria was so very sensitive about coming off as self-righteous or dogmatic. Which was amusing as she was quite comfortable being a martinet when it came to military discipline

"Better than those heretical cultists deserved," I said, affirming the blonde's zeal. I did not want to upset her any further. "First they deify DarkStar, and then they harbor fleeing criminals?"

"They turned the guilders over." Tauria pointed out, her tone terse.

It was a good thing that Provincial Contract Enforcement Inspector Focht had used a gentle touch with that commune of heretics. It helped that they were harboring outsiders, ones who had broken faith, and I was certain that, after everything was sorted out, Focht would have gone to their mean outlander church to give a prayer for thanks and, on her way out, by pure coincidence, pass by the commune's alms box to make a donation. "And I'm not sure they're a... you know, cult."

By the deep conflict on her face, I could guess her internal conflict was between the side of her that submitted to ecclesiastical authority versus the side that submitted to civil and military authority. After all, if those hill folk were a truly dangerous cult, then surely the Provincial governance would have dealt with them?

"I note you didn't deny their heresy," I teased, addressing the key concern to her.

"DarkStar is no god!" Tauria hissed, her eyes flaring blue and silver with anger.

I held up a hand, placating my fanatical fiancee. A key dogma to her was that while DarkStar was a person worthy of great veneration and honor, and that She would return to us, She was not a god.

"Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have set you off," I apologized as Tauria breathed in and seemed to murmur a prayer under her breath.

"It's okay," Tauria said, seemingly a bit relaxed after centering herself. "This whole railroad thing is growing more and more frustrating. We're supposed to be on leave, but the second I arrive everything gets put in my lap. Who knew that land administration would be so frustrating?"

I gave her a long stare before shaking my head. "It's easy to forget you weren't born noble. Oh, Xanth Orchards reroofed their barn."

"What's that supposed to mean!" Tauria's wings, ruffled and my Zephyr retreated a bit at the tone.

"You're not asking about the barn?" I waved off her little tantrum. "Ah well. Things happen, and we have to be flexible. DarkStar's blood, you'd think being in the Legions would make you a bit less rigid."

The two servants in front exchanged a look and kept quiet.

"I am not rigid!" Tauria glared at me, her tail flicking. "You know what happens to Flight Commanders and Squadron Leaders who get set into rigid thinking."

For a moment, I wondered if she was going to pull rank or imply that she had far more experience than I with regard to military matters. I had learned to accept how my Countess, my Prefect Centurion, acted as if she had some deep well of experience.

Though, it's not really an act, is it? I thought to myself. Even as a cadet, she was no greenhorn.

"There's more to life than combat. And outside of an RP you're almost stogy; I was hoping this vacation would help you loosen up," I laughed, then gave a coy smile. She could have her secrets; even to those closest to her, the Countess was a very private young woman.

"That's the real reason I approved of your mistress. With the Islander Girl helping me, we can almost get you to do more than just being a dutiful noble, nun, and soldier," I said, trying to help ease her mind.

Crossing her arms, Tauria's Zephyr picked up on her irritation and fluttered around her. "Then Visha not being here must be a real burden."

My tail snaked around hers as my smile grew. "That's all part of being flexible. And family is important to her, I respect that," I assured, signaling that I knew Miss Shadow was a valuable part of this relationship. "It is funny that a gaggle of commoner fishmongers will get to sightsee across the empire before either of us."

"Maybe for our next leave we can go on a trip? The full circuit. Not just New Florentia to Bovitar, but also down south to Cape Niflhel and back," Tauria offered, her face flushing bright red at the very romantic gesture she had proposed.

I squeezed her hand and released my tail. "Promise?"

She nodded, though she wouldn't meet my eyes. "It would be good to see more of the House."

"Doubtless you also have a list of museums, monasteries, and research parks to visit. Oh, and ballets of course," I teased, leaning a bit more in front of her.

"You like those too!" I could tell she had to control herself from crossing her arms and looking away in a pout.

"I do, but I know you'll find all of the stops that cover those things. So I'll look for things like opera and fashion. Visha will like to hear about this trip." I sat back and sighed at my inadequacy and lack of planning. "If I had a phone in my manor house, she wouldn't have had to stay back at yours."

"Mine's had a phone for all of two weeks," Tauria assured me. "Your manor is scarcely lagging behind."

It was only a bit of help. Phones were the latest thing and all ladies of status were getting lines to replace their old telegraphs and even older crystalline radios. I had let my barony fall behind the times.

"I know, but I feel like a poor hostess for not being ready," I said, keeping my noble bearing. "At least my cousin will be able to share a ride with the Islander Girl when they come over tomorrow."

"LavenderFang does seem a bit over-stimulated," Tauria admitted. "With visitors from the orphanage arriving, I hoped having some girls her own age around would help."

I smiled at her concern for the only family I had left. Being raised by surrogates, LavenderFang had a challenging childhood and was still a bit prickly. Unfortunately, this translated to issues socializing with the common citizenry.

Maybe she'll find her own orphan Imperial Heroine, I thought to myself, my grin growing before I laughed. "Those are fine, even your little cousins Talia and Liata aren't too much to her."

"Those two can be a handful," Tauria smiled.

Away from the Two Terrors, as my fiancee liked to call those broodlings, it was easy to laugh at their antics. Lately, they had found their way into the chapel's bell tower, and it had taken their mothers, and the rest of the family besides, to get them down and keep the other broodlings from climbing the chapel's ladders after the errant pair. The two had convinced each other that climbing the highest point around the manor would let Liata find her own Zephyr.

Between the orphans, the kits, Castilian ArgentShroud's daughters, and the girls Doctrix RedWing had brought over, Tauria's manor house was quite full. Tauria was quite happy to have her Mother Clementia and a couple other sisters helping organize events to keep everyone busy, and resume regular services in the chapel. Services that the Countess was front and center for, often giving her own sermons, singing of hymns, and textual study.

Tauria did make services a far more enjoyable affair. She had the rock solid devotion that allowed her to get philosophical in her theological analysis without showing an ounce of doubt.

I gave her a reassuring smile.

Tauria was still worried about having to host Castilian ArgentShroud and her staff for the holidays, but Duchess SilverFlight had already made it clear where she would be spending SabersWatch with us. The Duchess was making a statement of her intent and protection by gathering as much of her family and forces around us.

The Countess should have been heartened by this gesture. Especially as Miss Shadow's family would be arriving shortly and thus would also be protected.

"It's the kitsune. The kits are fascinated with her wings. I guess feathers fascinate the little foxes," I laughed.

Up in the front row, the servant's tails swished. Watching, Tauria nodded along. "It makes sense. If a clowder of broodlings can get entranced by fluffy tails, so why not kits feel the same for fluffy wings?" she asked, finding a small pout on my face.

"But you've got feathers too, so why aren't you always followed by little foxes?" I teased.

"I am, sometimes," Tauria pouted, crossing her arms and folding her wings over her shoulders.

"Maybe they were told not to? To not bother you of course," I offered and focused my attention on the servants in front.

Head Maid SunShower gave a small shrug while Driver Brabant coughed.

"Yes, they're just being polite," Tauria agreed. "LoveBlood, Visha has to stay back to make a phone call, but LavenderFang could have come with us."

Shrugging, I idly fluffed my hair. "I suppose you're right. Oh well, but this way we can have a nice drive, and the Islander Girl won't be alone. Though after that call maybe she would want some privacy. I don't really know about large families," I admitted, my mood lowering.

Tauria sent me a comforting emotional pulse, reassuring me that I was now part of her family.

My tail swished. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised her family could directly receive a call; it seems like every hotel has a phone now too."

"Well, hotels in the capital at least have phones. And this call is important to Visha; they haven't talked in a long time. She'll catch up and come over tomorrow, so she won't miss the ceremonies."

"Yes, yes, Silvana is very modern, and I did book the Shadow family in a rather lovely..." I coughed, cursing my slip up.

"LoveBlood, did you give that family of fishmongers a SabersWatch present?"

"Of course I did, and I have some proper gifts waiting for them here." I blushed at being caught. "Oh look we're here!"

My barony was compact and had only one settlement of note. Said town became visible as we rounded a turn. Below us, the last few orchards and farms gave way to the old town wall.

The stone structure had been partially disassembled over the years, but even when it was complete, the walls were far too small to be of any real defensive value in the modern Epoch. However, it had been repurposed with prayer wheels, banners, and engraved towers to suit one of the barony's key sources of income.

Less than half the size of Tauria's county seat, Lillaton was a lovely town. White stone with orange roofs peeking through the snow, the buildings were mostly two stories. Though a few buildings near the center of town had three or even four floors. In almost all buildings, the upper floors slightly overhung the ground floor.

Red banners with the silver four-pointed DarkStar were over the mostly symbolic town gates. Leading up to the gates where rows of garland strung trees stood as a rustling honor guard of decorative accouterments culminating in foxfire glowing lights strung up around the arch itself.

Crossing the gates and the line of prayer wheels and stones, my Zephyr swirled and pressed up against the glass with easy calm and joy. I tried to have them comfort Tauria's slightly more anxious spirits.

I took Tauria's hand again, and my tail swished as I gave it a squeeze.

It was good to be home.

Driving into town, the car's tires drove on the swept-clean cobbles. Decorations were also in many of the windows. Our chauffeur carefully navigated the car around carts, golems, and trucks.

"The decorations look good this year," I noted with satisfaction. I had been gone for too long. "I hope the Commercia Guild didn't spend too much."

"Market fair seems lively," Tauria twisted her head as we drove past a plaza that had been filled with stalls for various foodstuffs, trinkets, and games of chance. The baronial choir was singing in front of a drained fountain that had been strung with lights, streamers, and stars. A beer garden had a side of the plaza with its tables warring for space with those setup in front of a cafe and a bakery.

"Oh yes, I suppose the festivities were moved up earlier," I shrugged; Miss Patricia would make sure things would be done properly.

"The town's more Martyred Lady than Hallowed?" Tauria asked. Our sect celebrated Saber's Watch near the end of December, whereas Martyred Lady, the sect Lucia belonged to, celebrated the holiday slightly earlier in the middle of the month.

Which was the compromise we had worked out: in two days, we would have the Martyred Lady observance here on the fifteenth, and then come back to Tauria's county with plenty of time for the Hallowed Lady observance.

"Maybe a third of them are that sect, half are Hallowed, and the rest some flavor of other. Most of those are Reformed Asatru who came down from Andromache a few generations back," I explained, looking around my town with eager interest.

Tauria smiled. Clearly, she appreciated all the hard work that had gone into Lillaton. It was more organized and prettied up than the more no-nonsense, workaday Jopecott.

"The people seem very proud of their home," Tauria said, as the car slowed to a crawl to avoid any revelers.

"As they should be! The economic value of our spiritual and botanical output has allowed Lilla Barony to stand as its own administrative division, as opposed to being a mere part of a larger county," I proudly said before coughing. "Though the Duchy we're under will change in a few years."

Nodding, Tauria was thinking about the implications of our future. With the advancement of golems, artificer flight systems, alchemical pharmaceuticals, and processes, my barony had become even more of a valuable hub.

However, the vast spirit ranches of Celia and Atrax Provinces were still where the bulk of such spirits were sourced for Fleet, Legion, and civilian needs. Thus, while my barony was valuable, especially for Bovitar and Eastern Province, I had to admit that it was relatively minor in the grand scheme of things.

"There's a lot of potential here," Tauria eventually said, thinking about our future.

Smiling, I bowed my head at the compliment.

"Given your neighboring counties were backwaters even by the standards of this province, I suppose there's some room for your barony to, one day, grow into a full county," Tauria said as we passed between a pair of churches.

On my side was the pale dome of the barony's church of the Order of Our Martyred Lady. Where on Tauria's side was a Church of the Hallowed Lady Order in its full Gothic Revival splendor, stately with stone engravings and lofted towers.

"Maybe that's something our daughter can tackle," I said, my tail curling around hers. "Our second, obviously."

Freezing momentarily yet visibly, Tauria's precise, sharp mind ticked over and again went to work. After we were wed, heirs would be required. At absolute minimum, we would need one daughter to inherit County Larium, and one to inherit Barony Lilla. But, that was only the absolute minimum. Heirs and spares was more than a pithy term.

A key part of our marriage agreement was that, while my barony would fall under the aegis of SilverFlight's Duchy, the new Baroness of Lilla would be one of our daughters.

By the way my Countess exhaled and relaxed herself, I guessed she had come to the same conclusion I did.

We would have a brood of our own. If we survived our term of Legionary service, we, including Visha, would be mothers.

"Tauria?" I asked, but my horns told me her exact feelings. I squeezed her fingers with both of my hands and pulled her arm close to my chest. "It's okay, I know motherhood is... a lot, but we have time. Time to learn and to... heal."

"Duty to the Legions first," Tauria nodded, relieved that I shared some of her trepidation. Though Tauria was more confident than I.

I leaned my head on her shoulder. After a time of just taking comfort in supporting her, I realized that the car had stopped.

"Mistresses?" Head Maid SunShower asked with a gentle cough. "We've arrived."

Tauria looked out her window. I followed her gaze to the Baronial Council building. About the same size as the county building in Jopecott, it was a lovely, heavily ornamented neo-Baroque structure dating to the Third Epoch.

"That's not where we're going," I laughed. "Though the Baronial Council building has a lovely wine cellar in the basement."

"It's... big," Tauria noted.

I managed not to roll my eyes. "Not everyone can have a separate courthouse and the space is also used as a guildhall."

"Apologies." Tauria held up her hand and exposed her neck in submission. "Where are we going?"

My grin expanded as I gently turned her head so that she was looking out my window. Opposite the government building and on a small rise was a white manor in the beaux arts style.

A sleek two story affair with a pair of small wings, my manor was a compact and elegant affair as opposed to Tauria's chaotic, sprawling compound. Each window was lit up, and foxfire crawled along the edges of the manor, highlighting the building's lines in sinuous green and silver illumination.

The gates were open, and a familiar procession was already making their way down the driveway.

A trio of maids, all as familiar to me as older sisters, emerged. I smiled at which three Patricia had managed to bring back: Suzette, who had been my hairstylist growing up, BirchTalon, who helped fit my gowns over the years as I'd grown, and Agina, who had grown to be recognized as the best cosmetologist in the barony.

Good, my former governess had everything set up for tonight.

Wearing smart black on red uniforms with silver trim, the trio was led by Miss Patricia herself. Like her, the maids carried large silver boxes. A stern woman with curled silver horns framing a white bun, Miss Patricia wore a severe yet prim black dress with a silver embroidered white sash. Her skin was a pale green, and despite the controlled expression and stiff tail, her pale blue eyes lit up when they met mine.

"Oh, what does Miss Patricia have…?" I wondered aloud, eyes fixed on the box cradled in her arms.

"Lady Patricia BoneWing, your seneschal?" Tauria politely asked as Miss SunShower got out of the car to open her door.

"She was my governess first; it seemed wise to appoint her to a new post once I joined the Legions as a cadet," I said after Brabant, the chauffeur, helped me to my feet.

Freed from the confines of the car, Tauria's bell shaped dress poofed out, sprung by her Zephyr pushing her white petticoats. She preened as Miss SunShower adjusted the ruffled layered white overskirt atop the red shoulderless dress.

Wings fluffing out as her spirits also flared the large lacy cuffs to her sleeves, the maid fussed over the big red bow over one hip before finally depositing a big floppy be-ribboned hat atop my Countess's head.

Still preening, she gave me a smug look as Brabant merely had to drape a red fur-trimmed coat over my wings and shoulders and handed me a pair of kidskin gloves. Both matched my red with silver piping evening-dress. It was a bit blatant to dress in the colors of my Barony, but this was a special occasion.

I gave Tauria a cocky smirk.

After giving us a moment to assemble ourselves, Lady Patricia bowed her horns before going into a curtsy. "Prefect Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, novitiate of the Order of our Hallowed Lady and Imperial Heroine, it is a pleasure to have you as our guest. On behalf of the household staff, accept our thanks for your engagement to our young mistress."

I held back a smile as Tauria tried to look noble, but ended up just looking stiff as her full name was read off. It became very difficult not to laugh when her Zephyr lifted up and sprayed fine snow in a reasonable approximation of sparkles.

Then with a less formal smile, my governess gave another bow. "Volantes Primus Centurion Baroness VioletBlood, welcome home."

"Lady Patricia! It is lovely to see you," I cheered, running to the taller woman, my heels clicking on the cobbles.

Tauria stood by a bit awkwardly as I embraced Lady Patricia, who managed to put down her box. After the hug, I turned to see that the crowd from the plaza had drifted over, with many of the locals watching us.

Tauria's smile turned wry when my maids opened their boxes and started pulling out a selection of familiar plush dolls and books. Though unlike at most toy-stores, the majority of this selection were dolls with redheaded curls, not that the blondes and brunettes were not underrepresented.

Tauria approached my seneschal with her kitsune following closely behind. "Thank you, for hosting. It's lovely to finally meet you. VioletBlood had spoken with great affection about you. Please forgive my delays in finally meeting you all, we've only just been able to come back to Eastern Province." So speaking, she bowed her horns to the pleasantly surprised woman.

"You honor us, Countess. All us Lillains were heartened to hear of your betrothal to our Baroness as it was an ideal match in several ways and gladdens us to see the affection between you two," Lady Patricia said, pitching her voice to carry.

I took a bare moment to collect myself.

"Thank you! It is good to be back! I'm sorry that my duties have kept me away from you for so long; such is the burden that has fallen upon the wings of every Baroness of Lilla. But by DarkStar's grace, I have returned from bringing the Imperatrix's justice across the Spine with my Countess at my side," I cried, taking Tauria's hand in mine and lifting it in celebration. "Alas, our time together will be short, but do not be sad. No! Be merry, Citizens! We all have much to celebrate and will make the most of the time we have together!"

My declaration was followed by my maids handing out the dolls, books, and treats. I then took one of the boxes and personally started handing out blonde dolls to excitable broodlings while giving my fiancee a smug look.

For her part, Tauria waved to the happy crowd. The people of Lilla were very fond of me. And why not? My family had ruled the barony since the Third Epoch and had volunteered to defend the barony and empire, continuing to do so until the family was nearly snuffed out in service to the House.

I kept on a smile as the crowd cheered. Bowing and chatting with the locals, I did my best to stay stoic and rise to the occasion. This was important to my citizens.

After some time, the crowd was politely dispersed back to their revelries with promises that we would be attending various services and events. A couple of my maids helped my own staff remove the luggage from the back of our car. There was a slight reluctance from the foxes as if they wanted to stay in Tauria's shadow.

We were then escorted up towards the entryway of my baronial manor. The doors were opened ahead of us, showing the familiar, minimalist interior.

Stretching out one of her feathered wings over my shoulders, Tauria kept my wings from shivering in the somewhat drafty foyer. She was being a bit dramatic, as Tauria's manor house was colder when we had first arrived. I suppose the sparse and quiet interior was a contrast from the cheering crowds, revelry, and mirth on the outside.

Tail swishing, I looked around with comfortable familiarity and an easy smile as I thought about getting my art supplies out of storage. Having proper tutoring, I did have some measure of training. "Ah, it is good to be home, Lady Patricia," I said with a smile.

"Shall I have a fire lit in the drawing room while dinner is prepared, Chef SpringBounty came back for your stay and is making your favorite?" my former governess asked.

"That would be wonderful," I cheered as I took Tauria's arm. The drawing room was very cozy. "Tauria, you'll love it, SpringBounty was my childhood chef, she has a restaurant in town, and she makes the best strudels and tortes."

"That does sound lovely," my Countess smiled. Her spirits lightened, and more than just the idea of good food, her emotions were open, revealing how much she cared for me.

End Chapter 17 of Book 2

The Duchess is doing her part to help train her youngest daughter into the finer points of noble intrigue. Don't worry next chapter will have Tauria's other mother give her some training, after our countess's visit to LoveBlood's barony.

Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter. And Special thanks to Metal Dragon for working though challenges to really upgrade the Mother/Daughter bonding flight time. Also to Readhead for the great work on sharpening the Lady from the Railroad's dialog. And to Scarlet Fox for the chapter title and the idea of having the final scene be in VioletBlood's POV.

Related to that an omake will be posted with that same scene from Tauria's POV to show how a difference of perspective can reframe things. And here it is!

Chapter 18 has been written and the draft is being edited and Chapter 19 has been started.

There's also about a dozen pieces of art ready to post. On a variety of designs and characters.

 

[moon so bright]

I love the family feels, both at the beginning with her mum before the railroad issue, and with Loveblood. Thanks for this chapter.

 

[NHO]

I have weird desire to see an encounter between demons and pantsless witches in plane leggins Strike Witches universe.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

I love the family feels, both at the beginning with her mum before the railroad issue, and with Loveblood. Thanks for this chapter.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, I wanted to inter cut between the dramatic bits Taurai caring for those close to her and her growing feelings
You're welcome!

I have weird desire to see an encounter between demons and pantsless witches in plane leggins Strike Witches universe.

Click to shrink...

Hah, that could be fun. I mean the Strike Witches tech has a lot of similarities to Youjo Senki, which could give Tauria and Visha an odd familiarity with the Strike Witches

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Tauria POV Omake for LD Chapter 37

Here's the second scene of chapter 37, but this time the POV is Tauria instead of VioletBlood

+++++


Smaller than my county, the Barony of Lilla was a compact fief. Much of it seemed spread before us as my touring car crested a final hill.

A chain of stone cairns followed the ridgeline. Many were large enough to be topped by compact windmill blades that would turn prayer wheels lower in the stone structures. That they all lazily turned in the wind, despite the winter snow showed they were well cared for. Which made sense, spirit-calling was one of Lillia's specialties. Curiosity raised, my zephyr perked up where VioletBlood's became excited with what must have been a familiar sign of home.

As were the wintering orchards and greenhouses that were on either side of the trade road Brabant was driving us down. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Reinhild was alert, her ears upright and twitching.

Next to me VioletBlood was happily pointing out the local sights, her tail swishing. "And that's Missy Palmer's grove. Oh they've got a new greenhouse and repaired the north water tower. Her family provides rootstocks for half of the alchemists east of the capital to graft their cultivars onto."

"Do many alchemists grow their own plants?" I asked as we passed the farm, something about the name and the logo with a tree growing out of a hand seemed familiar. It seemed productive enough with an array of large blue-glass greenhouses and a collection of barns and other outbuildings.

"Some! There are a lot of useful potions and chemicals that come from magically enhanced plants. There's all sorts of tedious cutting, drying, separating, and refining," VioletBlood waved her hand dismissively

"It sounds like a lot of work," I noted.

"Exactly! But a lot of these plants have been arcanely bred so they don't exactly make the best of seeds. Not all but enough, and enough of those can be grown from cuttings"

"Hence making more plants by grafting cuttings to rootstock?"

"And compatible high quality roots for the common alchemical plants are quite lucrative. Relatively small volume, but high yield," My redheaded fiancee gave a sharp smile. "My family invested in Missy Palmer's mother in my grandmother's time."

"Does the Palmer farm only do rootstock?" I asked as we drove past a series of orchards with the occasional collection of farm-houses that was not quite large enough to be a hamlet, and only one of which had a tavern.

"Nope! In proud Lilla tradition, the Grove has a still and makes herbal bitters and other digestifs."

"Oh! That's what you have with your wine after dinner," I exclaimed as the recognition hit.

"Took you long enough to remember the label on a bottle?" VioletBlood teased.

Tail flicking, I looked out the window.

VioletBlood followed my eye and looked up into the blue cloudless sky. "Still upset about yesterday?"

I gave a casual shrug. "Mother has been very busy with her... guest. We should be thankful that we got to fly with her two times in the last week."

"It was good learning from her. I think we impressed her; even the Islander Girl was at the top of her game. And this time we were there with you just in case," VioletBlood added, giving a toothy grin that covered her anxiety.

I could hardly blame her for being concerned that we might run into something.... untoward during flight training. "You are right LoveBlood, Mother is very proud of us."

"That's why the Duchess came back with three of her own pilots and had Flight versus Flight level training. And we rose to that challenge!" VioletBlood bragged, though there was an edge of humility to her voice.

Admittedly, my fiancee's pride was justified. Mother was not one to rest on her laurels, and she made sure her own pilots were skilled and experienced. I exhaled. "Fine, I was looking forward to the training scenario Mother had planned for yesterday. And it was nice to not have any crows to worry about, especially as our suits were in training mode."

"There were contingencies, and we've got time, the Duchess will reschedule," VioletBlood put her hand on mine. "Your mother's being very busy."


Tail curling, I nodded. "I know. BloodStone's testimony has broken open the investigation. Focht and Mother have new names, accounts, and offices to investigate."

"Is a date set for the Apology?"

I shook my head. "There's still a lot of negotiations going on. BloodStone is leveraging her knowledge, but it's only a matter of time."

"I wish I could do more. No one in my Barony has standing, and I wasn't even there when you ran into the... Lady." VioletBlood looked out through the windshield. The two kitsune in the front were doing their best to give us our privacy.

"I was happy Mother was there, but I did miss you and Visha having my back," I reassured her. "Besides, you've been a great help. Your negotiations with the drow matriarch were key to the spur line project's success."

"They've only pledged to build two bridges in their territory. The surveying hasn't even started, let alone the digging. We can celebrate after they sign a contract, assuming everyone can agree on the toll price," she added with a sigh.

"We have plenty of carrots to offer. Plenty of landholders are taking up the spirit cairn grants, and well loans. We also have some electrification access to offer."

Eyes teasing, VioletBlood smiled. "This is the downside of having such a spawning fief, Countess"

"Well, now we can go relax at your home," I offered.

By the way the redhead's wings flexed ever so slightly, I suppose town was just around the next bend or the next one. "Exactly, we can relax! There will be no deluded hillfolk in my barony to interrupt us."

"Like how Mother had to cancel our third training flight with her?" I asked.

"Yes, that inspector called in your mother and a flight of her RP for that raid yesterday..." VioletBlood trailed off barely hiding her jealousy at not being invited. Of course my bloody baroness wanted to fly a show of force mission.

"Mother is fine," I said a bit testily. "No one got hurt, Inspector Focht was being cautious, justifiably so given how isolated some deep woods folk can get." Support missions where no one fires a shot were far more preferable than the alternative.

"Better than those heretical cultists deserved," VioletBlood spat. "First they deify DarkStar, and then they harbor fleeing criminals?"

"They turned the guilders over." I pointed out simply relieved that the Provincial Contract Enforcement Inspector used a gentle touch when visiting that commune. Inspector Focht was an integrant woman. If she could avoid angering the locals and giving them a way out, she would. "And I'm not sure they're a... you know, cult."

Both my preceding distrust of entities such as Being X and my adherence to the more Orthodox Church of DarkStar wanted to use the word cult. But... if they were a truly dangerous cult then surely the Provincial governance would have dealt with them?

"I note you didn't deny their heresy," VioletBlood smugly stated.

"DarkStar is no god," I hissed. It was a key point of dogma, that while DarkStar was a person worthy of great veneration and honor, and that She would return to us, She was not a god. DarkStar had not created Diyu or any other world.

My fiancee held up a hand. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have set you off."

"It's okay," I tried to relax. "This whole railroad thing is growing more and more frustrating. We're supposed to be on leave, but the second I arrive everything gets put in my lap. Who knew that land administration would be so frustrating?"

VioletBlood gave me a long stare before shaking her head. "It's easy to forget you weren't born noble. Oh, Xanth Orchards reroofed their barn."

"What's that supposed to mean!"

"You're not asking about the barn?" The redhead waved that off. "Ah well. Things happen, and we have to be flexible. DarkStar's blood, you'd think being in the Legions would make you a bit less rigid."

The two foxes in front exchanged a look and kept quiet.

"I am not rigid!" I glared, my tail flicking. I had spent far more time than her in the military and I was plenty flexible! I just also liked things done the proper way. "You know what happens to Flight Commanders and Squadron Leaders who get set into rigid thinking.

"There's more to life than combat. And outside of an RP you're almost stogy; I was hoping this vacation would help you loosen up." the Baroness laughed then gave a coy smile. "That's the real reason I approved of your mistress. With the Islander Girl helping me, we can almost get you to do more than just being a dutiful noble, nun, and soldier."

I crossed my arms. "Then Visha not being here must be a real burden."

VioletBlood's tail snaked around mine as her smile grew. "That's all part of being flexible. And family is important to her, I respect that," her tone was sincere but there was a bit of jealousy. "It is funny that a gaggle of commoner fishmongers will get to sightsee across the empire before either of us."

"Maybe for our next leave we can go on a trip? The full circuit. Not just New Florentia to Bovitar, but also down south to Cape Niflhel and back," I offered, trying not to flush.

VioletBlood squeezed my hand and released her tail. "Promise?"

I nodded. "It would be good to see more of the House."

"Doubtless you also have a list of museums, monasteries, and research parks to visit. Oh and ballets of course," she teased.

"You like those too!"

"I do, but I know you'll find all of the stops that cover those things. So I'll look for things like opera and fashion. Visha will like to hear about this trip." She sighed. "If I had a phone in my manor house, she wouldn't have had to stay back at yours."

"Mine's had a phone for all of two weeks," I assured her. Telecom on Diyu was well behind my first life, and roughly on par with that of my second. With the major difference that magical communications were far more integrated among the Diyu Great Houses. "Your manor is scarcely lagging behind."

"I know, but I feel like a poor hostess for not being ready," VioletBlood pouted. "At least my cousin will be able to share a ride with the Islander Girl when they come over tomorrow."

"LavenderFang does seem a bit over-stimulated," I admitted. The poor girl seemed more and more overwhelmed as my manor house filled up with guests. "With visitors from the orphanage arriving, I hoped having some girls her own age around would help."

Though maybe a spoiled noble and a bunch of orphans might not make for the best match at least until an orphan catches Lavender's eye by being a Heroine, a cynical voice whispered in my mind.

VioletBlood laughed. "Those are fine, even your little cousins Talia and Liata aren't too much to her."

"Those two can be a handful," I smiled. Sharing LoveBlood's mirth was easy away from the two terrors. That they had found their way into the chapel's bell tower had been a moment of anxiety for me and my sisters. And it took all of us to keep the other broodlings from climbing up the ladders.

Between the orphans, the kits ArgentShroud's daughters and the girls RedWing had brought over, the house was quite full. I was more than happy to have Mother Clementia and a couple other sisters helping organize events to keep everyone busy, and resume regular services in the chapel.

As Lady Castellan, Mother's heir, ArgentShroud also brought her own staff. I was a bit worried at having to host her for the holidays, but our Duchess had already made it clear where she would be spending SabersWatch. Part of me suspected that mother had more of my sisters come over as a way to bulk up the security around the manor.

It was nice to have the place fill up, even if only temporarily, and this was before Visha's family arrived.

"It's the kitsune. The kits are fascinated with her wings. I guess feathers fascinate the little foxes," the redhead laughed.

Up in the front row my maids' tails swished. Watching, I nodded along. "It makes sense. If a clowder of broodlings can get entranced by fluffy tails, so why not kits feel the same for fluffy wings?" I asked, finding a small pout on my face.

"But you've got feathers too, so why aren't you always followed by little foxes?"

"I am, sometimes," I replied, not crossing my arms.

"Maybe they were told not to? To not bother you of course," VioletBlood offered and for once her attention went to the two people in the front of the car.

Reinhild gave a small shrug while Brabant coughed.

"Yes, they're just being polite," I agreed. "LoveBlood, Visha has to stay back to make a phone call, but LavenderFang could have come with us."

The redhead shrugged and idly fluffed her hair. "I suppose you're right. Oh well, but this way we can have a nice drive, and the Islander Girl won't be alone. Though after that call maybe she would want some privacy. I don't really know about large families."

I sent her a comforting emotional pulse. I could relate to her situation, even if I was, technically, now part of a large family.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised her family could directly receive a call; it seems like every hotel has a phone now too."

"Well, hotels in the capital at least have phones. And this call is important to Visha; they haven't talked in a long time. She'll catch up and come over tomorrow, so she won't miss the ceremonies."

"Yes, yes, Silvana is very modern, and I did book the Shadow family in a rather lovely..." the Baroness coughed.

"LoveBlood, did you give that family of fishmongers a SabersWatch present?"

"Of course I did, I have some proper gifts waiting for them here. VioletBlood flushed. "Oh look we're here!"

VioletBlood's barony was small enough that it had only one real municipality. Said town became visible as we rounded a turn. Below us the last few orchards and farms gave way to a settlement that had a town wall of all things.

The stone structure had been torn down in places and was far too small to be of any real defensive value in the modern Epoch, but the prayer wheels, banners, and engraved towers showed that it had been repurposed to suit one of the barony's key sources of income.

Less than half the size of Jopecott, Lillaton had a storybook charm to it. White stone with orange roofs peeking through the snow, the buildings were mostly two stories. Though a few near the center of town had three or even four floors. In almost all the upper floors slightly overhung the ground floor.

Red banners with the silver four-pointed DarkStar were over the mostly symbolic town gates. Light glowing with foxfire had also been strung up around the arch. Leading up to the gates and inside where rows of garland strung trees.

Crossing the gates and the line of prayer wheels and stones my air spirits swirled and pressed up against the glass with a tinge of anxiety while VioletBlood's Zephyr comforted them with their easy calm and joy.

VioletBlood took my hand again and her tail swishing she gave it a squeeze.

Driving into town, the car's tires drove on the swept-clean cobbles. Decorations were also in many of the windows. Brabant carefully navigated the car around carts, golems, and trucks.

"The decorations look good this year," VioletBlood noted. "I hope the Commercia Guild didn't spend too much."

"Market fair seems lively," I twisted my head as we drove past a plaza that had been filled with stalls for various foodstuffs, trinkets, and games of chance. A choir was singing in front of a drained fountain that had been strung with lights, streamers, and stars. A beer garden had side of the plaza with its tables warring for space with those setup in front of a cafe and a bakery.

"Oh yes, I suppose the festivities were moved up earlier."

"The town's more Martyred Lady than Hallowed?" I asked. My sect celebrated Saber's Watch near the end of December, where Martyred Lady, the sect Lucia belonged to, had the holiday earlier in the middle of the month.

Which was the compromise we had worked out: in two days, we would have the Martyred Lady observance here on the fifteenth, and then come back to my county with plenty of time for the Hallowed Lady observance.

"Maybe a third of them are that sect, half are Hallowed, and the rest some flavor of other. Most of those are Reformed Asatru who came down from Andromache a few generations back," VioletBlood explained as she looked around her town with eager interest.

I could hardly blame her. It was clear that a lot of work had gone into Lillaton. It looked quaint, almost saccharine compared to the more no-nonsense, workaday Jopecott. Perhaps this was key to the barony's self-identity?

"The people seem very proud of their home," I said, as the car slowed to a crawl to avoid any revelers.

"As they should be! The economic value of our spiritual and botanical output has allowed Lilla Barony to stand as its own administrative division, as opposed to being a mere part of a larger county," VioletBlood smugly said before coughing. "Though the Duchy we're under will change in a few years."

I absently nodded, trying not to think about the implications of that bit. With the advancement of golems, artificer flight systems, alchemical pharmaceuticals, and processes VioletBlood's barony had become even more of a valuable hub.

However, the vast spirit ranches of Celia and Atrax Provinces were still where the bulk of such spirits were sourced for Fleet, Legion, and civilian needs. Thus while Lilla was valuable, especially for Bovitar and Eastern Province, it was relatively minor in the grand scheme of things.

"There's a lot of potential here," I said, as thoughts about her future, our future, loomed large.

Smiling, VioletBlood bowed her head at the compliment.

"Given your neighboring counties were backwaters even by the standards of this province, I suppose there's some room for your barony to, one day, grow into a full county," I said as we passed between a pair of churches.

On my side was a Hallowed Lady Order Gothic Revival Church, stately in its engraved stone and lofted towers. Across from it was the pale dome with its clean yet pugnacious lines of a church of the Order of Our Martyred Lady.

"Maybe that's something our daughter can tackle," VioletBlood said, her tail curling around mine. "Our second, obviously."

Every part of me froze. We were wed to marry. Daughters, heirs, were expected. One to inherit County Larium, and one to inherit Barony Lilla, at the least. Part of the marriage agreement was that while the barony would fall under the aegis of my Mother's Duchy, the new Baroness of Lilla would be the daughter of me and VioletBlood.

And mother was practical minded enough to insist on heirs and spares. I would have a brood of my own. I exhaled and tried to unclench everything.

"Tauria?" VioletBlood asked, but her horns told her exactly my feelings. She squeezed my fingers with both of her hands and pulled my arm close to her chest. "It's okay, I know motherhood is... a lot, but we have time. Time to learn and to... heal."

"Duty to the Legions first," I nodded, relieved that she shared some of my trepidation. Though LoveBlood was more confident than I.

VioletBlood leaned her head on my shoulder. After a time of just taking comfort in her support, I realized that the car had stopped.

"Mistresses?" Reinhild asked with a gentle cough. "We've arrived."

I looked out my window and saw across the road a governmental building in the neo-Baroque that emulated the late Third Epoch. Its ornamentation and scale surprised me as it was as large as the county building in Jopecott.

"That's not where we're going," VioletBlood laughed. "Though the Baronial Council building has a lovely wine cellar in the basement."

"It's... big," I noted.

My betrothed rolled her eyes. "Not everyone can have a separate courthouse and the space is also used as a guildhall."

"Apologies." I held up my hand and exposed my neck in submission. "Where are we going?"

VioletBlood's grin expanded as she gently turned my head so that I was looking out her window. Opposite the government building and on a small rise was a white manor in the beaux arts style.

A sleek two story affair with a pair of small wings, her manor was a compact and elegant affair as opposed to the sprawling compound I had been deeded. Each window was lit up and foxfire crawled along the edges of the manor, highlighting the building's lines in sinuous green and silver illumination.

The gates were open and a procession was already making their way down the driveway.

A trio of maids in black on red uniforms with silver trim was being led by a stern woman with curled silver horns framing a white bun. Unlike the others, she wore a severe yet prim black dress with a silver embroidered white sash. Her skin was a pale green and despite the controlled expression and stiff tail, her pale blue eyes lit up.

Many of the maids were carrying large silver boxes.

"Oh, what does Miss Patricia have?"

"Lady Patricia BoneWing, your seneschal?" I politely asked as Reinhild got out of the car to open my door.

"She was my governess first; it seemed wise to appoint her to a new post once I joined the Legions as a cadet," VioletBlood said after Brabant helped her to her feet.

Freed from the confines of the car, my bell shaped dress poofed out, sprung by its white petticoats. Summoning my dignity, I suffered Reinhild adjusting the ruffled layered white overskirt atop my red shoulderless dress. Then after checking the flared cuffs to my lacy sleeves, the maid fussed over the big red bow over one hip before finally depositing a big floppy be-ribboned hat atop my head.

I did not give VioletBlood a jealous look as Brabant merely had to drape a red fur-trimmed coat over the baroness's wings and shoulders and hand her a pair of kidskin gloves. Both matched her red with silver piping evening-dress. I almost kicked myself as it was only know when I realized she was dressed in the colors of her Barony.

Noticing my attention, the redhead gave me a cocky smirk.

After giving us a moment to assemble ourselves, Lady Patricia bowed her horns before going into a curtsy. "Prefect Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, novitiate of the Order of our Hallowed Lady and Imperial Heroine, it is a pleasure to have you as our guest. On behalf of the household staff, accept our thanks for your engagement to our young mistress."

Then with a less formal smile, she gave another bow. "Volantes Primus Centurion Baroness VioletBlood, welcome home."

"Lady Patricia! It is lovely to see you," VioletBlood cheered as she practically ran to the taller woman, her heels clicking on the cobbles.

I stood by a bit awkwardly as the two embraced. Glancing back to the street, I saw that a crowd from the plaza had drifted over with many of the locals watching us.

My smile turned wry when the maids opened their boxes and they started pulling out a selection of familiar plush dolls and books. Though unlike at most toy-stores the majority of this selection were dolls with redheaded curls, not that the blondes and brunettes were not underrepresented.

With their hug concluded, I approached the Barony's seneschal "Thank you, for hosting. It's lovely to finally meet you. VioletBlood had spoken with great affection about you. Please forgive my delays in finally meeting you all, we've only just been able to come back to Eastern Province." I bowed my horns to the pleasantly surprised woman.

"You honor us, Countess. All us Lillains were heartened to hear of your betrothal to our Baroness as it was an ideal match in several ways and gladdens us to see the affection between you two," Lady Patricia said, pitching her voice to carry.

"Thank you! It is good to be back! I'm sorry that my duties have kept me away from you for so long; such is the burden that has fallen upon the wings of every Baroness of Lilla. But by DarkStar's grace, I have returned from bringing the Imperatrix's justice across the Spine my Countess at my side," VioletBlood said, taking my hand in hers and lifting it in celebration. "Alas, our time together will be short, but do not be sad. No! Be merry, Citizens! We all have much to celebrate and will make the most of the time we have together!"

Her declaration was followed by her maids handing out the dolls, books, and treats. LoveBlood then took one of the boxes and handed out blonde dolls to excitable broodlings while giving me a smug look.

I waved to the happy crowd, taking in the mythology of it all. The people of Lilla seemed to love their young baroness. And why not? VioletBlood was a photogenic and talented pilot, who had also secured an Imperial Heroine for a wife, and was the next-to-last of a line that had ruled the barony since the Third Epoch. Her family had volunteered to defend the barony and empire, and had done so until the family was nearly snuffed out in service to the House.

Meanwhile, I was merely handed a County as a prize for being an especially lethal little Legionary Flier. The citizens of the County of Larium respected me; where those of the Barony of Lilla loved their baroness.

Smiling, I let LoveBlood have the moment as the crowd cheered. This was important to her. Bowing and chatting with the locals, VioletBlood was doing her best to stay stoic and rising to the occasion.

After some time the crowd was politely dispersed back to their revelries with promises that we would be attending various services and events. A couple of VioletBlood's maids helped my own staff remove the luggage from the back of our car.

We were then escorted up towards the entryway of the baronial manor. The doors were opened ahead of us, and in contrast with the beautiful adornments on the outside, the interior was starkly minimalist, even cold.

Given how even my insulated wings were shivering at the literal chill of the somewhat drafty foyer I stretched a wing out to put over VioletBlood's shoulders to help keep her warm. The lighting was low and while the artwork and furniture was few they were all of high quality. I was reminded of my first visit to my own manor, which I suppose war proper; both buildings had lain dormant for years. Sill, it was quite the contrast of the cheering crowds, revelry, and mirth on the outside.

Tail swishing, VioletBlood looked around with comfortable familiarity and an easy smile. "Ah, it is good to be home, Lady Patricia," she said with a smile.

"Shall I have a fire lit in the drawing room while dinner is prepared, Chef SpringBounty came back for your stay and is making your favorite?" the former governess asked.

"That would be wonderful," VioletBlood cheered as she took my arm. "Tauria, you'll love it, SpringBounty was my childhood chef, she has a restaurant in town, and she makes the best strudels and tortes."

"That does sound lovely," I smiled, my mood brightening at the idea of good food, a comfortable room, and time with someone I very much cared for.

End Omake

This hopefully is a fun extra that shows how perspective can change things just a bit. And the differences between how Tauria sees herself and how others see her.

This scene was first written from Tauria's POV but ScarletFox suggested the change to VB. And as the chapter was being edited I tried to make this a fairplay shift, by keeping the dialog and actions the same.

And we got this in just before April Fool's Day!

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Speaking of the art that was mentioned earlier, there are a couple pieces that could be considered... foolish.
(Don't worry there's still quite a few more pieces to post)

---

First by Scitty Kitty we have this delightful piece of Talia showing off her newest friend to her aunt Tauria (with a background added by WhoWhatWhere). Don't worry it's just a plushie spider, probably.

Fullsize​

---

Lady Adriana "Milly" Melisande has had some challenges in her life, most recently the loss of her mate IronTalon over Harp's World, but, as this fun piece by PlayerError404 shows, Milly's vivacious and playful personality comes out through her mourning. And she is happy to share her hobby of frilly dressup. Meanwhile Lucia is just happy that this time it's Tauria who has caught Milly's eye.

Fullsize​

 

[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.

Interim Fanfiction and Fanart

C&C as always is wanted.

Book 2: "More Than a Shadow"
Chapter 18: Cascading Moments


All eyes turned to us as we entered the dancehall, the sudden attention so heavy that it felt nearly palpable on my shoulders. It felt like everyone worth talking about in the Barony of Lilla was here tonight, and to a woman they were all staring straight at me with disturbing intensity. Fortunately for my sanity, the band continued to play, even if the strings momentarily stumbled across a few sour notes. Next to the musicians, a firedancer and watersinger were still performing as though nothing had happened. The two concentrated on wrangling their spirits in colorful displays; their magical illusions, all ribbons of water and flowers of flame, continued unabated.

I strangled a nervous sigh in my chest. I was no stranger to crowds from either of my lives, and my last had certainly prepared me for being the center of attention. Not that I ever really took much comfort in it. I wasn't the type like VioletBlood of Lucia to drink in the attention of an audience, I'd never be mistaken for a drama queen like them, but I could at least hold my own.

Nonetheless, the room falling into total silence upon our entrance, along with spirits agitated by the sudden lack of commands from their handlers, would have been a sour note to open on, and would undoubtedly have made this entire fiasco unbearably awkward. I was glad to see that things were, at the very least, a touch more professional than all that.

At some invisible signal, all the stares focused on VioletBlood and I lessened some infinitesimal degree, as if we had crossed a threshold with one step to the next. First one couple began to clap, and then others quickly joined them, the noise tumbling into an avalanche of applause. Some unseen lighting designer, maybe from a hidden alcove or loft, opened a valve and an illusionary flame-edged spotlight flared into limelight, illuminating us against the hall's wood-paneled wall.

This is almost worse, I thought. I didn't say it, because even I could tell that LoveBlood absolutely adored the attention.

Tail swishing as she held my arm just tightly enough for her grip to be possessive, VioletBlood radiated smug pride like flaring magnesium, burning so brightly that she all but left echoing shadows in her wake. Riding high on returning home in glory, I swallowed whatever comment I might have made and allowed VioletBlood to keep her hold.

This was not the day's first concession. I had submitted earlier to the tender mercy of VioletBlood's maids to be coiffed, primped, and dressed for this occasion, all essentially for the same reason as I was biting my tongue now. It was not the first time I would be stuffed in a ball gown for a formal event and it would not be the last. Though, it would be my first time attending a ball with that cursed crown perched atop my head, perhaps that was what caused the insufferable pause. Fortunately, wearing my Preserver Crown meant I could beg off the Legionary pins that VioletBlood had adorned her own tresses with.

Small mercies.

At least we had a very nice private dinner beforehand and doing this for LoveBlood made the gown and everything else bearable. Though the shoes were a bit much.

I was still getting used to how enthusiastic my excitable Zephyr were over tonight's costume. I put the blame for their hyper behavior squarely on the shoulders of one of VioletBlood's former childhood maids. A dressmaker who had been called back to the colors by the name of BirchTalon, she had taken the liberty of sewing little spinning toys into the shoulders, sleeves, ribbons and petticoats. Our air spirits had found these devices, and eager to play, spun them around in a frenzy of excitement.

The spinning itself did little, other than release a steady, minute supply of powdered sugar to engorge and excite the Zephyr. It was the air spirit's constant eagerness that puffed up our gowns and flared various bows and ornaments in dramatic waves. Suzette, a hairstylist who had similarly returned from service, had woven similar, if smaller, spinning ornaments into our hair that made sure our curled tresses were at their most bouncy. And with my hair growing out since the posting to the Crocelli jungles, Suzette had plenty to work with.

My LoveBlood wanted to make an impression.

And by the cheering reaction, she had accomplished just that.

Unlike when we had first arrived in the barony, only the shortened versions of our names and titles were called out when we stopped at the top of the stairs. I held her hand as we then descended the half-flight of steps from the plaza-side entrance to the ballroom proper.

Glancing around the waiting crowd, I saw that we were not the only people wearing gowns. Ours, however, were unquestionably the largest and clearly the most expensive and intricate of the specimens on display.

Another not-so-subtle display of wealth and prestige from the lady of the holding. And, I supposed, from her plus one.

At the bottom of the stairs, VioletBlood spread her wings and offered a formal bow to the assembled townsfolk. Withholding my bemusement, I did the same, taking care to keep my wings from bumping against my partner's.

Once again, the entertainment spirits lingered over us, drawn by the sugar and the stimulating accessories; their coronas highlighted us in dancing flames and sparkling droplets. The control exercised by the firedancer and watersinger over their spirit friends was, even for eyes jaded by military precision, impressive. Tight enough that the presence of our Zephyr did not distract or scare the creatures, but without any hint of regimentation touching their carefree frolic.

Status display over, VioletBlood and I began to mingle with the guests, who thankfully had enough class to not all mob us at once. The barrage of names and titles was such a deluge of debutantes that it almost made me thankful for the lessons Mima Lumina Academy imparted to me at the capital and the briefing LoveBlood had given me on the drive over.

On the surface, it wasn't anything I wasn't used to from formal functions in my role as an officer of the Germanian military. I'd gone to my fair share of balls, state dinners, and even publicity events. The main difference was that, by and large, compared to the upper crust of Germania, the nobility of Diyu tended to be more… vivacious

"Ah, Miss Palmer?" I said after bowing to a tall woman, her sharp dark blue features and pale green wings throwing up a card in some mental filing room and returning her name..

"Yes, Countess. Charmed to make your acquaintance," Miss Palmer said. She wore an elegant and sleek evening dress whose minimalistic design stood in marked contrast with my own ruffled confection. Her black hair was cut into a short bob, which she had decorated with a pair of Legion pins that marked her as a second reserve artillerist.

"My compliments on the new greenhouse, we saw it on the way in. My fiancee adores your digestives."

VioletBlood blushed.

Miss Palmer smiled. "My thanks, Countess."

As VioletBlood thankfully stepped in to take over the smalltalk, I glanced towards one of the wait-staff circulating the room. Correctly interpreting my signal, she came up with a drink tray bearing some desperately needed relief for my parched throat.

After sipping some surprisingly good amber tea, I was restored enough to contribute a few polite comments to the ongoing chatter, trying to match names from my mental catalog to faces as we circulated.

"It is lovely to have you back; such a shame you cannot stay long, but duty to the Imperatrix calls us all," a guilder with coiffed platinum hair assured my Baroness, a patronizing echo ringing in her voice.

"We all do our part, Madame Iuno," VioletBlood replied, her own tone carefully ignoring the minor slight. " 'Tis the church's teachings that the strongest wings bear the heaviest burdens," she added before sipping her wine.

"Well said," Madame Iuno sniffed before finishing her small schnapps glass.

"But please, do not allow me detain you," VioletBlood's voice was full of malicious cheer, her grin full of sadistic fangs. "This is an event to be merry and mingle!"

"Though, if you want to talk business, I'm sure my seneschal can arrange an appointment to get an update on guild production numbers." LoveBlood gestured to her aid in the corner, just before her fangs flashed again, "Or you could ask my darling fiancee for her take on the numbers. I'm sure she'd love to sink her teeth into all the juicy details."

Dutifully, I flashed my own fangs in a smile, actually quite intrigued by the prospect of taking a sidebar out from this party to discuss business and financials. "Oh, I'd be more than happy to talk aurei with you."

Madame Iuno's eyes darted between the swishing hems of our billowing gowns. Her lips pursed as she wrung her hands. I had to admit that LoveBlood's crimson satin indulgence was impressive, especially with how it showed off her stocking-clad legs and her ruby wedge heels which, to my frustration, were a couple inches shorter than the almost ballet style lobster-claw like shoes I had been saddled with.

"I will ring her up," the guilder said diplomatically, before bowing her horns and swishing off.

I didn't bother to hold back my sigh this time, "And I was hoping for a nice fun conversation in here…"

"Please, you think she'd be able to keep up with you?" Smirking, VioletBlood watched her go. "You'd be bored in seconds, and spitting mad in minutes. How much longer do you think it'd take for you to send her flitting off like some frightened bat?"

"I can control myself," I said defensively. "It's not like I'm that intimidating."

VioletBlood shook her head with a soft smile on her lips, "Some of them still think I'm a little girl they can ignore and brush aside," she quietly murmured.

"Some?"

Though VioletBlood's voice had been tinged with a bit of melancholy, it still took me a moment to realize that she must be referring to the vassals who had known her parents and had been placed to take advantage of her after their passing. She had, I thought, known her parents for far too short a time, and had been forced to take over their responsibilities far too early, without any of the advantages I had enjoyed in my own early start.

I gave her a little pulse of comfort.

"My family still has plenty of allies, and most are willing to see the kind of Baroness I would become," my fiancee said, a tiny hint of uncertainty still present in her voice.

"You have proven yourself," I assured her, pairing the emotional pulse with a more tangible gesture, squeezing her hand in support.

"Of course! I brought you here, didn't I?" she asked, trying to smother her tremors of uncertainty with another haughty smirk. As she surveyed the crowd, her tail possessively wrapped around my leg. "Dance?"

My own tail swished back and forth as my gaze surveyed the floor. If we were going to be the center of attention why not earn it? "Do you want to lead?"

"Oh, for a change of pace?" VioletBlood teased as she held out her hand.

Offering my arm, her slim fingers closed over mine and she took me out onto the dance floor. As the band started something fast-paced and almost jazzy, with the brass section coming to the fore, I was secretly glad to let my fiancee take the lead.

That was not to say that my job was entirely easy. Yes she had the initiative but I still had to do everything she did but backwards and in higher heels. I could only curse my short stature so much before it became trite, and at least in this life my height was less of an extreme, but it was still an occasional chore.

Despite the breezy tempo, the first couple dances were almost sedate as LoveBlood seemed to get our measure. After being reassured that neither of us would tumble into a ruffled pile of chiffon and satin, she bowed to the pressing will of our Zephyr and things grew... intense.

Now, it was the band that was struggling to keep up as the crowd parted and, with our wings extended, we got a bit... aerial. There must have been a couple of cameras in the audience as a few flashbulbs went off. Not ones to shy from adding a flair, the firedancer and watersinger put their spirits to work making everything that much more photogenic. Not that I had room to object to being the center of attention.

Our sky-dancing started simply enough, disregarding the precision necessary to remain in such close proximity with another woman on the wing without catching one another in the downdraft of our wings. VioletBlood twirled me around, my skirts billowing out around us like fluffy cumuli. As the swing's speed increased, my fiancee lifted me up fully into her arms, signaling I should stop flying under my own power, and spiraled groundwards, spinning me around to land by her side and, bleeding off my momentum, to twist around her.

The crowd and the other dancers' excitement rose along with a flurry of applause and cheers, buoying up our own spirits. Basking in the attention, LoveBlood gave me a smirk. Pointing at the band, she made an imperious gesture commanding a faster tempo.

The entertainment obliged.

The beat raced like a fearstruck heart, the strings skirling and the horns blaring their brassy alarm. With no time to think about the next move or the next song, trapped completely in the present, I focused only on following my fiancee's lead. VioletBlood's wings pulled in and I spun back to her waiting arms before she bent forward and I practically rolled over her back.

It was hard not to bask in the jubilation around us, especially as many of the dance partners were gamely trying to keep up, even if no one was quite so daring as to take to the sky above the swirling couples.

I will confess that we might have been showboating when, standing upon my fiancee's shoulders, I managed to raise one leg up a brief arabesque before executing a basic pirouette, hanging still in the air for a heartbeat before my wings snapped back and I fell into LoveBlood's waiting arms.

This time, the silent surprise that broke into a wave of applause and flashbulbs felt earned.

Soon enough we had reached the end of our figurative dance card. The hosts did have actual cards we could have gotten to be filled out by interested parties, but LoveBlood wanted to show me off as her fiancee. An as I had little desire to dance with strangers, I was not one to object to said exclusivity. We had escaped to a wrought-iron railed mezzanine overlooking the dance floor. Behind us were the mouth-watering scents from the kitchens and a few booth-like alcoves that served as quiet places to have a meal.

My breathing had slowed back to normal, and I admit it was nice to have my Zephyr cool off my body, despite my gown's layers. LoveBlood had freshened her makeup and used her own spirits to get her curls back to her customary perfection.

"I think we gave them quite the show," VioletBlood said as she plucked a tiny fluted glass filled with an astringent aperitif from a passing waiter.

For my part, I merely took a glass of water garnished with a sweet citrus wedge. "I'm happy to have been a help."

"Oh? Is that all you're happy to have?" LoveBlood leaned forward, practically pressing her own decolletage against mine. "I know you had fun out there. Come now, no need to be so secretive… Not with me."

My tail flicked a bit and then I exhaled. There was no need to be coy around my own fiancee. "It was nice to show off." I allowed a smile to cross my face.

Giving her own predatory grin, my LoveBlood shifted so she could lean her head on mine as she went back to looking at the far more sedate dancers below us. "And… we can have a bit more fun tonight before all the ritual and ceremony of tomorrow. Fun… of a more discreet variety…"

"We spend one day away from Visha and you get all adventurous," I teased before lifting my glass.

"I didn't see you objecting down on the dance floor." Sipping her drink, VioletBlood's tail flicked. "The Islander Girl will be arriving tomorrow with LavenderFang. We should do something special for Victorious, and also for my cousin, I suppose."

"Do you have something in mind?" I asked.

My fiancee gave me a toothy smile. "She is a fan of cards, no?"

++++

"BARONESS RETURNS, IMPERIAL HEROINE IN TOW!

"Baroness VioletBlood has returned home for a short reprieve from her tour in the Imperial Legions with her lovely fiancee, the subject of the hit opera 'Concentus Caelorum Beatorum', Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust. To the delight of those invited to the ball celebrating her return, our Baroness led the demure Countess in a riveting display of ballet and acrobatics. The Baroness will remain here to celebrate Saber's Watch (Martyred Lady obsrv.) before returning to the Countess's demesne for a second celebration (Hallowed Lady obsrv.), and then she will be back to her duty to our beloved Imperatrix. Let's all send our well wishes to our lovely Baroness and make this a wonderful homecoming for her and her betrothed."

Demure? What kind of inept scribbler would use that adjective to describe me?

I carefully put down today's edition of "Loquacious Lilla" next to my brunch, careful not to tear the not entirely insipid rag to shreds. That explained why we had gotten so many looks during today's service. I should have known that opera would come back to haunt me, but when representatives of Censor CloudFire present you a list of names and plotlines for an opera you do not decline the offer.

The barony's biggest broadsheet rested somewhere between a society gossip rag and a farmer's periodical. The baronial weather report jostled elbows with detailed accounts about various soirees and debutante balls for page real estate, and advertisements for governesses and dance tutors sat uneasily next to notices of livestock available to stud or wholesale sillage available at competitive prices. While I could only guess at the comparative quality of the harpies crowing over the latest scandal, the all-important weather report and seasonal planting schedules were, at the very least, prepared by local diviners of solid repute.

I was amused to note that, although last night's entertainment had captured a firm grip upon the front page, the territory below the fold ignored it entirely. Instead, focusing on a surprisingly detailed talk about possible changes in the spirit binding used in agricultural golems, without mention of a single society name or any manner of sartory. The rest of the paper continued in much the same vein, flitting from topic to topic without much care to stay on any particular brand, but making sure to address each subject with a suitably professional level of attention.

Eying the rest of the stack of newsprint with bemusement, I returned to my meal. We were in a nice cafe that overlooked a plaza complete with a holiday market. LoveBlood swore to the quality of the pastries and sausages here and I could not disagree, this was her hometown.

The other broadsheets could wait. They had, indeed, already waited. That was yesterday's "Bovitar Brief", and the "Silvan Herald" was three days old. Speedier news was one advantage the railway would bring, at least to my County.

On the topic of the unfolding scandal related to that same line extension, Inspector Focht's queries had slowed the work on the railway, with many of the existing lines undergoing thorough re-examination with existing inspection certification and surveyor paperwork. A side benefit of this breather was that we had more time to iron out deals with county notables, a task LoveBlood had been quite helpful with. This mini-vacation to the barony was more for her than it was for me, and mostly a reward for her ongoing assistance and support. Or at least I kept telling myself that.

Pondering, I ate a sausage. At least the picture accompanying the article was quite flattering. Various spirits had been caught highlighting us in a mid-swooping twirl; even that cursed tiara reflected the camera flash in a quite nice way.

"Thinking about the news?" VioletBlood asked from across the little table. We were on an outside patio of a restaurant that was on the town's main square. An awning, windbreak, and gas heater did an admirable job of keeping the late morning chill at bay.

"Just thinking if we should subscribe to a wire service," I remarked, trying to not take issue with the article.

Tail flicking, my fiancee gave me a knowing look. "Well, I'm going to have that article clipped."

Did she think I would object?

"Perhaps it can be framed Ma'am?" Reinhild diffidently asked as she stood to one side.

I had offered to give her a seat, but the kitsune had insisted she had eaten breakfast while I had been rehearsing before this morning's service.

"Lovely idea," VioletBlood said before taking a drink of her juice and watching the plaza.

I carefully kept my lips sealed.

"If it pleases, my Lady, I can inquire with the paper's offices and see if they have any additional photos. I dare say they may be eager to provide more mementos." My maid's swaying tails told me she found something amusing.

Grinning, VioletBlood looked at me.

"Yes, that does sound good," I agreed, calling their bluff. I would not be so easily wound up this early in the morning. Besides, the picture the editor had chosen for the front page was, on second thought, a bit overly dramatic, with me about to fall into LoveBlood's arms. It would be nice if they had something that showed us enjoying a less frenetic dance.

"A lovely idea," VioletBlood laughed as she ate some of her poached duck eggs.

"It would..." I trailed off as I heard some... music. That was not too strange, as there were plenty of entertainers plying their trade at the nearby market fair. But what I heard was a jaunty marching tune.

As the new music got louder, the band and their stately procession came into view. At the head was a woman in a blue uniform playing a silver xylophone, her tail swaying with the beat. And behind her in a neat little line waddled about a dozen large grey geese. Seemingly moving with a sense of gravitas, the orange-billed birds stepped in time with about half also swinging their long necks to the beat.

Bringing up the rear was another woman in a matching uniform. Wearing a tall black fur hat, she played a quartet of tenor drums hung in front of her. A mob of cheering broodlings followed behind her at a surprisingly respectful distance.

"Oh it's the Geese Parade!" VioletBlood clapped her hands in glee. "They're early today, I wonder if it's because of the rain forecasted for later today."

"The... Geese Parade?" I asked, as the birds slowly marched around the fair plaza and out of sight.

My fiancee scoffed. "What part confuses you?"

My arm swept about around us.

"You just pointed to all of it."

"Yes."

Behind me, I heard Reinhild stifle a giggle.

"Are they going to be cooked for the vigil?" I asked, trying to make sense of the procession. For a moment I envisioned the Lady of the Railroad being the peppy march leader, but instead of geese she was herding all those who had sinned against the iron rails.

"DarkStar forbid!" VioletBlood's eyes widened. "We're not some backwater savages! Imagine being so terribly morbid, marching these proud geese to their destined doom." She shook her head as if trying to comprehend the unthinkable. "No, the vigil geese have already been slaughtered, cleaned, and dressed."

"Ah, then those in the parade are the lucky ones?" I nodded along. Rituals were important, after all. I considered informing LoveBlood that the citizens of my county were the kind of "backwoods savages" to host a March of the Destined Dead for their aged livestock. In the end, I decided not to be a poor sport and ruin the surprise.

"No, don't be silly!" My fiancee shook her head. "Do you know how long it takes to gain a goose's trust?"

Every turn in this conversation thus far has been a hard left, I bit back a sigh.

"Can't say I have," I said instead. VioletBlood was proud of her Barony's tradition, so letting her describe it to me was the least I could do.

"Well it's a lot!" LoveBlood huffed, her pink cheeks puffing out and coloring with the deep violet of her name, "Even if you start with hatchlings, training them to follow takes time and commitment. But that distrust is useful, they can't be bribed like the common guard dog."

Looking at the blushing pout on her face, even I had to admit my fiancee looked adorable. It was so hard to stay mad at her when she got like this, even for things as absurd as this. It was the simple earnestness in her eyes, really. It made appreciating her… uncomplicated.

"Ah, so more akin to treasured familiars then?" I asked as the image changed in my mind. The Lady was lo longer leading geese to slaughter but was instead parading her minions. I almost laughed at the mental image of Miss Crow and RainsFord the huntress obediently waddling behind the Railroad Lady.

Then I stopped because, for all I knew, the Railroad Lady would have liked the idea too.

"Familiar is a bit strong, but handlers do bond with their geese, especially if they raise them from hatchings." VioletBlood's eyes darted to the side. "Huh, we have a guest."

I looked over to see a familiar person approach with an open wave; she was Miss Palmer. As opposed to the evening wear of last night, she wore a sober dark green dress with black accents at the neckline and on the calf-length flared hem. I was a bit jealous that she and VioletBlood were able to dress down for church.

Where I wore a garment that felt as bulky as the gown I had danced in. The material of the nun's habit was certainly thicker and a fair big glossier.

VioletBlood exchanged a polite greeting with her subject.

"May I thank you for helping with today's morning service?" Miss Palmer asked, turning to me, breaking my mild hope that she just wanted to talk with the Baroness.

"Of course you may," VioletBlood assured. "My countess is far too humble about her piety-"

I was about to open my mouth to counter, but my fiancee barreled on like a freight train.

"-but that just means it is up to us to sing her praises," VioletBlood concluded. If we weren't so close, I'd have missed the mirth she pulsed my way.

The landholder bowed her horns to me. "It was nice to see both major sects working together during the holidays."

"Is that not the normal way?" I quietly asked. I did not want to enhance any sectarian strife in the barony, but, given how I was dressed, my own allegiance in the Church was rather blatant.

Miss Palmer simply gave us a cryptic smile as her tail flicked to and fro. The non-answer said both too much and too little.

"Please sit; have you had breakfast?" VioletBlood asked to break the silence, as she spread some potted beef on a toasted slice of rye-bread. It was apparently a local specialty, and a bit low class relative to the fresh fish, cured ham, duck eggs, and pastries that made up the rest of her brunch

"Thank you, you're too kind," Miss Palmer said as Reinhild pulled out a chair for her. The black-haired woman nodded to the kitsune.

A waitress came up, bowed to me after making the sign of DarkStar and took Miss Palmer's order.

I supposed the waitress was a member of Our Martyred Lady. It was good that she did not seem to object to my efforts.

"It was a good service, and we of the Hallowed Lady are on good terms with our sister sect," Miss Palmer assured as she was given a glass of cider by the returning waitress.

The waitress gave an agreeable emotional pulse before she went off to another table.

"I'm glad I could help. And the rituals were familiar, if slightly different. Not odd! " I hastened to add, not wanting to cause offence. "Just different."

"The hymns are more somber," Miss Palmer agreed.

"Yes! Exactly," I said, that was a safe point of divergence to talk about.

VioletBlood blinked. "But I thought you liked dirges?"

"Did I ever say I didn't like the service?" I shot back with a raised brow. "I am simply noting that it was a… an interesting change of pace."

"Fair enough." Miss Palmer nodded. "And I appreciate you dressing up."

"I didn't want to cause offense," I bowed my head.

"You went well beyond!" Miss Palmer smiled. "It was a wonderful display of devotion, arriving in full regalia with the habit and headdress."

I held back a frown. Did I overdress? Still that's better than under dressing and causing offense that way. Causing sectarian strife was the last thing I wanted to do here.

Of course… I could have also caused offense by over dressing and seeming arrogant. That treasonous little voice in my head nagged, Perhaps they think that I was attempting to upstage them on their own home ground? Like arriving at a bride's wedding in a better dress?

Curse these demons and their social games!

"Things seem well enough, but how has the barony really been holding up?" VioletBlood asked as she cut open one of her eggs. There was an undercurrent of anxiety in her voice as she asked, and I sent her a little pulse of comfort.

"Nothing too exciting, my Lady. At least we had none of the hustle and bustle of your betrothed's county or the tragedy in Craw Holler." Miss Palmer gazed into her cup. "The railway seems to be quite the troublesome prospect."


"Such is the price of progress," I admitted with a shrug, "So many moving pieces, so many spinning wheels… something was bound to slip through the cracks. DarkStar's mercy that we could catch the fire before it could grow far worse."

A small smile rose on her face, Miss Palmer proceeded to give a precis of the local situation with an efficiency that a seneschal would be proud of. She managed to complete her economic briefing by the time her brunch was brought to the table. In terms of agricultural and spirit production, things seemed to be going well enough. However, there seemed to be some discord.

"The Campbells are surveying and building up supplies for a new retention pond. On their main property, fed by the Aquila Creek," Miss Palmer said, which engendered a groan on VioletBlood's part.

"Mistress Cordelia cannot let things rest," my fiancee murmured.

I raised an eyebrow and gave them both an inquisitive emotional pulse.

"Mistress Cordelia heads the Campbell clan. They do a lot of spirit calling and training as well as some vineyards," VioletBlood said.

"They are rivals with the Musick family, headed by Matron AnnaBelle. They are mostly in orchards but also have a shop doing cabinetry and woodworking."

"Those are their main holding, they have a lot of connections among the families in the barony and are rivals in a lot of town interests," VioletBlood added.

"Ah, more rivalries," I said, giving a stiff nod. No wonder VioletBlood was so eager to help me untangle the complex power dynamics in my own county.

"Their main holdings are close, not quite sharing a border, but they do share..." VioletBlood trailed off her green eyes challenging.

"A river or other waterway? Dare I suppose that the Campbells are upstream and that retention pond is cutting off, or reducing the water going to the Musicks?" I ventured.

LoveBlood smiled at me.

Miss Palmer bowed her horns to me. "Not yet, but come spring, that water shortage will hurt their fruit trees."

"Who controls the water rights?" In this province at least, the upstream owner would have far more power over anyone else.

"It depends my Ladies, on if they shall dam that creek or just divert water to that new retention pond," Miss Palmer said as she began carving into her brunch of soup, sausages, and strudel.

"Either way the Musicks will file a grievance. Do they still have more friends on the Water Board?"

Miss Palmer waggled her hand. "The balance is about even, after Matron AnnaBelle's grand niece married Mistress Cordelia's cousin twice removed."

"Intermarriages are common between the two families?"

"Both are long established families," Miss Palmer explained, before carving off a slice of sausage and strudel each, primly spearing the two with her fork, and scooped the combination into her slim lips without a hint of mess. It was not the strangest combination of dessert and meat, and honestly I could see Visha trying it.

"Thankfully, they're both of Our Hallowed Lady, so the Barony avoided any religious angle on the feud. Well, at least this feud," VioletBlood looked pensive. "This has been building up?"

"It's not as bad as back in aught three, about a decade after the War," Miss Palmer sipped her coffee with a faraway look. "Your grandmother had to sort that mess out, Baroness."

VioletBlood's lips pursed, and I saw her tail wrap around the leg of the chair. "I heard the stories."

Doubtless, "mess" was quite the euphemism. I wracked my brain thinking of a way to solve this situation for my fiancee. It was bad enough that I had to deal with multiple issues that had festered in my absence from my own fief, the least I could do was reduce LoveBlood's burden.

"What are they doing with that extra water? It's for their vineyards I presume?" I asked, maybe if I could find an alternative for the Campbells that would nip this issue in the bud.

"That's correct, Cordelia wants to increase production," Miss Palmer agreed.

I considered our options. If she just wanted more grapes then did it have to be grown there? Perhaps a land deal could be made, give her farmlands that did not exacerbate this feud. Surely logic would prevail, though funding could help.

A frown tugged at my face, and I found myself biting my thumb. So we'll have to manage the expenses, would this be baronial funds or personal?

VioletBlood glanced at me and gave a slight smile. "The Rufina River is still flowing?"

"It got dredged last year, why?" Miss Palmer paused then laughed. "Oh, clever."

I tilted my head.

"The Rufina River passes close to AnnaBelle's holdings. A canal could be cut to supply the family. The canal would cut across a tree farm, but that's owned by a friend of the BoneWing family, which means my seneschal can arrange the water supply." VioletBlood explained.

"It's not as convenient as simply using the Aquila Creek," Miss Palmer nodded.

"I'm sure they can live with a little inconvenience if it fills their purse and a backup is prudent."

"Which puts less pressure on the Water Council? Good idea," I said, shooting my fiancee an approving smirk. It was a fine showing of LoveBlood's superiority of local knowledge.

The redhead gave me a smug look as she fluffed her curls.

I bowed my horns to her social superiority. Sometimes, it was easier to feed her ego, especially when she was right. Which, begrudgingly, had become more often. She really was quite remarkable for one without the advantages of myself and Visha.

"Any other issues?" VioletBlood asked our guest.

"That feud is the main one, but there's a few other concerns."

"Well, I have been gone for a few years." VioletBlood's levity tried to mask the guilt she felt.

I put my hand on hers as she and Miss Palmer discussed a few other issues of local gossip and caught up on things. The dark-haired woman had finished her meal, and after sipping a small glass of her own herbal digestif made her good-byes.

"It is good that you have a friend of the family," I remarked once it was just the two of us.

Just the two of us?

Catching Reinhild out of the corner of my eye, I winced. When had I started not counting the help?

VioletBlood gave me one of her teasing smirks as she ate some more of her favored bread and meat paste. She dabbed at her lips before responding. "'Friend of the family' is a bit strong. Miss Palmer's family is happy to be supportive of barony's noble line. And if that means she plays chatterbox with a teenage pilot? Then she's happy to play her part… so long as I play mine."

If I was being perfectly honest, that sounded like a typical and entirely equitable, even appealing social contract to me. Of course, if there was one thing that I had learned about most people in my many lives, it was that I did not have a "typical" view of social contracts. So I attempted to… help.

"I'm sure it's not that..." I hesitated, "transactional?"

"Oh please! You, of all people, should know that a transactional relationship can be perfectly amicable!" the redhead laughed.

"I am trying to be understanding," I said, shrugging my wings. "Just because I think it would be a fair and desirable social contract doesn't mean you do."

"Thank you, dear," she chuckled and squeezed my hand, "I appreciate the attempt, but don't try and deny who you are just to placate me. I'm a big girl who can handle the ills of the world. I have the fancy suit and rank pins and everything."

"Fair enough," I sighed, relaxing back into my chair.

I was about to resume my meal when I felt and then saw Visha approaching with a kitsune and VioletBlood's cousin following at her heels.

"Islander Girl, please help. Our Countess is trying to protect us from the big bad world and all the frightening yet dashing women lurking in the shadows, scheming to seduce poor helpless girls like us into their arms," VioletBlood said, her voice dripping with drama.

"We can't have that, can we?" Visha strode into the restaurant wearing a smirk that matched the long fur-trimmed coat over her shoulders. "There's only so much room in the shadows for schemers, after all. Lulu might feel a bit put out."

"True," I nodded as two spaces were made on the table. "She does like making her plots, and those odd grins, where she thinks no one can see her."

LoveBlood and Visha shared a strange look over the table.

"What?" I frowned.

"Nothing, dear," Visha smiled as she gathered up her green skirt to sit down. Things ended up a bit cramped and LavenderFang frowned before trying to sit closer to her cousin than Visha.

"Fine then," I huffed, deciding to switch tracks. "How was the call?"

"Oh, good!" My wingwoman straightened out the yellow blouse under her fur coat, and smiled merrily as she gave her order to the perky waitress. "The big city was a bit overwhelming for the little ones at first, and, honestly, for my moms too, but after touring the Imperial Gardens, enjoying their hotel's very nice buffet, and taking in a show, they're all settled in."

"Which show?" VioletBlood asked, her voice far too innocent.

Visha's smile grew as she shared a conspiratorial look with the redhead. "Why, 'Concentus Caelorum Beatorum,' of course!"

"Oh? It's playing in the capital? After all these years? There must have been a revival." VioletBlood's faux disbelief on full display.

LavenderFang gave a ladylike snort. "Did you really send the Islander Girl's family to an opera glorifying the Countess here?" she asked her cousin.

"How presumptuous!" VioletBlood gasped with transparent offence.

"You what?" I gave them a distinctly unimpressed look.

"We're very proud of you and like to show off your accomplishments," Visha said. I decided I wouldn't be mollified by their praise today.

"I'm not," I growled, turning my frustrations back to my brunch, what little of it was left. "Especially not packaged in some insipid little propaganda play that pretties up every tail-biting horror like it's something to aspire to. What, I'm supposed to be proud of being used as a tool to trick broodlings into wasting the prime of their future by throwing their bodies into the furnace of war?"

As I stabbed a final cut of sausage with more force than was strictly necessary, I barely noticed Visha and VioletBlood trading nervous looks over the table.

"Well… we think that your accomplishments are worth celebrating," VioletBlood tried, extending a wing to wrap around my shoulders as she sent out a comforting pulse of support. "Besides, it's not like the Shadow family saw that dreadful Jungle Fox moving picture."

"Um…" Visha grimaced, tail curling in on itself behind her back. "They might have been planning to see that one today."

I took a careful breath, making sure to control all the tension in my body. I tried not to think about the way my claw bit into the wooden table, or my tail coiled tightly against the chair's leg. Soon enough, the waitress returned with a tray full of food and drink, providing enough distraction to pull me out of my head.

"It can't be that bad. Even by cinema standards..." LavenderFang's eyes went around the table as she spread butter and honey on her pancakes.

"Well... it was a fictionalized account of our time in the jungles of House Crocelli," Visha buttered her sourdough mini baguette. "A heavily fictionalized account."

"Instead of proper ritual plate, the production team decided it would be far better to have the actress playing me wear a frilly ballerina outfit and carry a sparkly scepter," I sneered. "It's not even a proper ballerina set! The least they could have done was use the ballet uniforms the Legion's Ballet Troupes wear, but noooo, that might have looked too respectable."

"A sparkly scepter… that shot magical rainbow beams. Really, illusion magic almost makes for a more impressive looking attack than an actual evocation Lance," VioletBlood smirked. "Besides, the secondary cast was pretty good!"

"You mean the rival noble pilot with curly pink hair?" I asked dryly. Something had always struck me as odd watching those motion pictures, something about the dichotomy of myself being the blonde heroine with a pink haired rival, but I could never quite pin it down. It almost felt as if it should have been the other way around or something. Thankfully, the public relations folk who handled my Imperial Heroine propaganda had never suggested that I dye my hair.

I might have been forced to resort to violence.

VioletBlood's smile grew. "Truly, an inspiration to us all!"

Keeping in a sigh, I shook my head. Why did I put up with these two again?

"Oh," VioletBlood snapped her fingers, as if some idea occurred to her. "Islander Girl, I may have learned something interesting about a local clothier shopkeep. She goes by the name of Beatrix Abernathy; one of my former maids sometimes sells her wares near her storefront and recently learned that she is a part of the local tiger alley.

"A rather eclectic devotee to Our Martyred Lady, it would seem the honorable Miss Abernathy holds an open Faro game every Saber'sWatch that runs all afternoon and ends at the start of the vigil."

At the suggestion of gambling, Visha's tail coiled like a snake scenting new prey and her eyes filled with simmering delight. "Oh? Sounds like a lovely tradition. Does she play a nice Ladies' Faro?"

The redhead chuckled. "Such respectable entertainment is, alas, not an option on the small gambler's sidestreet of my fair barony. I believe she plays by Tempeln rules or perhaps the Stuss variant. Besides," she added, slyly sweetening the pot, "I hear that Miss Abernathy happens to be very well acquainted with leather and latex fashions of all types and proprieties."

"Well…" Visha's lips spread wide as her eyes flashed, interest firmly hooked. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of sport."

Faro was one of the games Visha and GreyDawn played with their fellow pilots, especially from First and Second Squadron. Personally, I had little patience for such things, in any of my lives. With its baroque rules, Faro was merely an especially egregious example. I could remember being encouraged by my early coworkers to join them, thinking that it was a simple math problem to be solved in my first life, and attempting to put my skill with calculus and finances to work at "card counting".

It hadn't taken me long to be disabused of that notion, and I swiftly learned that it took more than a bit of skill with numbers to beat the luck of the cards. Or "luck", as it were. After a few embarrassing failures, I'd learned that games of chance simply weren't for me. Visha seemed to take to them like a duck to water, or a goose I suppose, and had managed to use it to strike up quite regular games with our old comrades of the 203rd in the last life, or our current demi-wing in this one.

That's a lot of faces I won't be seeing again, isn't it? A wave of melancholy passed over me as it struck me just how long I'd been alive. Not just my first life, not just the 203rd, but even this last deployment… we'll need to recruit more players for the table when our leave is over.

"Excellent! As I may have been able to secure an open seat or two." VioletBlood clapped her hands. "And since you probably only have some 'road money' on you for light expenses, I would be more than willing to front you for today's gaming."

Visha's eyes sparkled. "Are you sure of that, Baroness?"

VioletBlood's tail swished. "I'm confident it'll be a wise investment."

"It sounds like you'll all be having a fun time," LavenderFang groused.

"Oh I have not forgotten you, dear cousin!" VioletBlood's said, her smile sharpening.

LavenderFang's eyes darted about. "Oh, you didn't. I can just spend time in the market fair or just read in the manor house."

"Good news! Lady Patricia BoneWing is waiting for you in the manor. I'm sure my seneschal has plenty of lessons for you."

"Lessons?" I couldn't tell if she was worried or excited at the prospect.

"Oh yes, she's got plenty of guilders and councilwomen to talk to, and you can be there helping her." VioletBlood paused to eat more of her brunch.

"But today?"

"Especially today of all days. Cousin, you do need to start thinking about your future."

LavenderFang looked down at her plate. "I'm a bit young for that. I have time. Right?"

I was about to open my mouth but VioletBlood gave me a look. When we were her age we had already been deployed. Or at least LoveBlood was preparing for our mission to House Vualia. That wasn't even including my last life, when I'd already been considered a decorated veteran officer of the bloodiest war of the century by that age.

Though, none of those were what I would call the best examples for a young lady to look up to, so I could see where VioletBlood was coming from.

"Of course you do!" Visha cheered the young lady. "Your cousin is just looking out for you."

"I don't have to supervise the Islander Girl as she cleans out a bunch of locals again," asserted VioletBlood, as haughty as ever. "I shall join you and Lady Patricia for my seneschal's rounds."

VioletBlood, it seemed, was managing her cousin as well as her barony.

That seemed to brighten LavenderFang's spirits. "Oh, yeah that sounds good."

"Excellent! You could have helped the Countess get ready for the vigil but I figured you would have something more fun to do," VioletBlood laughed.

"Ugh, no thank you," LavenderFang made a face as she sipped her juice. "Oh, but we'll still have time to do some shopping at the market fair, right?"

I gave their laughter an exaggerated roll of my eyes, "I suppose I can pencil it into my schedule. Reinhild?"

Dutifully, my maid appeared at my side with my agenda and a pencil in hand. "Yes, Countess."

"Thank you," I nodded, taking them in hand and flipping to the right page. "Now them, ladies, what shall today's plans be?"

With that, the conversation turned to lighter topics about our time in the Barony of Lilla.

++++++

Bright winter light streamed through the stained-glass window over the altar of my chapel. For a moment, the bundle of yarrow sticks shivered in my gloved hand as my Zephyr, sensing my apprehension, swirled about. Candles flickered at the corners of the altar and incense filled my nose.

Mouth feeling dry, I closed my eyes and focused my mind. "DarkStar has died. DarkStar has risen. DarkStar will come again."

Mother Clementia spoke a beat later, her clear voice joining mine.

"Hallowed DarkStar, we seek Your wisdom as we make important decisions in our lives. Guide our steps and help us to make choices that honor You and align with Your will. Blessed DarkStar, Your word is a lamp in our talons and a light on our path to the place where we will fulfill Your purpose," we recited, completely synchronized in the old chant. Eyes still closed, I felt my mother's cool skin as she took my free hand in hers.

"Help us to discern Your voice clearly amidst all others, and give us the serenity to understand what steps we need to take to bring peace, trusting in Your direction. Help and give us the courage to act in love and forgiveness. Let Your serenity fill our hearts and guide our actions," we implored, our voices one as Mother sprinkled holy water from an ampoule onto the bundle of sticks. The water had been acquired on a pilgrimage years ago, before she had taken her vows as a full Sister.

"Amen," we concluded, our voices echoing in the small chapel as I tossed the oracle bundle. My wings blew upward as the spirits flew about in glee at the performance.

Twisting in the spirit-filled air, the small branches fell in a bouncing clatter upon a woven mat that Mother had spread before the altar for just this purpose.

As the echoes of our prayer retreated, silence returned to the small chapel. Eyes still closed, I took a moment to enjoy the peace and serenity while it lasted. In the days after returning from VioletBlood's barony, my manor house had taken in more guests; with the arrival of Visha's family later today, the complex would be filled to bursting.

I quirked a lip at the thought of taking solace and comfort in the quiet of a holy place. Perhaps it cut across the grain of previous existences, but even back then, I had been able to find peace in other places important to me. Despite Being X's arrogant bombast, I had respected the sisters of my second life and had taken comfort in the quiet moments they provided.

I had never believed Being X was truly the "God Almighty" they worshiped, for all his desperate claims. Even from our first meeting, I had sniffed him out as a devil in holy garments, that had to be why he took such offense to me. If anything, I felt pity for the old faithful, that all their pious work would go unrewarded, or worse, twisted into the machinations of that greedy liar.

Certainly, they were human, and as with all humans, there was a fair share of sinners and saints amongst even the "holiest" echelons of the church. The sisters of the orphanage, at least, I knew were far more kind than a brat like me had deserved. The Cardinals in the holy city of Roma, I couldn't say, but I knew that Being X had turned far too many fanatics to his will.

I wonder if Mary ever truly learned of his lies?

I could hope.

A threshold on a dwelling was established by those who made it a home; similarly it was only the value we placed upon such holy places that made them sacred. Holiness was entirely subjective, and solely the province of the worshipper. Grinding the stones of the chapel into the finest of powder and sieving them with the finest of sieves would not yield an atom of purity or a molecule of faith. What business of any others, least of all a certain failure of a would-be god, was it that I should deem this place holy by the merits it held in my eyes?

"You cast a divination and the first thing you do is bow your head and avoid looking at the portents?" Mother Clementia's tone was lightly teasing but she pulsed with approval, her hand still resting upon mine.

"The sticks will remain," I stated after taking a moment to make sure my Zephyr did not disrupt the pattern.

Regretfully opening my eyes, I let them drift up as I blinked into focus, then tilted my head. There certainly was a pattern within the cast of the oracle, if not exactly the pattern I had expected.

The three dozen yarrow stalks of varying lengths lay upon the woven mat provided by my mother, itself painted with the four pointed star of the Hallowed Lady. Each quadrant of matting demarcated by said star held within the familiar sigil another four pointed star. The sub-division continued with each subsequent set of stars smaller and more numerous until the ebony mat was a veritable star field.

Each, however, of the four-pointed stars was subtly unique. They were of different colors, proportions, and thicknesses, and most were inscribed with scripture, even the ones so small that the tiniest of brushes must have been required to paint their crisp, rigidly perfect lines.

Lacquered surface or no, part of my apprehension was tossing anything, even a handful of twigs, upon such a piece of art.

"For a time, they will remain," Mother agreed, kneeling down to peer at the pattern. "Did you feel Her will?"

I ruffled my feathers as I gave the question due consideration. "I… can't say that I did."

As a religion that denied the divinity of our object of veneration as a matter of doctrine, the Church of DarkStar was rather deist with regards to the Great Maker, the Almighty, or whatever term one used to describe the creator of the universe. However, that rationalistic, almost distant, view applied to the Great Maker, most DarkStar sects were quite willing to seek signs and portents in order to divine Her will.

Mother tilted her head, bright violet eyes boring into mine.

Looking away, I coughed. "I'm not saying I didn't just...."

"Hmm…" She held my gaze for a moment more before she glanced away, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, "In this case, Daughter mine, I believe your customary humility may be well-warranted."

Next to the effigy of DarkStar in her serene aspect, which had overseen our attempt of divination, stood the relic censer whose care I had been entrusted with. It was full of burning incense, spiraling columns of aromatic smoke curling from the offerings, and a pair of thick, leather-bound tomes by its side.

I tried not to think of the ancient, dented silvery ball and what being given custodianship for its care meant. It was easier to watch Mother place her hand on the Book of DarkStar and mutter a prayer before going to Collected Apocrypha Volume One.

Visha occasionally teased me about my apparent favor, or even fervor, for the Church of DarkStar, despite my loathing for Being X and all his fanatics. The truth was that as much as I hated Being X, I too hated Blind Fanaticism: communism, fascism, nationalism, and yes, blind faith in religion so extreme it blotted out all logic. That was, however, not always the case with religion, and oftentimes a good healthy faith encouraged strong discourse on what the proper tenets of the holy order was.

Such discourse had resulted in the Apocrypha mother laying her hands on now.

It had begun in the 603rd year of the Third Epoch, when the Church of DarkStar had called for and held a great council, named the Celeia Summit, where the major sects met to debate the scriptural canon. As with many great religions, particularly those both hierarchical and imperial, whenever certain questions grew too pressing or thorny to ignore, a conclave was called to debate such matters.

As a testament to the potential for excellent judgment and rational thinking even within religion, when faith played an important part in administration bureaucracy became not only necessary, but inevitable. As no rational bureaucracy could oblige muddled documentation, so came the debates of doctrine, canon law, and which holy texts were sufficiently holy. Thus were the great councils called to apply the clean, functional, logic of the bureaucrat to the word of the divine.

In a way, these summits were the sausage factories of the Church, feeding the gory mess of tangled and conflicting scriptures and faiths into the grinding mill of rigorous debate, spinning out neatly packaged doctrine and prayers for the masses to feast upon in organized society.

Just the thought is making me hungry…I privately admitted to myself.

Still, it was far better than allowing the squabbling sects to splinter the Church into a hundred different directions at once, where the Divine Word fed to the masses would have no chance of being regulated. Furthermore, the Celeia Summit in particular had troubled itself to define official doctrine regarding the translation of scripture into languages other than the then-new Silvan Latin.

Further proof of the Church's philosophy of thorough debate came in 1402 ND, when a follow-up council established a second canon. What better evidence could I find that this was a healthy and rational theology? Only the most moribund and fanatical of religions, in the throes of death, would so tightly bind themselves to dogma and blind faith. Any living bureaucracy, especially one populated by a thriving culture of preachers and practitioners, would generate endless disputes over points so trivial and fine in their distinction that the laity could, with good cause, describe them as completely meaningless in application.

Through the Council of 1402 came the adoption of the Deuterocanon, which represented a minor split, as the DarkStar Church maintained slight disagreements with the new compendium. While not everything was accepted into the official canon, there were some select texts and articles that had been considered, at the very least, not heretical. Thus, the Collected Apocrypha of DarkStar was born.

Mother went to the Book of Portents which contained page after page of diagrams showing the various castings, auguries, omens, and their interpretations. I was surprised to note that this table of oracles represented one of the more well-worn sections of Mother's volume.

Even my copy had a few ruffled sections, as a couple of the divinations were considered significant. Specifically, the pattern laid out in Portents 3:14. It was one of the few apocrypha passages referenced in the main Book of DarkStar

The spiraling pattern with its bars and lobes looked something like three kanji in a circle joined at their bottom. Though maybe I was reading too much into the pattern on the page. Mother and I both looked at the printing of the carefully rendered design. Portents 3:14 was the omen, the divination. It was the sign that She would Return.

"It's… not exactly the same," I defended. That was a saving grace. If I had managed to cast that pattern, at minimum, I would suspect some manner of chicanery or foul play. At worst, I would be cursing Uriel to the high heavens. "The angles don't quite line up."

"And I know you would never try to make it look like that," Mother noted, wrapping a comforting wing around my shoulders as she took the book in her hands and flipped to a new page, then another. Turning to face the mat with its divination she looked contemplative. "The southern and eastern quadrants are the most distinct from the pattern."

"Maybe it's an early Portent?" I ventured. "We were asking for personal guidance."

"Good eye, Daughter." Mother's tail swishes as she turned to that section and went through a few more pages before stopping. "Yes... maybe. I can see a strong resemblance to Portents 2:71"

I gazed at the interpretation written under that lesser pattern. "Someone from the past will return, someone important to our faith?" I asked. As divinations went it was sufficiently vague to be non-falsifiable.

"Or your faith; you did the casting," Mother noted. "That does explain why Portent 2:71 is similar to the pattern."

"At least it's not about that cursed railroad business," I murmured.

"It is probably not about it," Mother Clementia corrected. "I trust you're getting some serenity with that?"

"The Court date for the Apology has been scheduled," I released a breath. I admitted it was sooner and closer than I liked. "The Duchess's 'guest' has been quite helpful and Inspector Focht has found most of those on her list."

"Well, that should bring the victims some closure," Mother Clementia said.

I did not bother to trouble her by pointing out that only most of those fugitives had been found alive. There had been more than a few bodies strung up on coaling towers, dismembered underneath bridges, or as one salacious rumor put it, stuffed into a disused engine's firebox. Personally, I doubted that last one. As if that madwoman would soil one of her precious engines in such a crude way. Though I suppose I couldn't discount another vigilante, we were demons who held very potent grudges after all.

Mother put a hand on my arm. "I know it's hard, but sometimes the most we can do to people is offer them wisdom and comfort. And some will reject even that."

I let out a breath filled with loosened tension from her words. Yet, even as Mother assuaged one concerned, another festered.

"Is... it wrong to be relieved that I didn't cast Portent 3:14?" I asked as my tail coiled nervously.

"Daughter, you summoned a battlecruiser and now you worry about casting the pattern that every star-eyed young sister dreams of?" For some reason, Mother's pride in me rose as she asked the question.

I looked down at my shoes. "I'm... concerned. Not at the idea of Her return, but that such a divination would bring undue attention to me."

I had, quite literally, spent more than enough time as the personal project for higher order beings for one lifetime. I wasn't much looking forward to the idea of so quickly falling into the orbit of another, even if this was one I was one I was willingly giving my devotion.

Mother nodded. Clearly, she had similar concerns as we both were pointedly ignoring that the sticks I had tossed looked a bit closer to Portent 3:14 than Portent 2:71. "Divination is not completely accurate. Portents can be inscrutable, not to mention the influence of free will."

"But they must not be total hokum. Otherwise the military and law enforcement wouldn't use auguries and other tools," I admitted. False positives were still rampant and most "evidence" collected by such esoteric means were inadmissible in court. However, as a means to directing agents towards finding that more actionable intelligence, those tools had proven to be better than random luck. And culturally, most agencies considered it about as respectable in an intelligence chain as saying "a little birdy told me".

Especially given that there were even odds of a literal bird actually being a credible source of information in this reality. Not to mention that how birds flocked was another form of divination.

The cold hearted rationalist of my first life bristled at the thought of all this superstitious nonsense. The soldier who flew into life or death battles on currents of magic and fought such violent and exotic dangers that I had to rely on trust and instinct as much as calculated logic? The demoness who had been reborn by an angel as payment for killing a devil in holy raiments, only to end up doing it again?

That was another matter entirely.

At a certain point, I thought as I stared at the attempted scrying before me, the only logical answer… is that the world is not so clean and logical as we may wish.

To waste more time raging against irrationality than accepting it and adapting… That would be true insanity.

Mother put an arm around my shoulder. "Quite so. Divinations are evergreen, and will always appeal to those who seek knowledge. There is a lot of confirmation after the fact, but as you say... if the oracles didn't provide results, then prospectors, military intelligence, and provincial inspectors wouldn't put any weight on them."

"Well, I could make a few comments about the wisdom of military intelligence, but I don't want to say obscenities in front of a nun, especially in Her house," I dryly said.

Chuckling, Mother squeezed me tighter. "Thank you for indulging me in this, Daughter."

A purr like rumble emerged between us as I leaned into her embrace. The moment seemed to last as the candles flickered, the incense smoldered, and the passage of clouds caused the light streaming through the windows to wax and wane.

"Do you want to sketch out the pattern? Or I can fetch a camera?" Mother offered.

"No, no, I can draw it myself..." I assured, slipping out of the hug and going to a pew where I had put my divination box and retrieved my DarkStar journal. "If there is one thing I can thank military intelligence for, it's for drilling this kind of stuff into our heads."

The batted leather-bound little journal had followed me to multiple postings, though to a slight feeling of guilt, most of the time it had stayed buried in the bottom of my duffle bag.

Pushing those thoughts away, I went to one of the remaining fresh pages and made note of the date, time, and weather before citing the prayer we used and the relevant patterns. Only after all that, did I start sketching out the casting.

As I worked, mother put out the candles, snuffed the incense, and started packing up the other divination tools. Once I finished drawing, we then packed up the sticks and rolled up the mat.

"I wouldn't hate it if DarkStar came back," I said.

Mother looked up at me with a curious gaze.

I cleared my throat.

"In my lifetime, that is," I clarified. "But… the arrogance of assuming that I'll be the one to find Her Portent. That I'll be the chosen one is… I've seen that kind of blind fanaticism before. I've seen where it leads…"

I felt a shiver trail down my spine into a twitch at the tip of my tail. "I'm certainly not eager to follow it into that mass grave."

"I see," Mother appeared beside me, broom in hand. She wore a contemplative look on her face, violet eyes searching me like they did all those years ago, when I was merely a Broodling. Then, she smiled, and pride spilled out from form like moonlight, "You do a mother credit with your maturity, Daughter mine. Few acolytes would share your wisdom or foresight. I only wish you had come upon yours more… gently."

I winced. Perhaps I'd given away more than I should. Besides, the last person I wanted to worry about me was my Mother. "It's nothing. I'm used to it."

Her smile dimmed somewhat. No less proud, no less honest, but more somber now. "I'm sure you are, Daughter Mine. I'm sure you are."

After that, we set to work cleaning the chapel and we swept in companionable silence for a while. The chapel had to be made ready for the mid day readings and the evening service.

It was near the end of our cleaning when Reinhild entered the chapel and bowed. "Mistress, the Shadow family is about to arrive."

"Do I have time to change?" I frowned.

The kitsune looked my glossy habit up and down. "I dare say that my Mistress is already properly dressed."

Mother held up a hand to conceal her mirth.

"Well... I'm sure LoveBlood and my Duchess will be wearing gowns. Where is Visha?"

"Miss Shadow is in the main foyer. The Countess is comforting her nerves."

"VioletBlood is…comforting her?" I briefly wondered if I should ask if the sun was exploding while I was at it. "Perhaps you should lead on, Reinhild."

"Don't worry, I can take care of things here," Mother Clementia assured. "You did get a 'practice' vigil courtesy of the other sect, so we can help make ours right and proper."

I weighed my Mother's comment, measuring how to best disagree with her. The SabersWatch vigil hosted by the Order of Our Martyred Lady was an almost bleak affair. That said, preparing for the vigil was not the most pressing matter on my plate, nor was it quite where I wanted Mother's help quite at this moment.

"Oh, you're coming too," I said, taking her hand.

Mother blinked, both at the implicit negation and at the contact. Despite us both wearing gloves this was technically a bit forward on my part, but she squeezed back and smiled. "Of course, Daughter. I would love to meet the Shadow family with you."

Closing the chapel doors, we went down the covered walkway and back into the main building and took a short trip into the foyer. The main doors were already open into the glass-roofed circular drive with its bubbling fountain.

I first noted that no cars had arrived before blinking at the strange sight. It was as Reinhild had described: for all the worlds it looked like LoveBlood was trying to comfort Visha.

Which, well… the last time I could remember having to comfort Visha, it had been over the stakes of metaphysical reality, our immortal souls, and me nearly getting shot in the face with something designed to give a capital ship a black eye. The last time I could remember LoveBlood genuinely trying to comfort someone was…

Hmm.

Also after getting nearly blotted out of the sky by capital grade artillery. I realized with narrowed eyes. I feel like I'm sensing a pattern here, and I don't like it.

This calls for more training.

"Now, now, Islander Girl, you know our Duchess will love you in anything you wear. And you got plenty of winnings back in Lilla, so this dress is hardly a waste," the redhead said in what was almost a soothing voice, while she awkwardly tried to pat Visha's shoulder without actually touching her wing or any other skin.

Demons, really, I rolled my eyes. I can understand their empathic sensitivity, but this is ridiculous. Or maybe it's nobles... or demonic nobles.

Normally, I might applaud my Baroness' for actually showing caution, but for once I thought she was being a bit too polite. Striding towards them I allowed an old-fashioned grin to slide onto my lips as I peeled off my gloves. "Aw...how sweet! But there's no need to be shy. We're not strangers, are we?" I called out, giving a bright, toothy smile.

My girls were startled at my sudden presence. The shift in their demeanor was clear from the corners of their eyes to the straightening of their tails. I didn't know why they looked so worried, though. It was just me, after all.

"LoveBlood was just..." Visha coughed. "Being polite."

"Yes, very polite," VioletBlood nodded seriously as she pulled her hand back

"But?" I prodded calmly as I slowly rolled up my gloves.

"We... well..." Visha looked at me, unsure. Despite flying through literal and figurative hell over two lifetimes, the woman who could come out of the Western Front with a smile still had her limits.

"It's just..." LoveBlood's noble hauteur slipped a bit at my pressure.

"You don't like each other enough to give a real hug?" I asked, raising my eyebrow, allowing a mixture of cold amusement and disbelief to leak into my voice. "To even hold hands?"

"Give them time, they are still getting close," Mother Clementia suggested.

I timed my steps carefully, deciding to allow myself a bit of fun and slide into the old theatrics. My tail arched carefully sinuous trails through the air as I shook my head and clicked my tongue, perfectly in time with each clack of my shoe, "Tsk, tsk, tsk… such a shame. After all we've been through together, I thought we had an understanding, girls."

"No... I can- I can help her!" VioletBlood reached her arm out but hesitated, her tail curling back.

Visha gave a smile that would have fooled anyone who didn't know her well. "Oh, no, it wouldn't be any trouble at all!"

My smile grew two fangs wider as I strode right up to them, my habit and wimple fluttering behind.


"Oh?" I leaned in, my voice a hushed whisper, that nonetheless carried all the presence of command. "Well, then why don't you be good girls for me, and give each other a hug?"

They hesitated. Their eyes met. Visha swallowed through a plastered-on smile. LoveBlood's grimace couldn't even be called that much.

"O-okay." VioletBlood nodded.

"Well... sure," Visha agreed.

And like wooden dolls, they moved to embrace. So stiff, so forced, so devoid of emotion. I had to cut them off.

"Oh, and like you mean it." I beamed, smiling as bright and innocent as canned sunshine. "After all, I would certainly hate to think that my precious Vs couldn't get along..."

My legs bent slightly, tail twisting and swishing behind me as I looked up at with cunning delight. It was oh so rare that I got to play with them in my palm, after all, and revenge could be oh so sweet.

My tail swished as I looked up at them. "Or, do I need to get my vinewood rod and put some discipline in my subordinates?" I teasingly asked while Mother gave a mock gasp.

The two Legionary fliers stared gobsmacked, stunned disbelief clear in their eyes as their tails gave nearly synchronic twitches.

Deciding to be proactive in light of their hesitation, I pounced. Sure, I may have been the shortest of the three on paper, but not to some comedically insurmountable degree; Visha, the tallest of us, had no more than half a head on me now. Besides what is such a paltry limitation of flesh when one strikes with the element of speed, surprise, and a surety of purpose?

I had trained my girls well, and they had all the hair trigger instincts of true combat veterans, but my earlier mental flashbang had left them flat footed and wide open. By the time they realized what was happening, it was already too late.

My legs snapped out, wings unfurled, arms outstretched, all in a graceful and carefully calculated lunge perfected in countless hours of demonic ballet. My fingers slipped delicately around the napes of their necks, the contact of bare skin was almost electric, deepening our emotional connection. The wide breadth of my wingspan spread out and wrapped us all together as one in a feathery soft embrace, just as we had done many times before.

If they were going to be such blind fools to ignore the bond they shared, I would just have to force them to see it.

For the moment, they were both beside themselves, washed away in the push and pull of emotional resonance. But so too were they with me physically, wrapped up in an affectionate embrace born from a need to beat it into their thick skull that they not only could but did care for each other as much as they did me. A few wrinkles appeared, hesitation and anxiety bubbling to the surface, easily smoothed over as I kindly reminded them that we were more together than we had ever been apart.

They were my girls. We were a team. The last thing I would permit was some kind of juvenile pulp drama to disrupt my unit's cohesion.

Besides, a smirk played along my lips. It's nice to be able to both reward and surprise my Vs.

If I couldn't kill it with kindness, then I'd just have to put them through hell together until they learned to get along. Although… using a Vinewood staff probably wouldn't hurt.

I felt my Duchess and two of my sisters descend the main staircase in the swish of skirts and click of heels. Their approach caused a spike in the emotions of my Vs. Knowing I had to be their rock, I pulled them down, deeper into my embrace. My hands slid up to rest along their jaws, the strength of my wings wrapping them in tighter as I brought their heads down to lie against my chest.

They stared up at me, naked shock in their eyes, and something else I couldn't quite place. Something… more.

"If you aren't going to see sense yourselves," I smirked, "I'll just have to make you."

And with that, my tail whipped out, spiraling to catch up Visha and LoveBlood's twitching tails.

"See?" I assured. "Aren't things much clearer this way?"

Mutely, they nodded their heads. The only thing they could do as lightning coursed under our veins from the emotional circuit.

"Oh.... my," Mother Clementia noted, not bothering to conceal her amusement.

"It seems our fledgling has learned to be more assertive with her feelings," Doctrix RedWing quietly remarked to Lady Castellan ArgentShroud, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Quite," ArgentShroud, our elder sister, stated

"Did you teach her that?" Duchess SilverFlight asked Clementia.

"No," Mother Clementia said as she glanced out the front windows. "But it certainly gets results."

"They are all pilots; I would guess being direct helps," Doctrix RedWing teased.

I released my subordinates. Visha did need to have her wits about her to meet with her family.

"You are not wrong, dear Sister," ArgentShroud's lean face broke into a smile. She wore rank pins in her pale blue hair that showed her own reserve Legionary flier status.

"It was just... unexpected!" Baroness VioletBlood finally managed to cry. Then, noticing the assembled nobility, her training kicked in after a single blink of surprise. In a single elegant gesture, she somehow managed to straighten the disordered folds of her lavender gown, brush back an errant curl, and drop into a neatly mannered curtsy.

I may have adjusted my own black habit behind her. Solely out of solidarity, of course. While Visha fretted over her Islander-style thigh-length saffron-colored tunic next to me, presumably for similar reasons. A silver brooch holding the patterned shoulder-length cloak she had draped around her wings flashed with reflected light as she moved.

"Be at ease," the Duchess assured my Vs with a wave, her face commendably stoic.

Visha's eyes darted away with a slight tail-curling worry.

"We'll try to not overwhelm your family, Primus Shadow," SilverFlight assured.

"It's not just that." Visha seemed to want to squeeze the ends of her tunic. "I haven't seen them since I transferred; it's been... about two years."

"But you did catch up. Perhaps talking on the phone isn't quite the same, but... it is still something, no?" VioletBlood offered, she even left her hand on Visha's shoulder this time.

Inwardly, I smirked triumphantly at the proof of my victory over my Vs.

Squeezing her back hand, Visha nodded. "No… you're right, it's helped, but…"

"But-" SilverFlight paused, then tilted her head. "Ah, it is time."

More kitsune maids seemingly materialized as the convoy arrived. A pair of throaty motorcycles driven by two of Mother's servants were in the vanguard. They were followed by two Mammon Motors extended touring cars, one mine and one my sister's, and at the convoy's end rolled a very familiar high-hooded, solidly-built panel truck.

I gave my Duchess a questioning look.

"I simply wanted to ensure that the Shadow family was well cared for," she replied, her smile all fangs. "After all, they are under the protection of our wings, are they not?"

I had a fair idea what game my Duchess was getting at in this instance, and I agreed with the general thrust and nodded.

Now holding my hand, Visha went to the doors, and before the maids could open them all the way, led us across the threshold.

The Shadow brood was already exiting the vehicles and I found myself slowing along with VioletBlood. Being war orphans, large families were something of an abstraction to us.

And the Shadows were a very large family.

The family matriarch, Fancisca Shadow was out and, despite their best efforts, helping the maids unload luggage. Moving with a sense of purpose, the woman clearly did not like to be idle. With bark brown hair in a long fall tied with a green leaf-shaped hair clip and adorned with small silver flowers, she had the same coloring as Visha and even wore a silk tunic tightened with a red sash and a cloak and brooch that looked remarkably like what my wing-woman was wearing.

Her mate, Ema Shadow, had her ebony hair cut into a short pageboy, which was further constrained by a fish-shaped set of clips. In her leather pants with stirrups, shiny bustier and latex coat, she looked more like an Amber Island business woman than a demon on vacation. Though, if my understanding of her role as the family business's head of marketing and customer relations was accurate, that was probably true enough. Bearing a smile just like Visha's on a familiar, if older face, the tall woman was busy herding half a dozen broodlings.

Not all of them were her daughters. The two most excitable in the little mob were the four year old twin daughters of Visha's older sister, Ines, and her mate Marcella EmberTalon.

The two mothers were struggling to balance their awe at their destination with the never easy task of dealing with young demons who had been cooped up for far too long.

Seemingly overcome by seeing her family again, Visha blinked at the chaos.

"Don't just stand there and watch, Vicky!" Ines shouted, her voice having a trace of the flowing accent of the Megeran central islands. "Gloria's run off!"

"They're so fluffy!" a moppet with dark green hair cried as she ran around in a frilly dress making a direct line for one of my maids.

"It's okay," Visha said, as she sprinted over and, trusting in her longer stride, managed to pick up the squirming girl. "You've gotten so big!"

Gloria blinked up at my wingwoman. "Aunt Vicky?" the young girl asked. "Momma's told me about you. Is this your big house?"

Visha's smile did not crack, but I could feel the wound in her heart. She had been away from her family for a long time; she had requested a transfer clear across the House to be with me. "It's my fiancee, Tauria's house," she said focusing on the joy she felt at being reunited

I stepped closer and gave a little wave.

Finally persuaded that the luggage was in hand, Fancisca had approached. The family matriarch's green eyes flicked around as she took in myself, my family, my fiancee, and my retainers.

Her mate, Ema, had joined us, the youngest member of the Shadow family squirming in her arms. Vania, a barely three year old broodling, was chewing on a teething ring, which bore a collection of hollow beads that could freely spin to further stimulate and distract the incessant gnawer.

"Countess DiamondDust," Fanciacasaid in a Megeran accent as she and her wife bowed to me. "Or is it Novitiate Sister at the moment, my Lady?"

"There's no need for formality," I waved it away, half out of concern that if the out of town matriarch had to deal with any more pressure she might melt, half out of concern that if Visha tried to bottle up any more stress she might pop. "We are all family here."

Francisca's eyes went to Duchess SilverFlight.

"My daughter speaks the truth," my Mother gave a disarming smile. "You have a lovely family, Matriarch Shadow. I've read my daughter's reports, and seen quite enough with my own eyes. Victorious has certainly been a fine treasure in the air, to say nothing of the firm foundation of sensibility she gives them on the ground."

"Aye, that she does, Your Grace." Fancisca Shadow breathed out a smile, half amused, half relieved. She bowed her head before turning to Visha.

"Mother? Um, yes that is true I suppose" Visha's voice sounded strangely bashful and just a bit exotic as her dormant Islander accent began to make itself heard once more, now that she was in the company of her fellow Northern Atropia Sea Islanders.

"When we spoke on that fancy hotel's fancy telephone device," Visha's mother said. "You surely weren't kidding when you said there was plenty of space for all the girls."

"Not as much as you would think; though not just on account of all of my daughters and granddaughters, but also because Tauria enjoys hosting many of the girls from her orphanage," my Duchess added.

"And it's not just her opening rooms and kitchens," Mother Clementia chimed in with pride. "Tauria helps with the cooking, gives the girls exercise and games, offers readings and study in Scripture and of course helps the older ones with scholarship and apprenticeship applications."

Fancisca gave me a respectful nod.

I simply returned it, but got a soft jab in the side.

"She's evaluating her daughter's future mate," VioletBlood all but hissed in my ear as her tail slapped against me again. "Go on! Be social!"

With a redheaded baroness practically flopped on my side, I gave a brittle smile. "LoveBlood everyone can hear you," I hissed through my fangs. She rolled her eyes at me! As if to say that was the point!

The treacherous little-!

"And this must be the Baroness we've heard so much about!" Ema cheered as the broodling watched with inquisitive eyes. A chubby hand reached out as if to play with VioletBlood's curls.

"Of course! It is I, VioletBlood the Bloody Baroness Ace of Lilla, ohoho!" my fiancee laughed behind a gloved hand as she bathed in the attention. "But as fine as I am, should you not feast your eyes on my fantastic fiance? My Countess is quite the gleaming jewel, is she not? Your daughter, Victorious, did quite well to catch her eye. But, I would expect nothing less from a pilot of her talents. My Countess respects nothing but the best."

LoveBlood winked theatrically at the parental pair, and it was all I could do not to roll my eyes. Visha's parents seemed taken by her performance, though, given by the wry smirks on their lips. Even little Vania seemed swept up in her showmanship, eyes filled with stars as she stared at my Baroness's bouncing locks.

Visha, who had now picked up both of her scrambling nieces, gave the redhead a warm smile.

"So, you really are a nun and a pilot and a countess?" Rita, one of Visha's younger sisters, asked, without any of her mothers' accents and with all the bluntness only a young teen can convey. She wore tights and a green tunic over her long-limbed swimmer's body, and was busily employing every inch of those arms in trying to corral a set of six year old twins that almost looked identical.

"And a ballerina!" one of the twins, either Lyana or Soraria, added while both peered up at me. Tails quivering they looked up with a sense of awe that made me feel vaguely like I was some sort of fraud.

Fortunately, LoveBlood had no such qualms. "Yes she is! Why, we just had a fancy dance a couple days ago in my barony. It even made the papers, with dazzling pictures making a splash, which, of course, made the front page!"

"I have managed to make a few accomplishments, but I assure that it is the result of long hours of hard, dedicated work as a team, not the dashing heroics of some fabled savior like you may have heard in the dramas," I deflected, wielding humility like a shield.

My Duchess gave me a look.

"Pardon me," I coughed before bowing my horns. "Fancisca and Ema Shadow, please be welcome in County Larium and enjoy the hospitality of my household."

"Aye, we are honored to be your guests," Fancisca nodded, her green eyes both amused by the pomp but pleasantly surprised by being so honored.

"If you'll indulge me to start introductions with my family." I gestured to my Duchess, sisters, and at Mother Clementia.

For a mostly redundant ceremony, things went well. Visha had already described her family to us, and she had described us to them, but I agreed with the role and importance of such social rituals.

However, the naming of names was almost cut short when the broodlings already in residence burst past the warding kitsune. The little terrors spilled out of the main entrance, disgorged like a wave of imps called up from the pit to bedevil an unsuspecting world. All excited tails and flapping wings, they cheered when their surging wave met up with and enfolded the younger half of the Shadow family.

The maids had regrouped, only to be chased around the grass by cheering broodlings.

Fancisca cracked a smile while her wife Ema made sure little Vania could keep up with the others. Though I noticed that the youngest Shadow seemed to be rather light on her feet and her teething ring's beads spun by unseen talons.

All the while, Visha stood there, watching. Trying to blend into the shadows. She almost succeeded.

"Are you alright?" I prodded gently.

I'd seen this kind of behavior from her before. She wasn't in the worst state she'd ever been, but…

"I'm fine," Visha shook her head, voice tight. "It's just…they've all grown so much, you know?"

"They're great," I agreed, holding her hand in mine. The last time my wingwoman had seen Vania, her baby sister was literally one.

Visha nodded.

"It must have been a wonderful childhood," VioletBlood said and bowed her horns to Fancisca.

"Thank you, Baroness," the Shadow matriarch returned the gesture. She turned, watching as her broodlings played, a smile on her lips. "I wasn't sure how things would work out when we moved here. After those faceless harpies stole our mothers' land, we had to go runn'n to House BlackSky with barely more than the clothes on our backs. Coulda been the end of us, right there and then, had we not seized opportunity where she dared strike.

"Ah, but we made it work for us. We managed to build ourselves up again with a bit 'o spit and polish. Expand the Family Business out into a grand old operation after we'd dragged our sorry selves onto Amber Island all those years ago," Francisca turned a smirk towards Visha, "and it looks like my sweet girl's look'n into some expansion herself. Fine work, lass."

Visha's face flushed and she dipped her head. "Thank you, Mother."

Fancisca's gaze followed Rita's willowy form as she chased her younger twin sisters before being mobbed by more broodlings. "She may ask you about flight school, Victorious."

"But, I thought she didn't have much affinity with Zephyr," Visha frowned. "Did that change?"

"Nae, not with her," Fancisca tipped her head to her youngest. "But she says she'd got enough to be a VTOL pilot."

"She's still a bit young," Visha's tail curled.

I gave her a reassuring emotional pulse as Reinhild and a couple maids had managed to get away from the terror of broodlings for long enough to organize refreshments and start circulating with drinks. It was mostly cider, along with soft and hard punch, but it was quite refreshing.

Fancisca gave the two of us an odd look, then snorted "Aye, that, she is."

"Perhaps a cadet program? Or some flight school? Amber Island does have a glider club just... south of Opalescence Bay," my Duchess noted.

"Rita has mentioned that," Fancisca exhaled and accepted a cup. "I suppose I can show the gifts we brought."

"Oh, we've still got time before SabersWatch," I waved off. Visha had mentioned that her family was more of the Hallowed Lady sect.

"Aye, but these gifts can be enjoyed well before the vigil." The Shadow matriarch's green eyes sparkled as she made a direct line for my cargo truck.

The engine was mounted high over the front axle making the hood look high, and the fenders and walls were all rounded giving the boxy vehicle a surprisingly sleek look. The gold filigree helped give the utilitarian vehicle a far more luxurious aesthetic than it truly deserved. I don't know who had told Reinhild to have it installed, I strongly suspected LoveBlood, but every time I looked at the gaudy thing I couldn't but roll my eyes at the extravagance wasted on something that was supposed to be a simple, functional, and economical transport.

Luggage was still all around the vehicles. Uwe had tried to put them in organized piles, but the silver fox had only been able to keep the broodlings from climbing upon them.

"Fact is, some of 'em may help with the celebration in a small way," Fancisca idly chatted as she went to the back of the truck. She gave a teardrop fender a fond pat. "Me Ema had us buy two of 'is model. I dinna ken what was going through her head at the time. Turns out that trucks are just as important as boats when it comes to running the family business, who'd a believed it? And it can stuff more in the boot than you'd think." She winked.

"Turns better too," I nodded along, agreeing with her taste in vehicles. "The engines are rather reliable as well, and easy to keep in good repair besides, as is the rest of the truck."

Fancisca grew a lopsided grin that almost startled me for how similar it was to some of Visha's looks, "Aye… that it is, lass. A nice study model it is. Got ours painted up a bit like yours too. Though… not quite as shiny."

"Ah…" I glanced aside nervously. "That… was probably VioletBlood's suggestion."

That earned a chuckle from Visha's mother.

"Does Marcella still help keep them running?" Visha asked, referring to her elder sister's mate.

"Aye, her marrying into the family helped the business," Fancisca nodded and gave myself and VioletBlood a calculating gaze. "Which..."

"My Countess DiamondDust is more than an Imperial Heroine. She has a head for numbers and knows all about merchandising," VioletBlood offered. "Those skills could be very useful to your family!"

"Aye, well if her taste in lasses and lorries is anything to go by, I think she'll go far for us," Fancisca teased.

"Mother!" Visha blushed

"Hah! Well, how about this to sweeten the deal!" LoveBlood offered with wide-eyed praise. "My darling has arranged to open a proper mushroom farm."

I shot her a halfhearted glare. "Don't make it sound like I'm some kind of reclusive eccentric."

Fancisca's eyes lit up. "Ah, well now, gentle Ladies, that is a proper business. Much good potential for fine profit there."

"Right?" I snapped to her, my concerns with LoveBlood forgotten as my tail swished with pride. "You wouldn't believe how many odd looks I've gotten over such a proven and economical investment!"

"Heh, aye, I might," Fancisca chuckled and shook her head as she went into the back of the tightly packed truck. "The right mushrooms can feed young fish for bait, stock, and food, and other mushrooms go great with seafood and can extend a meal for many mouths."

Reinhild stepped in to quietly help.

"Stew, lobscouse, and other such meals were common at the orphanage," I added. "Fresh when in season, but preserved was the norm."

"Then perhaps the other early gift will be appreciated." The Shadow Matriarch gave me a respectful nod before pulling out a small wooden crate. "Haven't had a brisk winter like this since.... before Amber Island," the woman sounded almost nostalgic, as she rubbed her hands.

Lowering the crate onto the ground, she gave it a fond pat. "There wasn't much we could take with us when they stole our mothers' land..."

Visha clasped her hands. "Mother, you didn't...."

"If there's anyone who would appreciate these items as more than mere baubles." Giving a small smile, Fancisca nodded to me and Mother Clementia.

She undid the latch and opened the hinged top lid to reveal a carefully packed box with a couple dozen decorations. They were old stars made of polished metal, crystal animals, blown glass ornaments, and statues of saints. It showed impressive skill to make sure such delicate cargo would not be damaged over such a long journey.

Clementia lowered her head and clasped her hands in prayer and after a beat I mirrored her gesture.

There was the sound of little feet and quick strides as the various broodlings, now merged into one gamboling mob, had rushed up.

Fears of the little terrors breaking family heirlooms flashed before me, but were unfounded. Maybe it was the distraction of the maid's fluffy tails, maybe it was Fancisca's stern presence, or maybe it was Mother SilverFlight's Zephyr forming a protective barrier.

"Thank you for trusting us with these, we'll put these at prime places of honor on our trees and mantle places," I promised as I met the Shadow matriarch's gaze. At least these decorations had emotional meaning.

Fancisca gave a stiff nod

Her mate Ema clapped. "Oh ,I just knew you'd love them."

"But now onto more practical matters," Fancisca said as she levered a few larger containers. These were banded in metal and had strapped down lids.

There were air exchange vents in the back of each crate and one hummed with a compressor. They were mobile chest freezers. Fleet surplus, if the plain painting and stenciled markings on the robust cases were any indication. If kept sealed, their thick insulation would ensure that only minimal power was required to keep the contents cold, and their power cells were easy to keep charged.

"Thanks to these devilish devices," Fancisca chuckled at her joke as she undid the latches on one of the crates. "We dinna have to bring salted or preserved wares and instead can bring more select stock. Aye, it's more of a distance than is our custom, but the Shadow family marks customer satisfaction in our product and service as a point of pride."

I nodded in agreement. That was an excellent way to build customer loyalty and separate oneself from the competition. It was reassuring that Visha's family had an entrepreneurial spirit.

With a flourish the matriarch fishmonger removed the lid and revealed rows pristine of dressed fish, fillets, and steaks of the finest seafood of the Atropia Sea. If the thermometer in one corner was an indication, they had all been kept at the optimal temperature with almost no frosting over the journey. There were even baskets of shrimp, crab and other crustaceans.

"We have Alecton Bream, Spring Crabs, Trosic Black Mackerel, Sailorfish, Night Perch, a variety of tuna from greenfin to potbelly to albacores and plenty more delights," Ema said as she took over from her mate.

The audience of broodlings stared at the bounty with stilled tails and rapt expressions. Eastern Province was not without our own seafood traditions, but the catch from Amber Island put our fisheries to shame. Something the members of the Shadow brood had clearly noticed, and their pride was nearly as obvious as our near-salivating reactions.

With a bit of general reluctance, the lid was returned to its place and locked back into place. Unfortunate, but sensible. The Shadow family had managed to guard and keep such precious cargo secure over a long journey by ship and rail; it would not due to lose it at this final juncture to the itchy and wandering claws of the broodlings.

Peering past her wife, Ema looked into the truck and pretended to count the number of cases, as if she did not know exactly their contents. The haul was most impressive. Her gold eyes lit with mirth as she stuck her head back out and studied the gathered crowd. "I suppose you were right to bring as much stock as we did," she told Fancisca.

"This is a very generous offering," my Duchess said, deeply bowing her horns. "Thank you."

And by Visha's somewhat glassy expression, that was no idle compliment. I could only guess at the value of it all, and how much it meant for a business like the Shadow's.

I looked to Reinhild, who for once had some of her impeccable composure slip. For a moment she looked as covetous as a kit with a basket of fresh eggs. I gave my head maid an inquisitive look and she nodded in the affirmative.

"Matriarch Shadow, we have only just started tonight's plans for dinner, and your expert input would be most welcome," I said, bowing my horns.

"The possible pairings from our wine cellar alone...." VioletBlood noted giving the refrigeration crates an awed look.

ArgentShroud and RedWing seemed pleased, especially as it was the former of my visiting sisters who had brought the wide selection of vintages to enliven my estate's somewhat understocked cellar. Even her consumable offerings had not been so expensive or expansive as this latest gift, though.

Tail swishing, Fancisca luxuriated for a few seconds at having impressed the various nobles. Then she clapped her hands, turned all business. "Ines, Victorious! These crates won't move themselves. Both of you get your mates to watch for curious little hands. Rita, you keep a mind on the ornaments and the lighter and non-perishable goods." She spoke with a clear authority that would make any centurion proud.

The Matriarch's attention then fell to me. "As the lady of the house, you must ken how to get your hands on some trolleys or carts here. Or maybe one of your fluffy servants will. We'll also need to get a path to your kitchens and their cold storage."

It was easy enough to peel away a few maids from minding broodlings to get the necessary equipment and to secure the cold store route. As I dispatched her after the carts, I could see that Reinhild was already mentally shifting the planned menus for the rest of the holiday feasts.

Once the crates were lifted onto the quickly arriving carts, moving them became quite easy. When they crossed the threshold and into the manor we all stepped back and I took Visha's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Your mothers certainly know how to make a first impression," I told her.

Visha laughed, though I could tell it was from the nerves, "And I was worried it would be a bit too much."

"Come now Victorious, you should know by now that 'too much' is just enough when dealing with Imperial Heroines," VioletBlood said as she put an arm around Visha's shoulder. "You did good, Islander Girl!"

++++++

I was no grandiose Imperial Heroine. I was not BlackSkyvian, but I was of the faith of her granddaughter. I knelt before the statue of DarkStar Defiant. The four holy wounds were rendered with harrowing detail in the carved marble. As I prayed, hands tightly clasped in front of my glossy black habit, my wings flexed against their fetters. My Zephyr were getting restless. I bore the discomfort of the needy spirits. In light of Her suffering, it was a minor burden.

"Sister Maaria RedLash, thank you for visiting," the Mother Superior addressed me in flowing Silvan Latin, after politely waiting for me to finish my devotions "I am sorry I could not meet you right away," the demon added in a serene voice.

"Please let me apologize, I am the one who showed up unannounced," I assured my fellow member of the Order of Our Martyred Lady. Despite learning fluent Silvan Latin as part of my education and, of course, it being the liturgical language of our Order, I was still marked with an Andromachin accent.

The time I had spent on the pilgrim's road in this foreign land had dusted off the rust on my conversational Latin, and I found that, in many private moments, I had begun to think in the language of House BlackSky instead of my native Lantian Jutish.

That's not your real native language, a poisonous voice whispered in my mind. Do you dare to speak that prideful human girl's language?

"Sister Maaria? You are away from home, but not too far," The grey-skinned woman's tone radiated calm compassion. Even if I had taken a vow of silence, the subtle markings on my habit would have marked me as a novice of the Andromachin branch of the Order. And if the Mother Superior were of a militant bent, she would have noted that the rank pins just visible under my wimple were not BlackSkyvian.

"I am. I think my pilgrimage will be a short one," I said as she led me down the cloister walk. The brevity was good, even if my leave time was limited; I was reluctant to spend too much time away from my Ritualista. Augments such as mine required careful examination and maintenance, and I was alone enough as it was.

Considerable resources had been spent training us and on the implants rooted deep within our bodies. Flyvabnet Command rightly saw us as elite pilots and critical defense assets. While other Houses made some use of such internal enchantments, it was only Andromache that spent such exorbitant resources on individual units and employed us on scale.

Being around proper ecclesiastical architecture was a balm; clearly the residents of this barony were prosperous enough to bring in a bountiful tithe. "Any other time, it would have been a much longer journey; clearly this change in my plans is Her will."

"May I ask why this is the time for your return and not earlier?" the Mother Superior inquired as we passed under a stained glass window featuring Saint BloodRuby, her sabre held high.

"Duty, ma'am," I replied, trying to keep my emotions from being overly intense. I was not obsessed; so I did not have to worry about that.

Her eyes went to the rank pins I wore and she bowed her head for a moment. "I see," her voice was steady.

"There is more," I gazed up at the Saint. I cared little for the commercialization of her Watch, which had made this provincial baronial town grating for me with all of its saccharine decorations. The soft-tailed Hallowed sect was in full celebration for their simulacrum of a pious Vigil. Thank DarkStar I had spent the real SabersWatch back in Andromache.

On my travels I had seen villages of honest, if simple, people; it was not their fault they were led to the wrong sect. Better even these weaklings than the pagans worshiping their trees and one-eyed gods, at least; soft-spined or not, they still revered and feared Her.

The Mother Superior waited as I exhaled and summoned my strength. My tail curled as I thought of the last year, the things I had learned about the Countess in between my training, deployments, and chaplain duties, and the more recent message I had received. I tried to separate the propaganda from the piety. "I heard that you had a guest to help you with this year's SabersWatch vigil. A young novitiate Sister from another sect?"

The demon's red eyes lit up. "Oh you mean Countess DiamondDust? Yes, she was here about ten days ago for the Vigil. A remarkable young woman. I could hardly believe she was of the Hallowed Lady."

My tail relaxed, but my spirits had risen in excitement. The blonde from my past, the one who had put me onto this path of penance was so very close. An Archangel had extended his grace to one who had been consumed by vengeance. I would not deny that my revenge had started from a righteous place, but my path had still led me to Judgment.

And I had been found waiting and too cowardly to face my sins before the Great Maker.

I could feel the smallest bit of nervousness emanating from the Mother Superior.

I bowed my head surprised at my own serenity. "Oh? I've read a lot of stories about her, but...."

The Mother Superior gave a chuckle. "Yes the Imperatrix and her Daughters do love a good Imperial Heroine. I was skeptical too, but talking to her allayed my suspicions. I suspect if she had not been raised in a Hallowed orphanage and become a sister to honor her mother, that she would have joined our sect."

"She was so very righteous and unbending," I agreed then coughed. "Or so the stories made her out to be."

The Mother Superior studied me for a long moment, her tail swishing. "And your pilgrimage leads you to Sister Tauria, the betrothed of our Baroness?"

"We are both pilots," I explained.

Her crimson eyes flicked to my hair pins. Unlike the BlackSkyvians, the ornaments I wore were not so gaudy as to say exactly what my role was in the corps, and my habit's long skirt and full-length gloves did much to conceal the runic tattoos, evocation interfaces, and signs of my augmentation.

"You flew together?" the Mother Superior asked.

I nodded, letting the half truth pass. "And we were something of rivals," I explained; which was slightly more honest. And it matched the public-consumption pulps about the "Jungle Fox". She had trained and done exercises with Andromachin pilots.

The Mother Superior's tail relaxed into an easy swish as we resumed walking. "If you'll come to the refectory, we can give you a meal and some information to help you on your journey."

I bowed my horns to her, and we exited the cloister walk and went down a short breezeway and through the doors into a hushed room. The sound of utensils on plates dominated. Any speaking was done in hushed tones, and that was only when expressions, hand gestures, or emotional pulses were insufficient.

Two rows of long tables were lit by the tall and narrow windows that went up the walls. Combined with the warmth of the kitchens and tall ceiling with dangling banners, the refectory felt like a comforting cavern.

The dozen sisters having their meals looked up, some were going over broadsheets, others over scripture. Most, after seeing I was a fellow sister, went back to their meals and their reading, but a few had their attention linger on me. I was new, and doubtless they could feel the intensity of my faith, and the focus of my purpose. I suppose it also helped that I was here at the invitation of their superior.

I bowed to them and followed the Mother Superior to the serving station.

The smell of hearty ham, potato, and cabbage soup was quite appetizing. There was also a pile of rye crispbreads. The dried and long-lasting bread was very familiar and a sign that this part of House BlackSky, being so close to the border with Andromache, was not too foreign.

A pleasant surprise was the dollop of honey and pat of butter. It was a small indulgence but not enough for me to worry that the Mother Superior was being too soft on her Sisters.

Taking my platter, I went to an empty corner of one of the tables. Bowing my head, I silently prayed.

When I looked up the Mother Superior had quietly deposited a pile of broadsheets next to my wooden tray. There were a couple editions of the "Bovitar Brief", but most were the local publication, the "Loquacious Lilla". Spooning some soup, I went through those until I found one from eleven days ago. The title headline stood out to me.

"BARONESS RETURNS, IMPERIAL HEROINE IN TOW!"

It was her. It took some effort not to laugh; the trail was so obvious. Nobles could be so easy to find. The accident at Craw Holler had made international news. Or at least Ritual Plate publications, specifically the gossip rags that catered Pilots.

I bowed my horns to the Mother Superior, who was starting her own lunch, to convey my thanks with an emotional pulse. If I were of a more superstitious, near heretical, sect, I would have taken this as a sign, but I could not dismiss Her hand guiding me. I had been deceived, I had failed in my first life, I would not fail on this life of penance.

End Chapters 18 of Book 2

Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter. And Special thanks to DCG for having the gift of fish, Metaldragon for filling in the Shadow family, Readhead for helping polish the theological aspects, and once more Scarletfox for the chapter title.

Chapter 19 has been written and the draft is being edited and Chapter 20 has 5k words written so far. And Chapter 20 will be the end of this arc. I know the homefront arc has gotten a bit longer than expected, but things are wrapping u.

There's also about a dozen new pieces of art ready to post. And a refresh to the Dimensional Spine map (aesthetics only) as well as another new bit of Fleet and Legion kit.

 

[RogueInquisitor]

Now I'm starting to suspect that Maaria is going to be what forces Tauria and Visha to come clean about being reincarnates.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Now I'm starting to suspect that Maaria is going to be what forces Tauria and Visha to come clean about being reincarnates.

Click to shrink...

Possible. Possible! She is not the most subtle of people, and may end up forcing Tauria's and Visha's hands!

 

[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.

Interim Fanfiction and Fanart

C&C as always is wanted.

Book 2: "More Than a Shadow"
Chapter 19: Apology Accepted

It took a week for the Shadow family to settle into the pace of life at my manor house. Much of their gifts had been consumed in that time over a succession of delicious feasts, thrown first to welcome them, and then for the simple joy of good food shared in good company. A few choice, and frozen, selections had been saved for consumption on SabersWatch itself.

Between the braised lesser gryphon, four types of grilled fish including some fresh-caught fish from the lake, courtesy of the Shadows' nets and boats, all of the soups, and the heaps of fresh baked breads and desserts turned out by the kitchen, there were plenty of leftovers to tide even a house as full as mine over until the new year. Or, at least, there would have been enough, were we not feeding additional guests at today's ceremony.

My eyes went from the windows of my study back to the piles of paper on my desk. Today's event would be another burden on my busy schedule.

But that could wait until the afternoon. Right now, I had to go over more mundane county issues. The atrocity at Craw Holler had only slowed the inexorable spread of the steel rails, proving once again that not even mounds of flesh and blood could halt the advance of iron. Still, it was a reprieve, and I would be a fool not to make the most of it.

A county map took up one corner of my desk. A smaller copy of the large one in the cartography room, my desk-map was stained with a color-coded shorthand demarcating all the competing interests in the railroad project within my county. The Drow, Forest People, and the large timber concerns who were on board with the proposed railway lines were all there in various colors. The proposed railway line itself that cut through my county was mostly inked in green.

But my thoughts were not on the green. Instead, my concerns were focused mostly on the orange and grey-colored lines sectioning off great swatches of the map. The folio opened before me detailed the faction behind the northernmost of those orange lines. The Bolleras, a major landholding family, had just sent their counter offer.

I read over their letter, which had been marked-up with VioletBlood's rather... colorful comments. Like most landholders of a certain social rank, the Bolleras wanted access to the railroad; but like most of my subjects of that particular rank, the Bolleras were also vociferous in how little they wanted that railroad to infringe upon or even approach the boundaries of their land. Again, like many of their peers in that part of my county, the Bolleras were, "in the spirit of purest generosity", or so they claimed in their letters, offering vast tracts of swampland for the railroad to traverse.

This was, of course, only because they believed the various moors and bogs were so marginal that their only real use was as a shield to protect more easily developed parcels. Or, at the very least, because said swampland was of so little use to them that it cost them little to nothing to make it someone else's problem in an apparent "bargain".

More so even than their wariness regarding the railroad and its course, this mistaken belief revealed the short-sightedness of the petite aristocracy so aptly represented by the Bolleras. Much work would be required to drain the land sufficiently for the railroad's needs, of course, but work was only a matter of time and money, both of which could be had in spades, should one only look in the right places. A larger problem was the impact on the wider ecosystem as a whole should we actually put in said work to ram a railroad through such a critical juncture of vitality as a swamp without care for what lay within or around.

There was hardly just one cautionary tale of some fire horned succubae with more pride than sense charging headfirst into the depths of the wilds, confident in the superiority of their wit and witchcraft. Only to quickly unleash some horror or disaster that the rest of Diyu had to band together to put down before it got much worse. All because that fool couldn't resist the chance to stick their tail in where she didn't belong. Crazy demons.

But, to develop the fruits of tomorrow, I had to sow the seeds of today. Which, sadly, required time and money from me; that is to say, work.

Next to the Bollera letter rested an open notepad, its empty page mocking me. I had to come up with a response and soon, but I was drawing a blank on the exact approach I should pursue in the course of this "diplomacy". The matter was not quite within the province of an affair of state, but nor could I cover it under the forms of a landlord addressing a tenant or an outright superior dictating orders to a subordinate.

At the very least I should be able to put down a few bullet points, and list the areas of agreement. That would be a start, at least.... Rubbing my eyes, I got out of my chair and approached the side bar, where VioletBlood's gift for me sat happily percolating.

I managed to crack a smile as I studied the collection of glassware, brass fittings, and steel valves. I rather liked the complexity of the coffee maker. The way it used temperature differentials to create a vacuum and carried water between multiple glass bulbs made it a treat to watch. The pneumatics hissed to life at my touch, a quick twist of the dial and throw of the switch drawing forth the click and rumble of intricate machinations. Soon came the whistle of steam, filling the air with the rich scent of a decadent brew.

With my cup speedily refilled, I lingered by the machine's nook long enough to take an indulgent sip, gazing out the windows as I put off a return to my desk for just a few extra seconds. It was a clear, bright day outside, with perfect weather for flying. It had better be perfect weather for flying, given how much Mother spent on the services of a Tempestarii for today.

I pointedly did not look at the pavilion that was being set up on the grounds. There was no reason to exacerbate melancholia. That the pavilion was here on my lawn was ultimately a simple matter of distances; my county seat was closer to Craw Holler than my Duchess's castle. And even that simple fact had been complicated by the distances other worthies and notables would need to travel to attend; there had, for instance, been much negotiation with the provincial governor, the magistrate oversight board, and other... interested parties.

Even in sanguinary matters, logistics reigned. I sipped from my mug.

The story of my life.

"Yeah, she's in here!" A haughty voice announced as its owner barged into my office. My wings fluffed in surprise as I was partially lifted off of the rug by arms belonging to that intruder and her accomplice.

"Oh, good. I had thought she'd hidden in the fruit cellar with the Ritual Plate," a calmer voice said, coming to my side.

Gazing mutely at my Vs, I raised a questioning brow at their sudden intrusion. Their presence was appreciated but...

"But then, why would she go down there?" Visha asked, her voice rich with barely concealed humor. "We're not flying today, and it's not like she's a jar of preserves... No matter how sweet she might be!"

Carefully, navigating between their arms, I gently lowered my cup down on my desk; the ceramic clinking on the coaster my signal that the cup, and the brown elixir contained therein, were safe from the jostling grasp of my so-called consorts.

Reinhild stood at the doorway, head downcast, and her hands clasped before her, the very picture of a defeated guardian. Of course, her failure to secure my isolation had been all but guaranteed; in the face of my Vs, no gate within my power was barred; along with my mothers, they were some of the very few people who had the freedom to enter my private chambers at their leisure.

"Have you been cooped up here since breakfast?" Visha asked, knowing full well that I had been. There was, after all, much important work to do.

"Maybe she's going stir crazy?" Brushing her tail across my legs, VioletBlood scooted past me and gazed down on the pile of paperwork. The redhead frowned at the blank notebook.

I scoffed lightly, heart barely in it. "As if I'd go stir crazy over a single morning," crossing my arms over Visha's lingering, restraining hands.

My Vs exchanged a look. From her feelings and curled tail, Visha seemed a bit more anxious than VioletBlood.

"We've gone on plenty of flights, day trips, and more recently," I went on, pushing back against the allegation. "And not just last week's trip to LoveBlood's barony – you might recall that whole overnight trip before SabersWatch to the Great Bazala Lake. It's hardly like I've been living in my office."

"My family did have fun at the beach," Visha admitted, her anxiety easing away.

Since it was the off-season, it had been easy to secure rooms and rentals, despite the short notice. I had meant for the night spent in a seaside port town to be a homey change of scenery for Visha's parents and sisters, just in case their time in the mountains and forests had left them pining for the sea. While there was plenty of shore and pierside fishing, no pining had been in evidence either at the estate or while on our miniature recursive vacation; apart, of course, from the insistence the Shadow family displayed on the topic of renting a boat.

I pulled my lips into a comforting smile for my wingwoman. Looking back, I should of course have expected nothing less. Of course her family would want to try their talons at sailing the Great Bazala Lake, and of course nothing would go amiss while they did so. After the initial apprehension faded, I had swiftly realized that the Shadow Matriarchs, having worked the far north Atropia Sea, were quite respectful of the danger water represented. They did not treat the smaller, and largely calmer Great Bazala Lake with carelessness and, from all accounts, had collectively enjoyed a safe and reasonably productive little sailing adventure out on the freshwater sea.

"Winter fishing is a bit cold, but your family is skilled, Islander Girl." Keeping a polite smile, VioletBlood looked between us. "Other than… Craw Holler, this has been a good leave, and after today that unpleasantness will be behind us. We just have to deal with a few more hours."

Visha turned to gaze out at the pavilion with its flapping banners. The chimneys had been raised and whips of smoke were curling out into the still air. Her tail flicked.

"Maybe we can go on another overnight trip, just the three of us," VioletBlood offered. "Afterwards, that is."

"I really shouldn't leave my family. I see them so rarely..." Visha trailed off.

We gave the brunette sympathetic pulses. No matter how much one loved ones family, it was normal to desire a bit of private time. Even VioletBlood and I understood that.

"Maybe a day then? Like they can go to a festival in Jopecott, and while they're having fun in the county seat we can do some business to help the Countess," VioletBlood offered as she slipped next to her. The Shadow family was, coincidentally, away at the county seat today, but for a much more practical reason than attending a festival. The beleaguered maids and Sisters had requested additional chaperones to ride herd on the broodlings, and my wingwoman's family had stepped up to volunteer.

"Best to enjoy your time together while you can. We'll be heading back to active duty on Mursam soon enough," I said, keeping in a sigh. Two months of leave was both too much and too little.

It's certainly long enough for plenty of trouble to find me, though, I thought. To find us..

Bold and impetuous as ever, VioletBlood took the lull in conversation as license to start rifling through my papers, even opening a drawer to quest out a red pen. Thus armed, the aristocrat turned her attention to the Bolleras memo and related correspondence. "Hmm… Looks like you're still stuck trying to work out a response, hmm?"

"I have some ideas..." I started, almost feeling a bit defensive, but ending up feeling more defeated than anything. "It's just... where to begin?"

"Perhaps the beginning?" LoveBlood teased with a daring grin, as she held up the blank page.

"I suppose." I let out a breath. My tail hung limp. "Maybe we could talk to them a bit?"

"Of course, if you'll allow me to provide a few thoughts," my fiancee said, offering me a face-saving option. "We can figure things out before you talk to the Bolleras today."

Despite giving her a grateful pulse, I couldn't keep an anxious sigh from passing my lips. It felt like there was a weight pressing onto my chest with every breath, some intangible pressure just beneath the skin pulsing in time with my heart, squeezing me with every beat. "Of my various duties today, dealing with the Bolleras hardly ranks among my top concerns."

I chased that uncomfortably frank admission with a quick sip of coffee. If nothing else, the rich taste was a soothing balm to my spirit, however brief.

"But it'll hopefully be over soon," Visha said, anxiety marring her reassurance. "And the manor house won't be so busy… afterwards. And then it'll be just us and our guests and... family."

I looked at her and tried to be sympathetic. We had a lot of stressful things to deal with today; the Apology was simply the most intense. There were some things even she could not say. Visha would never admit that she found her family a bit of a pressure, maybe not even to herself. But I had spent a lot of time alone, and I could see it.

VioletBlood's green eyes met mine. She could see it too.

Giving a slightly brittle smile, Visha's tail flicked.

"I should go back to my Barony again, before our leave is up. Maybe in the new year." The Baroness's expression brightened. "Also, Islander Girl, Beatrix Abernathy said she would love to play against you before you go back to Mursam."

Visha's expression brightened. "She did, did she?"

"I think she wants to try her luck again," VioletBlood laughed.

I could only bow my horns in acquiescence to the Baroness, recognizing her tactical superiority. My idea had been to suggest Visha talk with her older sister Ines to see how she handled parental pressure.

Smirking, VioletBlood stepped up to me and adjusted my vest. "You still have time to dress into something more..."

"Fluffy?" Visha offered.

"I was going to say elegant, but I suppose silk pants and matching suit does give a somber flair…" The redhead's smile lingered, but her brow creased into a frown, recognizing that she had encroached upon the subject we had all, by unspoken agreement, been avoiding.

"I'm going to change after I help Mother Clementia get ready," I said while my tail flicked. "Into something more... as you say, somber."

"We'll be there with you for the entire ceremony," Visha assured me.

"I suppose I shouldn't be too dramatic about sartorial pressures; after all, it's not like I'm the condemned." I smirked.

The lame joke felt hollow on my lips.

VioletBlood coughed. "I suppose we should get downstairs and start meeting our guests."

"Maybe get a light brunch, so we won't have to break for lunch," Visha offered. Unstated was that her advice was an old Germanian Aerial Mage Corps trick to reduce the risk of vomiting during excessive maneuvers or especially... unpleasant duties.

"I could go for a snack," VioletBlood nodded, clueing in on Visha's subtext. Fleet Pilots, Legionary Fliers, VTOL Pilots, and Pathfinder drop troops shared a similar trick.

"Go on, I'll take care of your coffee," Reinhild assured me, making her presence known as she diffidently eased her way past my desk.

"Oh no, you're far too short handed today, of all days," I assured her.

"Countess, your mother has brought in members of her own household staff," the kitsune reminded me. "There are plenty of hands to go around."

Tail flicking, I frowned and started to protest. "But I-"

My Vs cut me off with a sudden ambush. Flanking me, each took an arm, lifted, and carried me bodily out of the study. Their shared bemusement was the only reason I didn't object to such undignified treatment.

+++++

In her black suit, bodice, and coat, Inspector Focht looked like an undertaker dutifully waiting for a visitation to conclude so she could finally get to work. From where she stood on the colonnade connecting the chapel to the rest of the manor complex, she could equally have been a tradesman or delivery driver maintaining a certain respectful distance away from a client's house while keeping close enough to respond as soon as she was summoned.

That summons, it would seem, had just arrived; the hour come round at last. Adjusting my short, glossy headdress, I stood at the chapel's threshold for a moment, putting off the dreadfully necessary once again, if just for a few seconds.

It just figured that the inspector would be waiting for me here. As much as any in her profession, Focht's predatory instincts were razor sharp, and her pursuit relentless. Mere sentimentality would not bind her hands when it came to setting an ambush.

"Countess," the grey skinned woman in her black homburg hat acknowledged, greeting me with a bobbing nod. Pungent blue smoke curled from the cigarette slotted into the end of its long ebony holder.

"Inspector," I bowed my horns to her. The woman from the Provincial Contract Enforcement Office was tapping an ill-mannerly and impatient foot as her tail twitched and jittered almost as much as her emotions. "Are there any issues with the preparations?"

Focht sucked on the cigarette holder and held my gaze, digesting the question as surely as she was savoring the smoke. The sheer black half-veil over my nose and mouth Mother Clementia had chosen for me to wear did tragically little to block the smoke. A part of me wished I had a heavier veil or even a full mask like Mother had donned; those, at least, would occlude a measure of second-hand smoke.

From the scent, I suspected that there was more wrapped up in that cigarette than just tobacco. Nothing so risky as laudanum or Vualian Marching powder, I thought, and despite the sweet scent, Yomi Sugar was also out. Given the... sharp scent.

Is that... Red Eye? I thought, parsing through the haze of tobacco fumes. I resisted the urge to cough or pray for a heavier veil, perhaps even an outright mask, that might have helped filter out the inspector's choice of vice, legal and socially acceptable it may be. Processed from the fruit of the Arana vine, the resultant dust, also known as Red Eye, had a high caffeine content as well as offering a few other alkaloids.

I wondered if the inspector was resisting the need for rest in the aftermath of an all-nighter. Or, perhaps she was steeling herself for the manifestation of the fruits of both of our labors. One of the effects of dust was a stressor reduction, similar to my own Benzodril prescription; so far as self-medication went, Red Dust could cover many sins.

"Is... this the first Apology you've attended?" the inspector asked.

Nodding, I waved some of the smoke away.

"Well, that's something." Pinching the end of her cigarette, Focht gave me an apologetic look. "What about Legion discipline? Witness a flogging or a fustuarium?"

My eyes widened. Corporal punishment was common enough in the Imperial Legions, but it was typically a casual whack from a centurion's vine-wood staff to encourage laggards, malingers, or shirkers. DarkStar's Blood, even I had a vitis rod. However, those corrections were a far cry from public whipping or having the condemned beaten to death by her comrades. "What kind of unit do you think I've been in?"

The inspector gave me a dim look, "Simply asking if you've seen 'em, Ma'am. Just to know if you've got any kind of… experience with the level of bloody handed absolution you are about to bear witness to today."

"Ah," I paused, embarrassment momentarily overcoming my heavy cloak of dread, and shook my head. "No... I... no, Inspector."

"Hmm..." The inspector looked me over with another critical eye, "probably for the best, really. Especially given your…"

"Age?" I laughed. "You are aware that the plays and books of my exploits do have a seed of truth to them."

"Heh, you're a killer alright," the inspector let out a hollow chuckle, "But this? This ain't putting a blade through an enemy in the heat of battle with lives on the line. Nothing to do with valiant courage, daring do, or glorious honor. This is the land's justice at its most cold blooded.

"Flaying the meat off one of our own's spine no matter how much she cries, 'cause her sins demand it?" Focht stared at her cigarette holder, clearly wishing she could resume her smoke. "No... that takes a different kind of grit."

My gut twisted at her words. My tongue felt like lead in my throat. "I suppose," I said, looking out to the now bustling pavilion.

"She might see mercy,' I offered, a hollow expression even to my own ears.

"She might." The inspector tipped her head, her words not agreeing, but neither condemning me. Deciding against another smoke, Focht took out a silver case and put away the holder and the half-spent cigarette, snapping the case closed and tucking it away with only the slightest regretful hesitation.

Then, she started walking in the direction of the pavilion.

Knowing that I could no longer delay the inevitable, I followed; my habits' black, white trimmed skirting swishing as I walked.

"I assume this is why you sent the broodlings away?" Focht asked as we neared a set of doors put into the big tent. A pair of mother's huscarls were guarding those doors; when they noticed our approach, they exchanged respectful nods with the inspector, appearing to recognize her on sight.

They must have already met while Focht was checking on our security measures, I decided, surveying her from the corner of my eye. If any of the arrangements met with disapproval, no sign of it touched her face now, although I noted that her eyes lingered ever so slightly on the crest blazed across the guards' shoulders.

No professional comment, but… perhaps some level of apprehension at the Duchess providing for the event's security with her own troops, instead of allowing the provincial government to step in?

Not a difficult possibility to imagine at all. Demons were notably territorial, after all, and demonic bureaucrats even moreso. An agent of the province, the governor, like Focht undoubtedly saw Ducal Forces, bonded or not, as interlopers on her patch.

"It was agreed that the broodlings had no need to witness today's events," I stated as we passed into the warmer interior of the grand pavilion. "Nor, for that matter, to feel them."

"Fair enough," the inspector admitted with a far too casual shrug as she surveyed the main chamber. "Coulda been quite the educational experience, though? That even if the Eyes of the Imperatrix's Justice fail to guard, the Blade will still be there, to avenge. No one outruns their debts forever, after all."

I followed her; my wings ruffling under their covers in apprehension. No one outruns their debts forever...

I thought of my Vs. The truths I owed them. My own past that should be nothing but the past. And yet...

Focht walked silently, and I felt her attention picking me apart without laying a single eye on me. "But... perhaps this is one teaching moment that they can afford to miss. Some lessons come with scars."

My tail flicked as we walked past a gurney and a set of medicos going through their equipment bags. "That is my fear," I agreed.

A woman with slim gold-framed glasses, orange hair in a ponytail, and a prim charcoal suit that showed off her magenta skin stepped up. A cigar was tucked behind one pointed ear. "Ah, Inspector, Countess. Such a pleasure to see you again, Inspector! I wish our reacquaintance fell on a more auspicious day."

"Librarian," Focht said, respectfully bowing her horns. She did not offer up a flowery greeting of her own, though, and her eyes remained focused on Evadne's hands.

There was clearly a history between the two women, and judging by Focht's polite wariness, it had left a significant impression on the provincial inspector.

"I have the same wish for you, Countess. Or, should I say Sister today, considering your vestments?" Evadne asked, casting a frank and evaluating eye my way to study the shiny black habit over my head and the gauzy white shawl over my wings.

Clasping my hands, I knelt into a curtsy, the shiny white scapular pendulously swaying around, weighted as it was with a golden four-pointed star. Similar adornments were draped over my shoulders and linked to the wide collar encircling my neck.

"May Her mercy fill your heart," I calmly said, hoping this display would show I was treating these procedures with due propriety and humility, and not as some bloody-handed spectacle of noble indulgence.

"Lest wrath guide my hand," Evadne finished, giving me a wry look, eyes sparkling behind her glasses.

Then, the Palace Librarian clapped her hands and glanced almost eagerly around the pavilion, her tail swishing. "Preparations seem to be well in order. What about the guests?" she asked in a friendly tone, as if she did not already know.

"The witnesses and the aggrieved parties are waiting with refreshments in the great hall," I said.

"All of the aggrieved parties?" the librarian pressed as we started moving again, passing a team of maids checking the heater stands and the interior support poles.

Of course the Imperatrix's personal agent knew about the Lady of the Rails. She was also just as smiling, polite, and lethal as when I had first rescued her in Ortov over two years ago, even as we discussed that thing that masqueraded as a mere demon, but was not.

But did I truly expect anything less? I asked myself.

"They or their appointed proxies," I clarified, a hint of stress leaking into my voice. Wrangling all of the various parties and proxies had proven remarkably taxing; thankfully, all in attendance had remained so far civil; presumably, nobody wanted to risk offering the Duchess any offense before they had the chance to seize their pound of flesh. Literally, in this case.

Evadne glanced at Focht.

"The huntswoman and the raven-mistress are here," the inspector confirmed.

"And the supplicant?"

"The Duchess of Argenia is enroute with BloodStone and her pardoner; my betrothed will meet with her and bring them in," I formally stated. Mother already had more of her household mercenaries, both on the ground and in the air, augmenting security, setting up and staffing the pavilion, and ensuring the weather remained good.

"Security should be adequate, given the quality of huscarls the Duchess has provided," Focht allowed. Her voice was ever so neutral but the term she used for Mother's Ducal Forces was pronounced as if it were the barbarian loanword it truly was.

Ever since the Imperatrix forcefully replaced the vast majority of her serving bodyguards with a legion of specialist mountain troops in the Third Epoch, the term "praetorian" had fallen out of favor in high society. Since, back then, especially before the industrial magnates of the current Epoch, it was the nobility who had the resources and need to field personal armies, and since aristocrats had extremely long memories, they too had soured on the term. Whilst the Imperatrix was content to have her Alpinum Guard, most aristocrats tended to adopt some deliberately exotic term to describe them, simultaneously invoking impressions of strength, status, and ferocity while deftly avoiding the old scars of shame.

Of course, elitists of all stripes being who they were, that tendency to dub household troops with foreign terms had grown inverted among those of a more provincial, and imperial, bent. Instead, they tended to use those names as a pointed comment on just how backwards and barbaric they found the concept of troops personally sworn to an individual noblewoman or family rather than the imperial state and householf itself. Beyond serving as a marker of clique membership, the adoption of the old exoticized names as a form of oblique insult allowed the contrarians the leeway to oppose noble armies without offering even a ghost of an insult to those who had sworn service to the Imperatrix, neatly dodging any potential offense and the resulting duels on the field of honor or allegations of lese majestie.

But even the most devoted servants of the Imperatrix, no matter their clique, were wise to step cautiously when around the Librarians. The cheerfully inquisitive bibliophiles were also well known to be the Imperatrix's most loyal auditors and her favored troubleshooters. They were the ones called in when a member of the Imperial Family itself needed investigating, or for other sensitive duties. They were an object, and disquieting, lesson that no one was above BlackSkyvian law, or beyond the Imperatrix's scrutiny.

Despite receiving anti-telepathic intrusion training as part of my advancement in the Legions, I was still quite apprehensive to be this close to one of the Imperatrix's personal psionics. Familiarity with this one or not, I had more than my share of secrets.

Hands clasped behind her back, the librarian ignored my disquiet as she nodded and went further into the pavilion. "Good, good... And, a confessor?"

I swallowed. "My other mother, Sister Clementia of Our Hallowed Lady, has volunteered for the duty, and has made the chapel ready."

Focht gave me an understanding nod. She knew I had been doing more than praying in the small building. While Mother could get into the formal habit, wimple, and mask by herself, it was much easier to have help, especially since, compared to my own outfit, Mother's was far more ornate and layered with importance.

"Good," the librarian stated as we walked down an aisle of wooden benches and neared the center of the pavilion. "Very good! The Imperatrix is keen that all rites and pacts be closely observed in this case. She has extended her Mercy, and does not want to be disappointed."

Focht and I bowed our horns. Disappointing the ancient being our polity was named after and whom we were both sworn to serve would be ill-advised. Something today's Apology would be doing a rather apt, if extreme, demonstration of.

As we walked, I wondered where my Duchess had found the pavilion. Given the grey drabness of the tenting, I doubted it was some carnival's big top. Perhaps it was a mobile church tent belonging to some somber sect – that would explain the pew-like benches – or maybe this whole setup had emerged from some obscure storage room in the bowels of Mother's castle.

Such musings halted when we entered the clearing at the center of all the rows of inwardly-facing pews. Up on a dias, a throne awaited Mother, where she would sit and preside over the events. Perpendicular from that, a podium for the pardoner stood. Closer to the wall and further from the intended focus of the attention was a clear place designated for the medicos, where they could wait with their gurney until their time had come. A railed off section reserved for the offended parties held the left flank of the clearing, and to the right was a chalked square where the supplicant would stand until my Mother, in her office as the designated agent of the Imperatrix, called upon her to make the only restitution that she could.

In the middle of it all, raw boards untouched by any plane or sandpaper, to say nothing of varnish, was a platform. Bare as bones and purpose-built for only this occasion, after which every scrap of its materials would be cast into the purifying fire, this platform was where Laelia BloodStone would give her Apology.

Raised about half a foot above the ground, the platform was roughly five feet to a side and all of it splintery pine still oozing with rivulets of sap. A tarp covered the top of the platform, keeping dust and the feet of any save its intended from making contact with the profanity that was its boards. On all four sides, gutter-like channels with angled walls, more boards and duckboards, had been nailed onto the supports, their angle carefully engineered so all their take would not sit, but flow, draining away into a wide-mouthed collection pan.

My eyes went from the platform and towards the stand where the victims would sit. The furnishings for their section were far more refined than the platform, without the clear transitory nature nor the deep-seated ugliness, but somehow the panel of chairs had its own air, as if the generously upholstered chairs were leaning forwards with predatory expectation. Supplementing this impression was the line of small metal coolers, one in front of each chair, and the solitary table set with a number of implements, each gleaming to a polished shine against a snowy cloth.

Clapping her hands, Evadne gave a bright smile. "Well, good work! It looks like everything's all properly set up!" Her voice rang with supportive cheer, yet behind her glasses, her eyes were stone.

"Thank you, Ma'am, I have some small experience in such matters, and our Grace, the Duchess, is an old hand at resolving issues of offense to mutual satisfaction," the Inspector smoothly said, adroitly mitigating her own disquiet. "And, 'course, can't forget the Countess here. She was the one who brokered this deal and volunteered her manor as the location in the first place."

Focht outright tipped her hat to me, the ghost of a smile hidden in the shade of her cap, "Such a delightful team player, she is."

Just my rotten luck, on the rare occasion where I'd be happy to be left uncredited, she makes sure to tar me with the brush of this… festival. I grit my teeth, I almost wish I hadn't killed Being X, just so I had that bastard to blame for all this.

"You are too kind, Inspector," I said stiffly.

"Don't sell yourself short, Countess," Evadne chided with another laugh. "You have proven yourself quite adept at serving our Imperatrix, and we have watched you grow with experience over the years."

The librarian flashed me a far too bright wink. "I'm sure a smart cookie like yourself will find today quite educational."

+++++

At the appointed time, the flaps to the pavilion were opened and the audience in embryo was gently encouraged to abandon the refreshments in favor of filling the waiting pews.

From my seat at my Duchess's right hand, I recognized many of the county nobles in the witness stands, Matriarch Bollera among them. Happily, that one seemed quietly satisfied; I would need to thank VioletBlood for her skilled diplomacy in soothing the always prickly matron. Nearby, several Larium County councilwomen sat together protectively in a cluster, as if taking strength against the scattering of notables from more prosperous parts of the duchy.

Representing the more rural powerbrokers was a scattering of land holders and guilders from Craw Holler to the south and the Andromachin border to the north. A Forest Person chieftain and the Drow matriarch who had agreed to build a railway bridge were among the small non-Diyu demon contingent in the audience. The Drow, at least, appeared at least as interested in the proceedings as any demon, while the Forest Person remained predictably implacable.

Groups of black gowned Sisters belonging to various sects sat in somber groupings, most of them already deep in prayer. There was a particular Sister of Our Martyred Lady who kept stealing glances in Mother's direction, whenever she was not focused upon the platform. Evadne, who was by the entrance enjoying a quiet smoke, already seemed to be keeping track of that particular nun , along with a few other figures of note.

Is the girl some kind of spy being watched by the Librarians? I considered, then almost dismissed it immediately. If she is, she can't be a very good one. I'm hardly a train spy catcher myself, and I've already caught her furtive glances.

My habit shifted against my leg, and I realized my tail had begun to lash from side to side. With a bit of effort, I stilled it. I had to allow myself to relax; the Librarian and others, such as the circulating Inspector Focht, would keep the situation handled.

The event, it seemed, would be a full house. Now that the pews had grown crowded, my seneschal had found a use for herself in guiding stragglers to the few remaining open seats. Above the throng, my Mother presided, silent for now. In a dark, sleek purple and grey gown, she made the finely carved but otherwise undecorated oaken throne beneath her a true seat of power. Two of her feline guards knelt at her feet while two of my sisters stood at her side, flanking our two chairs.

Opposite Doctrix RedWing and ArgentShroud, my Vs maintained their own vigil. Primus Centurion Shadow was resplendent in her formal Legion Blacks, and Baroness VioletBlood maintained cool elegance in a dark grey gown with emerald trim.

The box containing the offended parties was full, mostly with the families of those lost at Craw Holler. A mix of anger, sorrow, and anticipation rose from the simmering souls. None of them suspected it would come to this, but there were more than enough who seemed eager for retribution. Despite their numbers and clear passions, though, all of the families seemed somehow compressed, squeezed back and away by the ineffable pressure radiating from the three women seated closest to the aisle.

Bare of her guns, RainsFord Songstress looked almost naked, despite her surprisingly respectable outfit du jour. Despite that, she seemed quite at ease with her situation as she absently fanned herself. Technically, there was nothing preventing her from using a firearm to enact an Apology, assuming the Imperatrix's edict of Mercy was held, but I suppose simply shooting a captured BloodStone would not be sporting. Miss Crow's dark gaze was off into the distance, doubtless using her associates to keep an eye on proceedings outside the pavilion.

The blonde leader of the trio smoothly raked her crimson eyes about the scene, positively luxuriating in the skin of a "fellow" succubus as easily as she did her crimson suit. I presumed the smooth oiling of the events and logistics appealed to her nature, and was a good portent that she would receive her due.

Off to one side, opposite the pardoner's lectern, trying their best at looking unobtrusive, the medicos waited with their kit bags and the gurney.

Discreet though the medicos might be, though, they may as well have been blasting fanfares compared to the orange-haired librarian who stood just outside the pavilion's main entrance. Smoke curled from her cigar in lazy spirals as she scanned the crowd. There was something... unobtrusive about her. Even with my paranoia as I specifically sought her out, it was easy to just... dismiss the librarian.

Which certainly didn't make me feel less paranoid about her.

With a flick of her tail, the end of the cigar slid away from the remnant of the butt, sliced cleanly away by an unseen force, its ember crushed.

The pavilion fell into a hush as a quartet of Mother's huscarls made their entrance. Two of the armored figures fell out of formation as soon as they crossed the threshold, taking up positions on either side of the entryway; the other pair, looking neither left nor right, continued their march down the center aisle.

In the open space left in the guards' wake, a trio proceeded down the aisle. Only one of those three was unfamiliar to me, the grey suited, crimson-skinned woman at BloodStone's elbow. This was the pardoner, an advocate who would plead for mercy on behalf of the condemned.

Dame Laelia BloodStone wore a black cloak over her pale stola. Lacking any embroidery or accents, the pleated robe was still of high quality, though its traditional nature as the garment worn by the sacrificed and the condemned removed any envy that its thread-count might have inspired. Striding with slow, deliberate steps, it appeared the green-haired woman had opted to focus solely on retaining a measure of her dignity as she crossed into the sight of those whom she had wronged. Or, given the slightly glazed look in her golden eyes, she was trying to walk through a dosage of analgesics without visibly stumbling.

A Sister of Our Hallowed Lady came at the rear of the formation, shuffling slowly in her formal, floor-length, glossy white and red-trimmed habit, complete with silver stars and a matching wimple. Her tail and wings were covered by flowing shawls. Likewise, Mother Clementia's face was obscured by a gold-inlay mask rendered in Her likeness, obliviating her own visage in favor of sanctity..

It was always disquieting to see DarkStar's likeness approach atop a mortal's frame.

At the foot of the platform, the procession halted. The pardoner left her charge's side and went to her lectern while BloodStone, abandoned, stood staring glassy-eyed down at the platform, Mother Clementia silent at her side.

The pavilion fell silent. With the combined attentions of dozens of empaths focused upon the central stage, their sheer intensity was enough to foist a buzzing pressure upon my horns, even sitting away from the nexus swirling around BloodStone and the waiting offended.

From the sconce sitting next to her, Duchess SilverFlight took a steel-tipped staff and briskly slammed its hilt down against an iron plate left for that purpose near her feet. "On this day, the Twenty-Ninth of December, in the 432nd Year, Aprues des Represallia, the Courts of the Duchy of Argenia-"

"And the County of Larium," I carefully interjected as procedure demanded, my gaze extending out over the crowd.

"- are in session," Mother completed. "We are gathered here to witness the Apology of former provincial comptrollia Dame Laelia BloodStone."

At that declaration, the tension in the room eased. The sudden calm was a lie, though, as deceptive as the tide retreating before a tsunami. Worse was to come.

The librarian and the inspector, I noticed, were paying quite close attention; likewise, that peculiar Sister was rapt with the proceedings. I also noticed that none of BloodStone's family had come to provide support. I could understand not wanting to see this, and from my limited interaction, BloodStone was not an endearing person.

And besides, while all clamor for credit when the victory is near… who would choose to place themselves on the scaffold of an Apology?

My Duchess studied BloodStone, who, blanched by the massed focus of the crowd, the beckoning of the splintered boards at her toes, and the shiny tarp before her, was drained of all arrogance. My mother waited until the condemned noticed the silence and raised her head, then gave a curt nod once she saw BloodStone's eyes had turned upwards toward her own. "Dame BloodStone, do you understand the ritual before you?"

Nervously pushing some green tresses behind her ear, BloodStone coughed. "Yes... yes, Your Grace, I do."

"Do you consent to presenting an Apology to these petitioners, knowing the traditions of the rite?" I asked, my tone even, the words ashes on my lips. I drew upon the quiet support of my Vs as they stood vigil. "You may consult with your pardoner and the provided confessor if you wish."

BloodStone took a moment to look around the pavilion, her eyes shying away from the sharp attention of those in the petitioners' box. Then, she looked to the prim grey-suited woman standing at the lectern, the only friendly face for her in the crowd, even if only in an official capacity.

The emotions around us swelled as the audience tensed.

We both knew my words were little more than polite theater for the sake of civility. Yes, BloodStone could still technically back out and instead face the "impartial" justice of a provincial court. But she was in too deep now. If she turned her back on an Apology now, the court of public opinion would cry out for her blood with even more fervor than it already was. She was never going to find true justice out there anymore, not with everyone clamoring for their pound of flesh. That wasn't even considering the debts she owed the Railroad.

I'm sure she was more than aware of what would happen if she tried to weasel her way out of settling those accounts again.

It doesn't matter if she truly consents or not, I thought, a lump in my throat, Because we all know that this is the only chance that she has to save her skin.

Gold eyes locked onto the Duchess and I as the embezzlatrix gathered her will. "I do," she whispered before raising her voice. "I do, your Grace! I will Apologize for my actions!"

Both my mothers' expressions were masks. Literal in Clementia's case, figurative in SilverFlight's. Mother Clementia stepped closer and gave what comfort she could from under DarkStar's mask to BloodStone while my Duchess steeled herself. The slight emotional pulse and quiver of her tail were the noblewoman's only tells. "Do you accept the Imperatrix's Mercy, knowing what BlackSky will require of you?"

The condemned gave a raspy chuckle. "I accept and consent to my new duties."

Interest in the pavilion swirled like wine in a glass as the opening ritual of the rite continued onwards, gaining the inexorable inertia of old traditions and institutions with roots steeped in blood. Like wine, the collective emoting of the demons in attendance gained flavor notes, subtle shifts that all bent towards one theme: Anticipation.

Justice, or its cousin, vengeance, would not be denied.

"Dame BloodStone, you understand there is no going back. Your pardoner, the confessor, and the Imperial representative have made it clear, but I ask again. You understand what is to come?" my Duchess asked.

"I do. I freely submit. Offense has been given," she carefully stated the first part of the ritual.

My Duchess looked to the petitioner box. "What say you?" she asked the assembled representatives and survivors.

Clutching a set of gardening shears, the forewoman, Opal Priscus stood. The dark haired woman lost a sister and her mate at Craw Holler. She had taken in her orphaned nieces and stared daggers as her tail flicked. "Yes, Your Grace, Offense has been taken," the woman gritted out, her voice barely contained. In her hands, her shears snapped shut.

And with that, the ritual could proceed.

At a tiny nod from My Duchess, her two feline maids languidly stood. One carried a folding wooden table, the other a leather tool roll and a sealed ceramic jar. The two items were set on the table. Inside the jar were over a dozen polished ceramic tiles, each carved with a single name. Then the tool roll was opened, showing a row of gleaming instruments.

Murmuring and excitement grew as the prospect of blood drew the crowd's eagerness. Even the non Diyu Demons attending the ceremony were caught up in it.

Duchess SilverFlight banged her staff on the metal plate. "Silence."

As the ringing echoed, the air grew heavy and the mood more constricted.

My Duchess lifted her free hand. "Dame BloodStone has a right to speak to those she has wronged. Dame BloodStone, what say you?"

BloodStone closed her eyes. "I yield my time to my pardoner, Lady LilyWater."

SilverFlight simply nodded to the grey-suited woman at the lectern.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Lady LilyWater bowed her horns. She was positioned with the petitioner's box to her right, and our thrones to her left. Her attention went to the dozen or so people who would seal BloodStone's fate. "Ladies, citizens, we are only here because Dame Laelia BloodStone has agreed to face the consequences for her actions."

The crowd's reaction, especially those in the petitioner's box, was a smug dismissal. The pardoner was the rarest type of advocate in our society, though, and was undaunted by the immediate dismissal. In an Apology, her role was to convince the offended party to choose mercy.

She had seen it all before, the offended righteousness, the bloody-minded thirst for destruction, the way grief and pain transmuted into eagerness to undertake such business as few would even consider in better times. In short, she was no stranger to the ugliness of a socially-permitted lynch mob.

LilyWater's crimson skin shone under the pavilion's lights as she held her palms in a calming gesture. "I know. I know. It is hard to defend the actions of someone who has conceded her guilt, who admits to causing such death and strife, and for what? The most petty and banal evils of greed. BloodStone is guilty. I will not insult your intelligence and pretend otherwise."

So far as openers go, LilyWater's was enough to draw the interest of the general crowd. Those in the box, the people LilyWater had to get through to, remained skeptical and aloof.

Seeing the rows of stony faces confronting her, the pardoner sighed, flexing her wings. "We are here for many reasons. BloodStone made many choices. She was part of a conspiracy that skimmed funds, faked records, defrauded suppliers, and bribed inspectors, all actions that directly led to the tragedy at Craw Holler.

"We are here because BloodStone committed an evil act. We are here because she has agreed to fall upon your mercy." The pardoner gave a sharp smile. "But we are also here because she did not act alone. We are here because BloodStone has testified to Inspector Focht and other Provincial and Imperial authorities."

Pardoner LilyWater gestured to the waiting inspector before turning to Mother, turning to me. "If anything I say is untrue then I myself will Apologize and throw myself on the court's mercy."

My Duchess's attention went to Focht and the Librarian. "Agreed. Continue, Pardoner."

"Apology is an ancient and venerated rite. It is total contrition." LilyWater gave the leather tool roll and the ceramic jug of lots a long gaze. "Her fate is in your hands, to do with as you please."

"Honorable Ladies, you will get your pound of flesh. No force on Diyu will deny you what is yours by right and custom," LilyWater soberly promised, her pointed fangs flashing as with every word. "But as you choose your means of justice, keep in mind that BloodStone's soul, her life, has been claimed."

BloodStone gritted her teeth. Her emotions roiled, the fear and anxiety throbbed out of her in queasy pulses, but her pardoner's words had wounded her pride.

The Railroad Lady shifted her position, going from one precise, almost textbook position to another perfect poise. Furnace red eyes smoldered, seemingly content that events were proceeding as neatly as if on polished rails.

Tail flicking back and forth LilyWater met the gaze of each and every woman in the petitioner's box, even the Lady and her associates. "You have heard that BloodStone has the Imperatrix's Mercy. Would you like to know what she did to get that grand protection? What did she do to deny the lucky one of you whose name is pulled last from the pot the coup de grace?"

Curiosity grew in the audience, reaching even some of those in the box. I could feel Visha be almost appreciative at the bluff. Of course, my wingwoman could respect a gambler making the most of a bad hand.

"Dame BloodStone's testimony has been quite fruitful to the Provincial Contract Enforcement Office," LilyWater stated. "I am not just talking about fingering her co-conspirators, though her testimony and documents have produced enough evidence to bring cases forward for over two dozen mechanics, guilders, purchasers, and other corrupt individuals who had a direct hand in the atrocity at Craw Holler.

"But her efforts also directly led to the apprehension of eight fugitives who had absconded with considerable funds, and two dozen more who fled with lighter wallets. Several detective companies and trackers grew flush with reward monies thanks to such testimony.

"Yes, five fugitives were found dead, presumably having run afoul of vigilantism. But that is hardly my client's fault. She still delivered plenty of fresher meat to the provincial authorities."

A bit of gallows humor went through the crowd. By modern Diyu sensibilities, such personal vengeance was romanticized, but as a relic of an earlier time. But this is the Fourth Epoch, the age of Steel and Spirit, and we are so very civilized now, the smug voice of my inner countess mocked. Elaborate vendettas and blood feuds were a symptom of the ennui and superstitions of the Second Epoch. And even venerable rituals like the Apology have been brought into the modern day.

My thoughts were cut when the Lady of the Rails looked across the pavilion to meet my eyes. It was a brief moment of a gaze like two cutting torches boring into me, but then it was gone as her attention went to the distant Miss Crow.

LilyWater was sipping from a glass one of Mother's maids had brought her. "Pardon the interruption, I do apologize," she said to the chorus of groans and half-forced chuckles from the audience. "My client has done more than turn on her associates, she has done more than help the PCE Office recover millions of aurei in cash, bonds, and other easily tradable and concealed goods. She has also exposed three other vast conspiracies of graft in Eastern Province and beyond."

And that raised the unrest into a tumult as the crowd began talking to greater and greater volume until Mother had to call again for order.

"Your Grace, if I may?" the pardoner inquired, and after receiving a nod, continued. "Inspector Focht, have I said any untruths of embellishments?"

The inspector shook her head. "No, Lady LilyWater has spoken true. BloodStone has been cooperative, her depositions have been very useful, and she told us where to find the actual ledgers, records, and receipts."

Despite the situation, BloodStone's prickly pride shone through as a smirk slipped onto her face before she pushed back into a more sorrowful expression.

"May I give a summary as to the other conspiracies she has exposed?" LilyWater asked. "I do not want to jeopardize any active investigations."

As the pardoner received her permission and continued her story, I grudgingly conceded to BloodStone the credit for hiring a raconteur of skill to present her defense. LilyWater had somehow managed to transform the minutia of fraudulent electrical transmission tower accounting, overcharging Celia Province's canal expansion with pay for ghost employees, and skimming duraluminum production meant for Imperial Blimp and Freight into an engaging story perfectly targeted at the audience. It was a set of interlocking webs of kickbacks and pork-barrel spending, with monies going from one pocket to grease palms in other pockets, all regaled like the choicest gossip from the society papers.

While the fact of these schemes was clearly concerning to those in the audience paying attention, the pardoner managed to distract even them with descriptions of the audacity of the corruption and the sheer surprise of the conspirators when they were raided by provincial authorities backed up by hired detectives. Her wry tone and periodic asides to the audience was enough to leave the majority chuckling at the farce and leaning forwards in their seats, eager to be entertained.

However, among the people LilyWater had to actually convince to show mercy, I saw little but stony faces and felt little but seething anger and anticipation.

"I suppose that's all I have to say. Thank you, Your Grace." After bowing her horns to my Duchess, LilyWater took a final sip from her glass. She then turned and bowed deeply to the box of victims and their representatives. "Honorable Ladies, may the Hallowed Lady guide your hands."

In the tense silence that followed, Mother Clementia lifted her head and let the mask of DarkStar solemnly watch over the crowd.

My Duchess gave a single nod, and looked to me.

I closed my eyes for a moment. "Dame BloodStone, step onto the platform," I ordered, my mouth dry. We all had our parts to play.

Tail limp, her wings fluttered and BloodStone choked back a sob as she hiked up her robes and set one foot onto the platform. A collective shiver ran through the crowd at the threshold crossed. Now, until the Apology was completed, BloodStone was transformed into something other, something exempted from the laws and protections of the Imperatrix, her government, and our society. Even still, as BloodStone fell to her knees at the center of the platform, facing those who were about to accept her Apology, DarkStar was there in the mask Mother Clementia wore as she helped stabilize the swaying condemned.

Duchess SilverFlight held up a hand, as if to forestall any excitement from the crowd, though the rapt watchers had fallen silent, all eager to behold what was to come. "Pardoner, you may draw the first name."

Lowering her head, LilyWater stepped away from the lectern and went to the small table with its ceramic jar and neat row of tools.

LilyWater extended a claw, cut the jar's wax seal, and removed the lid, placing it upturned on the table. Turning her head to the side, the pardoner grasped the jar's lip and gave it a shake. Then, in a fluid motion, her other hand went in and plucked out a single tile.

Inspector Focht, Librarian Evadne, the medicos, and Mother's huscarls had quietly approached.

"The first name!" The pardoner lifted her clasped fist and, with a nimble move, flicked the tile to between her fingers for all to see.

Evadne glanced at my Duchess and gave a single nod. "Petronia JadeBone!" SilverFlight declared, shouting the name of the deceased.

Petronia's surviving mate stood. Tail flicking, the woman's face was a mask of gritted teeth and hooded eyes. She stomped to the table with its jar and tools and, without breaking stride, grabbed what looked for all the worlds like a plain chef's knife.

Vana JadeBone stood over the woman who had submitted to her, to all she had hurt. The widow stared into the blade's mirrored surface. "Dame BloodStone, I will never see my love again, but I pray to DarkStar that you have a long life and never forget this for a moment until your last breath."

BloodStone had lowered her head, her wings splayed around her as she knelt on the sheet-covered platform. For a moment, as JadeBone stared down at herself in the knife, everyone wondered if the pardoner's silver tongue had worked, if LilyWater's appeals for mercy had swayed the Honored Ladies.

They had not.

The smell of blood filled the room as BloodStone cried out. Her right hand went to her face to staunch the bleeding from the slash. She screamed again as Vana followed up her surprisingly clumsy stab with a brutal twist of the hilt. Then, inhaling deeply, the aggrieved widow released the weapon. The blade slipped out and clattered to the platform, staining the glossy tarpaulin the first droplets of blood.

Turning her back, Vana JadeBone walked to the aisle and then out of the pavilion.

Apology accepted.

As the medicos determined if healing magic was required, the pardoner moved the tile to the dish formed by the jar's upturned lid, and, after confirming with Duchess SilverFlight, drew the second tile.

"Martina Priscus!" Pardoner LilyWater shouted.

At that shouted name, Opal Priscus stood and approached the woman who had taken both a sister and a mate from her. The gardening shears she had brought all the way from what had become a far quieter home were clutched firmly in her hand as she collected what was her due. Pained sobbing behind her, the widow returned to the small wood-framed coolers that were in front of their seats. Unlike JadeBone, she did not exit the pavilion after collecting her Apology; by the bleakness stamped across her face, Opal wanted to watch until the full measure of restitution was extracted from the mutilated thing upon the platform.

I did my best to tune Opal Priscus's emotional signature out, and to likewise avoid noting exactly what Opal had returned to her seat with and put in that cooler. I leaned on the emotional support of my Vs. It turned out there were limits to my LoveBlood's bloodlust, and Visha, the woman who could come out of the Rhine front with a smile, was shocked at the casualness of it.

The crowd had split with about half, including most, but pointedly not all of the Sisters, bearing witness as they endured the ritual, while the others relished the sacrificial act of submission.

With a recently vacated seat to her left, Ariana Fabricia, who had lost a mother, smiled sharply at the quivering BloodStone. "Oh was that not enough? I'll be back when my sister's name is called. Maybe I'll use my tail or my own talons to give something to really remember me by? Your own holy wounds, eh?"

At that, the half of the audience who were rapt with the bloodletting jeered and added their own bawdy catcalls and blasphemy. The Railroad Lady gave a smirk at that, as if the denegation amused her in some way. At least, until Mother rang her staff in objection.

"I will not have this rite be a mockery!" Duchess SilverFlight demanded. "The witnesses will act in a civilized way or will be removed from the ceremony."

That quieted things down. No one, at least no one who wanted to watch this, who wanted to feel this, would want to be kicked out. And Mother is right. We have rules, that silken voice of my inner countess whispered as a third name was called.

We are not simply executing her by the side of the road or hunting her for sport. Dignity and propriety must be maintained, the demoness inside me purred as another set of tools was selected and a fresh scream reverberated around the pavilion as the scent of blood, of torn flesh, of viscera, grew heavy and potent in the still air. I knew that smell, I knew what that tasted like.

Gritting my teeth, I stole a glance at BloodStone. Three had accepted her apology, and the woman would survive, if only because the medicos would not let her die. Mother's objection was not at the desecration of the supplicant, but at the blasphemy, and at the jeers mocking the dignity of this procedure.

Once more, I drew on the support of my Vs as the pardoner returned to the deep-throated jar. I was not sure how much longer I could take this, but I was less worried about what would happen when I would run out of patience than what would happen with others in attendance.

Initially, the Railroad Lady seemed intrigued by the acts of violence, but soon began to tap one leather-shod foot with something like impatience. Eyes flashing with intent, Evadne had also spotted the potential trouble.

Pardoner LilyWater had a new tile and held it aloft.

"The Great Southern Railway and related interests!" Duchess SilverFlight stated.

There was some murmuring in the audience, but it was quickly quieted, especially as RainsFord snapped her fan closed. The huntress glared at any who got a bit too chatty as she stood up and walked down the aisle to the pavilion's exit.

Furnace-red eyes glowing bright, the Railroad Lady gave an almost contented sigh and nodded to the seemingly distracted Miss Crow.

Tilting her head with a hand to her ear, SilverFlight nearly rose to her feet. Mother Clementia clasped her hands, and I could feel the faith radiating from her. The air pressure shifted as the air spirits in the room grew even more excited and eager. The Railroad Lady and my Duchess's eyes met. Something crossed between the two, and Mother slowly eased back into her throne.

And that's when I heard the cawing and fluttering of feathers. The sounds started faint but quickly grew into a cacophony that grew and grew. It became much worse when RainsFord held open the tent flap, and a storm of raven-winged birds mobbed into the pavilion.

There was a moment of pandemonium until the librarian's voice rang out, demanding calm. It helped that the corvids were singular in their focus. Hundreds of the ebony-eyed, black taloned birds descended onto BloodStone.

Her screams grew until she was covered and silenced by the murder of crows. The flock weighed her down as their heads bobbed, revealing glistening beaks and crimson-coated claws. Their ravaging felt much longer than it was in reality.

It had to be.

One of the birds flew away and landed on Miss Crow's lap. As she patted the bird on the head, the Railroad Lady opened up a container about the size of a ring box. The happy crow dropped something round and glistening into the box, which the Lady closed. I decided that I didn't want to think too much about that.

And with that, as rapidly as they appeared, the flock took wing and flew out the pavilion like a plume of rapidly rising smoke. The medicos sprang into action, working on the twisted figure slumped on the platform with its full gutters. Wings splayed and tail twitched, the librarian was nevertheless clinical in her detachment as she catalogued the freshly sustained wounds while Mother Clementia, under DarkStar's impassive visage, held a mangled hand in her own.

The extraordinary spectacle had broken the crowd's bloodlust like a fever. In the ensuing silence, punctured only by the sound of wet, labored breathing, the Railroad Lady pocketed the tiny case, took her hat, and left without a word, her minions following in her wake. The pavilion's flap closed behind them, to the clear relief of many in attendance.

My Duchess gave the medicos a querying look once they stepped away. They gave curt nods, and my mother cleared her throat. "Pardoner, you may draw the next name," she said, managing to keep the weariness out of her voice.

The only reason I could feel past the emotive mask my Duchess had put up was due to the years I had known her, and even then it felt like she was still hiding something, but we had all seen a lot of blood and horror today, and there was still more to come.

Concealing her ill-ease, LilyWater took a moment to drink some water. "Uh yes, Your Grace," she coughed, strode up to the jar, pulled out a tile, and raised it up.

Mother Clementia let go of BloodStone's hand and stepped back.

"Will the next of kin of Saturnina BroadHorn come forward!" My Duchess exhaled as the Apology rite continued. I briefly closed my eyes; it would be over soon enough, by DarkStar's grace, without any further surprises.

+++++

The grounds were still, with the fluttering of the pavilion's flaps the only source of noise. Her debt paid, Dame Bloodstone's injuries were bound by the medicos as the librarian used some alchemical concoction to mark the wounds and the points where the sigils channeling the regenerative power would be placed. Enough to restore function, but deliberately short of a full reconstruction, guaranteeing scarification.

Once the librarian gave her nod, my noble mother declared the ritual complete and the ceremony closed. Apology concluded, our guests filed out, not everyone under their own power. BloodStone was now the Imperatrix's problem, with my Duchess concluding her business with the librarian. Some in attendance had left the event richer in flesh and blood, especially after the collection basins had been drained and divided up. Not that such sanguinary bounty could replace lost family.

Adjusting my wimple, I studied the pavilion. The rows of seating had been largely disassembled and piled up, ready to be carted off. Several support wires and poles had been removed, leaving the eastern half of the grand tent to slump down. The show was over, and the roustabouts were on break.

Craw Holler, and the corruption leading up to it, had ruined lives, offended powers great and ancient, and resulted in blood pouring onto the scales of Justice until the cups swung as level as they ever would. I suppose the Lady had her satisfaction, and perhaps the common folk had as well.

My tail flicked as the sounds of pain echoed in my mind, but the psychic echo was not half as bad as the scent lingering in my nostrils. Blood, offal, flesh; I hated how hungry the whole ceremony made me. I knew that was mostly a reaction to stress, and anyone would be drained by participating in such a rite, but I had seen vengeful demons feasting on the battlefield before – I had tasted demonflesh in my own battlefield extremity before – and today's event had resembled nothing more than a pack of jackals savaging a corpse.

And here I was, left without so much as a mouthful of meat to call my own.

Pushing down the grumbling of my queasy stomach, I turned back to the chapel. The prospect of joining with my other mother along with all the rest of our sisterhood and those of other sects who had attended this ancient rite in a suitably mindless ritual drew at me. The sound of their hymns rose in the chill air as my wings wrapped over my shoulders. Joining their chorus would nullify the need for thought, for a moment, and for reflection.

Before I could make a decision, I felt my Vs approach.

Mood somber, their strides were deliberate. Visha carried a metal thermos while VioletBlood bore a few ceramic cups. One of which was already full of a fragrant fish broth.

Wordlessly, Visha opened the thermos and filled one of the cups VioletBlood held up and handed to me.

Cradling the cup, I inhaled the delicious scent before lifting my veil and taking a sip. As good as the taste was – and the broth was fantastic – the warmth was more of a balm to my soul.

"Momma and my older sister used some of our leftovers to make a broth, in case the broodlings got hungry today," Visha said as she savored her own cup. She gave the pavilion her own sour expression.

"Give Mrs. Ema and Ines my compliments," I said as I felt my wings start to relax under their cover. Of course, the Shadow family had made some extra food when they took the girls to town. Broodlings were always hungry.

Visha nodded. "The girls left complaining about missing out on the Apology, but they seem a bit more sober coming back."

"I guess they realized they got the better deal, after feeling the emotions from everyone leaving," VioletBlood said.

"If I could choose between being at the Apology or visiting the confectioner's shop and seeing a cinema, I would watch a trashy adventure movie surrounded by sugar-high broodlings in a heartbeat."

"Same," VioletBlood admitted. "Even a compilation of those atrocious serials mangling our supposed 'jungle adventures' made by that cheap Voduri animated studio."

"The one that gave the Countess fox ears?" Visha asked. "I thought it was cute."

"The addition of the ears was its only redeeming quality," VioletBlood remarked.

"Not to mention how that built up my 'Jungle Fox' nickname." I gulped down more broth and wordlessly held the cup out, asking for more.

The three of us stood silently under the breezeway linking the manor to the chapel. "Thank you for being there with me," I sipped the broth, savoring the blend of spices that added to the rich body of the shrimp and fish. "I know it wasn't easy to bear witness. To see such.... to feel such things."

"Of course we'd be there!" VioletBlood cried, as if offended by the thought of being shielded by some emotional trauma.

Turning, I glanced into her green eyes. No, she wanted to help me with my burden. I could feel her deep, if possessive, connection to me. The Baroness wanted to spend her life with me; my eyes darted to Visha, with us.

I had to tell her; I had to tell Visha. DarkStar's blood, my mothers deserved to know. I owed it to them, to all of them. And before we went back on deployment. I exhaled and sipped more of the broth. Today was a bad enough day, but that would be just another excuse. The year was almost over anyway.

"Girls, there's something I need to tell you," I met both their gazes. "Something about my past."

Understanding crossed Visha's face as she gave me a sympathetic emotional pulse. She was not wrong, but she only knew half the story. VioletBlood, for her part, was confused, but she trusted me. My tail trembled; here it was. I could unburden myself and reveal my past life, my past lives.

"Of course, my Countess, but could it wait?" VioletBlood asked.

I blinked. "What?"

"Well, it looks like that Sister of Our Martyred Lady wants to talk to you," VioletBlood said as she pointed to that tall, intense-looking sister who had emerged from the chapel, from my chapel.

Eyes widening, Visha covered her mouth with her hand at the slender nun who stomped over to us, her silvery tail flicking back and forth.

It was then that recognition struck; I knew this person. We had last met a lifetime ago, but it was hard to forget those maddened eyes.

"What's she doing here?" Visha asked in a quiet voice that still got VioletBlood's attention.

She's here because you asked the Archangel to do something for her. You expressed sympathy for the damage Being X had done to her life, her mind. Well here Mary is, the poisonous voice of my inner demon gleefully purred.

"That's.... the question," I asked, my mouth dry despite the warming broth.

"Who is she?" Tail flicking, VioletBlood looked between us, her suspicions raised, with her concern focused on our approaching guest.

"One of those things I wanted to tell you about," I dejectedly said as the brunette nun stomped up to us, her eyes blazing. My Zephyr spiraled about, quickly shaking out of their torpor.

Of course, Mary was drawn to the Order of Our Martyred Lady, I thought as I sized up her glossy habit. It was cut differently from mine: the skirting was narrower, her white scapular was longer and hung from a metal belt, and the outfit had more armored accents in the shoulders, brow, and forearms. The biggest change was that her wings were bound while mine were simply covered by a sheer shawl.

Maybe I should count my blessings that she's managed to stay in a mainstream sect. Even the bloody-headed Martyred Sisters have standards, I added, and then the bottom fell out of my stomach.

There were more than just ecclesiastic hair pins just barely concealed by her wimple. She was a Ritual Pilot, an Andromachin Pilot. And that meant... my tail stilled as my footing shifted and my Zephyr cased their gamboling.

My eyes darted about and spotted some of Mother's huscarls who were alertly watching. So, they knew someone had let the equivalent of an attack helicopter into my manor house. I pushed down my anxiety. If my senses were right, it was an unpowered helicopter, but still, I thought back to the casting with Mother Clementia in the chapel.

If my Duchess's air cover was on point, then this would not be a total disaster. By Her Holy Wounds, I would even be happy to have Librarian Evadne ready to step in!

As if sensing our unease, the nun slowed her approach. A scowl was ill-hidden by her veil.

"Sister DiamondDust!" she shouted in a voice I had not heard for a lifetime and had never wished to hear again. Not that we talked over much.

By the way Visha's tail curled, she recognized that, too.

"That's Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust!" VioletBlood countered, her own spirits swirling with aggressive energy.

The nun, Mary, the accursed Mary Sioux, met the focus of three pilots with the same effortless confidence I had expected from her. Though instead of frothing anger, she beheld a crystalline, obsessive focus as if every choice, every event in two lives had led her to this moment.

With some effort, I kept in a sigh of frustration I very much wanted to unleash. I was tired, emotionally worn out, and I literally haven't thought about her for the past fifteen years. I wanted to tell her to make an appointment with my secretary maid and then go find some hot chocolate and cuddle my nieces, after I confessed to my Vs.

But this woman was dangerous and I could not just idly dismiss her like a noisome peddler.

"That's enough." I held up a hand to calm my fiancee before turning to Mary. "You have my name, Sister; may I know yours?"

"Fame does precede you wherever you go, White Silver," the woman smiled, her fangs gleaming. "It is... gratifying to... live long enough to see that even one such as you can see the light and burn with faith."

Responding to my increasing ire, my Zephyr swirled around the other nun's. "I am not-" Exhaling, I tried to calm myself. A fully-uniformed nun with her habit whipping with magical wind as power gathered around her was not the image I wanted to project if I wanted to counter this fanatic's assertion that we were fellow zealots. "Your name, Sister?" I repeated, forcing an even tone.

"I am Sister Maaria RedLash of Our Martyred Lady, and" she paused to adjust her wimple. "Of the Andromachin Flyvabnet Corps." Maaria's eyes gleamed with the expected mad pride, but there was a wound in her voice.

Given what I knew of the woman, which was admittedly little, I only knew a bit more of her than her equally cursed father, the pride was expected. Being an ordained sister and a member of House Andromache's elite Flyvabnet, literally "flying weapon" corps, were achievements of note.

Many Great Houses used internal enchantments to create specialist units of low profile combat fliers or, as Elena did, as a way to enhance elite units based around conventional Ritual Plate. However, Andromache was unique in employing such implants on a large scale.

VioletBlood glanced between Visha and Maaria, her green eyes calculating. The inquiry did not need to pass her lips for me to hear it: Countess, I've known you since you were eleven, so how is it you find Pilots intimately familiar with you, whom I've never met?

Her unspoken question was another stone weighing me down, but that was a burden I could bear.

"Sister Maaria, what brings you to be a guest in my home?" I asked, pushing the social obligations to the forefront. She had managed to be civil during the rite, but perhaps the bloody spectacle kept her sated.

Anger flaring as her eyes glowed, Maaria's tail flicked as she exhaled, and her hands clenched as she recited a quick prayer. Her emotions calmed, and I had to keep myself from echoing her words.

Studying my face and hands, Maaria smiled. "I should not be surprised that you would prosper under such burdens, your other moniker was quite suitable? Of course the Devil of the Rhine would prosper in the pit."

"That was a name failures gave me for daring to stay alive," I snarled before realizing what I had let slip.

"Rhine?" Blinking, VioletBlood clutched her broth-filled cup as Visha stepped closer to give her a comforting pulse.

Maaria gave the redhead a quizzical look. "I don't remember this one, but I can't say I knew every aerial mage in your battalion."

My tail stiffened. DarkStar's blood! She always had the worst timing. I was about to tell VioletBlood and Visha the truth, but now Mary is back to her old tricks. "Sister Maaria, why are you here? What brings you back into my life?"

"Back? When did you two, no all three of you, know each other?" VioletBlood inquired, hurt in her voice.

"She didn't know?" Maaria tilted her head.

"Don't you start!" I pointed at her, not quite snarling, before turning to my fiancee. "I was about to tell you... I should have told you, but... I'm reincarnated, there's more to that, but we have a guest to deal with."

For a moment, VioletBlood's face twisted, but then her green eyes went from pained to calculating. "Oh, so that's how it is," a vicious smirk slid onto her face.

"LoveBlood, it's not like that! Mary and I weren't in a relationship; in fact we hated each other!"

The Baroness waved that aside. "Not that, I mean that you were all RP pilots in this past life. Or whatever an aerial mage is," The redhead rolled her eyes. "Either way even with a head start and all that extra experience, I can still fly just as well as you, better in some ways."

"I... I can't argue with that," I admitted. VioletBlood did have better straight acceleration than I did, and in every aspect of air combat and command, she had managed to keep up.

"Good Countess, we will talk about this," VioletBlood announced, her narrowed eyes delivering notice that I was not quite off the hook yet. "But first figure out why your masochistic nun hate-lover has decided to come back into your life."

"I am not a masochist!" Maaria demanded, balling her fists as her barbed tail whipped about. "Flagellation is a key part of my faith!"

"The flogging was a guess, and not something I'd entirely object to," VioletBlood laughed while giving me a teasing wink. "But no, my comment was referring to your surgical implantation of flight enhancements."

Maaria exhaled through her nose. "You try my patience and my faith, Legionary."

Visha's tail flicked as she had stepped to one side to give her Zephyr a clear angle on the wayward nun. Unlike mine, which seemed almost accepting of Maaria's spirits, my wing woman's Zephyr seemed oddly... agitated.

VioletBlood gave a dismissive wave. "Countess, perhaps your 'friend' needs some punishment. Perhaps as a reunion you both would enjoy that. Oh don't give me that look, Tauria; we both know you have more vine staffs, swagger sticks, batons, and crops than even the most aggressive centurion would need."

Keeping the flush out of my face, I tried to keep my roiling emotions under control. "Mary.... Maaria. You picked a very, very, bad day to blunder back into my life. I ask you thrice; what do you want? Why are you here?"

Tail straight, Maaria narrowed her gaze. "DarkStar give me strength," she murmured as her bound wings drooped. "I'm not here to rehash our history, to assign blame."

I couldn't help but snorting at that, but I instantly regretted it. Angering the fanatical pilot was not a great idea, and part of me was bemoaning my own lack of armor. Maybe LoveBlood wasn't so crazy wanting to make my Polyxo look like an armored nun. That way we could always wear it, the silken voice of my inner demonic noble whispered.

The hurt clouding Maaria's face made her strangely vulnerable. "Countess.... Sister, I was shown that my past life was nothing but shining lies. I had been deceived, by a luminous being that promised me glory, and righteous vengeance. And you had killed my father."

"Father?" VioletBlood asked in a confused whisper. Her own spirits were not as agitated as Visha's, but they were uncertain and far more skeptical of Maaria's spirits than mine were.

I rubbed my forehead. "It wasn't personal."

"To me it was," Maaria glowered. "That is the being, the false one made it personal. After... after our battle it was made clear to me that my father was drawn into this; first him then me. My family was toyed with for generations."

"I know. I ended it," I stated.

Clenching her jaws, Maaria barred her fangs before catching herself. "Yes, the Archangel told me. He was very... forgiving, but was quite absolute on your role in... saving me."

VioletBlood gave me a level look. I'll confess, the pride emanating from her at my presumable holiness disturbed me more than the pain at the secrets.

Sipping her broth, Visha eyed Maaria. Despite her easing tension, she was still waiting for the prickly nun to do something... unwise. I did not disagree with her assessment.

"Fine, you talked with the Archangel too. I didn't expect him to be so... chatty. Still better than Being... err that 'luminous being'. Your imposter."

"Or the Lady from the Railroad?" Maaria asked, disapproval shadowing her face.

"You know of her?" I inquired, keeping a tremor out of my voice.

"A nameless agent of the railroad summoned a murder of crows to brutalize a sinner," Maaria flatly stated. "What else would she be? Andromache may be small, but we are the crossroads of Diyu."

I studied the nun anew. Ignoring the biases of our past, I focused on who she was now. She was still young but was already a full Sister, and an implanted member of the Flyvabnet Corps too. Surrounded by larger powers and under constant threat of invasion, Andromachin foreign policy was not above making strategic alliances and leveraging irregular operations. "I suppose you have some experience as well."

"She wasn't hiding; for the Railroad Lady, the ritual was all about making everyone in the... business aware of the cost of crossing her," VioletBlood said.

"Such deals are beneath a Sister of our faith," Maaria waspishly lectured.

"We can discuss scripture and portents later," I held a hand.

Maaria exhaled and muttered about heretical apocrypha that her veil hardly obscured.

"That is, if you're here to catch up and have a civil discussion of old times. If you're here for revenge..." I flashed my fangs. "I'll be happy to reunite you with our mutual friend."

"No..." Maaria steeled herself and then, with seemingly a great force of will, lowered her head to present her horns. "I'm here to... apologize..."

"Oh, you picked the proper day!" VioletBlood barked a laugh, but I could feel the hollow horror beneath her bloodthirsty mask,

"No. Not an Apology." Maaria bristled and, still bowing her horns, stared down at me. "I will not demand redress, not for the pain you caused me. It was war, but I became a monster to try and slay you: heartless, fanatical, and cruel. I tainted my soul to stop you; it wasn't enough.

"The Great Maker is eternally forgiving. And with the clarity of death I was on my knees in supplication." Maaria clenched her hands around the symbol of DarkStar that hung from her neck. "A messenger from on high gave me a chance in this purgatory. And what do I find? You, once again flying brightest in the sky; I knew it to be my mission to find you again."

I glanced at my Vs and saw that Mother's huscarls were still giving me the illusion of privacy. I had accumulated plenty of traumas today; I did not need to walk on eggshells around my old enemy. I forced my tail to relax; Maaria's emotional state felt... delicate.

Her moods flickering, the taller nun paused and gathered herself. "Sister DiamondDust. I am sorry."

Birds cawed overhead as I stared at the other nun. I felt a smug pulse from VioletBlood as if to say. You came all this way to apologize because you feel sorry? I thought, flexing my free hand. It took effort to push down my frustration and keep my claws from extending. Suspicion gnawed at me; Mary was a direct creature, but there had to be more.

But I had already taken my vengeance. Mary had died at my hands, and if she were sincere, Maaria was here trying to end a generational cycle of revenge, end it before it could cross to a new world. "Sister Maaria, offense has not been taken. Would... would you like to come inside and talk?"

End Chapter 19 of Book 2

Organizational Note: With the end of the home-front arc "Derailed Break" in sight I felt that it was time for a reorganization and to go with the plan to split Little Demon into multiple books. With the first 20 chapters in book 1 "What Comes After" the next 20 in the second book "More than a Shadow". Book 3 will be "Returning What was Once Lost. Apologies for any confusion

I am also sorry for the lateness of this chapter. But in good news the next, and last, chapter and epilogue of book 2 have been written and are being edited so expect them to be posted. I also will post some more story art and will work on the next Return chapter as well.

Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter. Special thanks to Read for help on the Apology scene giving it the right ritual context and to MetalDragon on getting Focht's voice dialed in, and to ScarletFox and Battalion for chapter and book names. And thanks, and apologies, to anyone I have missed.

 

[Simonbob]

Huh.

How's Mary going to take the reason why Tanya was even on the field of battle as a kid? I mean, X screwed with Tanya first, and pretty dammed hard.

I wasn't expecting this, but it's good twist.


And the Apology deserves it's Capital Letter. A good chapter, all around.