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

[RogueInquisitor]

First from Lexi we have Quirinus (Left) in her Harmonia air superiority suit watching Fabia (Right) show off the Sarpedona ground attack suit's upgrade package. This is also a slightly more updated reference for these two suits.

​

Click to shrink...

What exactly is the upgrade package? Is it built into the faulds?

 

[Sunshine Temple]

What exactly is the upgrade package? Is it built into the faulds?

Click to shrink...

And much of the torso armor and the (unpictured helmet).

The Sarpedona Life Extension and Performance Enhancement program will get explained in more detail in the start of book 3 (I've written that much!).

But in short ("short"): it's a package of block upgrades to the scrying system, increase the range of the anti-armor weapon systems, and increasing the flight envelope to enable ah higher cruise speed and better high velocity maneuverability. (and all the power system upgrades to keep that going). The goal is very much *not* to turn the Sarpendona into an air superiority platform. Instead it's to keep it competitive and more survivable against enemy anti-air and second line RP assets. The higher cruise is for things as simple as making mission planning more easy and having is so that Sarpendona can reposition on the battlefield more easily.

The motivation to have this as an upgrade package is to keep the Imperial Legion's massive number of ground attack suits (~60% of Legion total) in service longer. The Legions have a lot of kit and RP is only one procurement line among many, and they have a smaller budget than the Fleet. So it is in their interest to keep the existing units in operation. It also comes into who pays for them, the Sarpendona is the only RP model that the Fleet has fewer in service than the Legions (The fleet does have Landing Support Wings but they are not universal). So unlike say Harmonia, Polyxo, or well any other RP suit, the Fleet wouldn't be the primary one paying for the upgrades, and the Fleet is less concerned about the Sarpendona becoming more obsolescent. Their main concern is keeping their strike, air superiority, multi-role, and scrying suits top of the line.

For example the Legions have about 7 thousand Sarpendona, but only about 900 Polyxo Multi-role, and not quite 2 thousand Harmonia. (Meanwhile the Fleet has so many more Polyxo and Harmonia)

 

[MemeKing]

Hey @Sunshine Temple, How much does the natural shapeshifting abilities of the diyu demons affect aspects of their society? Do couples change shape during their relationships in response to the roles they fill in it? Like the feminine roles becoming extremely voluptuous and the masculine role becoming slimmer + more muscular. Can they change their feet into hooves and vice-versa? Can they give themselves fur coats like a kitsune? How far can they take the shapeshifting and how fast is it?

Also, how many races exist in the world you've created. We know about the Diyu and Kitsune, but do others exist. Are there Minotaurs and Holstaurs? what about Oozes or slimes? Any kobolds or lamia? Do these other potential races have kingdom's of there own?

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Hey @Sunshine Temple, How much does the natural shapeshifting abilities of the diyu demons affect aspects of their society? Do couples change shape during their relationships in response to the roles they fill in it? Like the feminine roles becoming extremely voluptuous and the masculine role becoming slimmer + more muscular. Can they change their feet into hooves and vice-versa? Can they give themselves fur coats like a kitsune? How far can they take the shapeshifting and how fast is it?

Click to shrink...

It is a major part of it, given they are latent shape-shifting. Though not all couples go for a femme/butch dynamic. And they can change their looks on "minor" things pretty easilly, think things that allow a Diyu Demon to "Pass" as a human.

How far it can be taken and how fast is on a curve. They all have some capability, which is tied to regen and can be a bit slower, but there are those who are especially talented who have full shapeshiftin and can be able to impersonate others

Which has a lot of applications for things like spying.

Also, how many races exist in the world you've created. We know about the Diyu and Kitsune, but do others exist. Are there Minotaurs and Holstaurs? what about Oozes or slimes? Any kobolds or lamia? Do these other potential races have kingdom's of there own?

Click to shrink...

There Forest People and drow, and a few others. Alas not any of the ones you listed really. Many have their own settlements and a degree of autonomy, but they don't get to the scale of even a Minor House, let alone a Great House.

 

[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"
Epilogue: Party Favors


The last day of the 432nd year of the Fourth Epoch proved to be a busy one. Managing the logistics of feeding and entertaining dozens of guests—in addition to the already generous number of people staying at the manor house—was a task that consumed exactly as much time as I allocated for it and then a bit more.

The heavy mug full of mulled cider, at least, washed some of the strain away from the first sip. The spices and cinnamon were charming, and the beverage's warmth and generous allotment of powdered life crystals cut off the evening's chill. Flushed and feeling the spirit of the day, I stood before the windows looking at the grounds beyond the colonnade that connected the manor house to the chapel. The sky lit up with the occasional sparkling burst as the celebrations began all across the county. Some displays were far, launched from manses on distant hills or even across the county line, while others were much closer.

There was, for instance, the celebration which had spread across my own grand floor. Guests reclined on couches, chatted around tables, or otherwise bunched up in conversation or broke away in discreet twos and threes. There were hearths full of blazing fires, sideboards groaning beneath food-laden trays, and no less than half a dozen punch bowls and three full bars distributed strategically across the open portions of my home.

I had instructed Uwe to ensure that every kitsune tending bar would keep an eye out in case anyone got too deep into their cups. If there were any such cases, he was to quietly inform me or one of my mothers who would intervene, lest a tipsy guest embarrass herself.

Thus, I had almost tuned out the lively chatter all around me, and it took a moment to register the quiet presence at my side. Turning, I looked up. Then my gaze went even higher.

Wearing a bespoke charcoal suit with an amber tie, Lares stared out the window, eyes focused on the woods beyond the chapel. Compared to my fluffy pink dress, he looked dashing and powerful. He held a steaming pewter mug in one hand with a stuffed pita that smelled heartily of sausage, garlic, onions, and garum in the other. Both items looked dainty pinched between his massive fingers.

"Countess," the Forest Person's deep voice said as he bowed his craggy head. "Lovely party."

"Thank you, Lares," I smiled up at him. "A far more relaxing event than the last time I had everyone over, wouldn't you say?"

He grunted agreement before finishing the pita in one bite.

"You doing anything of note before your leave is up?" I asked him.

"Some timberwork for the family. Storm knocked a few trees down. A couple lost their crowns; without their upper branches, they'll die anyway. A few are good hardwood so it gave the lads at the mill and the seasoning shed some winter work." Lares's tone was wistful as he sipped from his mug. "And you, Countess?"

"Other than railroad work and social obligations?" I asked.

"Other than that," he agreed.

"I managed to get a bit in with the local Drow and some of the other mushroom farmers," I casually replied, as if cracking that insular nut hadn't been the work of weeks of careful networking. "Nothing firm yet, but I'll be keeping an eye open… just in case there are any farmers and foragers who might benefit from a minor capital investment or two."

"That's a start. To a nice, relaxing business." Lares held out his mug in a toast, low so I could reach

"To quieter times," I clinked my cup to his and looked into my mug before sipping.

"This punch tastes fine... for you?" I asked, raising my voice slightly over a whistling from outside, followed by a small explosion and then a cheer.

"Why wouldn't it?" he asked. "I have more of a liquor tolerance than you do."

"Not that! There's hardly any alcohol in it!" I insisted, indignant on his behalf. I could have taken from the broodling punch bowl in isolation, but watching a soldier sip on near-virgin punch while I was stuck wearing this pink monstrosity of ruffles was an embarrassment too many. "I'm talking about how it's got... demonic ingredients."

"There was hardly any meat in the pita either," Lares observed, presumably as a joke, and then looked into his mug and took a thoughtful sip. "No eyeballs or fingers though in this brew, so that's a nice change of pace."

It must be a joke… There's no way he'd say something like that with such a straight face if it wasn't… No, surely not.

"Not like that!" I pushed past his attempt at humor, almost as poor as I remembered Weiss's had been, so long ago, and persisted. "I mean the energy..."

"Oh... the blood sugar?" Lares vaguely shook his mug again, sloshing the remnants of his punch around like a sommelier. "Yeah, it's a bit sweet. And I don't taste anybody."

"That'd be.. excessively expensive," I murmured, tilting my head up to catch his eye, scanning for tattletale signs of attempted humor, ignoring my curls as they bounced flagrantly around my ears. "Oh, that's what you call it! Yes, the life crystals. Yes, they are quite sweet, aren't they?"

"Good, good…" Lares muttered vaguely. He had a commendable poker face, though the stoicism contrasted against the festive atmosphere might have been another joke in itself. "I'm just happy you're not starving or ravenous. You do have to eat right if you want to grow properly."

"Yes, I am aware, and I eat plenty." I did not pout. "But... There's no side effects for you?"

"It does give a bit of pep in my step," the giant shaggy soldier said, and demonstrated just that with a very graceful little jig.

That got a cheer from the crowd of broodlings standing just outside under the colonnade's roof. Apparently, with the lull in Gibbs's fireworks display, the young demons had gone on the hunt for some new entertainment.

Reinhild opened the door, and a veritable mob of the terrors rushed inside in a swirl of snow and little flapping wings. Positively Lilliputian compared to Lares, the little demons swirled around him and begged him shamelessly for another dance. Among the crowd were a handful of young kits with perked ears and fluffy tails, distinguished by those ears and tails and not by any improvement in their behavior over the broodlings.

All tiny fangs and over-stimulated eyes, the dozen or so broodlings turned their attention from Lares, when he proved shy, to me, still ardent in their demands for a dance. Many clutched soft dolls that bore my likeness, though a few with better taste preferred their uncanny idols in the image of my Vs.

"Countess! Did you see the fireworks? Are the spiders ready? Where's dessert? Are raptors really that fluffy? Why is your dress so big? Will you dance for us? What's DarkStar like? Can you sign my storybook?" The mob's questions overlapped like drum-fire, melting into a single unbroken whine.

I tried to answer to the best of my ability, without embarrassing myself too much. Lares helped; clearly he found the small demons, who were especially so from his perspective, amusing.

After making sure no broodlings were left outside where they could get into trouble, Gibbs stepped inside and bowed her horns. "Ma'am, Lares. Enjoying the display?"

"Quite so. It lacks the bombast of a triumph, but I appreciate the personal touch," Lares said, with surprising sincerity.

"Very good," I said, offering my own acknowledging nod and looking meaningfully at the pyrotechnics crate and the big display piece off to one side.

The young demons stood between us, their gazes swiveling from person to person as we spoke. Tails quivered with barely contained excitement as their attention came to focus on Lares as their little faces stared up. The young kitsune also seemed ready to pounce.

And then the dam burst and the broodlings rushed to Lares and, in a scrambling mass, tried climbing up the large Forest Person's legs like a clowder of rambunctious kittens.

"No claws! Don't ruin his suit!" I hastily shouted, then winced. "I mean, don't climb."

"We're being good!' A broodling cried while the ones still with their feet on the floor pouted and complained. "Yeah, give us a turn!"

"I'm so sorry," I turned to Lares.

"It's okay. I have young siblings. Nieces and nephews too," Lares assured, helping keep one broodling from falling. He paused in thought. "Well, I suppose my sister's no longer so young. She's joining the Forestry Services this spring."

"For Larium County?" I asked. Forestry Services was functionally the main law enforcement and first responders in many provinces' unincorporated regions, at least for day to day purposes. Major investigations were conducted by provincial or imperial authorities.

"If she can," Lares shrugged, broodlings scrambling as his shoulders rose and fell. "Aria's clever enough and will make a good deputy, but we both know that our kind are in very high demand. There will be some fighting among the green-jackets for which fort'll get her."

"She does sound like an asset," I agreed, nodding along, picking up the subtext of his reply. "It seems to me that a family with such a strong tradition of serving the Imperatrix, especially with one son deployed so far away, can at least have their daughter serve closer to home."

"I can't disagree. Those I've talked to in the Forestry Service agree with me but..." Lares carefully trailed off. His implication was obvious: he lacked the political capital, but I, as his noble patron, possessed the sort of access necessary to pull all sorts of levers and strings.

"I'll put in a good word. I do need to keep on good terms with the county sheriff, especially with all the woods being cleared for the railway," I assured him with a smile. Networking and exchanging favors for preferred internal positions was something I understood completely. I'd experience working within such webs across all three of my lives, within corporate, military, and now even courtly spheres. It would be almost inconsequential, so far as favors went. Besides, I liked Lares, and we had a good working relationship, and I could see the value of sister Aria as a deputy in my county.

Lares's eyes widened, doubtless worried about the cost of my favor. "Yes, thank you. I think we can make that work."

Gibbs chuckled. "Oh, we know our Countess isn't that cutthroat."

I had to nod in agreement.

"She's not?" one of the broodlings trying to climb Lares asked. "But the book I read had her cutting all sorts of pirate throats!"

"Was that the one where she blew up the pirate airship?" the kit who managed to cling to Lares's shoulders asked.

"No claws," I automatically said, making sure she wasn't digging into his shoulder.

"It was the other one with sky pirates!" the first broodling replied, ignoring my admonition completely.

"At least they're not biting him," Gibbs muttered, barely concealing her amusement.

"Well... Are you ready to ring in the new year?" I asked her, trying to ignore the news of yet another fanciful tale that was apparently being told about me now.

"I think we'll manage," the head Ritualista said, a bit more dourly than I had expected.

"Any... trouble?" I asked as my eyes glanced down at the broodlings scattered around us. I felt guilty, at my relief, certainly not jealousy, that no one was trying to climb onto my gown. VioletBlood had outdone herself with this silken confection, filled as its bustles and fluffed cavities were for little entertainments for my Zephyr.

"No clawing, biting, or little fires?" Lares asked as he carefully moved an arm to let one of the young Shadow twins climb up to a shoulder in bright-eyed triumph. "I recall once having to use a water can to keep little ones from burning things."

"No, they're very well behaved," Gibbs sighed at the small demons using Lares like a piece of playground equipment as evidence to the contrary.

Other party attendees reached with amusement at the spectacle, especially after I had to shoo out a curious broodling who tried to explore under the hem of my gown. My niece was spooked by the overreaction of my air spirits. While I had maintained poise and dignity, my Zephyr must have been surprised by Talia's over-eager spirits, and lifted both of us up.

But we were airborne for but a moment, and my gown was smoothed back down, and I was holding onto my niece. The hug was fine as we were family, and besides, broodlings were broodlings.

Though this did cause the little terrors to split their attention from using Lares as a diving platform to practice their flying, to asking about my air spirits.

Gibbs slowly shook her head. "Outside, they are quite behaved: staying far enough back, not taking any fireworks, and no playing with fire. Other than getting into people's personal space." She gave the broodlings a stern look. "Because bad girls have to go inside."

"Yes, Miss Gibbs," the girls replied. The six year old twin members of the Shadow brood nodded along from their perches on Lares's shoulders.

"Just remember to keep being good; otherwise we'll have to go with illusions instead of real fireworks," I warned the broodlings. I didn't want to be too much of a killjoy, but I also did not want anyone to get hurt.

The groans and complaints were near universal and caused their cavorting to pause.

"Illusionary fireworks are just as pretty and a skilled caster can even capture the smells and pressures," I reminded the ungrateful lot.

"But that's not real!" Liata, one of my nieces, complained. "Fireworks should be real," she added to universal acclaim.

"Then don't cause Miss Gibbs any problems. Besides, there's plenty of stuff to do tonight," Rita Shadow said. Being a year younger than myself, the black-haired teen had been recruited into babysitting her sisters, though those twins were well-behaved enough.

"Thank you," I nodded to them and sipped more from my mug. "Well, I don't need to distract you from your fun."

"Come on girls, Countess DiamondDust and Lares have plenty of other guests to talk to. Now get some snacks and then I've got some rockets that I think you'll like. If you are very, very good, I will show you how to properly aim and work as a team to safely fire them," Gibbs clapped her hands.

After the broodling scampered out to the nearest refreshment table before gamboling back outside, Lares and I were left with three Shadow girls.

Rita looked to her twin sisters, who had run back to the Forest Person. "Um... Lares is it? Could you watch Lyana and Soraria? That is, if you will permit me some questions, My Lady?" she asked me, her tail curling nervously around her legs.

"Oh?" I asked, noncommittal. She seemed awfully nervous…

"It's about some questions I have for... you, and for my sister, Victorious," Rita said, her tail nervously flicking.

Ah, so that's it, is it?

"I'd be happy to watch your sisters, Miss Shadow," Lares assured as the twins ran up to him. "Go on, Countess."

""Thank you," I nodded to Lares, turning as he led the twins back outside to rejoin the rest of the broodlings.

"I think your sister's over in the drawing room," I told Rita as she followed me deeper into the manor house.

Rita nodded dutifully, but she stated close by my side.

"Are you having a good trip out to Eastern Province?" I asked the younger woman, opting for conversation in the face of her watchful quiet.

"It's been a real adventure," she gushed, a spring of words emerging at first prompting. "I never knew House BlackSky could be so big! The capital was amazing but a little overwhelming."

"You've seen more of the empire than I have!" I laughed, throwing the girl a bone and exhibiting interest. "I'd like to visit Amber Island and the other western provinces."

The presence of a few of Mother Clementia's sisters and a couple of maids in the hallway gave me a break from the small-talk as I exchanged happy greetings with them.

"But you've been offworld, out on the Spine!" Rita countered, apparently not inclined to simply take my polite show of interest at face value. "You've really traveled! Truly traveled, gone well away from home!"

"That was part of..." I frowned as the denarius dropped and I realized why she'd sought me out while I was away from her sister and the rest of her family. "This is about the Legions, isn't it?"

"I'm not bad with Zephyr!" Rita insisted we come to the drawing room. "I can be a VTOL pilot!"

"You're a bit... young," I coughed, finishing lamely.

Visha looked up from the oak table where she was playing dice with her older sister and sister-in-law. "Tauria, that's a bit amusing for you to say it," she said, coming over to give quick hugs to her sister and I.

Tail swishing, Rita gave me a smug smile over Visha's shoulder.

"But that doesn't mean you're still not too young to enlist," Ines told her younger sister as she absently sorted a pile of coins and flicked her braid over her shoulder.

"I just want to prepare for it! I can still make a difference," Rita promised. "Besides, they're going to need more pilots for the new Manta Ray bombers in a couple years!"

I gave a strained smile to the eager young demoness. Strictly speaking, she was correct. A next generation torpedo bomber, the Manta Ray was entering mass production, and those planes would need new pilots. On the other wing, most of those pilots would be pulled from other VTOLs such as the older Hasta bomber.

Indeed, neither fighter nor bomber pilots represented anything but a minority among the pilots. Transport and logistics fliers made up the vast majority of the Ventus specialization in both the Fleet and Legions. If Rita wanted to make a difference for the average hoofslogger, then driving a troop and cargo hauler would have the greatest impact, light on the glory though the specialty admittedly was.

Visha's emotions flicked between pride and wanting to support her little sister, and various types of unease. "There is one issue, Rita," she said, putting a hand on her sister's shoulder.

Rita brushed her short bangs back, and Visha paused at her fidgeting gesture.

"The Imperial Legions don't... really... fly torpedo bombers," Visha gently said. "You could be in the Fleet, if that's what you want, but..."

I could understand the awkwardness of the Shadow sisters. Beyond the normal inter-service rivalry between the Fleet and Legions, their mother, Ema, was particularly fearful of someone near and dear to her being lost in a stricken airship. Consequently, she did not want any of her daughters in the Household Fleet. It was not a rational fear, especially given how often Visha had deployed from Fleet ships, but rationality rarely mattered in matters of anxious worry.

Frankly speaking, from where I stood, what branch a pilot flew from mattered not at all when they got shot down. But I was honest enough to understand that my experiences might have some influence on that view, trumping in some small degree my native cold logic.

"Maybe you can focus on something our Mothers approve of," Ines mused, brightening at the thought. "After all, a few more swimming championships under your belt and you could get a scholarship!"

"What about flight school?" Rita asked, trying and failing to keep the whine out of her tone.

"Have you talked to your mothers?" I asked, double-checking that neither Shadow matriarch was in the room. If I recalled correctly, they were still in the stables watching the mounts saddled and readied.

Wings twitching, Rita looked down at her shoes.

"She has," Ines confirmed.

"There's been some discussion about it." Marcella EmberTalon agreed as the green-haired woman looked to her wife, toying idly with a pair of dice.

"The family business does have a place for you," Ines said, giving Visha a pensive look, but she had stood up to welcome Rita and offer her some food and a hug of her own.

Visha's gaze guiltily flicked between her sisters. If I were any judge of character, I was sure her sisters suspected the guilt was due to Visha having joined the Legions, leaving them for years at a time. But Visha had another secret from her family. We had talked and Visha had decided to tell her mothers, at least, before the Shadow family went back to Amber Island. But for tonight, at least, that secret still lay between them, fresh on Visha's mind and, I was sure, oppressive on her tongue.

VioletBlood had joked that if Visha waited, then someone else from Germania would show up to ruin the moment. Neither of us laughed at LoveBlood's comment, though I may have cracked a smile at the idea of Weiss or Koenig as one of us. The possibility that someone else from there was here, no matter how remote, couldn't be fully discounted.

Rerugen, for example, I could see adapting quite well.

"But maybe we can talk about flight school lessons... when you're older," Visha offered.

Rita pouted.

"There you are!" VioletBlood loudly announced her presence as she and one of my sisters came into the drawing room.

Wearing a scarlet and silver dress that complemented her russet skin, Doctrix Countess RedWing's golden eyes gleamed as she stepped in behind LoveBlood. "Indeed, there you are, little sister."

I nodded to her. "Were you looking for me?"

"Our mother would like a moment of your time." Redwing sipped amber liquor from a crystal glass. "And your lovely fiancee figured you would be here," she said, handing off the glass to the redhead.

I was once more lifted off my feet as the older woman pulled me up into a hug.

"Oh, you look so adorable and delectable!" the university professor gushed as she held me out to inspect my gown. "You picked a very complimentary garment, Baroness,"

"Thank you, my Lady." VioletBlood bowed her horns to my sister before turning to me with her customary cockiness. "If I can't find you, I know our Islander Girl will."

Visha shook her head while Rita pouted, and the other Shadow sisters coughed. The slightly rude comment undercut their amusement at me being put into this undignified position.

The Baroness's tail flicked. "What is the trouble?" the aristocrat asked, genuinely clueless.

Stoically letting myself be returned to the floor, I bit my tongue, but my older sister snorted and idly adjusted my curls.

"I want to be a bomber pilot, Baroness! But that would mean joining the Fleet..." Rita trailed off.

"Oh that's easy," VioletBlood waved it off as she sipped an aperitif from a tiny glass. "Legion Strike RP pilots strap evocation flasks to their hips that are veritable bombs."

Visha shook her head, while Rita looked sad.

"Okay, Ritual Plate's not for you," VioletBlood continued breezily along. "You could get yourself press-ganged, that's a classic shippie tradition. Your family won't blame you if you get tricked into taking the Imperatrix's coin."

"The Household Fleet hasn't done that in decades;" RedWing snorted, clearly amused. "We're not perfidious Alecto."

There were a few chuckles; as residents of Amber Island, the Shadow sisters were familiar with House Alecto's reputation as moderately troublesome allies.

"What does Mother wish to talk about?" I asked my sister, changing the topic back to the maternal summons.

"ArgentShroud just arrived and she bears some correspondence, including letters for you," RedWing said.

"Oh? She was able to make it tonight?" I asked, happy to have more of my family in attendance. As heir and castellan, ArgentShroud did many things to help Mother run the Duchy Argenia.

"Isn't it lovely!" VioletBlood gushed. "The whole family coming together for the new year!"

"Wait... when did she arrive? I should have been on hand to welcom her to the party!" I frowned and stepped out into the hallway.

Reinhild seemingly appeared carrying a small platter of steaming sausages. "Countess?" the kitsune primly asked, the picture of diffident service.

RedWing stepped over to me. "Calm down, Sister. Argent didn't want to make a production out of her arrival, that's it."

I shook my head. Part of being a noble was that you had to grin and bear some level of infringement on your personal life. Sometimes, we didn't have the freedom to avoid becoming the center of a production.

Reinhild's polite smile wasn't quite enough to conceal her nerves. Nobody wanted to step into noble power games if they could avoid it; certainly not someone with as keen a nose and wits as the former scout possessed.

Shaking my head, I waved off her concerns. "Well, I can talk to Mother about all that. Do you know what the letters are about?"

"I can't say," RedWing shrugged, embracing discretion with valor.

"It's no trouble if you want to stay and catch up with your sisters," I assured Visha, who had risen halfway to her feet.

"We'll be sure to reunite well before midnight," VioletBlood promised, stepping up beside me.

After looking at her sisters, Visha nodded and relaxed back into her chair. "Thanks, we'll catch up soon."

Smiling to her, VioletBlood took my arm and pulled me out of the drawing room. "Come, come! I'm curious what news your sister has for us!"

"Us," RedWing gently laughed as we went down the hallway.

We passed through the great halls, which bustled with activity. With Saber's Watch behind us, the drifts of garlands, constellations of shining stars, and decorations had grown less omni-present, but plenty still remained. In another couple weeks, I was sure the manor house would be back to normal.

Then, it would be time for us to leave.

Mother Clementia was bustling around the buffet line, helping the cooking staff keep the warming trays filled and ensuring everyone had enough to eat. She looked up when she saw me from a quiet conversation with a local broodmother, who was helping keep everything organized. Valaria AshBone, her conversational partner, was a widow who had lost her mate in an airship crash to the south over the Gaurdia Sea.

It was good that Mother was helping her keep busy and distracted.

I gave Mother a wave before stepping over. She returned it with a fond smile while AshBone curtsied in greeting. "How's the evening? Any trouble?" I asked.

"Oh, no trouble, my Lady. Thank you for letting my little ones attend," AshBone said, rising back to her full height but still maintaining a slightly diffident air.

"No trouble at all," I assured her. "After all, there's already so many over tonight." I turned to Clementia. "Have you reminded everyone that the kitchens should be damped down at eleven? I want everyone free to witness the new year."

"Of course," Mother agreed, taking my arm and giving me a smile. "Your Duchess does have a suggestion that you may want to consider first, though."

"Oh? About what?"

"A family question," Clementia assured as she hugged me. "Just remember you'll always be my daughter."

I closed my eyes, relishing the emotional connection. Then, I then turned to the other woman.

I needed to clear the board before having this conversation.

"Please excuse that personal moment. Valaria, we'll talk later. My seneschal will need a small staff to maintain the manor when I'm deployed, and I would prefer to hire those in the community," I told the other woman what she wanted to hear, the white lie of charity slipping past my lips. The position would have sufficient remuneration and value, and if the work was not to Valaria's tastes, she would be able to seek a new job bearing a letter of reference from a countess.

Either way, my obligation would be sufficiently discharged.

AshBone bowed her head. It was easier for both of us to accept the polite fiction, even with the kitsune helping. Though most of those would follow me to Mursam, which would leave the manor understaffed. Conveniently, the widow AshBone had plenty of family here in Larium. I had already set a precedent by making a point to hire the butchers, cooks, and extra maids to help with various social functions. Bringing in her clan to fill the gap left by the kitsune only took that precedent a step further.

As I gave AshBone my seneschal's information and wished her a happy New Year, my sister talked with Mother Clementia which resulted, once again, in my gown being put on display while VioletBlood talked up my achievements and graces.

The two older women laughed, even my prospective new employee put a hand over her mouth as VioletBlood nattered on.

Once again, I bore being on display with all the dignity I could muster. By now, the rest of the merrymakers in the hall enjoying the food had turned to watch us.

"My, she is a very mature little one," RedWing smiled.

Mother Clementia's eyes danced with mirth. "We are all very proud of her."

"What else should one expect from an Imperial Heroine?" VioletBlood smirked.

"She has grown into her position. But you're not taking any credit for her noble bearing?" RedWing asked.

"That would be gauche." The Baroness's eyes gleamed as she took my hand. "And the brighter my diamond shines the more I sparkle!"

I let my fiancee pull me into a spin and a dip.

RedWing laughed and then, as we made our polite goodbyes to Clementia, both she and VioletBlood refreshed their drinks. I, with some reluctance, also had another glass of wassail.

We then made our way to the grand foyer and the double stairs. From the ease of her conversation with VioletBlood, it seemed that RedWing was not aware of my... past. It was nice that my Mothers had kept my secret.

Before we could reach the stairs, my pondering was interrupted by a harried pair of kitsune rushing into the foyer, a bit of panic pushing past their professional bearing. At their heels, or perhaps at their fluffy tails, a horde of scampering and screaming broodlings stampeded.

"Spider ride! Raptor time! Time to see the spiders! I want a feather!" they cheered, an excitable mob baying their demands like hounds.

The broodlings, leavened with a handful of kits, flowed round us all with wagging tails and flapping wings. Lares plodded at the end of the mob, making sure none of the little terrors escaped or snuck off. The opportunity to not just see feathered theropods and giant pseudo-arachnids but also ride them was too tempting, though, and all the broodlings seemed too eager to contemplate escape.

Smiling, RedWing watched them pass. "I cannot blame their enthusiasm. Carter's Short-Bristled Megapelma, to use their formal name, are rare and treasured status symbols of the Drow, and even those pack raptors are less common these days than in earlier times." The professor seemed almost wistful.

"As long as it's safe," I stated. Part of me was concerned about any injuries caused to guests of my household.

"Oh you worry too much," VioletBlood sent me a reassuring pulse as we started up the stairs. "They'll be watched in case anyone gets aggressive and starts biting and clawing."

"You're right. There are maids, grooms, and handlers." I nodded, deciding to accept the reassurance, and gathered up my skirts to take the steps without tripping.

"Quite so," VioletBlood smugly said once we reached the top of the stairs. "There's no reason to worry about broodlings hurting those majestic creatures."

I tilted my head. "Pardon?"

"Broodlings do have more exuberance than sense, and most of those are on their second set of baby teeth, which are quite sharp," RedWing agreed.

"Like being nipped by a puppy, poor spiders," VioletBlood shook her head.

I nearly walked into them in shock; we had reached the door to the suite I had given to my Duchess. "I... can't argue with that."

One of the more muscular feline maids opened the door for us before we could knock and let us into a well-appointed sitting room. The furniture was all upholstered in rich leather and polished wood, far more luxurious than the more functional seating and tables waiting for me in my own chambers.

Instead of remaining in the sitting room, though, we were led to a lovely kitchenette with wide windows opening to a terraced balcony. The stone counters were comfortably cluttered with well-thumbed copies of the Journal on Air Combat and other publications, all in neat stacks. Alongside the back issues were the verdant fruits of one of mother's other hobbies; the orchids and fragrant herbs just starting to flower, while the vines climbing up the wall trellis had already put out their heart shaped blooms. A small, temporary greenhouse occupied most of the balcony.

Standing on the slice of balcony not occupied with glass or greenery was Duchess SilverFlight. She was looking out to the grounds below her and, off in the distance, out over the county seat. Fireworks bloomed over Jopecott as the residents closed out the 432nd year of the Fourth Epoch.

A small writing desk stood next to her on the balcony, while one of her more delicate-looking maids waited discreetly in a corner, the image of attentive service.

A woman with the green-eyes, strong chin-line, and narrow nose of our mother sat on one of the balcony's chairs. The lean woman's hair was down, for a change, and it almost seemed incongruous to see Lady Castellan ArgentShroud lounging and at peace, a drink firmly in her hand.

Her eyes fell upon us, "Sisters! So good to see you. Come, come," she welcomed. "We were just having a private moment before joining the party. I do apologize for bringing... news."

Her eyes flicked to the desk, and I saw there was a pile of Mother's correspondence as well as two unopened letters.

The cups we had brought up the stairs were deftly refilled by the waiting maid.

Our Mother lifted her own fluted glass in salute and took a sip of the deep amber liquor within. "I don't think it is all bad… Certainly, this brandy is quite good." She turned back to the county seat. "More importantly, the railroad is progressing on schedule. The logjams have been mitigated. Much thanks to your skillful effort, Baroness VioletBlood."

"Thank you, Your Grace," VioletBlood curtseyed.

"You will be calling me mother soon enough," the Duchess chuckled. "But as for our associate from the Railroad, by summer our Countess will have a railway station in her county seat and a proper one.... So, I dare say that at least one of your missives should not be that bad."

The terrace was large enough to fit all six of us, but even so, I had to maneuver carefully given the massive size of my gown; the accursed bustle alone made me be careful not to bump into the little greenhouse. The things I did for LoveBlood... I was a bit annoyed that while, the others were dressed in elegant and ornamented evening wear, their gowns were nowhere near as... poofy.

Both envelopes bore seals. For the moment, I focused on the one that had an intricate R over a pair of crossed tracks embossed into the crimson wax.

As I reached out to take the letter, Mother reached out to hold my hand for a moment. "No matter your choice, I'll support you in dealing with it."

RedWing had gone to our sister and had a quiet word with ArgentShroud.

I cut the red-trimmed envelope's seal. Inside was a folded letter which, upon opening, revealed a trio of calling cards. I let the obsidian card with its golden R fall to the writing desk untouched. It felt... normal. But despite the lack of any magical signature I could detect, I was as cautious of that card as I was of the one I had received from one of the Imperatrix's Daughters. The other two were plainer affairs and contained actual contact information. One was white with black text bearing a corvid watermark. The other was forest green with a stylized target superimposed over a set of antlers.

Nudging the cards into a pile, I focused on the letter. At first, I thought the machine-precise text came from a typewriter. But then I realized that the neat copperplate did not come from a specialized font-set, but instead was hand-written.

Salutations, Countess.

It was gratifying to work with someone who understands the value, and price, of progress. And you are not one to get into debt incautiously, yes? Congratulations on securing the route for your county; the Railway will be a great boon for Larium.

Great works and momentous meetings lie ahead.

However, if the full and faithful execution of future duties proves too challenging, then do not hesitate to reach out. We have each other's measure, yes? From information to the services of my associates, to the limits of your productive imagination, I can be eminently reasonable.

Ever onward. Ever forward.

-R

Wordlessly, I handed the letter over to my Mother. My Duchess quickly read the short missive and placed the letter back into my hand. "That could be worse."

"I'm not getting in the Lady's debt," I promised grimly, confident in my choice. That track, hah, went nowhere good.

After getting a nod of consent from me, RedWing picked up the letter. "Hopefully, you won't be placed in any situation where she's your only option," the professor said before returning back to me.

"Our sister has other patrons," ArgentShroud countered.

Pressing into the back of my dress, VioletBlood slipped up behind me, leaned forward, and put her chin on my shoulder. "Upside, you could probably hire Miss Crow and Mistress RainsFord without too much worry," the Baroness concluded after reading the letter.

"Both are bonded and certified with several reputable security guilds. With exquisite reputations for discretion and loyalty," Mother remarked.

Of course my Mother would have looked into the Lady's hirelings. And a reputation for loyalty cut both ways, as I know those two were perfectly content to murder people at the Railroad Lady's behest.

As opposed to the brutalization you oversaw? My inner demonic aristocrat purred. Or is your conscience cleared because all the forms of tradition and legal technicalities were observed?

"Hopefully, I won't need to make any deals with her. I will have to keep Alexi informed. As my seneschal, any delays on the railway project will have to be promptly sent to me, or Mother and ArgentShroud if I'm on deployment." I put that letter by the opened envelope and stack of cards and turned to the sealed envelope.

The purple wax bore the intricate falcon over laurel-wreath seal of the Elenese Air Assault and Air Defense Force. This one contained a long letter from General-Lajtant HighTown. The contents were... for lack of a better term... chipper. I did not expect an officer of such renown to devote pages to an almost apologetic gushing about my adventures, garnished with surprisingly friendly overtures. At first, it seemed very un-Elenese, but as I read the letter for a second time, I started noting the seemingly innocent, yet probing, questions.

HighTown would be almost as dangerous at the negotiating table as she was in the sky.

Compared to that perky and pastel minefield, the refreshingly shorter missive from Pukovnik Emilia Armin was straightforward, and I could almost read her own reservations with her new commanding officer.

After reading, and making sure VioletBlood also got a chance to look over the letters, I passed them around. "Their Silvan Latin is good. Not surprising; Armin was quite fluent when we spoke earlier this year."

"The masks like to play up how cultured they are," VioletBlood scoffed. "Of course their words are honeyed."

"Returning the RP faceplates of your lost comrades is quite the bait to any trap," ArgentShroud noted as she sent the letters to Mother. "Will you agree to receive them as guests?"

"I should pass this along to my commanding officer. Quirinus would know how to handle them," I sighed.

"Yes, Artemis is a skilled Tribune," Mother agreed, but there was a caution to her voice. "But this offer was directed at you, Daughter."

Draped over me, VioletBlood easily picked up on my apprehension. No matter how much I tried to calm myself, she knew me too well, and her horns were practically rubbing against mine. "I'm sure my fiancee is not shirking, but we can all agree that she has many duties, and has already been hostess to many notables."

"Such social events are vital for those of our station," the Duchess mildly replied. "You are both very young and have been forced to grow much too fast." Mother finished off her glass in one long gulp. "But that, I suppose, is the curse of this family."

RedWing coughed. "Mother, you're too harsh on yourself."

"We're not going to compare the losses our families have suffered in the Imperatrix's name. Not when the Baroness of Lilla or the last DiamondDust stands before us." SilverFlight held up a hand and gave a respectful bow to VioletBlood and I.

"Daughter, I will not force you to meet with HighTown, but I will recommend that you do. Not just for your unit, but so that you may get the measure of the Ace of the Skies while you are both on the ground."

"Given the Railroad Lady thinks this is a 'momentous meeting', I should take such advice," I admitted, relenting to the inevitable.

"I will give all my advice and what I can to help secure such a meeting," my Duchess promised. "Especially if we have the meeting somewhere neutral. Myr, for example."

I gave a vague nod of agreement; the Andromachin capital was a reasonable place. The smallest Great House was allied with both BlackSky and Elena, making hostile ground for neither party.

"And more secured than our last meeting in Andromache," VioletBlood gently cautioned.

Chuckling, the Duchess of Argenia's eyes hardened. "Oh, most certainty, agreed. We would make proper preparations. And not just getting more support from Imperial authorities."

My tail flicked as her gaze focused on me. Her piercing, possessive attention grew affectionate as more of her emotional output focused on me. It was enough of a clue to indicate what "preparations" she was referring to.

"Adoption? Biological adoption?" I asked.

Nodding, Mother sipped from her glass. "It would give you a measure of further protection, and power," she added, her fangs flashing as she spoke. "I have talked with Sister Clementia and she will agree with your choice in this."

I exhaled. There was logic to Mother's words. Being closer, being changed, by mother would have boons, but it would also come with costs. I immediately went to the logistical one. "Is there even time? I'd have a period of being... younger. I have to return to duty in under a month."

"But you'd be adorable as a broodling," VioletBlood gushed.

Tail curling, I frowned. "Not physically..." My eyes went to Mother, who shook her head with a smile.

And that was the danger. I would be made into her daughter, and SilverFlight and Clementia could shape me as they desired. I would be submitting to their will, totally and completely. It was as much an act of supplication as an Apology. Yes, there were legal protections and my own duties to the Imperatrix could hold my Mothers' hands, but a Duchess had broad powers, especially if she used them deftly.

Mother knowing the truth of my past only reduced my paranoia slightly. Yes, there was no secret to come out, but she could still change me.

That's the point, to be changed. Don't lie to yourself; you want to be a formal, true, daughter. What are you afraid of? It's not losing your humanity; you were born a demon, my inner countess gleefully teased.

"Thank you for the offer," I bowed my horns. "I really appreciate it, but I fear we don't have time for me to be made a broodling then mentally mature back up."

"I understand, and agree. It is not something I would want to rush," my Duchess said as she collected up the correspondence and then went to hug me opposite LoveBlood.

Basking in the contact, I felt that she had accepted my decision and had accepted me.

"Maybe next time we're on leave," VioletBlood offered, still clinging to my shoulder. Somehow, she managed to be able to purr and talk at the same time.

"Just be careful with what you put off, especially in this life," ArgentShroud cautioned.

"But it comes down to priorities. If there's more important things than Mother turning our sister, then she should do that with her limited free time," RedWing countered with a clean logic I could not disagree with.

"You all make good arguments." Smiling, Mother shook her head. "Come, let's go downstairs and rejoin the party at large. Family business can keep for a few more hours. Or at least for the remainder of the year."

After leaving Mother's rooms, we descended the stairs in a stately procession. Holding my arm, VioletBlood preened at being at the head of a stately procession of BlackSkyvian nobility.

My Bloody Baroness was happy to show off. She had not only been engaged to an Imperial Heroine but also had the favor of one of Eastern Province's most powerful aristocrats. The governor had more authority, but her power came from the provincial assembly. And the Duchy of Gauditte to the south by the coast was less powerful than Mother's domain.

As we had to pause to mingle with nearly every step, it took a bit of time to get to the great hall. Though I could hardly begrudge my sisters catching up with their wives and daughters. Especially when we stopped to let Visha rejoin our little group and welcomed her back with mutual hugs.

Flanked by my Vs with my Duchess in front, and sisters behind, we entered the great hall to literal fanfare. Sparing just a momentary glare at Reinhild, I put on a well-practiced smile and waved to guests.

Fortunately, the dramatic moment and any pressure to give a speech was obliterated by the flood of broodlings scrambling into the hall. The young demons streamed past us and went straight to the serving tables.

I was relieved to see that no one was hurt or traumatized; to the contrary, spirits seemed quite high. And given that Reinhild was not stepping up to have a quiet, and private, word with me, I assumed that no one, broodling or livestock, had been injured.

After mingling and getting some food, I met Mother Clementia, complimented her work, and then finally was able to get a word in with Visha.

"Did you get things sorted with your little sister?" I asked as we shared some roast spiced lesser gryphon with vegetables stuffed into pitas.

Visha's tail swished. "I think we've got some ideas for Rita. Flight school was an option, as was a glider club. I also know some VTOL pilots stationed on Amber Island who could talk to her. The question is convincing our parents. But..." she trailed off as she took a bite. "We'll manage, and once I'm gone Ines and Marcella will have to take over."

Feeling her emotional doldrums, I took her hand. "I know what it's like to go onto deployment and leave your family behind."

"We'll all manage," VioletBlood said as she slipped up to us. "I can write too if it helps. Give your sister another experienced voice."

I held my tongue; despite the potential dubiousness of her advice, LoveBlood was trying her best.

"How were things with you and your Duchess?" Visha asked.

"I got a couple letters. The Railway lady and General HighTown," I sighed and explained their contents with a shake of my head.

And then, guilt gnawing at me for the omission, I exhaled. "And Mother floated the idea of adopting me."

Visha's eyes widened. She knew I was legally the Duchess's daughter, which left only one other type of adoption. "She'd turn you?"

I nodded.

"And? Will you?" Putting her hand on mine, she shook her head. "No, how does this make you feel?"

Looking into her eyes, I... hesitantly lowered my barriers. "I don't know."

Time passed as we ate and talked, the issue of our respective families loomed large, even though we didn't avoid the topic. Despite the horrors of a few days ago, last month, earlier this year... and much of this life and my previous ones, in this moment, I had peace. Yes, the tranquility was fleeting; soon, aristocratic skullduggery would resume, and I would return to duty with the Imperial Legions.

But trouble could keep for tomorrow. And I had my Vs, my Mothers, and we had many friends and family.

Stepping to the head of the room, Reinhild rang a silver bell that managed to cut through everyone's conversations. "Noble ladies, citizens, guests, may I have a moment of your time. The new year approaches fast. All who wish to view the fireworks may retire to the back of the household in the portico or solarium."

After we refilled our glasses, VioletBlood took my hand and made sure Visha followed. Directing my voluminous gown like some silken and whalebone cattle-catcher, my fiancee used me to bully her way across the manor.

It was all for naught as a pair of maids in their prim uniforms and fluffy tails had maintained a prime viewing space for the three of us out on the portico.

To not block anyone's view, Lares was sitting on a blanket that had been stretched out on the portico's stone floor. Spotting LoveBlood's antics, he shook his head with an amused smile and was soon nearly buried under a swarm of excited broodlings all scrambling for the best spot to view.

Walking out in the cool night with a long coat, Gibbs strutted about with the bearing of a mistress of ceremonies. A couple of older broodlings were firing off the occasional Congrette Rocket, which burst in sparkles that swam around the night sky like butterflies.

The vast number of swirling Zephyr grew in excitement with all the aerial displays and the anticipation of the crowd. It grew as the head Ritualista took out a pocket watch and, with deliberate steps, made her way to the array of over a dozen three inch mortar tubes that had patiently waited for this moment.

The crowd hushed as Gibbs held the watch in one hand and pressed thumb to forefinger with the other. The seconds passed as she bent down and, with a snap of her fingers, summoned a thin blue flame. She checked to make sure everyone was at a safe distance.

Fire sputtered and sparked as the braided fuse snaking out of the mortar battery began to burn down. Satisfied that it had caught, Gibbs stepped back and began to count down. "Nine, eight, seven..."

Visha was leaning to my right side, pulling me close, my head not quite on her shoulder. On my left, LoveBlood was close by, her emotions expectant.

Others joined in, until the fuse vanished into the bundle of mortars. Silence fell for a beat as the last moments of the waning year stretched out.

And then there was a ripple of explosions as the mortars launched their payloads into the sky. A set of concussions hit my chest, and I had a moment to gasp before the bursting charges went off, painting the sky in arcs of crackling light, spiraling sparkles, arching streaks, and blooming bursts that shifted in colors that dazzled the eyes.

"Happy New Year!" came dozens of voices, as we welcomed the 433rd year of the Fourth Epoch to Eastern Province.

"To another glorious year together," VioletBlood promised me, a burning look in her green eyes. Flickering pyrotechnics cast dancing lights on lavender skin as expectancy turned to intent. Her hand reached up to my face.

My breath caught.

She firmly grasped my chin and as she closed in, my eyes involuntarily closed.

I barely noticed my tail straightening as she kissed me, a warm shiver burrowing through me from where our lips met, then going from the points of my horns to the tips of my toes. Thoughts scattering, I maintained my composure. Strong arms I instinctively identified as Visha's wrapped around me and held me upright as my knees threatened to fail.

Heat sparked and hissed across my skin from the contact as she tucked her chin to my shoulder, murmuring into my ear. I was almost overwhelmed by the full spectrum of everything I was feeling, my horns buzzing with euphoria and my tail curling around hers.

Held between my partners as I was, I could hardly hear the cheering, applause, and clinks of glassware as those around us brought in the new year.

At least 433 would start on a high note.

End Epilogue
End Book 2


And Book 2 "More than a Shadow" is done!
Don't worry Book 3, "Returning What Was Once Lost" will start before the year is out.

Thanks to all of you readers old and new. Little Demons has been a great project and I'm honored by the continued support and engagement for this niche story. To everyone for reading, enjoying, and commenting, thank you all so much.

For all the omakes, crossovers, and art, for all the editing, lore questions theory crafting, thank you all. This story would not have the continued work and have gotten here and not have the quality it does without the help of all of you here and on the LD discord.

I'd like to give special thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, PonKatt, ScarletFox, and Lisafication for checking and editing this whole work. Specific thanks to Scarlet Fox for epilogue title, Readhead for helping tighten up the interactions and Lisafication for revising the ending kiss to give it more emotional impact.

Book 3 "Returning What Was Once Lost" as 2 draft chapters written and being edited. In other news, the next chapter for Bonding Allure has an outline and is being worked on. And there's also more art for the next book and the like.

Onward and upward!

 

[RogueInquisitor]

Did Lares' suit survive?

Hopefully, staying up so late will leave the broodlings tired and less energetic the next day.

 

[DeusFerreus]

"To another glorious year together," VioletBlood promised her lavender features lit by the pyrotechnics above. Reaching out, she lifted my chin and her green eyes locked onto mine as she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine.

Tail straight, I maintained my composure, though it was good that Visha was there to keep me upright. Purring, I was drawn into the kiss as my horns felt electric with the full spectrum of everything I was feeling. I barely noted the cheering and applause as others celebrated the new year.

"To another glorious year together," VioletBlood promised me, a burning look in her green eyes. Flickering pyrotechnics cast dancing lights on lavender skin as expectancy turned to intent. Her hand reached up to my face.

My breath caught.

She firmly grasped my chin and as she closed in, my eyes involuntarily closed.

I barely noticed my tail straightening as she kissed me, a warm shiver burrowing through me from where our lips met, then going from the points of my horns to the tips of my toes. Thoughts scattering, I maintained my composure. Strong arms I instinctively identified as Visha's wrapped around me and held me upright as my knees threatened to fail.

Click to shrink...

I think you forgot to delete the rough draft/previuos version of these paragraphs, they seem to say the same thing, even of the second go is more intense.

 

[MemeKing]

Is there going to be a time skip for the next book?

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Did Lares' suit survive?

Hopefully, staying up so late will leave the broodlings tired and less energetic the next day.

Click to shrink...

Well... it mostly survived. And yeah the broodlings are probably going to be taking a lot of naps on new year's day. Though finding where they scurried off to to nap may be a challenge.

I think you forgot to delete the rough draft/previuos version of these paragraphs, they seem to say the samething, even of the second go is more intense.

Click to shrink...

oooh good catch! Yeah I accidentally left in the original version. It should be fixed now.

Is there going to be a time skip for the next book?

Click to shrink...

Not much of one, no more than a few months. Though it will happen over a year, but that's not really a time skip.

 

[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 3 : "Returning What Was Once Lost"
Chapter 1: Fungible Assets Part 1

Volantes Centurion Janice BlackStar: 78th Infantry Legion, Epsilon Wing, Third Squadron, Third Flight


Even after two years spent in the service of the Legions, the view of the titanic sprawling base at Colonia Mursam Castramagnus and the surrounding city remained awe inspiring. Under an overcast sky heavy with summer rain, the rows of massive hangars, towering cranes, giant port facilities, seemingly endless depots and barracks, and the stark white stone of the distant base cathedral stood as silent testimonials to the Imperatrix's might. And that was not even counting the towers of the city itself.

It made me yearn to one day visit Diyu proper, to see the City of Trees itself, perhaps in the course of a Triumph, marching behind a Legate newly crowned in glory; perhaps even after earning an honor name of my own.

433 AR was going to be my year, I just knew it!

Born on Oliviania, one of the Three Sisters colony worlds, I was far from a periphery bumpkin fresh off some outpost way past the Ma-Palma Gap or just in from the far Up Spine frontier. Even so, the largest city back home was a far cry from Mursa Victrix City. The sheer sprawl of the place, both outwards and upwards, made it a bit intimidating… but it also provided an absolute wealth of new sights, all eagerly served up for my scanning eyes.

Which was quite the relief. Looking out the window and watching the airship traffic cutting through the cloud cover above us was almost enough of a distraction for me to forget how nervous I was about my new assignment, and nearly blotted out the lurking presence of the centurion from Legion Counter Intelligence and her slim valise.

Nearly being the key word, since I still couldn't quite get her out of the corner of my eye. Admittedly, she made for a fairly striking sight of her own. She was tall, copper-colored, and damp from the brief cloudburst she'd run through when crossing over to this building. I couldn't call her slovenly by any measure, but the noncom's uniform lacked the crispness and sharp creases of my own Legion blacks. Her long uniform overcoat afforded her some gravitas, hinting at secret dossiers or who knew what other military secrets hidden beneath its sodden folds.

That… might have been pushing it a bit far. Not everybody in Intelligence was a complete spook or high-value courier; likely the only thing under that coat was a half-dry uniform.

And… she was looking at me.

Dammit.

I pushed the bronze-skinned woman's bemused gaze out of my mind. Despite the weightiness of the closed case in her hand, the noncom's presence was... reassuring, in a weird sort of way. She was tangible proof that I belonged here, in this unit.

It was not every day that you got an official assignment to meet your hero, after all, and over a week after getting my routing orders, I was still coming to terms that I was on my way to her door. My transfer paperwork and security processing had passed in a blur, helped along by the surprisingly amiable woman standing next to me.

From deeper in the Volantes Legionary admin offices, a blonde woman strode up to me and my temporary minder.

"Volantes Centurion Janice BlackStar?" she asked in a chipper voice. "You're early. You weren't expected until... Oh, wow! Your horns and your wings! No wonder you're a pilot, that's a very striking color."

A bit of vanity bloomed in my chest, and why not? My horns, wings, and tailfins were glossy with an opalescence that was as appealing as it was rare. That, combined with my Legionary Flier pins, made finding suitable companionship at wine bars quite easy.

Despite the excitement, the new arrival's Zephyr engendered in my own air spirits, this woman was not the blonde I had been dreaming of meeting ever since I had seen my first motion picture. Anxiety and relief mixed within me at the postponement of that momentous meeting. Still, the Legion Flier's air spirits brought my own Zephyr out of the lassitude that the LCI woman's spirits had engendered.

"Oh, and you have a friend?" the blonde pilot asked, her eyes falling on the stiff-winged, shaved-headed form of my... companion.

"Ah, you must be Volantes Centurion Lady Melisande," the security woman greeted the noblewoman as her tail swished in amusement as if at some private joke. Almost as an afterthought, she pulled out a badge from a coat pocket. "I am Pilus Posterior Centurion Nomena Nesico from Legion Counter Intelligence."

The silver disk gleamed and flickered in Nesico's hand with violet embers, a perfect match for the witchfire that sprang to coldly burning life along the engraved bands encircling the Centurion's upright horns. Those were all rather hard elements to fake, and also gave her a considerable degree of protection. LCI had a vital, if unglamorous, job, and though compared to other Imperial spooks they were more like skilled tradeswomen than sinister spies or femme fatales, their professional activities were oftentimes equally dangerous.

Lady Melisande's tail stilled, her blue eyes going from the LCI woman to me. I allowed myself a smile as once again, the noble's eyes seemed almost entranced by my horns. I had polished them and my boots to a near mirror shine.

"Uh, yes," I answered, looking her up and down with a tiny pang of jealousy. I quickly made sure I didn't need to salute. The woman's bright eyes caught mine on their journey, sparkling with mirth. I refused to blush.

I had more than unique coloration going for me in the looks department. With my well-formed wings, the forked fins accentuating my slender tail, and my broad set of horns, I knew that I was no slouch; still, this blonde was tough competition. A couple years my senior, she filled out her Legion blacks far more generously than my more willowy form could ever hope to accomplish, and her tail was muscular and lively.

It was hard to be too covetous of her looks, though, thanks to the blonde's warm smile. Besides, the pins and badges of her uniform denoted her as a fellow Volantes Legionary Flier of 78th Infantry Legion, Epsilon Demi-Wing, Third Squadron; my new unit, her unit.

"Lady Melisande, it's a pleasure to meet you," I said, returning the greeting as the cool Legion Counter Intelligence woman opened her valise with a crisp snap. I tried to conceal my disappointment that I had not been welcomed by the Squadron Commander herself. After all, I was patient. I would continue to be patient. I had been patient throughout the years of hard work, striving ever since I was fourteen towards my goal. I had already gotten myself this far, and all without a noble patron.

Tail swishing with a ghost of amusement, Nesico handed the blonde a folder and letter of introduction. "I think you will find everything is in order. We've been trying to get the new transfers verified in one lot to make it easier to stand-up your Wing."

"Thank you!" The blonde said brightly, accepting the paperwork from the Centurion before turning back to me. "You can call me Milly! Welcome to Three-Three: Third Squadron, Third Flight." The perky blonde's smooth accent didn't sound like she was a Diyu native either. My Zephyr swirled around hers as the gamboling air spirits tested each other.

I tried not to be so self-conscious of the polished aristocrat before me; I could hold my own in a beauty contest, after all, and I wouldn't be cowed on a first impression alone. "Thank you, Me- uh Milly," I coughed. "It's a pleasure to meet you." I must be flustered more than I thought, I already said that…

"The pleasure's all mine." Milly turned to the counter intelligence officer. "And thank you for your diligence, Centurion Nesico. Has our new pilot been briefed in?" she asked again in those lilting tones. She definitely didn't hail from any of the Three Sisters or from Mursam, but she lacked the clipped roughness of the periphery.

The bronze-skinned woman gave a slight incline. "My Lady, Centurion BlackStar has been vetted by LCI, but operational read-in is the purview of my sister organization." Her grim expression betrayed just a hint of a cold smile.

That stilled my tail. In the constellation of BlackSkyvian spooks, Legion Counter-Intelligence was the most approachable, deliberately so as the rumor went, as they were the group the rankers generally had the most contact with. Their remit was running backgrounds, validating security, and ensuring that officers, hoof-sloggers, and shippies had not been compromised via blackmail, turning, or other means. I had some paranoid comrades who muttered darkly about LCI being no better than two-faced Elenese Questors or perfidious Alecto's Shore Patrol, but hoof-sloggers always complained.

They honestly were somewhat personable, enough to show some effort was being made. When compared to the Librarians, the ghosts in Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance, or the cold-fish code-breakers of Fleet Signals Office, the LCI ladies were positively chummy. And while I knew my new unit was... colorful, having it all but confirmed was another complication..

Glancing down at me, the LCI woman gave me a look of reassurance.

"I am certain some type of briefing will be arranged for all the new pilots; our mutual associates are many things, but sloppy is not one of them," Nesico soberly stated, then saluted fingers to her neck. "Farewell Centurions. Good luck, BlackStar."

With that farewell, she turned on her hooves and then marched back down the hallway, her wings and long coat billowing behind her.

"At least they're being through," Milly mused before her grin settled back into place. "Well, anyway... Welcome, welcome! I am sorry that neither your Flight Leader or Squadron Commander could come with me to welcome you, but they were unavoidably detained with an extended exercise debrief. Lucia sends her regards."

"And the Countess?" I asked with far too much eagerness. I had to resist hiding behind my shining wings in shame, though my crimson-tipped bangs did threaten to cover my eyes.

Milly's eyes flicked to gaze out the window at the various titanic buildings of the sprawling great base. "Oh, she's got an important conference," she assured with a grin, pointedly neglecting to provide any further details.

In a bid to avoid her bait and any further self-inflicted self-humiliation, I grasped for some other topic of conversation. After a second of flailing, I remembered my previous train of thought, about where such an interestingly refined accent could have come.

"Are you from... Lantia or Emuria perhaps?" I ventured; she was certainly lithe enough to be a moon succubus. Olivania had no moon, but one thing you learned in the Imperial Legions was how to adapt to a new posting. Acclimation sickness was just another challenge.

"I am!" Milly's beaming expression was infectious. "You have a good ear. There are a... couple of us in the Squadron," she added, a cloud passing over her wings. Ah, rumor did have it that her mate had died, hence a slot opening for me.

"What was the training exercise?" I asked, searching for a less fraught topic.

"Second and Fourth Squadrons are getting some upgrades," Milly explained as we proceeded down a corridor, passing a few other pilots and Ritualista. "We're doing some small-scale tests to make sure they won't get into too much trouble with their shiny new suits."

"Those are the Sarpedona fliers?" I asked. There was a fair bit of scuttlebutt around this particular Demi-Wing, needing a quarter of their strength replaced after their inaugural mission would do that. In fairness, half those losses had been medical discharges and transfers.

Milly's smile turned brittle for a moment. "Yes, they had taken some of the heavier losses, especially Second Squad. Our Squadron got off light... all things considered." Her voice cracked at that, and I could feel the pain of loss emanate from her

"I'm sorry for your loss," the familiar condolences slipped past my lips. At least the emotional pulses from my horns showed my sincerity. As such things went, my service in the Legions could have been worse, but I was a Polyxo-rated Legionary Flier on a colonial posting. Deployment and losses were inevitable.

Vivacious grin once more plastered across her face, the blonde nodded and started flipping through the paperwork Nesico had handed her. "Thanks, Hun! It's hard, but IronTalon wouldn't want me to be all mopey all the time."

That all but confirmed the rumors that those two were mates. Relationships were common among the hoof-sloggers and shippies. My new Squadron Commander and her fiancees certainly qualified. And I had been more than willing to snare some Fleet Pilots who had been away from home for the first time and found an exotic colonial with her glossy horns and rough manners irresistible.

But then, tail swishing, Milly beat me to the punch. Glancing at my deployment history, the blonde made an excited noise. "Oh you were stationed at New Lentia? What's it like that far Up Spine?"

"Very scenic, but I didn't spend much time there. It was more of a base of operations for us. All our action was further out on the Dimensional Spine," I diplomatically said as my tail flicked. Up Spine? New Lentia's one of the Three Sisters! It has the third largest offworld base in the empire. And it may beat Nida for the number two spot, I tried not to fume.

That wasn't fair. Milly's tone wasn't patronizing; she just didn't know what it was like out there. Not all aristocrats could be as humble as Sister DiamondDust.

It would be something to finally meet a real Imperial Heroine.

Milly held up a placating hand. "I know, the frontier is what it is, but really, Down Spine has, if anything, the more dangerous borders. Like Nida being on edge of the Empty Quarter."

"And our two colonies on the other side of the Ma-Palma Gap face Luxon, practically all alone," I agreed, willing to be mollified by the blonde's clear attempt to be understanding.

"Urk and Bononia, correct? And the smaller one has Aether Amber... or is it pitchblende?" Milly shrugged.

"Yes, Bononia has amber, but Netali's Folly has a bigger mine," I smugly said, then immediately winced. Those two worlds had the bad luck of being on the wrong side of the gap from the rest of the Imperatrix's colonies, and even I was dismissing them relative to my precious Three Sisters worlds.

Crossing the gap required traveling through worlds so hostile that maintaining the teleport beacons and scrying stations were major hardship postings. Majestic was little more than a planetary dustbowl of a way-station, where Palma was a sulfurous sphere of a border world only a Demon Lord could love.

"You've got a fairly current Polyxo too," Milly noted, thankfully changing the subject and flipping back to the first page of my file. "It won't take many upgrades to get it to Squadron spec."

I shook my head, focusing back on my new companion. "I must warn you that only half of my Ritualista transferred with me. Thank DarkStar I kept my chief Ritualista, but the rest wanted to stay with the 53rd Legion at the New Lentia base. They put down roots, had family... You understand."

"That's the story everywhere. We were a bit lucky when we transferred down from Lantia last year." Milly paused at a closed doorway. "You're not alone. While our Squadron is... was down a pilot, we're also short a few Ritualista, not to mention the rest of the Demi-Wing."

"That's always a challenge," I agreed. It was good to hear a noble pilot care about things like Ritualista. So many spoiled brats assumed their suits would just repair themselves.

"Don't worry, we're on priority for staffing," Milly assured, opening the door. "But anyway... Welcome to Third Squadron!"

I had a moment to fret in disquiet at being part of a "priority" unit. The brass horns never gave priority to a unit without intending to make use of their investment.

But I brushed that concern aside for now, too firmly captured by the present as I was swept into my new unit's offices.

The common room was an open space with a series of desks, two offices to either side, and across from the entryway was a set of doors that led out onto a balcony. The room was filled with the scent of wood-polish, paperwork, fine imported coffee, and incense.

To one side of the door was a small, but very well-appointed shrine. I bowed to the marble statue of DarkStar Avenging. As I rose, I saw Milly make the four-pointed star over her chest, focused on the small silver statue at DarkStar's feet of a Legionary Flier standing next to a motorcycle.

So Milly was a member of our Martyred Lady. Which was fine, the stories said the Countess was accepting of all but the most heretical.

Half a dozen pilots looked up from their work at the desks in the main room. The room was bristling with Zephyr. I was no slouch—I came from a Polyxo-equipped multi-role unit in a major base—but the focused skill of the Zephyr in here still impressed me. It was less the raw power and more the control and restraint the still-playful spirits conveyed. They were excited, but held entirely at the behest of their mistress's wills.

The reality of my new posting hit me as I looked around and realized that this was "just" the rank and file pilots, neither the Flight Leaders nor the Countess herself. The Legionary Fliers, and Fleet Pilots I supposed, at New Lentia were not bad. They were perfectly skilled, even. But the BlackSkyvian military had a lot of pilot slots that needed filling. I'd have to work harder than before to keep up, let alone stand out.

A second blonde, this one also too tall and too old to be the Countess, approached. Her hair was a bright platinum, which contrasted splendidly with her deep lavender skin. In one dexterous hand, she carried a well-worn, hand-crafted mug declaring her to be Diyu's Greatest Mother. Next to her came a flint-eyed, flame-haired and grey skinned woman.

A table by the door, opposite the shrine, bore a thick pile of broadsheets. There was the expected "Mursam Messenger" and "Victrix Voice," the pair representing the local publications and presumably a source of information on events both current and local. A two day old copy of "Silvan Herald" was similarly not a surprise, as news straight from the Imperial Capital was always useful, if only by what was omitted from the public narrative. It was interesting that the Countess paid to have some even older copies of "Bovitar Brief" brought up, but it was not surprising. Many of the DiamondDust Denarius Dreadfuls asserted that most of her Squadron did come from Eastern Province, and the eastern circular implied that there was some truth to at least that part of those tawdry novels. Similarly, the Journal on Air Combat and Legionary Letters were expected, but what did surprise me was a few, also travel aged, editions of the New Van Zandt Courier.

The largest publication of that odd and independent world was known for their equally odd and independent investigative reporting. And far from being decorative, the piles of papers and journals looked well-thumbed, and I spotted a few more on many of the desks. One lithe green-haired pilot was reading an edition of the Courier with keen ruby eyes; its front-page splashed with some sort of giant corn-maze with a positively bacchanalian barbecue at the center. Next to her, her pink-haired probable-wingwoman was reading over her shoulder, a face fresh off Diyu's "classically beautiful aristocrat" factory line forming a prissy pout at the article.

Taking in the room, Milly's eyes shone with delight before she turned back to me. "Ah good! Janice, may I have the pleasure of introducing, Centurion Charity BreezeFlower our Flight's senior pilot, and your new wingwoman, and this is Signifier GreyDawn, the Squadron's and Demi-Wing's senior pilot."

Broader of hip and shoulder than Milly, Charity radiated a maternal no-nonsense. Her eyes were far from unkind, but they did not radiate mirth like the periwinkle gaze of my guide. Similarly, Charity's platinum hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and did not show quite the exquisite level of care that the other blonde put into her tresses.

Only the slight widening of her eyes marked her surprise at my own appearance.

GreyDawn's coloration was a mix of plain grays and vibrant flame reds, oranges, and yellows. However, as fitting a Signifier, she carried herself with an almost aloof level of experience. In a combat Squadron, there were many Legionaries that it was wise to stay in their good graces: the chief Ritualista and Flight and Squadron commanders were the obvious ones, as well as any brass-horns one had the misfortune of catching your eye, but the unit's senior-most pilot was at the top of any such list.

"A pleasure," the Signifier said as she took the folder and letter from Milly. If my shining horns and wings made any impression on her, I couldn't feel it. Her amber eyes scanned the pages as her tail swished thoughtfully. "Centurion BlackStar, I see you went from flying from a Sarpedona to a Polyxo?"

The other pilots in the room looked up at that. Their eyes were wide, and I was almost self-conscious at all the attention. Of the trio of very well-heeled clustered at one table, the pink-haired noble gave an almost predatory sneer.

"Yes, Ma'am. After a... challenging mission, I volunteered for the transfer. Multi-role rated pilots are always in demand. Especially, out on a forward deployment posting." While far from a remote posting, New Lentia was the major Up Spine Fleet and Legion depot for the Empire. Legionaries were always being deployed, especially us high-demand Polyxo pilots.

"It never hurts to sharpen your skills, either, or have more equipment options," I added, deliberately downplaying the challenges of training and qualification. A Signifier, especially in a unit like this, would already be well aware of the difficulties.

Despite our lower population and handicaps in training, pilots from the colonies were over represented in the Fleet and Legions, especially among the Ventus VTOL pilots. Part of it was our grit, relative to pampered nobles on Diyu, but it was also that with our current infrastructure, overland travel was more often via bush plane or blimp than train or turnpike.

"We'll see what you think after your familiarization flight with the Countess," the Signifier gave me a predatory smile. "Reserve member New Lentia's Flying Troupe... Maintained multiple suit ratings... Three Sisters girl I see. Why transfer here?"

"Supporting a Legion is good and all. Plenty of work, even when they don't deploy, but Mursam is more central," I said, trying to conceal the scope of my true reasons. Right here among her pilots, my dreams seemed as silly as a broodling stuck in a tree. Besides, everyone knew about the rivalry between the Imperatrix's colonies. This world may be the largest and most powerful, but the Three Sisters could counterbalance mighty Mursam. Unlike more independent minded places like Freehold, Dyrrachium, or even Tarsus, as major colonies, the Three Sisters were economically useful enough that their independent streak couldn't be quietly ignored; on the other wing, said economic power, population, and the number of Senators did give us some say.

"That it is," GreyDawn agreed, though it was clear she did not quite believe my assertions. "Have you just landed? I know the transit shock can be severe and it takes time to fully acclimate. Even a month later, some of the other girls are still walking off the time and season differences from their leave."

"I'm more surprised by it being summer in Februarius. Where I was posted in New Lentia it was late fall," I said with a practiced laugh. Such things were common in the Legions, especially for us colonials. We use a calendar for a place we had never visited, and doesn't line up on any world but Diyu. It's... spring back home on Olivana.

"Don't forget the gravity. Coming back here from Lantia made me all out of sorts," Milly confided in the air of someone naturally graceful. If I were not a fellow Legionary Flier, I would be more jealous of her preternatural poise, but I knew the secret ways that Zephyr could be oh-so-helpful.

"How about some coffee? Amber tea? Alecton biscuits. The Countess makes sure her foxes import the good stuff," GreyDawn offered.

That gesture did more to relieve my fatigue, apprehension, and discombobulation than a week in the finest wine bars and meat markets.

I had made it past the first gate.

"Yes Signifier, I could go for some tea," I coughed. "I also have some contributions to the Squadron liquor stock. It's not much but my family runs a bit of an... artisanal distillery, and they insisted I stock up when I passed through."

This time, when the too-perfectly-poised cluster of nobles started flicking expressions and mean little emotional pulses, it was the pink-haired one who shut down their gossip with a dark look to her compatriots. But the green-haired one could barely conceal that she was staring at my horns. I subtly tilted my head to give her a better look and made a mental note to give her a bottle of the reserve stock.

"Good, good, you can talk with Miss SunShower later," GreyDawn gestured to a prim vulpine maid who seemingly appeared at my side.

I managed not to jolt, though the kitsune's tails were hypnotic.

"Welcome to the Third." The maid gave me a curtsey while handing over a steaming cup of Amber tea; its saucer adorned with small anise and cinnamon biscuits.

I was not sure how the maid managed to do both things. She must have handed me the refreshments first and then given me a curtsey. I should not have been so shocked. Everyone knew the Jungle Fox had kitsune servants.

Fanciful stories in the Dreadfuls wouldn't fool me; I knew any facts would be exaggerated and mythologized. In particular, I very much doubted that the Countess had rescued a pack of kitsune from vile sky pirates thus earning their eternal loyalty, had won them in a high-stakes Faro tournament her cardsharp wingwoman had drawn her into, or the even more ridiculous story that they were a birthday gift the Bloody Baroness had presented her betrothed. But regardless of how Prefect DiamondDust got them, it was known that she had a number of kitsune in her service.

Recovering, I bowed my horns. Thankfully my Zephyr helped keep me from spilling a drop of tea or a single crumb of biscuit, and kept my hands from trembling. "Thank you Miss SunShower, I'm feeling most welcome."

"Well, wait until you meet the rest," GreyDawn remarked as I followed her attention to the others in the room.

Her gaze was not on the lone pilot with dark purple skin and black hair who was still writing a letter. No, her attention was on the three girls from so-called Noble Flight, the Bloody Baroness's girls.

The pink-haired one, still keeping her tight-laced demeanor, looked away with a sniff, her tail flicking. I was a bit shocked to feel a whiff of jealousy coming from her. Didn't nobles have fancy tutors who taught them how to conceal their emotions? I thought to myself.

An almost imperceptible smirk passed GreyDawn's lips. It nicely threaded the line between enough to put the junior flier in her place but not too much to make her lose face. I could learn a lot from her.

Both pilots and nobles were prickly and prideful creatures.

The grey-skinned Signifier nodded to the lone pilot. "This is Octavia of Flight One, Diamond Flight, my wingwoman and –" GreyDawn gave me a knowing look. "A close friend of the Countess."

"Oh that's an exaggeration," Octavia coughed, showing a remarkably bashful demeanor. Though the way her spirits thrummed with the quiet power of a thunderhead demonstrated her credentials and proved she belonged here as much as any other.

"Nonsense, you've been with us before there was even a Squadron. Before Primus Centurion Shadow even," GreyDawn added. Her attention was pointedly not at the table of the baroness's noble pilots, but her barb did hit the two blondes in my new Flight.

And while Octavia's purple eyes flashed with pride at that, neither Milly or Charity seemed to take offense.

"Don't mind her fussing over her letter; Octavia's got reason to be distracted! Her wife just confirmed she's pregnant, and there's a lot to do!" Milly happily explained, earning a mildly chiding look from GreyDawn in the process.

"When's the celebration? Have you set a date for an Immersion? There are some lovely cathedrals on Mursam," I said, eager to add my contribution to a conversation not directly revolving around work. Besides, my questions weren't solely based around trying to ingratiate myself; these were important things to consider! Most sects of the DarkStar Church had a baptismal ritual of some sort for newborns. It was to show that the broodling was immersed in DarkStar's love and protection and the community of the church. In all sects with such a ritual, it marked a major turning point in the lives of both parents and child.

"Well... the party is one of the things I'm having to schedule but..." Octavia coughed. While she had at least a year or two on me, let alone the Countess or her Bloody Baroness, that still felt a bit young for broodlings. One day, I wanted to be in her position, but I still had plenty of time. "I'm not a member of the church. My family is Baha'i."

"My apologies. No offense was intended." I flushed with embarrassment, feeling like a massive, thoughtless colonial idiot who'd just set a dress boot straight into a mud-choked pothole. "I just didn't expect..."

"Oh, no offense was given," Octavia waved me off with a smile. "The Countess isn't one of those commanders. She's quite accepting of other faiths."

"Despite how she can dress sometimes, our Prefect Centurion isn't actually that much of a fanatic," GreyDawn assured. "Just look past her garb and her Polyxo's ornaments."

My eyes went to Milly. The vivacious blonde laughed. "Yes, she's perfectly accepting of myself and Lucia being of Our Martyred Lady. She's even meeting with some people from our sect today."

"I just... I guess I didn't expect that." I shook my head. What was our squadron commander doing today? "I guess I should be relieved."

"It does mean you don't need to pretend to be pious in order to try and curry her favor, Outlander," the pink-haired noble airily said, full lips twitching upwards in self-assurance. "The Countess values competence above all."

"Which is why she spent a whole semester beating the sneer off your face," GreyDawn stated, skewing the girl with ease. "Janice, please meet Lady Centurion Lavish RoseTalon."

"The Countess is a far more demanding mistress than the pulps make her out to be. I do hope you are up to the challenge," Lady RoseTalon sniffed with all the haughtiness of a soloist ballerina, ignoring GreyDawn's remark with aplomb. She didn't even bother to conceal her disdain, wearing it openly upon her imperious features. Watching her, my tail started to twitch in irritation.

"As the pre-eminent fan girl of our Squadron commander, Lavish speaks from experience," GreyDawn mentioned as she flipped through my dossier. "However, Lavish, Centurion BlackStar does have far more combat experience than you do."

"That's... not very surprising," the bashful green-haired noble next to RoseTalon admitted as she flipped to a new page on a thick set of maintenance logs. "We've only had one combat mission."

"Please Pulivia, Harp's World was a very challenging mission! With multiple phases! We're almost aces already, and the Countess was shot down!" RoseTalon snapped back, immediately on the defensive.

"That does sound like an intense mission," I allowed, carefully stilling my tail. That mission did sound like quite the baptism by fire, but they were still green horns. As nobles they likely had private tutors and an extended time as cadets, which gave them more total flight hours, but I had more combat hours than the younger women.

The Signifier nodded to me. "And this is Lady Pulivia VibrantFang," GreyDawn said, gesturing towards the green-haired aristocrat, who gave a surprisingly shy wave accompanied by a warm smile. "And finally we have Baroness SkySpear, the most level-headed of Noble Flight."

SkySpear was a lavender-skinned woman with grey hair that was shaved short on her right side while pulled into a long ponytail on her left. Her horns had a shine to them that was similar to my own, if more subdued. She bowed to GreyDawn before her amber eyes fell onto Pulivia and RoseTalon. "We won't have any problems that Primus Centurion VioletBlood needs to know about, shall we?"

RoseTalon's aristocratic features went into a pout that made her look far younger. "No, Ma'am."

"You'll still get plenty of glory to make your senatorial mother proud," Milly assured in a tone that was all sweetness but, like a baited hook, concealed barbs for the unwary.

Giving a graceful nod, RoseTalon turned to her fellow noble. "I have started to realize the cost of that particular coin, Lady Melisande." The pink-haired woman gave a tiny sigh. "And perhaps the poor exchange with which it spends."

I raised an eyebrow. The Imperial Legions were nowhere near as cliquish and clubby as the Household Fleet, but nobility, especially landed nobility from the Diyu provinces, still had considerable sway. And such glories were regularly used by the great and good—and their spawn—to advance their positions in whatever courtly games or mercantile skullduggery.

DarkStar's blood, our Countess was an Imperial Heroine with a literal opera to her name! Not to mention all the adventure pulps, comics, and toys. My little sister, Lora, had inherited my set of plush pilot dolls, well, almost all of them. I had collected nearly the whole set, but I couldn't bring all of them to deployment. Limited luggage allotment aside, being seen with that many dolls would get me a... reputation.

As a common colonial, I had enough challenges. However, I still had to bring at least one; my chief Ritualista understood the importance of lucky charms, and as rituals went, it was simple enough.

"Centurion BlackStar, if I may ask, have you seen any interesting action during your service?" RoseTalon asked after taking a moment to actually look at my uniform's ribbons, including the ones for valorous service and a unit citation.

I gave a slight shrug. "There was an anti-piracy patrol on the Outworld to Laiotia circuit. The shippies were short handed and we got pulled into filling their ranks."

"Was this when you were in a Sarpedona?" Bafflement marred RoseTalon's elegant face. "A ground-attack RP is about the most ill-suited suit to run combat air patrol."

The other pilots' emotions swirled with murmurs as they all realized just how short-handed things had to have been at those far Up Spine postings.

"It's not... all that bad," Her companion admitted. Lady Pulivia's nutmeg colored skin nicely contrasted with her green hair, with gleaming red eyes drawing the attention of any onlooker. While her lithe figure and delicate features were not quite my preferred fare, she was far more appealing than her wingwoman, who was too perfectly poised, prissy, and pretty. Still, I knew better than to get involved with the affairs of aristocrats.

If Charity was not so maternal, GreyDawn so intimidating, or Octavia so monogamous, they might have had some appeal, but it was looking like good sense would have me cast my wings beyond my new Squadron. Which was fine.

"Not all that bad? For the escort role, all a Sarpedona has going for it is that it's a suit with some level of scrying, comms and weapons, which can at least go faster than any airship. And fast clippers aside, merchant ships are slow to recharge their runes." I shrugged.

I was not familiar with the ins and outs of ship-board systems like that, but I knew that the charge, target, teleport, and cool down cycle Teleport Runes used was expensive and required a lot of maintainers and artificers. Merchant ships were able to save money by having a simpler and more robust system, but one that took longer to cycle, and was less accurate, even with a beacon to lock onto.

"Most of my experience is flying around convoys of merchant freighters, the mid-size independents. Leviathans and fast clippers tend to be able to afford their own protection," I admitted. "It amounted to a lot of waiting and flying in circles. With two days between teleports, any suit can help fill out the patrol schedule, and stand ready to intercept an attacker."

"And for almost all pirates? That's enough," Charity shrugged as she went to her desk and started going over maintenance reports.

Sipping from my cup, I nodded before having a biscuit. I had to keep my tail from swishing when I noticed that the delicate porcelain bore the squadron's seal. "The pulps exaggerate. Most sky pirates fly old tramp-freighters with clapped-out teleport runes and leaky gasbags. Boarding actions are their main tactic."

Octavia brightened, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Oh, so the pulps got that right?"

"Cutthroats with cutlasses and savages with shotguns?" I laughed. "Pretty much. Few commercial airships can afford to arm themselves. Those that do are too tough of a nut to crack. Have you ever flown escort to a Leviathan class? It's breathtaking to see something that large, twice the size of a battleship, flying."

"I've flown close to a Celestial class," GreyDawn noted.

"Yeah, but that's a warship. Leviathans are civilian, and though they might be half a Celestial's displacement, they make those titanic girls look like ballet dancers by comparison. Without the military demand for expediency, the fastest way to cut costs was to trim down the powertrain and Teleport Runes. They're lumbering behemoths that wallow even in calm skies, but they can carry four thousand tons of cargo, and have space for over two RP squadrons."

"Oh someone did her homework! You'll certainly fit right in here," Milly tittered.

"With that much cargo, I bet any Mater Maximus' owner will actually pay to fill out those RP bays," Charity noted dryly.

I nodded. "The big shipping combines are like that. They and those that can afford it will hire mercenaries, at least for the dangerous routes, especially the long ones going from here, or Diyu, and out to the periphery."

"That does make economic sense," RoseTalon said with the surety of only the nobility, nodding gracefully. "Even for the big shippers, a Leviathan is a major outlay. An asset like that must be put to work to pay for her upkeep. If one is lost... well then, the company would have to go crying to the patrons who underwrote such a venture. And even the most wealthy shipping magnate is loath to go hat-in-hand to the true power brokers in the capital."

I blinked at the noble green-horn shrugging off the hypothetical loss of such a fantastically expensive vessel. Most minor colonies would be visited by a Leviathan or another mass freighter a bare handful of times per year. On the periphery, most trade was done by smaller free-traders, passenger liners, and the rare fast clipper.

"Hence why protecting an 'investment' is key. Best to keep the pirates from ever setting hoof on deck. And those shipping magnates use their close relations to get priority escorts," I explained. For independent traders who might go anywhere on the Spine, having your ship flagged at a non-Great House port had advantages. But for most of the bigger shipping combines, there were more benefits to being... closely aligned to a specific Great House.

"But... boarding?" RoseTalon looked incredulous.

"Even if they had one, they're not gonna waste a torpedo, any torpedo, on an airship. Not if they want to loot it or seize it as a prize. Emphasis on "seize". Boarding has to happen eventually," GreyDawn reminded her.

"Some... a rare few do have a handful of Ritual Plate. Either stolen or taken by a deserter pilot. That's the preferred way to threaten compliance into a merchant captain. Shoot across the bow, then buzz the bridge," I explained.

The Senator's daughter still shook her head. "Pirates actually haul up alongside their victims and just fly across?"

"Most will have a junker VTOL or two drop off the initial raiding team. Then they'll get closer." My grin vanished. I looked into my cup. "Once they seize a ship, things get far more... grim."

The room's levity evaporated.

Even the pampered noble greenhorns of this Squadron knew the savageries of those who lived outside the bounds of any law or civilization. For the blue-bloods, being ransomed back was a best case scenario, which meant they would be kept reasonably intact. Such options didn't exist for general deckhands or colonists.

DarkStar's blood, they looked so young. Their wings looked barely fully grown.

Others would be ravaged, shaped, consumed and, for the unlucky... reforged into new crew.

Airships weren't the only things pirates raided; in some ways, they were more dangerous, if potentially richer targets. An isolated community, especially on a minor colony, was far from any help. But that was why the first thing many settlement civil defense militias spent their limited funds on was surplus anti-air weapons. Small arms, even some crew served, were more of a bring-your-own affair, especially if the homesteader was a termed-out legionary.

I closed my eyes. I had no room to talk. The Three Sisters were civilized and had not been hit by raiders since my mother was a broodling, but it was different out on the periphery. Not that these girls knew that. To them, even Mighty Mursam was the frontier.

GreyDawn had produced a flask. My hands shook a bit as I put my cup and saucer down on the edge of a desk and let it find its way into my grasp. I took a swig of surprisingly good fleet gin and gave her a nod in gratitude.

"You can all guess why, despite having suits that weren't fit for purpose, we didn't object to doing our part for the anti-piracy patrols. Besides-" I took another pull from the flask. "Our Sarpedona suits came in mighty handy when the shippies finally found the pirate base on Agra and we were sent in to burn out the entire nest."

I handed the gin back to GreyDawn, who had a discreet nip before hiding it in her tunic. "You got the first of your air-to-air kills on that mission?" the Signifier asked, flipping through the paperwork.

"Their base had some air defenses, and the Sarpedona is effective against other ground attack Ritual Plate trainers or cheap exports like the Alecton Archer." I tried to keep a casual tone.

The punitive raid on Agra, specifically the low-speed, high turning, knife-fight range fur-ball over that cold black sand, convinced me to push to get my multi-role certification.

GreyDawn and Charity exchanged a look as I tried to keep my gleaming tail from going stiff. I might have more experience than the prissy noble green-horns, but compared to the Squadron's senior fliers, I was a rookie. By Her Holy Wounds, I had less time in the Legions than the Countess and her betrothed!

"But after you got your Polyxo, your op-tempo shot up." GreyDawn flipped a page. "I didn't even know about this joint operation with New Van Zandt."

"Those wretches have Ritual Plate?" RoseTalon asked, a mix of shock and offence twisting her classically beautiful features into having some character.

"Their world borders Alecton territory," I shrugged.

"Yes, Forlorn Prospect; we've been there," the noble testily replied.

"Small Spine," I gave an amiable smile with just a bit of fang. "I thought the Sarpedona Squadrons were in high demand; transferring into a Polyxo unit made me realize just how much free time I had."

"Hopefully, we won't burn you out quite so much," a cheerful voice said in an exotic accent, as two more pilots burst into the room. Recognizing the boards and marks on their uniforms, I quickly saluted the new arrivals. "We have returned and have learned much from our debrief! The enchantments our boffins have unleashed, directed by our razor-sharp training, will send many of our enemies to dance with the angels!

Neither were my immediate superior, but these two Primus Centurions were in command of the other two Flights, and were the betrothed of the Countess.

The taller was Primus Centurion Victorious Shadow, a brunette who radiated warmth but with a glimmer of calculation in those blue eyes. Her red wings fluttered, billowed by an impressive set of Zephyr. A delicious smell came from the basket she carried with two arms.

Beside her was the refined form of the Baroness of Lilla Primus Centurion VioletBlood. Luxurious crimson curls framed her face, and her green eyes shone with an intensity and focus that put the other aristocrats in the room to shame. Despite lacking any great height, she stood above them. If this were a ballet troupe instead of a combat Squadron, she would have been one of the principals, a fitting companion for the Countess.

"We have returned in triumph!" the Baroness boldly declared.

"Ma'ams, may I introduce you to Volantes Centurion Janice BlackStar," Milly happily said. "Legion Counter Intel handed her over, but she hasn't gotten her briefing by the other spooks."

Baroness VioletBlood strode up to me with a haughty smirk. Green eyes gleaming, bright she studied me from heel to horn. She stopped just a few inches from me, dominating my personal space. Despite being just hair shorter than me, she managed to loom, casting a deep shadow. More even than the Countess, the Bloody Baroness was the storybook ace aristocratic pilot; a sword-noble brimming with passion, striding with well-earned tail-sure confidence. "Well, BlackStar, I hope you're willing to dive in tail first," she declared, daring me to rise to hers, and the Countess's, standards.

More than her noble subordinates, the redhead seemed painfully young, especially for one of her rank and extensive experience. She should still be a cadet, or maybe a rookie pilot, not an officer well into her third, or even fourth, major deployment! I thought, but despite myself, I was drawn to her manic charisma.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm ready to do my bit," I promised, looking between the two and trying to contain my budding exuberance.

"LoveBlood, don't scare her," Primus Centurion Victorious Shadow chided as she approached from behind the Baroness's shoulder. Centurion Shadow did not even raise her voice, but the mildest of rebukes silenced the room. A head taller than her fellow Prima with broad, deep red and blue wings, she drew, if anything, more quiet diffidence than her more flamboyant fellow Flight Leader.

A fellow commoner, also from outside the core provinces of the Empire, Centurion Shadow was the Countess's right hand woman, second in command of the whole Squadron. Behind her bright smile, I could feel a genuine warmth, but also an adamantine will. The stories might be mostly hot air, but they were right that this tall woman with her bouncingly playful air spirits would do anything for Prefect DiamondDust.

Signifier GreyDawn bowed her horns, and, showing all deference, the senior pilot passed my paperwork over to Primus Shadow.

It was no wonder that the Countess had picked these two to be at her side.

"My, my, this jewel is eager, and quite accomplished. I almost want her for my flight, but my girls do need special attention," VioletBlood commented as she read through my dossier.

Of her subordinates, SkySpear took the comment with stoicism, while Pulivia seemed a bit hurt, and RoseTalon was affronted.

"Come now, the Flight Leader debrief was very productive," VioletBlood smirked. "Soon we'll have a training regimen to put our Sarpedona pilots, and their new kit, through their paces. We had some good ideas for how to better employ our Istarii in simulations."

That got my attention, and not just because the venerable Sarpedona was my old suit.

"Oh really now? Nice to see everyone getting into the spirit of the Countess's training system," GreyDawn purred with the assured confidence only senior pilots could manage. "I suppose this is a test to see how well we can apply her lessons without her."

"She has many duties," Visha mildly shrugged. "Today is the conference's opening ceremonies."

"And she can't miss that, not when there's a special uniform just for her!" VioletBlood's eyes gleamed with triumph. "And I don't want to miss seeing her in the shrine gown."

The most demure of her three nobles, Lady Pulivia, seemed to perk up at that and focused on the forms before her with renewed vigor, delicate fingers moving quickly in her haste to finish.

I couldn't help but relate, bowing my horns to the Bloody Baroness in agreement, though I had no idea what council the Countess was attending. The thought crossed my mind that the strange events at my last posting could have something to do with it, but I dismissed them. The Church didn't have major conclaves like this often; a statue of DarkStar crying would hardly be worth all the trouble assembling one had to entail.

Frankly, much like Pulivia, I was far more interested in the special uniform Baroness VioletBlood mentioned — my tail lashed back and forth at the thought. I wanted to see it. I caught the green-haired pilot's eye as she worked through the forms and smiled in solidarity. She flushed and looked back down. I was pleased to see my fellow pilots were so respectful; no doubt the Countess's pious nature rubbed off on them.

"But if we don't do our part to make sure Second and Fourth Squadrons are in shape, then the Countess will be displeased. At us," VioletBlood added in a dark tone.

"We'll just have to try our best," Victorious said brightly.

"May I ask where Primus Centurion Lucia Hood is?" I kept my tone respectful. It was strange that everyone was here but my commanding officer and her commander.

"She's talking with the Ritualista," VioletBlood smiled, her teeth gleaming. "In fact... Ah, that's not important. Come, come, eat up!" she said, fangs on full display.

"It's not like we came from the meeting empty handed!" Visha then put the basket down onto an open desk in front of us.

With a flourish fit for the stage, she removed the towel atop the basket and undid the foil tops covering a set of large serving trays. Freed from the confines, the delicious, steamy scent of warm, shredded spiced pork filled the room with a deliciously smoky and succulent smell. For lighter fare, a second dish was crowded with grilled and shredded chicken with diced peppers, garlic, and other vegetables. For easy serving in lieu of utensils, there was a tray of fluffy disks of rye naan, still warm and fresh from the oven.

Despite the obvious eye towards a Legionary's working lunch, the quiet maid sidled next to Victorious with a collection of plates and cutlery. It was a bit overwhelming to be given literal silverware and fine porcelain bearing the Countess's heraldry.

The kitsune also gathered up my tea, leaving the biscuits, and then brought out a pitcher of cold posca. Not that I minded; wine vinegar made water more refreshing, but it was more of a common hoof-slogger's drink.

Though the small pouts on some of my more aristocratic fellow fliers showed the truth of that. Something Baroness VioletBlood noted with great and haughty relish. "Come now, girls! A fine meal such as this is a treat in our Imperatrix's Legions!"

"Unless you want Prefect DiamondDust to get it into her head that you've been having things too easy," Octavia noted as she filled a round of naan with some savory pork, deftly maneuvering it like a pita to contain both meat and dripping grease.

That quieted the room as everyone's tails stilled. VioletBlood's green eyes kept their haughty gleam, but even she coughed. "Yes, well, we do need to keep our edge." She turned to me and showed her fangs. "During morning PT… Just remember that you asked to be here, BlackStar."

"How'd you know that?" I asked, not quite keeping the squawk out of my voice. I had traded a lot of favors, and bottles of family brew, to get this assignment. Though not as much as I thought I would have to. At first I thought it was because I was simply that good of a pilot. Unlike many of these girls who probably had their rich mothers buy them flight lessons and maybe even their own suits, I, a mere colonial commoner, lacked any such advantages and had still managed to get into an advanced multi-role suit this early in my first term.

Now I was wondering if I got this position due entirely to skill or luck, and not that there was something else going on.

"Of course any pilot of note would want to serve with an Imperial Heroine of such renown!" VioletBlood lifted her hand and laughed.

Relief flowed through me. She was right.

"But the training will be tough," Victorious cautioned. "You won't even get light duty for your acclimation period."

"That's a bit rough, isn't it?" Milly shook her head sympathetically, eyes fixed on mine. "I'm still getting used to being back on Mursam myself. You must be reeling!"

"Not to worry, I was no Colonial Air Corps," I assured as I helped myself to some lunch. It wasn't the CAC's fault; most of their fliers were willing enough, but the budget wasn't there for as much training or equipment as the Fleet or Legions could give their pilots. "As I was telling the others before you came in, Ma'am, my previous unit regularly deployed on new worlds, each with different day-lengths, seasons, gravities, and standard pressures."

Most colonies, at least ones of real note, maintained their own local forces, mostly a militia or reserves. They were far less well funded, and far more competitive for the far fewer Ritual Plate slots. This was especially true as militia garrison troops would stay home. But if I stayed on the Three Sisters, I would never get the chance to meet the Countess.

"Centurion BlackStar, I mean no offense. While it is clear that you are a pilot of skill and experience..." RoseTalon paused as she made a small meal from the contents of the trays. "You may not be aware of the intensity of our Countess's methods. She treats combat as a lethal enterprise and demands total dedication and teamwork. Not only for our sake, or the other Squadrons, but for the poor bloody hoof-sloggers."

I was conflicted as I ate the quite delicious meal. On the one wing, it was good to hear such sanity from a too-haughty, too-pretty noble brat, but on the other wing, I wondered how many vinewood rods the Countess had to have broken to get such obedience. Tail twitching, my cheeks flushed as I bit into a particularly flavourful chunk of meat, and I hurriedly drank from my glass to cool down.

Holding a similar, simple glass of posca as if it were the finest fluted crystal, VioletBlood slipped next to me. "Eat up, but don't have too much. Lucia has heard of your arrival and wants to inspect your suit."

I swallowed. "With me in it, Ma'am?"

Green eyes sparkled. "Quite so. I can respect a Primus wanting to personally evaluate the new member to her Flight."

"I'd be happy to go down right now," I nodded to the door, pushing down the nerves her words caused.

"You have time to grab a bite. Then you can go." VioletBlood held up a hand. "Also, we don't have many former Sarpedona pilots. She'll want to pick your brain about this new Sarpedona block upgrade."

"Imperial Blimp and Freight has a new block update?" I asked, calming. This was familiar ground. "What did they change, Ma'am?"

"You can ask Lucia after you eat," VioletBlood waved away. "On the balance, I'd say the new changes are probably for the best... but they still pose a risk to pilots and will continue to do so until everybody refamiliarizes. But she'll want to take your measure as well, if you gather my meaning."

"Simulator or actual flight?" I asked, my heartbeat rising as my gaze drifted to the window. Not that a little rain would keep a real Legionary Flier out of the sky, especially given the rumors about how this unit trained. Would I have to hold my own in a duel, or some other combat test? Such things were irregular, but an Imperial Heroine got a lot of slack on how she ran her unit.

"Simulator. Alas, you'll have to wait until later to take to the air. Maybe you can do that without the Countess." Her grin grew. "But if you impress Lucia, I know the Countess will want to get your measure herself."

"Yes Ma'am!" My tail went still and straight at that. I was, so close.

"Now enjoy your meal and I'll have one of my pilots take you down to RP maintenance bay," VioletBlood offered before turning and giving her subordinates an imperious look. "Pulivia, are you doing anything?"

The green-haired noble's eyes widened. "I was interested in going to the cathedral once I finished this paperwork and catching some of the opening ceremonies."

"I can't fault you for wanting the same thing as I do," VioletBlood huffed, "and the tram ride over there is long enough as it is. Fine, Lavish, you can go help her."

The prim senator's daughter kept in a sigh, but nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Ma'am, if it's no trouble, I can show her the way. I do need to catch up with Lucia, and that way you can all get to the cathedral before it's too late," Milly offered.

"Fine, fine," VioletBlood waved in agreement, seemingly to Victorious's amusement.

"Thank you for helping, I won't keep you long," I bowed my horns to Milly as I worked to finish my meal, thankful that I had not overstuffed the pita with filling. Even in a simulator, excessive maneuvers on a full stomach were not worth the risk.

Not on a day like today.

End Chapter 1 of Book 3

End Chapter 1

Happy Sabers Watch! And welcome to Book 3 "Returning What Was Once Lost"

Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, PonKatt, ScarletFox, and Lisafication for checking and editing this whole work. Specific thanks to Lisafication and Readhead for helping refine Janice's voice.

If you'll bear with me, there's one more chapter of the new pilot's perspective as she gets pulled deeper into Legion politics and ch3 (which is written) will go back to Tauria.

Chapters 2 and 3 "Returning What Was Once Lost" are written and being edited. I hope to post ch 2 around New Years. In other news, the next chapter for Bonding Allure is being worked on.

If you want more Diyu Stories Ellf has a Dresden Files peggy sue fic called Time Slip that is quite good. And finally there will be more art posted over the holiday season

 

[Simonbob]

I wonder how many of the girls saw straight through her?

And demon pirates? Yeah, they're not going to be nice, polite folk. When you can eat others to get more powerful? Nasty bunch, that's for sure.

 

[RogueInquisitor]

So, it looks like Tauria is getting fangirls trying to join her unit. BlackSun may have been the first to actually make it, but I doubt she was the first to try.

 

[moon so bright]

Cute new fangirl pilot! Can't wait to see where things go from here. As much as I love all the stuff from Tauria's perspective, it is nice to see things at a lower level too.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

I wonder how many of the girls saw straight through her?

Click to shrink...

The senior pilots absolutely did. The rookies in VB's Flight? Probably not

And demon pirates? Yeah, they're not going to be nice, polite folk. When you can eat others to get more powerful? Nasty bunch, that's for sure.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, there's a lot of nasty things they can do. And fear for them, regardless of frequency, will be a big influence on the threat assessment and culture out on the colonies, especially minor periphery ones.

So, it looks like Tauria is getting fangirls trying to join her unit. BlackStar may have been the first to actually make it, but I doubt she was the first to try.

Click to shrink...

Indeed! It's arguably if the noble brats counted, but BlackStar is the first to get in who was the fan who joined up because of Tauria. And that she got in, while many others were rejected does say a fair bit.

Cute new fangirl pilot! Can't wait to see where things go from here. As much as I love all the stuff from Tauria's perspective, it is nice to see things at a lower level too.

Click to shrink...

Thanks! And yeah, I figured having a new pov character would be a good way to explore some of that, and work as a bit of a setting/cast reintroduction

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Merry SabersWatch!

As mentioned in the notes to the start of book 3, here's a bunch of fun art to enjoy.

---

First we have "At the Bar" by Lexi-Kimble
From left to right is Lady Adriana "Milly" Melisande, the new girl Janice BlackStar, and Charity BreezeFlower

Fullsize​

---

Next is another trio of pilots, "Demon Girls" by PlayerError404
From left to right is Lady Lavish RoseTalon, Baroness VioletBlood, and Lady Pulivia VibrantFang

Fullsize​

---

This trio is "Winter Date" by Lexi-Kimble
From left to right is: Baroness VioletBlood, Countess Tauria, and Visha.

Fullsize​

---

And the final trio, "Fancy Gowns" by PlayerError404
From left to right is Duchess SilverFlight, Countess Tauria, and Sister Clementia

Fullsize​

---

"Investigation" by Lexi-Kimble
Where the Lady from the Railroad is working closely with Inspector Foch

Fullsize​

---

"Sharp Suits" by Scitty Kitty
has Visha and GreyDawn enjoying some cards

Fullsize​

---

"The Costs of Repair" by Lexi-Kimble is a bit more of a melancholy piece
With Lady Adriana "Milly" Melisande helping IronTalon Cardino repair her motocycle.

Fullsize​

---

Now a bit of a spoiler for an upcoming chapter.
"Returning What's Yours" by PlayerError404
An adaptation of the moment where HighTown returns the lost masks to Tauira

Fullsize​

---

"Upgrades" by Lexi-Kimble
This piece hows some minor design updates to the Svalinna Warding suit and the Occultia Recon Suit.

Fullsize​

Variant with helmets

---

And finally "The New Girl" by PlayerError404
Which has Janice BlackStar finally meeting her dear Imperial heroine.

Fullsize
​

And here's the news years post to go with ch2!

 

[RogueInquisitor]

Now a bit of a spoiler for an upcoming chapter.
"Returning What's Yours" by PlayerError404
An adaptation of the moment where HighTown returns the lost masks to Tauira

Fullsize​

Click to shrink...

Is HighTown supposed to look like a Nanoha expy? And why deliver the masks in a coffin-shaped box? You don't need the extra width. And who designs a coffin to be moved upright with a glass lid?

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Is HighTown supposed to look like a Nanoha expy? And why deliver the masks in a coffin-shaped box? You don't need the extra width. And who designs a coffin to be moved upright with a glass lid?

Click to shrink...

She is! And the answer is "Presentation!" House Elena values masks a lot. So when returning the masks of deceased enemy pilots, they will use a rather over the top case to display the masks. Which both shows the masks are there and not a trick. And the coffin is moved that way (both floating and upright) as a display of power on General HighTown's part. She has such precision with her Air Spirits that she can move a case of that weigh and awkward position as if it's on casters and without gusting around. (All RP Pilots have power with their air spirits, given they can fly with them), but showing that level of exact control and lift is a signal in and of itself. Which Tauria will fret over in ch 3

 

[PaiRho]

look like a Nanoha expy?

Click to shrink...

She doesn't "look" like Nanoha.

 

[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 3 : "Returning What Was Once Lost"
Chapter 2: Fungible Assets Part 2

Volantes Centurion Janice BlackStar: 78th Infantry Legion, Epsilon Wing, Third Squadron, Third Flight


The maintenance bay was comforting in its familiarity. The echo of our boots in the halls of the expansive chamber and the scents of cheap incense, bought in bulk, acrid etching compounds, and spent fuel-cells with their acid tang all tickling my nose, proved that some fundamentals in my life remained unchanged, despite the new world and rarified company.

Not that any such rarification was on display here or now. The Squadron's bay, as it turned out, was only a small segment in a long room held in common by many units, with no special provision made for the Wing's elite status. The ceiling felt lower than it really was, and was nearly claustrophobic with the mass of conduits, lights, overhead cranes, and sprinklers almost pressing down upon our heads. The Countess's banner was painted across one of the bay's otherwise uniform walls, its blue and black background, spread white feathered wings, and gold and red stars a vivid splash against institutional gray.

In contrast to the cramped environs of the RP bays, the VTOL hanger, just visible past a set of rolling doors, looked positively roomy. Understandable, considering how our bay only needed to accommodate person-sized machines, but still, the ceilings could have been a bit higher…

"Here's our Squadron's bay. Fourth Squadron is to the left, and Second is to the right. First Squadron's Harmonia and our Tribune's command element are just past Second," Milly said with bright cheer. I knew she was nobility, but I could only wonder if she was landed like the Countess or her Baroness, or that other baroness? Or was she simply a member of some noble dynasty's cadet branch, or even an elevation endowed to her by a high-class mother, like RoseTalon?

Whichever way she'd ended up with her clear privilege, that she was above me in the pecking order was undeniable, and so I bowed my horns low to her, trying to keep my tail steady as I replied, "Thank you."

Looking up from my bow, I couldn't help casting my eyes over the waiting rows of Polyxo suits. Staring at their silent, eager forms, the reality of my situation started to truly sink in.

Milly was scanning the compartment too, though seemingly without finding whatever it was she was looking for, judging by her perplexed frown. I followed her gaze, trying to figure out what she was looking for. There was no sign of Primus Lucia Hood to be found, but a handful of Ritualista were busy at work. The edges of the room were populated by various machine tools, engravers, and parts lockers all required to keep suits in fighting trim, and all neatly organized without any trace of clutter or disorder. Around one motorized cart in particular, a small cluster of maintainers had formed, all of their attention apparently focused on the familiar drab metal casket carried atop the cart. Included in the huddle were my chief Ritualista, Optio Aemilia Ignatia, and her assistant, Tesserarius VigilantWing.

Rapt with my anticipation, I ignored the maintainers for the moment and walked past them, my feet directed straight towards the rows of arming chairs.

All but two of the reinforced seats were occupied with quiescent suits. Plugs and cables snaked into access hatches as the powerful creations of magical industry slumbered.

I could feel Milly's sorrow as she stared at one of the two empty chairs.

My heart went out to her, but my focus was distracted from her private tragedy. Against my better judgment, I couldn't resist coming to a halt before one maintenance bay and one suit in particular. One that, despite the clamps locked around its limbs and the lack of framing wings, seemed to be soaring the skies. Icons glittered on the greaves, and gauntlets of the brand new Zeta Block suit. A black glossy wimple, matched by a gorget-like latex collar and shiny scapular, framed its skull. A callsign, Diamond, was engraved below the left shoulder in scrolling gold inlay.

What drew me in and left me weak at the knees was the suit's saintly death mask, whose golden inlaid fissures that divided the faceplate into a tryptic, demonstrating how, even if she fell, the Countess could, with devotion and skill, rise anew.

That faceplate had served her since the night over Narvos, where she had earned the Preserver Crown. She had worn that mask on every battlefield since. She bore it from the Vualian civil war to the jungles of Crocelli, and from the City of Trees to the far skies of Harp's World.

I could reach out and touch the mask of Prefect Centurion Lady Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, Countess of Larium County, and novitiate sister of Our Hallowed Lady. I had seen that mask dozens, hundreds of times in comics and books, on dolls and figurines, and even projected larger than life in the cinema.

But those were all pale imitations.

This was the mask of an Imperial Heroine.

To one side there were the sounds of my casket being opened and to the other were the closing, echoes of steel-shod hooves.

"Centurion BlackStar!" Ignatia shouted from beside my open casket. "Ma'am, we'll have your suit ready in a moment." My short-haired, purple-skinned maintainer frowned after a moment, perturbed by my seeming lack of response.

"It's smaller in person," a coy new voice said by my ear.

I turned my aborted jump of surprise into an almost-smooth pivot. Primus Centurion Lucia Hood was not-quite-looming by me. Already a tall woman endowed with a large, double-finned tail and immense wings, her suit enhanced her overwhelming presence even further. An air of casual command, worn for so long that its weight had faded from its mistress's notice, hung around her with equal tangibility as her wary, cautious, almost suspicious Zephyr. Her Polyxo was in the sleek air-superiority configuration, with only its lifted faceplate betraying any touch of the flesh beneath. The flesh in question proved to be yet another set of aristocratic features, as finely carved as any statue and almost feline in its predatory sharpness.

She looked commanding and dashing with her dark hair, piercing purple eyes, and sharp features. Stenciled in deep purple high on the left side of her breastplate was a callsign: Diplomat.

I couldn't imagine that was anything less than some deeply ironic inside joke.

"Ma'am! It's a pleasure to meet you and serve under you!" I babbled while throwing a salute.

Quirking her lip as if in on a private joke, Lucia tapped her neck in return. Her eyes looked me up and down, and not for the first time I was thankful for my exotic beauty being something of an icebreaker.

"It's okay to get a bit star-struck, Janice. But be careful in the Prefect's presence. DiamondDust does not suffer fools," the Primus Centurion said, her Lantian accent similar to Milly's.

"I can manage that," I stated, pulling myself together enough to give her a sober nod. "I earned my place here; Milly has my records."

"Of that I have no doubt." Lucia shared her enigmatic smile with me again.

"Centurion!" Ignatia said to me, her tone urgent. "I tried to stop her, but-"

"Lulu! There you are!" Milly ran over to us, holding a very familiar doll cradled in her arms. Spiky yellow hair and soft white horns adorned the large plush doll's simple, smiling face.

Finding myself cursing my past self's decision-making, I wished I could sink into the floor. I could have brought my doll of the Countess in her armor, or even as a Sister, but instead a poofy pink princess gown covered the doll's stumpy body.

"Some kind of good luck charm?" Lucia asked, trying to keep a straight face, but we could all feel the mirth bubbling behind her calm facade.

"Yes, Ma'am," I lowered my head as my cheeks flushed. "My suit seemed to fly, well... better when the doll was on the arming chair. I got a lot of comments until... well, until I made double ace."

Ignatia had slipped back with the other Ritualista. I couldn't blame her; she had tried to keep the doll from getting grabbed.

She also was busy dealing with a centurion Ritualista. Doubtless the stern raven-haired woman was the maintenance head for the Squadron. She went straight to the casket and was given the maintenance logs before going through a personal inspection.

"Ah, Gibbs," Lucia followed my gaze. "Don't mind her. You'll be okay as long as your suit is up to snuff, with no corners cut. But DarkStar help you if you signed off on any falsified maintenance logs."

"No, Ma'am!" I promised. Thank goodness we had time to properly stow and power down the suit back in New Lentia! I thought to myself. And that I insisted Ignatia get the squawk list down to just the most minor issues, which were all dutifully logged!

We waited and after a few minutes, Gibbs clicked off her pen light, countersigned the maintenance logs, and handed it over with a satisfied grumble and flick of her tail. "I have a list of parts replacements to get the suit to Squadron standard, but for now that Polyxo is acceptable... at least once we get its comms resynced to our network and calibrated for Mursam environmental conditions, Ma'am," the chief Ritualista added after a beat.

"Good work Gibbs. Do we have the parts in stores?" Lucia asked

"Most of them, I'll write a requisition for the scrying system. Gorgon rigs are still hard to get." Still wearing her sour expression, seemingly custom built for the ascetic lines of her thin face, Gibbs reached out and patted the doll Milly still held before turning on her heel and proceeding on through the maintenance bay, off on some inscrutable task.

"Maybe that doll is good luck then," Lucia noted, breaking the ice left by the Ritualista's abrupt departure. "I've known pilots with stranger habits."

"See! It's cute and good luck! Now stop with that serious face," Milly admonished our superior officer in a manner that would be insubordinate if it were not so playful.

Giving a rueful smile, Lucia shook her head. "That's enough teasing our new transfer, Milly." The dark-haired Flight Leader turned to me, her violet eyes dancing with mock sobriety. "You should just be glad she didn't dress you up in anything."

"She still needs to change into her flight-suit and armor," Milly said in a sing-song lilt as she held out two items, the doll and my dossier.

Thankfully, Lucia took the folder.

"There are worse good luck charms than our Countess," Primus Hood said absently as she thumbed through my history. "I see you're willing to learn, and train hard. That is very good."

"I'm willing to put in as much time as it takes," I promised.

"And you will; her standards are quite high." Lucia flipped to a new page. "Almost a year as a Cadet? Impressive."

I nodded with a determined smile. For someone like the nobles of the Baroness's Flight a year as a Cadet was expected. Those slots were competitive, and they went to those who had the most capability, and typically that meant those with a noble patron who could pay for expensive suit time.

However, a colonial, a common colonial had to truly shine. Yes, my family had run a charity auction of some choice cherry-cask aged stock to get me some familiarization training before the cadet exam, but that was hardly a leg up.

Lucia continued to read until her eyes widened a bit. "Well... that's an interesting experience. Something you share with the Countess and our Bloody Baroness."

Ah, so she had gotten to that part of my dossier where I had joined the garrison's ballet troupe. Troupe membership was a way to get more suit time, which sharpened my skills and helped in getting my Polyxo qualification, while also in a small way walking in the Countess's footsteps. But I wasn't good enough to get an active role in the corps de ballet, let alone anything higher. Not when, even in New Lentia I was competing against whelps who, thanks to their noble mothers or patrons, had been flying RP since their adult fangs came in.

Then there were the natural talents, those who flew with more grace than tactical sense. Even the Countess, a soloist in her provincial troupe would be pressed to compete against the highest capital ballet companies, but there was more to flying than pure agility that's why she was the Ballerina Ace commanding a combat Squadron instead of being a permanent part of a troupe.

"It helped me learn the ropes of a multi-role suit, but I didn't have the time to do it full time," I admitted. "If I'd been forced to choose between ballet and keeping a combat role, I would have picked the latter."

Lucia raised an eyebrow at that. I could tell she agreed with the sentiment, but she was wondering whether the roots of the sentiment lay in any actual conviction I harbored or whether I was shaping my answer for my audience.

After all, we both knew that DiamondDust had made exactly that same decision, when presented with that choice.

"I can't fault you for that." Her dark eyes went to the doll that Milly was now smothering with her chest. "Nor that good luck charm either. The Countess is adamant about units making their own luck. But," she added, "through exercises and training."

"But not entirely," Milly teased. "Remember the battlecruiser?"

Lucia raised a pointed eyebrow. "Yes," she drawled. "It is rather hard to forget."

"That was real?" I gasped. It seemed so outlandish that I was certain it had to be a rumor.

"Quite real." Milly's eyes sparkled. "Her prayers summoned the HFV DarkStar herself. And not just in the area, oh no. A whole flotilla appeared right over the VTOL that had picked her up, dozens of miles off-beacon and almost right on top of the Elenese ships that were going to hunt us all down! As soon as she appeared, they all turned and ran."

I blinked and waited for a moment to see if this was a joke or some kind of prank, but Milly was earnest and even Lucia nodded in agreement. "Oh... I didn't know the whole story."

"And even we don't have the full story," Lucia grumbled. "But that battlecruiser stunt and a few other events is why there's a whole Church conference keeping the Countess from training with us. The last few months have had more signs pointing to Her return."

"Is DarkStar..." I couldn't even formulate the question. I'd heard the rumors of that too; Centurions were notorious gossips. It wasn't that I didn't believe, but that it felt way above my station. Serving a saint-in-waiting like the Countess was far more fitting for someone like me. "There was a supposedly miraculous statue at my last posting, but the broadsheets were skeptical if the 'tears' were real or if it was all a hoax."

"I'm the Order of Martyred Lady, we don't put as much stock in signs and portents... well most of us don't," Lucia stated with a slight sniff. "And besides, such things aren't always good. The last time there was a massive surplus of signs, more than now, was right before the Second Great House War."

"Oh." My wings twitched. That was when vile House Torrida and their Sanguinary Pact fell.

Lucia shrugged phlegmatically. "Go and get suited up. Air combat mode."

"You too Milly," she added, flicking her eyes towards the blonde. Her sudden sternness was only slightly undermined by the reassuring emotional ping I felt from my new flight leader. "I know the operators and I'm pretty sure I can slip you into a spare sim. Charity could... no, we don't need a full Flight for this."

It might have been a test. She might have already known all about me, but it's not like undressing in an RP bay was uncommon for a pilot. "Confirm, set suit for simulator mode." I ordered, slipping out of my Legion blacks.

My two Ritualista went to work.

"Your maintainers will have some help today, and I'll send a request to help fill out our personnel allotment." Lucia had returned to my service record with a fresh page. "Ah, you have quite a lot of Sarpedona experience. And in air-to-air? Useful."

"Yes, Ma'am," I agreed as VigilantWing helped me into a flight suit while Ignatia and a couple other Ritualista began unpacking my Polyxo.

Using a hoist, the suit was secured by the mounting points, carefully lifted out of the casket, delicately moved into position, lowered onto the arming chair, clamped into place, and then inspected per the checklist.

"Good, good… So, what do you know about the recent Sarpedona upgrades?" Lucia inquired as Milly also changed her clothes.

"Only that it's a new block," I admitted, adjusting the straps of my flight harness. Suitably dressed, I went and took the checklist from Ignatia and verified the suit's preflight while the Ritualista opened up the armor, exposing the suit's insides. I circled the suit visually confirming, via open access hatches, that relevant telltales were set properly as I went down the list, getting verbal confirmation for each item.

Even with a short-handed maintenance team, there was a reassuring familiarity to be working with my remaining Ritualista.

Lucia watched all this with a ghost of a smile.

"What kind of upgrades?" I asked her before levering myself into the waiting Ritual Plate. "Scrying? Better protection or weapon ranges?"

"Among other things," she answered with a vague, almost dismissive wave. "The Sarpedona Life Extension and Performance Enhancement program standardizes on the Gorgon Rig Mark 2. It also expands the flight envelope, higher cruise velocity and high-speed maneuverability. And the power system upgrades necessary to sustain all that."

I pondered as Ignatia and VigilantWing buttoned up the suit back around my wings and tail before sealing up the leg armor and chest plate. "Huh, there's a few missions I was on Up Spine where that could have been handy. How fast are we talking, Ma'am?"

"Not as quick as a fast-mover RP like this Polyxo mode, a Harmonia, or even a Telephe I suppose but fast enough make mission planning a lot easier. The boffins promise it could take on any RP short of a peer House's air superiority model," Lucia said as she continued to pour over my records.

I glanced over to see that Milly had put the princess doll atop the lid of my suit's casket before going to her own arming chair. She chatted with her Ritualista with an informal ease that was not quite dawdling.

"The boffins say a lotta pretty lines," I opined, dipping into informality as I trotted out a filler line, determined to uphold my side of the conversation, "but who knows what the straight truth actually is, right?"

"Honestly? Think a Polyxo in ground attack mode, maybe a bit faster and more maneuverable, but with the advantage in warding and munitions capacity that the Sarpedona already had. The upgrade package started serial production and is beginning initial deployment. You might have an idea why our Demi-Wing happens to be lucky enough to be at the front of the line," Lucia dryly remarked.

"I just might," I agreed, which was only a mild prevarication at most. "Any true multi-role RP has to compromise something. It'll be poor in at least one role, hideously expensive to buy and fly, or requires swappable modules like our Polyxo.

"And any option will be more costly than a dedicated suit," I added, which was why the Legions had so many Sarpedona. It was a workhorse suit built to kill things on the ground that threatened the common hoof-slogger.

"Hence the idea to give the Sarpedona just a bit more air-to-air. Our enemies have plenty of second-line suits, especially out here," Lucia said, nodding along.

I held my tongue, determined not to give my excitement a voice. It was difficult not to squeal. Mursam is practically Diyu! DarkStar's blood, the base we were in right now was the third largest in the entire empire. And first on that list was the City of Trees itself.

As I allowed my thoughts to run a bit wild, my Ritualista remained busy, adding the mission modules that would set my Polyxo for the air superiority mode. The weapons systems were left off for our training run, simplifying the process somewhat, though those steps were still properly noted in the log.

"Tribune Quirinus insists on making sure we have every edge, and half our Wing's suits are Sarpedona," Milly interjected as she suited up. I had a head start but she wasn't making any effort to catch up. There was no incompetence on her part or any missed steps; the blonde just didn't seem to be pushing herself, presumably because going full-out for a simulator mission was beneath her.

Train as you're going to fight, I thought, with just a trace of irritation. Then, I checked myself. This is an elite unit and I'm the fresh replacement. It's not my place to judge them…

Instead, I focused on completing my suit's startup sequence, ignoring the disquiet fluttering in my gut. I had done this same procedure dozens of times before, and in far worse conditions.

Though never with quite such an important audience before…

At least the countess isn't personally here… I thought to myself. Merely one of her chosen subordinates. No pressure.

My new commander seemed to understand the stakes at play here. Being first in line for the best kit meant we'd have the eyes, horns, and expectations of everybody with a stake in the success of the new gear glued to us. Serious people with serious money at stake would be pouring over all of our after-action reports and performance reviews.

I exhaled and pushed those concerns out with my breath as I focused on my Zephyr, synchronizing them with my suit's power and control systems. In the simulator chamber, they would be hobbled so that required verifying a whole passel of limiters and interlocks.

"Notice anything off? You know the Sarpedona better than either of us, so, please, what is your opinion of the Sarpedona LEaP?" Lucia inquired, seemingly amused by the acronym.

"I would need to read up on the specs and see a suit's actual performance, or at least a simulator. But I can see the potential... and the risk," I allowed.

Lucia's dark eyes glittered with approval. "Oh?"

I was on firmer ground at this part of the informal exam. "Cost savings. The Legions have about seven thousand Sarpedona, keepin' them around longer would save a lot of aurei. And there's another quirk of Ritual Plate procurement."

"Do tell?" Lucia asked, not even disguising her attempts at leading the conversation.

"Well, the shippies have a few more suits than we do," I delicately coughed. That was being polite; the Household Fleet had more than four suits for every one the Imperial Legions had. "But the Sarpedona is the only model that we have more of than they do."

"Yes, the Fleet doesn't do as many ground attack missions as the Legions," Lucia's tone was witheringly wry.

"Right," I exhaled and dove forward. "And while the shippies have a generous budget, it has to be spread among all their giant airships, ivory wing scratchers, fancy bombers, gilt-serving trays, and seven models of Ritual Plate."

Lucia gave an amused nod. "You think they can save some money by not supporting the Sarpedona?"

The Legions are saving a lot of money by letting the shippies pay for upgrading every other RP model, I very much did not say. Instead I shrugged and said. "As you say, ground attack is a more niche role in the Fleet, one where they plan to always have plenty of Harmonia flying combat air patrol. They'd be fine with a more obsolescent suit. If I may ask, Ma'am, who is paying for the LEaP program?"

Her dark eyes glittering, Lucia nodded. "Well-guessed. Legion brass horns want at least a few more years out of our Sarpedona, but they also have all sorts of ground combat golem and armored vehicle projects that are all hungry for money."

"It's a good idea. Some extra speed and performance on those suits would have been very handy for the anti-piracy missions we had been pulled into."

My immediate superior nodded as my Ritualista went through the suit activation sequence and verified the power systems. "I am sensing a 'but' in all that, Centurion BlackStar."

Cradling my helmet, Ignatia approached. Bearing a serene idealization of my likeness, the faceplate's only ornamentation was a single silver four-pointed star on the forehead. I bowed my head forward as she undid the clasps and fixed the helmet into place.

After confirming the connections were good, I activated the suit's display. Various status gauges were projected onto the faceplate's eye lenses as I went through the final checks with my Ritualista.

Nodding in satisfaction, I lifted my faceplate. "Giving a Legionary Flier, especially one who thinks she's queen of ground attack due to low-difficulty runs against irregulars, a suit that can almost fight in an air superiority role could be a recipe for getting tail-sure pilots killed."

As the other Ritualista undid the bolts that secured my suit to the arming chair, Ignatia held out her hand, and by ancient tradition helped me to my feet.

Standing in armored, elevated boots, I took a couple steps away from the chair and did a few stretches checking the joints for range of motion as I acclimated to the suit's power.

Stepping to the side and out of the way, I extended my wings and held them for a moment. Satisfied, I pulled my opalescent wings up and in and walked back to Lucia. It was easy to avoid the "floaty" gait of inexperienced, or vain, pilots and the "stompy" gait of ones trying to look impressive and threatening.

I was a Legionary Flier wearing an advanced multi-role Ritual Plate suit. There was no need for posturing.

"Your fear this shiny upgrade will make Sarpedona pilots overconfident and bite off more than they can chew"? Lucia asked.

"Like with the Elenese Marzanna?" Milly asked as she did a gauntlet and glove check with her own maintenance team. Her head was still bare.

"Something like that," I agreed. The first generation Marzanna was not terrible, but a combination of poor design choices and rarity due to cost resulted in a training doctrine that reinforced the idea that those suits were optimized for duelists, Which if victory in the air was won by noble tournaments of dashing aces in single combat that would have been a decisive advantage. Alas, the rivals of Great House Elena were not so obliging.

Glancing at my doll, I chuckled. Such fanciful stories had been part of what got me to enlist in the first place, but I was just a girl, and quite soon dissuaded from such silly notions. "That's why you're coming up with a training plan for our Sarpedona Squadrons? So they don't learn the wrong things with their shiny new suits?"

Lucia's smile was predatory. "Better they bleed in the simulator."

Nodding, I confirmed that my suit had been set to simulator mode, with the required cutoffs to the propulsion systems.

"You've got some of the Countess's demonstration missions queued up?" Milly asked as she strode up. Now in her suit, her glamorous confidence was enhanced. Her faceplate was down, the ivory death mask in the likeness of some vengeful saint. It seemed an unusually bellicose choice. That is until I noticed the slight upturn to the lips of the mask and the laugh-lines engraved around the eyes.

It was a face for one who laughed into battle.

Tail swishing, Lucia gave a nod. "They're rather diabolical in using the new capabilities to their utmost, but I'm interested in what someone qualified on both a Sarpedona and a Polyxo thinks of the new suits."

I had to contain myself, only a twitch of my wings betraying my excitement. Flying with Countess DiamondDust into battle was a dream practically every flier my age and younger had, but only those who really understood what the Countess was about dreamed of experiencing her training.

"I'm up for the challenge," I promised. As only those who truly understood the Countess, only those who read her journal articles and studied her flight instructor lesson plans, realized just how intense her training could be

Milly could hardly contain her glee, practically flouncing in her gleaming, modern suit. Jealousy flickered past me, but with Centurion Gibbs's promise, soon my Polyxo would be just as filled with shiny new enchantments.

"You think so." Lucia's expression turned downright sinister as her eyes glinted. She then lowered her faceplate revealing a plain, but saintly, visage. The features were idealized and smoothed, and if not for the DarkStar marks at the corner of each eye like silver tears and the almost worshipful cast to the lips, I would have assumed she simply had gotten a factory-fresh mask blank.

She then turned and started to exit the maintenance bay, her hooves ringing on the floor. I was about to lower my own mask and follow when a clear voice cut across the chamber.

"I'm afraid I'll have to cut your training time short, Primus Hood," a clear, commanding voice interrupted. A woman in an exquisite set of black and silver Harmonia armor chased in gold strode in with effortless authority as if she owned the place. Engraved in silver above her chest was the callsign: Quiver.

I saluted and kept my mouth shut.

Her faceplate was up, revealing red skin, sharp amber eyes and a set of merit tattoos upon her cheeks. She was Volantes Tribune Artemis Magnus Quirinus. She was the Countess's commanding officer, and Epsilon Wing was her domain. Her horns curled back in impressive arches and her large crimson wings thrummed with the presence of powerful air spirits. A long red tail with wide fins snaked behind her.

Irritation and frustration roiled off of her. This was a woman looking for an excuse to smash something, and she happened to be ensconced in an advanced air superiority RP.

Standing beside her was a woman with iridescent blue feathered wings that were almost as lovely as my own impressively shiny pair. Her mask, a stern visage of what was probably her own face, was down, but despite my nagging familiarity with that visage, it was her suit that caught my eye.

The rich cobalt blue and golden enchantments of her Sarpedona armor hummed with the power draw of an idled suit. It was a small thing, but due to my own experience with that model, I could tell that it was at a lower frequency than normal. Yes, the scrying systems on the helmet were even more advanced that my own, and the artificer marks on the greaves and vambraces were more modern, but it was the deeper purr of the suit's power systems that truly impressed me. I had spent enough time in Sarpedona to feel how much power an idled suit was capable of, and even at this distance standing around in a bay, it was clear that the new model had significantly increased capacity.

"Of course Ma'am," Lucia also saluted. "How can we serve?"

"That three of you are suited up is most convenient." The Tribune's tail flicked with irritation but she then gave us all a chill smile before turning to her companion. "Fabia, go down to the next bay and see if you can rustle up any of your girls right quick."

The Sarpedona pilot, doubtless the commander of Fourth Squadron, saluted and the missing pieces fell into place. I cursed myself for not seeing it earlier.

DarkStar's Blood, the callsign Burnout is written right there on her armor! This is Prefect Centurion Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang! I thought with glee. She's another Imperial Heroine! A bit before my time, and never as famous as the Countess, but she also became an Imperial Heroine at a young age, and did it with a Sarpedona. Defending colonials in... Vikram?

I tried to remember what else I could recall as I watched her march past us and down to the next maintenance bay. Her dark tail swished behind her with a surprising level of amusement.

Quirinus turned back to us. "This must be the new transfer," she noted after giving me a penetrating look up and down. "Colonial lass, right?"

"Aye," Lucia said, proffering my dossier. "Centurion Janice BlackStar."

The Tribune flipped through my record. Her amber eyes paused midway through. "I can see why DiamondDust approved your transfer."

Heart swelling, I bowed my horns. "Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," I said, being as formally polite as I could to an officer three ranks above me.

"Welcome to Epsilon Wing it is a pleasure to have you," Quirinus said warmly, handing the dossier back to Lucia. Her eyes went to the doll sitting atop the transport casket. "As for how you can serve, I have a rushed mission that came on from down high."

Holding my tongue, I studiously nodded.

"This week Colonia Mursam Castramagnus, via Castra Legate EverTalon, has generously loaned the base cathedral to hosting an inter-sect conference on signs and portents out on the Spine," Quirinus stated with only the barest emotional pulse of sarcasm to counterpoint her sincere-sounding words. She then shook her head. "I shouldn't be surprised that the brass horns can be as much trouble as my associates."

Lucia tilted her helmeted gaze, while Milly was trying to be as unobtrusive as I was. The mention of the Tribune's "associates" made my tail still. The Legion Counter Intelligence officer from earlier had alluded to a "sister organization", and it obviously wouldn't be Fleet Signals. Any Legionary worth their blood sugar would know that didn't bode well.


"Yes, I am aware of a certain battlecruiser as well as other signs. Like a rash of dreams followed by almost contagious dancing in Outworld or a certain, supposedly First Epoch, statue crying scarlet tears in a remote monastery in New Lentia." The Tribune directed that last part at me.

"I had heard about that one at mass and in the broadsheets, Ma'am. And… of a doll of DarkStar that made the pattern of Her return," I admitted.

"The Mother Superior hosting this big conference is a close friend with one of the Senior Tribunes on the Castra Legate's staff and a cousin of the Volantes Legate in charge of all Ritual Plate operations. And today, the Mother Superior asked if some Ritual Plate could be detached for a bit of an airshow to open the ceremonies." Quirinus's tone turned frustrated.

"If she had asked last week, the base's ballet troupe, the Legionary Fliers trained for these exact dog and pony shows could have cut short their airshow tour out on Vikram. If she had asked yesterday, we could have arranged for multiple Squadrons for formation flying with Flights picked from pilots with past experience using troupe glitter dispensers and fireworks mortars. But no, she asked today. And Volantes Legate Heraclius thought it was a lovely idea and she had just the Tribune in mind who could throw something together." The Tribune's voice had cooled as she restrained her simmering frustration.

The officer had let her mask slip but was now all business. The brass horns made a decision, and foolish as it may be, the consequences of leadership rolled downhill.

"Most of the Third is up in our Squadron offices," Lucia offered. "We can fill out a couple more Flights from that."

"I already sent a runner to the offices," Quirinus gave a small, approving smile. "Alas, the Baroness had already left for the cathedral. Her experience with ballet equipment would have been useful, but yes, you will get a few more bodies to fill suits in a few minutes. That plus the dribs and drabs Fabia and my other Squadron Commanders are corralling should make a respectable enough showing."

Tribune Artemis Magnus Quirinus, one of the women who had mentored the Countess herself, fixed her attention on me. "Because our newest pilot is rated on ballet equipment. Someone who can use pyrotechnics without burning down a cathedral full of the great and good."

I was only a reserve troupe member and I've only used those mortars a few times, I thought but swallowed my nervousness or apprehension and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Ma'am. I can't think of a better first mission for the Wing."

Quirinus laughed, clearly not buying my bravado, but letting it stand.

On the one wing, the Tribune was at least explaining why these sudden and questionable orders, on the other wing she was still making us do it. I thought with resignation.

"Ma'am, it is still storming is it not? Has the rain at least eased up?" Lucia delicately asked. "Last I checked with that cloud cover the ceiling is quite low."

"Legate Heraclius was generous enough to assign a pair of Tempestarii to this 'operation'."

"Are they suit rated?" Lucia inquired.

Quirinus shook her head. "No, but I can't blame the Legate for that. Women who can influence weather spirits and personally control Zephyr are rather thin on the ground. Not as rare as pilots who can personally teleport, but close enough for our purposes. Though if DiamondDust had that talent, maybe it would have been Broadcast Recon who would be assigned to do this show."

Lucia nodded along. "What do you want us to get from stores? BlackStar can do the fireworks, and the glitter dispensers are harmless enough, maybe a Squadron's worth of those?"

"That seems suitable." The Tribune turned as a Flight of Sarpedona-suited pilots came up from Fourth Squadron's maintenance bay. She clapped her hands. "Good, good! We can show off the new hardware at least."

"Always good to show the brass horns their money is being well spent," Lucia said before pulling Milly to one side and drafting her orders to get the "munitions" necessary to make a propaganda display.

Quirinus snorted, but pressed her seal the offered memo. Her sigil would be enough to rapidly acquire that esoteric equipment.

Quite excited, Milly practically pranced in her Duralumin heels as she left the maintenance bay, passing some new arrivals from my new Squadron: there were two of the prissy nobles in VioletBlood's flight, and the Signifier and mother-to-be from the Countess's personal flight.

Lucia seemed disquieted by her subordinate's display, likely for good reason. She may have murmured something about ensuring all glitter munitions requisitioned were used, but then Centurion Gibbs appeared.

The chief Ritualista seemed quite amenable to approaching a frustrated Tribune. She saluted Lucia and Quirinus and looked expectant for a moment.

Lucia glanced around the room and saw that in addition to the three new pilots, there were more Ritualista that had been gathered. "Gibbs I'm sure you already know, but we've got a bit of a rush job. I need everyone here suited up, and our suits changed from simulator mode to flight mode. No munitions, but once Melisande returns she'll have ballet equipment that will need to be put on."

"Mortar for BlackStar and glitter dispensers for the rest," Gibbs agreed. "Just let me know who gets what colors. I don't want to spoil the color coordination for the flight choreography."

"I see you have this well in hand, Centurion Hood." Quirinus gave a thin smile before bowing her horns to the Sarpedona pilots filing in from Fourth Squadron's bay. "I do have a plan on our flight plan. We'll get one chance to proxy it at a higher altitude; thank DarkStar we'll have one use for this cloud cover. But I need a headcount of suit types first. I should have one Flight of Harmonia supporting myself, and about four Flights of Sarpedona all together."

"Ma'am, Third Squadron will have six Polyxo. Maybe we should have a pair in each of the three configurations, that would show off the unit's capabilities."

"Yes, that will do nicely, Centurion Hood. Countess DiamondDust may not be here in person, but that doesn't mean her unit shouldn't have a place of honor. Although..." Quirinus's amber gaze fell upon the soft princess doll and she gave a sharp smile.

+++++++

Colonia Mursam Castramagnus lay below me; despite its titanic size, it quickly passed by. The vast collection of barracks, tank farms, hangars, workshops and depots was surrounded by the city of Mursa Victrix. On any other day, it would have been a breathtaking view, but the base, city, and bay were all concealed by a thick layer of low clouds.

Our current altitude had sparser cover with periodic thunderheads rising above the uniform soupy cloud bank underneath. Up here was sunlight, and the clouds were lit up in stark contrast.

Even in weather such as this there were many elements of the Colonial Domitianus Fourth Fleet and the Emurian Fifth Landing Fleet in the skies. The vaults of the heavens seemed to be filled with every airship in the Household Fleet from lumbering battlewagons to sleek destroyers and the innumerable aggressive little corvettes and tiny scouts. Not to mention all the RP and VTOLs on combat air patrol guarding both the ships and the base.

No wonder the shippies of the Household Fleet swaggered with such thick-tailed insufferable confidence. But for us, thanks to the orders of a couple Legates pressuring Mursam's air traffic control, a slice of the sky was ours.

With not even half of her unit Tribune Quirinus had formed her plan and we had taken to the air. Flight Leaders stepped into the place of missing Squadron Commanders and the chain of command compensated with a casual effortlessness that could only be the result of intense training.

I focused on my duty and instruments. The three As were key: airspeed, altitude, attitude, but those were internalized with near automatic control. Precision flying required me to keep exact position with the rest of my new Flight, short-handed as it was.

We had done as much practice as we could. The Tribune was bending the safety rules enough as it was. Personally, I was flying without a survival kit, but if I went down over our own base, needing a sidearm and some extra food would be the least of my concerns.

An extra medical kit might be nice; if I slowed enough before crashing, I thought before clearing my mind and trying to focus.

This was the worst part: waiting for the Tempestarii to do their job.

Drinking from my hydration tube, I checked the status of my mortar launcher. The device was dead simple. The challenge was making sure the ballistics was properly calibrated. Fortunately, Lucia had supported my argument, and Quirinus had allowed me to take a couple test shots. Which gave the others an opportunity to familiarize themselves with the range and bursting size of those charges.

The common channels were free of chatter with Flight Ops giving periodic updates.

"Epsilon Wing, airspeed increasing over target area," the dispatcher's cool void cut in. "Can you verify?"

"I see it!" Milly cried. She was the lowest altitude part of the vanguard formation. "Widdershins swirl. Confirm Flight Ops, aperture is emerging with a break in cloud cover," she said, regaining her comms discipline.

Rolling in a slight bank, I scanned the ground, the synthetic composite of visual and Scrying data showed something like an inverted tornado spiraling out into the sky. As if pressed by great unseen hands, clouds parted in a spiral. Surrounded by something like an eye-wall the sky began to clear around the pale stone of the base's thrusting cathedral. Only the towers and ridges of the rooflines were visible, sticking out of the swirling soup like mountain spines.

"Well, and to think we almost missed this, Lulu," Milly said over the private Flight Channel.

"Hush," Lucia admonished. "The flight arc on our insertion is going to be critical, unless you want to hit the chop?"

"Like the Sarpedona pilots? No thanks," Milly tittered. "You ready, BlackStar?"

"All pilots. All pilots. Execute course change," Quirinus's voice came over the override channel as she gave us all new headings and velocities. "Fabia, WillowBone, take your Squadrons and split for the show of force. Squadrons One and Three, on me."

The Squadron Commanders gave their assents, and as one two dozen Ritual Plate accelerated.

"Well, those upgrades did give the Sarpedona more pep," I said over the private channel. To my surprise the whole formation maintained the same acceleration curves. Yes, both the Harmonia and Polyxo were far from redline acceleration, but it was still a marked improvement for the slower ground attack suits.

"I did say it made mission planning easier," Lucia said as we continued to accelerate, finally leaving the Sarpedona behind as we increased altitude. "Now, keep your horns out of the clouds, and your head in the game."

My scrying feed flaring, the Tempestarii burned more power and the clouds continued to part around the cathedral. Soaring buttresses and stained glass emerged, gleaming wetly in the suddenly bright sun.

The local star, slightly more reddish than I was used to, shone high above. Sunlight streamed down through a hole in the clouds onto the exposed cathedral.

Our arc of ascent took us right over the island of light, and high above we hit our apogee, Quirinus's voice cutting in with three simple words "First, Third: Execute."

Wings straining we all flipped and went into dives with our Zephyr screaming in naked, infectious glee.

We shed altitude at a rate that was technically not excessive. Despite the spinning altimeter and the near vertigo, none of my suit's tell-tales flashed amber, let alone red. We flipped over and went into a stepper dive with a slow corkscrew.

"Third, Release Glitter," Lucia ordered as our formation slipped neatly behind the Tribune's own Harmonia.

Suddenly a rainbow of glitter streams shot out. There was gold, silver, crimson, and Lucia, I noted with some amusement, had bright purple sparkles jetting out behind her.

While I focused on keeping the same position between Lucia and Milly and on the dropping attitude, the other three Polyxo pilots shot ahead to spiral in front of us, their streamers forming dancing braids that flew past my vision.

"Mortar! Mortar! Mortar!" I clearly enunciated over the Wing channel. If this had been a ballet troupe I would not have been quite such a stickler, but around so many pilots unfamiliar with these pyrotechnics caution was vital.

The tubes thumped as I twisted and ripple fired the tubes. As I turned I spotted the two formations of Sarpedona. The more heavily-built-and-warded, low altitude optimized suits were skimming the eye-wall that surrounded the cathedral. Flying up the vertical cloud face, two sets of six Sarpedona were writing circles on the eye-wall itself, their bright red contrails blending with the clouds in their wake.

I had a moment to appreciate the visual splendor and the skilled piloting required to stay just above the wall's sheer layer, too deep and the sharp velocity gradient would bring them crashing down.

Into all this, I had started to lob shells into the air that flew with sparking arcs before blowing up with thundering blooms in bursts of red and purple. I made sure to point the mortar tubes in directions where the Sarpedona had been and not where they were going.

In what was in reality just a bare few moments, my tubes had run dry and I glanced down at the ground which was approaching seemingly far, far too fast. People had come out to watch our display.

"First, Third: break. Break. Break!" Quirinus ordered, her voice only rising slightly at the last work.

Wings twisting and Zephyr screaming with manic delight, we applied the air brakes, flipping so our feet pointed dirt-side, fuel burning down as we all engaged counter-thrust.

All of us, that was to say, save for four Harmonia that had split off, leaving and releasing silver glitter streams heading out to the four compass points, or the four points of DarkStar's sigil.

Beneath Her star, encircled by the Sarpedona, with lingering fireworks falling above and the air thundering in our wake, we made landfall.

Wings extended and spirits straining, I shed airspeed. Keeping my breathing controlled, I knew intellectually, knew from the book, that we had enough time, enough altitude.

Nevertheless, emotionally, part of me expected to see my new Flight-mates splatter onto the stone plaza by the cathedral's north entrance. It had gone from a postage stamp, to a postcard covered in ants, to a whole diorama then in the blink of an eye it was real, and right there-

But I was a Legionary Flier, of the Ballerina Ace's own Squadron. With a gust of wind in all directions, my wings spread fully. I gave a heavy, Zephyr infused flap and for a moment I hung in midair, before dropping the last few inches, my heels hitting the stone.

Thankfully my mask hid my gaping as I looked around, surprised to see a windswept and dust-speckled crowd of notables. Most were nuns, their shiny gowns and wimples a variety of colors showing what had to be all the main denominations of the Church. However there were a lot of clerks, scribes, and officers as well. Almost all, to a woman forgetting the stiff decorum of Diyu-dwellers and Mursanians, were cheering heartily at the display.

A pair of Tempestarii stood with their arms up. Vast air spirits spun around them. Less tangible than Zephyr, the spirits they guided were more like leviathans that could slowly accelerate whole clouds as opposed to quickly accelerating a single person. The two practitioners released their workings and the air shimmered and the eye wall surrounding us began to collapse.

The airborne Sarpedona drew away from the clouds and shifted into a pair of tight formations.

My wings ached, feeling like I had been pulling double patrols for a whole week. I knew the medicos would be inspecting us just as much as the Ritualista would be checking our suits.

Quirinus had endeavored to fall behind us and landed last. The crowd hushed. Walking to the front, the Tribune stood tall in her gleaming armor with six Polyxo behind her in an honor guard. At Lucia's stomp of a hoof, we shifted into a neat file of three by two.

The four Harmonia descended and as one fell into two more rows behind our formation. Removing her helmet, Quirinus bowed her horns and then saluted to a group of women in Legion blacks with the gold braid and scepters of Legates.

As the Tribune tilted her head and saluted, finger to her exposed neck the Sarpedona screamed in and crossed over our heads, each low-flying suit spraying up dust and ground litter while sonic booms overlapped and echoed.

That was one way of demonstrating those suits' upgraded capabilities.

The armored-robed Tempestarii did their best to keep the blowback minimized, reducing the mud and debris. Which was for the best, beyond the high ranking church officials, there were enough brass horns in dress whites and blacks that should not be made too dirty.

The Sarpedona banked and joined into one formation and came in for a far more sedate landing, falling into formation behind us.

As the moment seemed to draw on, Quirinus held her salute.

One of the brass horns, a lithe woman with grey skin, sweeping golden horns and wings, and hard green eyes like cut emeralds wearing the badges of a Volantes Legate returned the salute. "Excellent work, Artemis. Quite the sight!"

The crowd's excitement rekindles into throaty cheers and an emotional wave. Behind my mask, I smiled. Showy flights and acts of heroism were what got me to sign away twenty years of my life to the Imperial Legions. And stranding here among elite Legion Fliers does prove that the propaganda wasn't all lies, I thought.

Quirinus bowed her horns. "It was all the skill of my girls, Ma'am."

The Legate smiled all fangs and nodded to the assembled suits. "I knew I could count on you to put on a show!"

It was impressive that there was no grumbling among the assembled pilots, but that, even on a private channel would have been career suicide. However my attention was on looking for her, looking for the reason I was here.

As we were standing at attention, I could not turn my head, but since we were lined up in front of the crowd I could see most everyone. While Quirinus talked with the brass horns I quickly found the other pilots in my new unit.

Primus Victorious Shadow seemed quite proud of our display. However, Primus Baroness VioletBlood seemed rather put out, jealousy radiating from her face. Clearly, a ballerina and precision flier herself, she wanted to have participated.

Despite finding the Countess's betrothed, there was no sign of the Imperial Heroine herself. Even if I did not have orders, I wanted to find DiamondDust.

"Epsilon Demi-Wing, fall out!" Quirinus shouts in a sharp tone. "Go and have some refreshments or fly back to the barn," she added, giving an almost casual wave of her hand before turning back to the cluster of Legates and began walking with them back to the cathedral.

One advantage of Ritual Plate is that it did make it easier to mingle. As our formation scattered and began to diffuse into the crowd, it began to rain anew.

That was not surprising. Tempestarii could only hold back the weather for so long. I stride forward with the other Polyxo. By unspoken consensus, we pilots hung back to let the other notables get into the cathedral first.

Once past the threshold, I undid the clasps to my helmet and bowed my horns in the direction of the altar. I was far from alone as we all took a moment to enjoy the beauty of the hushed cathedral. Images of DarkStar and Her saints glitter in stained glass and I inhale the scent of fresh incense, much deeper than the bulk product used by the Legions.

Giving me a stern look, Lucia then nodded in approval. "Competently done, BlackStar."

"Oh pish-posh, Lulu!" Milly says with far too much familiarity. "You did great Janice! No go get it out, we'll cover you."

With two of my Flight running interference, I undid some of the latches on my cuirass, hinged open my breastplate, and removed the object that had been crammed into where my survival kit would normally have gone.

All squished and folded up, the princess doll was in a sorry state, but before I could get my armor sealed back up, the plush head had regained its shape and the pink dress was only half wrinkled.

Scanning the interior of the cathedral standing among tall columns, I busily worked at smoothing out the doll's gown and getting the felt horns back into a proper shape. My attention was on spotting a pair of white feathered wings. They were distinctive, relatively rare.

But there were no such wings, at least at first glance. There were just nuns, so many nuns, clad in all sorts of gowns, habits, and more outlandish and restricted clothing. There was the whisper of floor-length hems, the creak of bodices, and the squeak of latex. Many carried banners bearing Her holy likeness, even more swung censers, and there were even a couple mobile shrines that had been set up in niches and alcoves.

However I searched, I did not spot those famous wings. My heart fell.

Was she not here? Did she not see our performance? Did I miss her after all? I glumly thought and then I caught sight of Primuses Shadow and VioletBlood.

They were talking with Fabia HarrowFang. At least I had met one Imperial Heroine today, I thought.

I then caught sight of a nun in the most elaborate gown I had ever seen, moving towards the pair of Flight Leaders with purpose.

She was ensconced in a gown-like ice white and ebony habit covered in silver stars and icons. More than simple embossed medallions, the skirting bore devotional icons in the forms of detailed mosaics on holy placards bearing DarkStar in Her worshipful and imperiled aspects.

I began to realize my mistaken assumptions upon noticing how the nun's wings were secured within black fetters and a shimmering cape. An ornament encrusting the tip of her tail was held high, flanked by a pair of incense burners, and pink flower petals drifted in her wake. It was unclear where they were coming from.

That last part was the strongest evidence this nun was a pilot of some kind. That she was clearly dressed as a living shrine was another piece of the puzzle.

And while her glossy black wimple and matching luminous veil over her mouth covered most of her face, that left a pair of blue eyes, blazing with pious fury. White horns arched back in great curls. That stern gaze was enough to identify her.

After years of reading about her, fantasizing of flying alongside her, of serving with her.... of even just meeting her.. here she was.

Still holding my doll, I found myself drawn to her. Prefect Volantes Centurion Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, Countess of Larium County and Novitiate Sister of Our Hallowed Lady.

A far less elaborately dressed, but just as restrained, Sister of Our Martyred Lady followed in her wake. "If you think that paltry propaganda display will impress any real pilots, you are sorely mistaken," the other nun groused, an Andromachin accent sharpening her vowels.

The Countess paused in her measured stride, turning and staring at her fellow sister.

The Martyred Lady nun's composure could hold out for only a few seconds before she sighed. "Fine, it did show novel capabilities. But I didn't come all the way out to your fancy colony to see you BlackSkyvians bludgeon everyone with your superiority."

The Ballerina Ace shook her head. "No, you came—I'm sorry, you were sent—obviously not out of any ill-favor, but to report on your prophecy," her tone melodic as she spoke with surety.

"No need to be rude." The taller Sister sniffed, far too familiar for matters of such import. "I am holding to our agreement. Besides, my vision is only a small part of the auguries and prophecies being shown at this council."

The countess gave a fierce grin, eyes blazing with fervor. "You need not convince me, Sister."

"I do wish it was held on Portage," the Andromachin gave a bitter laugh. "If only to make sure you don't visit my people's colony world before I did."

Portage was House Andromache's only offworld holding, unless one counted the moon of Lantia, which at least orbited Diyu.

"You jest, I know you are not that petty," the saint-in-waiting serenely replied. "Walk in peace in Her name."

"We both know we'll be carrying Her sword in Her name," her not fully heretical companion replied, making the sign of the star and bowing her head. "Then I will give you my leave and spread the word," she stated, turning on her heel and heading towards a nearby cluster of nuns.

The countess clasped her hands and took a moment of prayer before resuming her walk down the processional...

Which brought her to me.

The Imperial Heroine stopped, her garb's grand icons gleaming in the cathedral's silvery light. Incense coiled around her while pink petals followed in her wake. Both were casual displays of her Zephyr's power. Even with her wings bound up in a display of piety, her spirits exercised exacting control.

Intense, eyes locked onto mine as recognition shone in that calculating gaze. At a loss for words, I should have introduced myself, I should have reported to my commanding officer.

But it was not just the sheer power of her air spirits that held me fast, only Tribune Quirinus as her equal. My heart clenched as the avatar of Our Hallowed Lady's swirling Zephyr seemed to take the measure of mine, only relaxing once the greater spirits seemed satisfied with my own meager capabilities.

I could not speak. Instead, overwhelmed, I stretched out my arms, presenting the princess-gowned DiamondDust doll to her.

She stared.

I withered under the pressure as I felt a perfect note of cold clarity echo deep in my horns. The Countess's control was as flawless, clear, and strong as her namesake

The words spilled from my mouth in a tumbling torrent. "I'm Volantes Centurion Janice BlackStar! It's such an honor to meet you, Ma'am! I've followed your adventures since I was a little girl! Well... not that little... I got my first doll at my fourteenth birthday party! And I did as much as I could to enlist early!"

A hand went out and the Countess squeezed the head of the doll. Her eyes went from me to the doll then back again. "You came today?"

"My transfer came in early, Ma'am, and it sounds like Legion Counter Intelligence expedited things with all us replacements. I know you could have picked someone with more experience, but I won't let you down! I'll do the Imperatrix and the Hallowed Lady proud! I'm so happy for this opportunity to serve under you!" I couldn't help but add in a gushing mess as my tail swished with too much excitement.

I gave her a perfect salute with fingers to my neck. I had studied to make sure what the proper procedure was if I had reported to the Imperial Heroine in her guise as an officer, as a Sister, and as county noble. And some of that had, belatedly, come to mind.

She returned the honors as was proper for a Legionary officer who was conducting duties as a novitiate Sister.

In the distance, over the heroine's shoulder, I could see the other nun watching this with a strange expression. The Martyred Lady nun seemed both amused by her sister's good fortune and also a bit… jealous. Well, it made sense that one from such an aggressive sect would burn hotter.

In the other direction, the three Flight Leaders approached. Baroness VioletBlood's green eyes glowed with mirth as she congratulated a prideful Lucia Hood. Victorious Shadow was radiating sympathy, which I felt very touched by.

"Prefect Countess, I am happy to report that Third Squadron is at full strength," Baroness VioletBlood as she strode forward, every step made with the confidence of a born noble of the sword. Her gaze went to the doll I still held out.

"And she is certainly a bold one," she noted, nodding to Lucia and the Bloody Baroness herself bowed her horns to me.

Green eyes gleaming, she then plucked the doll out of my hands and forced it into her betrothed's. The nun staggered for a moment, but her arms squeezed the soft simulacrum to her bosom with such speed that I could almost believe it was the reaction of panicked shock.

"It is a really good likeness," Victorious Shadow nodded as she went from the doll to the Sister and back again.

"I did insist on a quality product. Broodlings can be very rough on dolls, but I wanted to make sure they would last and be non-toxic. The design was also to be flexible and appeal to a wide range of ages," the Countess said, her voice taking on the air of an instructor.

With a subtle smile, fitting her humility, she patted the doll's head and handed it back to me. It still felt warm from where her gloved hands had held it. I clutched the doll to my breastplate.

The illumination from a nearby window fell upon her as the sun came out for a moment, and the radiant Imperial Heroine paused and looked up at the stained glass, as if beseeching Her for guidance. A silent moment passed as her emotions flared in intensity before calming. Her tail languidly shifted with more incense smoking from the censer. I wondered if she had seen a vision of some kind, but if so the others all took this as normal.

"Primus Hood, I expect you to integrate Centurion BlackStar into your Flight," she stated with the certainty of a divine proclamation. By Her Holy Wounds maybe it was.
"Ma'am," Lucia saluted. "I was planning to have her take a simulator against the new Sarpedona."

"Wise, as she is rated for them."

I couldn't help but smile. Of course the Jungle Fox wouldn't forget a detail like that, not about one of her pilots. And that's who I am now, one of her pilots, I thought with bubbling glee.

"However, I got orders that kept us from the simulator."

"Yes, I saw." Once more the Prefect Countess's full attention fell upon me. "Skillfully done. I will expect all of your flying at that level, Centurion BlackStar. Welcome to Third Squadron."

End Chapter 2 of Book 3`

Happy Sabers Watch! And New Year! And as promised here's the rest of Janice BlackStar's introduction to Third Squadron. And as a bonus, art of the ending meeting is now in the most recent art post.

Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, PonKatt, ScarletFox, and Lisafication for checking and editing this whole work. Specific thanks to Lisafication and Readhead for helping refine Janice's voice and for everyone putting in a lot of work to get this out today.

Chapters 3 "Returning What Was Once Lost" are written and being edited. And the first scene of ch4 is almost done. In other news, the next chapter for Bonding Allure is being worked on.

 

[Simonbob]

The Hero Worship really smashes it's way off the screen in this one!

 

[RogueInquisitor]

Dic Tauria know this one was a fangirl before approving the transfer, or is this a surprise?

 

[MemeKing]

I wonder if Tauria gets envious of all the hyper-feminine woman she is constantly surrounded by.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

She doesn't "look" like Nanoha.

Click to shrink...

Just more towards the end of her plotline

Dic Tauria know this one was a fangirl before approving the transfer, or is this a surprise?

Click to shrink...

She expected a bit of a fangirl, but not this level of.... enthusiasm

I wonder if Tauria gets envious of all the hyper-feminine woman she is constantly surrounded by.

Click to shrink...

Envious in that they like being put in feminine outfits? As Tauria is also regularly dressed up too.

 

[MemeKing]

Envious in that they like being put in feminine outfits? As Tauria is also regularly dressed up too.

Click to shrink...

As in they are not "forced" to dress up in all the poofy and frilly dresses like she is, at least based on the artwork. The others are depicted wearing more modern styled dresses.

 

[DeusFerreus]

the skirting bore deviational icons

Click to shrink...

I'm pretty sure you meant "devotional" here, though since they're succubi lots of devotional icons probably are pretty deviant by human standards.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

As in they are not "forced" to dress up in all the poofy and frilly dresses like she is, at least based on the artwork. The others are depicted wearing more modern styled dresses.

Click to shrink...

Ahh that is true. The others do sometimes wear outfits like ball gowns, but Tauria does seem to be int he more frilly versions. Which is often due to VioletBlood having her fun

I'm pretty sure you meant "devotional" here, though since they're succubi lots of devotional icons probably are pretty deviant by human standards.

Click to shrink...

Oh dang, well good catch! And there is art of her "living shrine" outfit earlier in this thread page.

 

[MemeKing]

Ahh that is true. The others do sometimes wear outfits like ball gowns, but Tauria does seem to be int he more frilly versions. Which is often due to VioletBlood having her fun

Click to shrink...

I guess Tauria will get some more "mature" dresses when she grows up some more, when she has the figure to pull one off. She is going to have a lot of fun teasing her V's like that I think.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

I guess Tauria will get some more "mature" dresses when she grows up some more, when she has the figure to pull one off. She is going to have a lot of fun teasing her V's like that I think.

Click to shrink...

Very likely. Especially given all the people in her life, from her Vs, to her maids, to even Milly who would give her fashion advice.

 

[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 3 : "Returning What Was Once Lost"
Chapter 3: Esprit de Corps

Birds cawed outside the hotel room's windows. Snow-peaked mountains loomed in the distance. It was a lovely view and a nice contrast from the endless prairie surrounding our base in Mursam. Under different circumstances, I would have loved to take my time to fully enjoy it.

Unfortunately, I had not come to sight-see the city of New Ivalo; I was preparing for a summit. It was a social and military obligation I was loath to fulfill but duty demanded my participation, and I would not let down my fellow Legionary Fliers. I inspected the long white skirt and matching top that were my costume for the day with a critical eye, searching for even the smallest crease, smudge, or hair besmirching the garments draped atop a dressmaker's dummy. As far as formal wear went, these were thankfully understated, though if I had to complain, the palette was a bit close to Fleet colors for my taste.

"I suppose they could have picked a worse place for some light inter-house diplomacy," VioletBlood noted as she scanned a map of a lakeside yacht club. It was closed in the off-season; the local great and good who made up the usual clientele had already completed their seasonal move to their ski chalets and winter lodges. "So far as venues go, this one isn't half bad."

As colony worlds went, Portage had a lot going for it. Much of the world enjoyed a reasonable climate and better than average biome. There was a good variety of minerals and other easily extractable resources for local use and for export, including deposits of Aether Amber that could be dredged from a relatively shallow sea, and a moon with Black Salt flats ready for refining. It also benefited mightily from its location.

"One jump from Mursam and one from Diyu. Convenient for us and for them," I agreed, turning from my examination of the dummy to a tacked up map of the Spinal routes. The direct path from Mursam to Diyu, represented by a spindly line connecting those two nodes in the two-dimensional rendering of higher-dimensional space, was a relatively recent discovery. Until a half century ago, the primary route to that critical BlackSkyvian colony world ran directly through Portage. The discovery of the direct route had vastly improved Mursam's security, but arguably the far more significant development had been the reduction in shipping times, especially for Leviathans and other mass freighters.

That proximity made trade with both Diyu, the most populous and industrialized world on the Spine, and Mursam, BlackSky's largest colony extremely easy. Conversely, it also meant invasion from any enemy Great House would also require minimal fleet logistics. Portage was also Andromache's only offworld colony, and thus the smallest of the Great Houses put quite a lot into its defense.

New Ivalo was the fourth largest city on Portage and was relatively remote, being the largest settlement in the planet's western hemisphere. As such it was a key transport hub to Vaponi, the colonial capital. New Ivalo also supported the Andromachin fleet facilities and scrying posts for the better part of a third of the planet.

Which is exactly why this summit has to be some kind of trap, I concluded, quite reasonably. I might not be able to blame Being X for my misfortune anymore, but that doesn't mean my tumultuous life has left my paranoia any less justified!

And yet, no matter how much I stared at the ledgers and maps, they refused to reveal hidden truths of the inevitable betrayal or cataclysm that would occur here to thrust me into peril once more.

"Countess, do you really think you can suss-out Elenese perfidy just by pouring over a map?" VioletBlood asked, her tone teasing but her emotions sincere. She knew I had more expertise in war and trickery.

"Would they even try something, here in New Ivalo? Under a banner of truce?" Visha frowned thoughtfully. "House Elena might full of ruthless backstabbers… but they aren't usually suicidal fanatics." Having fled to BlackSky with her family in the face of Elenese conquest of their lands, she would sooner believe treachery than honesty from them. The question, in her mind, was simply one of practicality and opportunity rather than anything remotely high-minded.

"They'd be more inclined to break guest-right if we were the hosts providing it, but it is unlikely they would offend Andromache so," I conceded. "Diplomatic fallout aside, I doubt Elena brought enough warships to take on the Third Guard Fleet."

"That would be a heavy lift for us too," VioletBlood admitted, her tail swishing thoughtfully. Glancing at a clock, she sighed, went to a set of suitcases and disrobed out of her dressing gown.

Visha tilted her head as she ran the numbers. "The Portage Third Guard Fleet has over half a dozen capital ships, most the smaller of the two sizes. That's only thirty percent of our Colonial Domitianus Fourth Fleet; are you really selling the shippies that short?"

"Ah, but you see, while the Elenese might not be suicidal fanatics, Islander Girl." VioletBlood flashed Visha a fanged grin as she started putting on a strapless dress with a mermaid skirt and green silk that matched her eyes. Though the sequence and frilly decolletage were a bit much "The same can't be said for the Andromache holding their ground."

"Hmm... I suppose you have a point." Visha tapped her lip thoughtfully as she admired the dress. "After all, there is certainly something to be said for the kind of edge a blood drunk berserker can give you in a fight."

For some reason, at that comment, both their eyes flicked to me.

I blinked in confusion. "What?"

That drew a laugh from both of them, which only mystified me further.
"Oh... cruel fate, to contend with such a sharp-tongued, sharp-eyed harpy!" Sighing theatrically, VioletBlood went for a silver and white sundress. "Of course we could crush Andromache!" she grumbled. "They are the weakest Great House... but why would we?"

Taking a moment to admire the cut of the dress, I smiled. Leave it to LoveBlood to pick a nice dress as a back up for an event she wasn't going to be attending. She wouldn't even be wearing it for very long. "Indeed, only the most paranoid Andromachin admirals are worried about having to fight their closest ally and patron."

"Exactly!" VioletBlood smirked as she angled and offered her back to me. "Though they are spending enough to be a real fleet. For their age, those Hongatar battle-carriers are impressive, if inefficient and rather slow."

I stepped over and zipped the dress up, gently adjusting it to ensure it properly lay under her wings and the tail slit was properly positioned.

"They don't have a large enough fleet to specialize their capital ships. Two heavy carriers, a battleship, and a bomber tender split among three stations is just awkward for deployment and maintenance. Besides, they were going to retrofit those ships after buying them from us anyway," Visha shrugged. Wearing a nice charcoal suit, she was already dressed. All she had left to do was put on her trousers' matching pinstripe coat and knot the ribbon tie hanging loosely around her neck and over her bodice.

A smart outfit, and a classic for those not trying to divert attention away from their companions.

My wings twitched at the reminder of Visha's status relative to VioletBlood's and mine. However complimentary they may have been, her sartorial choices had once again left her almost indistinguishable from a valet. While subterfuge was the light artillery in any diplomatic battle — and, DarkStar knows, we had made plenty of shady perpetrations for the negotiations ahead — I felt my wingwoman's servile outfit reflected some other issue.

I was hardly one to talk about issues with dress, of course, but Visha had not been waging a near-hopeless war against the dark forces of too-voluminous frills, overly buoyant skirts, and LoveBlood and my Duchess's desire to see me in both since the age of five.

As far as I knew, at any rate.

I put a pin in my concerns for Visha; that could wait. More relevantly to the matter at hand, she was not wrong about fleet dispositions. Where House BlackSky had half a dozen capital ship classes, House Andromache had a scant two: the aforementioned Hongatar and the smaller similarly hybridized Vellamo. Being fair, the BlackSkyvian Household Fleet was a leviathan compared to its competitors, and being able to field a respectable number of capital ships at all was one of the marks of being a Great House in the first place.

After all, even the mighty BlackSkyvian war machine had to manage on finite resources. With so many colonies, provinces, and bases to defend, the battlecruiser and fleet carriers were the mainstay capital ships in the Household Fleet. It was they who reinforced the vast flotillas of cruisers, destroyers, medium and light carriers, and the swarms of corvettes, patrol craft, and scouts.

In contrast to the common run of patrol craft and interdictors, there were the two dozen heavy carriers, bomber tenders, and battleships of the ready reserve formations. These, the biggest, and slowest, battlewagons, were mostly kept as a mobile strategic reserve, an anvil to the hammer of the faster fleet elements.

"I'm not sure that going from four RP Wings to two in exchange for a hundred and fifty more heavy Torpedoes is a good trade. It's like a Fleet Carrier and a battlecruiser crammed into the same giant hull. Jackie-of-all-trades, mistress of none," VioletBlood sniffed.

"Are you forgetting the trio of bomber squadrons?" I arched a brow at her in anticipation.

LoveBlood smirked, with all the noble arrogance she could bring to bear. "What about them?"

I sighed, having fully expected that response.

"As strike packages go it's a bit awkwardly sized, don't you think?" Visha chimed in. "I mean, I'm sure they're working with the best they have, and as a smaller Great House, they've needed to make compromises, but..."

"But it's still bigger than anything we could bring in today, and it lets them maximize efficiencies of scale and fleet availability," I replied, "They don't need to worry about making the best boat for the job, or that they'd be able to have the boat on station when they need it. Instead, they can just make a 'good enough' and 'bigger good enough' that they can economically produce at scale to do a passable job at everything they'd need them to, without having to worry about setting their budget on fire to do it."

"You mean like how our shippies keep stealing the drake's share of the Imperial budget to get every toy on their birthday list?" my Baroness smirked.

"Yes, like that," I nodded.

"So our shippies would crush them with the power of money, ugh," LoveBlood scoffed. "How Luxon of them, I knew there was a reason I didn't like them."

"And your attitude is why most of their Admiralty is that paranoid," I sighed, and glanced at a ticking wall-clock. "We should probably be going..."

My fiancee huffed, refusing to drop her point. "They also war-gamed fighting the Elenese and Luxon Fleets."

"Which Luxon Fleet?" Visha asked, egging her on and pretending to not notice when I groaned.

"Both sets," VioletBlood rolled her eyes, vexed by the obvious question. "The Andromachin Admiralty assumed the Colonial Armada managed to get a coherent force together. Optimistic, I know. But they also played out if the bulk of the Sentinel High Fleet teleported straight from Diyu to Portage."

"And how did that go?" I asked, genuinely curious despite myself and the ticking clock. Despite both powers bordering our home province, I was not as conversant on Andromachin-Luxon war scenarios as I'd like.

Moving a hatbox back to her luggage, VioletBlood shrugged. "The Armada is fairly well matched against the Third Guard Fleet's light ships and they made a good showing, but the war plan was based on a flawed assumption."

"That Luxon would expose her colonies to attack by gathering all those ships in one spot?"

"Oh no, Countess." VioletBlood waggled a finger and stepped close to me. "I'm sure the nepotism picks and wastrels that the High Lady has placed would be willing to sacrifice their meager, undeveloped colonies for the right price. The problem is getting all of them to agree to go expose their holdings."

"They'd be more afraid of a rival in Luxon taking their lands?" Visha asked, trying to keep back a smile.

Still leaning right over me, VioletBlood gave a shrug as she cupped my chin. "The fever may have broken, but Luxon is still the 'sick lady of Diyu'. Budgetary limitations are a major reason why, outside of two critical, and loyal, capital ship task forces, the Colonial Armada's heaviest ships are oversized cruisers. The High Lady wants a vast number of worlds, but she can't afford to develop or properly defend them."

Tail flicking, I looked up at her shining green eyes. Her passion for this subject was admirable.

"Like a broodling with her hand stuck in the cookie jar," Visha laughed as she too came over to us. "If she just let go she'd be able to get out half the cookies."

"And let Trosier, Irkella, and Elena gobble them up?" VioletBlood smirked, patting me on the head. "And we can't have that can we, Countess?'

I coughed and turned my gaze from my Vs. "So, while the High Lady's Sentinel High Fleet represents a collection of the largest and most modern vessels the shipwrights of the Yomi yards can produce, it is not intended to be a stopgap against mutiny in the Luxon Navy. There are limits to Luxon factionalism."

"No, it's mostly for guarding the Luxon capital of Khemi," VioletBlood agreed, combing her fingers through my wings and adjusting my feathers. "Maybe we should have preened you more this morning…? Ah, I'll drive myself to panic. Besides, your hair is more important."

I waved her off. "Yes, yes, I'm getting dressed."

"Temper, temper, my Diamond!" VioletBlood teased. "We spent... what two months making sure everyone's schedules were free for this event? The Duchess's time alone is quite valuable. We can't miss it because you took too long to get dressed."

"We won't be late because of me. Besides Elena also had time to prepare," I did not huff at my fiancee. "And, while the High Fleet may lack peer experience, they are certainly well-trained." Nor did I change the subject.

"Quite so! The Andromachin admiralty does not dismiss the Sentinel High Fleet as a parade formation. They were worried about the latest Luxon heavies taking out their own battle-carriers," VioletBlood said as she rummaged around for a slim leather case. Opening it, she took out two sets of Legionary hair pins.

"But the High Lady's Sentinel High Fleet is just as anchored in place as the Luxon Colonial Armada then?" I countered, and held still while my fiancee fussed around my hair.

"If you don't stop squirming, I'll get out the brush and then your Preserver Crown," VioletBlood growled as she nearly stuck herself with a ruby-tipped meritorious service pin.

"You said you didn't pack that" I gasped, my tail straightening involuntarily in shock at the betrayal. I glanced at Visha for support but she was pretending not to notice the treachery.

"I lied. Now will you be good? We can talk more about Luxon military dispositions," VioletBlood asked, sweetly offering the carrot as she brandished the remaining hair pins.

Pouting, I nodded.

"Good Countess," LoveBlood purred as she resumed her work. So, is the Sentinel High Fleet actually something worth concerning ourselves with?"

"Well... the last time the former deployed, in force, to the Vualia occupation zone was... five years ago?" I asked, thankful at least that VioletBlood was deft enough with the pins that I had no real reason to fear that I might arrive to the reception with a bleeding scalp.

"Before our adventure there, yes." Finished with me, VioletBlood gave Visha a smug smile next, the requisite pins that would show her rank and honors proffered on her open palm.

"It's not just the big three that Andromache has run war games on?" Visha asked, ignoring the old barb as she slid the silvery pins into her hair above her right ear

"Of course, Ziox is at the top of the list, as well as all the other Great Houses. They're paranoid, not stupid."

"It's hardly paranoia if there really is an overwhelming force waiting in the shadows to crush your dreams at any moment," I added with a roll of my eyes, being quite the authority on the matter. Ziox was certainly no Being X, and was not on House BlackSky's level either, but they were still a Great House and nearly three times Andromache's population and nearly twice their industrial capacity. "The Dictatrix has made it clear that Ziox is destined to conquer Andromache and reclaim their rightful place on Diyu."

"Yes, yes," VioletBlood brushed that aside. "My point is that we are mighty with nearly two dozen colonies compared to Andromache's one." She gestured out the window. "Granted, it is a rather nice colony. And when it comes to fleet defense and perimeter management, having only one colony is an advantage."

I kept in a sigh. LoveBlood had a way to be insulting and complimentary in the same breath. But, she was also correct. As large as a whole world was to defend, it was still much smaller and far more easy to defend than dozens of worlds, not to mention the transit zones necessary to conduct traffic between them.

Visha nodded. "The full might of the Fourth Fleet is rarely put in one place. Even Mursam never has more than a dozen of the capital ships on-world at any given time."

"And most of those are battlecruisers and fleet carriers." VioletBlood looked at a map of the southern continent of the western hemisphere we found ourselves on, before going back to one depicting the city we were staying in. "Yes, the Andromachin fleet is mostly old surplus... that they bought from us, but they have just three theaters to defend."

"Meanwhile, our specialized, multi-mission Fleet would have a hard time mounting an extemporaneous attack on Portage. And their Third Guard Fleet would most likely have more capital ship elements."

"There's flotillas of corvettes backed by destroyers, and their handful of cruiser squadrons are very vicious. Not to mention the wings of bombers, mountains of Torpedoes and entire Ritual Plate Air Groups that could be scattered across the entirety of a planet. Elena would need a major commitment to attack here. Let alone the massive cost of blood if they attempted a landing and tried to hold any territory. Portage has the one thing Andromache doesn't have on Diyu or Lantia: strategic defensive depth."

I smiled at my fiancee. I always loved it when she spoke my language. "Right, more than any other holding, Portage gives space for Andromache to place assets and trade distance and time. It's why they paid Andromache to transport naval assets out here."

It was a bit amusing to think of Leviathan class super-heavy freighter airships transporting small seagoing ships in their entirety. Even some larger ones too, in four thousand ton sections to be assembled on-location. Comedic though the image was, wet navy ships undeniably had greater firepower, damage control capability, and power capacity per ton and cubic foot.

They could also be much cheaper than teleport-capable vessels. Considering how even minor altitude perturbations that were acceptable for an airship going world to world could result in a cruiser abruptly getting reclassified into a submarine, and that was assuming they didn't pull a Kummetz and get stuck on a mountain, such modules were vanishingly rare indeed. But Andromache was willing to accept the strategic mobility limitation to economically add depth to Portage's defensive capabilities.

"And Alecto gets to sell more shipyards to assemble the bloody ships, over here," VioletBlood smirked. "And they too can sell off their older hulls. Everybody wins."

"It is very civilized," I agreed. "And if you're talking about air or sea, corvette squadrons with destroyers or light carriers providing fire-support or extra RP are fast, inexpensive and can be in a lot of places at once."

Sighing, I stripped out of my dressing gown and started putting on the foundation garments and slip that matched today's white outfit. "That's a real threat to any invading scouting elements, freighters, or troopships. Meaning said invader would have to dedicate escorts to well... everything."

VioletBlood smirked. "Less a problem for Elena and Luxon, I suppose, but Ziox would be strained to provide fleet elements in those numbers. Ziox might be able to bring in enough tonnage to threaten the field, but... like I said, those blood-drunk berserkers in the Andromachin Admiralty would love to trade corvettes for capital ships."

I adjusted the pale white slip so that it draped smoothly. Honestly, any naval officer would, in the cold-calculus of war, make that trade. "But that won't happen... unless the big ships are foolish enough to go without escorts."

"Then it'd be like being nibbled to death by ducks!" Laughing, VioletBlood used some scraps of paper, and her Zephyr, to mime swarms of tiny ships attacking a much larger one, in this case a hatbox that she had left on the sideboard.

"Having more scouting elements would allow them to pick the time and place for such a strike," Visha allowed, letting out a distinctly unladylike snort of amusement at the display.

I joined her in laughter as I pulled up the long skirt and then adjusted the top so that the slits in the back could be clasped around my wings, Visha moving behind me to do just that, to LoveBlood's mild jealousy.

"I'm not saying we're safe, but I think we don't need to fear an invasion," VioletBlood said as she swept the scraps to a neat pile, but she still frowned.

"No, the masks won't come in heavy. That's not their style." She traced a finger on the docks to the meeting place. "DarkStar's Blood, Tauria! Now you've got me doing it!"

I accepted the tea that Reinhild handed me as she appeared at my side. "What are your thoughts, Miss SunShower?"

My head maid, and former Auxilia scout took out a marking pen and started annotating the map. "I was only able to spend a brief time with our advanced team, but there are considerable risks. First, do not assume any privacy within the building."

"I figured Elena would plant bugs."

"My Lady, everyone has put in listening devices." The kitsune bowed. "I spotted several rather clever electronic devices, the expected thaumaturgical snoopers, a few scrying runes carved into place, and a group of Andromachin haints that are keeping a close eye on the summit room."

I exhaled. "Our hosts? I suppose I can't blame them for being protective."

"The only thing on our side is the air as it listens to you, my Lady," Reinhild graciously said.

"Given who we're visiting, we can't be sure of that," I said as VioletBlood offered me a shoebox containing a pair of gold-leather heels. A bit of worry crossed her face.

"Indeed, some very forceful Elenese pilots," the maid said in a studiously neutral tone. "Perhaps it would be best to ensure everyone is ready to go down to the motorcar Brabant has waiting without undue delay?" I asked, not thinking about the money my Duchess had spent to help secure this meeting. Transporting a luxury sedan from Diyu was one of the lower end of expenses.

"Good point, no reason to cut things close," I nodded to my maid's not so subtle point.

"Andromache doesn't want to upset Elena, but they wouldn't let themselves be played, not here," Visha said as she gave a map one look before adjusting her own scarlet bustier and pinstripe suit ensemble.

Like their territory on Diyu and their homeland of the moon of Lantia, Andromache guarded their colony world with fanatical enthusiasm. Also unlike their other territories, Portage was not crammed in the center of Diyu's eponymous continent surrounded by other powers, or on a small moon shared with both an assortment of minor Houses and our own settlement and the attached massive Fleet and Legion base. Portage was both Andromache's fallback position and their hopes for future expansion. Their holdings on Lantia and Diyu could fall but, as long as Portage held, Andromache would survive.

No wonder Maaria was jealous that I got to visit before she did.

Ears flicking, the kitsune bowed her head. "Naturally, there are Elenese listening devices, those belonging to our own associates which they have thoughtfully provided for their own reasons, as well as those installed by Luxon and Ziox, of course. Interestingly enough, Alecton has also bugged the venue, presumably just to keep their hand in."

VioletBlood gave an unladylike snort. "Ah, but are those actually the work of perfidious Alecto, or did they simply sell those devices to a Minor House or some other proxy?"

"Depends on the quality," I grumbled, slipping on the shoes. Alecto's mercantilist nature was an asset to the deniability of their operations. "Rumor has it that Alecto uses someone else's arcana when they really want to obfuscate things, though."

"I couldn't say, Ma'am," Reinhild nodded, her tails swishing. "All the other Great House devices could, indeed, have been installed to be found; such subterfuge is the nature of the Great Game."

"I dunno. If a House had access to the best, or even near-best, surveillance assets of their enemies, would using them to spy on this conference be the best use of those assets?" Visha asked as she started to pack up the maps. "Even if the goal is to implicate those enemies as the real spies..."

"Way to undersell our Countess's importance," VioletBlood huffed as she pulled out a rather grandiose beauty kit.

"It's not about that," Visha insisted as VioletBlood unfolded the massive arsenal of torture she called art. " Our Countess is surely important, but… does the importance of this meeting call more for subterfuge, or for actually collecting useful information? If they planted someone else's best, then they care more about hiding their tracks, or even laying a false trail. But if they planted their best, then they care more about ensuring they can retrieve reliable intel from this meeting. Does that make sense, Miss SunShower?"

"A sound argument, Ma'am," Reinhild nodded, her tone noncommittal, but her tails swaying gently.

VioletBlood frowned, humming thoughtfully as she picked the first brush to start with, "Fair enough, I suppose."

I frowned at the bulky box full of powders and tinctures, curlers and wands.

"Oh hush, you need to look your best, and since I won't be there for you today, this is the least I could do." LoveBlood's haughty tone ill-concealed her unease as her eyes drifted between myself and Visha in concern.

"I would bring both of you if I could." My words were true but made for a hollow assurance. While I was passable enough in the languages of our two largest rivals—Mother would accept no less—Visha was fully fluent in Elenese Thokavian. Whereas, given the province we hailed from, VioletBlood had been extensively tutored in Luxon Otic. And the invitation only allowed for a plus one.

Studying my face, and staring into my eyes, my Baroness sniffed once more, regaining the absolute self-assurance she wore as an armored dress. "Remember, Islander Girl, take down our own jammers last when we leave here. I'll try not to delay us too much, but you can't rush art," she said, brandishing brushes and cosmetics as she advanced on me.

+++++++

After enduring an anxious drive, through no fault of our chauffeur, and the rigmarole of security checks, it was almost a relief to finally arrive at the off-season yacht club turned venue for diplomatic liaisons. With Visha at my heel, we entered the silent hall and found it deserted. The chairs had been put up on tables by the staff and hadn't yet been taken down and half of the windows were still shaded. Thick cream-colored carpeting hushed our shoes and textured the dusty silence of the room.

The handful of windows left uncovered at least yielded a rather impressive view of the city's bay, the gentle waves visible through the flakes of a gentle snowfall. New Ivalo had an impressive set of docks for its modest size, and bobbing out at anchor was an Alecton-built patrol craft that looked uncomfortably like the ships we had sunk on Harp's World.

"A coincidence, I assure you," a familiar voice said, her Silvan Latin lightly accented with a touch of elegance.

Turning to follow the sound, I found a woman sitting at the club bar, drink in hand. Meeting my eyes, she raised her half-empty glass in a light-hearted salute. While her blue hair was tied back in an informal ponytail and her glossy blue suit was of a civilian style, something about that combined with her posture nevertheless screamed "Elenese military".

"Ah, Pukovnik Emilia Armin, so lovely to see you in the flesh," I said, pausing only slightly at the sight of her ash-grey feathers and the small secondary pair of horns growing from her forehead. Taken on their own, there was nothing particularly special about those uncommon, but hardly rare traits but...

It was not paranoia to say that multiple messages were being sent here.

Sapphire eyes sparkled behind a slim cobalt-blue domino mask. "It is mutual, Prefect Countess DiamondDust. Though, I do hope you'll forgive me for not listing all your titles."

She wore tall navy-blue gaiters that went to her knees over surprisingly sensible black leather boots. The casual, almost practical, attire stood at odds with the sinister slinky latex confection that I had been expecting in my head. Given our obsession with dramatics, it wasn't often that I met a demon sensible enough to wear something more down to earth, so to speak, when they could be dressed to the nine, or zero, layers instead.

"Don't feel the need to stand on ceremony on my account," I waved her off. "I'm sure you know Primus Centurion Shadow; we all met over Lacus Superum last year."

"Ah, but Countess, we are all alive because we quite pointedly did not meet over that great lake," Pukovnik Armin corrected, taking a sip of the dark liquor. "Shall we congratulate each other? On your promotions and my elevated new assignment? Or," she flashed a smirk, "if that is too convivial, we can posture and hurl invective. I do have some very creative insults as to your House's blundering bellicosity that I would love to try out."

Visha chuckled, half out of politeness, half because LoveBlood had been helping her sharpen her own claws.

"Tempting," I admitted, glancing at Visha as I considered the merits of letting her off the leash. Watching her tear into them would be fun, of that I had no doubt, but we also had business to attend to. "But, as pleasurable as trading barbs is, I fear someone is missing from our little conclave. Where is General-Lajtant HighTown?"

"Escorting the return of what was lost. She'll be here shortly." The Elenese officer idly swirled the drink in her glass as she studied my face. Her spirits swam around her in ordered layers like a school of domesticated sharks, their hunger held back by their mistress' will and the knowledge that blood was the reward for patience and obedience.

The Zephyr around the Pukovnik were not amiable dullards like the common fancy carpet shark and instead were the eager, clever predators of a much larger and more powerful breed, big eyes begging their mistress for food.

The officer gave a smile showing her own set of gleaming teeth. "I'll confess to wanting to see your own mask. I've heard rumors about how it was repaired after... ah, I apologize. Care for a drink? You are guests, after all."

The tension fractionally eased in my tail. Treachery was always a risk, when dealing with Elena, but the cost of such skullduggery had been raised and noted in her slight, almost flippantly off-handed comment.

"What do you have?" Visha asked, entirely unapologetic in accepting hospitality.

"I do apologize for not having anything to eat. I hope you won't think of me as a poor hostess. Now, the bar was cleared for winter, but our hosts did leave a passable dark gin and a local rye whisky." Emilia took a sip from her glass, her grey tail swishing languidly. "Mmm... Notes of rye bread, and just a bit of spice to warm on a snowy winter day."

"That does sound lovely," Visha ventured, glancing at the woman's clothes. "I suppose you're off duty too..."

"So I don't have to worry about being thrown into reeducation for immoral behavior?" Pukovnik Armin's blue lips curled into tight, cold grin. "You do realize we don't have prisons on every street corner."

I held a hand. "No offense was intended."

Behind the mask her eyes gave an equally chill amusement. "Ah, do not worry Countess. No offense was taken. No need for you to officiate another Apology, not so soon, eh? Besides, my commander is a most forgiving woman."

"I am glad we have an understanding." I bowed my horns, if only for politeness's sake. Certainly not to acknowledge a point scored.

Of course they knew. One hardly needed to be a Questor of the Department of Convivial Harmony's External Vigilance branch to simply read the broadsheets. BloodStone's Apology had made it to the Bovitar Brief and even the capital. That was the price one paid for living in an open society, moreso as a public figure.

"The rye does sound good. Quite the bitter chill did blow down from the north this morning," Visha said, the barb of her words hidden behind a bright smile.

Studiously ignoring the comment, Armin turned and pulled a bottle and a glass from behind the bar. "I can see why Andromache is so fond of this world. It's not as scenic as our holdings on Wayfarer, but at least they aren't forced to share Portage with perfidious Alecto."

I chuckled at the reminder of the "friend" our two Houses shared. Elena's Up Spine colonies were hopelessly entwined with Alecto's offworld holdings. And the whole mess had started from Wayfarer. That world, like Portage, Mursam, and eight others was one jump from Diyu which made it a critical holding if one wanted to expand into the Dimensional Spine.

An entire planet was, after all, no small thing. Teleportation travel, particularly with beacon guidance in the modern age, allowed civilized nations to comfortably split whole worlds between them without stepping on each other's tails. But, just because they could share colonies did not mean that the Great Houses endured such insults to their demonic pride easily.

Establishing dominant control over a planet was a point of prestige for these nations. Having to share it, even with a close ally, turned what should be a glorious colony into a sore spot. What made it all worse was that it was Alecto, of all people. The friend that nobody quite trusted, but nobody could really afford to lose.

"I'll have some water, if it's no trouble," I said.

"None at all. Maybe we'll luck out and our surveyors will find a direct route between Vyrai and Diyu." Pouring the rye into the glass, Armin must have sensed my skepticism as she got another fluted glass and filled it for me.

"That would make things easier," Visha's tone was polite as she accepted the drink.

Keeping my expression neutral, I nodded along and took a polite sip. A colony's value was not just in its resources or population, but also in which worlds it connected to. The Spine was full of hub colonies that prospered and even fuller of stagnating dead-end backwaters. A hub colony with a direct link to Diyu, the largest hub world of them all, would be a massive boon for any House fortunate enough to control it and strong enough to hold it.

Of course, part of the reason such worlds were so valuable was not just because of their utility, but because of their relative rarity. It was simple supply and demand. With so many links already found, the odds of a new one popping up to shift the table were low.

Hardly impossible, but having a hub world already secure in your possession made investing in expansion efforts far easier, if only from the logistical burdens it simplified. Those who did not, risked getting tangled in an ever more desperate series of expansion efforts with little to show for it. At least beyond diminishing returns as they saw their logistical burdens skyrocket with every added link on the Dimensional Spine. It wasn't an insurmountable problem, but it was one that tended to snowball when comparing the haves and the have-nots among those with imperial ambitions.

"Not believing it, eh?" she raised a wry brow at me as she sipped her drink.

"I didn't say that," I demurred politely. This wasn't what I was here for, after all.

She clicked her tongue in disapproval, "Don't count us out of the game just because we got dealt a bad hand. Our biggest colony world is two jumps away from Diyu. Just like yours, it was only recently that a route bypassing this lovely world was found for your 'Mighty Mursam'."

"She has a point," Visha said before taking a thoughtful sip of her rye. "Oh, that is good."

"Isn't it? I may have to take a case back home with..." the officer trailed off as she stared out the window, her tail still.

The snowfall had stopped.

The precipitation had not ceased. Across the entirety of the club's grounds, the snow had simply stopped falling. Reflecting the light of the setting sun, flakes hung in midair. At first I was afraid that Elena had somehow seized that accursed mirror or worse, the Fae had decided to drop into this event.

However my answer came when I saw a tall figure confidently striding onto the grounds. Her auburn hair was tied back and she had tall, straight white horns,

An enchanted metallic tail swished and glowing wings made of arcane craft that put to shame any of the work Andros Consolidated had put into Maaria RedLash. DarkStar's Blood, at this distance I could not be sure if even MuArc Amalgamated could produce better work.

Floating to her side was a glass-fronted casket. Standing upright, it smoothly hovered at her mistress's heel. Nestled in the velvet lining was a row of over half a dozen masks of BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate. As they closed in, I could see that not a single faceplate rattled within their funerary case.

Stopping the snow was one thing; that was merely a matter of raw power. Breathtaking and awful power, but still power. The perfect precision required to move a heavy casket without so much as a bobble or jostle was, however, an almost more impressive display of terrifyingly refined skill.

As Armin discreetly emptied her glass, my attention went back to our visitor's uniform. The red light of the waning sun shone on the glossy white of the long Elenese military coat. The garment was piped in sapphire blue and adorned with polished rubies that were also inset on her tail and wings. Each had to be a magical capacitor that made my own earrings look like parlor tricks. Her coat also bore the gold flashes of a general officer in the Elenese Air Corps.

General-Lajtant HighTown had arrived.

+++++++

Tail straight, Pukovnik Emilia Armin squared her shoulders and saluted Elenese style with her index and middle fingers held horizontal over her eyes. The general returned the gesture, holding long fingers before her own bone-white full face mask. Both then swept their hands away with a dramatic flick of their wrists.

The Pukovnik cleared her throat. "Ma'am, may I introduce Prefect Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust and her second Primus Volantes Centurion Victorious Shadow."

"Oh, please do." Her superior's tone was amused as she removed her coat, revealing a dark blue dress uniform with a long skirt, high collar, and white sashes. A gold-cuffed, short jacket with her rank insignia was draped over her shoulders with the customary slots for her luminous wings.

"Soldiers of the Coordinator's Sister, make yourself known to General-Lajtant Lady Alisa Iya HighTown, Voivotess of the Nysa Military District, Ace of the Sky, and Auditor of the Serene Strike Flight College," Emilia Armin said, bowing her horns to all three of us.

Idly running a hand through the long bangs that framed her mask, HighTown tilted her head. The eye holes around her mask were large and I could see and feel the taller woman's genuine amusement and joy as her silvery tail twisted to and fro. "My, my, aren't you a treat, ne? My delightful little Countess," she purred, her Silvan Latin shaded by a slight Alecton accent.

That was in line with her dossier. The third daughter of the head bodyguard to the permanent Elenese ambassador to Alecto, she had grown up in the city of Mooring and could speak Alecton Bantish like a native.

The woman caught herself. "Ah, but first we must honor those lost in the Great Game." She pointed with a white gloved hand and the great casket slowly floated past her.

This close I could feel her Zephyr at work, but unlike the cold predatory nature of Armin's spirits, HighTown's worked with a tight, precise focus that was only eclipsed by the sheer joy the powerful Zephyr radiated. They had been trained to such a level that they reveled in discipline and would do anything to please their mistress

My own spirits were intrigued by the display but were loath to intrude on HighTown's Zephyr. This close, I could sense the tight coils of circulating air some of her contingent maintained below the casket while others wrapped around the midsection and provided stability. While the whole display was clearly a demonstration of power, the showcased precision was far more impressive; using your spirits to maximize thrust was an academy grade trick any pilot needed to learn to be worth their wings. Perfectly, suspending another object in motion with them, however, was another matter entirely.

As if moving on oiled casters, the casket slowly turned until its glass lid faced Visha and I. Not a single gust escaped the spirits' confines during the maneuver; the room's thick carpeting hardly rustled.

My tail dipped in shame at the lack of instant recognition. I knew all the returned masks belonged to those who had once flown with my Demi-Wing, but I could not immediately attach the masks to the names they had represented or the features they had obscured. I could not even blame the damage for my failure. Yes, half of the masks were warped and blackened by heat, speckled with dots of dried blood, or, much like mine, cracked, but just as many looked near factory fresh.

My focus was drawn, like filings to a lodestone, to a particularly pristine mask. Alone of the selection, the identity of its former owner was readily obvious, and not just because it was the only Polyxo mask in the casket.

"Oh, IronTalon," Visha sadly sighed.

Much of the body of my lost pilot had been recovered and taken back when we fled the Onyx Institute; enough, at least, to identify, a process made easy despite how badly mangled she had been, given that she had been the only pilot lost while wearing that model of RP. Volantes Centurion IronTalon Cardino's faceplate, helmet, and much of her head and shoulders, as well as her right leg and left wing, had, however, been left on Harp's World.

Now, at least the first of that list had returned to the custody of her comrades.

"You can put it down," I said to HighTown, my voice tight.

With a nod from the general, the casket smoothly lowered until it kissed the carpet and with a single whistling gust the air spirits shrieked out from the bottom surface and the reliquary settled into place. I kept in a smile. For all her absurd power and skill, she was still mortal. I'd already endured more than enough from ridiculously overpowered puppets of so-called "Gods" to suffice for any number of lifetimes; I had no taste to make the acquaintance of yet another one.

Mortal or no, for all my own power, skill, and luck, I was essentially little more than a talented journeywoman by the standard of the worlds of the Dimensional Spine. Even the superbly controlled descent in an enclosed environment HighTown had so casually showcased was beyond me. Powerful and exuberant as my spirits were, neither they nor I possessed that level of precision.

I was merely someone fortunate enough that I had not been crushed by a far superior fighter before I'd had a chance to understand just how in over my head I was. To give the devil her due, though, War Mistress Rodswor had tried.

In my last life, I had barely managed to make it into even the top ten combat mages of the Great War. This time, my position wasn't anywhere near so rosy. I was not even the top pilot in my Demi-Wing, or in my family.

Still, I suppressed the pang of jealousy and put it deep down with my fear and anxiety.

Despite my self-awareness, I still had to suppress a pang of jealousy; I crammed it down deep, along with the fear and anxiety I didn't have the luxury of indulging here and now. Even without her Kiwi-Zemlja Industries Perun strike RP, HighTown radiated presence. The suit certainly would have helped, though. I admit to having been glad we didn't meet in the air. Combined external suits and internal enchantments were rare, and even by RitualPlate standards prohibitive in components and maintenance, but clearly House Elena had found a talent they thought worthy of such investment.

I had my own thoughts on the strategic value, and utility of such an asset, but the Coordinator did not ask me.


"Safe and sound," HighTown bowed her horns again. "Without officially taking any responsibility on the part of House Elena or absolving our Sister House of any culpability, and acting merely as a fellow flier of the empty skies, I offer my condolences to the loss of your pilots. The other grave goods will be repatriated via our current embassy on Portage to your attache. Rest assured, I will be returning to our ambassador shortly to ensure that handover proceeds smoothly as well."

Tail stiff, Visha bowed in ritual response. I sent her a pulse of support. Given her family's history with Elena, I knew this was hard for her, but I appreciated her being by my side.

"Thank you. We take the gesture in the manner it was given, and appreciate the respect extended." I returned the bow as well. All of us had been briefed on her known capabilities. That was why VioletBlood, along with the rest of my people, were positioned ready to respond. Doubtless the Elenese general also had backup, but if it came to a question of who could bring the most, the fastest, I was certain my associates would give a good accounting.

Of course, if things truly escalated so dramatically, I doubted that any strategies that anyone had come up with would be worth the paper they'd been written on for very long. As the saying goes, "everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face."

Which was why, to put things very simply, a lot of tactical planning involved "bring more fists."

"Lovely!" HighTown clapped her hands, causing her aide to wince. "It is good to meet under such civil conditions is it not?"

"Preferable to the alternative, as exciting as that could be," I replied, giving a toothy smile.

The General pulsed amusement at that.

"Would you like a drink first, Ma'am? Primus Shadow can attest to the rye's quality," Armin said, her tail twitching.

"It is quite good," Visha agreed.

"Well, I suppose since the heavy lifting is over, I can go off-duty." HighTown brushed a hand across the ruby clasp at the front of her uniform jacket. Fuchsia fire flickered over her body consuming her uniform without burning it. The contained arcane conflagration grew until it formed a contiguous aura that ran from the tips of her horns to the soles of her feet.

Only her mask was not consumed.

"And we can have some privacy," the burning figure said as a pink nimbus shot out and formed into dozens of arching comets. All over the hall there were sizzling bursts of fire as various scrying devices were burned out and HighTown's Zephyr chased off the various haints and other nosy spirits before returning to their mistress.

For once wishing that I had something stronger than water, I drank from my glass and stared out at the bay, fluffing my wings in what I hoped our guests would think was merely a nervous gesture.

Then, in a dry almost scorching gust, the vivid pink flames gutted out, revealing a black gown with gold piping. Backless and sleeveless, it was a rather daring design, at least by Elenese standards. From the dress's somber black satin to its the extravagant gold trim, from the way the almost scandalously high frontal hemline cut to the upper thigh to the gown's plunge to the floor in the back, culminating in a long train, the garment's inherent contradictions were textbook Nysa City aesthetic.

I was sure LoveBlood would even be able to identify which fashionista had been commissioned for the work.

So busy studying HighTown's sartorial choices was I that I hardly noticed her approach.

"If you'll pardon the indulgence," she said, with almost flippant casualness,
I'd like to get to know you a bit better. I've heard so many things!"

Reaching out, HighTown cupped my chin and lowered her masked gaze, staring into my eyes.

My tail froze as my mind locked up at the breach of social protocol. DarkStar's Blood, she wasn't even wearing gloves!

Her fingers felt warm against my skin and the contact tingled as her emotions poured into me. Her friendliness was utterly sincere. She would do anything for those she cared about, and, given what she was capable of, that was terrifying.

Glowing wings spread out behind as her shining tail snaked about. The tip flicked to and fro echoing her confident, effortless joy. There was no fear nor anxiety in the General-Lajant as she loomed above me. Her hand lingered before releasing my face as her arm pulled back. For a moment I was afraid that she was about to rip off her mask. An unthinkable breach of decorum, of course, but given what she had just done...

"A true, pious Heroine," she said, sounding almost disbelieving with delight. "Treasure these days while they last, Countess; squadron command has an intimacy with your pilots that higher command will deny you," HighTown purred as she held out her hand towards the bar. "Some of the rye if you would be so kind, Pukovnik."

"Of course, Ma'am." Armin filled a glass as she pointedly did not comment on her mistress's familiarity with an enemy officer.

"And don't think I've forgotten you," HighTown gave her subordinate a nod. "Take heart, all three of you have shown more sense than most vainglorious pilots."

"By showing the bare minimum of common sense?" I asked, trying not to keep the skepticism from my voice. "My duty as a soldier is to serve my Empress as effectively as possible, not to waste Her resources chasing after something as petty as my own glory and honor."

Shiny black lips twitched in a smile. It was unnerving to see the material of her mask twist like that, akin to seeing a theater doll swap expressions mid soliloquy. "Ah, there is the cynical pragmatism Artemis instills in all her proteges."

Mask obligingly shifting, she sipped from her glass, nodded approvingly to her aide, and pondered. "Just be careful what you learn from her, my little saint."

I would have bristled at the appellation and the insulation, but instead I had to keep from grinning. HighTown's intel was wrong. The spying apparatus of the house of masks and lies had missed something. Oh yes, Tribune Artemis Magnus Quirinus was my mentor and commanding officer, but I had learned pragmatism lifetimes before I met her.

But even without knowing that, a truly detailed study of my days as a cadet, as an orphan would note I was different. I tamped down my joy and instead transmuted it into a vicious smile. If she wanted to play this game, and if I wanted to hide my discovery from a powerful demon's empathic powers, then I had to play the part of the bellicose BlackSkyvian.

"Oh yes, we know the rumors, the deals Tribune Quirinus has made, the associates she keeps, but the way I see it...." Spreading my wings, I parted my lips showing bright teeth as I looked up into her slate-blue eyes.

"If Quirinus will claw up a pile of corpses to get that Legate's baton, better to help her climb than be trod upon, no? And better to feed the Imperatrix's enemies to her ambitions."

Visha sent me a nervous pulse but I turned and locked eyes with her for a moment. It was a look honed over lifetimes of battle. I have this. Follow my lead.

The glass creaked as HighTown's talons started to extend. "You call us enemies?" she hissed before regaining her composure.

"Surely not!" I said with an ice cold grin I'd learned from countless HR meetings, "But, as for that ill-advised project on Harp's World? Well, I think we can all agree that those fools were attempting to intrude on forces best not spoken of. Am I wrong, Primus Shadow?"

"No, Ma'am. If the General knew what those boffins were meddling with, she would have put on her Perun and wiped the whole institute off the map," Visha said virtuously, adding quite the nice spin to the conversation.

The smile flickered from the Ace of the Sky's face. A blink and it was back, but Visha had hit. This was why I loved my wingwoman.

I bowed my horns to her before going back to HighTown. "Someone who wears as many hats as you would escape with only slight censor and a brief sentence in a reformatory, of course. An instructor, general, and Ace of Aces is a terrible thing to waste."

And that was a weakness. She was valuable to the Coordinator. Which given how the Elenese thought, meant her leash was as complex as it was gilded. Regardless, as an asset she was too valuable to risk on the mere throw of the dice. Yes, she could be used when the risk was low, or the reward was high, but to do so when otherwise could lose a critical piece.

Elena had spent so much to enhance the Ace of the Sky to simulate the power of an Elder Demoness; they created the very conditions that limited the deployment of Elders on the modern battlefield.

"It really is looking into a mirror, HighTown murmured. "When I was your age...."

Quickly walling away her true emotions, HighTown put the glass to her false lips and drank, buying herself seconds to recover.

Once more, I transmuted fear of discovery into the quite legitimate fear of the powerful demoness before me. There was always the risk that HighTown was playing me, that she was a secret telepath who was peeling apart my mind despite my defenses. There would be no secrets, then.

"You were a plucky Imperial Heroine too, of course, flying in pigtails, fighting for your mate, spreading harmony throughout Diyu. It must have been so romantic." Like a razor hidden in a fruit, Visha's sweet innocent tones had just the edge of the loathing for the hegemony that turned her family into refugees.

"Perhaps we have drifted from a more pleasant topic?" Armin asked, eyes darting around. I wondered about her game. Someone who could be the Ace of the Sky's aide, someone who could rise to wing command in House Elena, someone who could fly me down and not fall into panic and fear...

Someone like that was not a wilting flower. She had to be playing the reasonable subordinate to her aggressive superior.

I bulled past such transparent efforts. "General, I know not everything makes it into the pulps, the cinema, and the opera. However..." My tail flicked as I gambled on a stab in the dark. "I do know that Nysa is a railway hub."

Flat slate-blue eyes narrowed. "This is about your Apology."

"And a certain aggrieved party. I am certain said Lady has railroad interests in your House as well as mine," I kept my tone even.

"The... Lady?" Armin looked puzzled.

HighTown held up a hand and stared down at me. "I know of this Lady. I know she was not a part of your... adventure in Harp's World."

There was the tell, the tremor, but most of all the offense. She knew. And it ate at her. So she would have flown out and destroyed it, and buried the secret.

"Ah, my mistake then," I shrugged.

HighTown slowly exhaled. "You are bold, but you push. Are you ready for the costs if you judge wrong?" She held up a slim hand as her talons shone with quicksilver.

It was threat enough. Her reputation for making friends was well earned. But so was my reputation for taking on far more powerful people who tried to do the same. This was not the same battlefield as the sky over Narvos where War Mistress Zaphania Rodswor tried to make me hers, but it was uncomfortably close to it.

"I accepted the risks when I set myself against War Mistress Rodswor," I calmly stated as I pointedly turned my head away from her to look out the window. "Besides, my wingwoman and I are far less valuable to my House than you and your aide are to yours."

Armin's face paled while HighTown's eyes grew distant as she scanned the horizon. She chuckled. "Bold, but what if I think I can take the bait before the trap's jaws close?"

"That just makes the trap all the more tempting, does it not?" Visha asked.

"Tempting? I make no claim to violating guest-right." HighTown tapped her glass. "And if I were in your hooves, and dealing with a peer House and an emissary of superior power, I would grab every asset at hand. More just than your fluffy aides and fiancee. More even than your Squadron, if you could bring in that delightful little ship..."

I could feel the pressure of her presence and her tall white horns. "A bold gambit, is what I would say to any such hypothetical. So far as potential overreaches go, it has its positives."

"Ah, and you're not too prideful to not call upon your Mother and what personal troops she can scramble," HighTown chuckled from deep in her chest, her talons clinking against her glass. "So, she intercepted my missives after all. How interesting. Hmm… I suppose now you're regretting not having closer relations with the Church. Just a bit more pull and who knows? You could have influence enough to request some Orders Militant on standby, maybe even arranged for a few more relics to be released to your custody. That could have been a nasty surprise… Though, if rumors about what you really talked about at that conclave are true... perhaps. Perhaps. Anything I missed, Armin?"

Not entirely right, but not entirely wrong. Well, at least she doesn't seem to know about any holy blades, I thought. Not that I would accept if Uriel offered, not for this. Such an offer would not be free of strings.

"The BlackSkyvians always have more ships," the subordinate officer said, her nervousness beginning to wane.

"Yes, the mighty Household Fleet. So many worlds to protect from so many rivals." Amusement returned to HighTown's voice. "Maybe one day the Coordinator's sister will over-commit and come short, but today is not that day, I suppose. I'm sure that, as a fellow strike pilot, we both have our views on shippies and the giant targets they fly."

I let my own pleasure bubble to the surface. Even if she knew about the HVF Wolf Spider, another "delightful little ship", there was little she could do. The Wolf Spider's strike squadron was approved for Portage's airspace, and, assuming Quirinus's associates were correct, Elena had no such overt assets. Doubtless, they had covert resources, but using them to take out that squadron would also kick things off.

"I thought, 'What would I do in your situation?'" HighTown asked as she took a contemplative sip from her glass. "Normally one has to put in more effort to model an opponent's thought processes, but... we have each other's measure, yes? You have baited the hook and if I go for the lure your associates will benefit."

"If you take the bait, Lady HighTown," Visha reminded. "You need not try to make friends today."

"Well, yes." HighTown's eyes sparkled at that small, bold rejoinder. "Neither of you lack fortitude. And I am expected back at our embassy."

"Are they truly brave?" Pukovnik Armin asked as she refilled three glasses with rye and one with water. "Or do they simply think they are too good for death to claim them?"

"Oh, use your horns, Emilia!" HighTown corrected as she accepted her drink. "These are no glory hounds deluded into thinking they are immortal. No.... this is tactical fatalism."

War from the blood-drenched mud of the Rhine Front to the glass-fused sands of the Southern Continent, to the steppes of Russy, to the jungles of Crocelli, to the snow of Harp's World, and a dozen other places flashed by in my mind, and doubtless in Visha's as well.

"Perhaps that's just born from experience. We both know war is not a game. We've seen the consequences for ourselves," I nodded towards the casket of masks Hightower had brought with us, "We know that victory is only bought by spending blood and gold. That glory is a byproduct of that sinister alchemy."

"No... it's not that." HighTown held up a finger on her free hand and waggled it. "Ah, perhaps you should be more of the Martyred Lady sect, ne? Your faith does burn bright. It's not that you don't fear death, but you have taken it into your calculations."

"Her fiancee does have DarkStar-red hair," Armin offered, her tail swishing. "Maybe that's what's behind her cynical mask."

"Is that it, then? You really are the pious Heroine?" HighTown's tone was inquisitive.

Visha simply gave them that same amiable smile that had won her countless rounds of cards, while I put on the empty grin that secured me business deals and political negotiations across three lifetimes.

I had to admit, it was a little amusing how wrong they were. My faith had nothing to do with my views on death. Blunt experience was what told me what could happen if I died. Maybe if the Railroad Lady had not saved me in Craw Holler, maybe if I had been blown out of the sky over the Onyx Institute, if my mask had been in the casket next to us, maybe then I would have faced oblivion. But on the other wing I was two for two on experiencing what happened beyond the veil.

"I am a humble servant; merely a voice among many." I bowed my horns.

"Oh, don't discount yourself too much, my little Countess. Theatrical humility doesn't become you. After all, you played a very important role at that... convocation was it? Yes, that big meeting on 'Mighty Mursam' as you like to call it. Tell me, what conclusion did so many learned and pious Sisters come to?"

I frowned, HighTown's tone was not mocking. She seemed genuinely curious. "The number of validated Signs and Portents were statistically significant, but not unprecedented."

"Did the numerologists, bird-watchers, bone-counters, and reed-tossers come to any real conclusions then?" Armin asked.

I turned to glare at the adjunct and found, to my shock, HighTown mirroring my ire. "Pukovnik, I would prefer if you did not talk yourself into a duel with the Sister of the Coordinator's favourite champions," the Elenese general said, her words harshly clipped.

My tail curled at that. I was an Imperial Heroine yes, but that was mostly a propaganda value.

"No offence was intended," Armin bowed her horns to me.

"None was taken," I replied, my mouth dry.

Careful, this could have been a setup. You know Armin is a careful commander. This could be a scheme to endear the General to you. Or maybe some greater scheme is at work.

"But yes, the conclave decided to heighten the alert for relevant... well, signs. Not every attendee agreed that Her return is imminent," I said, counting myself among that number. "However, the general feeling was that prudence is the best course of action. Perhaps the portents indicate something else?"

"Like maybe a new saint?" HighTower playfully asked. "Doesn't that require some documentation of miracles or blessings?"

"There is a verification process, yes," I coughed. "If we could be so blessed to have someone of such holiness, but I would have little role in such a great proceeding."

"For landed gentry you are rather self-effacing. You take more after your mistress than your fiancee in that," HighTower noted. "It really is quite tiresome, don't you know?"

"Baroness VioletBlood did have a prior engagement today, and we were each limited to one companion," I replied, ignoring the second remark.

"Yes, yes, of course." HighTown's tail swished as she went back to the windows. Sipping, she studied the sky. "I suppose I don't want to push things; I would so hate to upset your mother. But, it would be nice to meet her. Have you set a date?" she asked, her question both wistful and incongruous.

"Pardon?" Confusion cut through my carefully balanced screen of mental misdirection. I glanced at the casket. Surely she was not referring to...

"Oh I'm so sorry! I asked about your wedding, while our mistress was right here," HighTown dipped her head, bowing her horns. "Unless you are planning to add her to the ceremony? That would be so romantic, to have all three of you bound together upon the altar." She clapped her hands together with girlish glee, smiling winsomely. "What do you have planned? I can understand not wanting to spoil all the details in advance, but surely you can share something, ne?"

I had not planned anything. This was one of the benefits of having an arrangement. It was arranged, and I wouldn't need to plan anything. I went to tell her just that before the flick of her second's grey feathers caught my eye and I hesitated. My prior engagement with Pukovnik Armin had only gone as well as it had in part because of my reputation for having a plan for every risk taken. It was also what I was banking on to secure my safety here, with a powerful demon who desired to take me away and brainwash me in close quarters. I could ill afford to discard any advantage. I did not beat the War Mistress by not using every single tool at my disposal.

"As you say, I can't give away too much, and many details, such as the date, remain to be determined, this far from the occasion," I prevaricated, buying time to think.

Damn her and her silly non sequiter!

Grudgingly, I had to commend her gambit. She was clearly just fishing, but her choice in bait had thrown me right off my game. I couldn't underestimate her.

General HighTown helpfully nodded along with my words, damn her eyes.

I did know that there were a variety of different customs to weddings, many of which were only used on rare occasions. "But to give you a hint, I think you'll find our most interesting traditions well-represented." I smiled, projecting confidence as I prevaricated wildly.

In truth, I was confident in the bluff. With so many customs and traditions around weddings, especially among these crazy demons, which was the most interesting would be nothing more than a matter of opinion.

To my surprise, HighTown responded by wagging a finger at me chidingly. Had she figured out my play? "Now, now Countess, that's giving the game away!"

I tensed, preparing to justify myself and redoubling my efforts at keeping my emotions screened away.

"I suppose it's hardly surprising that you'd go through with the Domum Deductio. You are one to take matters into your own talons, such as that Apology, no?" She flashed her fangs at me before continuing, "Rather than it being too difficult, you might find it too easy for your tastes?"

"I wouldn't say too easy or too difficult, exactly," I scrambled for words, trying not to give away that I had no idea what she was referring to. "It's just that the logistics are somewhat challenging."

With that useful, all-encompassing problem presented as a shield, I looked at Visha for support. Confusing me further, she was so busy blushing an almost incandescent red that she missed her cue completely.

Before I had the time to process my usually reliable aide's complete miss, HighTown clapped her hands again, emitting glee with all the subtlety of a generator shedding heat. "Ah, of course!" she giggled, and leaned in to whisper to Pukovnik Armin in the manner of sharing a salacious secret, who responded by bringing her drink to her lips and finishing the glass.

"Lilla to Larium is not so far these days, but…" She looked at Visha and I grasped the unseen lifeline. Yes, logistical deliveries from Amber Island to Larium would be quite an issue.

"But Amber Island is over three thousand miles away," I completed the sentence, nodding along in assurance that we were on the same wavelength. I was still missing something, but transport and distances were at least familiar ground.

"It... is," Visha agreed in an unusually shy voice, which gave me pause. "And my family would not make it easy for you, Countess. You'd get a real challenge."

...What?

I recalled that the Shadow family had made that very trip with a great deal of their stock for Sabre's Watch. I pulsed reassurance at Visha. I was perfectly capable of making my own logistical arrangements.

"I would expect no less," I said, my tail swishing now that I had a secure grasp on the situation.

"As it should be!" HighTown's eyes sparkled, "I don't envy many of your House's traditions, but my wife would have adored a ritual kidnapping."

My tail froze, my limited counter-intelligence training strained to its limit to maintain my composure at the news of what I'd committed myself to, frantically going back over the last few minutes of conversation in my memory.

These crazy demons!

That said… it does sound like an interesting operation problem, though, I warmed to the idea the more I thought about it. If I think about it as training...

My mind whirled with possibilities, and only half an ear attended the rest of the conversation.

HighTown turned to Visha. "If I may, how did your relationship with the Countess start? To go from pen pals to wingwoman and mistress is quite a jump, ne?"

"Her service is divine," I distractedly tossed out, before Visha could respond. I'd only been half paying attention to the question, and my mind was still partially working through the intriguing idea of a "hostage rescue training scenario" as I responded. "She always knows just what I need to get out of bed, and how to keep me going no matter how long and hard the exercise is."

I leaned back in my chair and chuckled to myself, thinking of how irreplaceably delectable Visha's coffee was, and her service as an adjutant had become. "The taste of her morning pick-me-up is heavenly, and at this point I don't know if I'd be able to get anything done without her special touch. I confess, I might even be addicted. LoveBlood thinks so, but she prefers a sweeter brew."

I looked up, and was surprised to see Visha and Armin both blushing and refusing to look me in the eye. General Hightower, though, had a smirk of almost predatory approval on her face as her eyes seemed to reassess me.

"My my my, I had heard you too have an eye for talent! Perhaps I misjudged you earlier when I called you a truly pure heroine?" HighTown's slate blue eyes danced with mirth as she studied me. "It would be interesting to see what matrimony does for you... provided you survive the Great Game, of course. I would dearly like to see Baroness VioletBlood, but I suppose if I brought her down here, things would get a bit too exciting, and time is flying."

"I am certain we can arrange another summit." My eyes flickered to the casket and then back to the demoness who was still obviously toying with the idea of breaking truce to capture and brainwash me, diplomatic fallout and military risk be damned.

"Ah, I could then meet all three of you! And learn more about your wedding plans!" HighTown's eyes danced with mirth. Pukovnik Armin drained her glass again. I wasn't sure when she'd refilled it, which was equal parts impressive and concerning.

"Well, we really can't reveal more any time soon, I've given away too much already," I gave her my best winning smile.

"It is a shame both the Coordinator and her sister would take it entirely too seriously were I to offer to assist you with planning your Domum Deductio," HighTown sighed gustily, waving her free hand in the universal gesture of "what can you do?" I managed to catch the Pukovnik's furtive movements to refill her glass this time. "It is hardly as if your fiancee or mistress can do so in this case. And any prize worth taking should be a challenge requiring hard work..."

"Maybe I shouldn't have made things quite so challenging for you," I murmured, taking a sip of water.

"Now, now, I appreciate the effort." Tail swishing, HighTown wagged her finger at me again. She finished her drink. "I do wish you the best of luck. I look forward to your wedding."

"I'll keep that in mind, and I will be sure to let you know about the date," I managed to not grit my teeth. I knew my wedding would be a sea of political sharks, but inviting an enemy flag officer was like equipping all of those sharks with heavy torpedoes. It was possible she wouldn't be able to make it, or that it would be treated like sending the ceremonial pro-forma invitation to the Imperatrix.

I just wasn't holding out hope for it.

"It was an experience meeting you," Visha politely said from surprisingly close to my side.

So close, but I still can barely feel her exasperation... Such control she has! It truly is impressive.

"Same, same. Come, Armin, we have a long flight, ahead of us. Let us hope the BlackSkyvian diplomats are more polite and less bellicose than their Legionaries," HighTown said as her uniform flashed back into existence.

Armin handed the living weapon her coat and the two made their way back to the door. The Pukovnik deposited her superior's and her own once-again empty glass at the bar as they passed it.

"Countess DiamondDust, Centurion Shadow, do give your Baroness my best and I promise to give you all a wedding gift you won't forget." Her bright, sunny smile was all fangs. The two Elenese fliers then stepped outside and spread their wings. The snow obligingly parted in the air before them as they flew off.

I exhaled and the tension that went from my wings to my tailfins finally eased up a fraction.

"Call in Reinhild, see if she can bring up a cart or something to move this casket."

Visha nodded, but paused for a moment before she left.

Alone, I turned to the casket. Six saintly visages stared back at me. I wondered how many similar souls HighTown had buried.

+++++++

Backing down the VTOL's ramp, my heels tapped none-too-soon against the familiar deck of the Tarantula Hawk's aft hangar, signaling an end to the torment that was walking backwards in heels down an incline. As for the shoes in question… While my gold pumps were far from the strangest footwear I had ever worn aboard a warship, the white dress I wore was easily the fanciest set of clothes to ever grace the decks.

I pulled at one end of a stretcher while Visha bore the other. Strapped down atop it were the masks that we had gone through all this trouble to collect. The casket we had left in Reinhild's capable paws. If it passed inspection, it could go back to Mursam with the maid and the rest of my staff.

Otherwise, best it and any surprises lurking within its capacious interior not have access to the Tarantula Hawk.

Still in her Harmonia, Tribune Quirinus strode over with Caenis, her second in command, by her side. VioletBlood and Lucia, also armored, stood by a gurney with a group of Ritualista and other artificers. House Elena was hardly the most trustworthy of all the schemers on Diyu, but if there was one thing they held nearly as sacred as their dear leader, it was their masquerade. Still, just because perfidy was unlikely in this case didn't mean we could overlook our due diligence, and I took no offense to the Tarantula Hawk's crew double-checking the inspection my kitsune and Mother's... mercenaries had conducted.

That the sailors and their officers allowed the masks onto the ship in the first place was a praiseworthy extension of their trust already.

Warm feelings only went so far, though, and I was harboring some suspicions about a few of the specialists Duchess SilverFlight had in her employ, particularly the silent pair of sapphire-skinned twins who checked Visha and I over after we returned from our meeting with HighTown. Afterward they gave us their wordless approval, communicated solely though a meaningful nod, a particularly chipper and inquisitive aide emerged from the wainscotting to debrief us while I waited for a moment to reunite with my mother.

"Prefect DiamondDust, Primus Shadow," Quirinus said after returning my greeting salute. "By your presence, I trust the handover went well. How was General-Lajtant HighTown?"

"Intimidating," I stated, tail stiff as the arcane specialists took the stretcher, locked it onto the gurney, and went to work. The ground crew bustled around the inspection team securing the VTOL to the deck and doing other bits of maintenance.

"She asked about our wedding plans," Visha said, her tone a mix of shaken and amused. "And the Prefect had some rather interesting ideas."

"Interesting?" VioletBlood demanded as she stomped over. "Don't you dare tell me that you were planning my wedding with those two-faced glory-hounds! If you were going to try to play social games, you should have brought me! Is this what it takes to get you to plan the most important social event in both our fiefs?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's not that dramatic. It's just a wedding. Honestly, I would have preferred a simple contract signing, or even a quiet ceremony, but apparently I gave the general the impression we were aiming for a Domum Deductio-"

"What!" VioletBlood theatrically tore off her helmet, and after her air spirits fluffed her hair back into place, glared at me. "You told the Ace of the Sky you wanted a Domum Deductio? For both of us?! I thought having trained sharks and a floating procession was daring but you went for ritual kidnapping! I can't know if I should thank or strangle-"

As LoveBlood ranted, I idly wondered what eccentric fixations had driven a Trosic Elder Demoness, aided and egged on by a naiad clan, to spend centuries of maddeningly focused breeding trying to domesticate sharks, of all things. Several of the Shadow family's customers owned specimens of their own and thus, Visha had some familiarity with the creatures, at least the successful breeds. Not every creation of said Elder Demoness turned out tame, even by shark standards.

I hoped she had picked the smaller and more passive fancy carpet shark as opposed to the much larger, wide-eyed salmon shark. The latter was apparently affectionate, intelligent, loyal, and despite their surprisingly adorable and stumpy appearance, grew into nine foot long, quarter-ton, voracious predators.

Freezing mid-tirade, LoveBlood turned and her skin paled to a ghostly rose color. "That is, Ma'am..." she coughed and tried not to wilt under the Tribune's gaze.

"No, no, I too am surprised at such a confession on our Countess's part," Quirinus gave a light chuckle as Caenis split off. Freed from the chit-chat, the wing's second in command started talking to the inspection team and to the VTOL's pilot, who had also moved over to join the huddle of bustling efficiency.

"It's not that big a deal," I said, brushing the whole affair off, wanting to be done with this so I could go back to my bunk and change back into a uniform, "and we are taking up precious hangar space besides."

LoveBlood, Quirinus, and even Visha all traded strange looks with each other. Which was totally unreasonable. It couldn't be that bad... right?

"Are the masks clean?" Quirinus asked, switching topics with all the subtlety of a Lance.

"It looks that way, Ma'am," Caenis said, staring at the gurney. The two Harmonia masks could only be from her Squadron. "As clean as such things can be."

"Okay, then let's get out of everyone's way," the Tribune nodded to the inspection team and started walking towards the starboard forward doors out of the hangar. "The Skipper wants things squared away. The Wolf Spider is still conducting landing operations, but once that's concluded, we're putting some distance between us and any lurking Elenese friends."

Lucia Hood's hooves rang on the deck as she paced with the gurney. "Ma'am, will there be time for a remembrance?"

"I'd like to do it before we leave Portage, but we might have to wait until we're on a recharge cycle in Mursam," Quirinus answered, her voice distant as she reviewed some internal schedule. "Worst case, we'll have it in Freehold before the training exercises commence."

Standing to one side, Lucia's purple eyes scanned the pale mask of her friend as it was wheeled into the next compartment. "Aye, Ma'am," she said, her voice and emotions unreadable.

Visha stood by her with a sympathetic emotional pulse and, careful to avoid touching a wing, a hand gently placed atop the woman's armored shoulder. It was a sad state of affairs that Lucia and her friends had fled a war-torn world only to have one of their number die in the Imperatrix's service.

I moved to Lucia's other side. "I'll be there when you tell Milly," I promised her. It was the least I could do.

"We'll take it from here," VioletBlood ordered the inspection team, who were still hanging around waiting for instruction.

After glancing to the Tribune for confirmation, the artificers and technicians took up their toolboxes and, relief in their tails, made for the nearest ladder-well and clambered up to the deck above us.

"I'll tell Julia and Fabia," Caenis said, referring to the two other Squadron Leaders. "Though I'm sure the ship's rumor mill has already reached them."

"Bunch of gossips," Quirinus huffed and shook her head. "Take care of that; I'm sorry but I have to talk to our... associates before we leave New Ivalo airspace."

"Are the skies clear?" I asked. My vision filled with HighTown strapping on her Perun and taking a Strike Squadron to the skies, backed up by one of Armin's Volos air superiority wings.

The Tribune chuckled. "And that's why Manta Flight 56 is still landing on the Wolf. I suppose they could have deployed their new toys, but... the golem-controllers are still properly learning how to best bring the Stilettos back into the hangar. Just another training exercise, I suppose," Quirinus shrugged.

"And even after everyone's buttoned up, the Silver Aetheric Securities Corporation pilots will cover us," Caenis said, without an ounce of disdain for the mercenary Fliers.

And not because it would be rude to insult my mother and her company, I thought. But also because airships, which must recall their combat air patrol before transit, are at their most vulnerable immediately before and after teleportation. In an emergency the Stilettos could be left behind, I suppose, but that only demonstrates the value of an attritable asset.

"It was good that she was in the area and available for hire," I agreed, wishing I could be flying with my mother, but accepting that our duty would pull us apart.

"Very convenient indeed, especially since Elena must have at least one spy ship somewhere nearby. If we can trust our spooks, there shouldn't be anything larger than a Mace destroyer among the mask-wearers' hidden fleet. Probably. Thankfully, the Dazhbog class is more recon oriented anyway, so nothing to fear there. Probably." Quirinus paused before ascending the stairs. "The real threat the Elenese pose to us might not be obvious right now, but it could rear its head whenever we next lock horns."

Lucia rested her hands on the gurney's handle. "Ah, yes, that is a concern. Should Elena's spy ships discover how to pierce our veils, they would undoubtedly pass that information along to the rest of their fleet; it would kill us nearly as quickly as a simple bullet to the head."

"Perhaps," Visha said. "But we can't assume our arcane secrets will stay secret forever can we?"

"Secrets do have a way of getting out," VioletBlood agreed, giving me a very confident, and very well-earned, smile.

The tip of my tail curled at her oblique reference as the mixed feelings I held about its subject, and all the other secrets that weighed on my soul, curdled my guts. Reincarnation was certainly one of the strangest, and most personal, of those secrets, but it was hardly my only cross to bear. I wasn't against obscuring the truth in the pursuit of practical goals on paper, but LoveBlood had just gently reminded me of how even the most well intentioned plans can blow up in your face from the unexpected.

Watching the Tribune leave, Caenis shook her head before giving me a critical look. She knew Fabia and I had joined Invidia and Legate JadeJavelin to that meeting on Forlorn Prospect, but she still did not know who it was with, or even what was so important that it had cost the lives of three of her squadron mates. She had done well integrating her transfers and rebuilding First Squadron back up to three full Flights.

I gave her an apologetic look as we resumed our walk down the long cargo bay. To either side of the compartment were tied-down pallets of equipment and gear for the ground team's part of our exercises.

Lucia and Visha were about to maneuver the gurney around a group of Forward Recon Legionaries, but the hoof-sloggers noticed us and respectfully stepped to the other side of the golem they had been tending to.

It was one of the new Scorpion Fire Support Golems. A bit longer than the standard Mule, it was also a narrow-bodied mechanism supported by five pairs of skittering claw-tipped legs. The golem was strapped down to the deck, with the legs folded up. Unlike a Mule instead of an open-topped cargo bed the Scorpion was festooned in weapons. In front was a turret with a pair of stubby arms. The left bore a heavy machine gun and the right bore a grenade launcher. The hull also had a couple clusters of smoke projectors.

At first I thought the golem was asleep but the front turret turned to face me as the little arms waggled up and down as if in greeting. Then the aft turret also rotated back and forth as it raised and lowered Minerva auto-cannon's triple barrel cluster. It was a disturbing if cheerful motion, especially coming from an armored combat golem bearing a distressing resemblance to a giant scorpion with a body made out of a seven foot long metal casket.

I was uncomfortably reminded of the floating coffin contraption HighTown had used. The art of a pink-skinned scantily-clad woman standing atop the barrel of a confetti-spraying cannon, arms and wings spread in triumph, added a degree of levity, though I did wonder if that nose-art affected the golem's camouflage systems.

"Aww, Party Cannon likes you, Ma'am," Centurion AlabasterFang, a lean, white-haired Forward Recon Legionary said as she patted the Scorpion on the top of its forward turret. A collection of vision slits mounted on both turrets and at fixed points on the hull, whirred and clicked as the golem's controlling spirit focused on me.

Better than the alternative, I thought. Scorpions were not fully autonomous, but as golems went they were bright and apparently rather protective.

Smugly lounging between the turrets atop the golem's upper deck was a familiar large, silver-coated, ship's cat. Miss Chippy's jade eyes studied me with imperious disdain before the huge cat lowered her head down onto her paws to regard me with sleepy-eyed unconcern.

"Don't worry, Prefect Countess; she's unloaded and half-asleep," AlabasterFang said, probably talking about the golem.

"You should get one!" VioletBlood declared to the laughter of the other Legionaries.

Except for Visha, who knew the Baroness was not joking.

"I think one would be perfect. Or do you have to get two to make sure they don't get lonely? Like we do with the ship's cats?" VioletBlood asked. It was easy for her to be confident; she was wearing her flight armor.

To her point, the rotund form of Sandal-Chewer was sprawled on the deck with both claws and mouth latched onto into one of the clawed manipulators at the end of another golem's leg. That war machine held its limb still and seemed to study the massive cat with what felt like perplexed interest.

"I am curious to see how North-Central Golemworks' latest performs," I admitted with honest interest. Despite being smaller than even a Luxon Bastet golem, the Scorpion was intimidating enough up close. Purportedly it had less armor, but stronger wards and equivalent firepower all in a lighter footprint, but at the cost of endurance and magazine depth.

It would be good to get more hard data about how they performed. Looking around, I could see two more of the combat constructs, one of which omitted the aft turret. Each seemed interested in the cats that their fellows had managed to attract.

"Shame we couldn't get any of the brand new Heras with their 3.1 inch guns, but I won't say no to some more firepower. Shhh, don't be jealous," the Legionary said, patting the golem again, which seemed to slow its motions and drift back to something close to sleep. Miss Chippy, for her part, did fall asleep, massive fluffy tail swishing back and forth before slowing to somnambulant twitchings.

"This one is fussy, unlike Lady Long Legs over there." AlabasterFang pointed to the next Scorpion in line which lazily rotated its forward turret towards us.

The art on that one consisted of a pinup-posed figure who had the expected exceptionally long and well-formed legs. The piece was incomplete as another Forward Recon trooper with a fine brush and a set of paints pulled back with a surprised noise at the golem's sudden motion. Shaking a small pot of paint in front of a lens, she told the spirit something vaguely threatening, before going back to work.

Lady Long Legs was one of the ones without an aft turret. It was also the one that had Sandal-Chewer drooling all over its manipulator claws. "Ah, she's not the cargo version?" I asked with a sigh. Crazy demons bonding with killer robots!

"Nah, that's Pall, she's a sweetie," Centurion AlabasterFang pointed to the far end of the line of golems. My suspicion rose immediately as instead of anything lascivious, the cargo Scorpion was done in somber iconography of grey trim, stars, and saints that leaned very hard into the casket-like shape of the golem's main body.

I frowned and very much hoped that no one was using the golem's storage compartments as some sort of battlefield reliquary. On a positive note, the golems were keeping the cats nicely distracted.

Oblivious to my concern, the Forward Region Leader continued. "Lady Long Legs wants to take out anything flying. No offence Ma'am."

That got a few more titters. Even Primus Hood cracked a smile.

"And she doesn't have any missiles loaded in?" I asked. Taking another look at the frame, it seemed like the anti-air version of the Scorpion replaced the Minerva cannon for a quad pack of Vel missiles. It wasn't nothing, but the Legion standby Missile Mule carried twice as many.

"Aye, best to keep her nice and calm," Centurion AlabasterFang laughed. "Between that and the new Sarpedonas you Fly-girls have, I think we'll be quite nicely supported."

I nodded along. I had to accept that the Hoof Sloggers had their favorites when it came to Ritual Plate models. And the whole Demi Wing had gotten replenished in equipment and pilots and even had time to work back up as a unit before deploying for these exercises.

"Even the shippies got some upgrades for the ship's defenses," Lucia noted with approval. As much as hoof-sloggers teased shippies, having our ride home not get blown up by the enemy was generally considered a good idea.

"The new evocation close-in intercept system." Caenis brightened at that. "It's Ballista-based, so it doesn't have as much range as the Vel missile batteries and neither is it as cheap to install as a Minerva cannon, but it makes up for it by not being ammo limited. I'm happy they got the power feed bugs worked out and can start putting it into limited service."

With a great deal of self-control, I managed to not correct my fellow Squadron Commander in front of subordinates. Evocation projectors did not require a constant supply of bullets or missiles. What they did require was a constant supply of Ritualista and spare parts. For all their ammunition independence, they had an unfortunate lack of reliability and high amount of wear that drastically cut down on their lifespan in the field.

However... Caenis was a Harmonia pilot, she knew exactly the lifespan of a Ballista beam emitter.

Maintenance issues such as reliability, robustness, and parts lifespan and cost were why the Scorpions used projectile weapons instead of evocation beams. Even Luxon, a force that invested heavily in beam-based weapons on ground combat platforms, gave their Bastet golems a pair of heavy machine guns as their anti-infantry and light vehicle weapons. They also served as a backup in case their anti-material evocation weapon had a maintenance casualty-mid combat and as a way to conserve power. The Luxon Anker a larger, and more beam heavy, light-tank sized leonine construct, also retained smoke grenades and a clutch of light missiles that while primarily in anti-air and indirect fire roles could also serve as a backup weapon, at least enough to have the golem break off combat and retreat.

"Having three systems that cover each other's weaknesses will be a good thing. There should be a lot of fruitful testing," I remarked, keeping my cheer in check. A training exercise to validate new hardware and tactics was a near ideal mission, and I would enjoy it while I had it.

"Yes ma'am, there will be much to learn. Now, what's the fourth Scorpion like?" VioletBlood demanded pointing to the other rotary-cannon bearing golem.

"Oh Stephanie is affectionate and eager to please. Well, as long as you sing her to sleep, otherwise you can just feel her hunger rising," Centurion AlabasterFang said. "Don't worry she doesn't care about the lyrics; they're not that smart."

I was not certain if they were smarter than the cats, or if they had imprinted on them as allied predators.

"Yes, few golems appreciate symbolism or themes," Caenis dryly remarked.

"Do the golem wranglers on the Wolf Spider baby their Stilettos this much?" Lucia laughed, amusement slipping past her dour demeanor.

"Probably," Caenis shrugged. "The air combat golems are bigger but more delicate. At least for something that can be shot out of a torpedo tube."

"I wonder about their recon capabilities. Supposedly, they can carry a scrying pod that makes them almost as good as an Occultia, if less veiled I guess. On the other wing, they can't pet a fluffy feline and that is sad," VioletBlood leaned forward to rub Sandal-Chewer's belly, and got licked on for her trouble.

"I'm skeptical too, but that is why both our ship and the Wolf have a pair of Occultia," Caenis agreed, quite happy to no longer be hosting the Flight of Fleet Pilots that we had on the last mission. "Plenty of training on using different scrying spotters, and spotting for things like RP, bombers, and the Stilettos."

"And with four Occultia we can almost keep a persistent long range scrying capability up and running," I added. That was a generous commitment of a rare RP platform, but these exercises were a necessary evaluation.

"Good to know," Lulu shook her head as she let go of the gurney and the Vs took over. "But I think I like these better. Blame my little sister, or our family friend Nina. Both would rather like these girls, though would prefer if they were more spider-like."

"Our Arachne artillery golem got the spider name," AlabasterFang pointed out. An older piece, the Arachne was in many roles being supplanted by the Athena self-propelled gun, but the golem was still the lightest 4.9 in artillery piece in the inventory. And for an airborne force weight was always a key factor.

"There can be more than one type of spider golem," Lucia pouted as she pulled her wings in close and curled her tail.

For once, not cursing high heels, I stretched up and put a wing around my subordinate's armored shoulders. Her tail briefly wrapped around my legs.

The gesture seemed to help the dark-haired woman and we resumed our procession toward the bow of the ship. Behind us, the Forward Recon Legionaries resumed chatting with their new charges. I was happy to see that they were still talking to the Missile Mules and other golems.

Sulky spirits could be a real challenge. I made a mental note to talk to Gibbs and have someone check on those golems.

Passing through the forward set of doors, I was hit by the familiar scents of incense, lapping compound, charged evocation flasks, and fresh coffee.

The pilots and Ritualista of Third Squadron stopped and looked at the gurney. Gibbs paused in her work and motioned for the other maintainers who were at a critical step to continue their work. There were some maintenance processes, such as ordnance or power-cell unloading or power that were best not to interrupt midway though.

I immediately noted that the other three members of Lucia's Flight were here.

The replacement, BlackStar, looked up and her too-keen eyes widened in realization at the masks on the gurney.

Lucia reverently picked up the Polyxo mask and held it before her.

I nodded to Visha and she and VioletBlood followed Caenis to the next compartment forward. They had three more Squadrons to make grim deliveries to.

Charity, the senior pilot of Lucia's Flight stood with the group projecting maternal stability while Milly in her arming chair reached out. As her Ritualista separated to give her space the vivacious blonde's smile cracked as her fingers brushed her lover's battered mask.

Centurion Janice BlackStar stood mute. I knew from the colonial's service record that this was not the first mask repatriation she had witnessed. She had been stationed near our Up Spine border with Elena.

She had integrated into the Squadron quite well these last two months. BlackStar had proven to be quite devious at devising training missions that were properly challenging and instructive for pilots of Second and Fourth Squadrons with their upgraded Sarpedona suits. It almost made her bringing that DarkStar-cursed doll of hers along worth it.

"Was... was this it?" Milly asked me, blinking her eyes, her tail drooping. Her Flight Leader gingerly transferred the faceplate into her arms.

"General HighTown said the other... 'grave goods' were being returned to our embassy. They will send us a full inventory," I added, burying a wince at how clinical it all sounded.

Watching silently, BlackStar had moved near one of the tool chests mounted on a bulkhead. On the chest's side was a little chair where that accursed doll had been strapped in complete with a little tin teacup glued to the chair's arm. I was initially happy to realize the doll was dressed in a flight suit, instead of that pink princess gown, but then I realized that meant that someone had brought a whole mess of outfits for the doll.

"You know how Elena is about masks," Lucia said.

Milly gave a bitter laugh. "Oh yes, I know all about that."

Lucia shuffled awkwardly on her hooves. "I..."

The last latches on her armor released and Milly's chief Ritualista helped out of her armor and onto her feet. Another maintainer handed her back the mask and a third waved a censer to help keep Milly's Zephyr from getting too excited.

"Oh, it's not your fault, Lulu." Milly took her friend's hand.

Squeezing in return, Lucia exhaled. "That doesn't exactly make it better. It's not..." Words failed her as she just shook her head, tail limp.

"Fair? Maybe scrupulously fair. But it's quite unkind," Milly turned her lover's mask around in her hands before she looked at me. "Thank you, Prefect. I know meeting someone like General HighTown is... intimidating."

"Was the Ace of the Sky like they make her out in the stories?" BlackStar asked.

"Worse. She is a force of nature," I stated and I found my own rhetorical skills failing. I could have gone to the dashing Imperial Heroine and said it was my duty to meet the sinister enemy ace and bring back our honored dead. But no one in this room was a greenhorn. Not really, even the noble brats and the too-keen replacement who still all still looked at me with stars in their eyes knew the blunt reality.

"And she wanted to make friends," I finally added, shivering not since I fought the War Mistress five years ago, had I felt in such pernicious danger. Death was one thing, but I was not afraid of HighTower killing me... "She knew the risks of engaging in hostilities with us, here and now. That we would have made preparations for it, that there would have been repercussions, but she just.. didn't care.

"She almost went along with it anyways." I bit my thumb, fangs breaking the skin, "If anything, it was only the prospect of seeing my future wedding arrangements, of all things, that pulled her talons back. If it hadn't been for that..."

That managed to lower the mood in the room further. The awkward silence that followed lingered for a full minute with only the sounds of Ritualista quietly at work,

It was a relief when the primary circuit chimed and the overhead speakers abounded. "Teleport Warning. Teleport Warning. All hands prepare for Teleport. Secure all equipment and safe all arcane systems."

I exhaled. At least now Portage and Elenese schemes would be behind me.

End Chapter 3 of Book 3

Apologies for the delay. As you can see this chapter ended up rather large. Normally I would have split it, but the structure (with HighTown's scene in the very middle, made it awkward to separate in a clean way)

Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, PonKatt, ScarletFox, and Lisafication for checking and editing this whole work and putting in all the effort to clean up the story. Special Thanks to PonKatt for ideas on the Scorpion's noseart, and to the LD discord for coming up with names for them as a group effort.

Chapter 4 has been written and is being edited. And the bulk of ch5 has been written (at 9k words). This crop of chapters is running a bit longer, but has proven a bit harder to split.

 

[Simonbob]

..... Misunderstanding field.

That's even more powerful than ever before!


And dammed funny, too.