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

[Sunshine Temple]

Well, that lunch date sure was interrupted by everyone short of the demon's main deity. Poor Tanya

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Heh, though one day that may just happen.
*DarkStar drops in and starts eating Tauria's lunch*

Also I'm not sure if it's just something I've forgotten but what is the source of Tanya's religious devotion here? As whilst calling her outright anti theistic is an exaggeration unless Being X was harsher than in canon, I can't see her as anything but neutrally respectful to the whole institution of faith invested in forces that are properly entities and it's practitioners.

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You are correct, Tanya (at least the manga version) was always respectful and fond of the nuns who raised her.

Here Taurai is even closer to Clementia, and that did have the state of that respect to it.

The respect grew in many ways as Tauria found herself playing the role of the pious War Heroine.

As that is one thing that Salaryman, Tanya, and Tauria are big on: adhering to social conventions and expectations.

 

[Rymu]

The respect grew in many ways as Tauria found herself playing the role of the pious War Heroine.

As that is one thing that Salaryman, Tanya, and Tauria are big on: adhering to social conventions and expectations.

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That much is perfectly in character for Tanya as I understand her, as she pulled it off in her canon 2nd life. Albeit it was partially due to the T95's everything and partially due to the fact she liked to shittalk Being X whilst at church. However it's really not what you've got written in this fic. As here she seems genuinely pious to the point where she's comforted by doing the caretaking for the little church she's responsible for and has an interest in a relic that has no motive besides being in awe of a relic.

I'm not gonna say a genuinely pious Tanya is impossible. It's just that I don't think one is likely without an active benefactor who is in direct communication with Tanya over her issues after Being X is gone. And I don't think this fic has really earned such character development for Tanya from what I can remember and what you're stating here. For DarkStar is explicitly missing and Tanya has only some maybe miracles to her name.

There's a snippet on the SB YS fic thread that has a pretty good start to a Tanya being on good terms with a deity but it takes a haggled over 3rd life setup that she was getting as compensation for Being X's shit anyways and a boon to counter some bad luck to get Tanya to start doing dinner prayers after initially promising herself that she'd just do something like a prayer or two a year as a sort of thank you card and maybe considering finding money on the ground to be something to thank the deity for.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

That much is perfectly in character for Tanya as I understand her, as she pulled it off in her canon 2nd life. Albeit it was partially due to the T95's everything and partially due to the fact she liked to shittalk Being X whilst at church. However it's really not what you've got written in this fic. As here she seems genuinely pious to the point where she's comforted by doing the caretaking for the little church she's responsible for and has an interest in a relic that has no motive besides being in awe of a relic.

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That she was doing it because she, correctly, knew it would please her mother, is kind of a major factor. And Tauria would have a historical interest, and again her mother has an interest in it, not to mention said relics do give her political power (with strings attached)

I'm not gonna say a genuinely pious Tanya is impossible. It's just that I don't think one is likely without an active benefactor who is in direct communication with Tanya over her issues after Being X is gone. And I don't think this fic has really earned such character development for Tanya from what I can remember and what you're stating here. For DarkStar is explicitly missing and Tanya has only some maybe miracles to her name.

There's a snippet on the SB YS fic thread that has a pretty good start to a Tanya being on good terms with a deity but it takes a haggled over 3rd life setup that she was getting as compensation for Being X's shit anyways and a boon to counter some bad luck to get Tanya to start doing dinner prayers after initially promising herself that she'd just do something like a prayer or two a year as a sort of thank you card and maybe considering finding money on the ground to be something to thank the deity for.

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I would have thought that amount of character growth and the relationship with her mother, would have at least had Tauria have a respect for the religion she has a very strong comforting familiarity with.

And one that she routinely wears a mask of to play the role of piety.

oh well.

 

[Rymu]

That she was doing it because she, correctly, knew it would please her mother, is kind of a major factor. And Tauria would have a historical interest, and again her mother has an interest in it, not to mention said relics do give her political power (with strings attached)

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This pragmatic edge or justification (or really any justifications) doesn't show up in the text all too strongly though. Tanya is very opinionated in her head, and whilst her justifications here are the right deflections they're much too weak and token.

I would have thought that amount of character growth and the relationship with her mother, would have at least had Tauria have a respect for the religion she has a very strong comforting familiarity with.

And one that she routinely wears a mask of to play the role of piety.

oh well.

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Respecting the religion and playing a role is different from being actually faithful. Which her actions are leaning more towards than I'd say is warranted given that Darkstar is notably absent and Uriel's influence began and ended in the prologue. Tanya knows that entities can be help or actively oppose her, but Darkstar is repeatedly noted to be absent. Tanya wouldn't take that sort of thing very kindly given her interactions with Being X but pragmatically might consider justifying anything beyond what she needs for her masks as building up stock in the event she does turn up.

 

[ScarletFox]

This pragmatic edge or justification (or really any justifications) doesn't show up in the text all too strongly though. Tanya is very opinionated in her head, and whilst her justifications here are the right deflections they're much too weak and token.

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Doesn't it though? It is pointed out that she doesn't even believe she'll receive an answer from the notably absent Daughter. The ritual and rites are something that in her first life would have been common with the Japanese Salaryman. Lots of ceremonies to do at various shrines and all. As much as the Japanese are not very religious themselves, they tend to fall over themselves in tradition. And in this life, the traditions dictate to her to do some performative prayer, and she's even taken up the Miko role of cleaning the chapel. Tauria using these rites as a gainful distraction to being suddenly thrust into a political situation she isn't nearly prepared for in what was supposed to be a nice holiday seems pretty on point.

That others see her (including you it seems) as very committed to the religion are kind of the point. Even if Tauria is more committed to it than she would like to admit due to being brought in the Church instead of a less theistic space, she still believes herself to be using this 'religion' as a shield, and to appear 'normal' as she thinks to define it.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Doesn't it though? It is pointed out that she doesn't even believe she'll receive an answer from the notably absent Daughter. The ritual and rites are something that in her first life would have been common with the Japanese Salaryman. Lots of ceremonies to do at various shrines and all. As much as the Japanese are not very religious themselves, they tend to fall over themselves in tradition. And in this life, the traditions dictate to her to do some performative prayer, and she's even taken up the Miko role of cleaning the chapel. Tauria using these rites as a gainful distraction to being suddenly thrust into a political situation she isn't nearly prepared for in what was supposed to be a nice holiday seems pretty on point.

That others see her (including you it seems) as very committed to the religion are kind of the point. Even if Tauria is more committed to it than she would like to admit due to being brought in the Church instead of a less theistic space, she still believes herself to be using this 'religion' as a shield, and to appear 'normal' as she thinks to define it.

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Yah, my intent was to have Tauria take a common contemporary Japanese view to things like Shinto ceremonies and the like. She may not think she fully believes, but she does respect the cultural traditions and rites.

And as you note, how Tauria thinks of things, is one thing, but how people see her is another. Especially as with most people she doesn't go "Oh I don't believe in DarkStar!" and even her protests to her lack of piousness come off as massive humility

 

[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.

Chapter 35: Cracking Facade

"I'm helping!" the little fox girl cried as she ran down the cavernous kitchen, a basket of eggs precariously held just above her head, close enough for the tips of her silver-furred ears to brush its wicker bottom.

Her fluffy little tail swayed happily as a pack of kits scrambled after her. Their eyes all focused on the pile of brown eggs heaped in the basket.

"Phalia! You be careful!" cried Brabant, my driver and seamstress, as she raced after her speeding daughter and the rest of the litter.

Looking up from the long counter, I began to muster up my professional dignity, preparing to commit myself to helping my driver calm the fracas. My heart, perhaps, wasn't quite in it; my tail was swishing with open amusement.

"Does she need any help?" I asked Reinhild, who hadn't looked up from the recipe book as Phalia darted past. She was far too occupied in measuring out the appropriate amount of sifted flour without packing the stuff down to the point that more sifting would be required.

"My niece can handle it," my head maid remarked, her own tails and ears swiveling to and fro as she tracked the kits racing around the door to the cheese cave and then back up one of the kitchen's two main aisles.

The manor house's kitchens were a large but functional affair that butted up kitty-corner to the manor house proper and made part of one side of the compound's central courtyard, and had it right by the servant's quarters and their mess hall. Almost an annex in its own right, the kitchens were an obvious addition but built with space for chimneys, pantries, cold storage rooms, smokehouses, prep tables, and more.

As both required considerable water and heat, the kitchens were directly adjacent to the bathhouse. Surprisingly, the baths were quite well-appointed and required only a little work to get back to full functionality, with only the heaters of the steam room providing any real trouble. Trouble that was very much worth the… well, trouble.

Even I had to admit that taking a dip in the progression of baths, starting from warm water, then going to steam, and then cold water was relaxing. If the baths themselves failed to leach away all of my tension, there was always the small tepidarium with its massage tables. Conventions of physical contact aside, I preferred the occasional massage of my weary shoulders, executed to perfection by a gloved kitsune, to mucking about with all of the traditional oil and scrappers. Neither of which, it turned out, worked particularly well on my feathered wings.

Baths aside, the kitchen rooms represented a pleasant intersection of pragmatism and aesthetics. While built with an undeniable eye towards efficiency, the multi-roomed suite remained rather airy and well-lit. Altogether, the kitchen reminded me of a more tasteful and luxurious version of my old orphanage's kitchen, somehow crossed with the pragmatic, yet expansive, floorplan of a large barracks cafeteria. Not at all like the cramped confines of a ship's galley, where every spare square foot was worth its weight in gold. Regardless of the architectural slight against the Fleet, the kitchen remained a functional space intended to make food assembly and prep into an efficient process.

While the low demands of many slow years had left the kitchens cold, the sudden repopulation of the estate had stoked the fires of its many ovens anew, and now all were operating at full activity. The busyness of the situation was in no way diminished by the pack of rambunctious young kitsune kits rampaging underfoot.

"We do need those eggs," Mother Clementia said, her slight frown at odds with her own swishing tail. Like the rest of us, she wore an apron over her clothes and had changed into a more plain habit. She had been cubing fruit, periodically transporting the chunks into a juice press where a kit waited eagerly for the opportunity to squeeze all of the juice into a waiting bowl.

"I'm getting them closer!" Brabant shouted from across the kitchens. The other servants and the hired cooks looked up and, wisely, stepped back from the line of fire.

A trio of local girls who were here for the day to help with the dinner party laughingly encouraged the kitsune to run even faster as the kits sprinted past their butcher's blocks. The dark-haired sisters raised their knives in salute to the runners, a gorey honor-guard with bloody tribute, before going back to dismembering a swine.

"I have the eggs! I am bringing them!" Phalia cried as she shook the basket. One of the brown eggs slipped from the basket, but before it could hit the tile floor, the rest of the litter had pounced. The kits scrambled and pounced on each other, contending for the speckled brown treasure that danced precariously from paw to clutching paw.

Without looking back at the chaos in her wake, Phalia continued on with Orphic concentration and solemnity, her stumbling sprint meandering towards us. Half of the kits rose from the fracas to follow her while three of the little ones fought over the spoils of war.

Brabant seemed torn between breaking up the tussle and following her daughter who most assuredly would deliver the eggs to us, and was not about to abscond with a veritable treasure haul.

"A bit of help, Uwe?" Reinhild asked the silver-furred fox, appearing at her shoulder with a look of ever present quiet concern that seemed oddly familiar.

Uwe, who, like Mother Clementia, wore an apron over a sleek uniform that was closer to Brabant's chauffeur pants and collared tunic combination than his cousin's maid uniform, nodded. "As you wish." Uwe turned to me with a tilt of the head. "Shall I give the little delinquents a thrashing, my Lady?"

I looked up at the towering older kitsune and gave him a baleful stare through narrowed eyes. "Phalia is doing as we bid her."

"She is dilly dallying and running all around the kitchens," Reinhild observed while Clementia put a hand over her mouth, poorly hiding the smile threatening to overtake it. "She's certainly doing something, but helping…? And, even if she is, what about the rest?"

"Perhaps give the other little ones some tasks," I offered as Phalia ran towards us, now proudly thrusting the basket before her. "There's vegetables to peel or if they want eggs, there will be a boiled and curried dish made for the gustatio course."

Uwe clicked his heels before bowing in a way that made my hackles rise and my tail stiffen. It had to be a coincidence that VioletBlood had found a Germanic family of kitsune to be my personal servants.

It had to be.

Moving to take care of the quarrelsome kits, Uwe stepped to one side to let the flouncing procession pass. Despite one having gotten the egg into her mouth, her compatriots were still trying to claim the prize.

"Countess, I brought the eggs!" Phalia claimed as she almost rammed the basket into my side. "Now make the melonbread! Please!"

"Shall I have them get the sugar?" Reinhild inquired, her expression utterly deadpan.

Horror crossed my face, both at the mental image of the kits – heads crammed fully into bags of confectioner's sugar, frosted faces tearing open the cans of cane sugar, and the resulting chaos – and at the more immediate concerns of trying to grab and secure a basket that had been clumsily thrust out into space far from my waiting hands.

"Thank you, but maybe you can get that Reinhild; you know the kind of sugar we'll need for the recipe. Brabant, can you have the other kits go with Uwe? I believe he has something fun for them to help with as well."

The two fox maids nodded while Phalia stomped a foot. "What about me?"

I gave her a smile as I put the basket on the counter. "Since you brought the eggs, you can help us make the sugared melon bread."

At that, Clementia gave me a smile. I shrugged a quick reply in return. Soon enough, there would be far more little ones in the manor house: my nieces, girls from the orphanage, and Visha's own little sisters.

"Does it have real melon?" Phalia asked as she tried to peer up onto the counter, thwarted by her diminutive height. I could keenly sympathize with her clear frustration.

"No," I said, before catching myself and looking around for an apple box for the kit to stand on.

Clementia gave me a questioning look. She had spent the last half hour filling a rather large bowl with fresh melon juice.

'Oh… right," I bit back a grimace, focusing on finding an apple crate the girl could use as a step stool to help bury my momentary embarrassment, "Yes, sorry Phalia. This bread does use winter-melons. I got it confused with another recipe."

"Which one?" she asked after stepping up to survey the readied ingredients, mixing bowls, and platters.

"Another bread recipe?" Clementia asked.

"What's it called?" the kit demanded, brimming with the boundless curiosity of youth.

I hesitated as Reinhild returned with the sugar and the rest of the recipe's ingredients. "Melonpan," I admitted; there was no need for secrecy. My preference for Paymorish and other Japanese inspired culinary styles was already well-known.

"Does that one have melons?" the young fox asked.

"Yes, does it?" Reinhild inquired.

"Uh.... no," I admitted as I double-checked the recipe and started cracking eggs to add to the flour Mother had already portioned out.

"Then why's it called melon... um... pam?" Phalia asked. The other two women looked at me with similar questions.

"Pan," I corrected softly, "and it has to do with how the top of the buns are scored. Reinhild, can you add the sugar?"

Phalia tilted her head, ears perking up. "The tops?"

"I'll show you." I offered once the batter was made. It was a rather large amount, but it could be portioned out, and we could each knead part of it. That would be okay, right?

"Oh, we'll make double melonbread?" Phalia cheered.

"I suppose we will," I agreed with a smile, and started instructing Phalia on how to kneed her portion.

The work passed easily, but Phalia seemed impatient when it came time to let the dough rest. Her tail flicked as she tried to will the bread to rise faster in the two large towel-covered bowls.

"We can help make the sugar frosting," I offered, which seemed to perk her up. I even took the risk of letting her lick the spatula once the frosting was ready.

The end result was a very giddy kitsune who was eager to run off to the rest of the litter and brag about her experience, and likely to snag some more eggs along the way. I did tell her that she would need to come back when it was time to make the buns so she could score the tops in the crisscross pattern that gave melonpan its name.

Reinhild smiled as she watched the girl leave. "You don't have to stay either, Ma'am. We've got plenty of help, and will be ready for the dinner."

"I'm not underfoot am I?" I quietly asked.

The maid shook her head. "You're fine, and... this is helping you?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"I'm not that nervous." I caught myself as my tail curled. "This is the first formal event I will attend as the countess of this county, and between showing myself off, I have to convince all the town movers and shakers that I will listen to their problems and find some solution for this whole railway thing. Nothing to be nervous about at all."

"It is a good thing you're doing," Mother Clementia said. "What about your Vs? Perhaps they could help occupy your time?"

I shook my head dismissing thoughts on if mother had a not-so-hidden meaning to her statement. "But then I'd be in their way."

Clementia looked to Reinhild. "They're busy?"

"Yes, Sister. Baroness VioletBlood is organizing things like the decorations, tables, chairs, and, oh yes, the drinks and refreshments."

"And Visha's making sure the grounds are set, with the garages and stables and the like," I said, thankful for their help.

Clementia smiled, violet eyes shining with pride. "You've done so well."

"I mean it's just organizing a big party; I've faced worse," I assured.

"I know, but that's..." Clementia slowly pulled me into a soft and warm embrace. "I'm just happy you've found such wonderful people in your life, people who make you happy."

I purred a bit and moved my own arms. I could feel my maid's light amusement and then heard the scrambling of little feet.

"I'm not too late am I?" Phalia said as she came running back, tail madly wagging.

"Oh no," I assured, pulling myself from Mother Clementia's arms, and ignoring the brief pang of loss that came with it. Like dragging oneself from a comfortable bed on a cold morning, some sacrifices had to be made.

The young fox climbed up onto the applebox. "Is it time to make the melon bread? Can I spread the sugar on it?"

I gave the young kit a soft sigh and ruffled her hair. "Why not?"

+++++

"Thank you for coming; it was wonderful to have you over," crooned VioletBlood in the voice ubiquitous to hostesses of a certain class as she waved a smiling farewell to an exiting councilwoman from her station at the front doors of my manor house.

Said front entrance opened through large double doors onto a fair-sized courtyard thankfully enclosed from the weather. Glassed over by the buildings surrounding it, the courtyard sported the requisite fountain which stood proud in the center of the circular drive that promenaded into and out from the mostly symbolic gatehouse standing opposite the main doors. Flanking the courtyard to the gatehouse's left were the main kitchens, servants' quarters, storage rooms, and some of the guest accommodations. Opposite that stretch of utility buildings were the mostly disused stables, the garages, and a connecting portico with a spur leading to the chapel.

Fortunately, the sky beyond the glass had cleared as the sun went down, and while the night was crisp, there was no rain and, if the windsock up on the rooftop were any indication, little wind, thus affording a view from the courtyard of the handful of stars, moons, and glittering planets capable of overcoming the light streaming from the windows of the main house.

Not that any rain or wind would have mattered to my guests, not under the aegis offered by the finest products of Bovitar's glassworks. I'd even managed to acquire some freshly installed replacement panes, but the fair weather meant everyone was able to make it here in time regardless. The column of cars and carriages lining the courtyard had steadily decreased as the night wound down and our guests had taken their leave.

"It was a wonderful evening!" the councilwoman enthused, with an aristocratic affection gamely trying to match VioletBlood's own. "You simply must tell me where you got that mulsum you served! The wine half was sweeter than I was frankly expecting, while still remaining adequately musky, but it went well with the honey half. Were the bees that made it fed on lilacs?"

"Oh, that must be the bottle at promulsis?" VioletBlood asked as if she hadn't committed the wine list to memory hours in advance, referring to the first course of the night. It was less of a formal course and more of a cocktail hour where guests could mingle and get to know each other before taking their reclined seats in preparation for the meal service.

"That delightful vintage is actually from Mursam! We brought it back after serving the Imperatrix, and, yes, I understand that the vinters use only local grapes and honey. The honey is actually from the same winery, you know! Quite synergistic, a vineyard with an in-house apiary. I'm sure the bees involved help pollinate the grapes as well as feeding on meadow flowers or something equally pastoral." On that dismissive note, VioletBlood waved away her self-manufactured cloud of trivia before favoring the councilwoman with a bright and conspiratorial smile that radiated pointed sincerity against the local society matron's manufactured joy. "Though, that is also the vineyard where my Countess gets her vinewood rods, you know..."

I gave my fiancee a quelling glare. Predictably, it bounced off VioletBlood's armor of impervious, and imperious, confidence without leaving a mark, much like said rods.

"Oh, to be a young and discipline-minded centurion! Countess, your fiancee is a lovely young woman, don't keep her on too tight of a leash," the councilwoman gushed, her tone unctuous as she turned from me back to LoveBlood. I thought I detected a note of relief in her voice at an excuse to shy away from the Baroness's fixed and pointed enthusiasm. "The first table was very… hearty, and the wassail and sugared melon-bread were a delightful end to the night! You have shown such a youthful and yet utilitarian meal. And such an adorable crisscross pattern on top of the bread!"

Adorable? Adorable...!

"I am very proud of her," I said, smiling pleasantly and very much not gritting my teeth as VioletBlood squeezed herself closer to me. The petticoats to my redhead's gown threatened to consume me, not to mention the way her lacy top was overflowing my arm. It was a good distraction to pull my mind away from the indignant fury blossoming in my chest.

Visha stood on my other side in a sleek evening dress with a velvet bodice and matching vest. While she did not cling limpet-like to me, her posing and warm smile made it obvious that she was playing up her part as well.

Loath to disappoint my Vs, I tried to keep the charm up as well, forcing joviality into my voice with all the coercion of a pistol's snubbed nose grinding into the back of a skull. "It was just fantastic to have you over for our little soiree, Madam Councilor. Hopefully, we can move forward with less… unpleasantness."

"Less unpleasantness?" the councilwoman mouthed, not quite giving voice to her incredulity. Despite this, the intent of her message was clear as she turned to give the drow matriarch's waiting carriage a meaningful look. With its heavy curtains pulled tight even now, well after sunset, the silver and ebony conveyance brooded from its place among the less distinguished carriages lining the courtyard's drive. Between its dark lacquer, the intricate carvings thrumming with enchantments, and the vast cart-spider squatting between its traces, the drow vehicle was unrivaled in its exotically eye-catching appeal.

The spider had come as something of a… surprise. I had never before encountered an arachnid with a shoulder height comparable to a Clydesdale, but light conversation during the reception had informed me that the creature had very good traction on the cold ground. Besides, I had been assured, the breed's vigor in the winter weather, as well as its great size, was proof that the steed had vanishingly little in common with lesser spiders, and that attacks by properly attended cart-spiders on sapients were quite rare. Despite all that, the draft animal remained an eight-legged horror whose fangs and eight glittering eyes endowed its large abdomen with an unmistakable menace a match for the carriage it pulled.

"Oh, Lady Silk is adorable," Visha gushed. "The grooms were spoiling her during the dinner. Her driver even let the kits ride her!"

I blinked at the mental image of young kitsune riding the giant spider-creature. "Did anyone get pictures?" I asked.

"I certainly hope they did!" the councilwoman laughed, with what sounded like genuine sincerity. Maybe she found the giant man-eating spiders cute? Well, it shouldn't come as a terrible shock to me that these crazy cannibal demons found common cause with enormous arachnids. "It would be a most amusing sight, a fox atop a spider! Ah, I suppose we should count ourselves blessed that the drow are so… cooperative."

"It's all about finding the right incentives," I stated, recalling the huntress RainsFord Songstress's ominous assertions.

But, those were neither here nor there, and I still had my role to play. So, I bowed my horns and smiled again at the politico. "Thank you for your own cooperation; I am trying my best to accomplish as much as I can with the limited time I have here. Your assistance is greatly appreciated."

"As is your humility, a match for the humility of your other mother." The councilwoman's expression softened, perhaps in a moment of rare sincerity, as she looked up at Mother Clementia, who was also seeing off people.

"Indeed, Countess," the councilwoman continued bowing her horns to us and looked up at the manor house. Just inside, the household staff, minus the valets and grooms of course, and my own maids, were lined up, having seen the guests out. "It does seem that you have taken our Duchess's teachings well."

"I try," I said, affecting a casual air. After coming back from the county seat, the afternoon and evening had been a hectic storm of preparations for a party of merely a couple dozen. Calibrating just the right level of luxury had been very trying, as I had to consider my own social, religious, and military status, not to mention the same of all my guests.

Thankfully, I'd had all the help that could be offered by the combined forces of Reinhild, Alexi, my sister, VioletBlood, and of course, an entire troop of servants.

"So, I believe congratulations are in order for your achievement in creating a more... accessible fare," the councilwoman said, returning to form with an insult poorly hidden behind honeyed words. "It should certainly put our more… down to earth guests at ease," she added before going to her own motorcar. "Tah, Countess!"

Much as a caustic retort bubbled up in my throat, I held my tongue with an ease of practice born from many meetings with Upper Management. Be the hierarchy corporate or military, one didn't climb far up it if they snapped at every petty insult or obstinate buffoon. If nothing else, you'd quickly run out of time to get anything else done. Though, by the way VioletBlood squeezed my arms, I could tell my Baroness was only barely holding herself back from making a comment about county councilwomen who put on airs by using county assets to ape at having a personal driver and towncar. I should be happy that my fiancee had decided to not take Offense at the other woman's actions and challenged her here and now.

"It's almost over," Visha murmured behind a bright, somewhat glassy smile.

I nodded, drew renewed energy from the prospect that soon the night would be over, and returned to the task of seeing the last of the guests out. Soon, thankfully, the drive around the fountain would stand empty and I could wipe the forced smile from my face and collapse into bed. Though, I knew that was a lie.

"Bad form," VioletBlood murmured disdainfully from behind a bright smile once the councilwoman's, or more accurately the county's, motorcar began to drive off. "But what can one expect from a jumped up tally-woman, whose sole qualification is her skill at selling empty platitudes to nervous guilders? Not to mention, her accomplishments in lording over her lessers from the palisade of her out-of-date dresses and gaudy vanity glasses."

Visha put a hand over her mouth and managed to keep her tail from swishing too much.

I simply raised an eyebrow.

Reading my skeptical attitude, LoveBlood purred. "I have standards, my Countess. It's poor sport to badmouth those who aren't players in the great game and shows a lack of imagination in the art of cutting remarks."

"Does it now…?" I replied slowly, still more than a little suspicious of her sudden antipathy for the councilor, given what I knew of my Baroness's habits.

"Of course!" she insisted energetically, wings puffing up in her fervor, "Why, it'd be like claiming oneself to be a great game hunter, when all one ever does is shoot squirrels with a lance battery! What kind of lady could take pride in merely crushing rodents under foot when any true demoness knows that our glory lies in the skies? Indulging in petty cruelties is a weakness of character! Such munitions should be spared for deserving targets."

"Fair enough," I said, acceding to her superior social acumen and bowing my horns.

Stepping backwards as we continued to wave our last goodbyes, the tall wooden double doors came to a thumping close, shielding us from the night and whatever strays might still be lingering in the courtyard. Turning around, I faced the foyer where the servants waited. I frowned, not seeing Mother or Lares, but pressed on. Their absence was no reason to be rude to the staff or to hold them to their stations after a tiresome evening. "Good job everyone. I think we survived that dinner party."

For a moment, I hesitated, wires forged across several all too different yet all too similar lifetimes crossed awkwardly, and I nearly curtseyed. Fortunately, before I made a fool of myself, I remembered that I was wearing pants. The dark outfit with its matching jacket and vaguely military cut was preferable to a gown, and thankfully my Vs were more than willing to let me wear it.

There was a weary cheer from the staff; thus dismissed, most of them wasted no time and dispersed. Reinhild approached and curtsied. "Ma'ams, if it pleases you, refreshments are waiting in the drawing room."

I felt a bit ill. Despite the meal only having two official courses, first table and second table, there had also been two appetizers, the aforementioned light refreshments whilst mingling of the promulsis and then the gustatio enjoyed while I reclined with my Vs playing full hostess. Not to mention the soup and dessert courses. The idea of eating still more food seemed like a gluttonous indulgence at this point, and might actually risk the buttons on my jacket.

"Lead on," VioletBlood said before I could find a way out of Reinhild's thoughtfulness, taking my arm and wrapping her tail around mine. Clearly, she had her own hedonistic ideas of a nightcap and my presence was integral in them.

Forming a small procession, we went down the hallway and past the dining room, where a handful of waitresses were still bussing away plates, serving trays, and glasses.

Gibbs was waiting by the drawing room door, sipping from a small glass of a familiar dark red liquor. She and the other Ritualista had found very logical, sensible, but ultimately, polite, excuses to avoid the dinner party. However, demonstrating the true wisdom of the Optio Syndicate, they had most assuredly managed to finagle helpings of the same food and drink being served at the party they had so neatly dodged.

I did not begrudge them their good fortune; exemption from such dog and hellpony shows was a cherished treat in the Legions, and one they had more than earned.

"How was your evening?" I asked after waving off her salute.

"High-quality food eaten in peace and quiet almost makes up for dealing with your sister flouncing around my fruit cellar," Gibbs replied acerbically, "almost..."

I let the "my" comment slide and focused on the issue at hand. "RedWing didn't take apart any of the suits, did she?"

Years of long-suffering experience with officer peccadilloes and noble eccentricities went into a single sour expression that twisted across Gibbs's lean face. "Barely."

"Oh?" I reluctantly pressed, really not wanting to hear more while feeling like it was my duty to handle the situation now, before any real discontent could bite.

"Doctrix RedWing has, at the very least, a lick of sense in her head. No full tear downs or daft demands, but damned if your sister wasn't prying and poking into anything that didn't 'technically' cross any red lines," Gibbs groused. "I have enough work on my plate already with certifying a trio of suits, not to mention making them ready for a new refit standard. The new power systems are an improvement but MuArc made changes to the operating procedures. I don't have time to indulge anybody's curiosity."

"I'll have a word with her," I assured.

Gibbs managed to make taking a sip from her glass express skepticism about how efficacious my word would be.

"At least you're no longer complaining about how your mask is still being worked on," VioletBlood offered.

I looked up at her and narrowed my eyes. The redhead's tail stilled. Visha preemptively and unfairly winced. "I do not complain," I firmly stated. "Besides, I have been quite patient. Progress is being made! Honestas and SapphireFiligree finished their work! Surely,MuArc must nearly be done performing the final calibrations needed for the fitting. It will be sent here soon, I'm sure of it! It must be. I need that mask here, I can't have just two active suits! I mean... I want to fly too."

Part of me was idly curious as to how Honestas had repaired my mask. The cracks were numerous and wide. But part of me was just as worried that the repairs would be gaudy or simply smooth the faceplate over. Honestly, I wasn't sure which would be worse.

"We can wait for you. It is frustrating, but isn't it part of some early holiday present?" Visha added soothingly, sensing my disquiet.

"It's not that hard," Gibbs murmured, not particularly helpfully. "The cosmetic parts of the face-plate shouldn't have much effect on the instrumentation, display, and survival systems. I could do the calibration tests and set up the flight trials myself."

She was right. Why was I getting so worked up about a mere cosmetic affectation? It was just a mask.

"And I could help," Doctrix RedWing declared as she glided towards us, her purple gown swishing and bobbing.

"Ma'am," Gibbs said, using that word as a shield deployed by lower ranks against their superiors since time immemorial.

Caught up in the professor's silken wake was someone in that awkward age that bridged the gulf between older broodlings and young women. She had curly pastel red hair, light purple skin, and elegant wings with extra glossy dark blue feathers that fanned out behind her.

As we both used the same shampoo and wing-care regimen, I could do little to fault the young lady's grooming habits. Her wings certainly didn't measure up to the likes of Fabia's, or even Invidia's lustrous coat, but given the girl's youth I suppose that was to be expected.

The woman's green eyes practically glowed with a haughty intensity that mostly covered her apprehension. The family resemblance between Lady LavenderFang and Baroness VioletBlood was blatantly obvious.

"Cousin," VioletBlood smiled as she pulled herself closer to me.

I kept my irritation to myself. While I could understand LoveBlood's pride, which was one of her defining features, it was somewhat... unseemly for my fiancee to lord her relationship status over to someone several years her junior. Especially as she had done the same thing only hours before when LavenderFang had arrived at the estate.

"Cousin. Countess," LavenderFang bowed her horns to us.

"Are we going to chew the tallow out here or will we withdraw to the drawing room?" RedWing inquired.

Diffidently, Reinhild stepped aside and opened the door into the drawing room, revealing an intimate interior, especially when compared to the cavernous dining room. The room was cosy with a collection of low tables, comfortable leather chairs, and shelves partially full of books and curios. The emptied shelves were enough to show that the previous Countess of Larium had taken a few of her favorite books and knick-knacks with her before she... vacated the position. Though, it was still a more public-facing place than the manor's study or the reading room in my personal chambers.

Sadly, I had yet to acquire replacement knick-knacks to occupy the shelves. My few decorations were back on Mursam, and what I had brought with me personally barely filled a single shelf in the private writing room adjacent to my personal chambers upstairs. At least the study, with its connected library across the main hall down by the solarium, was serving as a reference and soon-to-be map room.

If I could survive another decade and a half in the Legions to safely retire, this would all be mine... mine to share with my Vs, should I manage to keep them alive through all the hells High Command and fate will demand of us.

I managed well enough with the 203rd during the bloodiest war in that humanity's history to date, I told myself. Technically, House BlackSky isn't even engaged in a proper war yet. We should be fine.

I pointedly avoided thinking about just how much could change in fifteen years, or how I had not personally survived said war.

The fire merrily burning in the drawing room's hearth added enough heat to make the room cozy and pushed back the faint cigar smell from the previous Countesses. For a moment, I had a flashback of smoky rooms full of imperial officers indulging in their vices. Fortunately, while the officers of my current life were hardly unwilling to smoke, due to a demon's more sensitive noses, smoking rooms were generally considered courteous.

Another two maids were already in the room. Their tails flicked as they busied about with a tea service, coffee carafe, liquors, and a platter of petit fours. I had relied on Reinhild and Loveblood to augment my estate with more assistants, and at this point it seemed I had hired something close to Reinhild's whole extended family. They all did good work, and it wasn't as if the manor did not have the space to spare, so having them bring their kits around and give them their own room for the dinner was an appropriate reward.

Sitting in an armchair sized for his frame, I had to admit that Lares looked surprisingly dapper in his pinstriped tunic and tooled belt. He sipped from a teacup that looked like an espresso shot glass in his immense hands and held a tiny plate with an even tinier chocolate pastry added to the image.

Amiably chatting, Mother Clementia sat in a chair across from him. "Hello, daughter. Please come and join us."

A weight lifted from my shoulders as I entered the drawing room.

I sat down on a low-backed loveseat next to mother's chair with my Vs taking their places on either side of me. I stretched my wings a bit to let them hang over the seat-back. The others in the hallway, including my Seneschal Alexi, filed in, the maids flitting around between them and pressing drinks and refreshments into unresisting hands. The informal air of the room was, in part, aided by the light enchantments carved into the hardwood wainscoting, designed to fill the space with an aura of general good-feeling. Even Lares seemed more at ease in the well-crafted wooden room.

Taking a moment to enjoy the coffee presented before me, I watched as everyone settled down. Only a bare fraction of the people who had been at the dinner had followed me to this gathering in the drawing room, but while those at the dinner had been my guests, these were people I trusted... and also VioletBlood's cousin.

After sipping her herbal bitters and fortified wine digestif, my fiance put down her sherry glass. "I would say that was an informative party, no? I, for one, learned that the ranchers actually have some valid concerns. Thankfully, they also seem amenable to some sort of negotiation. And are eager for shorter drives and quicker transport to market. What will be done to keep livestock from wandering on the tracks, I wonder?"

I frowned at the mental image of a cow evaporating into red mist. "That is a… concern. The cost in lost livestock alone would be far from insignificant without some sort of measures to keep grazing herds well away from the tracks, and that's not even getting into the potential hazards of train accidents."

RedWing crossed her legs. "Your party was a good start, but you should know that the guests only represented certain interests, not the full strata of the county's movers and shakers. Still, whatever they mentioned to you tonight should be good enough to get a sense of the winds. A start, at least."

"I didn't say that I had gleaned a full understanding of all possible complications, but I would say that tonight has certainly put me on the path to that goal," VioletBlood smugly said. "BrightWoods Lumber didn't send anyone tonight for starters, and there's a lot of the larger freeholders whose agendas remain mysterious, but for a first foray we have a good idea of who requires convincing and just what sort of coin they'll need to be paid in. All neatly noted down on my list, and the rest will follow suit soon enough."

I gave a glassy smile. Made with my seneschal's help, "the list" consisted of the five town councilwomen, the sheriff, the newspaper editor, the local church mother, the heads of the major lumber concerns, several of the major local ranchers, the guild mistresses, various village mayors, and some other noteworthies. "And your conclusions?"

"Do you want the maids to bring in the chalkboard from the study so I can put out the whole list? I'll note that we've got a lot more people who are more neutral, or at least willing to be friendly or suck up for proper concessions. Few are hostile to you, but there's more who are worried about the railway."

I rubbed my forehead. "Yes, I picked up on that. The lumber concerns seem inclined to help, but all of the others uniformly want the rail lines to be near their lands while not actually crossing their domains."

"So it goes. People want the convenience of the railroad but without all the noise, loss of land, and potential danger." RedWing sipped her brandy.

"But striking a balance won't be impossible, I think. Given some deft negotiation and perhaps a few incentives spiced with cajoling, we might yet reach a desirable settlement. Or, as My Countess might say, a mutually beneficial arrangement," VioletBlood teased. "But if we do, it will only be after we all put in the work necessary to sort out the notables of your county."

I frowned, wondering what kind of cajoling Lady RainsFord or Miss Crow might get up to if the various residents of Larium County proved intractable.

"My people are skeptical, but today's route change to avoid much of our lands will allay many of their concerns," Lares's sonorous voice intoned.

"But not all of them?" I asked.

"Many would prefer no railroad at all, but we know how industrious your folk are." Lares gave us all a pointedly unimpressed look over his cup. "As compromises go, it could be worse..."

I inclined an inquisitive eyebrow.

My seneschal, Alexi, cleared her throat. "The concern among the Forest People is if they compromise and lease out part of their ancestral lands this one time, then what about ten years down the line? Twenty? Forty?"

"The elders fear that their holdings could be nibbled into nothingness, paper ownership of paper forests, and we will be driven into the mountains... or worse, to the cities," Lares looked into his cup. "Well… I say driven, but I don't think any of us expect it would be so peaceful."

"Meanwhile, the drow won't even pretend to entertain the prospect of being given new lands in compensation," Alexi reminded us.

"Not that I even had lands elsewhere to offer," I sighed.

"Mother does," RedWing stated, grinning at my discomfort. "Not that that helps. No one here is willing to trade relatively green and fertile forested lands for the rocky edges of the Lesser Romwells."

I frowned in thought. "Are they truly that worthless, though? The foothills of the Romwells, I mean. Many places have at least something of value…"

RedWing laughed. "Oh, little sister, Mother has far more fertile lands, but she'd need a reason to offer up anything of any real value to her, wouldn't she?" She paused, a painted nail on her lip as she reconsidered, "Well... maybe she might be willing to sacrifice a few of her choicer fiefs to help you… She can, after all, be quite generous."

The professor's presence was proof enough of that. "No, it's not that. I was thinking. Mountain terrain might just as well have valuable mineral deposits as it could have bedrock too solid to easily excavate and water tables so low that you couldn't flood a wine cellar. I wonder... has anyone done a survey of the stability or depth of the Drow's tunnels? That sort of information could be quite useful, should we find an occasion to assemble a compensation package for a land swap…"

Lares gave me a dim look as he put his cup down, "Do you really think the Drow of all people would allow outsiders that kind of privileged information, Countess?"

"I didn't mean to pry," I said, taking his warning and backing off, "I was thinking… how am I to offer them an acceptable trade for what they have, if I don't even know the value of their current holdings?"

"That's probably on purpose," Lares grumbled, "if you had a mutual understanding of what each other could offer and wanted in return, then you might actually be able to play fair."

I frowned, but nodded in acquiescence, "I see your point. Still… good lands for tunneling and making large caverns has to be worth something to them, right?"

"I thought the railway wasn't going to cut through their village?" LavenderFang asked, glancing at her cousin for confirmation.

"I told you we should have brought a big map down here," VioletBlood said as she leaned her head on my shoulder.

"We don't even have a big map yet!" I cried.

I was still rather annoyed about that. I'd been really looking forward to having one again, but it turned out that getting a high quality and accurate map to this region at such a scale was far more complicated than it seemed.

"I've commissioned several; they should ship from a printer in Bovitar in two days," Reinhild assured.

"That wasn't the issue," LavenderFang gave an imperious pout. "Why are you so accommodating to the knife-ears?"

I gave the young noblewoman's own pointed ears a dry look. "They have holdings beyond their village," I carefully stated. "The land leases they can demand for water crossings in the northern part of the county are a major complication by itself. Or DarkStar's Blood, they could build the bridges themselves and set up tolls instead. Yes... the Drow would prefer a toll." I thought, the idea gaining appeal in my mind. "A lease cedes over the land, but at toll concedes transit. And by building their own bridge, the Drow would showcase their skills in stonework and construction, without revealing the secrets of their holdfasts."

As I had VioletBlood make a note of that idea, LavenderFang gave a petulant sigh.

"You're thinking of offering them land to mine and excavate?" Mother Clementia asked.

"If they can't dig very deep here, then maybe a deal can be made for more lands," I commented. "Particularly if those lands came with mineral rights."

"Unless they're satisfied with the caverns they have here. It's clear that they have enough hatchery space to grow their steeds," my mother countered.

"Those spiders need a lot of fodder, mostly tunnel grubs," Lares pointed out as his cup was refilled.

"I heard those are a staple food, and if prepared right can be good but... what do the grubs feed on?" Visha inquired while VioletBlood gave a disdainful sniff, which her cousin copied an instant later.

"They're... tolerable, I suppose. Proper preparation and the right spices can help," Lares shrugged. "And mostly the grubs are fed on detritus, other plant litter, and other compost and biomass. Tending those beetles isn't glamorous work, but it does give them another food supply."

I nodded along. "What about mushrooms?"

Lares sipped his refilled cup. "Aye, I asked around and they do sell a bunch of fodder mushrooms, bulk stuff that may not be your interest."

I shrugged. "I'm still working out a business plan."

"They also have some specialty mushrooms used as spices, medicinal and recreational. However..." His massive shoulders rose and fell. "I doubt they'd be willing to share the cultivation of such profitable strains."

"They're mushrooms – can't you just... take their product and harvest the spores?" LavenderFang asked.

"Depends," Lares grunted and waggled a large hand. "Processed product, the dried and ground variety, are unlikely to produce viable spores. Even if you get viable spores, the real cash crops for the Drow aren't the kind of mushrooms you can just toss in a dark pit and drip feed. Half the value in them is the particular cultivation method they've figured out. One they take care to keep secret."

"We'll put a pin in that. Maybe they have distribution issues," I sighed.

"Do you think the drow will be a problem?" Visha asked.

"They could be," I nodded, thanking her for moving the conversation along. "RainsFord is already working on them but that might not be productive."

"The hunter?" LavenderFang looked to her cousin, who nodded.

"Ah, more of the... 'experts' the railroad hired," Mother Clementia frowned as she brushed my feathers. I leaned back, relishing the contact. "Still it is good that you're looking out for the people of your county."


"It is just a matter of sensible politics," RedWing explained. "Upsetting a certain percentage of the locals has the risk of forming long lasting grudges, perhaps even giving rise to organized factions who could make things difficult for a long time to come."

"And we do want to enjoy your county," VioletBlood purred.

I smiled contentedly, but LavenderFang cleared her throat and bowed to my syster

The professor then gave an approving nod to the youngest noblewomen in the room. "True, Lady and Baroness, but this is why you have outsiders come in to do the dirty work. They can even be taken out afterwards or hung out to dry to give the locals a sense of justice if needs be."

LavenderFang smiled at the approval as her wings rustled. I knew that Zephyr were amused by feathers, and the room was practically filled with the flighty spirits.

Standing up to brush the other wing, Mother Clementia's frown deepened. "Is that where we are?"

"Not unless our hands are forced. A mutually beneficial agreement for all sides would be ideal," I smiled at the "we", having my mothers', both of them, support in this endeavor was a relief. "Besides, I may have gotten the measure of RainsFord earlier today, but the other two are still a mystery."

RedWing looked into her brandy glass and swirled the dark liquid. "Our Mother Duchess also had her concerns."

"Which is why I want this as a group effort. You all have an insight and experience to this situation," I said, broadening my smile. That may have been a slight exaggeration, at least with VioletBlood's cousin, but no reason to not sweeten the pot. "Alexi has had the longest experience having lived here."

From her seat off to the side, not quite with the dutifully waiting servants, my seneschal nodded. She was an unprepossessing woman, but I knew enough to be wary of demonesses who were comfortable taking a demure and unremarkable form. "I have simply helped the Baroness fill in her list," said the quiet steward, playing down her contributions, "adding a few notes to the maps and surveys you brought with you was really the extent of my assistance. Still, there's also other land improvements we can use to entice the locals to cooperate with the railroad. Tax deductions for wells or the like in return for a land lease, or perhaps a property tax credit for the next two collections."

I bowed my horns to her. "You are too humble. After all, you will be speaking for me and shouldering this responsibility in the new year when duty calls me back offworld."

"Such is the burden of command," Doctrix RedWing sympathetically said.

"I do wish I had gone to university instead," I sighed. "Perhaps then I could have stayed closer to home."

My sister's smile sharpened. "My dear fledgling, university life would bore you."

"I liked the Silvana War College," I countered.

"Of course you did! Universities have three purposes: expanding and teaching advanced technical or arcane vocational skills, containment facilities for our strategic reserve of artists, and daycare for idle noblewomen who think themselves too modern for proper finishing schools." Her bright eyes sparkled with mirth. "Now which of the three do you think the War College falls under?"

"For the Fleet or the Legions?" VioletBlood asked with a smirk.

Her comment was met with polite laughter.

"Yes, the old girls club of all those balloon-headed shipies," RedWing sipped her glass. "Though they do look dashing in Fleet whites."

"Teaching isn't that bad is it?" I asked, frown tugging at my lips.

Not pausing in her brushing, Mother Clementia gave a beatific smile. "Every broodling is a precious gift and a joy to teach."

I idly wondered if my mother had ever gambled. I glanced at Visha who, curled up on my side, was the picture of demonic purity.

"Alas, I do not instruct broodlings," Redwing took a small pastry from an offered tray. "But by the time I get students, most of the dullards who can't inscribe a rune or calibrate a basic thaumaturgic valve have been weeded out."

Gibbs snorted at that. "I still maintain most arcane undergraduates should go through legion artificer school first."

"True words, Centurion Ritualista," my sister nodded.

Sipping from her plain mug, Gibbs looked around as if she were surveying each of us before her cynical eyes fell upon me. "Ma'am, you have said we all have a role in your little council. Dare I ponder mine."

I met her gaze. "Suzette, you and your women are here to maintain options. In case fate decides to add some… flare to my leave, I want to have options."

+++++

The rail line's inexorable northward march was marked by new stations which popped up, mushroom-like, along the tracks. Switchbend was still the logistical hub for this effort, but in the last month of the 432nd year of the Fourth Epoch, it was no longer the northern terminus.

Twenty miles north of Switchbend was the village of Craw Holler. South of my county, the unnotable settlement was little more than a bump in the turnpike, a vague nub of civilization lost in the shadow of the piney hills that were the final eastern-most topological ghosts of the Romwel Alps.

The same geography that had routed the trading road through this valley also guaranteed that it would be, if not ideal, then certainly necessary for the railroad to likewise follow the topography and pass on through the sleepy and slightly-shabby little town.

Reinhild hung close to me, seemingly suspicious of the local folk. I was less paranoid. Practically every storefront was freshly painted, and most bore the signs of recent additions. The local inn, for instance, had clearly added a whole new floor only recently. And if the cheap paint was put on with more exuberance than skill, and some of the windows were already a bit crooked, well... I could appreciate their eagerness.

There was more than the sawdust of new construction in the air; Craw Holler was eager to accept everything the railroad had to offer. The station before us was small but tried to make up for it with bunting and banners.

"You seem disquieted?" I remarked as one of Reinhild's nieces waved before turning to park the motorcar off the main street.

Tails swishing, the kitsune gave a slight tilt of her head as she scanned the crowd. While her emotions seemed generally calm, there was a slight anxiety to her movements. "I've been to towns like this before," she quietly said.

I nodded as the wooden steps creaked under our feet as we entered the humble station. "It's a stop on the road, well, on the rails now."

"Indeed, Countess, and we both know they make their coin from travelers. Some places may not be so... reputable about how they go about it," she cautioned in a low voice and, diffidently and discreetly, straightened the fall of my coat.

I chuckled. "Noted. We'll avoid the bars, second hand shops, and any form of wagering."

Reinhild bowed her head. "I just ask for caution." From her tone, I could tell she was debating her decision to leave a driver with the caravan and a motor lorry. Sure, hill-folk might have stripped the vehicles for parts as soon as they were out of our sight, but she'd prefer to have another kitsune to help watch my back.

Can you truly blame our faithful servant? The prideful and prim voice purred in my mind. Having to replace a mere motorcar would be far less of a disgrace for the Fox than having to replace her mistress. And we, more than anyone else, should know well that no one is invincible.

Not even the so-called Gods.

Shaking my head, I stepped aside to study the train schedule nailed above the ticket booth. I had enough noblewomen whispering in my ear; I didn't need my paranoid mind to conjure up another.

With a stove stoked too high to compensate for drafts, the overly warm waiting room remained fairly busy with a bunch of waiting travelers lingering about and a surprising number of newspaper stands and food stalls crowding its walls. The enticing scent of cheap sausages in a bun, where the smell was by far the tastiest part, did a good job of overpowering the smell of fresh paint.

A handful of women, who by their predatory but ingratiating expressions, snappy suits, and feathered hats had to be saleswomen of some kind, lurked in a knot by the door to the lavatory, peering at the crowd like buzzards wondering which antelope was most sickly. I wondered what flim-flamery they purveyed. Maybe they were selling railway disinfectant to nervous travelers, electric bath aides, or knocker-uppers for work people. Regardless, they were sampling the sausage-seller's wares. I suppose like appreciated like, and that no carrion-eater could resist such a succulent selection of questionable meat.

When no horde of pickpockets immediately descended upon us, Reinhild seemed to relax a bit. "Hopefully the train's not late." I could understand her attitude. The reason I was here with just one servant was the same reason Reinhild would shortly be joined by more servants: there was only so much room in even a stretched touring car.

"The train's tardiness can hardly be the fault of the locals…" I noted, and pulled a pocket watch out of the vest I wore over my dress. The gilded and engraved lid opened with a satisfying click as I depressed the release, revealing a tiny masterwork of functional beauty. Judging by that masterwork, whose mechanisms were precise to the point that only seconds should be lost per century, the station clock was a full three minutes fast.

Allowances, I supposed, not bothering to conceal my frown as I tucked my watch back away, must be made for provincials. Sometimes, at least.

"As you say," Reinhild politely stated. Her admonishment that I should carry a handbag went unstated. It was old hat by this point. She remained loudly silent as she followed me out from the waiting room and onto the covered platform. Above our ears, tin roofing groaned in the wind like a legionnaire with a split hoof. There was a second platform but, without any stairs, the half-built structure was inaccessible.

The tracks stretched far in either direction. To my left, they went south all the way to Switchbend, to Bovitar, and from there, to practically anywhere else on Diyu. To the right, the line left Craw's Holler behind and rose up around a cutting, where the tracks stopped but the clearing continued, a railroad without rails.

The weather was proving less blustery than I expected. Perhaps it was all the waiting people holding their breath in anticipation for the dawdling train, capturing a share of the wind in their collective lungs. They were not quite crowding the yellow line painted on the platform's wooden planks but they clustered behind it like gamehens, bodies plumped out with downy jackets against the cold. Those planks squeaked incessantly every time I took a step or some other waiting figure shifted their weight, a clear sign of inexpert joinery. My frown deepened when I looked up and heard the poles holding up the roof creak even louder.

Speed, it seemed, had trumped quality in every aspect of the station's construction.

At least something had been uniform in its erection.

"Now, now, Countess. Do not begrudge these proud folk their eagerness," a familiar voice crooned, far too close for comfort.

Hackles raised, I turned with deliberate slowness to see the Lady from the Railroad standing behind me, no doubt hoping to make me start into motion with her unexpected closeness. As usual, the blonde was turned out in glossy red and charcoal black.

"Ma'am," I inclined my head to her, careful to keep my nerves under wraps. "What brings you here?"

Beside me, Reinhild offered a polite, if stiff-tailed, bow. Her vulpine eyes, I noted, had dilated wide, every hunter's nerve locked in the careful observation of the Lady in glowing coals and soot.

"Why, progress, my dear Countess!" The red-eyed woman spread her arms. "What else brings the steel road anywhere, save the promise of progress towards a brighter future? But, in this particular case, I have come to celebrate the opening of this: a new station on my associate's line!"

She beamed at her announcement, the Lady from the Railroad, ruby lips stretched wide in a generous smile, materteral delight twinkling in her eyes like an old aunt letting a beloved niece in on some shared joke. She flashed me a wink that I immediately mistrusted, more than if it came from one of those saleswomen, and offered me an arm to guide me down the platform. "What do you think, Countess?"

"It's very…" I pursed my lips and chose my words carefully. Something told me to tread lightly around the woman whose arm, around which my own was wrapped, had all the give of steel in it, and whose heat I could feel even through the thick material of her jacket. "New. Shouldn't these platforms and sidings be made from poured concrete, or at least from stone? The mason's guild does have codes."

Another pole squeaked and I looked up at the agonized roof, spine tingling with growing anticipation for… something. "Also, the wood for these poles and rafters looks a bit green. I'm not sure the tolerances properly accounted for the cold or the wind."

"All in due time Countess, all in due time! Yes, soon things will be 'on the level', as it were," the demoness enunciated carefully as if the phrase were of import, "But right now, the people of Craw's Holler want to strike while the iron is hot! While the iron is hot, while the timber is unseasoned, and while the scent of opportunity fills the air right alongside the scent of sawdust! Hence this limited early opening! Industry, enterprise, progress… I think these are all values we can both agree on, yes, Countess?"

Eying the overcast sky, I took back my arm from the Lady and pulled my wings in as the wind picked up. "Actions," I stated, "always come with costs."

The Railroad Demon's sunny smile turned sharp. "Oh Countess, how right you are! Safety codes are written in blood, after all. But too much timidity will not do, no, My Lady, it will not do at all! We must reach – reach! – to find the limit of our grasp. Do you deny the bold their freedom to choose and to strive? If they fail, they fail and others will learn from the example they set! But if they succeed..."

My wings ruffled as the crowd pressed in. At least by Diyu standards, and by the standards of a no-name town in a rural province, there were many passengers eager for the train's arrival. "'tis a worthy aspiration, to advance oneself and blaze new frontiers, but a wise entrepreneur is always careful about who they step on to climb up. The footing can be treacherous, when the ascent is over backs and heads… Sometimes, those whose backs the overly hasty and the incautious step upon might reach up to pull you down. Sometimes those climbing higher above might kick down, sending an unwary alpinist who ignored their ropes and their pitons bouncing back down the slope… Sometimes, thoroughness is its own reward."

Tail flicking, the blonde demon chucked, a smooth yet raspy sound that brought to mind both the exhalations of some great cat and the sighing of a hydraulic piston in motion. "Ah, is that why you made sure to craft your own tower from a pile of bones, My Countess? Quite wise. Quite wise. Bones, after all, seldom kick."

Behind us, Reinhild was doing her best to remain sensibly unobtrusive. If she could avoid dealing with the Railroad, or at least the individual embodying the authority of… some line or another, then she would.

From up the tracks, there was a distant chugging noise followed by the long wail of a train horn. The crowd thronging the creaking platform cheered, eager to trade the wind for the warmth offered by four stout if rattling walls. The painfully-earnest saleswomen in sharp suits and shiny shoes, with their hatboxes, suitcases, and other containers for their wares heaped at their sides, practically quivered with anticipation. Personally, I felt they were far too optimistic to think that the solution to all their problems was aboard that oncoming train.

A handsome-looking engine in the green livery of the Great Southern Railway company pulling a matching line of passenger cars raced towards us on the steel rails. Billowing coal smoke spread as if it were some cloud machine. For all our magical artifices, coal remained the queen of the rails, its sheer practicality hard to beat. Easy to mine, energy dense, plentiful, and relatively safe to handle compared to more exotic power sources, it was a convenient choice of fuel for the hungry firebox of a locomotive. I'm sure some researchers out there were looking into some kind of magical rails to power the trains, but today wasn't yet that day.

I supposed mother's escorts were flying above somewhere, hidden in the low cloud cover. Mother could have simply flown up to my manor house in her own RP, but her baggage would have to be picked up at this station regardless. Hence my presence at the station, and hence her arrival via the Railroad.

As the engine approached, a rattling vibration came up from the rails, and the whole platform quivered and flexed. My mind drifted to thoughts of flying with Mother. It had been far too long since we had last taken to the air together. Realizing I had been craning my neck to get a better view of the train, I took a step back from the yellow painted line, the huddled throng parting easily for me and my two companions. Practicalities aside, I certainly didn't need to be reminded that getting distracted was how "accidents" happened near the rails.

My horns practically buzzed from the radiant eagerness of the crowd. It was thick enough to slice and fry in a pan. Frankly, I was shocked that the locals didn't have a band playing. I had to step to one side to avoid being jostled by the traveling saleswomen, their eagerness to board overwhelming societal conventions around crowding others, not to mention the deference generally offered to anybody with rank or wealth enough to be accompanied by a personal servant.

Another whistling wail echoed, this time loud enough to cut through any other sound and warn all in its path. The rails began to sing with the conveyed echo of the wheels and, in the distance, what had been a faint smudge of potential suddenly became a rapidly approaching reality. The train had been easing on the throttle for miles, but that didn't change the fact that it was hundreds upon hundreds of tons of mass inexorably hurtling towards us.

As the vibrations grew, the poles holding up the roof creaked and groaned, a crowd of mourners absent a funeral. A sudden squeal of brakes broiling with friction cut through the air, an ear-splitting hiss shredding the bustling clamor of the platform. Roof supports and the platform trusses shuddered ominously in quaking chorus as the train decelerated.

Nothing too extraordinary, and nothing I could pinpoint, but after so many years spent across lifetimes revolving around the railroad, I could feel in my bones that something had gone wrong. For a moment the engine still seemed deceptively far away and it took me a moment that dopplered out into an agonizing eternity for the pieces to fall into place, for the situation to fully register.

There was something wrong with the brakes!

Panic clenched my chest, and like a child reaching for a safety blanket, I tried to use logic to salve my anxiety. There's still plenty of track to spare and there's nothing ahead of them. The rails are empty. Even if they are slow to stop, they could still bleed off enough momentum to… to…

I turned desperately to see if there was an alarm to pull, craning my head for an angle that afforded a full view of the platform's length, a warning on my lips as the magnitude of the situation came crashing down on me.

The train raced to the station far above speed, a thundering green giant hurtling through to suddenly fill the previously vacant space beyond that painted yellow line with furious vibrations and whistling screams. A loud crack came from somewhere below my feet. Something gave. Everything tilted as a long section of the platform collapsed towards the rails.

The saleswomen stumbled. One of their number, a shorter, green-haired one, hit Reinhild, bowling her over and knocking her down into the tangled, panicked crowd. Meanwhile, the taller saleswoman's heel caught in the cracked floor and she fell. I moved to catch her, when-

Crack!

Something knocked into my head. Stars burst across my vision. Thoughts scattered across the Spine as I went flying. An old, helpless fear spiked. I saw the train racing in as I was about to go past the yellow line and over the edge.

Time seemed to slow as I fell. Wings snapped out. My Zephyr rose up. The blinding light heralding my death drew ever closer.

It can't end like this, not again!

Then a hand shot out and grabbed my arm. Nails pressed into my flesh with an iron grip and I was hauled back from the precipice. Holding me upright, my heels firmly planted back onto the partially collapsed platform, the Lady from the Railroad stood perfectly poised on the tilted surface.

"We've done that once before, haven't we, Dear Countess? No need to retread old ground, I think." She smiled again, again letting me in on a joke shared only between us two, heedless of the screaming chaos. Her ruby lips were as sharp as a razor blade, as plump as a water-bloated corpse, and as red as blood so fresh the air hadn't time to darken it away into rust.

Her eyes were windows into hell, into a place where even demons could be sacrificed upon altars dedicated to the honor of a god far less merciful than any I had ever killed.

There is nothing, those machine eyes still twinkling with grandmotherly joy, as if she had found a favored broodling, seemed to suggest, that cannot be rendered into fuel for the engines of Progress..

The train roared past us, howling steel and shrieking steam trailing a deafening cacophony as certain death passed me by once again. Despite the deafening chaos of it all, the Lady's voice rang crystal clear.

"The same death an even number of times? Unlucky." She clicked her tongue and shook her head, that same coldly friendly grin on her face all the while, "No, no, we can't have that at all."

The engine, it transpired, overshot the station. It stopped eventually, coming to a trembling halt nearly a mile away, the rail cars almost outside of the town's furthest bound. In its wake were the screams of the scared, the wails of the hurt, and the silence of the dead.

With eyes as uncaring as the red safety signs warning passengers that a train was coming and not to cross the yellow line, the blonde demon stared me down. She knew.

She knew.

She was no Being X with sanctimonious impatience, no Uriel with his quiet plans! No... She was something else.

And she had read me like an open book.

A quartet of Ritual Plate plunged down from the clouds, breaking the moment stretched between us like spun glass. It was possible they had descended to reassert order and to carry off the injured, and most likely of all were a futile show of force, a demonstration of a Duchess's power in a place and at a time where a Duchess and a Countess had been brushed by the dragging trail of Death's own robe, but still I took comfort in their glinting, bellicose presence, no matter how symbolic or empty such force might be as a defense against the entity who held me aloft, and whose whim had just spared my life.

Giving the combat suits hardly a glance, the Lady from the Railroad studied the horror around us, her mockingly familiar smile replaced with an icy fury. Her gaze slipped past the mangled wounded and the scattered body parts that had been flung all over Craw Holler like ghastly garlands, dismissing all of them as beneath her care. Oh no, those pinpoint crimson eyes latched the platform itself and the engine in the distance with a searing intensity.

A gear, it seemed, had slipped in the drivetrain of Progress. Despite how close their mistake had come to costing me my life, I shivered, wings closing over my shoulders, when I thought of what would happen to the parties responsible for that blasphemy when this… avatar of the machine-god of unfettered, nay cancerous, growth found them.

"I... I should help the injured," I stated and motioned for Reinhild, who had climbed to her feet amongst the scrum of the fallen, seeming uninjured for her tumble. She had insisted on never traveling without a compact trauma kit and there was a larger one in the motor car's trunk.

I was about to call for a runner when the kitsune, who had already thrown her keys to the saleswoman who had knocked her over, ordered the women to run to fetch the kit, and to bring Reinheld's cousin back along with her. That is, if the other maid wasn't already running towards us.

"Do give your mother my best," said the Lady from the Railroad with a touch of her previous knowing jocularity, giving a little bow to me as if she had to leave a luncheon early. "I have to... bend the ear of some associates of mine."

There was nothing remotely friendly in those words, only a hiss like a boiler under too much pressure. Like some fell machine, the Lady strode out of the station untouched and unmoved by the tragedy writ in rent flesh around her, her shoes spotless, her wings practically smoldering with unconcealed rage..

Nodding, I mouthed some dull and automatic response to her parting, focusing instead on my Legionary trauma and triage training. Providing first aid was something I could do, at least until proper doctors or nurses could be found. My Zephyr were eager to help; they might not know too much about biology, but they were clever enough to realize that liquids belonged inside. I just had to keep the very good spirits from getting too exuberant.

With so many in pain and shock, my horns buzzed like wasps as I donned the gloves Reinhild offered and set numbly to work. My spirits only truly lifted when I felt Mother's approach. Glancing down the rails, I could see the Duchess and could distantly feel her concern and resolve. She was fast marching from the stopped train, her bodyguards and a number of passengers who had been drafted to help swept up in tow.

As Reinhild and I started to separate the quick from the dead and the living dead from those who could be saved, I tried to focus on what was in front of me and who I could help right now, with the resources I had on hand. For the moment, secrets could wait.

But not forever.

End Chapter 35

Well, that's a new complication

Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter And Special thanks to Readhead for polishing and adding that much more menace and intensity to the Railroad Lady. Also to Zeshara for the idea for the first scene. And for ScarletFox who once more has come up with the chapter title.

In good news, chapter 36 has been written and is being edited, and the two latest chapters of Bonding Allure have been edited and will be posted. I will also be working on new content to Bonding Allure, as the crossover with that and Little Demon is nearing. These revisions will bring Bonding Allure (and Return) more in line with the world building of Little Demon

More good news, I'm now up to a full dozen art pieces to be posted ( including ones of the Lady from the Railroad, broodlings, the Duchess's Ritual Plate, and some gowns) and I also have a handful of new Legionary ground vehicle designs. So you can expect a few Sabers Watch gifts.

 

[NHO]

Ah yes. Demons and demons.

 

[Simonbob]

And Fey.



I wonder who invited something like that out to play. And if they're still alive.

 

[Rymu]

Well. The party might have been nice and informative but that railroad station encounter sure was spooky.

Methinks Tanya needs to find another artifact for self defense...

 

[ScarletFox]

And Fey.



I wonder who invited something like that out to play. And if they're still alive.

Click to shrink...

She...invited herself ^_^ It'll be discussed more in the next chapter but she is something a bit different than those from Avalon's Summer Hills and Winter Castles.

Spoiler: If you want a hint

A similar being could be found in Old Appalachia if they were also working on a Rail line.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Ah yes. Demons and demons.

Click to shrink...

It does raise the question of just how much Tauria knows about the Lady. Maybe her Mother knows something.

And Fey.



I wonder who invited something like that out to play. And if they're still alive.

Click to shrink...

That depends on the costs such a being demands, and the boons she brings with her.

Well. The party might have been nice and informative but that railroad station encounter sure was spooky.

Methinks Tanya needs to find another artifact for self defense...

Click to shrink...

Awesome! And well... they thought Tauria was paranoid for bringing such weapons with her, and turns out.... she might not have brought enough.

She...invited herself ^_^ It'll be discussed more in the next chapter but she is something a bit different than those from Avalon's Summer Hills and Winter Castles.

Spoiler: If you want a hint

A similar being could be found in Old Appalachia if they were also working on a Rail line.

Click to shrink...

Hehehe.... Yeah, the Lady of the Railroad has a... different aspect. And yeah I heartily recommend that podcast. Some very good stuff.

Thanks for commenting everyone!

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Merry Xmass, Happy Holidays, and a somber SBRs Watch.

Another year for Little Demon. It's been a pleasant surprise that it's gotten this much continued engagement and support. I'm thankful for all of you for reading, commenting and your continued interest. I know this is a bit of a niche story, let alone being an original setting, let alone what the setting is like. Once again thank you all readers new and old.

Edit: Oh, I'm so sorry, I also want to thank all my editors and beta readers for all their help, corrections, polishing, ideas, and support. The story is a much better work for all their help!

Chapter 36 is being edited, and ch37 has 5,800 words being written.

And now, onto the art.

---

First by Scitty Kitty we have the Railroad Lady, the pride of progress, and her right-hand... associate Miss Crow

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Next by Lexi Kimble we see the Railroad Lady's other minion: Mistress RainsFord Songstress. She is trying to charm a very overdressed Tauria

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And by PlayerError404 we have Tauria gamely trying to get her nieces Talia and Liata down, and not doing something rather... risky

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Also by Lexi Kimble we have Visha and Tauria showing off some fancy Elenese style fashion

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And also by Scitty Kitty we have more Tauria emotes. (The previous batch can be seen here). Shows how expressive she is, and these emotes get a lot of use in the LD Discord.

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And finally by Lexi Kimble on a sober note we have Volantes Centurion Lady Adriana "Milly" Melisande and her late mate Volantes Centurion IronTalon Cardino

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Also by PlayerError404 we have this lovely scene of Duchess SilverFlight and Tauria taking a break after flying together.

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And last but not least by Tiffanymarsou we have DarkStar in a fancy holiday gown. Which is an adaptation of a previous work by PlayerError404 posted last year.

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Once again Happy Holidays everyone!

 

[RogueInquisitor]

Merry Xmass, Happy Holidays, and a somber SBRs Watch.

Another year for Little Demon. It's been a pleasant surprise that it's gotten this much continued engagement and support. I'm thankful for all of you for reading, commenting and your continued interest. I know this is a bit of a niche story, let alone being an original setting, let alone what the setting is like. Once again thank you all readers new and old.

Chapter 36 is being edited, and ch37 has 5,800 words being written.

And now, onto the art.

---

First by Scitty Kitty we have the Railroad Lady, the pride of progress, and her right-hand... associate Miss Crow

Fullsize​

Click to shrink...

That booklet looks familiar. Any reason it is emblazoned with Tauria's coat of arms?

---

Next by Lexi Kimble we see the Railroad Lady's other minion: Mistress RainsFord Songstress. She is trying to charm a very overdressed Tauria

Fullsize​

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Click to shrink...

Wow, look at the platform on Tauria's shoes. Another reminder she is smol.

Also by Lexi Kimble we have Visha and Tauria showing off some fancy Elenese style fashion

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Click to shrink...

The way Tauria is grabbing Visha's leg looks super awkward.

Also by PlayerError404 we have this lovely scene of Duchess SilverFlight and Tauria taking a break after flying together.

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Click to shrink...

Damn, that's surprisingly hearwarming. What's with the ruins firing an energy beam in the background?

 

[moon so bright]

Love the new fan art, and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!

 

[Sunshine Temple]

That booklet looks familiar. Any reason it is emblazoned with Tauria's coat of arms?

Click to shrink...

Heh, the intention is as a calling card. And it's showing the connection between the two.

Wow, look at the platform on Tauria's shoes. Another reminder she is smol.

Click to shrink...

Yah, even with those heels and some crazy hair she's still shorter than the huntress. But goes to show there's a wide variety of heights on Diyu

The way Tauria is grabbing Visha's leg looks super awkward.

Click to shrink...

Yah, it is just possible but doesn't have any strength. But given they're deliberately posing a bit of allowance can be made

Damn, that's surprisingly hearwarming. What's with the ruins firing an energy beam in the background?

Click to shrink...

Daww, and yah that was a real nice moment between them. That beam is the artist's rendition of a teleport beacon.

Love the new fan art, and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!

Click to shrink...

Thanks! Glad you liked it! And hope you have a good holiday too!

 

[Buffalo Heart]

I hate when I lose my place in an fic and I can't find it again.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

I hate when I lose my place in an fic and I can't find it again.

Click to shrink...

Hmm a couple questions to narrow things down.

Has Tanya got her own Flight of 4 pilots and taken a mission to Vualia? (ch 6)

Have Tanya and Visha Reunited? (ch9)

Has she gone to the War College yet? (ch16)

Has Tanya got her own Squadron of 12 pilots? (ch21)

Have they gone on a mission on Harp's World? (ch25)

Or had Tanya gone back to her manor house for the holidays? (ch33)

 

[Buffalo Heart]

I know I lost my place somewhere between chapter 10 and chapter 13. The problem is that I can't seem to narrow it down further than that >.<

 

[Sunshine Temple]

I know I lost my place somewhere between chapter 10 and chapter 13. The problem is that I can't seem to narrow it down further than that >.<

Click to shrink...

Ahhh the jungles of House Crocelli arc!

Hmm well ch11 opens with Tauria's 12th birthday. After that is a pretty major combat sequence.

 

[Buffalo Heart]

Made it to the start of chapter 16. The reason I couldn't find the place I was at easily was that I kept thinking I hadn't finished chapter 13, but I was actually about halfway through 14 last time I read.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Made it to the start of chapter 16. The reason I couldn't find the place I was at easily was that I kept thinking I hadn't finished chapter 13, but I was actually about halfway through 14 last time I read.

Click to shrink...

Ahh. Yeah that would do it. Enjoy the rest of the story! And there's also a bunch of art for it

 

[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.

Chapter 36: Present Situation

"...I believe that answers my questions, Your Grace. Not all my questions, but all I had for you. Let me also thank you and your daughter for your assistance." The Provincial Inspector flipped her silver notebook closed, her mask of polite decorum firmly in place. A bow of her horns concluded the formalities and, thankfully, signified the interview's end.

My polite smile remained pinned in place as I nodded my acceptance of her gesture, but inside I felt the familiar drain of a long day filled with the thrill of life threatening danger and the monotony of after action reports. I was still buzzing with the lingering tail of my adrenaline spike but the body aches were already coming. The stench of blood lingered in the air. All that could be said in regards to that last note was that thankfully, aside from a few scratches on my arm where I had been grabbed, none of it was mine.

"You are too kind Inspector Focht," Duchess SilverFlight, my mother, purred. She sat across the low table from the inspector, effortlessly presiding over the grandest, and only, private room in Craw Holler's main public house. Next to the town pharmacy, the front room served as the main collection point for witnesses, at least those without major injuries. This parlor, meanwhile, had been pressed into a hasty interrogation room. "We all do our part, after all."

Representing the Provincial Contract Enforcement Office on the other side of this very genteel interrogation was Inspector Nimue Focht, a tall woman whose steel-grey hair was pulled straight back from her face before spilling down her back in a glossy wave. That perfect coif was only slightly marred by the hint of an indentation circling her crown; the black homburg responsible for that vague trace of hat-hair was on the table, atop her valise. In another concession to vanity, pearls dangled from her black horns and more dangled from her ears and, in a long string, from the end of her long blue tail.

Having come up from Bovitar via Switchbend with her team, Focht still wore an outfit distinctly urban in the comparativ rural counties of my mother's duchy. Her sober grey satin bodice paired nicely with the high-necked white silk blouse, whose monochromatic schema was shattered with the addition of a bright red cravat. For the sartorial customs of her position, her ankle length black skirt was somewhat long. But her sensible brown leather boots, matching shoulder holster, and brass badge pinned on the front of her black caplet were all on point enough that I wondered if she had dressed on the drive up, or was simply already on duty.

More than any accessory, Inspector Focht wore the authority of her office as a mantle, whose substantial folds enrobed her so that she could meet the eyes of my mother, the Duchess, straight on. Neither confronting nor submitting.

It was not just the inspector's presence that made the air trapped in the still-too-small parlor heavy and oppressive. Mother's Zephyr were anxious; their eagerness to take to the air, to do something, was infectious. I had to press back against my own spirits to hold them in check, leashing them tight to thwart any rebellion.

At least we had privacy. Mother had made sure of that.

"If you have any additional information relevant to the investigation, I can be reached here." Grey-gloved hands deposited an official card on the table in front of my mother. "Please do not hesitate to reach out, Your Grace."

Duchess SilverFlight picked it up. "And if I have any questions for you about the investigation or its progress?"

Clearly just as eager to end this interview as I was, Focht had begun reaching for her hat as soon as she surrendered her card. When my mother asked her question, the inspector's face ever so slightly fell and her tail minutely drooped.

"Your Grace," the inspector asked, a frown whose sincerity I could only sympathize with creasing her brow and turning her carmine lips downwards crossing her face, "are you asking as an interested citizen or as the Duchess of Argenia?"

"With regards to the safety of my daughter? The former. With regards to the safety of my subjects in regards to this whole provincial development project? The latter," the Duchess stated, pulling me close with a wing around my shoulders.

Focht put her hat back down onto the dinner table and resettled herself in the seat across from Mother and me. She had to be aware that there was no shortage of aggrieved citizens who may just seek redress through the Duchy's magisterial court. The Duchess and myself could, I suppose, also pursue legal action under our own auspices as victims of this accident, but as neither of us had been injured, any suit we brought would have sat atop a shaky foundation, noble weight or no. I kept my fists from clenching at the absurdities of legal technicalities.

Likewise, we couldn't bring ourselves as victims to our own court. That said, should a citizen conveniently petition Mother for redress, we would have the means to easily circumvent both issues.

Regardless of whether either my name or my mother's appeared on any docket in the role of a plaintiff, the attorneys who Mother kept on retainer would be making plenty of money soon enough. The only variable here, from the inspector's point of view, was how much of the crap soon to fill the air would end up staining her coat in particular.

"Your Grace…" Inspector Focht began, her tone thoughtful as if the consideration had just occurred as DarkStar-borne inspiration, "As all of the sadly afflicted in this case are likely to be residents of Argenia Duchy, would you like a list of the victims or their families forwarded to your court? As a courtesy, of course, just to help speed recovery and charitable efforts in the wake of this horrible tragedy."

My mother smiled thinly. "Only at your convenience, Inspector, of course. And, if it's not too much trouble, any victims who are residents of County Larium should be forwarded to my daughter's court as well."

The inspector, rightfully recognizing the polite suggestion for what it truly was, bowed her horns. She may be able to look a Duchess in the eye, but she seemed wise enough to not go out of her way to antagonize one.

I blinked. Is mother trying to add to my workload? I already have enough on my plate as is…Then I considered this from another angle. If I can't handle a minor incident like this… I suppose I'm hardly the leadership material she's looking for to help run her lands then, am I? A trial by fire, then.

I'm no stranger to those.

Besides, I sniffed some of the blood that had gotten onto my sleeve. Those fools started fires in my backyard right next to my county. I might as well get my pound of flesh as well.

"Your Grace, my girls are still canvassing the scene. It was only an hour ago that we got enough... parts and witness reports to have a full casualty list," the inspector continued, wincing minutely at the mention of the dismembered deceased. "And most of the people of interest identified so far have yet to be interviewed. All that is to say that my specialists and seers can only tentatively claim that no arcane interference was at work on the engine or the platform's supports."

I coughed delicately to attract the inspector's attention. "I didn't intend to rile up the local spirits."

A grey eyebrow lifted as she flipped through her little notebook, her finger tracing lines of neat shorthand. "If I recall, you attest that was a natural reaction, one stemming from your experience and training as a Pilot. You credited it with preserving your life."

Mother's expression did not change, but I felt the mental pressure of her attention increase slightly.

"I did what I had to do," I stated, voice steady and confident, aware of the pen scratching new notes in that little book, "but I had help. Someone, it could have been a traveling saleslady, a lumberjill, or a fish-bender, grabbed me, pulled me back to arrest my fall. It could have been any of the sharp-dressed people there, and we all fell together when the platform collapsed. I didn't catch her name, though, there was a lot going on at the time," I said, telling more of the truth than I realized.

"And your medical help made a difference," the inspector murmured, flipping her notebook closed again. "Many of the people I interviewed wanted to thank you."

I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat. Earning myself a good reputation was all fine and well, but I didn't much like the idea of bolstering my famous "Saintliness".

"I did what I could. I wish I could have done more..." I glanced at Mother. Her tension still had her on edge.

While there were plenty of lightly wounded people with minor injuries from falling into each other in the crowd, a few had sustained more serious damage. There were a couple of especially unlucky people who had been mangled yet survived. First responders and medics had done what they could with what they had, fighting to stabilize those unfortunates, and had flown them out to the nearest hospital at the first chance they got, facilitated by two of Mother's pilots. Ambulances from the county seat of Aberdeen and from Jopecott, my own county seat, had also arrived.

Most of those hit by the train were, of course, beyond any mortal concerns.

"The people of Craw Holler were lucky that you were both here," Focht shrugged. "Though some may, in time, come to see things differently."

"Is it sabotage then? Malfeasance?" Mother's voice was quiet, almost lost by the buzzing pressure of her magic and air spirits.

The inspector held up a hand. "You know I can't speculate, Your Grace, and any answer I give now would be speculation. It's only been a few hours, far too short for even a preliminary investigation to yield fruit.

"That said, pending confirmation from the engineers, the photographs and evidence we've collected seem to indicate that substandard maintenance system-wide played some part in today's tragedy. The steam engine itself will require a thorough inspection, of course, but many of the components seem distinctly shoddy, and not just the braking system.

"I have a team at the rail yard in Switchbend gathering the repair logs, checking to see if the maintenance crew cut corners when it came to requisitioning replacement parts, or if they unwittingly received counterfeit components. The issues with the platform are quite a bit more obvious, what with the thin pilings, the sagging deck, and improper mountings. We're going to have to document the engine in situ and take what evidence we can before it'll be towed down south."

The inspector had said all of this in a single gust of words, and when she was done, she took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. The only reason witnesses such as us got to hear such a confession was due to Mother's exalted station.

"Quite a bit of work to do…" she said mournfully, once she'd caught her breath. "Anyway, I can't say anything further until I've attended several more interviews. Now, I have no intention of casting aspersions – this is no time to bind citizens in absentia, of course – but..." the inspector gave mother a level look. "If certain guilders and local members of the petty nobility cannot be located by tomorrow, I will be forced to officially note their conspicuous absence... And the need to remedy such to bring the inquiry to a fruitful conclusion."

"Ah," Mother nodded, understanding the sub rosa message clearly. "Well, if you need any assistance with, say aerial tracking… I can extend some very generous rates on my ladies' time to the PCE Office." Her eyes and light smile gained an edge, relishing the potential hunt. "Friends and family rates. For the good of the public, you understand."

"I may have to take you up on that," said Inspector Focht, politely noncommittal but clearly noting the offer in her precise shorthand. "Thankfully, I can simply inspect the platform without any testimony. While there is an allowance for using wood in the construction of temporary platforms, the approvals for this one are... murky. Craw Holler's records office is not the most organized. What is far more clear is the age of the lumber used, not to mention the… slim dimensions ordered. But all of that is still in the realm of unintentional acts, depraved indifference at worst and that might be a stretch. When it comes to willful acts, mundane or..."

"Or conducted via spirits, magical chicanery, or other creatures," Mother stated, returning to her previous expressionless state. "That is still under investigation, of course, and you couldn't possibly speculate."

"Just so." Focht put her hand on her hat. "But, that variety of concern is why the governor, and the subscriptions raised by various generous citizens, have funded my office with all sorts of inspectors, forensic accountants, auguries, spirit talkers, and metallurgists. But, alas, no RP and only limited VTOL resources."

"I'm familiar with the Lady Governor, a shrewd woman," Mother agreed.

The inspector's smile turned cold. "It's not just the railways. Great Southern and BSC are only the most visible organizations who have already made their desire for a quiet resolution known. This modernization project has a lot of interested parties. Considering the size of their investments and the prospective fruits of the project, perhaps the general desire in certain quarters for this all to just… go away quietly is unsurprising. The death of seven people is, of course, a tragedy, but in the grand scheme of things…" She trailed off with a shrug.

I myself wasn't too surprised. I certainly wasn't happy, but I fought through the Great War. A mere seven casualties for little to no gain would be seen as a win on a good day.

"There are many ways to quiet a problem, and while I would be happy to answer any of your questions, Your Grace, I will be quite busy fielding all of those requests from those very important and very anxious people, you understand," she explained, extending out a card. "But, if the Duchess of Argenia were willing to provide assistance, including aerial assets, for only a limited and therefore urgent window..."

Slipping the inspector's card up her sleeve, Mother nodded her head and then handed over one of her personal cards in exchange. "I will provide all the support I can."

I had already handed over one of my calling cards. Such things were even more important in this life than my previous two lives. Before, in the Empire or Japan, the card of someone high-status was a great networking tool; having one in one's possession could open any number of doors. This time around, I had one of Aedile Felisia's cards, and having the calling card to a Daughter of the Imperatrix was more than I ever dared to consider.

"Thank you, I'll be in touch." Focht's posture relaxed slightly. "I do apologize for delaying the both of you so long. Please, try to enjoy your evening."

Giving a graceful smile, Mother pulled back her wing and stood. "Come, Countess, our presence is just a distraction from the inspector's work."

Focht saw us out of the pub. The main room was full of anxious, yet bored, people who looked at the inspector with trepidation and a desire to be released from their questioning. Focht made some platitudes, thanking them for their time and that she only had a few more questions before all the witnesses would be released.

Reinhild, her cousin, and mother's maids were already waiting with their vehicles, after having moved out of the way of ambulances and other emergency vehicles. Mother's luggage had meanwhile been loaded into the truck and her Pilots had refueled. Now, they circled overhead, executing a standard close air patrol pattern. I wondered if I could find a way to take a peek in the back of the truck. I had my suspicions as to the contents of at least a portion of Mother's luggage, and it was the holidays...

I would have indulged in a fantasy of piles of brightly-wrapped gifts under trimmed trees, but reality intruded. Distressed, wounded townsfolk watched our procession with calculating interest. A few of the more enterprising were already selling their potions and nostrums. I suppose plenty of people would, after facing death, want a soothing syrup or something to put some pep in their step, or maybe something to make watching one of the bar's sand views utterly fascinating. For a moment, I was worried that someone may be taking advantage of the situation, causing more problems in the future instead of resolving them. Though a few other ladies were about, alieving those concerns.

A few deputized Forestry Services women were very casually observing the townies. Doubtless, they were keeping an eye on the samplers of drugs, making sure no one went far enough to warrant the inspector's attention.

After Mother had a quiet word with one of the more wild and big-haired muscular feline maids, we climbed into the stretched motorcar.

I noted mother had one of her demure maids driving the vehicle and that Reinhild was already in the passenger compartment. The kitsune handed Mother a fluted glass full of sparkling liquor.

Then Reinhild handed me a large cup of cocoa.

Our little convoy then went into gear and started its journey northward. Mother spun up the privacy spell and leaned back, sipping her drink, and sighed.

"Hallowed Lady," she groaned, allowing the mask of noble detachment to fall away completely as, tail going limp, she threw her head back into the seat's rich cushion, "what a mess!"

"Why did you tell me not to mention that the Railway Representative saved me?" I asked, enjoying the warmth of the beverage.

The Duchess studied the crystal glass as the motorcar drove up the provincial pike. "Daughter, tell me, what exactly would you tell the inspector?"

"Nothing incriminating. She pulled me back. DarkStar's Blood! I don't even know her name..." My tail curled as I shot my mother a frown. "What is her name anyways? Don't think I haven't noticed how she only seems to go by her title."

Mother gave me a level look. "Is this something you want to be concerned with?"

"Well, now I do!" I growled, clawing the air impotently from how powerless I felt.

The Duchess emptied her glass and held it for Reinhild to refill. "You're already in this, and the Railroad Lady has taken an interest in you. That much has already been determined. But, it is up to you to decide how deep your ensnarement shall be."

I snorted derisively. "I couldn't stay out of it even if I wanted to." I pulled my wings in. "She knows too much. Things she shouldn't. Has plans for me."

That twisted smile and those scarlet eyes that promised "Progress!" over all things flashed in my mind

Mother put the glass to her lips in a silent question.

"She didn't say what they were," I went on, playing back every cryptic statement the red-clad demoness had said as I continued my summary, "and after she rescued me, she ran off to do something, to talk to 'associates' of hers."

Were those "associates" even mortal themselves? What did that mean for the "hunter" she brought with her? DarkStar's blood I nearly acquiesced to go on a hunt with that one! My unvoiced questions lead me into distraction.

Mother touched my arm, bringing me out of my worries. "I can talk to a few friends in the Legions, get some orders quietly sent cutting your leave short, you and your Vs. There'd be no shame in being pulled back to Mursam early. Maybe do some flight testing in the capital."

"Thank you, but no." I shook my head, steeling my own resolve. "It's my county in the crosshairs. This isn't something that I can just abandon." I'd spent most of my extra lives running into unknown danger, this battlefield would hopefully have less life threatening danger. "Besides, the kind of danger she represents… if I'm right, the Legions couldn't help me run from it even if all the airships in the House Fleet helped."

The Duchess lowered her glass. "Danger has always stood in your shadow, Daughter. I should have expected it to follow you home from deployment. I wanted you to have some peace in your life. Even an illusion of time away from our life." Her tail pulled me into a hug.

"Peace?" a bitter chuckle escaped my lips a bit into her. "Please. I volunteered and both of us knew what the consequences of that mission over Narvos four years ago would be. A nice relaxing vacation would have been nice, but…was it ever really in the cards? In a life like this? For people like us?"

Mother let out a somber breath as her wing tugged me in closer. She was an experienced officer and noble, she knew exactly the notoriety a pious little Imperial Heroine would accumulate as she accrued victories and rose in the ranks. And we both knew I had only been adopted after Navros, after I became one of the youngest aces and recipients of the Protector Crown in our Empire's history.

Meanwhile, I simply knew from past experience. It's not like vacation was ever really "vacation" in any of my last lives.

Did the Railroad Lady know about the Silver Wings Assault Badge? a paranoid voice asked. How much of my first life did she know? What about my second life? Or was she merely aware of my first death?

Sitting next to her, I settled into my mother's embrace. "Who is the Railroad Lady? If she sabotaged the train and the station then the inspector should be warned. Isn't that part of your deal with Focht?" Even as I asked the question, I could tell I'd missed the mark. Would something promising "Progress" ever damage the rails? The only thing that got her angry, and viciously so, was the damage to the rolling stock and the rails.

It was plausible that the Lady had been acting a part during our conversation, the entire exchange a mummer's game with me as a hapless, gap-jawed, slack-tailed audience of one. But, what would that gain her? How would that slip in the mask, the momentary fury glowing like magma in the bottom of the rift carved in her smile, advance her goal? How could the baptism of a newly constructed railway stop advance the pace of Progress?

Mother gave a sad little laugh. "Oh, the Lady from the Railroad is many things, but no, Tauria, she would never sabotage her precious trains. Such a thing would be contrary to her nature."

My tail chilled as I recalled similar statements during my briefings on the Tarantula Hawk. Briefings on the true owners of that cursed mirror that cost the life of one of my Pilots and many others. "Is the Lady.... one of the Gentry? The Fair Folk? One of The People of the Hill?"

The Duchess shared a withering look with Reinhild. The maid gave an apologetic shrug. "What thorn field did Angela toss you into?" Mother asked me.

"I really can't say," I demurred. Lady Legate Angela Prudentia JadeJavelin had been in charge of Operation Epimetheus, and much of that mission was still restricted, specifically the recovery of an Unseelie artifact from Elenese clutches and returning that cursed mirror.

"Save me from too-clever spooks." Mother rolled her eyes and she put an arm around me. "Daughter, you are not wholly incorrect, but you are not right enough to avoid making dangerous assumptions about the nature of our esteemed railroad representative."

I frowned, basking in Mother's comforting presence. "Not one of the Gentry then?"

Mother shook her head. "Do not assume the same limitations of those... august entities. The Railroad Lady has her own nature and remit."

"She was very upset." Looking out the window, my tail flicked. I took a lethargic sip from my mug. "But not at the wounded. The Lady was more upset by the engine's wailing brakes and the platform's failure; the screams of people were just a mild distraction..." Another flash of those scarlet eyes came to me unbidden. I shivered, could she still see us even now? Or was she busy with her own "investigation"?

"She cares about the railroad. The rails, the rolling stock, the depots. Maybe the yard workers, and train staff, but only in that they are a part of the system." The demonic duchess gripped her glass as her sharp teeth flashed. "Do not attribute our morals to a being like her."

I bit back the flicker of amusement at the incongruity of a demonic mercenary noble talking of morality, but Mother was not incorrect. "Then why keep her secret from Inspector Focht? Wasn't that little arrangement you just made to give her political cover and to protect her?

Mother gave Reinhild a tired look.

The kitsune coughed. "Ma'am, perhaps your mother the Duchess thinks that the inspector is best protected by not knowing that a being such as the Lady was present."

I exhaled. "Someone may talk. Focht is interviewing people. One of her specialists might sense the Lady's presence. DarkStar's Blood, someone on the platform could have had a camera out and captured a picture of her! Worse, that picture could have been taken in the moment when she pulled me back from the edge!"

Mother sipped her glass. "And that is why you said what you said. And why I offered to protect the inspector from the pressures of the governor and the railroads. Focht is no greenhorn and she will dig. Now, if she finds things she should not, we can provide our own leverage."

I smothered a second shiver. I loved my mother, but she was high nobility with all the social and industrial connectionist that entailed, an ace in her own right, and commanded a mercenary band under her own banner. She was not a woman to be crossed.

"It is better things be handled this way than the Lady be offered the chance to 'resolve' the good inspector to her own satisfaction." Mother's gaze went out the window. "I did not expect her to take a personal interest in you. Perhaps I should have, given she brought the hunter and Miss Crow in her wake. Did the Lady tell you anything?"

"That it would be... unlucky for me to die in such a way." The lie of omission slipped past my lips as I yawned. My life, my lives, were built upon secrets and lies.

"Perhaps one such as you dying due to a broken engine and a shoddy platform offended the Lady's sensibilities. Perhaps she would feel such a meager death caused by her beloved engines would show badly on her status. Or perhaps... she was enticed by you for the same reason that Angela and her CSR flunkies decided that dangling you before Lords and Ladies was some operational necessity."

My tail flicked. "I'm... not reassured by that."

"Quite." Mother's green eyes studied me. She always knew I had potential. From the time I had first tested for affinity with air spirits, to the fight over Narvos, to the various Imperial Intelligence and other factions reaching out to me, she saw her investment in me justified.

"If provincial authorities are not suitable, what about an imperial office?" I asked as the car bumped around the fairly well-maintained turnpike. The little town of Craw Holler had faded behind us; the woods of the Forest People, the Drow, and a host of other residents began.

Mother gave a tiny smile. "Oh?"

"Not CSR." I shook my head. "Jurisdictional issues aside, I would think someone like the Lady would be more of a well... Librarian issue."

"That is probably the officio best suited." Mother took a thoughtful sip from her glass. "But, what crime has she committed?" She quirked an eyebrow up at me.

I frowned. "She's..." yet another being who wants something from me… I couldn't that, of course. What crime had she committed? None, I suppose.

"Daughter," said the Duchess, amusement bleeding into her voice like wine staining a napkin, "this is Diyu; being an ageless eldritch woman of sinister styling isn't a crime, it's called being an icon. Now if she were to have been responsible for any sabotage, or were to take vengeance outside of the customs and rites of Offense and propriety, then there may be a case."

"That is true," I admitted gracefully conceding the point without pouting. I did not know how old or powerful the Railroad Lady was, but had I not sworn to serve and obey a being over four and a half thousand years old? Or was the Imperatrix okay because the House bore her name?

On the other wing... I would be a bit disquieted if Imperatrix BlackSky casually mentioned that she knew all about my past lives. DarkStar's Blood, back when I was stationed in the capital, the occasional social function attended by one of her Daughters was challenge enough. And as politically useful as having Felisia's card, and therefore favor, was, interacting with her had been terrifying enough.

Yet, by that same token… as terrifying as those prospects are… they are still the law of the land. I told myself. Laws I must continue to abide by if I want to be a part of this society. I cannot pretend they do not exist simply because I do not like them, not with their magnitude of power.

"However, like with any powerful person, when the Lady is concerned, caution is warranted," the Duchess allowed.

"I know enough not to make any deals with her," I scowled. I took a reassuring sip of my hot chocolate, allowing the sweet warmth to soothe me. "Not counting the whole railway development project, of course, but that's a bit out of my hands and not the least part personal."

The Duchess laughed. "But you're still preparing for the worst. Maybe it's for the best that your suit will soon be operational, ready to join those of your Vs, and," Mother gave Reinhild a respectful nod, "the plentitude of maids you brought. Only for domestic purposes, I'm sure."

"I was almost worried I was being a bit paranoid," I admitted in a quiet voice as I blinked my eyes, adrenaline from the crash winding down and now the ride contributing to my growing fatigue. Reinhild took my mug to keep it from spilling out of my hands. "Or perhaps a bit ridiculous with it."

"No you weren't, you thought you were being properly cautious." Mother chuckled as she once again looked out the window and up into the sky. "Which was very prudent."

I drowsily nodded ."I've been looking into her people, like that demoness hunter. It's all very tawdry."

"I will make the most of my time here, Daughter. You are not alone; you have a knack for getting people to follow your banner. That will be useful as you make the most of this railway project," Mother said as she brushed some of my bangs off of my forehead.

Murmuring something in agreement, I snuggled up as Mother's wing wrapped me up, and I drifted off to sleep.

+++++

"You can't be late!" VioletBlood insisted, tugging my arm. Despite the early hour, she was all dressed up, complete with her customary curls and a lavish lavender dressing gown.

To avoid the indignity of sliding on the hardwood floors in my slippers, I allowed her to pull me down the corridor. "We've got time," I assured her, finally putting my feet down when we got to the head of the manor's back stairs.

If one didn't count the iron spiral staircase connecting the library to the writing room, the building had three sets of stairs. There was a sweeping double set of stairs that went into the entrance foyer. In the middle of the building in the servant's corridor was a rather utilitarian stairwell that was almost as bad as a fleet ladderway and wrapped around a freight lift, directly linking the basement to all the other floors. And finally, in the back was a balconied set of stairs that was less grand than the front set. Shorter than standard, the treads were not quite the narrow hoof-stride of Alecton style stairs, but the stairwell still gave a good view of the solarium and the back patio.

"Oh, let her have her fun," Visha laughed. Like me, she was dressed in her Legion issue pajamas. The thickness of the woolen garments and the density of their weave were quite nice, considering how chilly the manor house could be on early winter mornings. Especially, once the doors to the bedchambers were thrown open and all the heat escaped. Try as anyone might, houses of this age were invariably drafty piles, no matter how well maintained.

"Excuse me if I don't want to go careening down the stairs," I said through grit teeth.

VioletBlood immediately sobered, and her grip turned tender. "Ah…," she slipped to my side and gave me plenty of space to take the stairs at my own speed. "I'm sorry. After what happened the other day… please forgive my mindlessness."

"I'm not some porcelain doll," I glared, feeling a genuine heat blossom in my breast.

Looking far more natural on her face, my fiancee's familiar hauteur returned. "Oh? I must have simply imagined the shelf full of blonde Diyu angel dolls adorning your writing room." I had a terrible image of her putting a hand up to her mouth and laughing in that "noble lady" manner.

"Oh? And just who procured that collection?" I riposted as I carefully strode down the steps. I had to be careful as shining garlands of silver tinsel and dried roses had been woven into the railings.

Some part of me was tempted to save myself the trouble and simply hop over the railing and fly down, but manners and good sense compelled me to use the solidly built stairs instead. We stepped down onto the back vestibule. Between the light dusting of snow outside and the decorated evergreens flanking the doorway, things had gotten more festive overnight.

I wondered if there was a whole basement storeroom full of Sabers Watch decorations. There had to be, considering the sheer combined mass of all of the decorations. Some storehouse of seasonal joviality, waiting only for the turn of the moon and a proper alignment of the stars to unleash its contents upon the helpless manor once again. This was likely the first winter that all the decorations had been unpacked in many a year, as under her custodianship Seneschal Frugi would only have put up the socially required minimum.

Out on the portico, a black-haired figure with dark green wings stood out, surveying the light flurries. Smoke curled from a briarwood pipe only to be snatched away by the snow-laden breeze.

Spotting us, the woman tamped down her pipe and approached. The glass door gating the civilization of the house away from the wilds of outdoor weather opened and Centurion Gibbs stepped inside, dusting some bits of snow off her coat.

Out of some patch of thin air or perhaps a secret hunting blind or hidden servant's corridor, a white-haired kitsune with a pair of pale fluffy tails appeared without waiting for any pretense of a summons, crossing the vestibule to both greet us and the new arrival with a smile, a nod, and an unspoken yet insistent demand.

"Ma'am," Gibbs acknowledged, pocketing her pipe and reluctantly surrendering her coat to the fox, who beamed as she accepted the damply steaming garment into her custody.

"Fancy seeing you up here at this hour," I noted.

"Countess!" VioletBlood gasped. "You can't expect to keep the Ritualista down in the basement! Let alone your head maintainer! Even downstairs servants aren't treated like mushrooms."

Gibbs gave a very dry smile and inclined her horns. "Thank you, Baroness."

"That's not what I meant!" I retorted without wailing. At least I wisely kept in the first rejoinder that entered my mind: You are saying that like mushrooms aren't valuable and worth cultivating!

Visha patted me on the shoulder. "It's okay; we know."

"Truffles are a very profitable investment" I murmured as we went down a corridor and into the main hall. "Being treated that well certainly wouldn't be an insult."

"Perhaps they aren't the only ones who want that level of pampering?" Visha teased while VioletBlood blushed.

Gibbs shook her head in a quiet chuckle. As if she needed more reason to believe we were all crazy Noble Demons.

The main hall was a long formal room that contained a large heath. Even at this hour, a small fire burned within its stone-fronted throat. Across the tall room stood an even larger fir tree, its branches heavy with shining ornaments, sparkling ribbons, and baubles glowing with foxfire. I'd have to hope that, when the little terrors from the orphanage visited, the distracting glow would prevent them from climbing up the evergreen. So far, the kits had been reasonably well-behaved; perhaps the broodlings would benefit from their example.

That might be enough to qualify as a true holiday miracle.

There were decorations and murals thick with hanging stars and banners too. Again, I wondered how far things would get as the month progressed, and the creeping kudzu of festive joy spread ever further on ever deeper mats of joviality. Every day, it seemed, fresh tendrils of holly and tinsel and foxfire lights daisy-chained on silver wire advanced, scouts for the implacable horde.

Whatever extent they might claim, I knew, would not represent the highwater mark of their tide; soon, the festivities would intensify with the arrival of even more guests. Visha's family was due to arrive in less than two weeks.

And no doubt they will arrive with their own cargo of decorations, each a treasured heirloom with stories and anecdotes dating back three generations attached – reinforcements to supplement the occupying army.

In front of the tree were a handful of brightly-wrapped boxes of varying sizes, uniform only in the giant bows adorning their flat-tops like the blossom of great ferns, all tightly curled against the winter's cold until the warmth of dawn came to break their slumber.

So too at the foot of the tree waited my mothers and sister, sentinels sitting among the drift of paper-wrapped boxes. At the table before them was a tea service and a platter of light refreshments.

I eyed both the steaming pot and the platter with wariness, lest a surprise attack of festive spirit emerge unbidden from the herbal blend.

Mother Clementia was in a slightly more casual variant of the uniform and headdress of her order, while my Duchess lounged in her own ornate dressing gown. My sister, Doctrix RedWing, wore a set of velvet purple robes tied at her waist.

"Daughter, good morning," Mother Clementia smiled as she stood up and took me in her arms.

Duchess SilverFlight also moved to embrace me. "Come, come," she said, pulling me helplessly on towards the collection of boxes. I went to my fate without complaint, fully aware of what grim burdens fate had set for me. Though the part of me that was the bloody handed Imperial Heroine was more than a bit… eager.

RedWing undermined the gravity of the moment by giving me a warm wave as her teacup was refilled by an attending maid.

The largest of the waiting boxes strongly resembled the coffin-like gift I had received at my twelfth birthday party. I glanced back to see Gibbs loitering at the far end of the room. Something almost like a smile was on the Ritualista's face.

"I know you've been very patient about receiving the final components to your suit," my Duchess said as she handed me one of the smaller boxes as my Vs edged closer.

"And instead of waiting until the twenty-seventh and risking you climbing up the walls, we decided to give it to you early," Clementia added, a sincere smile that would have been a smirk on any face other than her own slipping into place on her lips.

"But don't worry, you girls will have plenty of gifts for Sabers Watch," RedWing assured, soothing a worry I had neither expressed nor felt.

A kind gesture, for all that it was unwarranted.

Putting my sister's reassurance out of my mind, I turned to the business at hand. With bright silver paper with golden stars and a massively flounced bow, the heavy box in my hands was large enough to hold someone's head… or perhaps, something meant to wrap around a head.

Trying to ignore the nearby purr, which must have come from one or the other of my Vs, I managed to keep my tail from flicking. Despite the wrappings, none of these boxes held any surprises for me. I knew exactly what they all contained. Still… I couldn't help but wonder what could have required the combined efforts of the artisans of Honestas, SapphireFiligree, and MuArc Amalgamated for an entire month to complete. Visions filled my head of a helmet practically encrusted in religious iconography, something more baroque sculpture than war gear.

After pulling at the ribbons to carefully remove the bows, I slid out a claw and cut the tape on the wrapping paper. The newly-freed loose end of the sheet flapped around awkwardly. I tried to ignore the sighs and impatient murmuring. At least my mothers were... supportive enough, even if my Vs were complaining.

"You don't need to save the wrapping paper," Visha gently said.

"It's not..." I glanced at Mother Clementia.

She gave me a smile. "You've always been very frugal."

I had grown up in enough orphanages and served enough deployments in my various wars to learn to loathe waste.

VioletBlood leaned in, and, shocked by her sudden appearance in my personal space, I almost drew the box to my chest, barely fighting the surprise reflex down. As her hands reached out, I envisioned LoveBlood ripping up the paper in a blunt-bullish way to bypass my habits; instead, radiating sympathy, she helped hold the paper steady as I removed the wrappings, taking care to not tear it.

Giving her a little smile, I got the last of the wrapping paper off and held a plain black box. "This better not have another, smaller box inside it."

My Duchess chuckled.

I lifted the lid, removed the top padding, and stared. The rumble in my chest may have grown.

Inside was a Polyxo helmet, the blank eye lenses of its polished bone-white death mask staring back at me. It was the same mask that I had since I was twelve, the same mask that had accompanied me all over Diyu and across the Dimensional Spine.

Everyone shifted about to catch a peek. VioletBlood was the most blatant, all but laying across my back, and pressing against my wings, to get a better angle, while the maids were far more discrete. RedWing had stood and angled her gaze to give the helmet a careful examination. Meanwhile, Gibbs's surprise was so perfunctory that I knew she had to have already seen the contents of the box.

Despite being the same saint's death mask, the faceplate was also different. On Harp's World, a near miss Lance from an Elenese heavy fighter had cracked the mask and mortally damaged the rest of my suit.

Pulling the helmet out of the box to show to a hushed audience, I wondered how Honestas and SapphireFiligree had managed to repair my mask. I had assumed that, considering how much damage it had sustained, repair of the actual article would be out of the question and that they would take a cast of the mask and use it to make a replacement. At absolute most, I had considered they might seal the cracks with a color-matched alabaster binder and then polish the surface to hide the damage. That would have explained the time this all took and would have been enough to restore the integrity of the mask without leaving any hint of its past ruin.

And why would we leave any hint of that damage? We were, after all, a species that scarred only when we so desired, only when, like a tattoo or an Apology, there was meaning to the wound.

We were exempt from the legacy of our ruin, so long as that ruin only extended skin-deep.

Instead, the mask's long vertical cracks gleamed golden, their furrows filled with the precious mineral. The wider rents slashing down across the mask had likewise been filled in; the laminated fill polished to a shine that caught the light and held it against the black fabric cushioning my mask within its presentation box.

"Oh, pretty." Leaning in, VioletBlood ran a finger over the edges of the faceplate, where the mask had been mounted in the brand-new Polyxo helmet. "And it's not just the mask that's been updated, I see!"

"Indeed," Redwing observed, her drawl not concealing the smile in her voice, "that's the latest Gorgon Rig model. The Legions just approved that scrying system for general use."

I nodded absently, eyes still glued to my new mask. The updated scrying system was good, but I couldn't pull my focus away from the aesthetics of the helmet.

It was beautiful and as recognizable as the gold streaks were across the bone-white porcelain composite. I doubted coincidence had played any part in its design.

"Kintsugi?" I breathed, "But how?" I asked my Duchess, paranoid anxiety spiking.

Did Mother know about my past lives? It might have been possible that she could have known all this time, but it was unthinkable that she had never once so much as alluded to it during the years I had dwelled within her house and under her name. It had been unthinkable that anybody could know who I had been, what I had done, but then I had met Visha again, in this strange next life, and I had met the Lady from the Railroad. If my adjutant could follow me and the Lady who was not of the Courts of the Winter and Summer could recognize me, then who else might be privy to what I had so carefully kept concealed? Was this another message?

SilverFlight smiled as her air own spirits' interest increased. "This isn't the first pilot's death mask SapphireFiligree has repaired, Daughter; When I informed her of your interest in Paymonish culture, she was inspired."

My tail relaxed as I studied the mask. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and the gold lines perfectly showcased the mask's damage. "It is lovely work." I put my hand on the helmet's cheek, just brushing against my fiancee's.

"And it suits you!" VioletBlood grinned, her green eyes lighting up. Her Zephyr, as aggressive and as forceful as their mistress, crowded around, eager to examine the new mask and reacquaint themselves with my own spirits.

"That... it does..." I admitted. The aesthetic philosophy of Kintsugi, of drawing attention to the damage, to embracing change and the transience of existence fit the story of Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, not to mention the full story of my lives.

"It is lovely, showing that even something brittle can be repaired and made whole again," Visha observed while her spirits settled about, cheerful yet ever watchful.

My tail stilled, guilt balling in my chest at the reminder of all the lies I'd piled up, to both my Vs. "Thank you, Mother," I bowed my horns.

On the upside, despite having a saintly mask literally streaked with gold, no specifically religious iconography had been added to my mask.

"Oh, this is just the start!" Duchess SilverFlight purred, gesturing to the other boxes. I could feel her spirits, far older and more mature, following her arm and drifting around the boxes. If nothing else, that confirmed their contents.

I slowly put the helmet down on the room's long table.

As I opened the other boxes, I found the Polyxo Mark 16 that Gibbs had been working on this last month. There had been a suite of updates to the suit. They were both practical and... not-so-practical.

In addition to the updated Gorgon rig, the power distribution system more was robust than the previous Gamma Block, which, according to the brochure in one of the boxes, would increase suit life in beyond-redline performance ranges. That would come in handy to supply slightly beefier Veiling emitters, Warding projectors, and more robust weapons mount feeds.

To accommodate the more robust power systems, the Polyxo was thicker around the torso and down to the hips, but it still had the same waist mounting points for the flasks that held the Lance charges. That required more fillets, champhers, and sweeping curves to the slightly heavier armor design. Various fueling ports, access hatches, and plugs had been slightly adjusted. From Gibbs's easy familiarity as she helped us reassemble the suit, I supposed the changes were intended to make maintenance easier.

"This is the Zeta Block?" I asked, running my hand over the suit's open torso section, inspecting the primary energy bus. It almost felt rude to push my hand through the swirling spirits. My Zephyr had laid claim to the armor but seemed eager to show off their new home to all their friends, though I got the feeling that was in part because LoveBlood's excitable spirits would have pushed their way in regardless.

Visha's and Mother's Zephyr were calmer than my wingwoman's, so they demonstrated their shared interest in the suit with perhaps a hairsbreadth more discretion than the Baroness's rambunctious spirits. My Duchess's Zephyr were more content to watch the whole thing, lying back like she-wolves keeping an eye on a pack of gamboling pups

"Not bad for a mid-life upgrade for the Polyxo," Doctrix RedWing declared. "MuArc is still in the RP game."

"Now, now, don't fret, I doubt your beloved will have difficulty getting their suits rebuilt to Zeta standard," Mother SilverFlight said with a sharp smile.

"That just leaves nine more suits," I said, thoughtful as I slipped out of my "grateful daughter" role and back under the hat of the Legion Officer. "I guess after the Delta Block mess, MuArc didn't want to rest on their laurels with Epsilon."

"Epsilon was a stop-gap, just a collection of standard tweaks and design improvements. It was basically an update of the Delta Power system you got three years ago. All very solid work, but this..." my sister's eyes covetously went over the suit. "This has potential."

"The MuArc boffins are trying to stay atop the advanced multi-role game. Not bad, a downside was that all this new capacity will make for a slightly more fuel-hungry suit." Gibbs gestured to the artificer work on the main distribution hub with a mix of amusement and begrudging respect.

"Given what happened to the last one…" I said, mind spinning back to how close I came to rolling the dice on seeing a fourth life, "I wouldn't mind risking a thirstier suit if it'll give me an edge."

I noticed some of the others trading pointed looks, but the Duchess just gave me a nod. "A sensible opinion. Fuel is cheaper than blood, after all."

There was little I could complain about the improved capabilities of the suit, at least on paper. It would require flight testing to verify MuArc's promises. It was not that I doubted the judgment of the Legion Test and Evaluation Wing who after all had approved of the upgrade block, but they could have missed something; there were always some poorly-documented quirks.

There was still, in short, much to do and many details to handle. All of which, I decided, could be tomorrow's problem.

As the suit was revealed within its open casket, I couldn't help but notice some other "improvements" had been made as well. "Improvements" of a decidedly less than practical nature.

And we had started so well with the mask… I bit back a grimace, tail twitching all the while. I suppose I was foolish to think I would be spared from any new religious iconography.

Not all of the aesthetical changes were bad. For one, the mass grumbling we all engaged in during our appointment at MuArc appeared to have yielded some surprising fruit; now, the leg armor terminated in boots that were almost not towering and whose annoyingly elevated heels were at least slightly less spiked. Small steps, but hard-won, especially considering what havoc some angry designer must have wrecked upon my poor armor in revenge for our defiance.

"Will all Polyxo Zeta Blocks have these... additions?" I pointed to the glossy black wimple that went over the helmet, a matching gorget-like latex collar draped over the suit's pauldrons and cuirass, the similarly shiny scapular that hung from the hip mounting ring to drape between the legs, and the vast number of golden four pointed stars and other icons adorning the suit.

My mothers exchanged a look.

"A mid-life upgrade to a major suit won't all be flying nuns... will they?" I tried to ignore how much my spirits seemed to be excited by the iconography. DarkStar's Blood, I suppose I should be happy none of those stars were made to spin. I would never hear the end of that. Though, the attention of my spirits did make the marks seem to glow under the lights. Their motion probably was shining up the golden sigils, giving them more of a luster.

Yes. It was a simple spiritual reaction.

"That latex frippery is for parade flights, demonstrations, and other ballet-like displays," Gibbs said dryly as she wiped down some of the suit with a clean rag. She was already proceeding down a checklist like the professional she was, testing couplings and joints and double-checking that the energy systems were still locked out and powered down.

I doubted that polishing those golden stars spangling the armor's flanks was strictly necessary, though, or on the standard maintenance checklist. Maintenance crew were infamous in their superstitions.

Then again, given our line of work adds magic, spirits, and souls to the mix, I suppose an ounce of caution doesn't' hurt. I reasoned. Especially given that recent revelation that the Fae are a genuine strategic concern of House BlackSky. If CSR has to worry about the Lords and Ladies, who's to say that Gibbs doesn't actually have to contend with literal gremlins?

"Which we have lots of experience with," VioletBlood added, giving an unnecessarily bright and perky smile to evoke the parade-ground exhibition feel. Following her focus, the redhead's spirits darted up from the suit to swirl all around me.

"And my suit will have some of Her stars as well. So will Lucia and a few others," Visha admitted, her quiet support flowing over my wings like a warm blanket.

I exhaled. While I did not want to be the only one flying around in some sort of graven altar, it was not exactly better to be flying at the head of some band of DarkStar-botherers. Especially since I knew that not everyone in the Squadron was part of the Faith.

"Oh, DarkStar emblems won't be mandatory," VioletBlood assured. "Besides, good Veils cover up minor personalization touches. Plenty of pilots paint and mark their suits."

"LoveBlood, we're Legionaries, not a religious order militant," I pointed out, crossing my arms. "This is considerably beyond cosmetic graffiti."

"You are literally a warrior nun." My fiancee reached out and poked my nose.

Sputtering, my feathers puffed up in irritation. "That's not... I mean, that's different!"

"Novitiates still count," VioletBlood teased as she looked at my mothers. "And counting the parade elements as noncombat features, none of this is against the regulations for cosmetic ornamentation, unless you think our Wing's Tribune and the Squadron Commander won't approve."

"Wha-?…I'm our Squadron Commander," I looked at her, baffled.

LoveBlood simply gave me a haughty smirk full of the arrogance a demonic baroness could call upon.

Mother Clementia smiled. "It's okay, Dear," she reassured me with a quick hug, squashing my grumbling. "Nobody will think you've pledged yourself to the next crusade or joined a commandery. All will be well."

I went back to my Polyxo. At least the more ostentatious ornamentation would be removed before flight. "I'll need to give it some shakedown flights."

"This is a good opportunity to evaluate the Zeta Block instead of immediately throwing it into combat," Gibbs begrudgingly said before sipping her coffee and having a bit of the light pastries that had been laid out.

"And you can build a lessons learned list for the Squadron level rollout," I nodded.

"I suppose we'll have to start the requisition process to get eleven, well ten at the moment, Zeta upgrade kits," Visha noted with a tinge of melancholy.

"Would MuArc do a bulk discount?" VioletBlood wondered aloud, paging through the glossy brochure.

"By their standards, a dozen units is hardly bulk," my sister noted.

Which was fair. Including contracts issued by the Fleet, the Legion, various allied Houses, and other organizations of scale and note, MuArc had built over six thousand Polyxo. Most, though, were still Mark 14 or earlier. I looked up from the Ritual Plate. "They're tooling up a service wide update for Mark 16 dash Zeta Block?"

Mother SilverFlight shrugged. "Reserve units, mercenaries, and orders militant will still be taking hand-me-downs. But once most of Fleet and Legion's advanced multi-role suits upgrade, there will be plenty of Gamma and Delta Blocks, and other parts sets, waiting to find alternative uses."

"Or kept as spares," Gibbs added.

Which was generally how such things were handled, in the great shell game of logistics. My own replacement suit was factory-built as an Epsilon Block, which showed just how new the Zeta was. I wondered if MuArc would switch the Polyxo production line over, or if they would focus on distributing upgrade kits to see how the Zeta Block performed before committing a major factory retool.

Part of me wondered if it would be a major retool. Ritual Plate were very modular, especially BlackSkyvian models. That very modularity was intended to maximize the service life of a given suit. On the other Wing, a block upgrade to the power system was a large part of an RP's most expensive components, putting the cost of upgrading an old suit only fractionally below the cost of buying an entirely new system.

I managed to keep the frown off my face. Maybe MuArc were not the only ones playing their cards cautiously here. My mother was more than a high-ranking noble: she was a Legion reserve officer, ran a mercenary company, and had many business interests. All roles that prized money management highly and rarely failed to jump on an opportunity to collect some actionable intel.

Conveniently for her, she had just purchased an example of a major upgrade package MuArc Amalgamated would very much want to put into mass production. An upgrade package her young Ace Pilot daughter could test fly while her older daughter, a professor with research experience on RP evocation systems, would be on hand to evaluate the newly upgraded suit's performance.

Despite all of that, I had no doubt that Mother's intentions weren't purely profit driven. My Duchess had bought me an entire Polyxo before and Doctrix RedWing was here because she wanted to get to know me better. If anything else happened beyond that , certainly it was just a happy coincidence, no?

Besides, Mother was a patriot. If MuArc had made another dud like their Delta Block or, DarkStar forbid, managed to produce an even worse example of a total failure, then she would want to find it out earlier rather than later. And a Duchess in her position had the ear of several Volantes Legates in the Imperial Legion's general staff.

Further, the Duchess had family, and family to be, flying those suits. She had every interest to make sure MuArc Amalgamated's latest batch of glossy brochure promises weren't hollow.

"Perhaps we could do some flying together, Mother?" I asked. It was not only that this would give her a chance to see first hand how the suit performed, but it had been a long time since I had flown with her.

"I would be delighted." Mother's eyes sparkled as she gave a very happy emotional pulse. "How fortuitous that I brought my Harmonia, hmm?"

RedWing looked up from the plate she was filling with pastries, fruits, and various cured meats from the buffet service that the maids had been bringing out platter by platter and gave me a tiny nod of approval.

VioletBlood's tail practically quivered. I knew she was also eager to go flying with her future mother-in-law, but with great personal restraint, she held herself back.

Maintaining her composure, Gibbs bowed her horns to the Duchess and me. "Your Grace, Ma'am, if you'll allow it, the girls and I have been working through the squawk list on the suit and there's only some minor faults, so it will be ready for a basic shakedown at your convenience. I can also prep your Harmonia as well, your Grace."

"Thank you Centurion," I gave her a respectful bow, reading between the lines of her statement. Unless the suit was pitching a major fault, Gibbs was not in the position to tell her superior officer "no", and the woman was savvy enough to not directly countermand nobles.

"Thank you, my own suit could use some checking Centurion," my Duchess agreed, bowing her horns to the Ritualista. "And thank you for loaning me space to store my Ritual Plate."

"The fruit cellar has space for one more RP, Your Grace," Gibbs shrugged as tension came out of her wings. I suspected she knew SilverFlight would be reasonable about this, but part of Gibbs would be afraid of sword-nobles going off and doing some fool thing or another.

Still, the prospect lifted my mood. Once again, I had a functional Ritual Plate, and I would be able to do my first test flight with my mother at my side.

As my other mother was looking over the suit, she gave the glossy DarkStar sigils a very interested look. "Daughter, would it be too forward if we used your other gift on this one?"

It took me a wing-beat to realize she was referring to the small silver censer I had been gifted by the church. And another for Reinhild to appear by my side and hand me the velvet lined box that contained the battered but ancient artifact.

"Of course not," I said with genuine joy. Religious trappings aside, burning incense was a key part of the ritual of acclimatizing spirits to a new set of hardware.

I opened the box and pulled out the small, dented silver ball with its perforations. Despite its humble appearance, it had been there, a small piece of the furnishing present at the conclusion of the wars that had most defined our history. Allegedly, it had been made from a fragment of a blade that had tasted Her blood. While the truth of that was debatable, its age was not, and just its historical value alone was enough to make the censer immensely valuable. Another relic the Order had entrusted in my care.

Undoing the clasp with its red stone, I put a pinch of incense from the small tin that Mother Clementia had offered. With a word, I set it alight and closed the small ball.

Dangling by its chain, fragrant smoke began to come out of the little ball. As it swung, the light seemed to shift. The DarkStar symbols, etched into the suit like constellations of gold, went from merely lustrous to nearly luminous.

Still eating a sausage, RedWing sauntered over, clearly interested in the rite.

My Vs were also torn between watching and getting their own breakfasts. Eventually, hunger won out, as it so often did among demons. Thankfully for me and for my grumbling stomach, Visha did not abandon me for the temptations of the breakfast buffet and returned with a plate for me in addition to the one heaped high for her.

Calling upon years of clerical training, I swung the censer at the exact frequency prescribed for such times while Mother closed her eyes and inhaled.

The room's aromatic air held taut as the attention of the spirits focused on the nun. The rest of us, as one, made the sign of the four pointed star over our chests.

Mother Clementia opened her eyes and stepped up to the suit. The fragrant smoke swirled around her. "Blessed DarkStar, your servants are in the midst of many and great dangers, and by reason of the frailty of our natures, we cannot always stand upright."

As she spoke and, doubtless carried by the innumerable Zephyr, the incense-laden air flowed into the Polyxo. The censer shone as the smoke settled about, its plumes still full with engraved whorls and enchanted arabesques despite its confinement within the plate.

Hands clasped, Mother bowed her head before the saintly death mask. "Hallowed Lady, grant my daughter and those under her banner such strength and protection; support them in all danger; enchant and empower their armor; sharpen their swords; strengthen their spirits, and carry them through all temptations and tribulations."

The atmospheric pressure in the room mounted as the litany progressed. My wings ruffled in a sudden breeze and the deceptively plain censer began to glow with a luminosity to equal the icons on my suit. The air hung, thick but somehow not oppressive, as Mother paused at the height of her invocation. Suddenly, the smoke cleared from my suit in streams of ashy greys and whites pluming up in a jet. Just a moment, all the white ceramic pieces, steel plates, and black latex componentry shone with a warm, comforting light, as if the Polyxo had somehow called to itself all the firelight of the hearth burning in the room.

Then the legion of Zephyr rushed away from the suit to swirl around the room before settling back under their mistress's wings. In their wake the four-pointed stars, the icons of the Hallowed lady, every banner of scripture, and every other icon radiated a sharp silvery light before fading back to a more conventional luster.

"We beseech you so. Amen," Mother concluded, lifting her head.

Putting down the censer, its incense fully consumed, I accepted the plate Visha handed me while VioletBlood slipped up to my other side. The Vs looked from the suit to my mother, and it did not take an empath to divine their intentions.

Bearing a second plate, my Duchess leaned over to Mother Clementia and offered her some breakfast before asking.

"Fascinating…" my Duchess purred, eye twinkling with some arcane energy. "Could I trouble you to bless my suit just as brilliantly?"

Mother Clementia smiled. "It would be my pleasure."

I frowned around a bite of sausage, having a faint feeling that I was missing something.

+++++

Putting my cup down on its saucer, I closed the dossier I had been reading. stepped away from my desk, and looked out the window. The sky was a steel grey overcast and light glinted off the frosted grounds.

"Ma'am, your flight will be in half an hour," said Reinhild, resplendent in her frilled grey and white uniform, as she stepped into my reading room.

"Thank you," I said absently, more of an acknowledgement than a reply. I continued to gaze outside at the picturesque winter day splayed out with almost indecent seasonal grandeur before me. While the room was very cozy, with its shelving, locking cabinets, and comfy chairs, where the outside was windy, chilly, and overcast, I was looking forward to my flight tonight.

Reinhild gave the dossier a meaningful look.

"You can lock that up in the cabinet," I said, nodding at the folder and then returning to the window. My tail swished in anticipation; it would be a nice break from all this tawdry railroad business.

"Anything of note?" Reinhild inquired as she opened the wood-veneered filing cabinet.

"Inspector Focht's investigation continues," I sighed, "Accounting irregularities have been found among maintenance and construction budgets..."

"But?" my head maid prompted with polite, but sincere, interest when I trailed off.

"But…" My lip curled with distaste, "A number of guilders, county supervisors, petty nobles, and at least one provincial comptrollia who have gone missing." Tail darting around with pent up frustration as I stared out over the frozen grounds. "Quite mysteriously."

Reinhild closed the cabinet with a click. "They took the money and ran?"

My anger was replaced by a flare of dark amusement. "Oh, they can try. But embezzlement on this scale takes time to arrange. Time and effort. The paperwork that needs to be forged, the flunkies that need to be recruited... Effort that is not so easily swept under the rug once they've arranged their game of graft and forgery. Too many talons in the till, too many corners cut," I chuckled.

"And what better place to recruit and forge than among the peddlers and swells of Craw Holler and other dens of flim-flamery. DarkStar knows they'd have the experience," Reinhild darkly muttered.

"Perhaps. Though many of them have submitted claims to my Duchess's court, and now the butcher's bill is due. In a selfish way I'm even somewhat relieved at the scope of things," I admitted

My eye was pulled to the window again as time ticked down, gaze lingering on the faint traces of snow falling from the sky. Nothing but scattered flurries, but they still made a bit of anxiety creep in. As eager as I was to fly a Ritual Plate again, memories of the last time I had flown were present.

It had a been cold and snowy morning on Harp's World too, I thought to myself.

"Ma'am?"

"This is far above my paygrade," I explained, pushing down those negative feelings. I didn't need to worry, Doctrix Olivia OakStone had recertified me fit for flight duty. My Benzodril dosage had even been reduced and I could sleep most nights without bad dreams waking up my Vs.

I was fine.

"It's more than just some townies bribing country notables with contracts and a bit of skimming. With such pervicacious and, frankly, audacious corruption, however... maybe it's for the best that my mother the Duchess was at that train station. Without her personal involvement, I can only imagine the stone-walling any investigation would have encountered. With her supporting Focht and her people combing the Province, though it's just a matter of time before all those responsible are discovered," I said with confidence I did not quite feel.

I shifted uneasily; it wasn't strictly pleasant to speak so plainly about those who had caused such damage for such petty reasons. Some of their victims had already petitioned my court for justice and restitution, and supporting them would impose another burden on my somewhat threadbare demesne. My time was finite and with the coming of the new year I would soon have to return to the Legions and everything to my seneschal.

Worse, I could only imagine who else had profited from this climate of unquestioned graft, above and beyond all the little fishes caught in Inspector Focht's nets. For someone with an iota of care and a smidge of discretion, the opportunity had been obvious and easy to exploit. Their tracks, smudged under all the evidence of lesser criminals, might easily go entirely undetected. A patient woman enmeshed in such a program could have skimmed, double-dealed, and feather-bedded to tidy profits all without causing an accident that caught the eye of Provincial, and more… arcane, authorities.

The eyes of the thing that had named itself a representative of the Railroad, no line specified, glowed in my mind like twin views into a furnace; her neat, perfect teeth, each as white as mourning and as sharp as the Serpent's tooth, brimmed like the catchers mounted to the prow of her great engines. I closed my own eyes and heard the thunder of her approach, the whistle of the steam and the pulsing of the great steel wheels and the shriek of metal on metal… or was that the scream of something much softer, something made from meat caught helplessly between the merciless steel on steel of an unstoppable machine?

"Ever onwards and ever upwards, Countess!"

"Then," I sighed, feeling a tired weight on me as I pushed my eyes open, "we might never find out what happened that day on the platform, and my citizens might never reach closure."

Silence grew over the room as the ticking of the clock grew dominant.

"Shall I draw you a bath?" the kitsune inquired after a couple minutes, tails swishing. "The bathhouse is at quite the lovely temperature today. Perhaps I can lay out your flight suit for you on the bed?"

"Ah, there's no need for all that," I assured, my gaze going down to the back portico. They were mostly out of sight, but I could catch a glimpse of Gibbs and the other Ritualista. They had brought up a pair of arming chairs, several crates, and a pair of RP caskets, and were running tests.

My Zephyr responded to my anticipation and anxiety. If anything, they were even more giddy at the idea of taking to the air with real speed.

"Any refreshments?" the kitsune offered.

"No, thank you," I said. I hadn't flown, at least in a suit, since Harp's World, and I was eager to get back into the air.

There was another very gentle knock, and Reinhild let Visha into the room. My wingwoman had a small smile as she stepped up next to me by the windows.

She glanced down at my curled tail and took my hand in hers.

"Miss SunShower, can you give us a moment?" Visha asked.

I blinked, that was oddly forward of my wingwoman.

The kitsune bowed and slipped out, closing the door behind her.

"Visha?" There didn't seem to be a reason for her to be here.

"What's bothering you?" Bluntness aside, her voice was soothing, a balm in my ears.

"It's nothing," I brushed it off with a shrug.

The grip on my hands grew more firm, though not painful. "If you aren't going to trust me…"

"No, no!" I jerked my head in a denial. "It's just... It has been a... while since I've flown, really flown. And I have been looking forward to it," I stated, my wings twitching.

I exhaled. "But… I won't deny having some... anxiety."

"It's not just the trauma from Harp's World, is it?" Visha's voice was soft as she took a step closer to me.

"It's not?" I turned away from the windows to look at my companion. "The train accident was bad but..."

"Have you talked to LoveBlood about it?" she quickly pushed.

Her question caught me off guard. "What about you?" I played for a moment to think.

"We're talking about you right now." Visha's smile turned a bit wry, before she whispered in Germanian of all things, "And we're keeping secrets from her."

It took me a moment to register the words. "Ah, it's about that," I stated, the distant tongue awkward on my demonic lips. "Why now?"

Tail flicking, she raised an eyebrow. "Come now, Colonel."

The alien rank, one I had last used a lifetime, ago stuck out and sliced through me. "Is this about my mortality?" I quietly asked.

"In more ways than one," Visha's smile briefly returned. "She's going to be our wife, she deserves to know, don't you think? Besides, with how long demons live, and the way our lives are likely to go… well, she's going to have suspicions."

"She is more perceptive than she lets on," I admitted with a grimace. My Baroness was often quite content to let others think of her as just a headstrong noble of the sword. It was really only half true, her surprising cunning often coming in when one least expected it.

"And you are... noteworthy. An Imperial Heroine, with how many miracles under your belt?" She pulsed a bit of amusement. "And that's in this life alone."

"Alas, I wasn't smart enough to be as discrete with my advantages as you were with yours," I replied with a grin, one that curdled as the denarii dropped.

In this life alone.

"Compared to your lofty achievements? My advantages weren't much. It's not hard to be discrete with just a baseline level of competence," Visha smirked. "We can't all be the 'Eleventh Goddess', now can we?"

Shifting my emotions, I tried to keep my smile in place and tail from freezing. This wasn't just about VioletBlood.

Visha could see the head start reincarnation, and all the experiences, brought a young woman. She could see that now, in this life. But... but in her first life, she knew me as the too-young, too-experienced officer.

One who was wise beyond her years.

And hindsight was the difference between Lieutenant Viktoriya Serebryakov and Primus Centurion Victorious Shadow. She might wonder exactly why Being X had picked me to torment, and for how long it had been interfering in my life.

My hand unconsciously clenched, squeezing hers. "It's also... well, the holidays... and this is a time when we're on vacation..."

"And soon the house will be full of broodlings. Maybe it's better to have a discussion before the little terrors are all underfoot." Visha's smile grew as she thought of her family.

That was another thing that was gnawing at me. A rather morbid upside to VioletBlood's family being nearly extinguished in the Imperatrix's service was that I only had to meet her younger cousin. Meanwhile, I had to meet Victorious's parents, and her sisters.

"The house will be very full," I allowed as my body relaxed and my tail started to uncurl. I exhaled. "We should tell her, but not now."

"Of course not now!" Visha flashed me a teasing grin and slapped me on the shoulder, "You still have to go play dress-up with your mothers!"

"Oh?" I arched a playful brow as my mood rose. "Are you going to call suiting up to fight the enemy 'playing dress-up with House Elena' next?"

The brunette gave a self assured smile, her tail swishing happily. "I might."

I chuckled, "I'm tempted to allow that with the Squadron. If nothing else, it'd be good for morale."

My attention went back out the window. For a moment, I just let the two of us stand there in companionable silence, letting the time tick further away until my scheduled date with the air once more. Eventually, though, I chose to break the silence.

"LoveBlood does deserve more," I admitted. The problem was that if I told my Baroness... then I would have to tell Visha as well.

I spread out my senses and tried to get a read on Visha. How much did she know? How much did she suspect? What would her reaction be to learning the truth? She'd understand, right?

Visha put her free arm around my shoulder. "We can trust her."

"I don't disagree." I took comfort in her presence. However, upon learning about Being X and the Archangel, I knew my fiancee would take some LoveBlood-style slant to it all. "But what if she thinks I'm some saintly figure? Like what if she thinks I'm to be the champion, the sword of a reborn DarkStar?"

Raising an eyebrow, Visha gave me a skeptical look. "Would she be wrong? Aren't you the custodian of one of Her relics now?" Her tail curled a bit around me.

"It's a censer that may have had part of one of her relics melted down and incorporated into its material during the forging, not a relic itself. It's not that important," I countered.

Visha shrugged, entirely unmoved by my explanation. "I wouldn't worry too much about her reaction."

"You don't think our Baroness will do something crazy?"

Visha studied me for a long moment, then she smirked.

"Well, I seem to remember you leading an entire battalion of madmen into charging the gates of heaven so they could help you fight god. And won." Her smirk gained a toothy edge as she poked me in the collarbone. "And given I happened to be one of those madmen? I think you like crazy."

I gaped at her, utterly lost for words.

"That's…I mean…" I tried fruitlessly, tail flailing and wings fluttering as my tongue worked uselessly. "D-don't be ridiculous! B-being X wasn't a god!"

Her fanged smirk just remained in place, tail swaying from side to side, like the oh so content cat that caught the canary. "I'm just saying… you're more familiar with her brand of 'crazy' than you think."

"I…" a sigh escaped my lips. "Perhaps you aren't wrong"

"You could think about it from another perspective," Visha observed as we watched the Baroness fussing around the portico, talking to my mothers and the Ritualista. "She likes having mothers, for one."

"And with one as a Duchess..." I wilted a bit under the gently chiding look of those brown eyes. "No, no, I know there's more than the political angle. And while I had Mother Clementia, VioletBlood had distant aunts and tutors."

My tail went limp at the thought. How much of VioletBlood's... VioletBlood-ness was due to her being a war orphan? It was an interesting contrast, as I, being quite normal, did not have her rampant egotism or... quirks.

A small, sad smile crossed Visha's face. "It is good that we're here for her," she slowly said.

"She can be very clingy," I remarked, shifting to get a better look at my fiancee down below. "But that just shows there's more to her behind that haughty mask."

"As I'm sure you'd know better than anyone." Visha smiled.

I frowned up at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Visha gave a small chuckle and changed the subject. "Do you see what she's doing down there?"

"She's got some sort of sketch she's showing Gibbs?" With every life, my eyesight had gotten better, but there were still limits.

"She's giving them your measurements, so they can fit your new suit to you. Come, we should get you dressed," Visha said, as she pulled me away from the window.

I nodded. All three of us were still growing, which required periodic suit resizing. A new suit was given a list of bulk measurements, while the fine fitting required a veritable data package of dimensions. Even with VioletBlood's help, I was sure Gibbs would need to do a few adjustments once I was in my new Polyxo. A frown grew. "Wait... how did she get such detailed measurements?"

Visha's head slowly rotated to stare at me in disbelief. With one hand, she gestured to the flight suit that had been spread out on the large bed that dominated the room, and then to the red and silver gown waiting on a dressmaker's dummy.

I eyed the ruffled confection with minor apprehension. Such were the duties of station. "Fine, I suppose LoveBlood had ample opportunity to get my measurements."

Visha laughed as she helped me change into the flight suit. At least the blue garment was functional and not some skintight bodysuit crafted out of latex or, even worse, leather. Not for the first time, I found myself thankful that I had been born under House BlackSky – those worse options were anything but theoretical. Some other Houses insisted on decidedly different designs for the inner layers of their Ritual Plate.

Just remember Tauria, I reminded myself. It can always get worse.

I lifted my wings and adjusted my tail as the suit was zipped up, then helped Visha do up the straps. It was possible for one person to put on and tighten a flight suit, but it was easier to have your wingwoman help you.

I checked all the buckles, cuffs, booties, and then thoroughly went over my emergency kit. Visha then stepped in and double checked all my rigging.

Unconsciously, I moved to reciprocate and stopped when it dawned that she was in a simple woolen skirt and matching sweater. "It's not too late. We can get your suit up from the fruit cellar. Maybe LoveBlood's too. The four of us could do some Flight-level training."

"That's a lovely offer, but..." Visha patted me on the shoulder and tightened a strap. "This is a moment for you and your mother."

Keeping my tail from swishing, I nodded.

"Okay," said Visha, stepping back after giving me a quick inspection. "You're ready."

"But don't think I'm letting you get away so easily next time." I grinned and idly wondered when we had switched back to Silvan Latin. "I have to make sure the two of you can still keep up, after all."

"Oh?" Visha's lips slid playfully skywards. "I'm always more than happy to accept your invitations to dance. We just need to find the right ballroom. Or would you prefer a ballet stage?"

"True," I sighed wistfully, tail flicking, "the audience so rarely appreciates a good performance."

The two of us went to the door and found Reinhild waiting in the hallway with her head bowed. "My Lady? Shall we?"

I turned and saw at least half a dozen kitsune in their crisp uniforms waiting behind her. I gave Visha a backward glance.

"Wasn't my idea," she assured, hands up in denial.

"At least there's no censers or banners." I shook my head, went into the hallway, and let the maids form an honor guard as we made our way to the back stairs.

As we descended the stairs, the doors to the portico were opened by two of Mother's servants. The two catgirl maids stood to either side of the threshold and bowed.

I bit down the mix of anxiety and irritation on the pomp and ceremony. Crossing to the open doors, I caught Gibbs's eye.

Tail still, my head Ritualista quickly-concealed her irritation by taking up a clipboard next to the waiting Polyxo suit to study the pre-flight checklist.

My heart lifted at the sight of my mothers standing to either side of the waiting arming chair. My Duchess stood imperious and sleek in her grey and black Harmonia suit while Mother Clementia was in her glossy habit, gently waving the relic censer.

I eyed the billowing smoke; so much for my optimism. I looked around and was pleasantly surprised to see that no banners of my personal heraldry had been hung from the pillars

Perhaps hope hadn't quite fled completely.

A likely story, I chided myself. Thinking like that is how they get you.

Tracking my gaze, VioletBlood strode up to me. Dressed in something akin to evening wear, she wore a shiny purple skirt bodice combo that flared out over glossy black tights and a blouse with puffed shoulders and white cuffs . "I decided to ease up and make things subtle," she whispered, leaning in close.

I stared at her incredulously. This was your idea of subtle?

Bold as brass, my fiancee, simply smiled, swished her tail and briefly curled it around mine.

Of course, what was I thinking? I sighed internally. By LoveBlood's standard this is subtle.

After all, she didn't hire a band.

My Duchess stepped forward; the crimson "remove before flight" ribbons fluttering from her suit. A tall woman, she practically loomed over me. Height was the least of all the ways she stood taller, though; as a much older demon, her social and military rank were well above mine. Beyond all that, she wore her Harmonia with a fully modern block of upgrades fresh from MuArc Amalgamated. The air superiority suit was a well-warded, high scrying, maneuverable, and well-armed platform.

Wait…well armed? I blinked, eyes rapidly picking out all the weapon modules still attached to her suit for what was supposed to be a recreational flight.

It was one thing to perform a simple flight with ward emitters emplaced – the arcane devices were integrated into the primary suit system, and thus they were not worth removing for casual flying. However, that Mother had the weapons modules attached to her suit was something else entirely. The weapon systems would have been easy enough to leave off, as RP weapons were designed for easy removal and replacement.

Why was Mother going to fly armed? Was she going to spring a live-fire exercise on me? Or was this noble paranoia? Perhaps the Provincial Inspector requested a hunt?

Or… My gut curdled, instincts born from many long years, bloody missions, and more than one life spent tossed from job to job that had started out "simple" and gotten "complicated" fast. Something else is going on…

"Daughter," the Duchess said, the one word full of weight as she bowed her horns to me. Her tail curled slightly as her vast purple wings extended.

Gibbs managed to contain her impatience at all the pageantry. As a senior Ritualista, she knew best to not get in the way of what she considered pilot posturing especially, noble pilot posturing.

Swirling around like gamboling puppies, my Zephyr excitedly flew between myself, Mother's suit, and the waiting Polyxo. Like Mother's Harmonia, my suit was fitted for combat; the multi-role RP was configured in its air superiority configuration. Which, armament aside, was my preference. Anxious or not, I wanted to do some high speed flying.

I had thought my Zephyr were eager upon first seeing my suit, but that was only a precursor to the infectious spirit they displayed. The air spirits were more than intelligent enough to know what incense and an RP in pre-flight mode meant.

They had missed flying too.

Their own spirits lifted at the sight, Duchess SilverFlight and my Vs smiled.

"Volantes Prefect Centurion on deck!" Visha bellowed, snapping to attention as she remembered herself and, pulling her eyes away from the Zephyr, threw a salute, fingers tapping her neck.

VioletBlood, Gibbs, the other Ritualista, and all the maids fell-in a moment later.

I gave a bemused blink before returning the salute. "At ease," I said, making sure not to shake my head.

I turned to SilverFlight; as a Tribune, she outranked me. "They already did this before I got suited up," she assured me as one of her maids handed her a helmet.

I gave VioletBlood a look. My fiancee's tail swished as she gave that toothy grin.

This time, I did shake my head as I made my way to the arming chair and the waiting suit.

Latches were undone as the chest armor and limbs of the Polyxo opened wide. Turning, I looked down and, with the careful deliberate steps of years of experience as a dancer and further first-hand experience suiting up on the pitching deck of an airship, stepped into the open boots.

Once my feet were ensconced in the wedge-heeled metal footwear, I carefully sat back down, Gibbs guiding me down so my flight suit didn't snag. Sitting in the arming chair, I rolled my shoulders back and up under the pauldrons.

Familiar weight settled over me as the armor was bolted around my body. Careful, professional hands moved my tail into place, and made sure my wings were lined up. Gibbs checked every connection while the other Ritualista used the tools that sealed the Ritual Plate around me.

Armor segments were folded up between my wings, over my legs, and down my arms. My breastplate was locked into place, and all the seals around my neck and gorget were adjusted.

True to my VioletBlood's scheming, there was little need to resize or change the fit of my Polyxo. Despite all the iconography and religious frippery, the suit felt responsive and powerful.

"Ease up, please," Gibbs stated after glancing at a display board. "We're still calibrating the energy distribution system. Flavia, open up the primary power bus."

"Confirm power feed, aye," Flavia agreed as I felt a thunk above my hips as a relay reset and power fed from the main cells.

Flexing my hands, I glanced down and breathed. "I'm nudging my Zephyr into idle."

"Hmph, well their excitement is screwing with my baseline tests," Gibbs grunted as she checked off a couple entries on her clipboard. "Finally. Synchronization is nominal. Laurentia bring the helmet."

The blue-skinned Ritualista approached. Between her hands, the gold-repaired death mask stared back at me.

The wind picked, up and Laurentia's tail flicked as my Zephyr tugged at her arms.

A stern expression and the renewed focus of my will settled them down. "Patience, we will be flying soon enough," I murmured before lowering my head slightly.

With the censer's smoke calming the spirits, Laurentia rotated the helmet, expertly undid the clasps, and slipped it around my horns. My vision went dark as the armor slid into place.

The eye slits lined, up restoring vision as Laurtina's nimble hands checked that instrument cables were connected, as well as the power, scrying, and comms connections. With the casual-seeming effort from years of experience, she did the neck seals and stepped back. Gibbs took her place and cross checked her work before making that on the checklist.

Taking a few breaths, I got used to the claustrophobic feel of a suit in pre-start mode. The factory fresh scent of lingering etching chemicals and the tang of new runes combined with the lapping compounds used to polish the repaired mask. It was a familiar scent and one that would wane as the suit got used, but at least it blunted the incense mother Clementia was burning.

Through the eye slits, I could see my Vs were watching, pride on their faces. Mother had lowered her faceplate, and I could only see a saint's death mask staring back, but I could feel her reassurance.

The critical instruments and status indicators were all showing green. "I am reading green on connections and air supply. Power bar is at nominal idle. Starting Heads Up Display."

I flicked the activation command and the illusionary magic powered up, a series of maps, gyroscopes, diagnostics, and command channels all flicking to life at the edge of my vision. "Doing instrument squawk."

"Instrument squawk, aye," Gibbs stated.

Focusing on the suit's controls, I flipped the setting, and all the dials, illusionary and physical, flipped to their max settings, dipped down to minimum, then settled back on their expected levels. I frowned. Most of the needles and dials, virtual on the HUD and tiny backups placed at the edge of my vision, blinked and rolled as they reacted to the minute variations of the magical systems they were measuring.

There were a couple exceptions. The altimeter and airspeed indicators remained rock solid. On an airship RP bay, they would be bouncing around a bit, but we were on solid ground. However, there was another reading that should be giving slight variations but was holding far too steady.

"Main power reading must be off. I think the needle's stuck; both the indicator display and the analog backup are fixed at the same value," I reported.

Even the Gamma Power Block system of my old suit had some baseline level of flutter when idling. The power fluctuations at that state weren't really an issue, but they were a decent way to double check that the instrumentation equipment was in a condition to correctly read that minute flutter. When idling, something that small wouldn't matter. In the middle of a supersonic Lance battle, it could be the difference between life and death. Making sure our gear could correctly read, regulate, and if necessary, trigger emergency systems should such fluctuations crop up was vital.

Frowning, Gibbs tapped at the glass diagnostic board she had plugged into the suit. "Negative, Ma'am. I'm reading that the gauge is matching power performance."

I rotated my head to stare up at her.

"Yeah, the boffins decided to show off on the power management systems on this new Block." Gibbs held up a hand in a vaguely irritated motion. "Seems like a lot of work to focus on smoothing out low range performance, when the flutter was already within tolerances. Supposedly it's a result of the updated power architecture."

I saw Professor RedWing about to speak, but after gauging our mother's emotional emissions, my older sister decided it was better to postpone her lecture.

"Comm check," I said, looking at the lonely communications board. Normally I would have, at the very least, a link to Flight Ops, my commander Tribune Quirinus, my Flight leaders, and the rest of my Squadron. This time, the only links were to ground support, Bovitar air-control, and a certain reserve Tribune.

"Comm check, confirm," Mother's voice came clear into my ears. She stood several feet away, her own saintly mask was down, and Flavia was busy removing the various ribbons and doing the final pre-fight check.

"Ma'am, flight path status?" I asked, falling into old habits.

"Confirm, flight is logged, Prefect," Mother replied, then her tone lightened. "You'll have fun daughter."

I wonder if she means fun, or "Fun"? I thought. Knowing my luck, the latter.

"Understood." I nodded and switched to external speakers. "Comm check complete. Let's go down the rest of the list."

"Aye," Gibbs replied before formally going through the rest of the suit's systems.

Propulsion, navigation, scrying, life support, weapons, maneuvering, wards, targeting, and veiling were systematically checked. The water tube was sipped from, and the canteen and broth cube dispenser were verified to be filled.

And then Gibbs got to the end of her checklist. "Polyxo reads as ready." Completing the ritual, she then held out her hand.

I took it in my armored gauntlet, the articulated metal glove folding over her fingers. My chief Ritualista then pulled me up onto my high-heeled metal-shod feet. Zephyr whirled around me fluttering the silver-trimmed latex accessories that had been added to my suit as the pre-flight ribbons were removed. With their religious icons, the glossy black wimple and scapular have added to the iconography on the chestplate, thigh flanks, and faceplate.

Now on my feet, the next task was the mobility check. Taking a few steps to clear the arming chair and to get far enough where I wouldn't anciently hit anyone, I fell into the familiar Ritual Plate stride. The suit was heavy, but my Zephyr reacting to the enchantments into the armor were trying to boost my motion. It took focus to avoid the floating, yet ponderous stride greenhorn pilots tended to fall into.

The good news was that I could walk in the suit, and far more comfortably now that my heels had been lowered. Next, I lifted my arms above my head and bent at the waist, first dipping left, then right, then forward, and finally backward. Cambré complete, I next did a Retiré where I raised my left leg, turned it out, and bent the knee while pulling the toe in. I then repeated it with my right leg and confirmed my balance and flexibility of much of the suit.

After a couple more stretches that avoided any pinches or pokes of the armor pressing too much onto my flight suit, I was thankful for Gibb's, Flavia's, and Laurentia's skill.

Standing on my right leg, I rocked forward on my toes. Then, extending my left leg backwards and up, I held it at horizontal and leaned forward with my right arm extended and my left back held over my leg. My tail straightened and split from my left leg to give another point to adjust my balance as my wings spread out, adding a white feathered overlay to the display of polished and engraved steel and golden icons.

Holding that position, I basked in the approval of the maids, Visha, and my mothers. The Ritualista seemed bemused by the whole process, but they were familiar with pilots showing off.

My fiancee, however...

"Sloppy, sloppy!" VioletBlood chided as she strode up to me and glared down at my delicately balanced form. "You call that an Arabesque! Did you learn nothing from the Legionary Ballet Troupe! What would Senior Prefect DeltaVoid think? Your leg is too low and your back isn't curled properly, and you need to lift your chin."

I simply stared at the woman as she, still in a slit skirt, went down, unburdened by the armor, and demonstrated the proper position. "None of that la hauteur laziness! I want that leg above your head and you leaning all the way forward! You remember how to do an arabesque penchée?" she asked, the venom draining from her voice as she teased me in from her own excruciatingly balanced ballet position, her face inches from mine as her tail arched over her back and wings to flick against the nose of my suit.

That wasn't part of the official pose!

Still holding position, I turned to Visha. Her eyes were still warm, but her lip was curled with poorly hidden amusement. "Well?" she challenged.

Not pouting, I sighed and folded in my wings and tail before lowering my leg and smoothly rising back up to a standing position. Really, I should be getting points for being able to hold an arabesque for that long, hauteur or no.

"Very well," I said through the suit speakers.

Taking a fortifying breath, I pictured in my mind's eye the precise steps I had in mind. I was out of practice, but LoveBlood had thrown down the gauntlet, and I would be a poor Squadron commander if I let my subordinates so easily try to outplay me in front of my own Mothers, fiancee or not. Besides, two could play at this game, and it wasn't like I was going to let myself fail at ballet in front of the woman who got me into it.

So with a carefully balanced foot, I stood myself up on one leg once more, bending myself carefully at the waist while slowly raising my other leg high over my head. The weight of the armor, mixed with the odd bouncing of my zephyr racing around trying to "help" threw off my usual instincts for this, but I wasn't some soft-hoofed greenhorn who didn't know how to adapt.

With deliberate slowness, I leaned close over LoveBlood, matching her move for move by tapping the tip of her nose with my own tail. "Happy?" I purred my challenge.

She looked up at me with wide green eyes and an all too delighted smile. "Maybe."

I snorted and shook my head. "You're incorrigible."

Keeping her smug smile, Baroness VioletBlood bowed her horns and stepped back to rejoin the others.

My tail swished as I looked around the portico.

Mother Clementia, my Vs, the Ritualista, including Gibbs, and even my older sister all bowed. DarkStar's blood! They didn't have to make this into some grand production.

And then my Duchess stepped up and took my hand in hers. The bone-white impassive face of some long-dead saint looked down at me. Turning my own head up, I knew I was mirroring the gesture. Our tails swished in synchronicity as our wings spread, and we stepped out from under the cover of the portico.

Mother's Zephyr swirled, and her heels lifted off the ground. Channeling the suit's power, her spirits utterly smooth and balanced, she simply levitated to hover a few inches from the ground.

Her mask looked down at me, and I felt the approval as her metal hand squeezed mine.

Feet on the grass, I also brought my suit to idle, pushed the throttle up, and tentatively took the air. Not just the simple flapping of my wings, but true flight: the merging of flesh, spirit, and steel.

The Duchess let go of my hand as air swirled around her. Then, in a blink, she dashed off, shooting up into the sky. In another example of her experience and skill, the gusting slipstream of air behind her was angled away from the portico and the watching audience, to instead blast down the winter grass.

Looking up, my suit's composite display was already calling out my mother's suit, tracking it via my Gorgon Rig. It was one issue to check the suit's systems and know their power, it was another to be hovering, wings out, on a pillar of air.

Giving an eager grin, I pulled my wings and surged my Zephyr. I might have been a bit overeager as I launched to the air. I took comfort in that no matter how fast I pushed myself an unassisted vertical takeoff would still have less acceleration than a Catapult-assisted launch; the latter of which my suit was fully rated for. Not that that was a conscious thought in the moment of wanting to show off, to catch-up to Mother.

I realized, belatedly, that I should have had more concern when the world turned grey. I realized that I hadn't accounted for the updated kit on my new Polyxo, the improved power systems and streamlined enchantments that let me safely push the limits beyond what I could have dared before when I felt the bone crushing force slam into me. I realized that I should have had more concern for the backblast of my launch zone when I heard a distant crack rebound through air around me.

Of course, these were all distant concerns to me now. Feathers flaring silver, thrusters roaring like a pack of beasts finally slipped off their chains, my Zephyr pushed harder and harder in unabashed joy. With every breath the altimeter and airspeed gauges spiraled up higher and higher, soaring to match the peaks my spirits were reaching. In that moment, I was free from the obligations of war and rank.

In bare heartbeats, I had caught up to Mother and slipped into position at her wing.

Now, we could fly.

End Chapter 36


Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter And Special thanks to Metal Dragon for working though challenges from illness to internet outage to vertigo and doing a lot to add emotional connections and refinement to the chapter especially Visha and Tauria's interactions. Once more thanks to ScarletFox came up with the chapter title

Chapter 37 has been written and is being edited, and ch38 has been started. There's also some more art and some Household Fleet developments.

 

[Rymu]

Well, this has been eventful for Tanya. Kinda feel antsy about the upcoming reincarnation reveal as I'm not really a fan of that sort of subplot but I suppose it's different here as Visha has reincarnated once with Tanya and several others are maybe hinting at knowing her past. Either way, I feel like VB is sorta being a brat with that last scene and really would like to see Tanya assert herself over her Vs.

Also are Tanya's moms flirting? Cus it feels like they are.

 

[Thomas Bennett]

Thanks for the chapter.

 

[RogueInquisitor]

If Tauria is going to tell her Vs about her past lives, I feel she should also tell her mothers.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Well, this has been eventful for Tanya. Kinda feel antsy about the upcoming reincarnation reveal as I'm not really a fan of that sort of subplot but I suppose it's different here as Visha has reincarnated once with Tanya and several others are maybe hinting at knowing her past. Either way, I feel like VB is sorta being a brat with that last scene and really would like to see Tanya assert herself over her Vs.

Also are Tanya's moms flirting? Cus it feels like they are.

Click to shrink...

Yeah Visha is right there so it's not totally something that Tauria can put in her past. And it is something that other beings are aware of (though the Railroad lady may just know because it was railway related) And well, Tuaira did assert herself in that end scene by booping VB's nose.

There was a bit of flirting. but more because they've gotten comfortable with each other.

Thanks for the chapter.

Click to shrink...

My pleasure! Thanks for reading!

If Tauria is going to tell her Vs about her past lives, I feel she should also tell her mothers.

Click to shrink...

Oh totally. Especially as they have their own suspicions too.

 

[Rymu]

Yeah Visha is right there so it's not totally something that Tauria can put in her past. And it is something that other beings are aware of (though the Railroad lady may just know because it was railway related) And well, Tuaira did assert herself in that end scene by booping VB's nose.

There was a bit of flirting. but more because they've gotten comfortable with each other.

Click to shrink...

Personally I would generally disagree and say Tanya absolutely can put it in her past and that nobody she meets is owed anything about her past lives, but with it not being entirely out of context for schenagains to be possible in this life and her loved ones poking at the concept she's at least got to consider it. Also she can always assert harder.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Personally I would generally disagree and say Tanya absolutely can put it in her past and that nobody she meets is owed anything about her past lives, but with it not being entirely out of context for schenagains to be possible in this life and her loved ones poking at the concept she's at least got to consider it. Also she can always assert harder.

Click to shrink...

I mean.... the previous chapter explicitly showed that at least one "person" knows something of her first life, Visha was there for her second, as was Mary. And there are a bunch more who suspect, which means there's ways for people close to her to be told about Tauria's past other than Tauria.

And while it's not like she "owes" her Vs or her Mothers, but part of being close to them may entail opening up about parts of her past. It's not like their relationship is a competition among those three.

 

[Rymu]

I mean.... the previous chapter explicitly showed that at least one "person" knows something of her first life, Visha was there for her second, as was Mary. And there are a bunch more who suspect, which means there's ways for people close to her to be told about Tauria's past other than Tauria.

And while it's not like she "owes" her Vs or her Mothers, but part of being close to them may entail opening up about parts of her past. It's not like their relationship is a competition among those three.

Click to shrink...

I'll be honest I'm forgetting where Mary appears in this fic.

Also it's more that I find it kinda cringey for reincarnation reveals to happen in Tanya stories. This setup having a setting that enables people to reasonably guess at something being up with Tauria, to say nothing of Visha having lived a life with Tanya previously, helps but honestly I don't see what it adds to the story or Tanya's character development.