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

ScarletFox · Jan 29, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
If only I could keep my own tail from nervously curling.

Given how much she loves to lie about herself. I wonder if it was 'nervously' or a far more content thing ^_^. After all, with such a close connection you'd think Violet would make more noise if Tauria was overly "nervous".

Sunshine Temple · Jan 29, 2024

Rymu said:
Poor Tanya. Fae bullshit is never fun. At least she had a presumably great night with her Vs with her loot before all this shit. Also

They did have a very good meal with the spoils of war. And yeah the Fae stuff will be a... thing to deal with

this particular flavor of suffering is some of the most entertaining I've seen Tanya deal with and I want to see more. Especially if it involves cultures who wouldn't take such a blunt introduction nearly as well as her current one does.

Heh, it is a fun thing to see her maneuvering a "high society" where such things are expected.

ScarletFox said:
Given how much she loves to lie about herself. I wonder if it was 'nervously' or a far more content thing ^_^. After all, with such a close connection you'd think Violet would make more noise if Tauria was overly "nervous".

Oh my. Well that depends on how empathic VB is and if she takes Tauria's nervousness as a thing to worry about.

Rymu · Jan 29, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
Heh, it is a fun thing to see her maneuvering a "high society" where such things are expected.

Tanya can manage social situations where she's aligning with expectations, even if her prior social training makes it weird.

Running into a culture where that line would be troublesome is much more interesting.

Sunshine Temple · Jan 30, 2024

Rymu said:
Tanya can manage social situations where she's aligning with expectations, even if her prior social training makes it weird.

Running into a culture where that line would be troublesome is much more interesting.

Yeah, she's adapted to the culture of her 3rd life, but she'd still react poorly in a situation she doesn't have a full understanding of the rules.

shmone else's problem · Jan 30, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
It was to one of these anonymous rooms that Fabia led me to. Invidia waited outside with her arms crossed and her wings folded to her back.

It was to one of these anonymous rooms that Fabia led me too. Invidia was waiting outside, arms crossed and wings folded to her back, ruining in the process the pretense that this room contained nothing of interest

Lines got repeated.

Sunshine Temple said:
"You're serious? El-"

Not sure what name this was supposed to be from context, if anyone has any ideas

Sunshine Temple said:
Invidia gave that smarmy grin again, perhaps my least favorite of all of her expressions. "But of course," she said as she secured the mirror's case in a locking cabinet but also withdrew a ribbon-wrapped folder and handed it to the Lady Legate.

I'm honestly getting really sick of the CSR people and this cunt in particular.

Sunshine Temple said:
Or maybe SunsetFrost is simply like that. I thought. She wouldn't be the first officer I ran into with such an odd kind of charisma. Always best to steer clear of their chaos, I say.

Yeah, imagine what that would be like. A charismatic officer who causes chaos in her wake.

Sunshine Temple · Jan 31, 2024

shmone else's problem said:
Lines got repeated.

Should be fixed by now

Not sure what name this was supposed to be from context, if anyone has any ideas

It's not a name but a kind of fae. Or a fae adjacent being.

I'm honestly getting really sick of the CSR people and this cunt in particular.

They have run this whole operation in a way that has pissed off a lot of people.

Yeah, imagine what that would be like. A charismatic officer who causes chaos in her wake.

Tauria is full of denial and not one for introspection.

Ethorin · Jan 31, 2024

shmone else's problem said:
Not sure what name this was supposed to be from context, if anyone has any ideas

Elf. Duh.

Rymu · Jan 31, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
Yeah, she's adapted to the culture of her 3rd life, but she'd still react poorly in a situation she doesn't have a full understanding of the rules.

I was more thinking of places where she knows the rules but is running into cultural incompatibilities. Like if she has to do the discussed full introduction of herself, her betrothed, and her mistress to a group that doesn't take kindly to two women being a couple and/or taking a mistress.

shmone else's problem · Jan 31, 2024

Ethorin said:
Elf. Duh.

Duh is right, honestly. I feel bad about not realizing that one.

Sunshine Temple · Jan 31, 2024

Ethorin said:
Elf. Duh.

shmone else's problem said:
Duh is right, honestly. I feel bad about not realizing that one.

Heh, no worries. It was having some fun with the hints and references,

Rymu said:
I was more thinking of places where she knows the rules but is running into cultural incompatibilities. Like if she has to do the discussed full introduction of herself, her betrothed, and her mistress to a group that doesn't take kindly to two women being a couple and/or taking a mistress.

Ahhh. I see. That would be a challenge for Tauria to go to a culture where she'd no longer be able to "fit in" with.

Sunshine Temple · Mar 11, 2024

The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

Set in the Diyu Demons verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic.
By Sunshine Temple

Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:

Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.

Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 31: REDACTED

The Spatha shook with the gusting winds as we shot down to the surface of Forlorn Prospect. To our west, the horizon lit up with sunset as the world's misleadingly too-bright star slipped out of view. The Ventus Pilot at the stick must have been ordered to treat this as a combat drop given the aplomb and alacrity the little VTOL was being maneuvered with.

"Well, this is a new experience," Fabia dryly noted as she looked past Invidia's shoulder to a small window mounted in one of the side doors. We were sitting across from Invidia and the Lady Legate on the Spatha's small jump seats.

"I suppose this type of deployment is a novelty for a RP Pilot," Invidia remarked, the frostiness in her tone clearly coming over our headsets.

"That and that we're doing it in full mess-dress," Fabia said with slight exaggeration while adjusting the restraints over her Legion Blacks. The white leather holster to her loaned sidearm did match her belt, but to anyone familiar with Legion sartorial themes, the clear bit of Fleet kit would stand out.

"Ah, I suppose that is a novelty," Invidia allowed. Her gaze drifted to the dark green crate that had been secured to a low-slung cart chained to the deck in the aft of the Spatha's main compartment. A fair bit wider than a Ritual Plate casket, the crate none-the-less had a coffin-like aspect.

My attention went from the ominous container with its securing bands and bindings to my... companions. Invidia was similarly dressed to myself and Fabia. With her sharp features, ebony feathers, and black uniform devoid of any specialization or rank beyond that of a centurion, Invidia Fidelis Nihilus was less than reassuring. However, she was not lacking in honors. She bore a small number of highly select Phalera in polished gold and silver.

Phalera, little sculpted disks with intricate devices, usually served as an officer's Curriculum Vitae; for those fluent in their sigils, a line of Phalera revealed the lines of an officer's entire career, indicating the theaters and campaigns they had served in. My own abbreviated line indicated my brief time in House Vualia and my extended tour in the Crocelli jungles, though the less said about my Preserver Award, the better. Fabia's own rack, which was just as lengthy as Invidia's, displayed her own status as an Imperial Heroine and noted a rich history serving in myriad colonial brush wars, including the Laotia Crisis, the Storming of Sevillia, and the Siege of Bononia, not to mention a tour supporting the Empty Quarter Patrol.

Meanwhile, despite bearing commendations and medals, none of Invidia's commemorated any particular campaign, battle, or even theater. Instead, all her honors were for the quality of her service without going into any specifics. Noticing my interest, Invidia gave me that chill smile as if to ask, what I had expected from the CSR?

I simply shrugged my mute reply. At least she was wearing a uniform instead of aping a civilian this time.

She had clearly left such pretensions to our Lady Legate. Dressed in an ash-grey suit and matching bodice with a dark tan overcoat, the only symbol of military authority Lady JadeJavelin bore was the polished brass and jade Legate's scepter. Which, I had to admit, more than sufficed.

"We'll be down soon enough," the Lady Legate stated. "See, we're over the settlement now."

The "settlement" was more of a company mining town, and looked thoroughly dead. Gazing out the window as the little VTOL banked about, I could see a group of buildings at the head of a valley. No lights were on, and nothing moved below us. It was unnatural, especially considering all the industrial infrastructure. The abandoned town sat in the shadows of a silent refinery from which spread rails to sealed mineheads. We flew over lines of snow-covered hills, showing the vast number of tailings from the closed mines.

For it all to be quiet and still seemed… ominous.

"Alecton Duraluminum really had an amber mine here?" Fabia asked. She tried to sound respectful, but the skepticism was still there. Aether Amber was a major energetic component in ship power systems and was thus critical for any Great House's war and merchant fleets.

"They have several on Forlorn Prospect, but with rich veins being discovered on Oncaster the lower performing hardship posts here on Forlorn Prospect were mothballed like Byrnsville down there," JadeJavelin explained.

I nodded along. Oncaster was a far more pleasant world. It was also, like Forlorn Prospect, one jump from the Alecton hub world of New Batavaia, but unlike the frosty mostly-wasteland we were on right now, Oncaster was also far closer to Diyu.

"Really?" Fabia shook her head. "And here I thought Oncaster was just a stopover world in part of the chain linking New Batavia to Diyu."

JadeJavelin gave her a dry smile. "Oh, it was. Initial surveys found a pleasant enough world, but one with few connections and fewer still obvious resources, so it was passed over for development." She shrugged. "Just another minor piece in the Great Game of carving up the Dimensional Spine."

Invidia gave an equally cold grin. "At least until later on, prospectors got curious. Thankfully, this time the arcana they found buried and forgotten was a benefit to their House."

I gave a noncommittal shrug. Despite discovering over a hundred worlds, our kind tended to fight over the handful that were strategically vital by the resources they bore, the infrastructure upon them, the travel options they facilitated, or, in the case of Diyu, all three. There were dozens and dozens of worlds that had minimal settlement: nothing more than a few counties and maybe a city or two of note.

"Eyes to the horizon, we risk missing the adder at our feet," JadeJavelin chuckled

The Satha's propulsion pods raised in pitch as they rotated as we came in for a final descent. Landing gears came down with a thunk. The short buildings of the abandoned town rose up to meet us as the flaps and engines flared, and we landed in an empty square. Snow blew up around us, and, for a moment, the windows went into whiteout.

The Lady Legate stood up, and with her eyes softly glowing, hit the button to lower the aft ramp. It took me a moment to realize that the VTOL had not landed and instead was hovering just off the ground. As the Legate talked with the Spatha's pilot, Invidia and Fabia started removing the chains that had secured the SilverHold to the deck.

By the time I got my sword adjusted and the side door open, the thin snow cover had all been blown away and I was able to make the modest jump onto the cracked paved street.

I had a brief moment of wonder at their paranoia before the sound of Fabia exiting the other side door grabbed my attention. Without any need for words, Fabia and I took up positions bracketing the open ramp, backs towards the VTOL and facing out towards the empty street. While the likelihood of a sudden assault, much less a sudden assault that we could do anything about without our Ritual Plates, was minimal, there were appearances to keep. While we kept our self-appointed and mostly honorary vigil, the two CSR officers carefully rolled their precious cargo off the ramp onto the ground.

Invidia followed the crate down and kept watch while JadeJavelin secured the side doors. For a moment, a trio of feathered women stood a mute watch on Forlorn Prospect. The wind blew up, as my wings fluttered and a chill bit into my limbs.

Then, with the measured stride of a conquering general, Lady Legate JadeJavelin stepped down the ramp and set foot on the surface. The ramp closed behind her, and without so much as a by-your-leave, the Spatha shot back up into the air, almost as if fleeing the empty husk that was Byrnsville.

I had a moment to reflect on my spike of anxiety. Once again, I was stranded sans RP on the surface of a strange world. Unlike Harp's World, however, I was not alone. Fabia was by my side, with JadeJavelin and Invidia by the cart holding the SilverHold.

JadeJavelin gave a toothy smile as she waved a set of carefully crooked fingers with her free hand, and all the dark lamps in the plaza flicked into life with cold, antiseptic light. The Lady Legate had not used kinetomancy to turn on the valves or pyromancy to ignite the burners; I doubted there was any gas in the lines.

No, this was an illusion, a comprehensive and far-ranging one. And she was using it to light our way. The casual display of power was as overdramatic as it was pointed with intent.

"Come, ladies, we have an appointment to keep," the Lady Legate encouraged as Invidia took the handle to the crate and pulled it along. "Our guests are not the type to graciously welcome the fashionably late."

Exhaling, Fabia and I followed. Despite the way my breath steamed in clouds behind me, the sudden, almost stifling warmth that had wrapped itself over my shoulders since my heels touched the planet's surface clung to me, resolute despite the cold.

I resolved to do my best to ignore it.

+++++

The Lady Legate halted our little procession in what had been the town's market square. With a bit of denial and imagination, I could pretend that the merchants had shut down for the night, had gone home, and were ready to open their stalls and hawk their wares again come morning.

A comforting delusion, but a delusion nonetheless. While there were the remains of a few folded-up stalls and booths, most everything else had been cleared out. Besides, this was a mining town, shifts at all hours of the day would not be uncommon, and even if not, our species was quite comfortable in darkness. More than a few of us lived functionally nocturnal lives.

A bit of melancholy swept through me as I scanned our surroundings. The Lady Legate's illuminating magic could only do so much to thaw my melancholy. I could see a deconsecrated church of DarkStar standing next to a synagogue. That was interesting in and of itself, as neither religion was particularly common in House Alecto. But what struck me more was the idea of the last service each place offered and what had happened to their congregations.

My eyes went to the schoolhouse with its carefully installed storm-shutters. Whole families had been pulled out when the shifting politics of the Great Game suddenly left these mines redundant to Alecto's interest. That so much care had been taken in protecting the windows of the now-vacated buildings indicated that the residents of Byrnsville had hoped they might one day return.

The optimist in me, such as it was, theorized the residents had moved to one of the mines closer to the equator and would likely have been happy enough to find new homes in a more temperate, almost livable clime. Perhaps they had moved to Oncaseter.

The cynic in me pointed out that those places already had plenty of miners.

"There's always New Van Zandt," Fabia suddenly murmured next to me.

"What?" I asked, my tail stiffening at the abrupt comment that drew me out of musing about the town and the Legate's magic. Despite the frosty weather there was no chill in the air, just an… absence of temperature. I had growing concerns that the Lady Legate's magic was far more than it seemed.

"It's only one jump from here," Fabia continued in a soft and casual tone. "They have their own mines, nothing as glamorous as Amber, but they've got coal, useful metals, and even a Black Salt supply. There are worse independent colonies out here."

I frowned at her, suspicion raised. "Where are you going with this?"

"Oh don't worry, your empathy for the miners was obvious. You really can be a merciful little thing." Fabia's mirth waned. "Though you might want to get your game face on."

My heart faded back into a steady rhythm at her words of reason. Nodding, I put all my senses on high alert. Keen eyes probing the dark shadows, sharp ears picked to catch what they couldn't; I even sniffed the air searching for a whiff of something out of place. The Lady Legate was doing a masterful job of concealing what had to be impatience, even her tail swished to and fro with casual ease. For her part, Invidia was almost as good, but her tail flicked pensively as her stern expression became more focused.

The elder demon gave her aide a minute nod. Invidia tapped her headset. "Flight Ops, this is Ground Team."

"Flight Ops to Ground Team. Flight Ops to Ground Team," a voice rang in my ear. "We have you on telemetry. What's the situation?" asked a far more mature and... cynical voice than the typical chipper but professional Fleet dispatcher.

That one of JadeJavelin's associates had taken over our comms was disquieting, but at least we still had comms. Given all the heavy restrictions the Lady Legate had put on this mission, I had been concerned we would be under a total blackout as well. Our air cover held back to keep some pilot from seeing something they shouldn't. Thankfully, there seemed to be limits to CSR's paranoia. Or maybe their worries of an eleventh-hour betrayal had at least outweighed their fetish for compartmentalization.

"Flight Ops, we are in position. Waiting for pickup of the package. The guests are running a bit late," Invidia stated. Her voice was calm, and she had not used any of the duress codes I had been briefed on. However, for a mission like this, I was sure Fabia and I had not been given the whole story.

Tilting her head, JadeJavelin gave a not-to-ladylike snort.

"Understood Ground Team. DarkStar be with you," the comm spook said before the channel closed.

Then the near-oppressive silence returned. This time, however, we thankfully weren't left long to stew in the ominous quiet. Soon, Fabia's nostrils flared and she gave a slight frown, alerting me that her sensitive nose had noticed something at last.

Almost at the same time as I saw that frown, a sickly sweet scent, reminiscent of cranberries, drifted across my nose. It was faint, but quickly intensifying. I felt the weight of the sword of the HFV DarkStar pulling on my hip. The illusionary lights grew brighter as the Lady Legate stepped around the cart with its tied-down crate.

Then, from the old guildhall for the Sisterhood of Miners, Steamfitters, Refinery Artificers, and Alchemists, the sound of footsteps echoed, strange in the starry cold that should have flooded the square.

The sweet smell grew more intense as a tall figure bled into existence and sauntered towards us. I blinked. The person looked like a male human, albeit one that moved with the grace of a dancer. A long leather coat swayed at his thighs, and a bright red knit woolen cap crowned fine black hair.

The sickly smell, a scent that I at last placed as lingonberry, came from the iced treat he carried, deep red syrup poured over shaved ice in a paper cone whose sheer bland mundanity became a punchline by dint of its holder. The man's vaguely vulpine face gave us a hungry smile as he took a toothy bite out of the sweet confection.

"Ah, returning the queen's stolen property are we?" he asked in arrogant lilted Silvan Latin. But for his slight, lilting Atalian accent, his voice could have passed for a native's. His stride shifted to a predatory prowl as he smiled teeth too sharp for a mere human. The artificial lights cut harsh, jagged shadows in his wake.

"One might suppose that would be the minimum of grace that can be expected from parties who had wronged us and come prostrate begging for succor and forgiveness," the man continued.

Blinking, Fabia managed to keep her composure while Invidia's tail flicked with a weary exhaustion. The Lady Legate squared her shoulders and managed to look down her nose at the Sidhe man. For my part, I was reminded of the petty squabbles of the spoiled noble cadets in the capital who thought that surviving a few duels to first blood made them Mistresses of War.

I cut that line of thinking off with a sharp breath. Right. Playing the aggressive foppish dandy is an excellent way to convince someone to underestimate you, or to provoke foolish or aggressive behavior.

With a slow deliberate motion, Lady Legate JadeJavelin took her ornate scepter, the symbol of her office, and slipped it into a jacket pocket. She sent us the briefest flickers of approval at our composure. "Your suppositions, veiled-threats, and postures are not relevant to tonight's business, Gentle Lord of the Winter Court."

The sweet dessert was tossed to the ground. The casual littering offended me more than the blatant symbolism of the red fluid spreading out onto the cobbles. "You would spoil my fun, Angela? Bring a motley flock like this to honor my Queen? Is that the has-been I see?" He gave a smirking bow laden with mockery to Invidia. His shadow mirrored the gesture a beat later.

"And the..." his words trailed off as he met Fabia's gaze. The wind rose as a gust came down the hill bringing with it creaks from the refinery's pipes and conduits. Deftly stepping away from the mess he made, the fae's gaze went to me. "Ah... the Legion's finest. Heroines, rising stars... darkly but still rising."

Was that a hitch in his voice I detected? Was that a ploy on his part? There were too many unknowns. What I did know was that the man was deliberately avoiding even looking in the direction of the crate.

"Mayhap, I've been a poor host; I should apologize," he smiled winningly, and however much it may have been filled with bright teeth and honeyed words, it remained empty of any true apology. I wasn't entirely sure how much I could trust the CSR's word that the fae couldn't lie, but my instincts screamed that his every action dripped with deception.

The Lady Legate held out a hand as if to capture a falling snowflake. Her illusionary gas lamps turned a shade brighter making the shadows starker and giving an artificial, almost harsh contrast. "We are in Alecton territory. My command has host-right."

The man's smile flickered. It was a tiny thing, a ghost of a moment. If I had not been looking, I would have missed it; clearly, the Lady Legate had not. Her usage of the declarative could be nothing but deliberate.

"Challenges are to be relished, and where are my manners? We haven't done introductions. How rude," this time, his smile seemed genuine and lovely. But I had spent this life around pretty, alluring predators. "Would it be too much trouble to have your names?" the man in the red cap crooned.

The Lady Legate laughed. It was not a bell-like pearl of mirth, or even a throaty purring chuckle. She cackled derisively and motioned to Invidia. The back-winged woman stepped to the crate and drew a gold-etched dagger that shone in the harsh lights.

Now the fae's attention was to the crate that contained the SilverHold.

An ugly expression flicked over him as his body tensed; I suspected a lupine lunge, but he regained his composure when Invidia merely sliced through one of the bands securing the crate to its low-slung cart.

"Posturing and veiled-threats have no place here, Redcap," the Lady Legate stated, her tone iron. "We shall not question your Queen's word. Perhaps you should not question our Imperatrix's resolve."

The fae, the Redcap's, hard eyes went to me. Now those cold blue eyes gave more than a cursory glance and his head rapidly went up to the sky, as if he could see the waiting flotilla. "If one comes bearing the sigils, ships, and saints of the DarkStar-"

The Lady Legate cut him off. "Yes, then the story of BlackSky's wroth is not far behind. Do we have an understanding?"

I swallowed at the escalation. I knew that the HFV DarkStar had a considerable religious complement, but I should have expected that Praefectus Commodore Countess SunsetFrost had brought a living saint with her. The Order of Our Hallowed Lady only had a handful of non-posthumous saints, but if anyone could get their attention, it would be the captain of the DarkStar.

"I suppose that is the question," a silken voice said as a woman appeared on the steps of the abandoned church. She was tall, with luminous gold-green eyes and tumbling crimson tresses. Her pale skin aside, she reminded me of an older, more human-looking VioletBlood. Though her haughty expression was a bit more crazed than my Baroness's. Her tall shadow stretched behind her, moving just out of beat with her steps.

The Lady Legate did not seem surprised at her appearance, and the elder demoness even bowed her horns to the approaching Sidhe Lady.

The lamps closest to the redhead shifted from harsh antiseptic light to a cold blue as she approached, her long emerald green dress swishing on the sparsely snow-covered street. Her gaze set upon the other fae. And then she looked down to the spilled crimson iced confection. "Rude."

Her single word cracked across the plaza. Her hand snaked out, and, like a conjuror, a whip appeared between her fingers. The air sang with thunder, and the Redcap fell to his knees, a thin blue cord taunt around his neck.

Instinct took over. I took a step forward to adjust my stance. My hand darted to the hilt of my loaned sword. Wings fluffed with the roiling currents of my Zephyr, eager to play. My heart pounded with adrenaline at the sudden turn.

The Lady of Winter languidly rotated her wrist, forcing the man to gasp as he was pulled down to his hands and knees, practically baring the back of his neck. "La, good help is hard to find, is it not Lady Legate?" the woman studied the nearly prostrate man with a hungry gleam. I could smell the tall woman's blood-madness.

"I can't say I've had that complaint," JadeJavelin noted with the barest echo of dry wit.

"Ah, they do seem so very eager," the woman's feline-slitted eyes set upon me with naked interest. "My, she already has a sword ready. Would the Redcap's head make a proper gift? An... Apology, as you call it?"

The faerie rolled the word around on her tongue, sampling it as if it were some new and unfamiliar flavor, a concept intriguingly foreign to her sensibilities. But, given the vast bloody potential inherent to such a gesture, not one she found entirely distasteful.

I tried to control my heart. This woman was not something new. I had spent this whole life around violence-crazed women. I had worked under elder demonesses and dealt with their casually oppressive power. DarkStar's blood, I was engaged to Baroness VioletBlood, a woman for whom violence was only ever an errant twitch away!

But then I noticed I had started to draw, and several inches of engraved silvery blade had been exposed.

The Lady Legate stepped closer. "Peace, Leanansidhe; no offense was given. Countess, you may be at ease."

I snapped the sword back into its scabbard and shifted to standing with legs separated and arms clasped behind my back. This Leanansidhe may couch her offer in the Diyu Convention of Apology, but it was still a gift. And a gift from a Fae was a dangerous obligation.

"A shame," the Leanansidhe rotated her wrist the other way, and the whip slackened. "Get up," she ordered the Redcap.

Gasping, he rose in a single sinuous motion and immediately put on a composed, arrogant bearing. He gave Fabia a sarcastically gallant bow that did little to conceal the murderous look in his eyes.

"Do not fret, poppet," the Leanansidhe smiled almost maternally at me, showing her own set of delicate fangs. "Patience, patience, you shall have plenty of opportunities to wet your claws."

Fabia gave Invidia a questioning look, and the dark-winged spy passed that expression to the Lady Legate.

JadeJavelin simply shrugged.

"Come, crimson highwayman," the fae woman ordered her subordinate, who, with some reluctance, fell at her heel. "We are guests, are we not?"

This inquiry was pointedly at the Lady Legate. The duties of guest and host were important on much of Diyu, but apparently, they were unto a law of nature among the Lords and Ladies. Extending guest-right to these two fae would mean they would have an obligation to comport themselves as guests, but also that we would have an obligation to act as proper hosts. Extending that courtesy would be an obligation, but not extending it would be seen as rude.

"You are welcome in Byrnsville as our guests, but alas House Alecto has only delegated such authority to me for a brief window," the Lady Legate smoothly said. "As such I must apologize for the lack of amenities at such a venue."

Leanansidhe gave a small smirk at that.

"One of your ships would be more comfortable," the Redcap sneered.

"Ah, but good Sir, I am afraid those are not my ships. They are the Imperatrix's and through her the Household Fleet, where I am merely a Legate of the Imperial Legions," JadeJavelin shrugged and hung her head, as if this was some grand tragedy out of her hands. Yes, she was not in command of any of the vessels in our flotilla, but said captains would take her suggestions with all due consideration. It was a bare technicality, but among the fae that was what counted more than any practical truth.

Redcap scowled while the Leanansidhe laughed; it was lyrical and discordant. Unlike him, she seemed to have no concern about the spy mistress and her associates. I could imagine several reasons for that. Perhaps it was merely her madness that lurked just below the surface, like a reef for an unwary ship. Maybe she was confident that this deal would go her way in the end or was dedicated towards bluffing that scenario into reality. It could also be as simple as she was fully aware of the power arrayed against her and, in an utterly rational evaluation of her own abilities, saw us as no great threat.

The fact that the last possibility doesn't seem so slim… I thought, resisting the urge to grasp the hilt of my loaned sword once more. I don't like it. Not one bit.

JadeJavelin nodded to Invidia. The dagger came out, and the other bands securing the crate were cut away. The Leanansidhe rubbed her hands, and even the Redcap dripped with anticipation. Thunder rolled in, and the flurries above us started to fall with greater regularity.

Fabia shared a tiny frown with me. Apparently, she too hoped that we could simply hand the crate over without seeing what the SilverHold actually was. We had bled and suffered and lost good people to get to this moment. I would be lying if I denied having any curiosity, but that was tempered by knowing every bit of knowledge I gained drew me deeper and deeper into this world of shadows and lies.

By the time Invidia had her hands on the sides of the lid, the sky had grown overcast.

"Members of the Winter Court of the Fae. Emissaries from the Queen of Air and Darkness. House BlackSky returns the queen's property," Lady Legate JadeJavelin stated as Invidia lifted and slid out the wooden lid. It fell to the cobbles with a whirlwind of new snow. Brown corrugated paper packing material billowed up.

For a moment it looked like the box was full of frozen water. A level surface reflected the dark clouds and blue lights like an icy pond. As more of the packing material was cleared out, the object looked more like a puddle of quicksilver set in an ebony tray.

Gazing down into the crate, the Leanansidhe gave a contented sigh. "It is unspoiled?" she asked with a languid dreaminess. In the soft azure-tinged illusionary lamp-light, her shadow seemed far less threatening.

The Lady Legate nodded. "We have reconstructed much of Elena's research and testing data. Their focus was on meteorological manipulation."

In the end, I could not resist the siren's call. I looked into the crate. Inside, among the silver, was a pale demoness with white feathers and blond hair. It was my reflection. The SilverHold was a mirror. In an ebony frame, the oval mirror was a wide full-length cheval style piece supported by a frame of the same dark wood intricately carved and polished to shine like the night sky.

The Leanansidhe laughed. It was a musical noise that excited my Zephyr and made me want to take to the air and fire my Lances on an enemy armored column. "The weather? Your Imperatrix's sister beheld the Mirror of Reason and she used it to play with the weather?" she shook her head in disbelief. "Will the wonders of your little games never cease…"

JadeJavelin kept in her slight irritation at that name being spoken. I could understand why she would have preferred to use codenames.

"Perhaps Elena used all their cleverness in purloining the mirror," the Redcap stated.

"That they managed it at all speaks of their will, if not their judgment, and that it took... effort to get it back." The Leanansidhe directed her manic joy to Fabia and myself. "Oh, yes."

JadeJavelin gave us an overtly bland look.

"Such heroics should be rewarded, no?" the Leanansidhe purred.

"I was merely doing my duty to the Imperatrix and the Legions," Fabia stated.

"All honors and rewards would be bestowed at her behest," I added.

The redhead frowned. "La, so formal, poppet. Perhaps it would not kill you to loosen up? To enjoy your duties and indulge in your artistic side?" She then directed her attention to Fabia. "And you radiate stiffness. I suppose you more than earned the name Firmitas."

Fabia stiffly nodded.

The redhead gave her a vicious smile before nodding to JadeJavelin. "At least this time, you brought pretty little killers."

"We are Legion," the Lady Legate said.

The Leanansidhe ran a finger down the mirror's frame. Sparkling blue tracery lit up on the ebony wood as she watched the fluffy flakes fall onto the mirror's silvery surface and melt into glistening beads. "You can make that claim. Indeed, most of Diyu's claims seem founded."

Redcap scoffed, but it was held back by Invidia's level, flat glare.

"The Silverhold is in your custody, Lady Leanansidhe," the Lady Legate reminded.

Leanansidhe removed her hand from the mirror. "Ah, I suppose I must deal with business. Highwayman, you may call upon the porters."

I frowned at the Sihde woman's almost... dismissive attitude towards the Mirror of Reason. Did she even care about the mirror for what it did? Or just that it was her Queen's, and having it stolen was an affront. Was this even really about mirrors?

She seemed more interested in... us. The little anxiety within me worried that this was some sort of... trial. No, was it more of an evaluation by the Fae? Could Elena steal such an artifact? Could we recover and return it? Desolate Stars, Alecto could have been measured. They quietly, deniably, assisted us every step of the way.

If true, that meant we had been played. My tail stilled, and I exhaled. Invidia was giving me a gimlet stare as her angular features seemed to will me into quiet compliance. She knew; of course the spy knew. I just gave her a stiff nod.

No wonder CSR was keeping the fae's role in this locked down. The Lords and Ladies were eager. If they had their way, they would have many such little tasks for us. As Uriel seemed to have let me alone, I had thought I was free of other such puppetmasters.

Before this meeting, I had allowed myself the luxury of hope. I deluded myself with the ephemeral dream that the SilverHold, that this DarkStar-cursed mirror was worth the deaths, was worth the trauma, was worth risking a new war. I had told my pilots, I had told my Vs. I gave them hope and told them their pain had meaning.

That hope died.

I stared into the mirror and saw my reflection pale and angry. Hundreds had died on Harp's World. And all for a test, a game. Because we feared a threat that even CSR dared not openly name. My hand clenched on the hilt of the sword of the HFV DarkStar. Cold wind and snow started to rise up around me as my Zephyr thought it might be time to play.

"Oh, such righteous, bloody fury, poppet," the Leanansidhe purred with obvious pleasure as she faced me. "I haven't felt that since my godson-", the wind drowned the rest out.

"Centurion DiamondDust!" The Lady Legate shouted, but it was too late.

I saw myself.

I saw my sword, firm and perfectly weighted and pressing against the palm of my left hand. Silver light flared along the intricately engraved blade as I spread my wings, blowing the snow and wind around in a great crescendo.

I saw that Invidia had her dagger out. Fabia's own borrowed gun was out of her holster like a magic trick. Pain and indecision crossed her face. My spirits raised, and I knew. I knew that despite the elder demon's power, despite the skills of the fae, I would strike.

I saw the blade sweep out. The Leanansidhe was an ancient being of power and skill in her own right. A lean predator of madness and inspiration. She stood across me, eyes glittering in anticipation. Redcap moved up by his liege lady, shining teeth and suddenly misshapen hands ready to rend alongside her.

But I was not alone. And the Hallowed Lady would guide my hand. It would not be the first time I had sacrificed everything to slay a monster. My luminescent blade would quickly cleave through the Redcap before striking true through the heart of one who would play games with me and mine.

I saw.

I saw all this in the quicksilver stilled surface of the Mirror of Reason. My hand let go of the hilt, and the sword seated back into its scabbard with a click. The cascade of snow and winds around us died with it, and my Zephyr floated languidly back to me. It was not worth it.

I turned from the mirror to face the Leanansidhe. Invidia's dagger was sheathed. Fabia's holster was still secured. Neither seemed to have seen the mirror's vision. The Lady Legate, however, gave me a tiny nod.

Redcap had taken a step back and was rubbing his neck anew. I was sure he was still hurting from the whip attack earlier in the night.

The Leanansidhe was watching me with even more intense interest. "Ah, the Watchman always picks such interesting strays."

I looked away. That sounded too much like a title for a certain archangel. Without staring into that cursed reflection, I instead watched the growing gentle rain of snowflakes pattering onto the mirror's surface. Contrary to the fae's assertions, I suspected it was not a lack of creativity that held Elena's hand. I suspected that the Onyx Institute had focused on weather manipulation out of caution, out of wisdom. Given the guests the Lady Legate had on the Tarantula Hawk, I was sure that question would be answered in due time.

"Wary of what you'll see next, poppet?" the Leanansidhe asked.

"Maybe, she saw enough," Redcap sneered, voice full of bravado.

"Lady, Sir, my curiosity is not germane to this conclave," I stated.

"La, such self-denial." The redhead's mad gleam grew as her smile grew. "Still, you have all brought the Mirror and you have been polite hosts."

"We only performed our duty," the Lady Legate stated.

"How can a species of temptresses be so dry?" the Leanansidhe shook her head, and, with a wave of her, hand a snow-squall fell around us. The whiteout was brief and centered around the fae woman.

A motion from the Lady Legate had us stand down, but in a moment, the precipitation cleared to the steady flurries. And now instead of a whip, the Leanansidhe held a quaint woven basket and a bottle of wine. Handing the basket over to Redcap, she pulled out a pair of glasses and opened the bottle.

In the newly harsh lamp-light, the crimson wine in the thin-stemmed glasses was put in stark relief. "As a guest, refreshments would only be polite."

I stilled at that, and even the Lady Legate's wariness was palatable. We had been cautioned. Beyond the risk of incurring debt to the Lords and Ladies was the concern that their foodstuff was biologically incompatible to most other forms of life.

"Your offer is gracious and generous. However, and with no implication on your intentions, our biological differences may be a point of concern," the Lady Legate said with deliberate smoothness.

"The mighty Elder Demoness, the Imperatrix's Hatchetwoman, is afraid of mere wine?" Redcap opened the basket and rummaged around. "Or is it the charcuterie that threatens you so?"

JadeJavelin raised an eyebrow as if the younger-looking UnSeelie Lord's goading was not worthy of a response.

"Oh peace, Highwayman," the Leanansidhe chided. "What if I assured that these libations originated from the human world?"

"If you said such a thing that would ameliorate some of the risks," the Lady Legate pulled out a slim copper flask and seemed to study it. "Come now Lea, how would you react if we insisted you have Diyu foods without any assurances as to the quality of the meats?"

"Oh? Did your Countess save any of the vittles she acquired on Harp's World?" the Leanansidhe eagerly asked and then gave a wistful pout as her green-gold eyes gleamed feverously. "It has been too long since I sampled the sweet pleasures of Diyu."

The Lady Legate glanced at me.

No wonder CSR was so paranoid. The fae knew much about our raid. I wondered if they were covertly observing or if they had... interviewed some of the Elenese survivors. "I must admit with regret to have already shared such... bounty with my betrothed and mistress."

"Ah young love." The redhead smiled. "There is much to commend about your people's culture."

I kept in a sigh. Of the most positive aspects of my latest life, that there were socially acceptable forms of cannibalism was not something I was terribly enamored with. By the frown and related emotions Fabia sent to me, I could tell she shared my mild disquiet.

Redcap snorted. "It was with great patience that the paltry conditions of this venue have been overlooked. With what one could say is due to no fault of the hostess."

Smirking, JadeJavelin handed the flask to Invidia. "The first duty of a host is to ensure the safety of her guests. Are you really challenging that my, good sir?" she asked Redcap with a flash of fang.

He glowered.

The Lady Legate raised a hand. "If you insist, a demonstration would be trivial. Bringing in an abundance of servers, cooks, and guards would hardly be provocation on our part if the Good Gentlemen requested their presence. If you insist on the full hospitality of House BlackSky with the... vittles desired, who am I to deny such a request?"

Lea sipped her wine. "A threat to overwhelm us with catering and exotic foodstuffs is quite the novelty."

Invidia undid the cap to the flask and gave the contents a thoughtful sniff. A slight anise smell drifted out that seemed to shift to a sweeter scent as it dispersed into the snow-filled air. The sharp-faced spy took a dainty sip.

"Was not your godson presented with a virgin sacrifice as a ploy?" Redcap countered.

"La, the poor dear was less than willing to make a show of that particular offering, but he more than made up for it," Lea sighed.

"I suppose it would be proper to celebrate the successful transfer of the mirror with mutual refreshments to symbolize the balance between our peoples," JadeJavelin allowed.

"But Ma'am, that would require concluding our business here," Invidia said, returning the flask to the Lady Legate.

For the third time, Lea laughed; it was a beautiful and terrible thing. "So, you can bargain, Angela." She clapped her hands.

"It is a matter of finding the correct levers." The Lady Legate bowed her horns and gestured towards the mirror. "What levers does this have?"

Something like confused anger flittered across Redcap's face. "You possessed an artifact of great interest to our queen and you deny the power it brings you?"

JadeJavelin shrugged. "I am merely a courier. Lady Leanansidhe has possession now."

"And the terms for this transfer? One could count this as a gift to our Court and thus worthy of a considerable boon," Redcap proposed.

Invidia tilted her head. "Or it could be taken as us rectifying a past offense on the part of Elena."

"Is such humility common among your organization?" Lea inquired.

The Lady Legate held a hand. "It is academic, for any boons or deals regarding this specific transfer shall be decided by authorities higher than us."

The fae woman inclined her head slightly. While I doubted BlackSky herself would take the Vault of the Heavens to Winter for a summit with the Unseelie Queen, knowing that the negotiations were taking place far, far above my pay-grade was both a relief and a new burden.

On one wing, I would not be present, and thus not at risk, during such negotiations. On the other Wing, knowing that our mission had a direct role for the Imperatrix, or perhaps one of her Daughters, was a fair amount of pressure after-the-fact. And what did it say about a spy mistress to pointedly decline a boon from the fae? Possibly that the Lady Legate was far more wise about the cost of favors and cautious about accumulating power, especially power that came with strings attached. Which made her more dangerous in my book.

Lea gave a small sigh. "Shame, but I can not deny my queen and you cannot deny your liege either, Angela."

"Hence, why perhaps a celebration after the conclusion of our market-place business would sooth such feelings," the spy-chief assured.

Both Fae's hungry attention fell upon Fabia, myself, and even Invidia. This time, I managed to keep my hand off the sword, if barely. The snake had stated that as Imperial Heroines, we were beings wreathed in story, beings that the Lords and Ladies would find tantalizing. The old monster was using us as a lure to distract them!

"Oh poppet, please be at peace. Such stress does little for one's health and happiness," Lea assured with a purr. "especially, for one so little as yourself."

"I am not stressed," I said, effortlessly maintaining my professional and mature demeanor.

"Mayhap it's the venue?" Lea offered.

"She's kind of like this all the time," Fabia admitted.

I glared at her. Betrayal from every angle!

"You're not wrong but... that is a bit personal," Invidia admitted.

I sighed. At least I expected the spy to stab me in the back.

"Poppet, do you want worry wrinkles?" the fae teased. "I would say you should live a bit more, like your fellow Imperial Heroine."

Redcap snorted. "The other Heroine seems just as stiff."

"Oh hush." Lea waved him off. "Perhaps it is that our Countess and the Unbending merely have old souls: both so mature, so sober. Ah, but on Harp's World, neither seemed satisfied merely killing in flight."

I managed to keep my tail from stilling. For a moment, despite the Lady Legate's magic, the winter chill went through me. Were the fae reading me? Mentally? Emotionally? Even if Lea were merely very observant that was concerning enough.

"I suppose we will not lack for dinner conversation then," the Lady Legate offered, completing the use of myself as a lure.

"So be it," Lea drained her wineglass and handed it to Redcap. She put one hand on the frame of the Mirror of Rationality and extended her arm down the length of the abandoned marketplace.

The snowfall increased. It was densest in the area where Lea pointed, but a veritable white-out had formed all around us. Large figures started to loom out of the snow and march towards us in two lines.

"DarkStar's Blood," Fabia swore as a quartet of massive figures lumbered towards us.

Each was several feet taller than Lares. Bulkier and shaggier than any Forest Person I had seen with off-white pelts, the beady-eyed beings wore engraved armor seemingly shaped from vast slabs of ice.

Behind the veritable ogres, six sidhe in silvery-purple armor astride dark predatory-looking steeds cantered up with barbed lances held high. I eyed the fae knights. Their plate armor seemed well designed and, despite the great artistry in their craft, seemed more than functional.

The eyeless equines with the spiraling horns and broad fangs were another question. I wondered as to the industrial capacity of the Lords and Ladies. Doubtless, this was the Winter Court's honor guard, so a degree of ceremonial pageantry was expected. And did not my own House have mounted troops on horses and raptors?

A forest of banner-tipped lances lowered in salute as the knights split and formed a guard formation with perfect coordination. Lea's mad smile spread as she directed the brutish quartet. With surprising dexterity, each took a corner of the crate and, as if it weighed nothing, lifted.

Where the steeds gave a comfortingly-mundane equine smell, the brutes had the slight odor of anyone who had spent a long day of heavy labor out in the cold. Even that, however, was preferable to the knights who were utterly without scent, sound, or emotional presence, and made for barely visible phantoms in the snowfall.

Fabia's wings ruffled as she studied the fae knights. Her Zephyr blew up as their interest matched hers. Invidia had affected an aloof stance that almost hid her apprehension. Meanwhile, the Lady Legate had taken out her flask and took a fairly large sip. The lights around her returned to the harsh white color as her tail swished with amusement.

I found a similar confidence growing in my breast. Both by the fact that the Fae soldiery, now bearing that damnable-mirror, had started to return to whence they came and by that Flight Ops had announced Squadron Three was being fed targeting telemetry. With Visha and VioletBlood watching over, there was little for me to fear.

Redcap made a move to follow the knights and the mirror, but with a single finger, Lea held him in place. The wind blew up and the Fae troops, and their burden, marched into a fresh squall and soon vanished leaving the six of us alone in the plaza. Lea then turned to the rest of us and gave a razor-sharp smile. "Now that the business is conducted, shall we eat?"

+++++

The negotiations were involved, pedantic, and exhausting. Fortunately, the Lady Legate managed all of them, and I simply had to stand still and keep my mouth shut. Having spent two lives, short they might be, in the military, this was a skill I was well-practiced in.

JadeJavelin formalized the deal with the Leanansidhe with a pair of thin silver shot glasses filled with amber liquid poured measuringly from her flask. She held both out and let the Sidhe pick one while she downed the other. Fabia managed to not roll her eyes at the drama of the pact. Redcap had no such restraint. During the celebratory toasting, Invidia had called her associates to set up our part of the logistics.

And now I stood on the front steps of the guildhall for the Sisterhood of Miners, Steamfitters, Refinery Artificers, and Alchemists. Fabia and the Redcap had pried off the beam that had secured the large wooden doors and were now busily shuffling some furniture around.

Even at this relatively temperate latitude, the residents of Forlorn Prospect constructed buildings to last. This "mild" winter in desolate Byrnsville would have cut through me if not for the Lady Legate's magic.

I would have rubbed my arms in worry, but Lea had offered some cheese and sausage from her gift basket, and I had to use my hands to take the food. With this deal in place, it would have been rude for me to refuse. So, I had taken a polite amount of what was, admittedly, a very good appetizer.

The redheaded Sidhe gave me a languid smile. "And what mayhap comes next, dear poppet?"

"You're not talking about tonight?" I asked.

"That was implied," she laughed, sipping her wine.

My tail flicked as I frowned. That was the question. The last two months of my life had been preparing for, executing, and then surviving this DarkStar cursed operation. But the mirror had been returned. It was over.

I looked up at the sky. "Serving my Imperatrix," I stated while taking a fresh sausage offered from the Fae lady. It would not do to be rude.

She rolled her eyes at that. "Obviously. Your blood debt has, what, sixteen years of tribute remaining? What is next?"

My head tilted. Partially to concede her point, partially in confusion at her choice of words. I had volunteered. Granted, I had done so out of a feeling of societal and familial pressure. Or so… or so I had thought at the time.

"I could be clever Lady Lea, but I genuinely do not know." I shrugged.

"You do not have suspicions?" she asked with a disappointed pout.

"A Wing like Tribune Quirinus's is quite valuable. I'm sure we'll have another assignment," I allowed. We had seven pilots dead, and I would not be surprised if we got more empty arming-chairs due to medical discharges. The four Squadrons would need time to heal and train to get back to full strength. Hopefully, we would get it.

Lea held out a hand to capture the falling snowflakes that sparkled on her palm. "Duty is weighty for the warders of the Spine."

I had a moment to ponder her words before a quartet of gleaming figures burst through the overcast cloud cover in a screech of maximum thrust. Wreathed in droplets and whipping fog, the Polyxo Suits shone with all their might and power. This had been to plan, but something...

I immediately spotted that they were in strike configuration with full on Lances. In addition to the flasks for the Lances, familiar canisters were bolted onto the suits. That I could identify their equipment was due to years of experience, heightened senses, and that those four madwomen were running without any kind of Veiling.

Descending, the Flight looked like an errant tail from any of them could cut roof-tiles. Before I could frown at the lack of Veiling, the Flight lit up in sparkling comets as the staggered diamond formation shone with contrails of silver, cobalt, and obsidian glitter that rained down onto the street.

Midway through their journey, the members of Flight Two, this had to be VioletBlood's doing, ripple-fired the mortars they had bolted onto their suits and shells launched to the sides where they burst into waterfalls of red flames that screamed and flashed as they fell.

The tri-colored sparkles of the detonating fireworks rained down, adding to the swirling white flakes. Before the first quartet had crossed over us, another pair of RP shot past a hair's breadth higher. Wind blew in a gale and a pair of sonic booms slammed over us. In a blink, the two Polyxo had vanished back into the clouds, their wakes disturbing the sparkly contrails of the slightly slower formation.

My eyes were dazzled with spots and my ears rang. Sniffing the air, my nose was filled with the scent of pyrotechnics that I had not smelled since my days as a cadet.

Or that night over Narvos before my twelfth birthday. The night where I made ace. The first time LoveBlood and I flew in combat.

Watching the flight fly back up into the clouds, I scowled. This was the Lady Legate's doing. She had been banking on my exploits. Had she brought along a set of glitter dispensers and pyrotechnics mortars? Or had VioletBlood ordered her Ritualista to hide such indulgences among Flight Two's equipment. Was this why VioletBlood was being so... familiar yesterday? She must have known about this and had made sure her people were trained up. Her Flight was the only one in my Squadron that was at full strength.

I glanced over and saw that Lea had gleefully clapped her hands. "Oh lovely! Poppet, I would so want to see those Lances, are they not called? Yes, those Lances fire. Missing out on experiencing such carnage is so very lamentable."

"That was an adequate display," Redcap begrudgingly admitted as he and Fabia stood at the threshold of the now open front door.

Tail swishing, Fabia gave him a smug look.

Meanwhile, Lea's attention was on the half dozen Broadcast Recon troops in their light lorica that blended into the background. Six cubical shipping crates were lowered by their carrying loops, and deposited onto the cobbles where they disturbed drifts of sparkling, sulfurous snow.

Despite the secured lids, a more appetizing aroma came from the crates. The Hoof-sloggers looked up to us, exposing their necks, and saluted Fabia and I before they vanished in another flare of arcane light.

Will the wonders never cease? I resisted the urge to let out a tired sigh I felt with all my many years.

Personal teleportation troops were one of the rarest specializations in the Legions, and the Lady Legate had just used them as food delivery girls. I wondered what those Broadcast Recon troopers thought of all this? Did they get enough of a bead on Lea and the Redcap to realize who they were, what they were?

Or were they old enough hands at CSR nonsense to not ask any questions? Regardless, as LoveBlood had shown, there were plenty of eyes in the sky. This included the other six pilots in my Squadron. While VioletBlood had surprised me, Visha's role was something I had planned. And Visha had obeyed by keeping a Flight's worth of RP to stay above the cloud cover, ready to provide heavy fire support at a moment's notice. She just happened to have six more suits at her disposal, which I had assumed could be moved to support the other Squadrons in our Demi-Wing.

"Dinner and a show?" Lea asked once more, glancing up into the sky.

"As a multi-role rapid deployment platform, the Polyxo has much to offer," I stated.

"Oh poppet, for a nun must you use such clinical terminology?" Lea sighed as she walked towards the crates. "Would you drain the passion, the mystery, the magic, out of everything the grand tapestry of existence has to offer?"

"The Countess? She's merely reserved; it is how she grapples with the chaos of life," Invidia stated with an almost genuine-seeming smile as she approached us.

I eyed the black-haired woman; she had stepped aside to set up the supply drop but could have also been doing some other sinister scheming.

"Ah, excellent timing," JadeJavelin came out the front doors that Fabia and Redcap had left open. "Shall we?" she asked, walking towards the neat line of crates.

I followed the others with Lea at my side. The tempting scents grew as we drew ever closer. Unbidden, I could feel temptation gnaw at my gut, but I tried to maintain my composure, to guard myself against fae prying.

"The ship's cooks have outdone themselves," Fabia noted as she lifted a lid. Inside were stacked metal baking pans with foil lids. Tendrils of steam wafted up, and I paused to take in the scent of sausages, steak, and baked chicken.

Invidia quickly checked a crate packed with ice and had various bottles and cartons, while the Lady Legate took one that had been filled with fresh fruit. I was not too proud to admit that I eyed that collection covetously.

Having been on the Tarantula Hawk for not even two weeks, I was already craving fresh produce. I suppose this was part of the resupply when we rendezvoused with the DarkStar and the fleet train.

My spirits lifted a bit at the prospect of a meal with some variety. I went to an unopened crate. This one had a sweet but spiced smell coming from it. I pulled the lid and frowned. Inside was a collection of flatware, plates, and glassware carefully packed in napkins and other linens. The scent was coming from a couple potpourri packets off to one side. I stared at the dried flowers and herbs.

I could only laugh at the absurdity of the preparations and games CSR went through for this operation. There was enough bric-a-brac here to set up a formal dinner. Truly, they were all crazy demons; it seemed that those lessons in etiquette would not be wasted.

Despite there being six crates and six of us, it was obvious that our guests were less than willing to do such mundane tasks as moving crates. While even the Lady Legate had taken a burden of produce, Lea seemed comfortable sipping her wine glass, and Redcap watched with amusement.

Regardless, bringing everything into the guildhall and unpacking it was done with relative ease. Inside, thanks to the Lady Legate's magic it actually felt warm. The artificial lighting was bright, revealing a pair of long old wood tables with a set of chairs around one. The food was unpacked around the other table with the plates and glassware to one end.

"I am afraid serving will be buffet style," the Lady Legate noted as she opened a bottle.

"Alas, such suffering must be borne when one roughs it in the field," Lea noted somberly as she intricately folded napkins at each seating place. Her own basket had been portioned out to make an oeuvres platter. "Yet is it not said that these minor inconveniences only serve to make the true indulgences all the richer."

"Yeah, we've hardly got a full bar here," Fabia dryly said as she put a splash of pail green oily-looking anise-smelling liquor into a stout glass and mixed it with a dash of sugar and a spray from a seltzer bottle. "But it beats field rations. Or… you know. 'Field Rations'."

I decided to ignore that. Instead, taking my own refreshment with a glass of cider, I gave the lone still-closed crate a quick peek. Inside was a collection of sorbets and gelatos.

"Spoiling your appetite?" Invidia inquired.

I glanced at the small plate she bore, which had a collection of petit fours and other little pastries, and simply raised an eyebrow.

"As if I would begrudge you from indulging a bit to celebrate. I'm hardly that cruel, Countess. You more than earned a tasty treat," Invidia assured, the conciliatory tone seeming at odds with her sharp features and cold eyes. "If nothing else… think of this as my small way of paying an investment towards a worthwhile asset, hmm?"

That, if nothing else, set my mind somewhat at ease.

"It would not be the first time for her, no?" Redcap asked with his own plate of cheese, sausage, and ribs. Despite being inside, he had kept his woolen cap on, though he had at least divested himself of his coat.

"Those times were different," I argued as I picked up a plate and approached the buffet line. I did have to angle to one side to keep from knocking the table with the hilt of my loaned sword. Out of politeness, I took some of the cheese and crackers that Lea had brought.

"Different in the indulgence or the choice of meat?" Redcap asked, his own pointed white teeth flashing.

As I filled my plate with some smoked fish and a fruit salad, I eyed him. "Why the questions?" I asked as I took some honeyed dates. "I doubt a man of your experience and rank would indulge in squeamishness over such things."

His crooked grin was dashing and roguish, but those eyes were still flat as a predator's. "Oh, I'm not. But you will pardon someone taking fascination in a warrior society's stories venerating anthropophagy."

Tail flicking, I returned the smile. Fabia and the Lady Legate had approached. Both were having a little nosh, though the elder demoness was watching with the same politely-interested expression. JadeJavelin nodded to me as if to allow me to respond.

"I can't deny that my actions haven't been the source of stories," I shrugged, gamely trying to conceal my amusement at the Fae's misreading of BlackSkyvian culture. We were not a warrior society.

Oh yes, the Legionnaires, Fleet personnel, and Axillaries were greatly respected. And individual heroism was elevated, much to my personal annoyance. However, the BlackSkyvian military was a collection of soldiery, not warriors.

The Lady Legate's lack of displeasure showed I had made the right decision in not correcting Redcap's misconception. One might point out that the history of Diyu, or a least the first three Epochs, was all about learning the folly of being a "warrior culture", said culture being extinguished in the War of Reprisal alongside the doctrine of Elder Demonesses being the key strategic and tactical war-fighting asset.

Though a real cynic would point out that the "modern" Diyu of the Fourth Epoch has seen more global conflict in four hundred years than in any of the preceding Epochs, each roughly sixteen hundred years. A roughly four-fold increase in war. "Admittedly, we do have a long history of conflict," I allowed.

"The Great Houses do pride themselves on being so very civilized," Lea added with her own vicious smile. She seemed most pleased with herself for having negotiated this meal with the Lady Legate.

Redcap's smile slashed anew. "Civilized," he enunciated as if tasting the word and then thoughtfully chewed on a spare-rib. "I can't say I've ever seen the appeal before, but now...."

"History is full of gratifying examples," Invidia stated.

Redcap rolled his eyes. "If one relishes washing out all the blood, terror, and intrigue."

Lea shrugged. "My associate prefers a more hands-on perspective."

"Understandable, none of us here are shy about getting our claws wet," Invidia said.

This drew an amused smile from Fabia as she ate some ribs of her own, put her glass down, and took a seat.

Lea took a place across from her and, using silverware, ate with surprising delicacy. "I've been told it's a rare treat to use your wargear in such close confines."

"And this was not your first time." Redcap said almost eagerly, as he sat down next to Lea.

"Oh? You mean when I was a cadet?" Fabia asked.

"La, that time's been well-told," Lea leaned closer. "Our interest is the second time."

Fabia's composure slipped for a bare moment, but she rallied gamely. "Ah, when I was nineteen?"

To give moral support, I took a seat at Fabia's left. It also put the table between myself and the fae. The two CSR spies were of little help with the Lady Legate at the head of the table and Invidia across from her at the foot.

"That raid on Sevillia?" my fellow Squadron leader clarified.

After sipping her wine, Lea shrugged. "I care little for those trifles."

"Perhaps you're talking of the time she ate Trosic flesh," Redcap helpfully added.

The aggressive redhead's smile grew as she clapped her hands. "Oh yes, if we're thinking of the same story then our aqua-feathered centurion was in quite the vicious spot."

Fabia met JadeJavelin's eye and, without breaking her gaze, emptied her glass and handed it to me. "Make it neat, Countess."

I obliged her and went to find the absinthe bottle. My trip was delayed when the Lady Legate had gotten up to refill her own whiskey glass.

"We just have to last a social function," she assured me, putting the amber bottle back with the other on the impromptu bar. The elder demon's tail swished as she looked over her shoulder.

Fabia was well into her story and was talking about how the Fleet had bugged out, leaving her team high and dry on an enemy world. She was most grateful when I walked up and neatly snatched the glass with its green fluid out of my hands.

She caught herself before our fingers could touch, if barely, and pulled her hand back.

"Thank you, Tauria," Fabia said cupping her palm so I could place the glass.

Taking a long drink, Fabia tapped her fingers on the table before resuming her story.

Eating my meal, I tried to be supportive and nod alone in all the right places. It was made easier by Fabia's "misadventure" being a harrowing tale told with a wry wit that gave the collection of screwups from the Fleet's early withdrawal, to the weapons misfires on a Flight's worth of Sarpedona due to a maintenance screwup, to Trosic Marines discovering the ground team calling down air support which due to a navigational error ends with Trosic RP firing on their own Marines.

By the time Fabia got to the bloody climax, I had gotten up to refill my plate.

I was mulling over if I wanted to risk the potential mess that came with stew when Fabia's recounting concluded, and, with her blue wings drooping, she went to her meal.

My tail straightened in shock as the fae woman suddenly slipped up next to me. "Quite the story, Countess?" she asked.

"It was... vivid," I allowed as I refreshed my own glass.

"I must admit that my curiosity is not fully sated." Lea gave me a sharp smile.

"Oh?" I asked carefully, feeling very much like I'd just been handed a live grenade.

"Who you are makes for a most enticing tale," Lea's smile widened as she opened a fresh bottle of wine and looked over the petite fours and other desserts. " Your story makes who you are. Why not indulge me? I suspect yours to be a tale most enticing."

"I'm sure you've read plenty about me," I said, affecting boredom as I finished refilling my own plate.

"Poppet, I am aware that the storied version those tales portray is but a shadow," Lea actually had the gall to wag a chiding finger in my face.

I managed not to glare at the fae. "That reputation has followed me for years. It is flattering, but over-exaggerated in its enthusiasm."

"Shadows do more than follow. La, one would think you would not be so... young." Drinking the deep red wine, the Unseelie studied me critically. "You should know the power of such things, especially for one such as you. It is not just Names that have power, poppet. Even an echo, even a shadow has a power, if properly wielded."

I frowned. "Thank you... but I'm not sure I need to learn such a thing."

The redhead gave a very patiently haughty sigh that reminded me of the few times my Duchess was disappointed in me. Nobles always had a way of expressing themselves. "Do not let your pride result in your untimely death, poppet. Few are so secure as to turn down knowledge."

"But at what cost?" Invidia asked as she came up bearing a small platter of glasses. Back at the table, Redcap was having a surprisingly animated conversation with the Lady Legate while Fabia watched.

"Always a cost, the scales must be balanced." Lea's smile grew warm and delighted.

Tail flicking, I tried to keep the pensive expression off my face. A lot of blood had been spilled to get that cursed mirror, and we had just handed it over.

"Indeed," Lea gave a light laugh. "Do you want to know what your Imperatrix is getting from my Queen?"

"That knowledge seems ill-worth the cost." Invidia's face was impassive. "Given what else is on offer."

I held my tongue. I knew a leading question and would not play their game.

Lea laughed. "Oh, do not fret. I am used to the stubbornness of youth."

My mouth opened to protest, but my mind managed to get control of my mouth. I stared at her. Cold paranoia ran down my spine from my wings to the tip of my tail. "As you say, I still have years of youth. That, years is before I'm grown," I carefully stated with all the fumbling delicacy of trying to defuse an old mine with shaking hands.

"Did I say such a thing?" Lea teased and looked to Invidia for confirmation.

"I can't say," the black-winged spy allowed while refilling the various drinks. Her flat almost-grey eyes pierced me.

I nodded. I had been warned. She had warned me: the fae could lie with the truth. And Lea didn't say that I was a youth. She merely implied it. That left open... My mouth dried. I picked up my own glass of cider and nearly drained it.

I felt dread at being caught between beings with vastly more power than myself. Yes, I was a soldier oathed to serve my Imperatrix against her peers and rivals among the Diyu Great Houses, but that was... impersonal. I was just another cog in a vast imperial war-machine.

This... this felt like being a toy. I was a bauble the Lady Legate was dangling in front of the fae as a shiny lure to entrance the Lords and Ladies. I had been the plaything of eldritch beings before, and I cared little to repeat it.

"Poppet, have you considered learning to relax? All this dourness and stress could be the death of you," Lea laughed as she beckoned for me to go back to the dining table "Come, I would love to hear more of your stories."

I gave Invidia a frosty glance, which she returned impassively. "Come, Countess, we require just a bit more of your forbearance tonight," she stated, typically and frustratingly aloof.

Giving a sigh, I made my excuses to the others and went to the facilities Fabia and Invidia had set up earlier. As field-improvised latrines went, the guildhall's old bathroom was more than acceptable despite the lack of running water. There were already filled buckets of water and even some soap for washing. True luxury.

After returning, I refilled my glass. I decided to go for the stew and filled a small bowl. When I finally got back to the table, I found Invidia finishing up a quick story.

"The key thing is to remember that freeport Harbor-Mistresses are eminently practical ladies. One has to be out on the edge of the Spine. They know their livelihoods are caught between the whims of the local ruler and her bully-girls, merchant conglomerates looking to squeeze outworlders for a few denarii more, and any Great House fleet that decides to burn anyone providing aid and comfort to pirates.

"And that's not even counting the pirates themselves. Who range from idled mercenaries driven to the meanest of work, to desperate tramp freighters turning second-hand weapons on their former kin, to privateers flush with surplus gear of quite deniable origins." Invidia said her delivery, dry with just a bit of a sarcastic edge.

Pondering the trailing-end of her tale, I used the opportunity alone to eat. Contrary to the proclamations of the Great Houses, Diyu itself was far from a peaceful bastion of civilization. However, things got even harder the further one went out in the Dimensional Spine. And despite the massive military expenditures the Great Houses put into securing their offworld colonies, said fleets were still dwarfed by the amount of commercial traffic. Traffic that both provided targets and camouflage to a variety of predators.

"At any moment a Harbor-Mistress has to worry that such... independent traders might tire of using her port for fencing their ill-gotten gains and instead turn to pillaging said port. Which I don't need to explain is exactly the opposite type of commercial exchange a small independent port needs to survive."

Redcap's eyes gleamed. "Ah, such people wouldn't truck with brigands if they didn't need their money, would they?"

"Quite. But the dock-workers aren't powerless. A sloppy crew may not look too closely at what stevedores are loading or unloading. Not until they're up into the sky and their hold gets turned inside out. " Invidia paused to sip her drink. "Or so I've been told."

"And for those who are cautious?" Lea inquired.

"The Harbor-mistress is not without friends. The local dives, provisioners, artificers, and brothels all depend on the port not being razed to the ground. More than a few troublesome pirates have spent their last moments in companionable then surprised silence with a woman of negotiable affection. The trick is to use your claws at the most unguarded and... intimate moment. Though, it does make quite the unfortunate mess."

"Or so you've been told?" Lea teased.

Invidia smirked. "Oh, some things I can speak with direct experience."

It was hard to imagine Invidia in such a role. It was not a lack of physical charms. She was literally from a species of seductresses after all. The problem was that while her body might technically meet all the physical requirements to be the equal of any seductress on Diyu, her demeanor and personality were utterly charmless. But, she was a spy and, presumably, could act.

That didn't make hearing such stories of the CSR operative conducting such lurid wetwork exactly appetizing, though.

I slowly put down my fork at that unpleasant mental image of Invidia conducting a honey pot act with all the vitality of rigor mortis. Though at a glance around the table, I saw that everyone else was merrily eating, even Fabia. Crazy fae. Crazy demons.

"It was supporting such a mission where I met Tribune Quirinus," Invidia mildly stated.

My tail stiffened slightly, and despite her poker-face even Fabia twitched at that.

Invidia caught our looks and just rolled her eyes, "Oh nothing so tawdry. Besides that's a waste of a valuable pilot; her Flight was providing fire support in case our operation missed any of the target ship's officers or the vessel tried to take off."

"That mission resulted in several fruitful new relations," the Lady Legate commented idly.

"Sounds lovely." Lea relished her wing before turning to me. "And what about you, Countess? I am quite curious about your own adventures. Perhaps when you were young and desperate?"

My tail flicked. I attempted to deflect. "I've told the story of how I earned the Preserver Crown quite often. Perhaps something more…unique would be more to your tastes?"

Lea pouted. "I suppose I could hear about your romantic life with your betrothed and your mistress."

My tail dropped. Maybe talking about the Preserver Crown and that fight wouldn't be so bad? I reconsidered. "Well..."

I could just feel the amusement coming from Fabia and Invidia.

"It all sounds so romantic!" Lea clapped her hands.

"The flower of nobility nourished in the glory of war," the Lady Legate observed, her tone desert-dry.

"Fine, fine." I looked into my glass. "I was part of a ballet troupe that was visiting the Andromachin city of Narvos. It was supposed to be a peaceful night at the opera but my mother Duchess SilverFlight had a favor for me..."

I fell into the familiar rhythm of telling the tale of the first time in this life where I was forced to kill, forced to feed. I was not lying. I had told this story many times, and as much as I disliked the notoriety it engendered, I was not above using the advantages it gave me.

It was disquieting to see the naked glee that Lea and the Redcap reveled in, especially when I got to the bloodier parts. Fabia's professional interest was not expected, but even the two CSR spooks were amused, with Invidia actually giving a chuckle when I got to the end and how I used glitter to blind and defeat the War Mistress.

I must confess that after I concluded telling my tale, I felt a bit more at ease. And while it was not comfortable being caught between such... dangerous dinner guests, I was able to at least enjoy the food and let the meal pass with less open anxiety.

After the warm guildhall, going back into the bitter wind outside was an unpleasant surprise. The food and drink had been boxed up with the crates lined up to one side of the plaza.

Holding her picnic basket, Lea watched us work with some amusement.

"What else would they do?" Redcap asked, gnawing meat off one last plate of ribs.

"No reason to leave it behind," Fabia said.

"Ah, a reward for your subordinates?" Lea asked.

"Quite," the Lady Legate said as she raised a hand and, with an extended finger, and a bright green beam of light shot up like a flare that punched through the heavy cloud cover.

A fresh gust of wind rustled my wings. Exhaling, I looked up into the sky. Thunder rolled above us, followed by more heartening sounds.

The clouds blew apart as a Flight of familiar Polyxo descended and took position over the abandoned down circling in an ominous formation. Another RP Flight flew in their wake, these were Sarpedona that formed a closer ring that flew with naked bellicosity as the air practically hummed with charged weapons.

Finally, a Spatha descended through this protective cordon. Engines growling, the VTOL made a direct line towards the plaza. Snow whipped around us as it approached. Landing gears lowering, the Spatha set down and the rear ramp lowered.

I joined Invidia and Fabia to form a line and bucket-brigade style passed the crates to the VTOL's load mistress, who worked to secure the cargo. While this happened, the Lady Legate exchanged a few words with the fae.

JadeJavelin walked towards us. "Good job," she told myself and Fabia, her voice carrying over the idled engines before walking past us and up the Spatha's ramp. Invidia shrugged and gave the plaza one last scan.

"We'll be watching your careers with great interest," Lea gave us a confident little smile and a wave.

Fabia awkwardly returned the wave while the three of us went into the Spatha. I turned back and saw Redcap had pulled off his crimson chapeau and held it over his chest in a mock salute. His cold eyes met mine, and he flashed his sharp teeth before the ramp rose up and closed with a thud.

Shaking my head, I went over to an open seat and strapped in. The engines increased in power and, with a roar, the Spatha took off, and I closed my eyes. I had spent enough time dealing with Harp's World, Forlorn Prospect, and meddling fae.

End Chapter 31

And here we are at the end of the Harp's World arc. It's been a bit of a paranoid and fraught journey but at least Tauria should be on her way home and can how focus on fretting about the mission's fallout and her next assignment.

Ch 32 stands at one scene and over 4k written, and there is a bunch of upcoming art.

Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter and helping with this whole arc. And Special thanks to ScarletFox for helping punch up Tauria's vision

Cned14 · Mar 12, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
Code:

[code]

[/code]

Was this supposed to be something?

Sunshine Temple · Mar 12, 2024

Cned14 said:
Was this supposed to be something?

Just a formatting mistake, should be fixed now

Simonbob · Mar 12, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
JadeJavelin walked towards us. "Good job," she told myself and Fabia, her voice carrying over the idled engines before walking past us and up the Spatha's ramp. Invidia shrugged and gave the plaza one last scan.

"We'll be watching your careers with great interest," Lea gave us a confident little smile and a wave.

I can only say, wipe out all the Fae. And spooks, I'm not sure there's a difference.

RogueInquisitor · Mar 12, 2024

Simonbob said:
I can only say, wipe out all the Fae. And spooks, I'm not sure there's a difference.

Oh, spooks are far more trustworthy, even when lying to your face.

Sunshine Temple · Mar 12, 2024

Simonbob said:
I can only say, wipe out all the Fae. And spooks, I'm not sure there's a difference.

That would be... challenging. But yeah, they are... frustrating to deal with.

RogueInquisitor said:
Oh, spooks are far more trustworthy, even when lying to your face.

Which is saying a lot. And in this specific case the Lady Legate and Invidia do seem loyal to the Imperatrix and the House.

Rymu · Mar 12, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
I tried to control my heart. This woman was not something new. I had spent this whole life around violence-crazed women. I had worked under elder demonesses and dealt with their casually oppressive power. DarkStar's blood, I was engaged to Baroness VioletBlood, a woman for whom violence was only ever an errant twitch away!

This is an interesting reaction from Tanya, also mildly hypocritical on her part and soft on Visha who are also pretty violent.

I get the feeling that Tanya would love nothing more to collapse into a soft pile of her Vs after this stressful little picnic.

Sunshine Temple · Mar 13, 2024

Rymu said:
This is an interesting reaction from Tanya, also mildly hypocritical on her part and soft on Visha who are also pretty violent.

I get the feeling that Tanya would love nothing more to collapse into a soft pile of her Vs after this stressful little picnic.

She is more willing to excuse Visha's actions. It helps that Visha tends to be more overtly nicer where VioletBlood can be an... acquired taste.

And yah, they totally couls use some R&R after this whole operation

Rymu · Mar 13, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
She is more willing to excuse Visha's actions. It helps that Visha tends to be more overtly nicer where VioletBlood can be an... acquired taste.

And yah, they totally couls use some R&R after this whole operation

I really want to make a racy joke about Tanya acquiring Violetblood's taste.

Sunshine Temple · Mar 13, 2024

Rymu said:
I really want to make a racy joke about Tanya acquiring Violetblood's taste.

Hah! They are engaged. But VB has to be careful that Tanya doesn't just bite her hand.

Thomas Bennett · Mar 30, 2024

Good chapter.

Sunshine Temple · Mar 31, 2024

Thomas Bennett said:
Good chapter.

Thanks! It was great to conclude this arc!

ellf · Apr 7, 2024

And Omake time! Chapter Two of Knight Sirens!

Knight Sirens

Chapter Two

The Mountain felt empty with everyone gone. Nightwing and Artemis were back in Gotham, Kid Flash was in KeyStone City, Zatanna was visiting friends of her father, and Red Arrow was dealing with some of the fallout that came from the reveal of his status. It made it hard for M'gann M'orzz to sleep without those comforting presences. Sure, Kaldur and Connor were still in the Mountain and that helped, but the absence of the rest of the team ached.

Kaldur was asleep in his room; she could feel it. He'd spent a good portion of the day training, and M'gann couldn't fault the Atlantean for taking his rest when he could get it. There wasn't any major mission that the Team was needed for at the moment, but she knew that could change at a moment's notice. M'gann almost hoped it would. After all, the Mountain would be full again, and the familiar minds would help her rest.

She wandered into the kitchen, careful not to make much noise, and she considered what was available. Perhaps some cookies? She might wake someone up if she overdid it, but at least they'd have some sweets to offset any upset they might get. Wait, was that correct phrasing? Well, perhaps not, but it wasn't like she was trying to be perfect. After all, cookies just needed the right amount of love, combined with the recipe, in order to sweeten the pot.

M'gann mixed her ingredients, accidentally dropping one of the metal bowls before she could catch it. Perhaps she was trying to alert someone to her presence, just so she wouldn't be alone. There were those with enhanced hearing in the Mountain at that time, after all.

M'gann felt Superboy stirring from his room, and a private smile came to her face. He'd enjoy the cookies, but even more, he'd enjoy helping. Or at least licking the bowl.

He made his way into the kitchen, dressed in shorts and a muscle shirt. "Guessing you couldn't sleep?"

M'gann couldn't help her eyes tracing his form, but she simply smiled at him, turning her private one toward him directly. "Not really. With everyone gone, it's quiet here."

"Yeah, it is," Connor said. "With Wally Artemis and Robin--excuse me, Nightwing, back at their homes… I can only hear you and Kaldur. I guess you've gotten used to all of us."

M'gann nodded. It wasn't that she hadn't been alone before, but the comfort of others, others who were friends and willing to not only put up with her, but welcomed her in their presence… she felt spoiled by it. Still, Superboy's presence was comforting. As it always was, these days. She smiled at him. "I'm sure I'll sleep eventually. I just need to tire myself out."

"How can I help?" Connor asked.

M'gann directed him, and soon the two fell into an easy silence, anticipating the needs as they went along. The recipe was easy enough, as M'gann had made it before, and soon enough, they had the cookies in the oven.

As they cleaned up their preparatory dishes, the Zeta-Tube console and reception area activated, lighting up in preparation for transit.

"Odd time of night," Connor said, frowning as he stepped toward the Zeta-Tube, placing himself between it and M'gann. He wasn't wrong. Usually, the League would call before directly coming over. However, it wasn't like exceptions hadn't happened.

"I don't think we're expecting anyone," M'gann said. She frowned, glancing toward Aqualad's room. "Do you think we should wake Kaldur?"

"Not yet," Connor said. "No messages came in. We'd have heard it, with us out here. We can buzz his communicator, but he doesn't need to "

M'gann nodded. The rings on the Zeta-Tube started spinning. Before she could respond to her friend, the console announced the arrivals. "Recognized, Nightwing, B-01. Guest User BlackFire, A-08. Guest User FrostShadow, A-09."

Connor and M'gann shared a look of confusion before looking toward the Zeta-Tube exit. Guests were not unheard of in the Mountain, but they usually were somewhat known. With the names given, clearly they were of the more masked variety and not civilians.

Nightwing was a familiar mind to M'gann. She gave him a brief telepathic greeting, a brush across his mind, before directing her attention to the people he brought with him. An initial brush indicated a lack of humanity. Not that they had ill intentions or anything, but they certainly didn't feel the way humans tended to. Nor, M'gann noted, did they feel Martian.

Whatever they were, she could feel a psychic resonance within them. A sort of telepathic and empathic link connected the two visitors, and as she reached out to them, they started to reach out back. The way they felt was almost familiar, familial, yet it was different enough that she pulled away after the first touch, out of an abundance of caution. Whatever they'd done, it had been instinctive.

Nightwing brought the pair out of the Zeta-Tube, a pair of winged humanoids, one with leathery wings, the other, smaller one with more feathered ones, and the two of them seemed somewhat disoriented at first.

Then the disorientation shifted to something worse. It was as if a dam had burst, and a psychic scream echoed throughout the Mountain so loud that M'gann almost didn't hear the vocal one that accompanied it. It pushed her down onto a knee, slamming into her own psychic defenses, weighing her down. The pain, the immense, overwhelming pain. It was theirs, she felt it pressing down upon her, everything they felt. The two had fallen, nearly catatonic themselves.

"M'gann!" Superboy was at her side in an instant. He wrapped an arm around her, and she felt more than saw him look up at Nightwing. "What's going on, Nightwing? What did you bring here?"

"I didn't know this would happen!" Nightwing said. "They were fine back in Gotham! Miss M! M'gann, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Hurts…" M'gann said, focusing on the familiar minds nearby, trying to push away the ocean she felt flowing through the guests. Her skin rippled near her forehead as she almost lost her form, but she adjusted it back. It wasn't her pain. She could block it out, now that she knew where it was coming from. She let out a sharp breath. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Connor. It's your guests that I'm worried about."

"I don't know what's going on," Nightwing said. "They didn't seem too worried about the Zeta-Tubes when they came, but… this…"

"What are they?" Superboy asked. "The feathered wings on that one… well, she's still got too many other features to be a Thanagarian…"

"They said they were from a place called Diyu," Nightwing said. "Demons or aliens, given that it's an alternate plane of existence or something. Batman believed them, and he asked if they could stay here."

M'gann turned her attention closer to the supposed demons. She carefully, without lowering much of her shields, touched the barest edges of the minds. Empathy. Both were highly empathic, but the smaller one was even more so than the larger, given her longer, curled horns. Add whatever happened with the Zeta-Tubes… "It's too much. Too much input. They can feel all of Happy Harbor… from here. Oh… wait. Huh. Hello, Megan! The solution's simple!"

"What?" Connor asked.

"The bioship! It can help block out the excess emotions and help them!" M'gann looked at her friends. "Connor, do you think you could carry them both there? Nightwing, check on Kaldur? I think he should be awake for some of this."

Nightwing nodded. "I really should be getting back to help out--" At M'gann's sharp look, he held up both hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll go see what he's up to."

"You know where the room is," Connor said, and he scooped up both girls with ease. A brief shudder went through him as he touched their skin with his own, maybe something to do with the G-Gnomes? He shouldered them and glanced at M'Gann. "They're not that heavy. Do you really think the bioship can help?"

M'gann nodded, floating alongside her friend as he carried the guests. "If it's not enough, some distance should help some more." She was worried a little about them. Their eyes were open, darting around, yet not focusing on either Connor or herself, and their tails thrashed back and forth while they were carried. It was lucky that Connor was harder to hurt than a normal human, but it helped that neither one was using their clawed hands to scratch at him, instead mostly being limp in his grasp. M'gann hadn't heard of any species like them, nor had she heard of Diyu at all. Demons, aliens… something that could be considered both?

Of course, given Mars's isolationist state before her uncle arrived on Earth, it was possible that someone had encountered Diyu before. She just hadn't heard about it. M'gann adjusted her mental shielding as they came upon the bioship's hangar. She couldn't help them if she fell back into the same state as the guests.

She gestured for the ship's boarding platform to lower, and she led Connor inside with the girls. "Place them down on the ground, anywhere that looks comfortable."

"Sure," Connor said, following her command. "So, you were saying something about excess emotion before?"

M'gann nodded, using the biomorphic properties of her ship to generate a safe area for the two alien girls to rest. Once no longer in Connor's arms, they thrashed about, their bodies trying to latch onto something. As their mouths opened, M'gann noted the sharp fangs in each of their mouths, matching with their horns and tails, somehow. She carefully moved, placing a hand on each of their heads, shivering at the touch. The raw emotion filtered through them was almost too much to handle, even with her shields. "Something happened during the Zeta-Tube transit. I suspect that normally, they have some sort of mental shields to block out emotion, sort of like my own, but both are very empathic and slightly telepathic. Something disrupted those shields when they went through, and it overwhelmed them."

Connor frowned. "And the ship can create its own shields to help them?"

"That's the theory," M'gann said. "It does have a sort of shielding, but whether it's enough… "

Connor nodded. "Do you need me here with you to help them?"

"Not exactly," she said. "They should hopefully come back to themselves soon enough, and Nightwing trusted them enough to take them with him here. But if you wanted to…"

Connor smiled, placing one of his hands on her own. "I could. NIghtwing and Kaldur can wait, and if they're hostile…"

M'gann met his smile with one of her own, and she patted his hand with her free one. She then turned her attention to the Diyu aliens. Diyuvians? Close enough. With the shielding up, they started to still. M'gann ran a hand through the powder-blue hair of the smaller one, careful not to dislodge the hairpins she had placed there.

Now that they were in the shielding of the bioship, it didn't seem as if either was telepathic the way Martians were, but there was a form of something akin to it there, in addition to the empathy. The girl's eyes remained unfocused, roving around the bioship. M'gann felt a little guilty over what she felt she needed to do, but if she was to help them, she needed to see what she was working with.

So she delved into the girl's mind.

The imagery of a great forest flickered before her, the vast reaches of space, and then M'gann's eyes locked tightly on the girl's. The blue pools, almost like ice crystals, held shadows within them, flitting about, never quite the same as they were there. The blue eyes overtook her entire vision as she delved further into the girl's mind.

The girl, FrostShadow, had a mind full of secrets, ones that M'gann instinctively avoided, but she still saw. She held herself to a high standard, with a desire to help people that permeated throughout. She saw a city of trees, a key. A gate. Shadows and ice, and storms surrounding her and her older sister. Death. Destruction. She saw a massive battle, a series of massive battles. Deaths, and then a need to pull back. She was more affected by it, and… then M'gann was forced away, but she found herself hugging the girl tightly, and the emotions grew more intense. The selfless actions, even in the face of adversity, meant that the girl was good.

Then, like a moth to the flame, she probed the second girl, meeting her pair of burning red eyes in the process. BlackFire's mind was much like her younger sister's, full of secrets, full of battles. She'd been affected by what they'd needed to do as well, but she worried more about her younger sister, about FrostShadow's health. It was BlackFire that suggested they take a break and the way it happened. She loved her younger sister very much, and the two were bonded. M'gann could tell how close they were, but where FrostShadow had ice and shadow, BlackFire had her namesake. Flames surrounded M'gann, but somehow her normal fear never came. The flames wouldn't harm her. Not here. They faded away, revealing the alien girls themselves.

She hugged them both, as Connor watched.

"Whoa, what's going on, M'gann? You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, hugging the two tighter. "They've just… they've been through so much."

He frowned, nodding. He fell into a defensive stance as a rumbling sound started to come from the girls. They started to snuggle into M'gann's embrace, and it occurred to her what it sounded like. Purring. They sounded just like cats, and they even somewhat looked like them too with their graceful movements and the way they moved their eyes.

The smaller one slowly blinked, pulling slightly away from M'gann as she did so. Her eyes seemed to regain focus, and she looked around the cockpit of the bioship, curiosity wafting off of her. The smaller girl's eyes paused on Connor for a second before coming back to M'gann and meeting her own.

"Huh," said the girl as she tilted her head to the side. Her horns glinted some in the ship's lighting, and her eyes seemed to glow blue as they caught the light. "You are… new. Both of you. Perhaps, you are friends of the Nightwing?"

The girl's sister seemed to come back to herself, and she nodded.

"I'm not sure you could call us friends," said Connor, and M'gann shot him a glare.

"Of course, we're his friends," she said. "I'm called Miss Martian, and that is my friend Superboy. Who is indeed friends with Nightwing."

"Some of the time," Connor added.

The older of the pair let out a snort. "Clearly. My name is BlackFire, and she's my younger sister, FrostShadow."

M'gann heard the way she stressed the names and adjusted accordingly. BlackFire, not Blackfire, FrostShadow, not Frostshadow. It was important enough. "Nice to meet you both."

"Indeed," FrostShadow said, a smile playing cutely on her lips. "Though I did not expect to meet other nonhumans today, let alone end up on… a Martian ship?"

"Yes, this is my ship," said M'gann. "You were affected by the Zeta-Tube transition and needed some psychic shielding."

Both girls nodded. They spoke in unison for a second. "That makes sense."

"It was a form of teleportation we are not used to," FrostShadow said. "The method probably interfered with us metaphysically."

"We'll be prepared next time," BlackFire added. "And… Miss Martian and Superboy, huh? You do have… other names, correct?"

FrostShadow reached over M'gann and poked her sister in the shoulder. "BlackFire! That was rude. You should not just ask about something like that. Secret identities are secret for a reason."
BlackFire made a comment in a foreign tongue that sounded almost like Latin. That explained the accent that both had. It reminded her of the humans from Italy. Her tail swished from side to side.

FrostShadow replied in the same tongue and then nodded to both M'gann and Connor.

BlackFire sighed, and she nodded. "Apologies, Miss Martian, Superboy. My sister isn't wrong about the politeness. I managed to refrain from asking the same question of Nightwing and Batman, but in my defense, both were human. Despite my surprise about Batman."

"I did tell you," FrostShadow said.

BlackFire shrugged.

"It's okay," M'gann said.

"Sort of," Connor added. "It's not like we haven't been asked before. You were tamer than some."

"Curious," FrostShadow said, her lips quirking into a smile again as her tail swished. Amusement wafted off her. "Of course, those names are hardly the most creative that could be used. Miss Martian and Superboy? A girl from Mars and a boy with superpowers, I suppose. Any relation to Superman?"

Connor looked down, clenching his fist.

FrostShadow held up a hand. "Apologies. I did not mean to bring up something distressing."

"Kryptonian, but only partially," BlackFire observed. "That explains it. You are part human."

"I am," Connor said. "I'm a clone, a mix of his DNA and a human's."

"We see," said the girls. "Apologies again. We did not wish to cause you pain."

He waved the unclenched hand. "It's fine. Fine." He looked at them, cuddled up to M'gann and nodded. "I'm assuming FrostShadow and BlackFire aren't codenames?"

"No," said BlackFire. "They're actually our names."

"Then you can call me Connor," he said. "Just Connor."

"And my birth name is M'gann M'orzz," said M'gann. The purring sound from them, which hadn't stopped, got louder at that.

"M'gann… M'orzz… Connor…" the girls almost tasted the names.

An involuntary shudder went through M'gann, albeit not of disgust. She wasn't entirely sure, but something about the way they said her name caused a telepathic ripple, yet not an unpleasant one. It was actually the opposite of that. She wasn't sure what they did, but they were… there.

FrostShadow blinked, tilting her head to its other side. "Oh. Right. I apologize. You are… It just… Never mind."

M'gann pursed her lips, and then she reached out with her mind. Whatever had happened between the four of them had been interesting, and she needed to find out more. Unfortunately, as she brushed FrostShadow's mind, she immediately was assaulted with a pair of icy eyes that chilled her to the bone. If she pushed, she got the feeling that it would simultaneously be the best and worst decision she made that day. It certainly was tempting.

"Careful," BlackFire said after a second. "Dipping into my sister's head is a recipe for madness, and the protections she has…"

The accent was more pronounced that time. M'gann wondered where they had learned English, as for the most part, their diction was good, but the accent came through at times. More so with the younger of the pair. "I'm sorry. It's been a few months since I've been around other telepaths."

FrostShadow nodded. "I understand, but please ask permission before you try and listen in. We have strong defenses on our minds, most of the time."

"You mentioned that the Zeta Tubes disrupted those defenses," Connor said. "How are you going to be prepared for them next time?"

"We know what they feel like now," said both of them at the same time. It was a little eerie, as their voices synchronized and harmonized. "We can adjust accordingly as we prepare. We may need to study some of the literature on the technology to make sure our calculations are correct, but it should work."

"I see," said M'gann. "Do you think that your defenses are good enough to leave the bioship now? That you won't be overwhelmed?"

"We should not even be 'whelmed' about it," said the girls, smiles playing on their lips as their tails swished in unison. "Especially with the two of you there."

"How am I helping, exactly?" Connor asked.

"You both are familiar to us now, as Nightwing is," FrostShadow said. "We can use your emotions as an anchor, if it comes to that."

"Perhaps it won't," BlackFire added. "But it's good to have backups."

M'gann nodded. She could understand that, and given what she had seen from the two of them before, she was pretty confident that it was worth helping them out. She stood up and offered each of them a hand up, and so did Connor.

The two paused for a moment then with solemnity they took the hands, standing on their taloned feet, and together, the four of them left the bioship. As the four of them made their way into the hangar, both FrostShadow and BlackFire immediately sniffed the air. Curious, they must have had some sort of enhanced sense of smell, compared to that of humans or Martians.

"So, where are we, exactly?" BlackFire asked. "Batman just called this place the Mountain."

"I'm not sure if I should say," M'gann said. "We do keep locations secret, for safety reasons. Maybe if you stay longer, or we hear from some of the League, we can share it."

"It's an older League facility," Connor added. "That they repurposed for our team. I'm not sure how much you know, given what Nightwing mentioned."

FrostShadow waggled a hand. "We have heard of some of the Justice League, but how much of our knowledge is accurate is unknown. Some of the heroes had partners in our intelligence, but I am uncertain as to how much veracity it contains."

"You did research on us?" Connor asked.

BlackFire shook her head. "Not as such. We read some passing reports on various Earths as they come through, and this isn't the only one with a Justice League."

"Various Earths?" M'gann asked. "Your species does dimensional travel?"

"It is how we arrived here," FrostShadow said. "We will need to recalibrate some things to attempt a return home, but much of Diyu does reach out to extradimensional areas. Our nation even trades with multiple Earths."

"That could be interesting, I guess," M'gann said. "So you haven't encountered the League yourselves before, just in intelligence briefings?"

"Something like that," BlackFire said. She tilted her head as they made their way into a hallway. "And… it looks like the only other person here is awake now."

"That would be Aqualad," Connor said. "He spends the night here often enough."

"Any relation to the Aquaman?" FrostShadow asked.

"He's a subject of Atlantis," said M'gann. "But we'll let him introduce himself properly."

The four of them fell into a comfortable silence the rest of the walk as an ease settled over M'gann in their presence that she hadn't really felt since she left Mars, save for around Connor at times. They seemed to anticipate the directions that M'gann and Connor both wanted to go, and both Diyu-vians had no issues navigating with their help.

When they made it into the Mountain's lounge, both Kaldur and Nightwing were sitting on the couch, deep in conversation. Nightwing gave a nod and a smile upon spotting the girls up and about.

"Glad to see the two of you are feeling better," said Nightwing. "Aqualad, those are the two I was talking with you about. Meet FrostShadow, the smaller one, and her older sister, BlackFire."

Kaldur stood and bowed to the guests. "A pleasure to meet you both. It is always good to meet someone under peaceful circumstances."

"Indeed," FrostShadow said, returning the bow, dipping her horns to Kaldur. "M'gann said that you were a citizen of Atlantis. I am curious how you decided to fight for surface dwellers."

"I merely followed the example of my king," Kaldur said. "What affects the surface can affect Atlantis as well."

"That makes sense," BlackFire said, also bowing her horns. She stood up, and smiled. "And as Nightwing introduced us, I want to make it clear that those names are actually our names. We do not have the same sort of codenames as you do."

"They're soldiers," Nightwing said. "In the general sense of the word."

FrostShadow nodded. "More specifically, we are pilots within our country's Fleet."

"So, why exactly did you come here then?" Connor asked. "And by yourselves…"

"Technically, we're on a temporary assignment to a testing facility," BlackFire said. "We were in the process of testing some new hardware, and we went somewhere we… normally would not have. In order to avoid a dangerous situation, we did a blind transition and ended up in Gotham City."

"It may not have been the smartest move, but it was necessary," FrostShadow added. "We will need some time to calculate the best route back home. Batman's offer was generous, but Nightwing made it clear that it was not up to him."

"They helped with Solomon Grundy and the Joker," Nightwing said. "While wearing their power armor."

"Ritual Plate," FrostShadow said. "It requires innate energies of the pilot to help operate, whereas power armor would have a separate power source."

"If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck," Nightwing said… He shook his head. "But yeah, they don't really have a place to stay. I know we have room here, but it'd be up to you three."

"I have no objections," Kaldur said. "I would be curious to discuss these energies with you both."

M'gann nodded. She was curious to learn more about both of them as well. Plus, being with other telepaths was comforting in some ways. It reminded her of home in the best ways. "They can stay."

As everyone looked at Connor, he raised his hands. "I don't really care either way. How long are you planning on being here?"

"As long as necessary to get our bearings so we may return home," said BlackFire. "We can, perhaps, help some if you require it."

Connor nodded. "Then sure, you can stay, for now."

"Thank you, Connor," FrostShadow said.

"If you are staying, I'll introduce myself properly. I am Kaldur'ahm, of Atlantis. You may call me Kaldur in private, but I am Aqualad in the field," said Kaldur. Everyone turned to look at Nightwing.

He raised his hands and shook his head. "Sorry. We just met. Maybe after we get to know each other more, we can share that, but I'm fine with you just calling me Nightwing."

"NightWing is a nice name," FrostShadow said with a swish of her tail. Perhaps she found something amusing. "It is surprising that we have not met someone with that name before now, but I suppose some mothers would rather choose other names."

"And NightWing chose his," BlackFire said. She glanced over to her sister as FrostShadow started to yawn. "Perhaps we should retire to bed. Frost and I would like to share a room, if possible."

"You can have the room next to mine!" M'gann said with a smile. It was so nice to have additional telepaths here, and girls to boot. "I'll go ahead and show you where it is."

"Until tomorrow morning then," Kaldur said. "Nightwing, are you going to stay as well?"

"Not tonight," he said. "The new Robin's probably getting restless with Batman out alone. I should help him work off some of that stress. I'll bring him with me when the rest of the Team meets up tomorrow."

Kaldur nodded. "We will have to ensure his readiness. Hopefully he… will be better prepared than the last."

Nightwing grimaced. "Yeah. See you."

"Good night, NightWing," said the new girls, and M'gann led them into the room they would be staying in.

The room next to hers had been empty since Artemis had moved out of it entirely in favor of a room closer to Wally, but it still had a couple of twin beds, a dresser, and a mirror. The beds had the most basic of bedding on them, pillows and a light comforter. Immediately, the Diyuvians pushed the two beds together and climbed into the bed. They smiled at M'gann, and a wave of tiredness seemed to overtake them.

And her, for that matter. She was going to say good night, to head back to her own room. But something made her linger, and as she stepped closer to the bed, the girls pulled at her mentally. When she got close enough to them, FrostShadow's hand lightly landed on M'gann's arm. Somehow, she found herself lying on bed between the two of them, and before too long, sleep claimed her.

In a way, it was the best sleep she'd had since setting foot on Earth.

Sunshine Temple · Apr 21, 2024

Greetings, been a bit since there was an art update but we've got a few great pieces.

In other good news a draft of ch32 has been written and is being edited. Chapter 33 is also being outlined and will be making good progress and will be the start of a new arc that will be the second half of Book 2: More than a Shadow.

First from Scitty Kitty we have this fun piece of Lares trying to hold back a... passionate Tauria. Even lifting her off the ground does little to dampen her "enthusiasm".

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Next from Lexi Kimble with some amazing shading, colors and textures we have Tribune Artemis Quirinus in her Harmonia RP and the late Lady Primus Felicity IvoryQuiver in her Svalinna warding suit.

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In a piece very ably colored by Scitty Kitty we have a nervous DarkStar showing off a new gown to her eldest and youngest daughters.

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And from Daywalkerrl enjoy a nicely-detailed pic of Tauria telling Visha that it's time for them to go out for dinner.

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And once more from Scitty Kitty there's this great piece of Invidia trying to convince a, shall we say skeptical, Tauria.

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Finally from PlayerError404 we have Tauria being mobbed by two of her nieces Talia and Liata while in the back her maid Reinhild is trying to warn the Countess that the broodlings have gotten into the sugar.

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And thank you all for reading and enjoying this crazy story! I'm still amazed to have this continued and growing interest in Tauria's adventures.

Sunshine Temple · May 7, 2024

The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

Set in the Diyu Demons verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic.
By Sunshine Temple

Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:

Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.

Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 32: Saintly Situations

"Come on! You must see it!" VioletBlood exclaimed as she pulled me along.

The shops and boutiques along Vitrix's High Street were upscale and exotic, befitting a true Diyu metropolis. That it was a true slice of Diyu went without question – Mursam was the main world linking BlackSky's outworld colonies to the Diyu Homeplane, and much of what was imported Homeward and transfered from points out on the Spine passed through the ports here.

"You'll really like this! Lavish found this shop a couple days ago!" It was less a promise than a demand, underlined by the sheer energy in my betrothed's voice. VioletBlood was unusually chipper, as if she hoped cheer in sufficient quantity could prove contagious.

"What, did Centurion RoseTalon go shopping right after we got back?" I asked, allowing my fiancee to pull me along. It wouldn't do to cause a scene, and it was generally easier to go along with LoveBlood's whims when she got in this kind of mood than try and put my foot down.

I certainly could, if I wanted to, I told myself. I simply… don't want to right now.

Though part of me had to admit we did make a dashing couple, the baroness with her Legion service pins in her hair and a silver-trimmed and emerald evening gown while I wore Legion dress blacks, complete with all my frippery and awards. I even had that thrice damned crown perched on my head and the sword my mother and sister had given me banging about on my hip. The ostentatious decorations might be a bit rich for my blood, but even I couldn't deny Diyu's eye for aesthetics.

Compared to our finery, Visha was smartly dressed in business-wear, with sensible heels, grey pinstripe skirt, leather bustier, and matching jacket. When it came to Legion-specific ornamentation, she merely had a Volantes specialization pin in her hair over her left ear. For all that I envied her more casual wear and the comfort she appeared to be reveling in, it would not do to have her look just as my valet; we'd have to have something more for her next time.

"You know how vain Lavish is," VioletBlood laughed. "Nobles just can't help themselves."

Visha, I noticed, was laughing behind her hand, just out of LoveBlood's line of sight.

"Yes, some girls can be clueless and spoiled," I admitted.

"But we accept you anyway, faults and all," VioletBlood teased.

I did not pout as we wove our way through the crowd and past a bakery and a bistro.

"I don't mean to tease; you just have the cutest reactions," VioletBlood assured with a far too innocent smile.

I did my level best to give her my angriest scowl.

She wasn't steely enough to plow through that as she bit her lip and swiftly changed the subject, "Oh we're here, just turn left! "

I held a light glare on her that VioletBlood tried to ignore, but in the end we followed her down a side-street in the direction of a thickening crowd. I noticed the number of exasperated mothers herding excitable broodlings increased as we went.

VioletBlood pulled us along, literally in my case, in the same direction as the other people were moving. My confusion waned as a particularly twee building came into sight. Dressed with red-stone, the structure was fronted by grey granite pillars hung with green garlands of woven pine boughs twinkling with marvelous lights of a quite magical nature.

Similarly enchanting and enchanted evergreens flanked open doors through which the scents of spice and cinnamon wafted out. A long queue snaking back from the threshold was full of broodlings, all of whom were flapping their wings with impatience. I saw one terror of little girls standing below the trees dressed in their tinsel and fox-fire, staring up with stilled tails. A sure sign that each demon had mischief on their young minds.

Furthering the incongruity of the late spring day was the store's window display. With an abundance of flocking and other white fluff, a winter village was rendered in saccharine miniature, complete with ceremonial altars, carolers in the town-square, a bonfire with a split boar carcass on a giblet, and a glossy green tiny train threading through the too-adorable miniature scene.

I found myself drawn closer to the window, VioletBlood and Visha by my side. Looking deeper into the store. I saw more holiday displays, treats, and toys. My hand hovered just above the glass as I watched the simple familial bliss inside.

"Isn't it a bit early to have all this stuff up? It's not even the Ides of November, is it? Why not wait at least until the latter half of the month?" I asked, pulling my hand back.

"Saber's Watch isn't much more than a month away. Besides, this shop specializes in all sorts of winter holidays from Yule to Christmastide," VioletBlood chided me.

"Yeah, I'm just surprised to see it out here, you know. I mean in Silvana there would be decorations running from the Feast of DarkStar right through to Saint BloodRuby's day," I admitted.

VioletBlood sniffed imperiously. "That's due to Censor CloudFire and Aedile Felisia," she pointed out airily, "who by their offices must support such celebrations. Hardly an act of faith and piety."

Fair enough, I nodded to her. The Imperatrix's Daughters, especially those two, did have considerable influence on public ritual and ceremony, as was proper for the holders of such offices.

"Just because Bovitar in Eastern Province has less pomp and circumstance doesn't mean you should be surprised at one shop," VioletBlood said, the tones of disappointed despondency hanging like icicles from her words as she shook her head. "Islander girl, please, back me up on this!"

Visha nodded, dutifully rising to the occasion. "Opalescence Bay had a cute little place that was open all year and a couple more that pop up over the fall and winter."

"See!" VioletBlood practically jumped, wagging a chiding finger. "And this is the largest city in the largest colony world! Besides, more will be opening if not already; this is just the nicest one."

I gave a vague murmur of reluctant agreement, browbeaten as I was under the twin arguments of my Vs.

"And extravagance aside, Felisia and CloudFire are correct. Decorations are expected for nobles this time of year." VioletBlood looked at me with an unsettling twinkle in her green eyes. "Especially for those of particular piety."

I have a bad feeling about this, I thought, shifting uncomfortably; my wings twitching. My eyes, at their own impulse, began to scan for any clear exits.

"The Feast is a more important holiday," I tried to counter. "And has the advantage of actually being a Saint's day-"

"Agreed. Duty permitting, we'll need more decorations and observances next year," VioletBlood stated, smugly bulldozing over me.

I looked at Visha pleadingly.

"It is quite fun, no?" she replied, a warm smile full of honeyed betrayal.

"At the very least we'll need something perfunctory," VioletBlood went on, her tone abruptly all business. "Maybe a bit more. And of course your Mother Clementia would appreciate something showing your faith as well. Maybe we can get a camera and send out holiday cards with photographs?"

"She… would like that, yes," I reluctantly admitted. "And I suppose My Duchess would too…"

"So come inside!" VioletBlood smirked triumphantly as she pulled me towards the doorway.

"But we're cutting the line!" I cried.

"Oh that's just for the broodlings to sit on DarkStar's lap," VioletBlood laughed. "Or I guess that old human guy; Odin I think."

The woman dressed as DarkStar did have a full-length dress with long sleeves and matching gloves. Even with those precautions, she was clearly taking every care in the proper execution of her solemn duty, a positive sign as to her professionalism.

"Well, have you been a good girl?" Visha asked teasingly.

"That's not funny." My tail flicked as I was dragged along.

"Oh, it is," VioletBlood cheerily assured me. "Let's get you something special!"

"I'm getting a nice enough present," I half-grumbled, but allowed myself to be pulled along like a loose branch in a current.

VioletBlood rolled her eyes. "A replacement suit doesn't count."

Inside, the peppermint, spice, and pine smells were stronger and I could see a group of carolers preparing to unleash holiday wonder upon us. Despite the seasonal mismatch, the festive atmosphere was rather contagious. There were even a handful of humans, a drow family, and a family of Forest People to my silent surprise. The parents seemed a bit overwhelmed but their child was galumphing about on a pair of large feet that showed he still had plenty of growth to go.

"It will be a very nice Polyxo," I defended. "And really, an improvement to my survivability is one of the best gifts I could ever ask for."

My redheaded fiancee turned and pouted at me, squeezing my hand a bit tighter. "You will have fun today," she ordered. brooking no disobedience.

I opened my mouth.

"Without talking about work." Visha cut in, an implacably stern look on her face.

I felt myself wilt under the uncompromising gaze of my Vs.

"I am," I assured them, fending them off as we stepped to one side to keep from blocking the entryway. We were closer to the grotto-like alcove that was dressed to look something like a feasting hall, complete with an altar at one end. I tried not to twitch at the habits worn by some of the helpers. They were a close approximation to the robes of my Order, but the headdresses were all wrong. The other helpers were wearing tin armor and helmets that were more decorative than practical.

Green eyes studied me before VioletBlood turned to Visha. "Perhaps we should have gotten into the line."

"I don't need to talk to someone dressed up like DarkStar," I crossed my arms and tried to not sound petulant.

"It's not a bad costume..." Visha allowed.

"She's wearing a wig; changing her hair color would have been the least she could have done if they couldn't find someone with some proper red on their head," VioletBlood stated, giving the smiling woman on one of the wooden thrones a critical look. Next to her sat a large, barrel-chested older human male with a graying beard, crimson hunting leathers, and a sable eye patch.

His remaining blue eye twinkled as he assessed the bravery of a broodling who tried to pick up a large hammer at his feet.

"At least the person they got to play Odin looks good," Visha murmured. "And that wig isn't bad, and besides, Baroness, not every redhead can have such an elegant coiffure as you."

VioletBlood gave a quiet huff, but didn't disagree. "Still," she muttered, "it could be better."

"I mean... The eyes are right, and that gown is correct to the First Epoch... or at least close to it," I said, weakly defending the demon's costume for some reason, trying to keep my voice down as I did so. There was already a vast clowder of broodlings giving us curious and wide-eyed looks, and the last thing I wanted was to draw more attention to myself.

VioletBlood laughed. "Do you believe these kids really think that DarkStar came back just to ask what presents they want?" she asked, but, I noted, in a near whisper to match my own.
"A key part of our faith is the idea that one day she will return," I replied automatically and then winced at my waspish tone and at the ingrained piety being raised by nuns had instilled. At least I was in my Legion blacks; if I had arrived wearing my habit, I surely would be causing a scene by now.

VioletBlood bowed her horns to me. "What I mean is really Saint BloodRuby should be here instead of DarkStar. She's the one who stood vigil for her return, and this holiday is her saint's day."

That was fair. Though something about the admission still left an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

"I think the Saint is supposed to be here," Visha said leaning in to read the sign indicating the entrance to the grotto proper. Added onto the printed sign was a handwritten note apologizing for the lateness of Saint BloodRuby.

"Well, good thing we didn't wait in line," VioletBlood sniffed. "Come, let's get out of the way."

Feeling broodlings' eyes on my back, we followed her deeper into the store. "What's the plan?" I inquired, glancing curiously about. The rest of the building was divided into roughly three sections focusing on decorations, toys, various foods, and inevitably, a wide selection of treats.

"Something to spruce up our billet and the office." VioletBlood's smile radiated confidence. "And, because I know you have a sweet tooth, I have brought you to an establishment full to bursting with all the variety you could possibly desire!"

"Plus there are various gifts that we'll have to buy for our families, friends, and comrades," Visha added more sedately.

"Good idea. With my nieces back on Diyu, I will have to buy my gifts early so they'll arrive in time. Plus your family and your cousin." I nodded to Visha and VioletBlood. A nice thing about being in the Legions, Auxilia, or Fleet was that offworld shipping cost far less subsidized by the service. However, that was contingent on the packages being relatively small – the Fleet was unamused by games such as "mail a landing craft home in ten easy shipments". Also, since said parcels were shipped whenever there was spare cargo space, delivery times were rather sedate.

"Toys then?" Visha suggested.

I stepped to one side and saw that the toy aisle did have a collection of bright little books, plenty of fancy dolls, rows of soft stuffed animals, and lots of other gewgaws. "Good idea."

"Do we need a basket?" Visha looked around to find where they were stored.

"I'll grab a clerk," VioletBlood decided, and before I could say a word was boldly striding off before I could protest. She swept her way around a couple broods. I frowned, noticing that the girls were still pointing at us and whispering amongst themselves.

"Let her have her fun," Visha laughed as we went to the toy aisle.

"It's pretty busy in here," I muttered, thumbing my way through the children's books, looking for something appropriate for my nieces. I also needed to shop for my mothers and my sisters, but that could be later. "I don't want her to bully some poor salesgirl."

Visha noticed my hand skipping right over a handful of books that glorified my adventures. "No good?"

"My reservations aside, the girls already have these. Maybe something from the Silvia Succubus series?" I asked, wincing a bit at the informal name for our species.

"That could be cute. I liked reading those growing up," Visha noted, and tilted her head in thoughtful consideration. Then, her eyes narrowed, just as I felt the hairs on my neck stand on end. Leaking out over the shelf at our backs, we both heard the sound of little voices whispering to each other, awed and not half as quiet as they probably thought.

"Maybe I should have changed," I pouted despite myself. People going out in uniform was hardly rare; Victrix supported a massive military instantiation, after all. DarkStar's Blood, I wasn't even the only uniformed Legionary in the store! I saw one harried mother with the markings of an Armis specialty at the front of the line. The Legionary tanker had visible relief when her girls swarmed the Odin figure.

I was, however ,the only person in the shop with a Preserver Order around her... neck. No wonder I was drawing attention.

Then, the carolers started to sing.

Their massed voices did provide a pleasant background noise as I mulled over books, enough to drown out the surprised mutters of recognition. Visha had wandered off to look at dolls. Those were fine enough gifts, but I was thinking of something a bit more educational for my nieces. Maybe I could find a nice age-appropriate history book?

Something a bit more grisly and bloody, for an older age, would probably appeal more.

I pulled out a young-adult history of the air campaign of the later Zioxan Front on the Third Great House War and frowned as I flipped through it. As such things went, it wasn't objectively terrible. Indeed, my inner cynic even went so far as to note that the jingoism and propaganda were minimized in the writing about as far as I could reasonably expect.

Then, I turned to the chapter on the war-ending Operation Sandalwood. Amidst all the heroic descriptions of the broader strokes, there were vignettes here and there describing lost pilots, shot down over those desolated battlefields. Each was only a few words, but even the shortest was more than IronTalon Cardino would ever get, not that a few words in a cheap book would bring Lady Adriana Melisande any peace of mind. At least she was talking to a Legion Counselor about it. Hopefully, she was getting better use out of their service than I had.

"Tauria, look at this!" Visha said, a strange joy in her voice. I looked up from the book and saw that she was holding a plush doll with a giant head covered in fluffy blonde hair, and poofy white wings protruding from its back. The doll was dressed in a familiar black uniform.

I stared. The soulless sapphire eyes of the doll stared back. Despite my profound hopes, the doll did not change. "Where did you get that?" I asked, and regretted the question as soon as it passed my lips. Stepping to one side, I could see a whole row of me-dolls. There were even some in nun outfits and frilly gowns.

My gut dropped.

"You didn't know?" Visha asked as she gave the big doll a playful squeezing hug.

"The likeness contract I signed doesn't require me to approve every design," I sighed and stepped up to the rows of dolls, even as my stomach did knots in my chest. In addition to the soft ones, there was a selection of more realistically proportioned porcelain-faced dress-up dolls. These came with even more clothing options, including an especially baroque Ritual Plate suit or a full blown ball gown.

"Oh? Well at least you're getting good royalty payments from it," Visha's voice was strangely distant as she picked up one of the nun dolls.

"Less goes into my pocket than you'd think," I absently said. In truth, I received nothing. Those funds went directly to an account established to help my patronage of orphanages, scholarships, and other philanthropic works. Records of which were all kept in meticulous order to strengthen my advocate's negotiating position, as it brought the Church and the Legions to apply their own subtle pressure to the Censor's office.

An Imperial Heroine using her fame to quietly support war-widows and orphans was the sort of pious thing someone in my position was supposed to do. I just wish it hadn't come at the expense of glorifying my name and spreading around my chibi-fied image for all to see simply for doing my job.

IronTalon certainly wouldn't ever see anywhere near the same renown, and she'd sacrificed far more than I had. I shook the thought from my head. Melisandre can carry her honor for her, and I know from personal experience that death need not be a true end.

I gave the dolls another look. Besides… I suppose I can grudgingly admit that the marketing team did good work here.

Visha gave me a warm smile.

"Oh, there's some of Fabia," I said, and picked one up and nodded approvingly at the iridescence on its plush wings. My tail curled when I felt a bit irked that some shippy in a gleaming white uniform was the most popular of the ranks of Imperial Heroines. At least there was a variety to choose from, as in addition to the military dolls were enough to make but the bulk of the Imperial family: Princesses, Daughters, and even the Imperatrix herself.

It was almost sacrilegious to see BlackSky's imperious, but understanding, expression on a soft doll with a far too large of a head crowned in ebony tubular curls. The DarkStar dolls, however, were a bit more questionable on those grounds.

"Are you going to buy that?" VioletBlood asked as she strode up with a basket under one arm. Somehow, it was already half-full with candles, boxes of chocolate, a string of sausages, and various other fripperies and sparkling decorations.

A harried salesgirl with purple hair and little bows tied to her horns plodded in the baroness's footsteps, pushing a cart that spoke mute volumes about VioletBlood's anticipated purchases. For a moment, gold eyes fixed on me, wild and hopeless, before they slid away as she turned to glance back. I followed her gaze, and saw behind her where… an entire horde of broodlings stood in expectant silence. All of them stared up at me with wide eyes.

Their attention then went to the dolls Visha was holding.

Tails quivered as dozens of bright, excited gazes slid back, focusing on me.

"Uh, Ma'am," the salesgirl said, her voice carefully calm as she put the wooden cart between herself and the terror of very excitable broodlings. Flimsy, as far as shields went; she looked as if she'd be more comfortable in a Ritual Plate all her own: for both the protection and the ability to retreat at great speed. The tension grew, as did the sibilant whispering. Taller and further back, their mothers looked imploringly upon us as if we could somehow defuse the situation.

Well… you've been in hairier situations before, Tauria, I told myself. It's like defusing a bomb… or talking down a mob. Well at least they aren't politicians, so I should be able to-

"Yes! Before you is the Jungle Fox! The Saintly Countess! The ace who flies with DarkStar's blessing!" VioletBlood abruptly cried out as she brazenly seized the opportunity, taking two blonde dolls from Visha's arms and tossing them straight into the mob of diminutive demons, like a fishing guide chumming for sharks. The broodlings were excited, and their fresh glee at seeing an Imperial Heroine did seem to displace a disappointment that had been clinging to many. Certainly, there was no sign of reluctance on any of those tiny fanged faces as they squabbled and fought for the dolls.

Tail freezing, I stared in a mix of horror and anger. My lips peeled back, but I barely managed to turn the flashing of fangs into a broad smile as I waved and nodded for Visha to get some more plush dolls, cursing an internal blue streak at the proudly grinning VioletBlood. She just had to use those DarkStar-cursed nicknames! The only thing that kept me from snapping at my fiancee was that she had not mentioned anything from our recent mission.

At least she's learned some manner of discretion.

My Vs each tossed a couple more dolls, enough to at least whet the ravening appetites of the aggressive broodlings, but there were still more covetous children than soft idols in my likeness.

In the face of dwindling rations, I was left with only hard decisions and bad choices.

Squaring my shoulders, I damned the fates and met my enemy head-on.

"Hello, it's lovely to meet you all," I said, summoning every etiquette lesson and scrap of decorum I had been made a subject to, every last dull minute contributing to the horrible smile slashing across my face like deep laceration. I also called upon some of the recent training Invidia had been so "generous" with; broodlings were hardly the biggest risk to looking past my pious mask, but they were very, very energetic.

"Have you all been good girls? I wouldn't want you to hear that you've been making things difficult for your mothers. What would Saint BloodRuby or DarkStar think?"

A few of the little monsters still felt the lashes of guilty consciences, at least, and guiltily lowered their heads and pulled in their wings, reducing the scrum's frenetic energy by a measurable degree. One particularly charitable or guilt-scourged broodling even handed a doll back to the girl whose arms she had stolen it from, an act of near saintly self-denial for one so young and savage.

Nimble of mind and immediately spotting the angle, the salesgirl rapidly overcame her shock and began distributing books and dolls and using the cart as a ready display stand. She gave the age of the audience a critical eye and added some more coloring books, crayons, and, with a bit of thought, went to the end of the aisle to get some chew sticks and other treats.

A deft mind on that clerk, I noted approvingly. She will go far.

With a cheery smile that did not quite reach her eyes, Visha handed me a pair of dolls. Small mercy, these at least had me in my Legion blacks.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause a scene," I told the salesgirl.

She gave a small laugh and looked at me with golden eyes gleaming with the assurance of one who had more than met her daily quota in a quarter of an hour. "Oh, it's no trouble!"

I then noticed more uniformed salesgirls were coming out of the woodwork, and that the crowd of broodlings had doubled. Giving a glassy smile, I tossed out the two soft dolls.

"Still, this is distracting from DarkStar and Odin, and we do have to do our own shopping," I said to the salesgirl, watching with dull eyes and vacant smile as the books and toys were slowly depleted. Most of the broodlings were still lingering, waiting to see what I would do next.

"I can talk to the manager, maybe something can be arranged." Those golden eyes gleamed. Before I could protest, she waved to one of her fellow salesgirls, who scampered off to the back of the store.

"We should get decorations and gifts for the orphanage here," VioletBlood offered into the semi-silence that followed, her tone oh-so-innocent.

"Oh, how lovely!" the clerk clapped her hands, as her bows bobbed about. "You're too kind."

I shot the redhead a hard look, but my fiancee deliberately ignored other people's feelings in the way only a noble could. "You know... I noticed your Saint BloodRuby is tardy. Perhaps, a mere Countess can warm her seat until she arrives?"

"LoveBlood what are you-!" I snarled, but barely managed to start before Visha took my arm.

"She's trying to help," Visha whispered.

"But..."

"And do you really want to disappoint all these little ones?" Her quiet voice crawling into my ears and hooking my attention. It was dastardly, the way her thorns entered so painlessly, sweetened by her shining smile. Invidia herself could not have done a better job, not even with the assistance of a heated poker, a single claw, and a common desk drawer. "Is this not one of the many duties of a legendary Heroine? Is this not one of the responsibilities you swore an oath to?"

"I mean..." I frowned, a pall of disappointment hovering over the broodlings' heads. I suppose they were upset at not having the Saber Saint here to meet.

Visha's smile widened, knowing full well that her barbs had set too deeply for me to offer any resistance to the tug; I felt the relief that she still had me, despite all of my recent... actions.

I felt a bit better until I realized that VioletBlood had gone off to talk to a willowy-imperious woman with pinned up blue hair who had to be the manager. The woman, at least twenty years our senior, looked from me to the broodlings to the depleted store stocks and, with a broad grin, bowed her head in acceptance of VioletBlood's offer.

Shortly after that, I had to help everyone corral the broodlings to the front of the store, leaving the ravaged shelves behind as I took the empty seat between the woman dressed as DarkStar and the older human man.

The redhead in her gown made a point to fuss over me and say how proud she was of me. The crowd ate it up, and I could feel just how happy that recognition made them. Odin's lone eye twinkled as he gave a merry laugh while I used a commanding voice to marshal some order into the unruly mob. At least I did not have to change into some fripperies, though VioletBlood did loan me a pair of gloves.

From there, things turned into a blur of telling stories, giving out toys and treats, and listening to the concerns of a parade of broodlings. Of course, I failed to escape even being roped into taking photos with the broodlings, Odin, and DarkStar, depending on what was desired.

Visha felt the need to intervene to correct my smile to something "less overtly threatening." I had no idea what she could possibly mean.

Seeing a way to spin this dross into gold, I struck out to turn this surprise event into an opportunity for education. Each time a broodling came before me, I tried to dispense wisdom as much as I could while also practicing maintaining my nascent mental barriers. Even I would freely admit it was paranoia to think some telepath would be among these broodlings or their mothers, but it was good practice, and it helped distract me from the eager young faces.

While I did not crush any little girls' dreams of being a pilot, I took pains to point out that there were many ways to do great things beyond just soaring about in Plate. That there was more to life than excitement and derring do, and that many civilian options were perfectly fine and that the military life was not for everybody. I tried not to lecture the broodlings as a whole, but I did have a semi-captive audience, and if I could help them…

Perhaps there won't be so many Melisandres and IronTalons out there… My thoughts drifted again, this time to where it had all started in this life, Perhaps Mother Clementia won't have so lonely little orphans who'd lost their parents to Adventure.

I brushed the melancholy mood aside. It wouldn't do to upset the little one with my own insecurities. There were appearances to keep up, and those appearances were as much a duty and a weight as any other.

Speaking of, the little terrors were unending in their crushing volume; VioletBlood and Visha swapped off which of them stood by my side. Over time, the Baroness had accrued quite the haul of what could only be described as holiday loot. It was during a small break when I was taking a drink of hot chocolate that I realized she had sent a runner to our apartments.

She must have, because soon I saw my maid Reinhild was there in my shadow, helping to organize VioletBlood's vast haul. I made a note to get her something special when she met my gaze and gestured for me to come over, giving me an excuse for a momentary reprieve. Her niece Brabant, a petite white-haired kitsune who helped with the cleaning, was there next to her, pushing a large pram.

Inside, a litter of fox kits were peering over the side and watching me, their ears perked up and their fluffy little tails swishing. After dealing with a parade of broodlings over the last two hours, I thought I had been rendered immune to such adorable displays.

I was wrong.

And now VioletBlood had, after giving them some peppermint sticks, slotted them neatly into the line. My doom by cuteness overload was inevitable.

+++++

In my all too literal lifetimes of experience, waiting rooms did not change. In what must have been some kind of dreadfully mundane universal constant, waiting rooms for medical services across all my lives possessed the same slightly-shabby, insidiously-dull presence.

The trappings may have changed, but the feeling of isolation in wich to ponder one's mortality remained a constant.

At least in this particular waiting room, Doctrix Olivia OakStone made sure that the plants were well-watered, the ticking of the clock was neither irregular nor frustratingly loud, the chairs had a modicum of comfort, and the magazines were not horrifically out of date.

Despite that, the most recent publication on the coffee table before me was last week's issue of Mursam Minutes, a more generalist daily publication for news on this world and this locality of the Spine.

The other broadsheet for perusal was Legionary Letters, a distinctly more... earthy and direct publication that was the Legion's in-house newspaper. However, that was another week older.

The publications ranged from the banal, like Modern Whimsy, Frugal Cooking, and Fashionable Fatale, to ones that I had already read, such as the Journal on Air Combat and Fleet Chronicle.

Unlike many such waiting rooms, there was no receptionist. There was a small desk for someone to sit, but like every other seat, it was empty.

Seeing nothing else to do, I let out a little sigh and picked up the September issue of Fleet Chronicle and gave it a cursory perusal. While not officially published by the Household Fleet, the periodical had many contributors who were reasonably informed.

Happily, I found a surprisingly plain-spoken article about the tradeoffs of going from the Umbra to the smaller Spatha as a ship-to-ship cargo delivery platform. The thrust of the article postulated that for small formations using Kolibri patrol and Venture Scout airships, the hit in cargo capacity was made up for by the increased flexibility. Notably, it continued, smaller VTOL were far easier to land and takeoff on the tiny hangars of the Fleet's smallest airships.

I continued reading my article as the waiting room's inner door at last clicked open. From the corner of my eye, I saw a weary-seeming human in a green Auxilia tunic, with the flashes of a Magus Engineer, trudge across the waiting room, favoring his combat engineer's staff .

A couple minutes later, the inner door opened again.

"Prefect Centurion DiamondDust?" a woman inquired in the smooth Vanis accent of someone who had spent a fair bit of time in Vordurium.

Doctrix Olivia OakStone had golden hair pulled into a prim bun set with pins denoting her Legionary status. Her deep purple skin and pale green eyes complemented her ash-grey jacket, silver-embroidered bodice, and matching glossy leather skirt,

"Yes," I stood and put the magazine back onto the table.

"If it's not too much trouble, please come this way," she bowed her straight, pale horns at me in a formal greeting.

I followed her into her office, which was infused with a solid, thoroughly utilitarian air. There was a plain, sturdy desk with a tasteful drift of her notes across the leather writing pad, standing squarely before a set of filing cabinets and a single shelf heaving with well-thumbed reference texts. Despite the flowers in their pots by the window and paintings of cheery landscapes hanging from the walls, this was the workplace of a sober professional.

Instead of gesturing for me to lay on the couch on the far side of the room, Dr. OakStone motioned to one of the leather chairs in front of her desk. I appreciated that there was no pretense with her, there was no sitting around a coffee table with wine and pretending we were friends commiserating over the events.

She was a medical professional, and I was her patient. This was no different than having my bones X-rayed to make sure nothing was broken. Or in the case of our species, checking that nothing had set and healed incorrectly.

Taking my seat, I frowned at that analogy; badly healed bones were a known quantity, of course, but relatively rare to the point of quasi-obscurity, saved for situations of mass trauma and a lack of medical care. One advantage of our creation was that, given the chance, we could heal from most all injuries without any physical flaw or scarring. It was almost enough to make one think a Diyu Demon truly did live by the phrase "anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger".

The key word being, of course, "physical". There were a variety of mental maladies and disabilities that our species could be afflicted by and trauma was the main, but not only, cause of them.

The point where Dr OakStone came in was when it became necessary to inquire into the healing of that other sort of wound.

"I suppose you'd want to ask about your subordinates?" the older woman said as she adjusted her wings to settle into her chair. This was part of our little ritual.

"Without violating any of your oaths," I assured, playing my part.

Picking up a set of steel-framed glasses off her desk, the woman slipped them on. They shimmered slightly as her gaze went far away for a brief moment. "Ten days ago was, for many, the first mission they participated in with casualties, unrecoverable casualties, sustained, they are doing quite well. That considered, they're handling the strain well."

I nodded. My senior pilots like GreyDawn and Charity had been Legionary Fliers long enough to have seen... many comrades die. Even Octavia, who was not that much older than Visha, had lost friends. Enough to build calluses on certain contact-points of the soul, I hoped. "I have two points of concern."

"Your greenhorns in Second Flight, and IronTalon's friends in Third," OakStone reasoned, her neutral tone betraying no similar concerns, but only an acknowledgment of the worries she knew troubled me.

"Yes," I admitted. "But, I'm wondering if by focusing on the obvious ones, maybe I've missed those suffering in silence."

"Your concern is admirable," OakStone smiled. "But I've read your evaluation reports, Tauria. You are a very thorough young woman."

Glancing at her pale green eyes, I could feel a slight buzz along my horns. The woman wasn't prying. The training the Lady Legate and Invidia had oh-so-generously sponsored me for left me well aware of that. On the one wing, it was good to have some counter-psionics training. On the other wing, that was a clear sign CSR intended for me to retain yet more secrets in the future. Furthering my paranoia spiral was the lingering thought wondering if the instructors were purposely learning my mental backdoors so that they, or some other tentacle of the CSR, could peer into my mind at their leisure.

It could be worse. The training wasn't extensive enough for specialist lessons that might truly open holes, there simply hadn't been time for it. Not with the encounter with the Fae knocking on our door. Unless, of course, that had all been planned from the start and- I shook my head. That way lay madness.

In all probability, things were nowhere near so convoluted. Someone in the bowels of the CSR, likely Invidia, had suspected I was being prepared for further advancement, and, as Tribunes were given all sorts of supplemental training, had penciled me in for anti-psionics training at some point in the future. Such arrangements were far from unheard of – I would be far from the first connected Legionary Flier CSR helped rise in ranks – and nor was it at all unheard of for an evolving situation to rapidly move some key piece of training up in the priority queue. Still, unless the Doctrix was far more skilled in the mental arts, she wasn't trying to rifle through my mind.

However, her ivory-colored horns were doing their best to read every scrap of emotional emissions I was broadcasting. I reminded myself that there was no need for anxiety, that I had no need to quail before her regard. This appointment was, at its heart, fundamentally no different from any other medical examination.

"I just don't want to let them down." I exhaled and kicked my legs, feet tapping the desk. "You know, any more. I couldn't bring everyone back."

"You did better than any other Squadron leader," OakStone noted, her clinical tone contrasting with a compassionate emotional pulse. "While I have not been told the details of your mission, I can count the number of patients we need to recertify for flight duty without difficulty, and can use an org chart with equal ease."

I squeezed my hands. And there it was. This prim, professional woman could, with a simple form, ground me or my Vs. Oh, I could lodge an appeal, if matters progressed that far. It wouldn't even be a particularly tricky thorn to pluck, particularly since many such orders could be lifted with a successful recertification, unsuccessful appeals be damned. After all, the Imperatrix was loath to permanently lose a pilot.

But that sort of gamble could backfire, should the appeal be dismissed with prejudice. While the Imperatrix might loathe the loss of an otherwise functional pilot, she would not extend the privilege of further service on her behalf to a Legionary who presented a real and persistent danger to herself or to her comrades. And the doctrix had more severe things she could recommend, beyond a disbarring of my certification. A missio causaria would require more effort on her part and would entail the filing of far more paperwork, but she could start a process that would end with my service to the Imperatrix cut unceremoniously and permanently short. While no official stigmas were attached to a medical discharge, I knew it would always be a cloud over my head and a blemish on my record in the eyes of all who knew what to look for. A symbol of a weakness so profound that I had been cut from a queen of the skies to a cracked menace at its mere identification.

Studying me, OakStone picked up a clipboard, leaned back, and jotted down a few notes.

I tried to reign in my imagination; this was not a good place for my mind to wander, but... would it be so bad to find an early discharge, even one leaving the oily soot of madness smeared across my service jacket? Given my history, maybe I could become a country noble, could do normal teenage things, whatever those might be. I could work on furthering my education, tend to my county, and pass justice on my subjects, ending my absenteeism at last. Would it be so bad? I had always wanted that quiet retirement.

But... I'd be leaving my Vs behind.

"I have a daughter your age, you know. She's a big fan," OakStone said, her voice soft. "Naturally, she doesn't know you're one of my patients."

Pondering her seeming non-sequitur, I thought back to VioletBlood's little surprise a few days past. "If you want, I could sign something. You could say you got it from Quirinus or..." I shook my head. Distraction. "Why did you bring this up?"

"It's not my place to criticize the Pilot Cadet Program, though I am happy that girls in your situation are... rare." She glanced at the small BlackSkyvian banner hanging on one wall. "You're feeling guilt for your actions out there. You blame yourself. But a lot of people look up to you."

"I was in command. Thus I am responsible. And I'm not feeling-" I cut myself off. Was I really trying to deny my feelings to someone reading them? I tried to follow it up with something better, but the words got caught in my throat.

"Of course you feel guilt, Tauria. You're not some monster lacking empathy. People you cared about were hurt. Some died. You yourself were even shot down." She gave me a sharp look over her glasses. "Frankly, I would be more worried about you if you didn't show any apparent trauma after your latest mission. Absence of symptoms does not, after all, mean an absence of injury. And a complete lack of empathy would be a grievous injury indeed. Potentially even career ending."

I took a breath and tried to relax my wings. I could feel my feathers ruffling up. It did not help that my Zephyr were picking up my agitation. "I'm handling it," I firmly said, and hoped that my declaration didn't sound overly stressed.

"You do seem better than you were last week, and even then you were composed," OakStone allowed as she flickered through the images her glasses were displaying. "Oh yes, you didn't call in, so no negative effects to the Benzodril?"

"Just a bit of dry mouth after taking it, just like you warned." I waved off before putting my hands on my knees. "It did settle my dreams."

My mind stuttered back to painful memories. The taste of my own blood and someone else's flesh in my mouth. The screaming of suit alarms. Golden beams across an azure sky. Looking out at a spinning night sky through a cracked faceplate. Feeling warm blood on my claws and my ears ringing from explosion after explosion.

Most of my dreams had a common theme. The worst part was that not all of them were nightmares. Oh sure, I woke up with a scream in my throat and rage or terror in my pounding chest some nights. But others? I rose to find a smile on my lips.

"The pills didn't do anything to settle Visha though. She still kicks and sleep-punches, and VioletBlood's snores are as loud as ever."

"Well, their dosage is different." The dark-skinned woman smiled as she made notes. "Good, I'm glad to hear that none of you are having any negative effects. We'll give it another week and see if we can give you something lighter."

I nodded.

"Anything you'd like to tell me about your Squadron? Not just your pilots but your Ritualista too."

"I'm not sure anything can rattle Gibbs," I said, laughing despite myself. "She runs a tight ship."

OakStone let the following silence grow for a moment. "But?"

I paused, wondering if it was really a good idea to bring it up. "It's not her, but some of the other Ritualista are spreading this idea… I'm certain that Melisande and Lucia are the ones responsible. I'm surprised it hasn't made it to you yet, in some session or another."

OakStone tilted her head slightly, and for a moment, I wondered who would win if she gambled against GreyDawn, Visha, or even Lucia.

"Some of, DarkStar's Blood, maybe all of, Flight Three's Ritualista want to retire Suit Number Eleven. That is, just skip over it and go straight to Thirteen on the maintenance logs and other Squadron reports."

"Ah. That's IronTalon's number. And you object?" OakStone asked, her voice dripping with the gentle kindness of a person about to tell a child that nothing more could be done for a beloved pet.

I stretched my legs but found them bumping against the desk, so I pulled them up so I could flex my ankles... "It's not that I don't respect her memory, or that I am willfully ignoring the potential morale implications. I know not to give an order that won't be followed. If I have to, I will turn a blind eye. I could have Visha give the bad news to the girls but..."

"But?"

"I don't want to make her do that. Yes, unit discipline is part of being an executive officer, but some things shouldn't be delegated. I can let being undermined slide, at least in this way, at least this once. I can even ignore that the other Prefect Centurions aren't retiring any of their Squadron's numbers."

OakStone gave a sad look, but I could tell that it wasn't prompted by me or by any of my actions. "So, with all of that said… Why do you object?" she repeated the question.

"As their commander I have to think about the long term implications," I stated flatly.

"Ah."

"It's not like that!" I snapped, bristling at that single, neutral word.

Calm down.

Taking a deep breath, I draped my arms over my knees as my tail curled behind me. I could feel the spirits swirling around me, looking for whatever threat had gotten me so defensive.

"I have to make these decisions," I began, speaking slowly, carefully, and without any hint of agitation. "I'm responsible. I have to look past the next mission and the mission after that. If we retire a suit number every time someone dies, then what happens after we lose another pilot? And after the next one? And the next?

"I have seventeen years left in the Legions. And if we are very generous and assume current rates hold, that means that my Squadron will be compelled to retire seven numbers by the time I'm out." I lowered my head to my knees. "An utter farce."

Putting her clipboard down, OakStone steepled her fingers. "That is not an unreasonable concern."

I looked up, surprised by the apparent vote of confidence. "Yes, but I can't just say that to my pilots. That'll damage morale worse than telling them they can't retire IronTalon's number."

"Oh, I'm sorry but we can't retire IronTalon's number because I don't want to make a habit of it when the rest of us keep dying," I thought bitterly, acting that particular line's delivery out in my head to a mutely dismayed illusory audience. I'm sure that'll go over well.

"In that case, what is your plan, Tauria?"

"Other than redoubling their training?" I sighed as I lifted my head and rolled my shoulders. "I'll have to play it by ear and hope I come up with a solution by the... next time I take casualties."

Oakstone made a thoughtful noise, as if assuming I was discounting the possibility that I could die. "I do wish there was more I could do for you." The woman smiled as she murmured her platitude, setting my horns tingling.

"You've done more than enough," I assured her, the false joviality hopefully obscuring the point I'd failed to entirely draw from my tone.

The Doctrix had access to more than just pharmacological treatments, after all, and broad latitude to pursue actions she could reasonably argue advanced the Legion's mission. Some of those actions required more paperwork and authorization to approve, of course, more than just the prognosis of a single doctor, but in cases of particular concern, there were... mental means of correction. Including many options that a mother could resort to in the course of rearing an incorrigible or troubled broodling. Use of those corrective means on an adult, however, even an adult only named as such by legal technicality in my case, would also require at least nominal consent on the patient's part.

I doubted that Dr. OakStone would advocate using psionics, Diyu magic, or whatever other psychic scalpels rested at her disposal to alter the minds of my pilots to remove their trauma which was... some comfort.

Or, at the very least, she wouldn't be so eager to conduct such interventions that I'd have to fight to keep the figurative icepick out of her hand.

"You do have quite a bit piled up on your plate," she sympathized, either a complete non sequitur to my current line of thought, or perhaps the first words of the formula that would see my career shredded and my liberty abruptly restricted to the gilded cage of a mental ward if I responded unwisely to her fishing.

"Nothing that I cannot handle," I declared flatly; my tail curled around my legs. "Sure, we might have kicked off the Fourth Great House War, but I heard Alecto is trying to mediate things."

OakeStone only gave me a thin mirthless smile at that. "How were the memorial services?"

"They were..." Resisting the urge to put my head in my hands, I leaned back. Seven banner-draped caskets came to mind. "Very respectful I hope they brought closure."

"What did it do for you?"

"I was too focused on keeping track of the censer and reliquary box," I stated, my horns feeling cold. I had tried to decline taking any special role in the ceremony. DarkStar's Blood, it was all I could do to attend in uniform instead of dressed as a Sister!

Making a couple notes as she studied me, OakStone's seeming sympathy grew. Of course, if I was a psychotherapist who specialized in the treatment of highly dangerous and potentially fractured military personnel, I would make great efforts to divorce any emotional emissions, facial expressions, or eye movements away from my actual thoughts or feelings at earliest convenience. "Did it help?"

"I suppose," I conceded, just a bit reluctantly. "My pilots seemed to be less distant in the days afterward. At least until Lucia had to write her letter to IronTalon's family." My own correspondence had proven was... challenging. What could I say? The secrecy removed all pretense. I could not tell any story of glory or try to give meaning to loss. All I could say was that their daughter won't be coming home.

"And how did that go?"

"It went. Apparently, some Volantes Legate up on Lantia already informed her family; adopted, not that that makes a difference. The letters are just a part of it." Teleport Gateways meant that major facilities had rapid lines of communication, at least for critical correspondence.

OakStone made a note. "And how have the debriefs been going?"

"Well enough," I wearily demurred, and was happy when the Doc declined to make me recount everything that had happened in excruciating detail, beat by beat. Security issues aside, I was eternally loath to repeat myself.

Especially considering how the formal debriefs had at least the secondary purpose of cultivating institutional knowledge. Our personal recollections, along with suit telemetry where available, other transcripts, and scrying intake, were all collated to log what happened. And there was much to learn, not just for air and ground combat but, in my case, to help give more data for our Pilot Survival and Evasion courses. Although, I suspected my experiences might be more of a cautionary example.

Simply repeating myself yet again in the supposed privacy of this office offered no such opportunities for organizational development.

"This was the closest you came to death, at least in the last few years," OakStone observed. "And yet you seem quite composed, especially for someone your age."

"Thank you?" I frowned. That sounded good, but my tail straightened in worry.

"It helps that you're not afraid of death."

I blinked. Where did she get that from? Yes, given that I had died twice I had some... assumptions as to what would happen if I died for a third time. But there was no way she would know that. Right?

"If I die, I'd let people down," I countered absently.

OakStone smiled. "Of course you care. You are afraid of failing your special people, friends, and comrades. And a corresponding fear of being without them."

"I suppose so. It's hard not to," I carefully replied, shoulders squared.

"Your faith is quite unshakable," OakStone smiled.

"No more than anyone else's," I eyed her. The doctrix was not one to give idle compliments. I learned to trust that much from her, praise from her had to be earned. What was her angle? Did she think I wasn't afraid of death due to religion?

Making a note, the doctrix thoughtfully adjusted her glasses.

"I mean it's not anything special," I covered. "It's just how I was raised."

She held up a hand in acquiescence. "It's not a critique, Tauria. Faith works differently for all of us and if you get strength from yours that is a good thing."

It's not complicated, I huffed internally, it's just... I may not know exactly where I'll go after dying, but I know for a fact I have nothing to fear. Not anymore.

The fluttering feeling ruffled over my hair and wings as OakStone studied me. Her expression softened. "I was a medic in the Third Great House War. You are right, people of your moral caliber aren't rare in the Legions. However- " she smiled. "The ones that truly excelled took the long term consequences of their actions into account. And your own mix of faith and prudence will serve you well, DarkStar allowing."

I wanted to pout; I wanted to smile. Looking over Doc OakStone, by my rough estimate, she could be in her sixties; she had the eyes for it. She certainly carried herself as a mature professional with a few decades in her practice. And she did not move with the effortlessly held power of a true Elder Demoness.

"I'm just doing my part," I deflected, trying to bury my growing anxiety. What was wrong with me? I could play the role of the Imperial Heroine to a terror of broodlings or to a pair of blood-thirsty fae, but a doctor is able to see past my mask?

"You are. Some may say you've done your part, but... I understand survivor's guilt." OakStone glanced out the window to look at the parking lot full of cargo trucks, the fence beyond that, and finally, the rest of the city around the base.

"I mean..." My tail flicked with agitation. "I guess you're right in that it's not dying itself that worries me."

"It is good that you have people who care for you. Did you get your holiday shopping done?" OakStone asked, once again abruptly changing topics. No doubt it was some strategy to get me off balance to gauge my reaction.

"Mostly." I shifted, not entirely comfortable with how well it was working. I tried to focus on the fact that it was all for professional purposes. "Do I have to go over the whole... thing?"

"You don't have to. Did anything stand out?" OakStone asked.

"It was fine," I stated, my wings fluttering as my tail curled. "I'm used to cheering up eager broodlings. It made their day and they'll treasure that memory."

"But?"

"I…" I went still, a chill in my bones as I made sure to pick my next words very, very carefully, "I'm sure in a few years some of them will do their part for House and Imperatrix."

The older woman chuckled. "Oh, so cautious. Do not fret. I know the value of propaganda. I may not agree, but at least with you it is not so repugnant."

I held my tongue. Elevating a child to an Imperial Heroine for what I did over Narvos was something many could call dubious. That my situation was considered merely "not so repugnant" was… not something I knew what to make of.

"This won't be your first holiday season away from home," OakStone noted, shifting to a safer topic.

"It's not," I nodded, relieved to be slipping into calmer waters. "I think I've spent more Saber's Watches and Feasts of DarkStar in some stinking FOB than at home."

"It's still hard for you."

So much for calmer waters… I grumbled to myself internally. I can't really complain, it is quite literally her business to ask these kinds of questions, and it's hardly unreasonable for the Legion to be worried about their murderous little investments snapping at the worst moment.

That doesn't mean I have to enjoy being pried open and picked apart.

Carefully stretching my legs to not hit the desk, I exhaled, there was no use in denying it. "I mean, yes. Things are different now, I'm not alone." I winced. Sloppy! I was being too unguarded. "That is, I always had my mothers but I wasn't adopted until after... well Narvos. And I'm now engaged."

"You've done a very good job at building connections," OakStone observed, her tone clinical as if she were recording my height or weight, which was preferable to being patronizing.

"It just happened," I deflected.

"You are a very reserved and humble young woman." OakStone sifted in her chair.

I sensed the other hoof was about to drop. "But?"

She put her clipboard down on her desk. "You have accumulated a lot of trauma."

Obviously. I've had two lives of war and a pair of traumatic deaths, I managed not to snort. "I'm not surprised. Will... will this be a problem?"

"Your self control is admirable, but there is the question if you are compartmentalizing or suppressing." OakStone glanced at her clipboard. "The latter is a greater problem."

"Are you worried I'm bottling things up? I'm not that secretive." I could immediately tell she saw through the statement even if it was mostly true.

The Doctrix chuckled. "Tauria, we know that's a lie. You're a Legionary Flier who just came back sponsored by some questionable... associates. Of course you're keeping secrets."

"Only the ones I must," My tone was cold. She knew as well as I did, that there were some questions she couldn't ask, not unless she got CSR's approval to get access.

"Of course." OakStone agreed, holding up a hand. "But what about your Vs? Are even they fully aware of what you're going through?"

"They've been alongside me, ever since the start. Of course they know!"

One of them has been with me since even before this start. She knows more than most could imagine, I thought.

Yet, traitorously, my mind couldn't help but remind me that I still hadn't told Visha everything. And what did it say that I allowed one of my Vs to know half my secrets, while I let my own fiancee think herself content only scratching the surface? Didn't VioletBlood deserve the truth too? She might be a bloody-handed stubborn noble, but she had managed to keep up every step of the way.

"You're there for them, and they're there for you," the Doctrix said.

"I don't want to be a burden for them, but..." I rubbed my arms as my wings drooped. "Yes."

After giving me a critical look, OakStone nodded. "That's very good."

"I think that's why VioletBlood has me doing 'Heroine Countess' stuff," I admitted.

I could just hear my fiancee's smug voice going, "I try my best; I know it's still hard for you."

"She does care for you a lot, which is good for her."

"Yeah, she's a war orphan too."

"You're fortunate to have her, and Victorious."

"I am..." I was struck by a profound melancholy. "For as long as I have them."

OakStone eased into her sympathetic posture. "It is a risk. And I can say without fear of violating confidentiality that both reciprocate such feelings."

"Well, VioletBlood does wear her heart on her sleeve," I chuckled. "But the fear of loss..."

"Quite," OakStone idly flipped through the notes on her display. "Neither of your Vs wants to lose you. Although one is... better at hiding the raw intensity of such emotions than the other."

"Well, she is a deft hand at cards," I admitted.

"So I've been told. Victorious is a devoted woman of many talents." Oakstone's tone indicated she had more thoughts about Visha, but her oaths kept her from fully expressing them.

"She is, and-" I exhaled. "You can see my concerns, given both she and LoveBlood are...:

"Serving in the same unit alongside you?" OakStone asked with the barest hint of distaste.

It seemed the good doctrix had reservations about the rather permissive rules regarding fraternization. Intellectually, I could agree with the concerns that having a... person you were very close to dying next to you would have. But given our species'... foibles, as my own experience showed, such relations seemed almost inevitable.

"And soon it might be a much larger risk," I murmured, pulling out the locket my mother gave me, my stomach turning cold as my tail curled.

"Ah yes, the rumors of a looming war with Elena."

"We just talked about the numbers," I said, my voice leaden. This was far from the steely, confident Imperial Heroine I pretended to be. Despite how I was clasping my fingers over my mother's locket, I wasn't even bothering with my pious mask.

"Losing half your Squadron before your term is up. Or your Vs's terms are up," OakStone added.

I lowered my head onto my fingers. "I will do everything in my power for them, for everyone," I swore, my will adamant as my wings fluttered and tingled. "By DarkStar's grace, if I can give VioletBlood a family and continue to pull Visha through hell, I shall."

I had spent too long being alone. And one day that might be my fate, to be the only pilot to return to the Ritual Plate maintenance bay, but I had beaten fate before. Being X had died by my hands. I had beaten the odds before; I had seen Visha through the other side of it. I would do it again.

I felt warmth between my hands as silver light began to escape between my fingers. I swallowed, realizing that it was not embarrassment that was heating my ears but a discharge of my capacitor earrings.

"Um... Countess?" OakStone asked, a ghost of awe in her voice.

"It's not faith! It's just my magic!" I assured as I held up the locket with its DarkStar symbol on it. And at that moment, my Zephyr decided to be helpful and push the locket up so that it floated on a slack chain before slipping out of my fingers and over to the doctrix. "And air spirits!"

"Yes, this is a very emotional moment," she allowed as she opened the offered locket and smiled at the tiny pictures inside.

"Exactly! And don't read too much into those earrings! Yes they're relics the church loaned me, but they're full of magical energy..."

"All very logical, but what about your wings?" OakStone asked.

+++++

Sometimes familiarity can be a comfort. In this case, as once again, a commanding officer had invited me to dine with her, the guidepost of experience provided just enough structure to calm my nerves. I was further calmed by the realization that I would not be attending this dinner alone; the four other Squadron commanders had also been invited to the same Paymonish restaurant Tribune Quirinus had picked months ago when this Demi-Wing had first been formed.

Stepping into an awning over the restaurant's entrance, I discreetly used my Zephyr to dry off my feathers. Not all of my etiquette lessons had been pointless tedium – some actually had practical applications. Besides, shaking one's wings as soon as you got out of the rain was the kind of clumsy mess-making reserved for rambunctious broodlings, not an officer with any self respect.

I rolled my shoulders and strolled up to the front door, the twin slabs of carved oak parting ways before I could even begin to knock. As the hostess quietly took my overcoat, I found myself thankful for the relative informality that allowed me to wear my Legion Blacks. While I had a mess dress uniform that VioletBlood assured me I cut quite the imposing figure in, I personally preferred the less complicated Blacks.

For all that, it was nice to have a dress uniform that was reasonably practical. It was also more convenient to be able to purchase uniforms in my size instead of requiring bespoke martial formalwear. Legion Blacks were flexible and, despite protests from some of my pilots, comfortable uniforms that could suit a variety of social situations. Situations like a modestly upscale restaurant just outside of downtown Victrix.

As I was led across an atrium deeper into the restaurant, a woman out on a covered portico spotted me. Her own Zephyr were playing in the cloud of blue smoke rising around her, making intricate wisps and whorls.

To the doubtless disappointment of the air spirits, she pinched the end of her cigarillo, and came inside. I gave her a thankful nod as both our Zephyr dissipated the woody, slightly cinnamon-smelling smoke. Such sins were not exactly frowned on among our kind, but our sensitive noses did result in the more aromatic vices being handled with a bit more care.

"Evening," Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang greeted, bowing her horns to me.

I returned the gesture to the iridescently blue-winged commander of Fourth Squadron. "A pleasure. You hear any scuttlebutt about tonight?" I asked as we fell into pace behind the hostess.

Fabia shook her head. "Nothing from the drones in staffing, which might be a good thing. Your contacts in logistics hear anything?"

Sighing, I let my splayed, empty hands provide my answer.

Fabia gave me a half amused, half resigned, grunt. "And any news on your replacement suit?"

I shrugged helplessly. "It's in process."

"Not going with a suit from the reserve crypts at the depot here?" A playful smile lit up her features. "Something fresh and new from those clever boffins at MuArc for the courageous Countess?"

I made a face at that, waving my hand like I was sweeping away a bad smell, "Nothing so grandiose, I assure you."

"Well, we can't all be content with the robust and reliable products from IBF's Tactical Aviation Division." Fabia managed to point out with a mostly straight face.

"Careful," I said, with a grin of my own teasing it's way onto my face, "if word gets back to Imperial Blimp and Freight that you took one of their suits into ground combat they'll add that to their brochures."

Sighing, Fabia turned thoughtful. "Still... that you're not in a rush to grab a suit, any rated suit, and launch yourself back into the skies... Well, that does have its ownimplications."

"I only just regained my flight cert," I pointed out.

"Congratulations," Fabia nodded to me. "So... if we're not getting any replacement Pilots or Ritualista, and we're not getting a larger stockpile of spare parts..." The woman frowned at her cigarillo before tucking it into her sash.

"Then we're either not deploying anytime soon, or we're being deployed as is," I replied, finishing for her. "Hopefully the latter option is not the case for this gathering."

Fabia's frown grew as she looked around the carved wooden accents, wall-hangings, and delicate painted screens of the restaurant. The artistic flourishes were far from garish, but their understated elegance was still a sign of opulence, even for a major colony. Despite their tasteful grandeur, her brow remained troubled as a waitress wended her way through the tables to collect us up and guide us towards the back of the hall.

Soon we were ushered into a very familiar yet very tastefully-decorated private room. Though a metallic wind chime now hung above a screen painted in a seaside landscape. Though Caenis and JadeTalon were already there, drinks in hand, our commander was nowhere to be found. Caenis seemed stoic, but JadeTalon seemed more morose.

Caenis's golden eyes met mine. "Quirinus just stepped out, but she'll be back"

I noted that there was a third glass at the table containing a deep amber liquid.

Fabia lightly smiled. "Understandable."

"Can I get you some refreshments?" the hostess asked.

"May I have some tea?" I asked.

"I'll have some plum wine," Fabia asked.

The hostess bowed and left the four of us. Fabia gave me a look, and we took our seats.

"Did the Tribune get a call?" I asked.

A small grin cracked JadeTalon's sober demeanor. "Of nature? Maybe," she gave a bitter laugh.

"She'll be back from powdering her nose," Caenis added.

"Or sharpening her horns. How is everyone?" Fabia asked as she sat down.

JadeTalon stared into the bottom of her glass as if it held any answers, idly swirling the chartreuse like it would provide divination. Looking at the grief on her youthful face, it seemed another reminder of the odd kind of curse laid upon our kind. For all her ageless vitality and physical beauty, no one could ever say that war had left her unscarred. The black-haired, jade-horned woman sighed. "I got the transfer list finalized. On the bright side... it's easier to slot in a replacement Flight than to do it piecemeal," she drawled out, her mild Luxon accent sharpening.

I tried not to wince. Second Squadron had taken some of the worst casualties over Harp's World. I couldn't say that the final butcher's bill was all that surprising, but that didn't make it any kinder.

The door opened, and Quirinus strode in with a waitress at her heel.

We stood and saluted. Junior Tribune Artemis Quirinus returned the gesture fingers to her neck. "That's enough of that," she waved off and stepped aside so the waitress could give Fabia and I our drinks and then pass out menus.

The green-haired officer with the star tattoos on her crimson cheeks sat down at the head of the table. "Let's order a few things first, my treat." She cut the air with the side of her hand to forestall any protest. "I insist."

There were some pro forma protests, but given how we all were already looking through the menus, those were merely part of the social dance we played.

As I went over the page of various and frankly decadent one-pot recipes, I made a note to see if this restaurant was still taking reservations for Saber's Watch. Visha had grown up not too far from Paymon, at least in this life, and I knew the right dish could tempt VioletBlood.

I decided to show some restraint and simply go with a shrimp soup with a savory broth and... maybe a fillet of mountain perch. I felt some reassurance in my choices as I saw the others, despite earlier protests, indulging a bit themselves.

Which I supposed was fitting, Quirinus was much a temptress as the rest of us. Besides, the protests had been more out of a general sense of cultural propriety than any kind of real restraint on our part. Never let it be said that a demon didn't have an appetite. Soon, we had ordered, and the room was just the five of us again as the hostess backed her way out, closing the door behind her.

"Don't worry, nothing tonight is all that sensitive. And tonight won't be like the last time we ate here," our Tribune assured as she took out a tuning fork. After starting the baffling field, she sipped from a tiny, fluted glass no wider than her thumb, and after finding its contents good, lifted it high. "To absent comrades."

We returned the toast. I noticed JadeTalon's motions were relatively stiff, and she was already on her second drink. Tail flicking, Caenis was also watching her, inscrutable behind her cool mask.

"I am pleased to announce that everyone has finished their medical evaluations, and that I have signed the last transfer papers for our Legionary Flies and Ritualista." The room fell silent after Quirinus's declaration.

I looked around the room wondering who would speak first. As the Tribune's executive officer, Caenis was too much of Quirinus's woman to take that line, and JadeTalon seemed to be in no mood to play. The silence was undercut by the metal tines of the wind chime gently ringing.

I glanced at Fabia and gave a tiny shrug as if to point out that I was as much the Tribune's protégée. The blue-winged woman sighed, resignation heavy on her shoulders. "What's the damage, Ma'am?"

"Among the Fliers, the medical and transfer requests add up to half a dozen, that's in addition to the killed in action." Quirinus dipped her head, "But then, we were all there for caskets' sendoff; you all know the blood-price tendered."

I couldn't help but wince, though my reaction wasn't near as great as some of the others. JadeTalon was the worst off, but even Fabia wasn't spared. I knew that Fourth Squadron, like mine, had lost only one pilot over Harp's World. I suppose Fabia had more of her Fliers transfer out.

The awkward silence between us drew out.

Fabia looked between us all and shrugged. "One of each: killed, medical, transfer."

"I had one transfer," Caenis admitted. We all knew she had three pilots killed so I suppose it was a blessing she retained almost all of her survivors.

"Three, in addition to the two KIA," JadeTalon sighed.

The other Squadron Commanders then gave me looks that bore the tracery of jealousy. They could count, between their three Squadrons was every loss the Demi-Wing had, IronTalon excepted. I sipped my tea, trying to not feel so guilty. It wasn't my fault my Squadron was full of bloodthirsty madwomen.

"It was a hard mission but we all did our bit," I said, the platitude slipping past my lips as rehearsed and false as if I were doing a propaganda reel.

The unimpressed looks of my fellow commanders told me exactly how well it had landed.

"Honestly, I haven't the foggiest idea," I half sighed, half groaned, and shrugged helplessly to further underline my incomprehension. "I'm surprised my noble brat rookies still have enough stars in their eyes to keep at it; I'm almost as surprised that no one ended up grounded, even temporarily."

"Could be their pride," Caenis ventured. "Too stubborn to back down when good sense says otherwise."

"Could be..." I allowed. "Noble brats can be headstrong fools like that."

A sudden cough escaped Quirinus's throat, and she took a drink of water before looking around the table. After getting nods from Fabia and JadeTalon she cleared her throat. "Nearly all of the transfers were Sarpedona pilots asking to be put into a conventional Infantry Legion."

"The supportive read is that they got a taste of protecting hoof-sluggers on Harp's World and want to focus on that skill," Fabia stated before nodding to JadeTalon. "Or want to go back to that more straightforward mission."
So the transfers were more driven by the more experienced pilots of Second Squadron as opposed to the greenhorn Fliers in Fourth, I studied JadeTalon's melancholy. But despite her being a greenhorn to command, the higher losses were not her fault. Lady Fate and Dame Luck were capricious bitches, as ever.

"None of you should feel guilty for this," Caenis assured us. While most of her attention was on JadeTalon, the Midlands officer was also clearly trying to reassure me.

Was it due to our ages? JadeTalon was young to command an RP Squadron, but not abnormally so, unlike myself.

There was a polite knock, and Quirinus welcomed in a pair of waitresses. The smell of the food did lift our spirits. Figuratively and literally, as I could sense our Zephyr swirling around the room, investigating the new aromas wafting off the plates and bowls.

My tea was refreshed with a new little porcelain pot, as well as drinks and water for the others. There were a few minutes of companionable silence as we ate. Many of our dishes were garnished with tiny flags on toothpicks, though my plate had a full blown miniscule sparkly pinwheel surmounting my salad. Erasing any doubt that the staff were aware of our companions was that they placed a small dish of sweet incense over a burner on a sideboard.

The simple joy at unexpected entertainment was a comfort.

"I do have a few pieces of good news," Quirinus announced, putting down her fork beside the bowl of a steamed then fried rice dish that had a blend of vegetables and spiced cuts of lamb

Apprehension filled the room as all our tails stilled. We all knew that, often in the Legions, "good news" was as such only in the eye of the beholder, who could reliably be counted upon to number among the Brass Horns and other senior officers.

Chuckling, Quirinus restarted the tuning fork's baffling vibrations. "I mean actual good news. When it comes to Ritualista our staffing issues are less acute. Yes, we received some turnover among our maintainers, but not above the expected percent."

I nodded along with the others. My Squadron's Ritualista had sustained only a handful of transfers, which out of a staff of fifty was quite manageable. It was good that, at least in this respect, my unit was typical. It also helped that our Ritualista had not taken any casualties during the mission, an outcome far from guaranteed in any frontline support unit.

"It is one less thing for us to worry about," Quirinus agreed.

"What of our Fleet Pilot friends?" JadeTalon asked.

A sense of loss radiated from Tribune Artemis Quirinus before she could control it. I knew she had been close to Lady Primus Felicity IvoryQuiver, the pilot who used Svalinna warding suit to save the lives of many of my Squadron. I still remembered the moment she sacrificed herself to cover us from the onslaught of Elenese lance fire. A brilliant star in the early morning skies before several more fell to earth.

"Or the ground team, or the Tarantula Hawk's crew?" Fabia added, sending a sympathetic pulse.

Gathering herself, Quirinus ate a bit more of her meal. "All in all, the shippies are doing well enough. They also have a larger pool of personnel to draw replacements from. Still, our ride will be spending a bit of time in drydock with some minor maintenance on their oh-so-special systems. As for the ground team..." The Tribune shrugged. "Missions like this are what they signed up for."

I spooned some of my soup. I suppose that was true enough. As a newly refitted assault carrier, the Tarantula Hawk was a part of that special division of the Fleet that specialized in metaphorically skulking in an alley, poison dagger readied. But despite that, the crew were still people. And even if the ground teams had made a career of doing CSR's bloody work, and Lares's presence put some lie to that, they too were people with their own lives, limits, and desires.

It was one thing to look at a Table of Organization and go "yes, we have the units and equipment" but it was another to actually have the trained personnel. That wasn't even getting into the matter of making sure those personnel were always in good condition themselves, ready physically, mentally, and even spiritually to do their duties. Just keeping them on board was an entirely different kettle of fish.

"But that's not the real reason I brought you all here," Quarinus brushed it aside, "There is more good news. And I don't just mean that Alecto has been hosting a summit with Elena on Dunwitch to try and 'ease tensions'."

Fabia did not snort but her expression radiated disbelief. Caenis did not even bother hiding it and made a disparaging sound. "How... helpful. Say what you will about Alecton assistance, it's usually preferable to their enmity."

Quirinus looked into her glass before meeting our eyes. "There is... chatter that Elena has some masks to return."

That heightened the tension in the room as we all stilled. Masks were key to Elenese culture. And there was a measure of... something almost like respect for the BlackSkyvian tradition of using death masks as our Ritual Plate faceplates.

I knew, all too personally, that great effort had been made to recover every casualty, especially the living. We'd done our best to leave not even the dead behind, but not every body had been found in time or had fallen in one piece.

"That is... a positive sign," JadeTalon quietly said, a dreadful tendril of hope curled in her voice.

"If it happens," Fabia cautioned. "That would mean they see our adventure on Harp's World as a legitimate action."

"Yes, that the families of our dead deserve to have their daughter's and mother's masks back." Caenis shook her head.

"It's not just the matter of the masks, though. That they picked Dunwitch for the handover is interesting in and of itself," I noted.

Alecto and Elena had joint claim to multiple worlds, but on those contested planets, Dunwich was the only sparsely populated minor colony. From helping cover our travel on Harp's World to providing information on the Onyx Institute and the Catalan Company's mercenary ships, Alecton fingerprints were all over this operation. They were... displeased with Elenese overtures to Trosic interests, but I suspected there was more to their ire than the largest Great House getting closer to Alecto's ancient enemy.

"The other options were Wayfarer, which is too close to Diyu, and... Harp's World," Caenis drawled, earning a round of dry chuckles. "I can see why they didn't pick the latter."

"True, and the Countess is right. Picking a quiet, out of the way world is a way to try to have a face-saving meeting, one where one of Praetor DawnStrike's diplomats can make her case... unofficially. Or at least that's the rumors I heard." Quirinus paused to have a few bites of lamb before continuing.

"But that's just a bonus, if a potentially dubious one. I really called you here to reward you all for you and your girls' sacrifices," Quirinus promised, her effortless charisma returning as she once again became the ambitious and skilled commander. "You will all host a feast for your pilots and I will reimburse you. And you will do this without complaint, because..."

The Tribune smirked, showing her fangs. "You will then announce that we have two months of leave."

Her amusement at our shock was palpable.

"That is... most generous, Ma'am. And we all appreciate the time off. What will happen upon our return?" Fabia ventured, playing her role as the one of us most willing to gently challenge her.

"We'll set about rebuilding my Demi-Wing," the Tribune said simply as she picked up her glass and sipped. "The time is as much to help you all unwind as it is to give me time to cast a net for replacement pilots, hopefully pull some strings while I'm at it."

I smiled, pleased at the situation despite myself. Yes, in the new year I would be busy, but that was in the future, still distant at least for this very moment. As the most intact unit, my girls would be playing the aggressor squadron to help train the other Squadrons. Despite knowing better, I allowed myself to have a bit of hope that we would have time to allow our replacements to gel into their new Flights and Squadrons.

I had no idea what sort of questionable operation we would be thrown into after replenishing our strength, but the prospect of future combat was far from a new concern. "Having extended leave before deployment is better than no leave before deployment."

"Well said," Quirinus teased, to my mortification as I realized I had spoken aloud.

"Will offworld travel be allowed for our leave?" JadeTalon asked.

The Tribune smiled. "Yes, back home to Diyu at least. At a service discount price too."

"Just remind any green-horns to add a couple days on both ends of their trip," Caenis added. "Standby travel is relatively cheap, but the shippies won't be able to guarantee a specific ship will have spare space for you."

"What about going to Lantia?" I asked, thinking of Lucia's Third Flight. Doubtless, they would like to go back, especially if Cardino's family lived up on that moon.

"That's cleared as well with the standard limitations," Quirinus nodded. "Anywhere else on the Spine will require my authorization. Taking a vacation to kayak New Lentia's Ivory Islands is one thing but a trip out to the Empty Quarter would be quite another."

There was a mix of dark chuckles and half amused snorts at that. No one in their right mind wanted to go to the Empty Quarter. Haven was the only marginally habitable world in that Dexter and Down corner of the Dimensional Spine, and it mostly served as a base for the Empty Quarter Patrol, the only multinational organization the Great Houses bothered to respect or second military assets to. The only reason they did that was because an entire sector of the Dimensional Spine didn't earn a name like the Empty Quarter because it was considered a luxurious vacation paradise.

The Quarter hadn't always been so Empty, but everyone prayed it stayed that way.

Tucking back into my soup, my tail swished as I thought about how my pilots and Ritualista would be happy to have their vacation.

I definitely need to get a reservation at this place for... The spoon nearly slipped from my fingers in realization. No, with this much leave, I could go back to County Larium, LoveBlood could go back to the Barony of Lilla, and Visha to visit her family on Amber Island.

It made me wonder. Would I go back to Larium? Was it even going worth back to visit a place I'd only been to a handful of times? Really, my seneschal, Alexi Frugi, was the one who ran things. Maybe I could visit my mothers? Clementia would be easier to meet up with, but I should make a point to visit SilverFlight, and she usually wintered at her ducal estate.

"Thinking of a nice winter getaway with your Vs?" JadeTalon teased.

"I guess they would want to spend their leave with me," I stated as the realization slowly dawned.

"Your baroness is not a subtle creature," Fabia chuckled. "Once you tell her, I'm sure she'll have all sorts of ideas on how the highborne properly spend the holidays."

"She had me buying Saber's Watch decorations when she thought we were staying here in our apartment. And now..." Nervously, I picked up my cup and drank some tea.

"Now, she has a countess's country estate to play with. You must be ready for her sending out all kinds of invites and fillin' up your social calendar," Caenis said, her Midlands twang in full blossom.

"Don't forget to bring your tiara, sword, and any holy regalia with you when you go back. Not to mention all sorts of pretty gowns, uniforms, and sisterly outfits," JadeTalon laughed, before going back to her duck. While I was glad her emotional state seemed far better, I wish she wouldn't use the buoyed mood to tease me.

"I don't think LoveBlood will let me ever forget that cursed sword," I grumbled, prodding a floating shrimp with my spoon.

"Not without reason. Jesting aside. You should be thinking of your social obligations," Quirinus reminded me. "This is the time of year with plenty of military, noble, guild, and religious events. It's not the Feast time, but the Sabers Watch has become a major saint's day and you can celebrate with your fellow Sisters."

I managed not to sigh, if barely, as I refilled my teacup. Not that my restraint did me much good.

"Oh cheer up, we know you like spending time with your family and not just the networking part. Besides, going home will give you more chances to do all those quiet acts of charity we all pretend to not notice," the Tribune said.

"Honestly, all three of you could do with following the Countess's example," Quirinus knocked back her drink. "We're not as bad of an Old Girl's Club as the Fleet, but networking is vital in the Legions."

Fabia was too disciplined to roll her eyes, but the emotions she gave off were more than enough. For a moment, then she became thoughtful and glanced at me. Her expression was easy enough for me to read. That dinner on Forlorn Prospect had made it clear that Fabia's own status as an Imperial Heroine was not just something she could ignore and deny. Especially if she continued doing madcap acts of courage.

JadeTalon nodded thoughtfully while Caenis simply gazed at the Tribune with sober agreement.

"I suppose I could have stayed on base here doing instruction and training. Even without a suit, but if I didn't have a replacement by December..." I picked up my cup and sipped.

"Ah, offering to stay back and let the rest of us go on leave? That is a way to get experience with Demi-Wing command. Even as a caretaker of a skeleton unit." Quirinus gave me an approving look, seeming pleased by my honest ambition.

"Alas, I must return to County Larium and thus the least I can do is extend invitations to all of you." I smoothly said pulling on my etiquette lessons. "Obviously your own obligations and families come first but you are all welcome to visit."

"Spoken like a proper hostess." Quirinus bowed her horns to me.

I returned the gesture and plastered on my warmest smile. At least I was going to be busy overseeing and organizing travel for the next few days.

End Chapter 32

So Tauria and her Vs are getting some well-earned R&R; nothing to worry about.Ch 33stands at one scene and over 2k written, and there is still some more upcoming art.

Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter and helping with this whole arc. And Special thanks Readhead for helping with the tone of Doc OakStone's scene and to ScarletFox for helping with the chapter the title

Rymu · May 7, 2024

Holiday shopping, therapy, and military socialization. What a variety in this chapter.

The Vs are going to get very bred methinks once the triad are in the place for that between the schenagains in the first part of the chapter revealing that Tanya finds the broodlings adorable and the middle part going over some of Violetblood's background.

ScarletFox · May 7, 2024

Well, she finds the fluffy fox kits adorable

She finds her nieces to be exasperating. As was shown when she had to take care of the...7...I think...of them at her home that one time. She also refers to broodlings ever so lovingly as terrors.

Broodlings between the three. Suppose they'll have 6 total, switching off parentage between them?
Should workshop some names ^_^.

Rymu · May 7, 2024

ScarletFox said:
Suppose they'll have 6 total, switching off parentage between them?

Unless there's some culture stuff about who carries the broodlings, and even with Tanya's changes I'm not so sure she'd be comfortable bearing kids, 3 is the number to get a brat between every combination of parents assuming the Vs breed. Which I'm not completely sure of happening as I'm not quite sure if the two are into each other are are just good with sharing Tanya. Violetblood is probably the one most pushed to push out a broodling for a variety of reasons and possibly would be the priority to get preggers but Visha probably has wanted Tanya's babies for at least a lifetime and I don't think anyone will care if both Vs are preggers at the same time.

Simonbob · May 7, 2024

"I might lose my girls!"

"Ah, could you not blow up my office?"

RogueInquisitor · May 7, 2024

Sunshine Temple said:
and the sword my mother and sister had given me banging about on my hip.

Banging about? Sounds like she should get a decent scabbard with 2 or 3 points of attachment. A properly worn sword should not be bruising your hips/thighs.

Sunshine Temple said:
"You will all host a feast for your pilots and I will reimburse you. And you will do this without complaint, because..."

"You will all host a feast for your pilots and I will reimburse you. And you will do this without complaint, because..."

I think you only need one of these.

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

Getting some practice in, huh?

Not too sore, are you?

Connoisseur.

Not too sore, are you?

Know what you're doing yet?

Not too sore, are you?

Not too sore, are you?

Connoisseur.

Know what you're doing yet?

Not too sore, are you?

Not too sore, are you?

Well that happened

Not too sore, are you?

Really? You don't say.

Know what you're doing yet?

Not too sore, are you?

Connoisseur.

Not too sore, are you?

Connoisseur.

Not too sore, are you?

Nonrandom

Not too sore, are you?

Not too sore, are you?

Not too sore, are you?

Not too sore, are you?

Connoisseur.

Getting some practice in, huh?

Connoisseur.

Really? You don't say.

Know what you're doing yet?

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