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

[DeusFerreus]

Though the sequence and frilly decolletage were a bit much

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"sequins". Also missing punctuation at the end of this sentence.

I smiled at my fiancee. I always loved it when she spoke my language. "Right, more than any other holding, Portage gives space for Andromache to place assets and trade distance and time. It's why they paid Andromache to transport naval assets out here."

It was a bit amusing to think of Leviathan class super-heavy freighter airships transporting small seagoing ships in their entirety. Even some larger ones too, in four thousand ton sections to be assembled on-location. Comedic though the image was, wet navy ships undeniably had greater firepower, damage control capability, and power capacity per ton and cubic foot.

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I think you mean "It's why they paid BlackSky/us to transport naval assets out here.". Or maybe "It's why we got paid by Andromache to transport their naval assets out here."

 

[Sunshine Temple]

..... Misunderstanding field.

That's even more powerful than ever before!

And dammed funny, too.

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It seemed like a good place to have it hit Tauria. As it maximized the effect and cultural misunderstanding.

As Tauria is trying her best, but... she is an overachiever

"sequins". Also missing punctuation at the end of this sentence.

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ooh whoopsie. updated.

I think you mean "It's why they paid BlackSky/us to transport naval assets out here.". Or maybe "It's why we got paid by Andromache to transport their naval assets out here."

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Ahhh, the typo is that they paid Alecto to transport wet-navy assets. I'll fix that.

Thanks for the corrections!

 

[RogueInquisitor]

That was certainly stressful. I wonder what sort of response Andromache would have made if things went sideways?

 

[Sunshine Temple]

That was certainly stressful. I wonder what sort of response Andromache would have made if things went sideways?

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Excellent I wanted to convey the stress and tension. Well... Andromache did have warships in position, though mostly on the smaller end, but still bigger than whatever Elena could bring. Though as Andromache likes to keep good relations with all of the "big three" Great Houses, they would prefer not to have it go that way.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

In news, there are drafts of chapters 4 and 5 written and being edited. Chapter 6 has one scene left. There's also a Legion ground vehicle (and VTOL) update that I also plan to work on. The cad models for those are completed.

I hope to post chapter 4 by the end of the month.

Thanks to everyone for their support and interest and help in this story. It means a lot to me that you are enjoying this crazy tale and that I can share this wild world and its characters with you.

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First we have Adjustments by Lexi-Kimble
This is another adaptation of the moment in chapter 2 where Tauria has the privilege of wearing the "living shrine" vestments. In this Tauria imagines having her mother Clementia fuss over her

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Second we have Her Belle of the Ball by PlayerError404

Where Milly is showing off another costume she got for her dear friend Lucia

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Next we have Discussions by Lexi-Kimble

With Pukovnik Emilia Armin talking things over with her superior General-Lajtant HighTown

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Perfect Demon by DP

Once again Centurion Jancie BlackStar is pleased as punch to be in a unit with her hero Countess DiamondDust

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In the Sky by Lexi-Kimble

Left is Pukovnik Emilia Armin in her Volos high-veiled air superiority suit and General HighTown in her Kiwi-Zemlja Industries Perun strike RP

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The Overlook by PlayerError404

A noir style piece that has Tauria overlooking a denser part of Silvana while waiting for her mother, Duchess SivlerFlight to arrive.

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Renewed Diplomacy by Lexi-Kimble

Where HighTown is getting a bit too familiar in her meeting with Tauria.

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And finally to close things out Sleepy Succubae by Scitty

Tauria and her Vs have had a long day and are enjoying a nice nap.

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[VxCxL]

Very nice and cute art!

 

[RogueInquisitor]

Where Milly is showing off another costume she got for her dear friend Lucia

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And Lucia seems less than thrilled. Perhaps she's worried about navigating those stairs?

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Very nice and cute art!

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Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it.

And Lucia seems less than thrilled. Perhaps she's worried about navigating those stairs?

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Stairs are hard when your dress is wider than the steps and you can't see your feet. Also, she's spent a long time dealing with Milly's shenanigans

 

[Sunshine Temple]

The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

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

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

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

Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.

Interim Fanfiction and Fanart

C&C as always is wanted.

Book 3 : "Returning What Was Once Lost"
Chapter 4: Ritual Service

Sipping my coffee, I looked out the windows of the Tarantula Hawk's forward ventral observation post. Below was the main airfield of New Brigantium, Freehold's largest city. The city center was marked by an almost bastion-like collection of drum-shaped buildings, all made from darkly colored stone. I wondered if the earth spirits were unusually strong here to allow such generous use of geomancy in a single district. Despite standing at most twenty stories tall, with a notable exception, they dominated the rest of the sprawling and disorganized outskirts spreading out on either side of the wide, sluggish river that divided the city.

One dark grey building stood out among the thicket of spirit-cast buildings. Proudly sculpted in Third Epoch Revival style, the cathedral dedicated to the Order of Our Revered Paragon made it clear which branch of the Church of DarkStar dominated in Freehold. I had my issues with the third major sect of my faith, but they were only doctrinal and minor, the usual grist of sectarian argument. The Paragoners kept to the core pillars of the Church, at least, unlike some of the more fringe and outright heretical cults out here on the periphery.

I sighed, tail flicking with momentary discontent. When did I start caring so much about sectarian schisms and heresiarchs with their petite followings? Perhaps corresponding with Maaria is rubbing some of her fanatical fervor off on me

Regardless, we need to make nice with the locals

A pair of shippies were quietly talking with Flight Ops and the bridge, exchanging confirmations of various elements in our airspace while we circled the city, waiting for permission to begin our descent. I was just happy that my Squadron had not gotten the assignment to escort the Tarantula Hawk as we came in for a landing.

The core of the airfield was the small but functional air station nestled at the heart of a warren of paved runways, cargo handling facilities, and hangars. Surrounding that core was a sprawl of fields, landing strips, and cargo facilities butting up against the coast, complete with a small number of ramps and docks for seaplane transit. Proximity, and a single-tracked rail, allowed for the quick and economical transport of goods to the seaport and the waiting blue-sea haulers in their berths.

With the help of one of the scopes mounted before the windows, I studied the air traffic. The intra-atmospheric traffic consisted primarily of rugged, simple bush planes, leavened by a few transports, and a bevy of actual blimps for local travel. Of the Spinal travelers, half a dozen merchantmen were in various states of landing, unloading, or, in the case of the TV Rumrunner, squatting in the city's orbital, waiting to charge her Runes and leave. A pair of fast, sleek clippers, notable for the rows of windows down their hull, were docked near the passenger terminal.

Finally, dominating the northern fields and the rest of the air port was a single tri-hulled Leviathan class, the ULV Decadent Eclipse. Nearly half a mile long, the massive freighter dwarfed everything around it. At fully thirty stories tall, the Eclipse's bulk loomed over New Brigantium's downtown core. On either flank, hundreds of freight containers were being loaded and off-loaded in a bustle of activity, with cranes plucking steel crates from flatbed train cars conveniently trundled up on tracks laid close enough to nearly touch the freighter's outer skin with their own iron-grid frames. An army of stevedores, including flying overseers and trundling cargo golems, bustled around the ship like a swarm of ants around the carcass of a beached whale, all working tirelessly to keep the monumental undertaking in order.

"Colony's getting a big delivery," Centurion BlackStar quietly noted. She had spent time running escort on freighters Up Spine. "I wonder what the locals will fill the hull with. Freehold does business in refined rare metals, right?"

"I believe so. I am surprised it's all normal cargo crates though… A big ship like that could transport oversized cargo the size of buildings," VioletBlood said in a hushed voice as well. Unstated was that even a beast like a Leviathan would run out of weight capacity before it ran out of volume.

GreyDawn nodded in agreement, silently watching the ant-swarm far, far below.

"I guess the Freeholders didn't order any frigates or train engines. No city buses either," I joked, also keeping my tone down. We were allowed here in the observation post on the sufferance of the shippies manning this post, with a few strategically traded favors on the side to grease the wheels. Distracting them while the airship was landing would be a good way to burn any future favors, and was impolite besides.

"Maybe a train's firebox? A whole bus would be wasteful when even a place like this can make most of the bus. They would only need the engine and motors be shipped in," VioletBlood pondered as she leaned towards a window, then pulled back so the observer shippies could still keep a good view. "Maybe next month? This close to Mursam, they get visited maybe once a month, no?"

"If that, Ma'am. More like every other. I'm more surprised at having two fast liners just on the ground," said BlackStar with a small frown. As she looked between the FMV Joyous Broodling and the FMV Little Cricket. "I know Outbound Flight has a shuttle service to and from Mursam but that uses slower airships. The only fast clipper service to Freehold is the Local Loop."

The Local Loop was a play on the Grand Loop, the Alecton Royal Airways Company's most famous offering. Served by a dedicated squadron of fast clippers, the Grand Loop was a prestige route that served as the setting for endless pulps featuring intrigue, romance, and murder. Taking over three weeks to circumnavigate Diyu, the route additionally passed through the biggest colony worlds of eight of the nine Great Houses. Trosic territory was avoided due to the eternal rivalry between those two powers. Though when going through Harp's World, the Royal Airways Company made sure to use only Alecton beacons, for safety of course, in a carefully calculated snub of House Ziox.

Far less ambitious, the Local Loop was a circuit that included Mursam, the Three Sisters, and the minor colonies of Radov, Freehold, and Outworld. It was by no means Outbound Flight's only route, but it was a popular one that covered the core of the Empire's colonial holdings. With their expensive Teleport Runes, a clipper-hulled liner could complete the Local Loop every ten days. Provided there were no maintenance faults.

I inspected the liners, which, despite being roughly as large as the Tarantula Hawk, looked like miniscule orange and silver hulled pilot fish in the shadow of the Leviathan. "Looks like the Clumsy Broodling is being loaded and fueled but the Little Cricket is definitely under repair. See how the portside tail fin has been removed. Probably explains why the second one is here."

"Good eye, Ma'am," Janice agreed, her tone carefully modulated for professionalism, at least in her hushed tones. "Part of the aft power assembly has also been removed. Expensive."

"The longer they stay idle, the more money Outbound Flight loses." I sipped some coffee. "May have to get a crew from Imperial Blimp and Freight out here if the locals can't handle it. Worst case, they'll have to tow the whole thing back to Mursam, but renting an airship that large..."

At least Freehold was just one jump from Mursam. With barely half a million people on the whole planet it was still a minor colony, but hardly the rough and tumble frontier world that many liked to imagine.

"The stockyards look in good repair and the boats tying up the docks aren't horrible tubs, so I suppose they must handle a fair bit of trade," VioletBlood noted as she looked to the eastern shore. She shrugged dismissively. "Almost impressive, for a backwater."

I gave VioletBlood a pointed look. "I do hope you didn't just call Freehold, settled and inhabited by our own fellow citizens, backwards. It's not just rude but ill-advised to antagonize the locals. We shall be working closely with the Paragon's Order Militant in the future, and I would hate for our relationship with our friends in The Church to sour because we were… impolite."

VioletBlood didn't really need me to be that heavy-handed; she may have her pride, but she wasn't a fool, and I trusted her to manage most matters of diplomacy with suitable grace. However, I did need her to send the right message down to the lower ranks, the girls who I didn't trust to have a firm grasp on their tongues.


"Of course not, Ma'am," LoveBlood agreed, speaking for all my subordinates. The compartment's relative quiet also allowed her to save face. "What I mean is that I have seen worse colonies."

"I suppose it's nice, b-but it's no Three Sisters," Janice BlackStar coughed, still a bit of awe in her voice when she looked at me. "That's the problem though, I guess. We came here from Mursam, but Freehold only connects further out to Radov."

"And if one wanted to go from Mursam to Radov, one could simply go to Olivania," I agreed, looking over to see the Spider Wolf matching our course as we pulled out of the holding circle. Air Control had finally cleared us for our landing pads, apparently.

"And Olivania is more populous, industrialized, and has more beacons and ports than Freehold," Janice bragged pridefully, then winced at her volume and put a hand over her mouth.

"More of a bypassed world than a backwater. And the Freeholders like it that way," GreyDawn countered, finally speaking. She then sipped from her own mug. "Not that they can get all that they want. The reality of being a world surrounded by BlackSkyvian colonies means they can't be truly independent."

I shrugged. "Being an autonomous province with constituent territories that all send senators to the Curia isn't a bad deal."

Both GreyDawn and Janice looked a bit skeptical, but neither really disagreed.

"Independence." VioletBlood gazed down at the city beneath us as it slowly started to grow. "It is hard to be a New Van Zandt when you can't sit outside and play three great powers of each other. Freehold does have the will and all the funds that come from being an almost-freeport to make themselves a tough little nut to crack, though. They've invested quite a bit in that little air station of theirs, see?"

I nodded, thanking VioletBlood for her observation; evaluating Freehold's local forces was part of why we were here.

"It's all relative; New Van Zandt is five, no four, jumps away," GreyDawn said, counting on her free hand. "Places like Redemption, Varun, Mard, Crossroads, and even Harp's World are even further."

All of us, save BlackStar, shivered at that. As a balkanized mess, Harp's World had plenty of free cities that offered port services with no questions asked, so long as your ship wasn't seized by the Great House patrons of said city.

"Regardless, we'll be interfacing with their Colonial Air Corps, the Paragon's Order Militant, and the Freehold Militia Rangers," I reminded them, making sure to keep my voice low.

The hum from the Tarantula Hawk's propulsion pods had changed in tone as the airship's pitch changed. Our descent was now in earnest and I could just make out the glint of a couple of First Squadron's patrolling Ritual Plate.

"Mostly the first two," I said, continuing my explanation, "but we'll likely be helping train the Rangers in calling down fire support from a bunch of Sisters in Ritual Plate."

"Something we have experience in," VioletBlood grinned, an eager gleam in her eye. I could almost see some grand vision of hers sweeping her off her feet, "Why, we could have a fine time showing them the currents of how to be a proper-!"

I silenced her with a finger. My fiancee looked at me, surprised, but I just tipped my horns towards the bridge.

New Bringantium was gaining in size and detail, and now it filled the observation window. As the ship began its final approach, the dull chatter of the crew grew into a low rumble that nearly matched the hum of the engine pods. I could tell that we were falling into the moment where the bridge needed absolute focus, and not a lost gaggle of gossiping pilots distracting them.

The Wolf Spider had settled into our port side. With half the beam-width of the Tarantula Hawk, the destroyer-sized vessel could pass as a conventional Bayonet class Torpedo Bomber tender. As far as most of Freehold knew, we were simply a pair of normal Fourth Fleet vessels.

The city had grown, becoming larger and more detailed until the bulk of the hull above us blocked out the central core as ground crew moved into position with vehicles and cables. The shippies continued their calm, professional dialog. Short of combat or bad weather, landing was one of the most dangerous things an airship could do.

As the ships continued to descend, there was a rumbling noise towards the aft as both our ship and the Wolf Spider retracted their ventral tail fins. There was another, much closer rumble, as one of the immense forward landing gear caissons lowered. The shippies dutifully confirmed everything had properly moved.

As the ground shot up towards us, the ship's propulsion pods rotated and with a final burst of thrust canceled the ship's velocity. Ballast and trim systems adjusted to negative net lift, and the Tarantula Hawk settled onto the concrete apron as cables were secured onto bow and aft, port and starboard.

We had arrived on Freehold and the start of another year of service.

+++++++

One advantage of training on a minor colony was how comparatively easy it was to close off a large amount of airspace. Exercises could even be conducted almost adjacent to New Brigantium, provided local air traffic was diverted and we stayed well away from the main beacon's arrival zone.

Later, exercises would have to be moved down to Freehold's more sparsely-populated southern hemisphere, but for now we could train and come back to warm barracks bunks provided by our hosts and even dine in the city. I had spent more than enough years in the military and nights in the racks mockingly called standard issue bunks to savor the comforts of civilian living while they were available.

I stretched my wings as I checked my Squadron's positioning. It had been an almost relaxing week of evaluation flights with the Colonial Air Corps. The local Paragon Order's Militant Fliers, however...

"Diamond Actual, this is Silver Actual. Requesting a comms and data feed check," a calm voice cut in over the command channel. From her tone, one hardly got the impression that Mother Superior Humility HolyVeil was an absolute fanatic, and also the commander of Our Revered Paragon's Militant Order's Beloved Discipline Demi-Wing.

Or that she flew a Polyxo covered in even more icons and gilding than my own. DarkStar's Blood, she even used the brevity name for her first Squadron for a shocker, somehow finding the reason necessary to forgo the full, grandiose, title of "Blessed Silver Star-Maidens".

"Good call, Silver. Let's do it by Flights," I readily agreed. Separate service or no, when a superior officer "requests" something, you hop to and do it.

"Confirm Sister- that is Prefect DiamondDust. Silver One sending handshake," Mother Superior HolyVeil said, followed shortly after by each of the three pilots in her command flight.

There were pauses as each talked on the Flight channel, then the common channels. I marked the confirmation receipt of pings from their data systems. Next, their Second Flight completed the same ritual with reassuring professionalism.

A bit of tension went out of the knot of my back. Consisting of older, but well-maintained Polyxo, the Blessed Star-Maidens were Beloved Discipline's smallest Squadron and also their most capable. All eight suits were donations from various patrons of their Order; some made posthumously.

It was a bit macabre, flying dead demons' Plate, but the expensive suits would have gone to waste anyways. Donating them to the Church was just a more efficient use of resources.

Besides, only two pilots had died in their suits before they were cleaned out, fixed up, and handed to the Sisters.

I might have been concerned about the condition of all their refurbished RP, had not Gibbs and the other Ritualista already gone over the Mother Superior's suits, I thought. Her report wasn't exactly glowing, but the lack of invective was telling after its own fashion.

Officially, the senior Ritualista from all four of Quirinus's Squadrons had been dispatched to ensure they would be capable of the data sharing and airborne simulation requirements for these exercises. Unofficially, we wanted to make sure their suits were not gilded deathtraps. Besides, having reliable information on allied capabilities ready at hand could be... useful.

It's also nice to know at least some of our allies in the Militant Orders can be counted upon as professionals, I added. Certainly there are plenty of DarkStar botherers who cannot be rated as such…

"Prioress Concordia AshenOath of Black Squadron, Heretic Hammers speaking! It is an honor to train with someone touched by Our Revered Lady. Sending data handshake! Sisters call out!" the Squadron Commander said, with grandiose pomposity.

I managed to not grit my teeth as I heard the near worshipful callouts of a Squadron of loons in worryingly old strike suits. It wasn't quite as bad as first generation Melia strike suits, but time had not been kind to the old Telephe suits they were flying.

Well, perhaps that's not fair.

Technically, Gibbs had assured me that, despite the suits of Black and Red Squadron being vintage models, their Lance systems had been updated to where there was more than mere faith keeping them from exploding. Not that anyone had active flasks equipped for today's training. Our Ritualista made sure of that.

I exhaled. Red Squadron, also known as the Crimson Claws, seemed to be a bit less... eager than Black Squadron, but they and Beloved Discipline's novitiate squadron were busy training in providing ground support to the Tarantula Hawk's infantry detachment and the Freehold Rangers.

"Diamond Actual, commencing data handshake," I said as neatly laid out farmland ready for harvest rushed below us, quickly giving way to foothills of pastureland and then finally red and purple forests.

"Call it out, First Flight," Visha said, taking over with the ritual before passing along to the rest of my Squadron.

I was pleased to note that my Squadron was faster and had more comms discipline than the other two Squadrons. Though even Black Squadron, piety aside, accomplished the task. "I am reading solid comms and data links. Flight Ops, Mother Superior HolyVeil do you confirm?"

"I confirm," HolyVeil said.

"Flight Ops confirms," agreed the crisp voice of the combat controller in one of the Umbra orbiting the training area. The VTOLs would be organizing the exercise and serve as backup Search and Rescue birds in case anyone had a mechanical failure.

"Task Force Pinnacle. Task Force Pinnacle. Picket Array has detected an incoming local teleport flare. Passive scrying confirms it is the raiding force," announced the Colonial Air Corps dispatcher with as much unflappable poise as Fleet or Legion Flight Ops.

"Update on force composition?" Mother Superior HolyVeil demanded.

"Sending now," Flight Ops said, chastised by the unspoken rebuke. It seemed the locals were still working out their data fusion procedures.

That was part of this training. Being able to share intelligence and targeting information was a major force multiplier. I frowned, digesting the information as my map display updated.

"Apologies, but on further examination we found the enemy forces are more powerful than anticipated," the dispatcher said as she went into detail.

Our briefing was to expect a corvette squadron supported by a small carrier of some type. This was a fairly standard, if low endurance, raiding formation: Quick, strong enough to defend itself, and with enough offensive throw-weight to inflict non-negligible damage.

I was suspicious that the opposition for this exercise would be such a light formation, as much for the illogic of the purported force as for the tendency of planners to throw curve balls. Frankly, corvettes were fast enough that a force consisting solely of them could, at the expense of slightly more travel time, simply avoid any follow-up teleports. That the opposition was crossing Freehold in a series of short skips indicated something heavier and slower lurked in their formation.

Hence I had little surprise when Flight Ops announced that we were facing a cruiser supported by a light carrier, a couple of scouts, and, in some cosmic bit of irony, a single corvette. This heavier raiding force had arrived from offworld roughly fifteen hundred miles away and proceeded to set course towards New Brigantium. Why exactly we were scrambling at this late point instead of intercepting the raiders considerably earlier was carefully downplayed in the exercise's setup.

Clearly, the capital city was the target of their raid. If they were planning to go on to Mursam, the ships would have laid low high above the orbitals until their runes recharged.

"I estimate intercept in twenty-five minutes. Confirm?" HolyVeil asked, the nun's voice a predatory purr.

"Confirmed, Task Force Pinnacle," the dispatcher brightly replied, her voice a bit too coy. "Be careful, enemy ships will have moved from their last recorded location."

"Something is amiss," I said after switching to my own command channel.

"It's the timecode," Primus Lucia Hood stated in her cool voice.

"How long have they been here?" VioletBlood asked a beat later and gave a frustrated growl at her slowness.

"So, that's the exercise's game," Visha sourly noted.

Flight Ops had implied that they had just detected the enemy teleport signature, which would have meant we had three hours before they finished recharging their runes enough for a local hop. In truth they had been hanging around for well over two hours, which dramatically cut down our operational timeline.

Cursing my own sloppiness, I studied the arrival timestamp on the intel packet and compared it to our current mission time. Even having operations unified to Silvan standard time, there was always a bit of confusion with local time being different. "Thanks girls, I'll break the news to the nuns."

That got some warm chuckles as I switched back over to the Squadron Commander level channel.

"Mother Superior, we have a complication," I politely interjected. "Time is shorter than-"

"Oh those sneaky so and so's!" AshenOath's swear was just as vehement as it was self-censored.

"Good catch." Mother Superior HolyVeil exhaled and seemed to center herself as the next words she said were far more serene. "Flight Ops, confirm arrival time of the enemy formation."

"Picket Array detected the most recent enemy teleport flare two hours twenty-three minutes ago. There was fault in the transmission between the scrying towers and when Command received the data," the dispatcher recited the exercise's fictional narrative. "Truly, we apologize for the discrepancy and will dutifully strive to ensure it does not happen again."

The lack of shame in her voice told me that some other form of shenanigans in these training scenarios would almost certainly happen again.

Still, that confirmed the data we had been given. There was some grumbling about the unrealistic delay, and for Flight Ops to not lead with such vital information, but the Mother Superior silenced that easily.

It might not be realistic, or at least I hoped it wasn't, but I knew synchronization issues were a persistent problem. That wasn't necessarily the grumblers' point. Yes, intelligence failures happened, but tracking when an enemy teleported was just as important as where they teleported. On the other wing, an exercise was supposed to have challenges, and communications slip ups like that could happen.

We had lost precious time either way and now HolyVeil faced a decision. We had taken to the air expecting to hit a small formation in the middle of charging their Teleport Runes; instead, we had found ourselves faced with far larger ships fully capable of teleporting out of our grasp if we tarried.

"You are go for strike," the dispatcher offered in a bright tone. "Go in Her blessed name."

"May She inspire us all," HolyVeil completed the phrase with remarkable composure in light of the bad hand she had been dealt. "Aye for strike."

I held my tongue at that bit of dogma. Every unit had their foibles and traditions.

The Mother Superior then cut into the command channel and made sure it was just us. "Prioresses, the invaders risk escape. We will need to update our plan. Recommendations?"

My estimation of the women went up some. She was asking for advice from her subordinates, yes they were all warrior nun fanatics — excluding my temporary assignment, of course — but seeking counsel in private before making her final decision spoke well of her.

And she did speak hyperbolically with the talk of escape. A local teleport had a max range well under five hundred miles. We would have to find and intercept them all over again, and they would be that much closer to the city, but we could find them again.

"You can all read a map, and you all know our airspeed," HolyVeil grimly said. "We don't need to redline, but we will have to put on the power if we want to have plenty of time to confirm the enemy's location and set up good attack vectors and formations. But that will cost our veiling effectiveness and we will be discovered earlier."

Reducing velocity to make ourselves easier to Veil was an option too, I silently countered. But that came with its own risks.

"Or we can go slower, minimize detection, but risk missing them entirely," HolyVeil continued, wisely echoing my thoughts. For now, I want our velocities to be maintained at max cruise. We will be outside their detection envelope for at least another ten minutes."

And in thirty minutes the enemy raiding force would be gone and we'd have to find them all over again. I briefly went to my Flight Leaders channel and Visha quickly came up with a new formation, altitude and velocity profile for the Squadron. Glancing at the map, I saw the other two Squadrons were also adjusting themselves.

"We also have to decide our target priority," HolyVeil continued as the tree covered low mountains flew below us. "Before we had a clear listing of priorities, but this is more complex."

"While the cruiser is our primary target, we may consider doing raids of our own. Soften them up first," Prioress AshenOath noted, taking a rather reserved position for someone commanding such an aggressively named Squadron.

"Sister is correct; they still need to make two more jumps before reaching the city. This... delay is unfortunate but we do have time," Prioress ScarletDream, second in command after the Mother Superior, and commander of the Blessed Star-Maidens said.

Technically, they would be under veil while recharging their teleport runes and with their lower airspeed and emissions said veils would be more effective, but I was not going to quibble. "What about backup? The Crimson Claws or some of your allies' Hasta bombers would be quite handy. They may not make it for this strike, but in three hours?" I asked.

"That is what I would go for," HolyVeil agreed. "Ideally, we would have all of Freehold's strike RP, bombers, and other assets scrambled for a threat of this size."

She let the statement hang for a moment. Things never went "ideally" in war. This exercise was constructed around inherent limitations to available forces.

"And I will propose a second strike, but we may not get to execute the follow-up mission," she admitted. "Similarly, while I am confident in my pilots and the help from your Legionary Fliers, we will be outnumbered by the enemy RP assets and they will have Torpedo fire support.

"I might even be tempted to regroup for a later strike after the enemy formation's next teleport jump," she admitted with reluctance. "This, however, is the task before us."

I could understand her frustration. While "retreat, regroup, and re-engage in a more advantageous position" was a valid tactic, especially when the defenders could trade space for time, that was not the exercise the proctors had set up.

"Sister DiamondDust, you were right on this being a heavier formation than expected," the Mother Superior noted.

"Just my inner cynic Ma'am. There's rarely a point in an exercise suddenly going easy on us," I pointed out. "Though, I'll admit I have a subordinate more cynical than me. She's the one who spotted the time code issue."

That got several amused laughs.

"I say we focus on their cruiser; that's over four-fifths of their Torpedoes. Yes, she's the toughest target with the best defenses, but that's the ship that will bombard our homes. A cruiser is more dangerous than even three destroyers," Prioress AshenOath stated, now taking an aggressive stance befitting the Heretic Hammers.

I did not point out that even if the cruiser managed to hit the city, their home could be avenged. For a raider fleet, getting to the raid itself was only the first half. They still had to teleport off-planet.

Unlike a short local hop, an off-world teleport required charging their Teleport Runes for nearly a whole day in order to displace such an extreme distance. And since this formation was already using their Teleport Runes for local travel, they would have to charge after bombarding New Brigantium. That was the plan for the Harp's World mission, and it required having a battlecruiser come to our aid for us to escape.

But to do that they had to break contact with the colonial defenders to find a quiet place to lie low and recharge those Runes. The easiest way to do this was to kill or least effectively cripple said defenders. Another option was to present enough of a continued threat that the defenders were not willing to mount another counter-strike, thus allowing or "allowing" the raiders to break contact and recharge. Though a lot could happen in a day, and the defenders would try to at the very least have recon assets tracking the enemy's movements.

The alternative was to get a full day's charge beforehand, hit their targets and immediately teleport off world. That carried its own set of risks, but was not available to this particular formation.

"Do not discount the carriers," Prioress ScarletDream countered. "They carry the majority of the Ritual Plate. It is they and the Squadrons they host who will be defending your cruiser."

Which was true. While the cruiser carried dozens of Torpedoes, those were one shot weapons and every ton of magazine space used for air defense weapons was one less ton available to fire upon the city from standoff range. Ritual Plate, meanwhile, unless shot down was highly reusable and could be deployed for multiple sorties. On the other wing, cruisers frequently carried Torpedo Bombers. Having strike aircraft aboard gave the larger warships far more options in combat. They could be used to launch munitions for the raid, could open new attack vectors, or could further supplement the cruiser's standoff capability. However, for our concern the Bombers could be loaded with anti-air weapons to better defend their little flotilla.

"Taking out a carrier that's already launched its RP doesn't cut down the enemy combat air patrol!" AshenOath hotly replied.

"No, but taking out a hull will make it so the formation can't support them; they'll also have to pull back in all their Ritual Plate before they teleport away, unless they want to abandon their pilots. Either way the enemy will be much weaker when we hit them again, and without that carrier adding its defense," the multi-role Squadron Commander countered.

Taking a moment to sip some water and confirm my Squadron's status, I pondered as an idea crystallized in my mind. ScarletDream had a point, and there was an attritional doctrine that could be adapted for this. Especially given, just before teleporting was when a formation was at its most vulnerable.

"Sister DiamondDust, what are your thoughts?" the Mother Superior asked.

"First, I would strip away their corvette and that tricky little scout," I promptly replied. Scouts were the smallest teleport-capable airships. Every Great House had a model occupying roughly the same size and role. They were often the first to teleport in, and if they found a quiet landing spot, would quickly pulse a beacon to draw in the rest of the formation.

"Ah, may I ask why?" the commander inquired, amused.

"The cruiser and the carrier will be close enough for mutual defense," I replied to her prompting. "Meanwhile, the smaller airships will be ranging out to increase their scrying intake and to place us in a pincer when we come in on strike runs to fire our Lances."

"I see! Take out the small fry and guarantee no one can stab us in the back when we go after the cruiser!" AshenOath said with glee.

"Perhaps," I allowed. "But there are other targets we should consider. Yes, this delay is frustrating and we will have to be careful with our timing. My commanding officer Tribune Quirinus is commanding the opposing force for this exercise."

"A clever woman," the Mother Superior noted.

"Quite so, and she also has assets such as a pair of Manta Ray Torpedo Bombers and a pair of Stiletto airborne golems. Carrying ten light torpedoes, or close equivalents, each, the bombers will be used to expand their air defense network when we attack. Meanwhile, the golems only have four munitions slots and they too can carry Light Torpedo or equivalent munitions," I said, stressing the last words.

"And yet, she has a quick corvette and a cruiser with a deep magazine," Mother Superior HolyVeil said. "You don't think she's going to use the Stilettos as missile platforms like the bombers?"

"There'd be some anti-air missiles. But the Stiletto can also carry a scrying module that greatly expands their sensor capability. And with a fuel-pod or two those golems will give the Tribune a lot of her early warning capability. Unlike the bombers they are expendable; a loss of one is far less of a reduction to her defensive capability. And she would want those bombers at her back as long as she can have them," I confidently said, not realizing how wrong I was. "At least that is what I would do in her place."

"Tracking us further out, and maybe a bit of fire support," HolyVeil sighed. "I'll want your thoughts on what the Stilettos can do, but I suspect we will have to slow down to increase our Veiling a lot sooner than I expected."

"Of course, Ma'am," I happily agreed. "Regardless of the enemy's tracking capabilities, the formation will be at its most vulnerable when they are making ready to teleport. All those Ritual Plate, they don't want to be stranded alone with us. Not to mention the bombers; they would take the longest to land and a cruiser has only a few while the formation has dozens of RP. Before the flotilla teleports, those bombers will have to land."

"Aha! She agrees!" ScarletDream nodded, a smirk clear in her voice, "Obviously we need to hit the carrier first."

"Close," I said with a satisfied purr. "But before we go for the throat, I was thinking we should go for the eyes."

"Oh, I see," Mother Superior HolyVeil noted as realization hit. "You are a vicious one."

"Ma'am?" AshenOath asked.

"Our Sister from Hallowed Lady is saying we should target their Combat Air Patrol." HolyVeil chuckled. "With how nervous the enemy will be now, they should jump. Tracking them down again for a second strike will be tricky, but they'll only have Torpedoes and bombers when we find them again. That's not nothing, but it's far more exposed than they are now."

"And, it will give us time to reposition our forces into a more ideal formation as well," I offered, projecting more confidence than I felt. "Hopefully with that Hasta bomber to bring some Torpedoes of our own as well."

It wasn't a complicated plan, and in some ways it gave the enemy more breathing room than some might be comfortable with. That was fine. The purpose was to give us a lot of slack to adapt as well. After all, the exercise had already thrown us two complications, I knew there would be more soon.

+++++++

After so many hiccups in the operation already, it was almost a relief when the strike on the enemy's scouts and corvettes went smoothly.

The vessels formed a trip line far ahead of the cruiser and carrier they were escorting. They were just close enough that the corvette could still provide prompt fire support but also far enough apart, especially with their RP, to maximize the amount of sky they covered.

It wasn't the most effective formation, as it still left them exposed to attack from quite a lot of angles, but they didn't have a lot of alternatives with their limited numbers. The scouts helped but the sky was big. By covering a large forward arc, the carrier and cruiser were freed to split coverage of the rest of the sky up between themselves, sheltering the advance screen's rear.

Another pleasant, if suspicious, surprise was the lack of any Stilettos between us and our first targets. I suppose they could have been watching the other possible approach vectors to the cruiser. That is where I would have placed them.

Overall, it was a decent formation, and the Colonial Air Corps Polydora Squadron was doing a passable patrol pattern.

It just wasn't decent enough.

Not when nearly three full squadrons of strike Ritual Plate dashed in.

We made sure the first sign of our arrival was the fusillade of Lance blasts lighting up the sky, and colliding with the opposing Ritual Plate. They were only set to training mode, so rather than the eye-searing arcs of arcane energy, they were little more than dazzling targeting beams. Still, to maintain the integrity of the simulated environment, a pyrotechnic lightshow both mystic and mundane erupted between our forces.

After swiftly crushing the rival RP units, the Heretic Hammers went straight for the next biggest threat: the corvette. Even with Mother Superior's exquisite ambush granting us the element of surprise, enough Light Torpedoes still streaked out of the Corvette's tubes to send a quarter of AshenOath's pilots back to base with a new paintjob. A cynical part of me couldn't help but wonder if the ship's actions weren't a little on the sluggish side, but I didn't spend long on it before Lucia's Flight swiftly took out the scout with all the trouble of popping a balloon. Which tracked, given that's what the simulated target was.

It was all-in-all a relatively painless and textbook operation, especially when it came to working with an unfamiliar unit having suits that were not of the most modern make.

Naturally, that was when my back started to tingle from my wings down to the tip of my tail. After all, there was no concealing what we had done.

Quirinus knew where we were, knew where we would be going, and she had her Demi-Wing, minus my Squadron of course. All backed up by a cruiser's worth of Torpedoes and whatever other tricks she had in reserve. Our only advantage was my suspicion that my Tribune would not realize who our true target was.

My Squadron and the Blessed Star-Maidens flanked Prioress AshenOath's Heretic Hammers. While we were all equipped with Lances, AshenOath's Telephe suits had greater magazine capacity and were the least maneuverable.

"VioletBlood, any movements?" I asked over the Flight Leader channel.

Our formation was a compromise of being close enough for mutual defense, but not so clustered that a single salvo of Skofnung Heavy Torpedoes could swamp us with dozens of Vel missiles.

"Gorgon Rigs aren't picking up anything veiled," VioletBlood noted as she highlighted the composite data feed on the shared map. Her Flight was in the lead of my Squadron and thus one of the two leading formations.

An ad hoc formation centered on ScarletDream's three Perseus equipped suits was in the vanguard of the other flank. IBF's Tactical Air Division created the Persistent Systemic Enhanced Unified Scrying system as a rival to Mu Arc's offering. By making a more robust, inexpensive, and less capable version of the scrying suite found in their flagship Occultia suits, Imperial Blimp and Freight assured everyone the Perseus was still an excellent value.

I was not so sure about the claims made in their shiny brochures. Yes, a competitor to the Gorgon Rig was a good thing. Even, perhaps especially, in military procurement, supply chain monopolies came with risk. On its own, the Perseus was an improvement over the stock scrying array in most Ritual Plate models. Perhaps I was more upset by the blatant, almost desperate branding. I was all for the spirit of entrepreneurial competition — it was good for a strong and healthy capitalist society! — and these firms had enough challenges selling restricted and extremely expensive products. However, IBF exclusively marketed it in comparison to Mu Arc's product. Something Mu Arc publicly never reciprocated.

It was… embarrassing.

"Bombers are landing We have detected bombers landing on the cruiser," one of the forward Perseus-equipped Star-Maidens announced as the map updated.

I double-checked my displays. "Confirmed. It looks like they're leaving a bit early. Look for torpedo launches," I ordered my Squadron and then repeated over the command channel. Simulation or no, only an imminent teleport could prompt a cruiser to recall her bombers under these circumstances. I fully expected the cruiser to launch some anti-air assets and hand control over to the Combat Air Patrol before teleporting out.

"Cruiser and light carrier are not landing RP. Repeat, Ritual Plate are not landing," another sister in the Star-Maidens said, voice tight.

"Enemy Combat Air Patrol moving to intercept. Multiple vectors and altitudes!" A third voice cut in.

Then things got very hot, very vast.

"Torpedo Launch! Four Skofnung heavy anti-air. Putting up tracks," Lucia announced, on a priority push that showed the Gorgon was still the superior scrying system, at least when it had data from a dozen rigs to collate.

Two were intercepted with lance beams in very skillful shots at the max range. I had to give the Heretic Hammers that much as they managed to take out the munitions before missile separation with only a handful of wasted shots. Still, the other two Skofnungs accelerated and released their missiles putting 40 full size Vels in the battle space. All three strike Squadrons worked to take out another dozen before the missiles could get very far. The missiles were unsupported and we could focus on them.

However, two Squadrons of Sarpedona used our distraction to race in on an oblique vector. Even having trained with them, it is still a shock to see ground attack Ritual Plate confidently maneuvering at supersonic velocity.

"Visha, change heading to intercept," I ordered after getting directions from the Mother Superior to adjust our formation to spring the trap. We wanted to whittle out their Ritual Plate, this was them playing into our claws.

Right?

Satisfaction at my advice being heeded by crazy warrior nuns curdled as a Colonial Air Corps's Strike Squadron and Quirinus's own Harmonia Squadron raced in. It turned out we were not the only ones willing to wield Lances against Ritual Plate in an act of massive overkill.

The Heretic Hammers maneuvered with alacrity while maintaining proper spacing with their flanking forces. It was nice to not have allied forces bumbling into me, but their strike one was blatantly blunted.

Fortunately, our vector on the raider ships was a feint. There was a virtual flash and the cruiser left the field, leaving behind the light carrier, four RP squadrons, and... a pair of Stilettos.

Fourteen foot-long wings swept back as the air-combat golems accelerated to their max dash of nearly Mach 2. The CAC Telephe managed to just keep up running rough escort on the Stilettos.

The golems threw themselves recklessly towards our formation, forcing our strike suits to direct our focus on the enemy RP. The upgraded Sarpedona proved tough enough to make a real fight of it by soaking up Lances while the remnants of initial Vel strike from the cruiser hit the Hammers and took out another two suits.

"Enemy golems. Expect anti-air payloads Intercept! Intercept!" I ordered my Squadron. "VioletBlood, break off from the Sarpedonas, we'll cover your fire!"

Similar orders came down the command channel. We still had the edge on casualties and the Sarpedona squadron that had tried to get past my Pilots was on the edge of breaking up, at the cost of three of my pilots, but Quirinus knew how to pressure us, and, as my stomach clenched, I realized she knew how to play me.

My orders came too late as her trap closed around us.

The Stilettos could have carried all sorts of munitions, from Hrodwulf anti-air Light Torpedoes to full size Vel Standards to a mix of anything in between, all to give a range of standoff capabilities. Instead, Quirinus had them stuffed with the short-ranged Vel Sprints. In the simulation, at least. I suspected that their magazines were, in truth, completely empty. We had only brought a limited number of training munitions, mostly Konoe Light Torpedoes, and those were being saved for exercises where virtual torpedoes would not suffice.

The upshot was that each golem could hold forty of the diminutive missiles under real or, in this case, simulated battlefield conditions. That was at least two warheads for each remaining RP in our strike Squadrons, which the golems all launched at once in a massive cloud of missiles.

As the air combat broke into a veritable knife-fighting ultra-close-range fur-ball, I noted that the missiles were being skillfully directed instead of merely using on-board seekers. Under clear guidance, the highly mobile projectiles were driving us apart, slicing through knots of attempted organization and breaking up flights, leaving Quirinus's Harmonia free to pluck the surviving stragglers from the sky at their leisure.

Such close control likely came from the techs aboard the carrier daisy-chained across a relay to the Stilettos and thence to the missiles. Or, in reality, whatever Telum Centurions who were on a VTOL somewhere serving as proxy missile directors.

Despite the mounting casualties, the direct close-in application of eighty missiles actually allowed some of the Sarpedona to survive and break contact. This small silver lining came at the cost of protecting Quirinus's Harmonia and the CAC Telephe being stuck in. We cheered when one of the Stilettos was taken off the board, but I suspected that one was nearly empty on missiles anyway.

"We just have to survive until their missiles are expended, then we'll regain the firepower advantage," the Mother Superior declared as her remaining Flight broke through and sprinted towards to Quirinus's command element. Lance flasks empty, she was going in with conventional anti-air Ballista projectors.

In an impressive bit of coordination, the Colonial Strike suits were about to use their Lances to obliterate the Star-Maidens but I managed to place my remaining forces into an intercept and with our last Lances take out two full Flights, at the cost of the last sixteen Vel sprints that Quirinus had been holding in reserve on the surviving Stiletto launching directly into my Squadron's faces.

Firing my Ballista, launching flares, and even using my Zephyr, I intercepted as many as I could, trying to keep Visha "alive" and still in command. But, soon enough the edges of my screen flashed showing that I was no longer part of the exercise and was to descend to a safe, out of the way, altitude.

Shot down. Again.

Breathing hard, I gasped a few times and at least had the satisfaction to see Quirinus's suit also descending to my level.

Sipping water from the hydration tube, I took stock of who was left.

The good news was that the raiders' Combat Air Patrol was reduced to a thoroughly combat ineffective condition and it was doubtful if they could even limp back to the light carrier, which was also at risk of being taken out by a Lance strike. On the other wing, that strike mission would probably be the last thing my Squadron and the two Paragon Order Squadrons would do in this exercise.

"I suppose the debriefing will be interesting for this one," Tribune Artemis Quirinus said on a private channel.

"Mutual destruction is always a risk, Ma'am. And leads to the cold numbers of expenditure of forces. And goes into short term attrition versus long term force preservation," I stated, noticing absently that both my Vs were out of the exercise and command had devolved to Lucia, leaving her with barely a heavy Flight of pilots.

"If you don't survive the short term, then a long term won't happen," Quirinus playfully remarked. "I will admit that, as the defenders, you had a deeper pool of assets. Well, not for this exercise exactly, but overall."

"Where as raiders, you couldn't withdraw."

"Not anymore than you surmised, eh?" the Tribune said almost a purr to her voice. "Nice to see it's not just Legion wing-command level officers you can convince."

I exhaled. "I just gave the Mother Superior the best advice I could. The debrief will have a lot of ground to cover."

"And you came out of it well enough. It got a bit surprising at the end, but this exercise was not exactly fair," Quirinus took a position flying at my wing, just a bit behind me. "I will need to soothe Fabia's and JadeTalon's ruffled feathers," she said, referring to the two Sarpedona Squadron Leaders.

"Fabia will take it fine, I believe, Ma'am. But I get your meaning. It is good for those hot shot pilots in their shiny new suits to get their horns trimmed down a peg. Just so that they realize that they're just as mortal as the rest of us, and one lucky shot away from getting their wings clipped." I winced, realizing how my words could be taken.

"Ohoh?" Flying at my wing, Quirinus tilted her head meaningfully. It probably said something that she was letting me take the lead position in our little formation. "Aren't you one to talk, Countess?"

"I should certainly hope so, Ma'am," I dryly replied. "I was shot down over Harp's World, after all. That I was able to walk away from those Elenese Zorya pilots at all marks me as one of the lucky ones."

Then I shrugged to myself, opting to be a bit more casual than I would normally allow with my superior, but gambling that given the circumstances, it would be suitable for post-exercise chatter on a private channel, 'Besides, if that didn't trim my horns down to size, a little practice flight with my mother Duchess when I went home certainly did the trick."

My commander's grim laughter told me I had made the right call.

End Chapter 4 of Book 3

Apologies for the delay. I posted a chapter for another project and have been working on a Dresden Files one shot (another sequel to Blood Debts) .

Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, PonKatt, ScarletFox, and Lisafication for checking and editing this whole work and putting in all the effort to clean up the story. Special Thanks to Scarlet Fox for the chapter title and the LD discord for helping bring this chapter together and with the editing and polishing.

Chapter 5 has been written and is being edited. And the bulk of ch 6 has been written (at also at 9k words).

 

[Tortoise]

"I do hope you didn't just call Freehold, settled and inhabited our own fellow citizens, backwards.

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inhabited by

"And Olivania is more populous, industrialized, and has more beacons and ports than Freehold," Janice bragged pridefully, then wince at her volume and put a hand over her mouth.

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winced

"Not that they can get all that they want. The reality of being a world surrounded by BlackSkyvian colonies meant they can't be truly independent."

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means

Ballast and trim systems adjusted to negative net lift, and the Tarantula Hawk settled onto the concrete apron as cables were secured onto bow and art, port and starboard.

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aft

One advantage of training on a minor colony was how comparatively easy it was to close-off a large amount of airspace.

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close off

Exercises could even be conducted almost adjacent to New Brigantium, provided local air traffic was diverted and we stayed well away from the main beacon's arrival zone

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zone.

I might have been concerned about the condition of all their refurbished RP, had not Gibbs and the other Ritualista already gone over the Mother Superior's suits, I thought.

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"I thought" incorrectly italicized

"Prioress Concordia AshenOath of Black Squadron, Heretic Hammers speaking! It is an honor to train with someone touched by Our Revered Lady. Sending data handshake! Sisters call out!" the Squadron Commander, said with grandiose pomposity.

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Commander said

"Diamond Actual, commencing data handshake," I said as neatly laid-out farmland ready for harvest rushed below us, quickly giving way to foothills of pastureland and then finally red and purple forests.

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laid out

If they were planning to go onto Mursam, the ships would have laid low high above the orbitals until their runes recharged.

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on to

"Oh those sneaky so and so's!" AshenOath's swore was just as vehement as it was self-censored.

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swear

"Flight Ops, confirm arrival time of the enemy formation.

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formation."

On the other wing, an exercise was supposed to have challenges, and communications slip up like that could happen.

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ups

"This, however, is the task before us"

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us."

That was the plan for the Harp's World mission, and it required having a battlecruiser come to our aide for us to escape.

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aid

But to do that they had to break contact with the colonial defenders to find a quiet place to lay low and recharge those Runes.

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to lie low

Ritual Plate, meanwhile, unless shot-down was highly reusable and could be deployed for multiple sorties.

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shot down

"Close," I said with a satisfied purr. But before we go for the throat, I was thinking we should go for the eyes."

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"But

All backed up a cruiser's worth of Torpedoes and whatever other tricks she had in reserve.

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backed up by

"Bombers are landing/ We have detected bombers landing on the cruiser," one of the forward Perseus-equipped Star-Maidens announced as the map updated.

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All three strike Squadrons worked to take out another dozen taken out before the missiles could get very far.

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Fourteen foot-long wings swept back as the air-combat golems accelrated to their max dash of nearly Mach 2.

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The good news was that the raider's Combat Air Patrol was reduced to a thoroughly combat ineffective condition and it was doubtful if they could even limp back to the light carrier, which was also at risk of being taken out by a Lance strike.

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raiders'

"Where as raiders, you couldn't withdraw."

"Not anymore than you surmised, no?" the Tribune said almost a purr to her voice.

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?

'I was shot down over Harp's World, after all. That I was able to walk away from those Elenese Zorya pilots at all marks me as one of the lucky ones."

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"I

 

[Sunshine Temple]

inhabited by

<snip>

"I

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Thanks for all the corrections! Apologies for you needing to find them. I updated the chapter with them and reuploaded it.

Thanks again!

 

[RogueInquisitor]

Seems like local jumps by a raiding force only make sense if you don't fear prompt retaliation. On Harp's World, they tried to take out all forces that could respond in time as part of the raid, and the arrival of the DarkStar raised the level of required forces above what the defenders could muster.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Seems like local jumps by a raiding force only make sense if you don't fear prompt retaliation. On Harp's World, they tried to take out all forces that could respond in time as part of the raid, and the arrival of the DarkStar raised the level of required forces above what the defenders could muster.

Click to shrink...

Very true!

In making the setting I wanted to have several types of teleportation, but I didn't want to have it where a ship could too easily break contact. A raiding force could pre-charge their teleportation systems but that would having the time to charge before the attack.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

Apologies for the delay since the last chapter posted. But I have good news. The draft of ch5 is written and is being edited, and chapters 6 and 7 are almost done (there's some stuff to fill out ch7, including a reference to some of the below poetry.

And as another bonus I've started working on a Blood Debts one shot (my Dresden Files branch to Return) called Dreamland.

But it's not just that as to why I'm posting all this, I'd also like to thank you all for your continued interest and engagement in this story, as niche and slow to release as it is. Onward and upward!

---

And fittingly we'll start with the business in this piece by PlayerError404.
While the Vs are skeptical that Salaryman was so tall as Tauria asserts, they do agree their Countess does have a head for business.

Fullsize​

---

Next from Agnikka we have great set of pieces showing the 3 Polyxo Models.


First is Ground Attack:

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Variant without Helmet​

Next is Air Superiority

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Variant with Helmet​

And Finally the Lance Strike Variant

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Variant without Helmet​

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Now this came thanks to @Readhead for pointing out that Kipling's The Roman Centurion's Song would fit into House BlackSky. Here's a musical version of it. And that Diyu Demons being the cultural magpies they are would glom onto it and adapt it to their own.

Here's my attempt at making such a song.

Legate, last night–my cohort ordered back home to our Mama-
By ships to Portus Abyle and thence by rail to Silvana.
I've marched the companies aboard, the arms are stowed below:
Now let another take my sword. Command me not to go!

I've served up-Spine forty years, from Bononia to Novia,
I have none other home than this, nor any life at all.
Last night I did not understand, but, now the hour draws near
That calls me to my native land, I feel that land is here.

Here where men say my name was made, here where my work was done;
Here where my dearest dead are laid–my wife–my wife and daughter;
Here where time, custom, grief and toil, age, memory, service, love,
Have rooted me in Novish soil. Ah, how can I remove?

For me this land, that sea, these airs, those folk and fields suffice.
What purple Diyu pomp can match our changeful Up-Spine skies,
Black with December snows unshed or pearled with Sextilis haze–
The clanging arch of steel-grey Martius, or Iunius's long-lighted days?

You'll follow Three Sisters till seas and skies crowd
Aslant before the wintry breeze that sweeps Olivana becloud
To Mursam's triple gate; but let me linger forever,
Back where our stiff-necked Novish oaks confront the Zephyr!

You'll take the old Gateway through descending rails
Where, cavernous as an airship's hangar, the grand terminal unveils
You'll go where laurel crowns are won, but–will you e'er forget
The scent of hawthorn in the sun, or bracken in the wet?

Let me work here for DarkStar's sake–at any task you will–
A marsh to drain, a road to make or colonial troops to drill.
Some Western camp (I know the Kitsu) or guard missile silos,
Mid seas of heather derelict, where our old messmates doze.

Legate, My cohort ordered home. I come in tears and much drama!
I've served up-Spine forty years. What should I do in Silvana?
Here is my heart, my soul, my mind–the only life I know.
I cannot leave it all behind. Command me not to go!


Parts of this will show up in chapter 7 as a kind of melancholic marching jodie

---

And next we have a preview of some things to come. Namely some new equipment the boffins in House BlackSky are cooking up.


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​

This is a familiar table that has a few new and updated entries.

First is an expansion on VTOL doctrine. Namely that a VTOL can carry more mass (but not volume) if it doesn't have to do a vertical takeoff. That is if it has a runway or can be dropped from an airship. This is most useful for heavy cargo and vehicles. This doctrine does allow for all sizes of VTOLs to carry more, and in some cases the limitation becomes the interior volume of the aircraft instead of their weight limit.

The Sarcina heavy Assault Vtol was sized to take advantage of this. It has a drop max cargo capacity of 45 tons and a VTOL max cargo capacity of nearly 30 tons. This means it can deploy a any vehicle smaller than a Lavin MBT and do so in a lighter and more agile VTOL, at least compared to the lumbering Gladius and Pugio. This comes at the cost where the Sarcina cannot vertically takeoff iwth such a load. However it still has a lot more lift capacity than the workhorse Umbra VTOL.

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The Eris Mark 2 is an update to the Eris Infantry support gun. Instead of having a limited traverse casement, it now has a small 2 person turret. The turret has a mere 2 inches of composite armor (3 in some places) and is relatively, but not prohibitively cramped. As a Nymph family vehicle the driver still has the worse ergonomics. Storage is still good and allows for a resonable stock of machine gun ammo, 18mm rotary canon ammo, 80mm light shells, smoke grenades, and Vel missiles. This makes the Eris a more nimble asset to support Legionaries as a fire support element, especially as an asset that can be delivered by a mere Umbra.

The Nxy Scout Mark 2 is a dedicated scout and recon platform. Where the first generation Nyx was a Nymph giving more veiling and scrying systems. The Mark 2 is a lower profile hull (that allows the more advanced, if cramped one person turret full 360 rotation) It also has further improved scrying, veiling, comms, warding and weapons systems. It now doesn't have to pick between a rotary canon and Vel missiles, and has some 40mm grenades. The Nyx Mk2 has added capability as a forward scouting platform that can support recon elements, check enemy locations and provide fire direction.

---

And that took a while to setup, so let's close out with this piece by Lexi-Kimble.

Where Duchess SilverFlight is relaxing. And it looks like she and Tauria share some similar cultural tastes.

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[moon so bright]

The office-succubi are really cute! Good work on them.

 

[RogueInquisitor]

I like how even when in business wear, Tauria is still displaying a number of DarkStar stars. She's a rather devout and pious one.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

The office-succubi are really cute! Good work on them.

Click to shrink...

Thanks! Amusingly, that piece (and the last one with the Duchess) were tossed in at the last minute to "bookend" the post. IE business and pleasure. But I'm really happy with how well-received they are!

I like how even when in business wear, Tauria is still displaying a number of DarkStar stars. She's a rather devout and pious one.

Click to shrink...

Though Tauria will insist that VioletBlood or Reinhild set out those outfits and accessories. When the truth is that Tauria picked out those ornaments and insisted on them.

 

[Sunshine Temple]

The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

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

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

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

Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.

Interim Fanfiction and Fanart

C&C as always is wanted.

Book 3 : "Returning What Was Once Lost"
Chapter 5: Ritual Guilt

As Lares stepped into the cramped conference room that we had claimed, I took the opportunity to look up from my paperwork, giving my cramping hand a moment to rest. Around me, the binders and crates loaded with paperwork, as well as the typewriter and refreshment cart Milly had scrounged from… somewhere, buttressed my improvised workspace in bulwarks of military bureaucracy, an impression only deepened by the various maps of Freehold festooning the walls so thickly that the original wallpaper was nearly obscured. Each of these was studded with pins, each carefully labeled with neat notations inked onto scraps of paper, like some sort of crepe-based fungus. Each of those tied back to a much greater mass of paperwork freshly organized into neatly labeled folders, all slipped neatly into the boxes around me.

Collating all this data was tedious work, monstrously so, but necessary. The whole point of these exercises was learning from them in advance of true operations out in the field; both acquiring teachable lessons and applying them to doctrine required careful documentation. That was a duty that preempted various social fripperies, despite my fiancee's pouting protests. That… was unfair, I knew; LoveBlood had accepted my logic easily enough when I rejected invitations in favor of work, and had even suggested that, while her flock of noble brats went over the maintenance evaluations, Milly could help me chip away at my own paperwork queue. Beyond offering up her subordinates, VioletBlood was helping out personally too, spending much of her time this last week busying herself with furious typing. Most of it was even for the exercises; I did not want her.. hobby... to take up too much time.

Hand raised up to touch the door's lintel, Lares gingerly stepped through the doorway. While the tall and broad doorway technically meant the Forest Person had plenty of space for his wide frame, years of service on Household Fleet airships had ingrained the experience of navigating their relatively cramped confines into his bones.

That said, watching his head was still a prudent choice given all the models of various airships, suits, and golems dangled from the ceiling like an aerial minefield. I'd let my subordinates string them up in the name of morale, but perhaps it was a bit too much whimsy. Though their creativity in crafting those demented mobiles from paper and bits of sheet metal was impressive if perhaps a bit too much whimsy.

Lares's nose wrinkled slightly as he eased into the room. I could not blame him; the burnt scent of coffee, mingled with the burned tang of old incense and the slight odor of too many demons in too small of a room, tickled my own nostrils. I could only imagine what it smelled like to him. It was better than the average smoke-filled meeting room with the brass of Germanina, but that wasn't exactly a high bare to clear.

Catching my movement in the corner of her eye, Janice looked up from the report she was perusing at the end of the table and nearly dropped it when her eyes met Lares's chest. With an almost disbelieving air, her gaze slowly rose until she found Lares staring back at her, at which point she blushed and tried to hide behind her print-out.

I could not fault my newest pilot. It was hard for Lares to not loom.

Far more of a social animal, Milly stood up at once and pulled out the room's sturdiest chair for the new arrival. The Freeholders' woodworking skills were more than up to the task, especially since, unlike on an airship, this airbase didn't need to save every pound and ounce.

With careful gentleness and a nod of thanks for Milly, Lares set down a neatly bound stack of reports on the edge of the table. It was a bountiful addition to the already prodigious collection.

The pile of paperwork immediately got Janice's attention. Which was reassuring, in a way. Colony-born or not, the glossy-horned woman found training debriefs more interesting than the presence of a hulking Forest Person.

"Lares! Great to see you, please take a seat," I gestured with a smile.

"Coffee? Tea? Posca?" Milly chimed in, giving a sparkling smile as she slid naturally into the role of hostess.

Taking the chair, Lares opened the pile of briefings and spread them out. "Coffee would be lovely."

As Milly busied herself filling a large mug from a metal carafe and adding the preferred amount of sugar by memory, I glanced over the reports that Lares pushed my way. "Any surprises? How did our metallic friends perform?"

Lares gave an appreciative sip from his freshly served mug. "The Scorpions are very eager and take direction for fire support well."

"But?" I continued flipping through the documents.

"All our exercises were limited in duration," Lares said before accepting, with wry amusement, some biscuits Milly offered. Where she had stashed the snacks, I could only guess.

He stared out the window at the airbase's warehouses and beyond that one of New Brigantium's industrial districts. Lares gestured to one of the reports. "Not that doing a landing evolution, seizing an objective, loading everything back onto the VTOLs and going back to the Hawk doesn't teach us a lot."

"Like the importance of proper tie-down procedure?" Milly asked with a smile.

Both Lares and Janice darkly chuckled while I shook my head. While based on the Mule cargo strider, the Scorpion ground combat golem was longer and heavier. It was enough of a difference that a harried Load Mistress would find that a "field expedient" in-flight strap-down sufficient for a Mule might not be enough for a Scorpion.

Thank DarkStar that, when the golem had shifted, it merely crashed into a cargo container, scattering ration packs all over the VTOL's passengers. If a Legionary had been pinned by the sliding golem or if Party Cannon had broken free, the damage would have been far worse. As it was, that particular war-machine had gotten a reputation and new bit of hull-art.

And a certain Load Mistress had found herself volunteering to determine the proper emergency tie-down procedures.

"Longer exercises are more involved to set up and support. Doubly-so for air-ground operations. More than double, Ma'am!" Janice's eyes widened when she realized she'd volunteered that information without being asked, before squaring her shoulders and bravely pressing on. "I can calculate the required staffing and resources for dedicated ground-attack support"

I waved off the young woman's worry. "No need right now, but if we do set up an exercise, I will ask for your experience as a former Sarpedona pilot."

Relieved and tail swishing at the praise, Janice sipped her tea. "I suppose if the goal is a longer ground operation to test the Scorpions... we wouldn't need to have persistent RP support for the whole exercise."

"That would allow us to simulate a loss of air support," Lares noted, then held up a placating hand in advance of any objections. "I know you Legionary Fliers are loath to leave us exposed down in the mud, but..."

"The enemy is rarely so accommodating," I agreed.

"I could talk with that handsome Landgrave and see if his Stilettos wouldn't mind being routed for such an exercise," Milly offered with a lascivious grin that would make VioletBlood jealous. "I can figure out a few events to invite him to to fill out my dance card. The Freeholders do have a surprisingly cultured nightlife, Ma'am."

I nodded curtly, accepting her offer while pushing aside the noblewoman's not so subtle hint. She was not the only one fretting that I was not meeting my social obligations – VioletBlood had also made her stance on the matter known as well.

Pulling another binder over, I opened the waxed stock cover and flipped through the pages of the deployment schedule. "I'm not sure when Prefect Centurion Camilus will be available. Ah... well tomorrow and the next day, the Stilettos are doing long range reconnaissance patrols." I frowned at the mission profile. That the location of where they were doing the patrols was listed lessened my suspicions... a bit.

"I heard the mind behind that particular exercise hid their surveillance targets in some rather devious locations," Lars idly noted as he took another biscuit, crunching it in almost one bite.

I grinned. "Then a few days after that providing fire support for a joint Freehold Ranger and Colonial Air Corps operation. I'm not sure if we'll be able to carve out the time." The schedule was not totally filled, but that was only if one did not account for transport, fueling, repairs, and inspection. "Hmm, and they'll be working with the Wolf Spider's Manta Ray bombers. No great surprise there."

"Will the Stilettos be launched from the bombers?" Milly asked.

"Sure... that would really extend their range; unfortunately that's most of the bomber's payload just to carry like... a third of their normal missile count. It's just not practical," Janice said, idly doodling some sort of fanciful aerial dogfight. While small as bombers went, the Manta Ray would not do well against Ritual Plate in a gun battle, even one from House Ziox.

"I heard they're having them work together. Having the Stiletto acting as a scout for the bombers, looking for enemies and confirming targets," Milly said, tapping a thoughtful finger against her chin.

"There's a lot of potential with both platforms." I closed the binder. Ritual Plate still beat them in terms of combat power per pound, but Ritual Plate depended on beam based strike weapons, which lacked the standoff range of the light and heavy torpedoes.

"It's good the brass horns are testing them out now. Though I'm sure there will be larger scale tests," Lars said with a shrug. From most anybody else, the gesture would have been casual; coming from Lares, it was weighty with import. "But enough on the aircraft. Anyone else working with you Volantes pilots?"

"Oh, what about the Paragon's Order Militant?" Janice asked, curiosity in her voice.

Opening the binder anew with a sharp crack, I flipped through until my finger landed onto another page. "The Beloved Discipline Demi-Wing will be doing a quick mission with us, and then we'll all be having a maintenance stand-down."

"Before we go to Monmouth for the big training exercise?" Janice asked.

"It will be fun to visit another moon," Milly mused happily, her painted lips curling up in a smile. "I heard Monmouth is just lovely this time of year, and I've been told the Paragons have a wonderful monastery up there."

"Their temples do seem to be rather warm and welcoming." Janice's eyes darted guiltily to me and she coughed. "I mean they don't have the gravitas of Our Hallowed Lady, of course. Ma'am."

"The Paragons are hardly heretical," I reassured her as kindly as I dared. It would not do to get my excitable fan too much anxiety.

"They are far less dour than Martyred Lady, but we all revere DarkStar, do we not?" Milly agreed with a warm smile like the born diplomat she was.

"There are other faiths among us," my tail twitched as I glanced at Lares.

Janice gasped while Milly briefly looked abashed.

The Auxilia Scout shrugged. "All three branches have fine enough sisters."

Both my subordinates looked expectantly at me, their tails swishing

"Yes, I can't disagree with their sect emphasizing DarkStar, the woman, as a person to venerate and emulate with respect to Her virtues," I diplomatically said as I straightened the papers before me. In the abstract, I could understand the appeal of the Paragon sect, especially compared to the more... arch views held by the Martyred Lady church. Though, if I were honest with myself...

And when was I not? That cynical voice whispered in my mind.

Yes. The greater... rigor of the Order of Our Hallowed Lady appealed to me. And it was not because that was the faith I had been raised in?

"They are less standoffish than I feared. Freehold in general does have an unfortunate reputation for being overly-wary of off-worlders. Not that I can't sympathize with their desires for..." Coughing, Janice studied my face. "Um... balancing their desires for self-determination with good trade relations while, of course, supporting the Imperatrix in her grand strategy."

I managed not to laugh, but my mirth at watching Janice dance her way through the minefield she'd stepped into was obvious , even if I kept my tail from wagging. "Well put."

"Not that Invidia and her associates aren't making the most of this exercise to train up for CSRs primary mission," Milly's bubbly tone concealed her barb lurking within like the proverbial razor hidden in fairy floss.

The Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance's primary mission was to study, document, and learn the enemy's economic, social, military, political, and cultural capabilities. My eyes went to the scheduling binder. There were several days where the Stilettos were tasked on "Support and Verification Missions". Specific routes, goals, and any real details were pointedly missing.

Looking down, Janice sipped her tea. Green as she was, she was still wise enough not to draw attention to herself in the same breath as Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance.

Lares, meanwhile, looked thoughtful. "Extended surveillance is something those Stilettos excel at, especially when their payload bay is full of extra fuel cells."

Milly batted her eyes happily.

"Yes, well, platform availability does limit our options," I made a few notes on a scratch pad.

"You're updating the air-to-ground training?" Lares asked.

"The reward for good work is more work!" Milly chuckled. "And Janice here has a devious mind!"

"And we can't have Fabia and Julia writing their own exercises," I added, telling a white lie. Often a Squadron Commander would write a training mission for her subordinates, but it was better to have a second set of eyes, if possible, to set things up.

"Perish the thought!" Milly gasped with overwrought drama.

Following the blonde noblewoman's lead, Janice laughed. "We add that to our task-list then?" she inquired, once the office jocularity had passed.

"When we have time," Milly said coyly, her eyes flicking to the wall clock.

Lares leaned over to look at the notepad Janice was filling out. "That... is quite the list."

"We'll get to it," I assured him.

Nodding, he sipped his drink. "I have no room to talk; my lads also have been busy." He waggled his giant fingers. "I had to pick up some extra pens from a specialty shop in the city."

"Our work is never done," I agreed.

"But that's no reason to not take a break," Milly said, her tone having that same sly seductive amusement.

"Oh yes, we can take up the work when you are busy-" Janice caught herself, "-with command things."

Turning, I gave the glossy-winged girl a sharp look.

Her dark blue eyes darted around.

Milly's expression turned glassy before her gaze went to the clock and she rallied. "Don't worry, Ma'am! Yes, we've got some schemes in the works, but we have good reason for this particular one!"

I narrowed my eyes but before I could speak I felt a familiar tingling on my horns.

The door then slammed open and, bold as brass, Baroness VioletBlood strode in, decked out in a particularly frilly set of Legion dress blacks. "There you are!'

"LoveBlood! I um... have work."

"You have subordinates for that, silly!" Laughing, the curly-haired redhead pulled me to my feet. "Come, we're almost late!"

I frowned.

Tail swishing, VioletBlood leaned in. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were hiding up here and hoping you could skip this luncheon."

"It wouldn't be the first time she worked through lunch," Lares mumbled, the traitor.

"I really would like to meet with the Legion Reservists Club, but... " I swept my arms over the piles of papers on the table.

"Oh my, Countess! That's what you have people for, is it not?" Hand to her mouth, VioletBlood laughed, eyes dancing with mirth as she effortlessly deflected my attempted parry.

"That includes you," I countered, my tail flicking to and fro in the cramped room.

"Yes, Ma'am," she replied brightly, her green eyes shining. "Which is why I have Lady Lucia coming up to help her subordinates get ahead on your paperwork."

I did not pout at my baroness's machinations. "And Lares?"

VioletBlood shook her head. "I would never dare to boss around our allies in the Scout Auxilia."

The massive lump in the extra-large chair chose to remain silent in the face of that flagrant lie.

Glancing at the clock, I felt a bit of relief. The venue was across town from our air station and even if we left now we would have to get a lucky break or two for the city's tram schedule to not make us too late to arrive fashionably delayed. "I guess we can make it to the luncheon, but I'm afraid I won't have time to change." Not that I felt I needed to change, of course; my Legion Blacks were sufficiently formal, but more importantly, this kept my fiancee from needing to make any sartorial choices on my alleged behalf.

"Oh, you're right. Well, time management means we can't always get what we want," VioletBlood readily agreed, offering her hand. "Shall we?"

Still wary, I followed her out. Behind us, Lares closed the door with a firm click.

In the corridor, VioletBlood's smile turned all fangs. "Now... now that you're out of your nest of paperwork we have to hurry. Lucia will be holding down the Squadron while we're out, and Islander Girl will meet us in the lobby."

I fell into step next to her as we went down the hall to a stairwell. "You didn't have to spring this on me, you know. I would have come."

"Good. I know you get nervous at public events, but I also know you don't want to disappoint your fans," VioletBlood waved a hand in dismissal as she bounded down the stairs in not quite a flounce.

"You're not wrong," I admitted as we exited out onto the ground floor.

She turned around as we went past a few maintainers and clerical staff. "I rarely am. We can all see how Janice looks up to you."

"Not that," I sighed, though my newest pilot was proving to be less of a sycophant than I had feared. "I mean, a lot of veterans retire out here after their end or service. Pensions go further this far out on the Spine."

"Yes, they get their cozy not-so-little land grants from a generous Imperatrix and start their own families out among the stars, a very romantic way to retire to a peaceful life," VioletBlood clasped her hands as her tail curled around mine. I felt her amusement and something like longing. I was not the only one who had plans for after our terms of Legionary service were over.

I blushed and stepped a bit closer to make the display not quite so blatant. "It's not really a retirement, at least not for the Rorarii reservists."

Given our lifespans it would be foolish for the BlackSkyvian, or any other House's, military to not make use of a reservist system. For the Fleet, Legions, and Auxilia, there were two levels: the more active Rorarii reservists who got larger stipends but had higher odds of be called up, not counting various monthly musters, and the second line reservists, whose obligations were much less likely to upset a former Legionary's new life, but who were commensurably less well-paid.

Patting the back of my hand, VioletBlood rolled her eyes. "I was thinking of the Second Liners. Those who don't sign up for local units at least."

"Well... local units have their own systems-" I started but then we were in the lobby.

"Islander Girl! Is everything ready?" VioletBlood asked as she confidently strode to the doors, pulling me in her wake.

Out in the bright sun, Visha looked up from loading a pair of large duffels into the trunk of a glossy red sedan. "Yep! It's all loaded and we're ready!"

Exiting the lobby, I eyed the long luggage bags warily but, bearing her own mischievous grin, Visha closed the trunk lid before I could ask any questions. "You hired a car? Very wise, now we won't be late."

"We try to make things easier for you," Visha said, opening the back door and handing VioletBlood something that looked like a slim toolbox. I couldn't place it at the moment, but my tail curled with apprehension.

Once again VioletBlood's smirk was predatory as she accepted the familiar object before pushing me into the car. "Indeed! We'll arrive with plenty of time."

Surprisingly, the driver was one of my Ritualista. Though a bit of guilt was marked on Laurentia's blue features, but she steeled herself and put her hands on the steering wheel.

I took a moment to be confused by what that was about when VioletBlood climbed in after me and Visha came around from the other side. It was not that I minded being crammed between my Vs. The back of a Mammon Motors sedan was far roomier than a Spatha VTOL or a Nymph light transport.

"Ladies?" I asked, an edge to my voice as Laurentia put the car into gear and started driving towards the air station's gatehouse.

"Hush, Countess, even with your subordinate driving we will be pressed for time," VioletBlood opened the metal case and revealed... rows of cosmetics, brushes and other accoutrements.

"You can't do our makeup while we're driving!"

Pressing up against me, VioletBlood gave me a theatrical eye roll. "Of course not, don't be silly."

I relaxed a bit. The redhead's easy confidence was comforting.

"I'll have to apply it when we're stopped," VioletBlood assured, pulling out a set of silver tweezers and a small blusher. "At least this way if we get stuck in traffic it won't be a total waste. Now stop squirming, I didn't sacrifice a bunch of my baggage allotment to make space for your formalwear to let you not wear matching makeup. And don't get me started about your hair today."

I pouted and turned to Visha but found that my wingwoman simply shrugged. Traitor! I should have stayed in my office, I sourly thought to myself.

"Oh don't fret, I'll make sure your mistress will be dressed up too. That's why I had you load in both bags, Islander Girl," VioletBlood promised, causing Visha's tail to go limp. "All three of us have to make a good impression. Now, let me work!"

+++++++


Our bunks on the Tarantula Hawk were far from inadequate, but we all were far too seasoned campaigners to turn down the superior billets the Freehold Colonial Air Corps offered in their barracks.

One of the downsides of high-quality billeting, though, was a commensurate increase in social profile and expectations; consequently, I was worried that Lady Melisande's idea of a party might be off-putting to our hosts. Both her noble sensitivities and her... "playful" attitude represented potential trouble-springs, bountiful in their promise of ruffled feathers galore. That she, like Lucia, belonged to the sect of Our Martyred Lady represented yet another potential sore spot with the militant pilots was also concerning, if less than her other eccentricities. For all their piety, the Order of Our Revered Paragon nuns seemed accepting of my role as liaison officer, and while I did not wear my novitiate sister vestments around them, my status was literally gilded onto my Ritual Plate; more than enough social grease to smooth over any theological divisions, or so I hoped.

With all that said, I couldn't critique her tastes in venues: For the party, Melisande had selected a rather delectable seaside bistro, and the band she had hired as the entertainment had clearly been briefed well in advance. The relaxed atmosphere their calming music spun helped salve any hard feelings lingering on either side of the participants in yesterday's raider and defender exercise.

Before leaving for the night, I'd made sure to quietly give Lucia the funds necessary to compensate Milly for her efforts, and the blonde herself kind words of approval and gratitude.

Once I'd left the party, I had expected nothing less than a deep, restful sleep in the arms of my betrothed, a rightful payment for the long post-exercise debrief that had taken up so much of my day.

It wasn't to be.

Wakefulness came to me abruptly. A startled gasp in my throat, the wet of blood on my lips, and the fading wisps of those old, familiar, shapeless nightmares.

Unfortunately, I ended up awake in a disheveled sweaty heap at an hour that only bakers, metro-medicos, night-guards, and those in the military could truly appreciate

Untangling my wings from my Vs, I slipped out of the actual, real bed we'd been so graciously provided with and went to the counter on the side of the small room. As my heartbeat decreased back to its usual relaxed tempo, the remembered stink of charred, cooked flesh slowly receded from my nostrils.

Gripping the edge of the counter I peered at my reflection. The dim light from the air station coming through the heavy curtains was enough for me to see my ashen face. For a moment my eyes looked silver-gold. My claws cut into the counter as I exhaled and pulled in my wings. When I opened my eyes, blue shone back in the reflection.

Lifting a hand, I went to my toiletries bag and pulled out the green bottle that contained my Benzodril. I still had plenty left and this certainly fell under the terms of my prescription. Leaving the bottle on the counter, I dry-swallowed one of the little yellow pills.

Tail swishing, I turned to the bed. It did look inviting but... I glanced at the pair of clocks on the wall. One was Freehold local time, the other Silvan Fleet time. A soldier should always get as much sleep when available, that was a truism, but… On the other wing, I would have the showers all to myself at this hour. And unlike on-ship, I could take as much time and enjoy as much hot water as I wanted.

Decision made, I slipped on a robe, grabbed a fresh uniform, picked up my toiletries bag, and left the dark room.

On par with the bunks, the showers were a significant upgrade from Legion standard. Fleet airships, especially the larger ones, were notorious for their luxurious baths, but even those were only remarkable by military standards. On-ship, water was a finite resource to be reclaimed and recycled when possible, conserved when not.

Going down a corridor, I found the showers to be freshly cleaned and empty.

Harsh electric lamps burned in their sconces, giving the room an almost antiseptic feel. Their presence, here and in the rest of the facility, implied that Freehold had a bulb factory somewhere in the city. I suppose such consumables would not be prohibitively expensive to ship from Mursam, at least for private use. But a military base, even a relatively small colonial air station, would go through a lot of light bulbs and supply officers would find such costs unacceptable.

Or, at least, I would. Specialty bulbs for landing and search lights were a different logistical cost and harder to replace with gas lamps or purely magical means, but this profligate use of near civilian-style fripperies...?

Shaking my head, I turned the knobs to start the water flow. With only the sound of spraying showerhead to distract me, I was able to stretch my wings in peace and think about the exercises.

Water was cleansing, both physically and spiritually, and magically grounding. I turned up the temperature and rolled my shoulders. Some of my... anxiety waned as my Zephyr gamboled about. Strong enough to manifest despite the water, their ghostly forms left wakes of sparkling droplets. I closed my eyes and for a moment let the weight of my experience of my past fall upon me, for once not evading the burden with endless present tasks and future schemes,

I was not always Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust. But, in all my lives, I was always plagued by death and false gods.

With some reluctance, I turned off the shower and stepped out. I was no longer alone in the shower room; several other early risers had joined me under the nozzles. It was good that I got in ahead of the rush. Drying put me in a contemplative mood. Though my air spirits tried their best to help by gusting about, mostly what they achieved was a spray of water. Admittedly, their gusty efforts did go some way towards fluffing up my wings and hair...

It was not their fault; their focus was mostly on my wings as they tried to dry each feather. I gave them points for trying to divide the work but their efforts were still far from any acceptable measure of efficiency. While they focused on my feathers, I was able to dry my tail unmolested. The emotive appendage was sometimes more troublesome than my horns and far more flexible. Still, proper appearance was a part of military discipline. That was why there were uniform and grooming standards, albeit said standards were a bit different compared to my previous military experience.

Besides, my Vs also liked it.

Satisfied, I put the used towels in their bin, quickly dressed, then went to an available mirror with a facecloth to finish my ablutions. Brushing my hair, I studied my reflection. I was still short, but not egregiously so. I was growing into a young woman.

A young demon. A young succubus, my inner countess purred in correction.

I put the hairbrush down and picked up a toothbrush. Dental hygiene was vital especially with fangs.

No denial? No paranoia? the voice in my head teased. I suppose we did manage to capture a baroness and ensnare our adjunct.

Glaring at my reflection, I then spit in the sink. "It was more of a mutual effort. We are a team."

Yes, especially after we burdened them with our secrets. Now, they are responsible. They are culpable. They will be part of the Archangel's schemes. Of DarkStar's return.

My eyes flashed with irritation. I brusquely packed up my toiletries then gave my uniform a final inspection.

Mind troubled, I exited the showers and went down the pale-green painted empty corridor and stopping on the white tiles, came to an intersection. The passage to my left led towards a mess hall, where even a colonial base would have coffee and food available at all hours. To the right was a set of doors and a colonnade concealing an approach to the chapel.

Shaking my head, I went to the doors.

Theologically-speaking, there was much I could respect about the Order of Our Revered Paragon. Adhering to the canon laid down at the Celeia Summit in year 603 of the Third Epoch, and functionally all of the Deuterocanon laid down in year 1402 of the same epoch, they were a mainline sect of the DarkStar Church

The key difference the Paragon sect had was that the emphasis of their veneration was of DarkStar the person, seeing her as an exemplar of virtues and deeds worthy of emulation instead of a near-deity to worship. As I stepped into the hushed chapel, I smiled.

It was a fine difference. All sects venerated DarkStar, but each emphasized a different aspect of Her. Asserting DarkStar was a goddess was the height of heresy.

And while some uncharitable sorts may feel my Order of Hallowed Lady may be too worshipful and deify DarkStar, at least we were not the morose and self-flagellating Martyred Lady who practically worshiped Her Holy Wounds.

In contrast to the gilded sanctuaries of some other sects, the Paragon chapel was almost solemnly plain with its neatly-dressed dark stone and air sweetened with just a whiff of incense, so faint as to nearly be a memory. A crisp white sheet embroidered in silver stars concealed the understated lines of the altar, the sacrificial table nothing more than a single block of polished stone. Above it stood a marble statue of DarkStar Triumphant, wings spread, left hand over her heart, and right arm outstretched in benediction towards the congregation.

Despite the early hour, a few colonial troopers and a handful of shippies from the Tarantula Hawk and the Spider Wolf were scattered across the scarlet-wood pews. The lights in here were hooded with colored glass shades, cutting the bulbs' harsh incandescence to something far more inviting and fitting for a place of reflection. Out through one set of tall, plain tinted-glass windows, I saw a view of the rest of the city; through the other, the landing lights and traffic of the landing pads and other aviation facilities.

To one side of the altar stood a small choir of Paragon Militant Order nuns in their ice-white habits, long wimples and silver veils. From the icons on their vestments, I recognized them as members of the Crimson Claws. They were singing a tri-part liturgy from the Book of Hubris, a mostly historical text that covered the early parts of the Invasion and events leading towards DarkStar's turning. Their voices echoed off of the stone pillars and draping banners.

Feeling somewhat out of place in my Legion Blacks, I strode forward, took a pew near the front, and bowed my head. The last of the tension eased from my shoulder blades and I felt my wings and tail relax.

It was peaceful.

Hands clasped, I was not alone in a crowd but one among a congregation. I was surrounded by others, each with their own worries and concerns. Many sought comfort in the familiarity, others reached out desperately for guidance and even absolution. But here, our unruly emotions were given vent and duly calmed by the magically soothing layout of the chapel and the singing of the Sisters.

The psychic furor of emotion grew less intense as people left in ones and twos. Eventually, the Sisters reached the end of their litany and their voices tapered off. In a whisper of fabric, they exited through the nave and left me alone.

I opened my eyes and looked up at the statue of DarkStar. Her arm was stretched out and, thanks to the subtly tailored proportions of the room and angling of the pews, it looked like I could lift my arm and clasp Her hand in mine.

"When you come back, do you even know what a mess you'll be walking into?" I asked in a whisper. "War clouds loom. I fear my last mission may have set the fuse for the Fourth Great House War."

I laughed quietly into the statue's stony face. "What would you make of the other Great House Wars, I wonder? The War of Reprisal? The Union War? All three thousand years of innumerable petty conflicts... Were you watching over us? Scripture is vague on that point. But you were born at the start of the Invasion and your death marked its end. Clearly, you knew the depths to which we could fall."

The stone was silent, Her carved face challenging me, challenging the entire Spine to rise above our base sinful nature.

"Easy for you to say," I murmured. "Being a role model is easy at a distance. But once you start meeting the people who look up to you, once you start being responsible for them..."

I clenched my hands.

Silence came back into the chapel as I studied the statue anew.

"It is good to see you," a familiar voice said as the Mother Superior approached and sat down next to me.

A diminutive woman almost an inch shorter than me, Humility HolyVeil radiated swirling religious fervor that accompanied her Zephyr. Curling ebony horns jangled with silver icons. I could see her blue features through the gauzy material of her veil.

"It's peaceful."

Her cobalt lips curled into a smile. "Peace... Well, you certainty aren't of the Martyred Lady."

"I would argue with you, Ma'am," I laughed. "But I have an old... friend who is a Sister in that order. And she's one of the more aggressive pilots I know."

HolyVeil shook her head. "Household Fleet?"

"Andromachin Flyvabnet Corps."

The Mother Superior nodded, her Zephyr attentive but quivering with energy. They clearly wanted to gambol and play but were willing to wait. "Well, we do have to be accepting of the other cultures, especially of our allies... no matter how foreign they are.

"Besides," she forced a smile, "I'm sure she venerates DarkStar as much as we do."

I held my tongue. This woman commanded a strike Squadron called Hammers of Heresy. It was just a bit rich hearing her preach tolerance.

Apparently, I didn't need to move my tongue to voice my skepticism. Tail flicking, the short fanatic chuckled. "Oh Sister, there are heretics, and then there are heretics."

"I... I suppose so."

"Ah, but we're not here to talk about doctrine or portents.. or are we?" The gossamer-thin demurity barely shrouded her prying, critical examination.

"Yes..." I took a moment, reorienting myself towards the omens and the ecclesiastical politicking of their interpretation. "Your order did send some representatives to the conclave on Mursam."

"Indeed; we could hardly do anything else. We are in momentous times, Sister,but alas, not just in terms of Her return," the Mother Superior looked up at the statue. "Though, I suppose she would have no reason to return during an idyllic time like the Golden Century."

"You've heard something," I stated, rather than asked.

"Sister," the Mother Superior chided, her eyebrow arching, "we may be a minor colony far from the border, but even we hear of Elenese schemes, Trosic aggression, and Luxon conniving."

"Hence our training exercises," I noted.

"Better to see which arrows strike true before our enemies blacken our skies," she sighed. "Yesterday's exercise demonstrated why we must carefully husband our limited resources, and that we need to better organize our dispersed caches."

"It was a challenging exercise." Freehold invested heavily in its defense, including establishing a network of scrying towers and concealed landing pads with fuel, parts, and munitions caches. All of these were kept moments away from activation, requiring only a handful of Ritualista and a few minutes to come alive. Most of the caches were fully equipped to field RP, serving as fallbacks for scattered survivors of formations or quickly scrambled second-wave elements, but a few were even large enough to conceal Hasta bombers.

The problem with the dispersed caches was the difficulty in keeping them hidden and supplied. Too much activity and the cache was vulnerable to foreign intelligence, while too deep in the mothballs undermined its functionality as a quick-scramble base. That each cache was geared towards supporting one or two specific elements also meant that any true emergency would require multiple activations to field a truly useful strike package.

"I see that logistical mind of yours calculating," the shorter nun said with a thin smile.

Tail flicking, I coughed. "Well, Ma'am, there is a lot to consider."

"Indeed. Hopefully we can get you to visit one of our nunneries," HolyVeil offered.

"A true nunnery or one of your order's air stations?" I inquired. Great Houses tended to frown on using certain religious and civilian assets for military purposes. The various Militant Orders were supposed to keep their combat assets separated from other ecclesiastic holdings. It was an imperfect system and ripe for potential abuse, but that described much of Diyu.

"Oh, both. We have integrated with the Colonial Air Corps for many of our satellite facilities and one of those chapter-houses up on Monmouth will be the base of the larger exercise in, ah, five days now."

"I have been looking forward to that one. I've never been to a moon before," I nodded, eager to share my enthusiasm with the Mother Superior. "Most exercises could be done relatively close to New Brigantium, even the ground training being done by our Legionaries, Auxilia, and local Freehold Rangers was conducted a couple hours flight from the capital."

But the bigger exercises, especially involving the Tarantula Hawk, Wolf Spider and the CAC's Bomber Wing of two dozen Hastas required far more open sky. And Freehold had volunteered Monmouth, their sparsely-populated larger inner moon. Though, compared to the airless rock that was the moon of Asbury, Monmouth was positively crowded. Without a gateway, the only practical way to Monmouth was by ship.

"It is a lovely place. There's some canyons that are breathtaking, especially when soaring above them. It is nice and quiet, but our small merchant fleet regularly teleports up there, mostly to supply the mines and some specialty crops that grow best up there, but we do have tourism as well," she said with a note of justifiable pride.

Living moons were relatively rare on the Spine. However, for our purposes Monmouth's relative remoteness allowed for privacy, and once the local forces transferred up, we could conduct large scale and private exercises. Lucia's Flight, or at least her, Milly, and Charity, were looking forward to taking some leave up there once all our training was done.

"Hopefully, the exercises up there won't have too many tricks," the Mother Superior said.

"Larger exercises are more about showing organizational capacity, stress testing response times, and command and control than particular tactical ferocity," I idly said then caught myself realizing who I was talking to.

The Mother Superior laughed. "Yes, it is important to make sure your novitiates can set up aid stations and field kitchens and that your comms are compatible with your allies. Fortunately our systems could still cross-talk with yours, but your Ritualista did have notes with ours about limitations and upgrades that we should 'strongly consider'. In training it makes for a funny story, after the yelling of the Brass Horns and the punishment details. In combat..." Her wings shrugged.

I shivered at that. "Battle is a teacher, and not a kind one."

A sympathetic pulse came from her. "Very much. And green horns need to get such fool ideas of glory out of their heads."

My gaze turned slightly to the warrior nun in the pew next to me.

"Oh I am well aware. We prefer veteran novitiates for a reason. Unseasoned Sisters end up being a bit too eager to meet DarkStar and end up dancing with the angels. But even they can have sense pounded into them. I suppose the Legions still use plenty of physical training."

That caused me to chuckle. Diyu Demons could be pushed harder than humans and our superior healing meant hoof-sloggers didn't need to worry about bad knees or backs after their term of service.

"Ah, I see you're getting more ideas, Ma'am," Visha said, entering the chapel. She wore a fresh uniform and smelled like she had also recently showered. "Mother Superior," she bowed to the nun.

"Primus Centurion Shadow. A pleasure." HolyVeil bowed her horns. "Do you need your Countess?"

"If it's not a great burden," Visha said in her best respectful adjunct tone and then bowed her horns again for good measure.

"My, so polite," HolyVeil chuckled. "Well, Sister DiamondDust, don't let me detain you."

"Thank you! See you at seven-hundred for the flight-line briefing for today's exercises." I gave a bow of my own, and left the Mother Superior to her prayers in the chapel.

Once back outside, I rolled my shoulders. "Anything on fire?" I asked.

Visha laughed, but not nervously so that was a good sign. "No, there's no emergency. We just found that you had..."

Tail swishing, I gave her a reassuring smile. "I couldn't sleep and decided to hit the showers early."

"And then decided on an early morning devotional?" she asked as we went back into the building.

"I needed a quiet spot to think."

Visha's tail flicked as she gave a slight nod. "The chapel would be that, once the singing was done. Still, you were in the first place I looked," she said walking with purpose down the pale-green corridor.

I wanted to pout at Visha's assumption that I would automatically gravitate to a church, but in the face of her evidence, the moment was inopportune. Instead, I changed the subject. "And where are we going?"

"The first place LoveBlood looked," Visha replied, looking back over her shoulder and wings. "It is good that you're taking well to your role as the liaison with the Paragon pilots, Ma'am."

"Oh the nuns are rather professional, all things considered. Many are veterans."

Amusement radiated from Visha as she tried to keep a calm face. "Well, that is very good to know," she carefully said as her wail wagged.

Keeping my dignity, I let her comment pass. "So, where did LoveBlood think to look?"

"Why, in the mess, of course."

I frowned. "So you two thought I would be getting coffee or praying?"

Visha gave me a saucy smile. "We had a hunch."

I managed not to pout as we went though the doors into the air station's mess hall. Rows of long tables of dark scarlet wood with matching benches took up most of the room. The far end had the glass-fronted food-service stations and behind that the kitchens. To one side was a set of large carafes with coffee and other beverages and baskets of snacks and a heating tray with wraps, sandwiches, and other leftovers.

The smell of baking bread came out from the kitchens, and the room had a few groups of people having early breakfast. However, it was easy to spot the table where LoveBlood was holding court.

Beyond my fiancee with her bold red hair, Lares was difficult to miss in his green Auxilia uniform, especially in contrast to Telum Prefect Centurion Landgrave Camillus in Fleet whites. Unbothered by whatever VioletBlood was saying, the Forest Person was dealing serious damage to a plate of cheese and sausage. There was another shippie and a Forest Person at the table, but the were at the opposite end from Lares and Camillus down with Octavia, GreyDawn, and the new pilot Janice BlackStar.

"Prefect!" VioletBlood got up from the table and met us by the entrance. "So good to see you. She was in the chapel?"

Tail swishing, Visha nodded a smirking acknowledgment.

The Baroness huffed. "Fine. I'll get you a bottle of the local gin."

"You were betting on where you'd find me?" I did not scowl at my Vs, but it seemed a bit... Ugh. I sighed. Soldiers gambled, would get into schemes, and this was harmless.

I waved it off. "Lots of people are up. Any trouble?" I quietly asked. An official emergency would come with alerts and sirens, but there were plenty of problems that might need discretion, and our ships were sponsored by Invidia and her clandestine associates.

VioletBlood shook her head. "If there was something that needed Lares and his boy's set of special skills, Primus Shadow would have told you first chance." Which was true, the Forest People's combination of subtlety and raw physical power made them highly in demand.

I nodded. "Then what?"

"Talking with them... I think some people didn't sleep very well last night," VioletBlood's eyes went back to the table.

On a closer look I could see that in addition to the expected coffee, or tea in Camillus's case, most were eating toast, porridge, or other stomach settling fare. "Milly's party?" I asked once again, glad that I did not drink.

"We did make sure no one drank to excess," Visha added, taking in my unstated reproach.

"And no one is hung-over, more... concerned. I don't think it's jitters about today's exercise. DarkStar's Blood, Camillus's talking over those golems of his, and the strangest part is, the thing's cheering him up.

"You're saying a good chunk of our squadron and a bunch of our team members were just struck by nerves?" I was about to ask where the rest of our Demi-Wing was, when I noted that the other tables did have a handful of people from the other three Squadrons, including Fabia and a couple of her Flight Leaders, and some of the Colonial Air Corps pilots and officers.

"Countess, why did you get up early?" VioletBlood quietly asked.

Despite it all, my first instinct was to deflect, but no, no more secrets with my Vs. Besides it was just the three of us by the doorway. "I... had a bad dream."

"Bad enough that you left your trauma accumulation medication out on the counter?" Visha asked, her voice a whisper.

Frowning, I idly squeezed my toiletries bag. Did it feel light? I must have forgotten to put the bottle back in. "It... wasn't the worst night. How about you two? You seemed peaceful enough when I left."

"We were, until we found you had wandered off without us." VioletBlood took my hand. "Countess, you can talk with us."

"I didn't think it was a big deal. I thought I just needed a shower and some time to think." Tail curling, I studied the mess hall and the anxious emotions. Something was off, something was missing. "No wonder the Mother Superior was talking with me."

VioletBlood looked at Visha who nodded. "Where's Tribune Quirinus then?"

"Probably talking with Invidia. Or maybe the local senior officers. That she hasn't called us to stations shows she doesn't have any hard intel." I swept the mess hall again. "Where's the Ritualista? If we're all up due to ill-omens and other nonsense then how come our maintainers aren't also up and anxious?"

Visha coughed delicately. "I went to the hangar before the chapel, that's why it took me so long to get to you. Centurion Gibbs has wangled a bunch of the Ritualista and they've been checking over our suits and making sure there's no haints or other bad spirits."

"Good, remind me to give her a good work for her initiative." I squared my shoulders. "Okay, I want some coffee and then we can talk with our pilots and friends and figure out if there's anything going on."

"Maybe we all got bad seafood at the restaurant Milly picked?" VioletBlood offered as she led me to the large coffee carafes that were near where our friends were sitting.

I shook my head. "No, Camillus had the hamburger steak. I remember that because the torpedo techies teased their fancy noble for having such a commoner meal. But that didn't stop him and the other shippies from enjoying the city's nightlife."

Trying to look innocent, VioletBlood gave me a sweet smile. "Maybe it was not the food, maybe it was something else. Perhaps those local guests, you know the Guilder and her... friends from Mard."

"They were polite enough," I said because that's what you say. It was true and that helped cover up the... unease of seeing how domineering the Guilder was with her companions. Given that those "companions" were painfully pleased with the arrangement, it made things go from a crime to...

Well merely another example of crazy demons.

"Hard for them not to be given how they were being kept," VioletBlood lightly said, her tone challenging. "I can't believe a... local could afford such baubles. A concubine is one thing but sirens..."

"Are you..."

"Oh no, I'd be a hypocrite if I objected to a male demon. I'm not classless tart," her words were a bit hot. "It's just... everything else. I wouldn't say they're depraved, we are all sex demons after all but... it was like seeing someone out of a capital drone hive club."

I got a bit hot at the collar. Our time in Silvana was very... educational. The city of trees was quite cosmopolitan in all the various... styles on display.

Tail flicking, Camillus calmly sipped his drink as he looked up at us. "I'm going to have to take the Baroness's side on this. I've heard Mard is overall lovely, but I've also heard that the Serpentine Hegemony is a... strange place. Far more caste-like than we are."

I couldn't help but snort at that. While Mard was the only major colony fully independent of the Great Houses, their world was also not unified. House Mard had to deal with a smattering of bickering lesser powers as well. The "Hegemony" was a grandiose title for a Minor House that was culturally-speaking far more incubus-leaning. It was an oddity and that caused...

"Surely, you don't believe all the rumors? The doll pageants? Nuns having veto power in their parliament? That they can breathe under water?"

Slicing some bread, Camillus chuckled. "Some of the rumors are true. They are very... flamboyant, but I am in no place to critique my fellow men for being fabulous. And their more charismatic and commanding citizens are quite... enchanting. Others, such as that they are not actually an offshoot of our kind of demon... that is baseless slander."

"I didn't even imply that," VioletBlood huffed. "Singular. They weren't both… the same sort of Siren.. it doesn't matter."

"Quite. I will admit that these particular sirens failed to attract me with their song," he sighed. "A shame, it really is rare to meet another incubus."

I felt a pang of sympathy for the Landgrave. Slender and pretty he might be, he was still a he, and lived in a society where almost everyone else was female. I had spent a life, a short one admittedly, living surrounded by people not of my gender and knew being seen as different could be isolating.

Camillus nodded to me and then to VioletBlood. "I don't think the Guilder's guests from Mard were the source of our disquiet, but I wouldn't say they helped."

"You know what they say about sailors and port cities. Though Freehold does seem to keep the streets very orderly for such an independent-minded place," VioletBlood said as we finally got our refreshments.

Pushing away thoughts on wealthy local eccentrics, I poured myself some coffee then helped my Vs get their own brew. Taking a sip, my tail flicked. Rumor was there were some native coffee plantations up by Freehold's equator a few hundred miles to the east. It made for a quite acceptable cup. I took another drink. Fresh beans were, apparently, inexpensive enough for the local military to purchase for general use.

I pulled out a couple turnovers which, despite being a bit stale from yesterday, were still quite tasty. LoveBlood led us back to her spot on the table and the others made room for us.

My Vs boxed me on either side. VioletBlood's tail wrapped around my side to pull me closer to her. Even Visha had scooted closer than normal. Even with our engagement, it was a bit forward, especially in front of subordinates. Octavia and Janice were looking on with shared amusement.

LoveBlood leaned over to whisper in my ear, "You don't have to leave our bed if you need comfort, my dear Countess; otherwise I think we will have to make sure you'll be more than comfortable." She pulsed her own affec- amusement between us.

Not blushing in reaction, I looked at the Telum Prefect Centurion, who sat across from me. The male-presenting Diyu demon bowed his horns to me, his large dark purple tail swishing. "Prefect Countess," the rather pretty, in a sharp, slender way, ash-blonde Landgrave drawled, giving a cocksure smirk at my predicament.

"So, Sir Camillus, beyond talking to the local's... 'guests'. Any issues with your new charges?"

"Ah no, the Stilettos are performing well, as you know," Camillus said with a confident grin. "But there's some teething issues coordinating them with the bombers. No, it's more that I felt snow falling upon my grave."

I raised an eyebrow, that particular idiom was a bit new to me. It was probably from the northern part of the Empire. "There seems to be quite a few feeling the same this morning."

GreyDawn looked thoughtful, but like my Vs she did not voice her suspicions, in public as we were.

"Same here. A nightmare about my wife and our broodling," Octavia held her cup in both hands. Her tail hung limp at the thought of being away from her family when they needed her.

"The last telegram from them said they were doing fine," I assured her before turning to GreyDawn "Any rumors about these ill-omens?"

My senior pilot chewed thoughtfully on her sandwich, paused, opened it up, poured a bit of garum onto the fried fish before resuming her rumination. "It's a bit early to tell, Ma'am."

I raised an eyebrow.

"There's a lot of scuttlebutt and rumors, but nothing immediate, not right now. We are a few jumps from the border with Trosier and Luxon," GreyDawn said.

"Your land holdings are in Eastern Province, yes?" Camillus asked me and VioletBlood while he stirred some sugar into his tea. "That's closer to the Luxon border on Diyu than we were here."

VioletBlood shrugged. "Luxon was conducting more exercises near the border up by Andromache and over the great Bazala Lake."

"And the last letter my parents sent did mention Trosier was being more aggressive in the Curae Sea," Visha said.

"My sister has heard a few rumors at her new job," Lares noted as he ate some cheese. He gave me a respectful nod. "Rumor is the border guards are seeing more speculative merchants crossing looking for trade goods."

"On the Andromachin or Luxon border?" the other Forest Person asked.

"More the Luxon side, I suppose," Lares shrugged.

"We've seen a bit of that," Prefect Centurion Zophia BurnSide of the Colonial Air Corps said as she strode up. With toned long legs ending in black hooves, emerald skin, sharp, strong features, piercing orange eyes, and silver hair cut into a Mohawk, BurnSide had a figure cut for recruiting posters. A worn brown leather jacket with squadron patches was draped over a dark blue flight suit. "Been a lot of sailors' tales coming in at the bars near the port. We're a few jumps from the border, but gossips will gossip."

"What's told in an Ium or Bononia tavern on the border will make its way to the Three Sisters in a week," Janice agreed.

"Your girl from Olivania is right." BurnSide said, having picked up my new pilot's accent. The CAC officer seemed a bit less standoffish. The Three Sisters loomed large over minor colonies like Freehold, but unlike us Diyu-born, they were all out here on the Spine.

Maybe it would have been better to have Fabia speak to her instead of myself.

"What rumors have you heard?" Camillus asked.

Tail flicking BurnSide blinked at him, but regained her composure. "Infighting and arms build ups, but internally directed," BurnSide said. She would have heard Camillus talking over comms, but the Landgrave's refined tenor was easy enough to mistake for a deep contralto.

I wondered if this was the Freeholder's first time seeing a male Diyu. Our natural bias was to assume a slender Diyu was simply a demoness taking a more masculine aesthetic. Honestly, I would have preferred such a style myself, but fate, and my Vs, had other ideas.

With the surprise over, BurnSide's smoldering eyes went over Camillus's form with a more frank appraisal and the colonial's tail swished with interest. "I have seen some incubae from an RP racing team that visited last year, but they were a bit coltish and skittish. I am happy to see that it is not universal."

"I do try," the Landgrave warmly said.

I shook my head. Crazy demons.

VioletBlood gave me a smug look, which I chose to not think too deeply on.

"Any Trosic rumors?" GreyDawn asked. "If you're hearing from sailors going through Ium. If they're Elena's cat's-paw that would be interesting to know."

"They are?" BurnSide asked, tearing her gaze from Camillus. "That would explain a few things."

"Cozying up to the Shellies is straining the Masks' relationship with our mercantile friends," VioletBlood sniffed.

Burnside laughed. "On Diyu does Trosier actually ride giant sea bugs on beach assaults?" she asked while accepting some cheese Camillus offered.

"That's not like... ceremonial or specialist units like our raptor riders?" Janice asked.

"Very real." Visha shook her head. "Trosier uses giant isopod-like creatures with strong natural armor for beach assaults. They are rather tough and even if killed make an obstacle and cover."

"Poor bugs," Octavia said.

"It can be a grim lot for them," Lares's companion agreed, his deep voice grave.

"Trosic doctrine does minimize their casualties by only landing after they have air power and indirect fire in place. Morality aside, those bugs take a while to grow to full size," I explained.

VioletBlood patted my hand

I coughed and accepted some of the toast Visha offered. "Centurion BurnSide, if it's no trouble could you give Signifier GreyDawn any notes you have? Or maybe some contacts."

"Oh, it's no problem at all," BurnSide agreed.

Tail flicking, GreyDawn sipped her coffee. If she had any issue with me giving her extra duties during a training mission, she kept that to herself. "Ma'am, perhaps Milly and Lucia can be brought in; they are good at socializing. They could take the merchant officers and I could work with the chiefs," she offered.

I shrugged, taking the mild deflection for what it was. "We can discuss the details. I don't want to step on anyone's hooves." Perhaps I was being too cautious. Even in a world with omens and military divination there were still ways to get unofficial channels. And I was still... skeptical of Invidia and her associates.

The conversation halted as we all turned to the doors.

"Ladies, no need to stand," Tribune Quirinus said as she strode into the mess hall and returned our salutes. "Today's exercise is canceled. I've given the recall orders for the Demi-Wing and the skippers of the Tarantula Hawk and Wolf Spider are recalling their crews as well."

My stomach clenched, and my spine chilled when I spotted Invidia. The CSR spook quietly stood behind Quirinus, her cold eyes tracking all of us.

"We got a flash priority over the Wheatstone wireless," the Tribune continued and my tension grew at the fear of exactly what emergency would require our ships to suddenly redeploy.

Emotions spiked in the crowd. There was the expected anxiety and a mix of fear, but there was also a leavening of resolution and, unsurprisingly, for such a bunch of crazy demons a note of eagerness. I detected a bit of jealousy coming off of BurnSide.

"Twelve hours ago on Radov's eastern continent, significant storms passed through their central greenbelts. The few local Tempestarii were overwhelmed and the storms continued. Flooding has become critical and local resources are swamped. Most of the cities are... okay, but there are a lot of farming communities that are just... gone," Quirinus explained while Invidia stood silently.

A bit of guilt burbled in my chest at the relief. I had worried that we would be thrown into combat. Disaster recovery was dangerous, but it was not like we would be shot at.

The other pilots also had a similar flip in their emotions as they nodded along. We all had different reasons for our oaths to the Imperatrix, but most of us were Legionary Fliers and it was drilled into us that our purpose was to help the poor bloody hoof slogger. That wasn't fair, I thought, catching the Landgrave's stern expression. He's wearing Fleet Whites, and Lares and his friend are in Auxilia green. We all serve the Imperatrix, and this was a chance for us to help her citizens, our citizens.

"As we are just one jump away from Radov, our two ships will be coming in to provide search and rescue. We have some VTOLs, a lot of recon, and in a pinch RP can evacuate people. We'll load up with supplies in our limited cargo hulls, but dedicated cargo ships will be following shortly," Quirinus explained.

I nodded, considering the colonies next to Radov. In addition to Freehold, help would be coming in from Olivania as well. New Lentia, Mursam, and Urik could also send assistance but they were two jumps away. All of those worlds had gateways.

"Since you're all here, get enough breakfast for your Fliers and Ritualista, send runners, wake everyone up, and start packing." Quirinus stated as she went to the coffee station and poured herself a cup.

"We'll have a full briefing once we're in the air and charging for teleport." Taking a drink, she gave Invidia a stiff nod.

The two left the room.

Silence grew. BurnSide stood and adjusted her jacket. "I'll... go and see what the mess cooks can pull out of the ovens for you. There's got to be some bread that you can have early."

"Search and rescue then," I said, putting down my breakfast pastry. "GreyDawn, take Octavia and Janice, get a headcount, and interface with the other Squadrons. See if anyone is missing, with or without leave. Shore Patrol will be busy taking care of the shippies, and we'll have dozens of RP caskets to load back onto the ships.

"Yes, Ma'am." GreyDawn stood, any thoughts on her previous orders shoved aside.

The tables rapidly emptied as everyone was given orders.

I turned to my Vs. "Everyone's gonna be in a rush, so I want you to double-check the headcount and inventory for the entire Squadron."

"You're expecting trouble?" VioletBlood asked, giving both of us meaningful looks.

"It's not experience talking, but even without the ominous portents, a SAR mission is no joke and will stress your pilots. They will be seeing a lot of people, people like their friends and family lost, frightened, and worse." I exhaled.

"We'll do everything we can." Visha took my hand.

End Chapter 5 of Book 3


Again apologies for the delay. I had travel and a few other things but in good news chapters 6 and 7 have been written and I've started working on chapter 8 and a bit more on the aforementioned Dresden Files Dreamland project


Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , WhoWhatWhere, PonKatt, ScarletFox, and Lisafication for checking and editing this whole work and putting in all the effort to clean up the story. Special Thanks to Scarlet Fox for the chapter title, to 3fallin for helping with the Serpentine Hegemony, and the LD discord for all their help in developing the story.

 

[RogueInquisitor]

I'm feeling like that storm wasn't entirely natural. Seems like a great way to pull a bunch of important assets out of position, dispersed over a wide AO, and not expecting violence. But maybe I'm just paranoid.