Steel In The Blood
---
Author's Notes: Okay, here comes more: and any IK / WarMachine players will recognise one of the characters introduced this chapter... here's to hoping he doesn't cause too much chaos. :D
---
Three
Runeplates
---
Corvis was far bigger than Kasmira had ever expected: it was the jewel of Cygnar, supposedly the jewel of Immoren, but she had never expected it to be this big. It was certainly as big as Korsk, the capital of Khador, but she'd only been there once. And she knew that the Cygnarans didn't favour engineering as… solid… as that of Khador. Her father is up ahead, bargaining with a street hawker for a couple of pies – his previous experience with the city telling. She idles, looking around at the crowds and houses.
"It is certainly as dirty…" she mutters in Khadoran, forgoing Cygnaran in the hope that she won't offend someone on her first day in the capital.
"You bitch!" Kasmira looks up, her first thought being, Someone does understand Khadoran around here… then realises that the insult was not directed at her. In fact, it was yelled by the man who is now hanging from a second-storey window above her, and addressed to the woman who is currently lining up a pistol shot on him.
"Holy Menoth –" the oath slips out unheeded, and she moves closer, curiosity getting the better of her, just as the man swears and launches himself outwards.
The next few seconds are confused as Kasmira looks up, the man falls, he lands on her with a crashing thud, and there is confused and wounded swearing from all quarters.
Kasmira regains her senses and her feet at the same time, with a helpful heave from the unknown man. "Come on, darlin', out of the way of –" the shot over Kasmira's head makes it quite clear what the man is apprehensive about, and the teenager hustles with him under the veranda of another building.
Under the overhang, she catches a breath, and looks at the unknown. He is tall, with black hair (greying at the temples) and a lean frame, and he wears a blue greatcoat. Kasmira gasps, recognising the greatcoat: gold edging and a pair of blue-painted shoulderplates with brass edging, one with the Cygnaran swan and one with a pair of wing shapes. Her guess is proved correct as the man flicks a quick salute and grins jauntily. "Lieutenant Allister Caine, at your service, miss."
The first question out of Kasmira's mouth is the most obvious. "Why're you being shot at?"
The answer is quick and accompanied by a cheeky smile. "Just a wee domestic dispute, love. Don't worry, I'll talk her around…"
"You'll what, Allister?" The man is interrupted by an icy voice. The two turn to see a gorgeous blonde lining up a pistol at Allister Caine's head.
"Ah… Cecily." The man's manner is suddenly a lot grimmer, and he gently grasps Kasmira's shoulder and pushes her away, clearly out of the line of fire. The woman grins cynically over at her, then back at the lieutenant, and there is a brief explosion.
The cloud of acrid smoke clears to reveal a small hole in the deck of the veranda. "Don't worry, Allister, shooting you with so many witnesses would be a very bad idea." Before he can reply, she steps forward and slaps him hard. "Goodbye."
The lieutenant watches her stalk off down the road, rubbing his cheek. "Oh well, at least she didn't kill me," he shrugs. Then he turns to Kasmira, the jaunty grin slightly spoiled by the large red handprint that is fast appearing on his face. "Thanks for the landing, darlin'," he says, and steps forward, quickly sliding an arm around her waist, tilting up her chin with the other, and delivers a very deep and very adept kiss to her lips.
There is a shout of rage as he moves back, and Kasmira turns in his arms to see her father storming across the veranda towards them. "No, Father, he –" she begins, desperate to get the charming lieutenant out of trouble, but Allister grins down at her, "Don't worry, love, don't explain." He drops another kiss on her lips, and with a quick salute, disappears into the crowd.
Ivdan stands beside his daughter, fuming and searching the crowd for the blue greatcoat, but can't see it. Eventually he growls in frustration and turns to his daughter. "Now, Kasmira, this is why I was warning you about Army men," he begins, in Cygnaran (for the benefit of gaping onlookers), but his daughter cuts him off. "Don't worry, Father, I won't go looking for trouble." I won't, but he'll find me…
---
Ivdan is still fuming when they walk down one of the minor lanes in the artisan's quarter. It is a tangle of workshops and houses, acrid steam and smoke curling up to mix with the smells of cooking and bathwater. Kasmira avoids her father's gaze, instead looking about for a certain sign. Her grandfather had run a workshop about here – at least, that was what her father said – and they were hoping he still did.
She spots a strange sigil of a mechanik's wrench and a set of mechanikal arms in a six-pointed star configuration, and quickly taps her father on the arm. "Is that it?" He nods silently, and they move through the thin crowd to the door over which it hangs.
The door of the mechanik's garage is open, but the opening is mostly blocked by a large crane-fitted steamjack, so Kasmira instead goes to the small, man-sized door set beside it. Ivdan halts his daughter with a hand on her shoulder, saying, "I shall do this, Kasya," takes a deep breath, and opens the door.
The door swings, creaking slightly, and opens to reveal a large garage, several slightly cluttered workbenches around the edges. A man is bent over one, and straightens as the door creaks open. He has a pointed grey beard, the weatherbeaten face of someone who had spent a lifetime in the outdoors, and wears a beaten-up leather coat and apron. "We're not open…" he begins, then halts, his expression changing to one of anger.
"You!" The old man's fists are raised as he comes towards Ivdan. "You stole my daughter! You took her away to some godsforsaken place in Khador! You –" He halts as Kasmira enters after her father, outlined in the light of the doorway.
"Ashla?" His voice wavers a second, then he sees the hair is black, not blonde, and his voice grows angry again. "You're not Ashla."
"No. I am her daughter, though." Kasmira's voice is quiet and certain, mimicking as closely as she can the calm tone she remembered her mother using. The old man's jaw drops briefly, shock running over his face, his eyes flickering between Ivdan and Kasmira, and then he spits out, "Why are you here?"
Ivdan's voice is calm in the face of the other man's anger. "Firstly… to introduce your only granddaughter to you. Secondly… to tell you of Ashla's… my wife's… your daughter's… death." His voice shakes slightly, his head bowing, and Kasmira gently places a hand on his arm.
"My Ashla's… she's dead…?" The old man staggers back, leaning hard against the workbench, sinking his head in his hands. "Ash…? Why did you defy me? Why did you leave…? Why did you die…?" Harsh sobs are wrenched out of him, and he sinks down, shaking the workbench as he collapses against it. An arcane condenser shudders on the edge of the bench, threatening to fall, and Kasmira leaps forward, grabbing it before it falls.
The old man looks up, distracted by the flurry of movement, and sees Kasmira with the condenser cradled gently in her arms. "Oi, you put that down, it's…" he begins, staggering to his feet, then sees the swirls of excess magic in the condenser's prongs gently swirling around Kasmira. The teenager looks up, blue and gold magic swirling about her arms as she gently places the condenser back on the bench. She pats the condenser, "Come on, now, back where you were," she says, addressing the magics directly. With a slow, reluctant sliding, the shimmering streams return to the condenser.
She looks up at the old man, seeing a sudden smile on his lips, despite the tears on his cheeks. "You really are her daughter. You really are Ashla's daughter," he says, and with another choked sob, steps forward and grabs her in a solid bear-hug. "Welcome home. Welcome."
---
The next few weeks, Kasmira spent becoming familiar with Brunner Helstrom's garage. Her grandfather was rather picky as to where his tools were placed, but once the teenager understood where everything belonged (and why it belonged there), she was quite comfortable with mucking about in the place. She took on some of her grandfather's workload, repairing pieces of 'jacks that he either had not had the time to work on.
Her father was still uncomfortable with the place, preferring to go out to find work. Soon, he was talking of leaving with a Mercenary company as the company mechanik. Kasmira just smiled at this, knowing that her father had discovered a preference for the road in the first few weeks after leaving their Khadoran hometown. Eventually, he decided to leave with Gorten Grundback and his 'jacks. He'd apparently been looking for a new mechanik for a while, and Ivdan fulfilled his requirements well. His promise to his daughter to return as often as he could was met with a smile and a laugh, and the assertion not to leave a good job just because he was worried about her.
With plenty of 'jacks and mechanika to repair, and a new city to get to know, Kasmira barely noticed six months pass. By the time her nineteenth birthday passed (with little notice), she had a strong Corvis accent, knew the city reasonably well, and had made a gaggle of new friends – young mechaniks like herself, a few of the University's students, a couple of Army trenchers, and a few of the gobbers that liked to hang around the garages. And of course, Allister Caine made life interesting when he came on leave every couple of months – at least, after one little detail had been cleared up.
---
A pair of blue-clad arms slide around Kasmira's waist, and she straightens, putting down the spanner she had been using, and turned in the arms, looking up to see a grinning face.
"Er… Lieutenant Caine, wasn't it?" she asked, recognising the man from her first day in Corvis. She'd discovered considerably more about the man – including the fact that he was a warcaster – since then, mainly due to scandalous rumours.
"Yes, darlin', but you can call me Allister." He grins lopsidedly, and drops a kiss on her lips. He doesn't have time to enjoy it, as Kasmira pushes him away the moment their lips contact. Her voice is stern, and her face frowns at the man's impertinence. "If you're intendin' to romance me, Lieutenant, then you're in for a hard time about it. But if you want to be a friend, then I have no problems with that."
Caine's eyebrows shoot up, and his expression shows shock – and, to Kasmira's surprise, embarrassment. "Ah…" he looses his hands from about her waist, and steps back. "Sorry… I thought…"
Kasmira jumps in on his uncertainty, wanting the situation straight from the start. Unconsciously, she has picked up her mechanik's wrench, and now she taps it with her fingers, rather forebodingly. "You didn't think, didya? Let me make this clear: I'm not some cheap whore to be laid 'n paid, and I'm not some lady to be romanced. So ya got one choice: accept me as a friend, and nothing else."
The man's mouth works up and down for a few seconds, then a slow smile spreads across his face – a real, genuine smile, not the rakish grin he generally sports – and he bursts into laughter. Kasmira casts him an icy glare, and he chuckles harder at that. "Y'know, I think that'd be good. Don't have many friends… and I think you'd be a good one."
Kasmira nods at this, a smile starting on her lips. "Friends?" She sticks out her hand, and the warcaster grasps it firmly. "Yup. Wanna go out for a drink?" The mechanik frowns across at the mess of parts on the workbench. "I suppose the mechanika can wait a couple of hours…"
A quick stroll through the streets of Corvis leads the pair to a sturdy building, marked as 'The Sapphire'. Allister nods up at the sign. "It's a popular place for Army, got a good reputation… didn't think you'd want to go somewhere dodgy." He grins lopsidedly at Kasmira's raised eyebrow. "Can't let a friend have anythin' but the best."
They enter the bar – it is a homely place with whitewashed walls, great wooden pillars and beams for the roof, warmly lit by numerous lanterns. Groups of men and women – most wearing some permutation of Cygnaran Army uniform – are scattered about the room at tables and booths. One of a tableful of gun mages (in the uniform of the Arcane Tempest) waves at Caine, gesturing the two arrivals in. They stroll over, and Caine filches a couple of chairs from a nearby table, setting one straight and gesturing to Kasmira to take a seat.
"A ladyfriend, Caine?" asks one of the gun mages, eyeing her up, his eyes dwelling on the oil smudges on her face and coat. He is blonde, younger than Caine, and wears a Captain's mark on his shoulder. A smile briefly flickers across Kasmira's lips as she remembers a couple of tales that had explained why Caine didn't have the selfsame marks on his shoulder.
Caine flicks another lopsided grin at Kasmira. "Nah, she's just a friend." Eyebrows around the table shoot up, and the Captain voices what everyone else is thinking, "Just a friend? Caine, since when is a woman ever 'just a friend' to you?"
"Since she makes it very clear, with aid of her wrench, that she ain't desirous of anythin' else. I do believe the words were, 'I'm not a whore to be laid 'n paid, and I'm not a lady to be romanced'." A pair of half-embarrassed, half-conspiratorial grins are shared between Kasmira and Caine. There is a long, stunned silence as the rest of the table digests this information, then roars of laughter ring out across the room.
One of the gun mages calms his laughter enough to ask, "So who's this girl that's got Allister Caine respectin' her?"
"I'm Kasmira Mekevich," she replies, smiling at their amusement. All of a sudden, the laughter dies, and one of the other gun mages repeats, "Kasmira Mekevich? You Khadoran?" Hands begin to move off the table, to holsters, and some begin to rise, threatening.
Looking around at the grim faces, all of a sudden, Kasmira realises what she has just implied. A horrified look crosses her face, and she leaps to her feet, waving her hands placatingly, babbling out explanations as fast as she can. "No, I'm not Khadoran – well, I am kinda – my mother was Cygnaran, Father's Umbrean – I'm living with my Grandfather here – he's Brunner Helstrom – oh, Menoth…"
"Helstrom? Brunner Helstrom?" one of the gun mages frowns down at her. "He said something about a granddaughter from Umbrey. An' if you're related to the captain of the Guard…"
"You know Grandfather?" Hope flicks across Kasmira's face. "Yes, I'm from Umbrey, I just came here about – oh, six months ago – that day that you fell on me, Lieutenant, that was my first day in Corvis." She looks down at Caine, who is still seated.
Shock, disbelief, and laughter flicker across Caine's face, and eventually laughter wins out over the other two. "Morrow, that was your first day in Corvis? Must'a made quite an impression!" He bursts into full-throated laughter, and the rest of those at the table stare at him as if he has grown another head.
"I want to make sure that you are who you say you are," the Captain ignores Caine's hilarity, his eyes boring into Kasmira, and he reaches into a pouch at his waist, picking something out. Kasmira has no time to see what it is before the Captain's voice becomes curiously warped, "I suggest that you tell us what your full and completely true story is, with no omissions or additions."
Kasmira nods dumbly, a blank fog over her mind. She hears her voice reciting her story, and internally she yells at it to be quiet, that that information is too personal, but to no avail. She cannot stop the flow of words, the swirls of magic binding her to saying it. Ten minutes later, she finishes, and suddenly her mind is her own again.
The Captain is nodding, "Very well, Kasmira Mekevich… Though I think it would be a good idea to go by a different name in Corvis." He sticks out a hand, "Pleased t' meet ya. I'm Lon Darbeck."
Kasmira nods, shaking his hand and grinning wryly. He hadn't been malicious, just paranoid, and she couldn't hold it against him. "Pleased to meet you. And I'll keep the name in mind…"
"So, Kas, about that drink I promised you…?" Caine interrupts, plumping a beer mug down in front of her. The shortened name prompts a raised eyebrow from Kasmira, but she takes a drink anyway.
One of the gun mages, now smiling, asks, "So, Kasmira, if your introduction to Corvis was Allister Caine falling on you, why did you stay?", which prompts ribaldry and teasing, and Kasmira smiles at the now-comfortable group. I could get to like this.
---
Yes, that was Suggestion that the Captain used. And is anyone happy that I just introduced the bad boy of the Iron Kingdoms to my story:P
More wanted?