Barrau de Gast, Captal and commander of all Gasceaux regiments on Haikk Four, prepares for his Chevauchee operation. Unfortunately, he is drawn into a dangerous and volatile stand-off between his forces and the men of Krieg. However, as with everything, there is more to the story than it initially seems...

Barrau de Gast was a bit of an oddity in the ranks of the Third Corps. He was nominal commander of two regiments, but did not really lead either of them. Edmund, Prince of Gasceaux, had brought him along to lead the two fully Gasc regiments under his command as a ceremonial head, as having a Gasc in charge of his kin was a way to soothe the quickly defended pride of the region. As Captal, his honorary title and rank, he now sat with his two regimental commanders, his nephew Bohemond de Gast and Guilhem de Poimian, enjoying lunch. He needed this distraction, having spent the better part of two days preparing Bohemond's regiment to begin the raiding, rapine, and possible slaughter that Edmund had ordered for his Chevauchee. Being they were the first to move, they had to set a high standard, or more accurately, do a job so well that anyone after them would seem disappointing.

"Old joke, sénher," Guilhem said. "Bishop visits church. Woman complains that the priest in her town is a wastrel. Bishop says, "I know this man, he would never indulge in the flesh! Cease your slander!" Bishop leaves and continues around the towns. Comes back a few months later. Woman approaches him again, smiling, with a large belly. She tells him the priest is the father, and he cannot deny it. The Bishop says, "But I know your priest, he would never touch a woman!" Woman smiles and says " I was dressed as a choir boy!"

The three burst into laughter, loud enough that even the guard outside the tent looked in, worried someone attacked his charges. Barrau took a gulp of wine, his other hand grabbing the cheese and ham on offer.

"Chelmster wouldn't like that one," he said, still giggling at the joke.

"I think that jokes older than the Emperor," Bohemond sniggered.

"Ah, the old jokes still get me. You would think I would've been mature by forty-five, but I have failed gracefully."

"And we love you for it, sénher."

"Now, I got a good one. So there's a girl, marries a man who puts out fires…"

He was interrupted by the sound of horses outside, quickly followed by a panicked conversation. Suddenly three men at arms in quartered blue and red uniforms walked in. They were identical to the average Anglerre guardsman, but had special permission to have the Gasc white lion in the blue quarters, identifying them as Gasceaux troops.

"My Lord, you need to come with us immediately."

De Gast quickly sprang up.

"Are we under attack?"

"No my lord, it's one of your nephews, he's gotten into a right mess."

"Which one?"

Like many Gasceaux nobility, he had a brood of a family, having thirteen nephews alone, seven of which were with him on this campaign.

"Bertucat."

"Damn it, he's the only one who's stayed out of trouble. Take me to him. Squire! Get my saddle on Quiteria and follow me! Bohemond, Guilhem, return to your regiments, I fear our lunch is over."

Ten minutes of hard riding later, the Captal found his nephew, sword drawn, pointed at-

"Fucking Kriegers," he muttered. Of course. If anyone would cause problems with his men, it would be them.

Fifteen gas-masked men, rifles at the ready, were facing ten in red and blue, and one in shining power-armor, obviously Bertucat, fifteen years old and already a knight.

"What the fuck is going on here!" the Captal screamed not only at the Kriegers, but his nephew and his Guardsmen as well. As bad as Edmunds infamous temper was, Barrau's was apocalyptic. He already struck an imposing figure even without armor, sitting atop his massive golden-haired destrier Quitiera, but now he was angry. Beyond angry, he was absolutely furious.

He noticed there was a terrified woman between the two groups, a dead Krieger with a crossbow bolt sticking from his chest. He looked to see four crossbowmen aiming right at their supposed comrades. The Krieger in charge, judging by his crested helmet and gorget, was the first to respond.

"Lord Colonel! That man, the one without a helmet, has committed treason and killed one of his fellow men! Execute him immediately! And tell your men to stand down or there will be more executed!"

"Don't you FUCKING tell me what to do you Emperor-damned SHIT-KICKER! Bertucat, you better have a good reason your swords drawn at them, or I will kick you so hard in the ass I'll break the atmosphere and send you flying back to Gasceaux!"

Bertucat de Gast, for all his youth and inexperience, could take his uncle's rage much better than most, barely flinching at his screaming.

"Uncle, these men were attempting to burn that woman on a stake! Garrad over there confronted them about it, and that one right there tried to bayonet him! Self-defense! Get these gas masked zombies away from us!"

"EVERYONE PUT YOUR FUCKING WEAPONS AWAY BEFORE I GET MY KNIGHTS TO RUN YOU ALL DOWN!"

The two groups nervously watched the other make the first move, before Bertucat swung his sword in its scabbard with a dramatic twirl. His men lowered their weapons and looked to the Captal. The Kriegers followed suit, but stared emptily through gas mask lenses at their opponents. Shuddering in fury, Barrau finally took a few breaths and calmed down.

"You, Garrad, was it? Get over here. Now."

The helmless Guardsman moved over to the Captal, his eyes focused on the Kriegers. He cradled the crossbow, the famous weapon of the Gasceaux marksmen, specially trained from youth to wield these impressive weapons, silent and armed with a variety of bolts, some types able to even pierce Astartes power armor, but those were hideously expensive and rarely deployed. A basic bolt easily pierced the flak armor of the Krieger. He only took his eyes off his former targets when he was next to the Captal, looking up to his mounted commander.

"My Lord?"

"What exactly happened here?"

"That woman over there is a local. She was trying to come to our lines. Me and my squad over there, your nephew included, were escorting her back to camp. The Krieg boys over there said she was to be executed. By burning. She was a heretic, they said. One of them got his hands on her and tried to pull her to their group. Said she deserved no mercy."

He looked back at the bolt-impaled corpse.

"I disagreed."

The Captal sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Lieutenant, under what authority did you think killing a defector was acceptable?"

The Krieger officer stiffened.

"Lord Colonel, these people have turned from the Emperor's light. They deserve nothing but a heretic's death."

"The Prince and Lord Marshal has ordered us to accept any defectors or loyal people of the Imperium fleeing persecution by the rebellious forces of this planet!" he yelled, before slamming his gloved fist on his saddle pommel and barking orders. "All of you, leave! This woman is in my care until I figure out what is going on. Dismissed! Garrad, you come with us!"

Barrau nudged his horse towards the woman.

"Are you all right?" he gruffly asked.

She looked up at him, still terrified, and nodded. Offering a hand, he hauled her up onto his saddle, and motioned his guard to follow him.

XXXXXX

An hour or two later, Barrau de Gast was sitting back in his tent, guards posted all around on high alert, with Garrad and the young woman he saved sitting near him. He was now wearing his armor, as was befitting the techno-medieval world of Anglerre, a basic form of power armor that looked the same as the ancient plate and mail of his Terran ancestors. He kept his helmet off, trying to think what to say.

"My Lord, the Krieger's wouldn't seriously come for us, would they? We're under your protection," Garrad said, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Guardsman, they are capable of anything. I sent a rider out to get Edmund to intervene, but until then, you both need to shut up and be invisible. What's your name, madam?"

The woman jumped, startled by the attention suddenly put on her.

"A-Aisha, my lord."

"Forgive my lack of proper welcome for a guest, Aisha. I normally am a much more welcoming host, but current circumstances are rather difficult," he said with a smile.

He was trying to ease the two into something normal, mostly to keep them aware of any danger, and to calm himself. He wouldn't show it, being a knight of Anglerre and Gasceaux, but he was absolutely terrified of starting an inter-regimental incident. On the other hand, he couldn't sit and let one of his men, especially one in the right, get killed by some rulebook-humping lunatics.

"My Lord, if you need me, my crossbow is ready."

"I appreciate the offer Garrad, but your crossbow is what got us into this mess. As I said, stay quiet-"

He heard the thudding of boots on turf outside, and cut his speech short. He motioned for the two to stay and headed to the tent flap. He was greeted by a familiar and not too unwelcome sight.

"Commissar Fulk. What a surprise. I trust you are here to help cool this situation down?"

Fulk, one of the Gasc regimental commissars, was considered a harsh, but very fair one. He looked grim and more than a little worried.

"Actually, I'm here to warn you. The Kriegers are, to politely put it, unhappy. Worse, they've recruited Lucan into this mess."

De Gast grimaced and spat.

"Why aren't they bringing their own commissar? "

"Commissar Demeter is with the Bishop of Chelmster at the moment. I think he had another breakdown."

"Someone should inform the Commissariat to move him to a regiment not filled with mute, emotionless, suicidal men."

"No argument, but I'm not volunteering for that shit."

"Ha! I take it Lucan and his new friends are on their way?"

A chorus of catcalls, insults, and other noises rose from the outskirts of the Captals camp, answering his question. He readied himself, motioning for his household guards to prepare as well.

"I take it you'll stand with me Fulk?"

"I'm responsible for one of your regiments, and frankly, giving Lucan a black eye is not something I'll pass up."

"Good man," de Gast said as he finally saw a group of about fifteen Kriegers and one gaudily dressed officer.

Dimitry Lucan, Commissar of the 353rd Cadian Regiment, thorn in the side of anyone unfortunate to get in his path, and most likely candidate for their next Corps-level Commissar, strode up to the two with the swagger of a man with self-importance, warranted or unwarranted.

"Commissar Lucan! What do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Lucan sneered at him.

"Cut the niceties de Gast, you are protecting a heretic and a traitor. The men of Krieg were in the right to detain that woman, and that Guardsman is a murderer of his own comrades."

"The man who was killed was out of line. We are under orders to accept any willing to join the Emperor's light in the form of our armies. She was protected by Royal writ."

"And you, de Gast, should be reminded that the Imperium tolerates neither heretics or traitors. And I, as a commissar, believe I know more about the imperatives and rules of our cause more than you. Corporal, take two men, seize and secure."

Three Kriegers moved past de Gast and Fulk, who watched as they moved to the tent. Two knights of Gasceaux, sworn to protect the Captal and his property quickly blocked their path.

"In the name of the Commissariat, you will move!" Lucan yelled.

The two knights stood firm, their power armor, covered by surcoats bearing the de Gast heraldry of a gold chevron on light blue, three small white lions rampant in the chevron, completed by helms that hid their faces. A nervous standoff began, with the Krieger corporal finally making a move, signaling the two Guardsmen to head in and detain the two inside. The knights responded quickly, one lowering his sword and decking his opponent flat on his back with a gauntleted fist before holding his sword at the Kriegers throat, the other deftly swinging his own weapon to knock the Lasgun out of his targets hands, then pointing his sword at the hapless man's heart. The two Kriegers held up their hands in surrender as their corporal stopped pulling his own weapon, realizing two previously hidden crossbowmen were aiming straight at him.

Soon the entire Krieger force was ready to fire their weapons, Lucan aiming his Bolt pistol at the Captal. It would have been a masterstroke of forcing him to stand down, if he wasn't in the heart of a Gasc camp. De Gast and Fulk had drawn swords, ready to move and strike down their opponents. The Krieg officer accompanying Lucan, the same who had confronted Garrad and his comrades earlier, finally spoke with a hint of distress.

"We're surrounded, Commissar. Crossbowmen, knights, men-at-arms."

Lucan frowned and kept his aim on the Captal.

"I heard from Borricelli that Gasc's were a very loyal bunch. If only they were as loyal to the Emperor and the Imperium as they were to you."

De Gast smiled.

"And I heard from Edmund you're a sniveling cunt."

The commissars face twitched, and it seemed as if all hell was about to break loose when trumpets blared and the sound of hooves thundered towards the stand-off. The two had opposite reactions to the noise, de Gast, joy that Edmund had finally answered his desperate call to aid, and for Lucan, annoyance that once again the Anglois Prince had interrupted him. The two were thus surprised to see the twenty or so knights and serjeants wearing surcoats and bearing a banner with a gold cross on a black background, led by a short man with raven black hair and piercing gray eyes. The group rode in between the Captal and the Kriegers, every one but their leader having their weapons drawn.

"One day, Captal, I will ride into this camp and not find you in some sort of trouble. And you commissar, must have a very poor sense of situational awareness to threaten a man in the middle of his own regiments."

"You know me, Robert. If I'm not fighting, I'm chasing after some noble's wife or dueling another young stud with too much pride," de Gast said with barely concealed relief.

"Lord D'Uxford, you see the hostile actions that the Captal has taken against his own comrades! You have to take command and punish these men, or at the very least, make them stand down and let mine finish their duty!"

D'Uxford nodded at this and swung his leg over his saddle, dismounting in a smooth motion. As he did so, Gasc and Krieger alike lowered their weapons and seemed to calm themselves a bit.

"Captal, commissar, and you, lieutenant. Come with me. Please."

De Gast, Lucan, and the Krieger officer all cautiously moved away from their men to follow the Royal Councilman into the Captals tent.

The four entered to find Garrad pointing a loaded crossbow at the entrance, and quickly readied himself to fire, not recognizing D'Uxford at first.

"Back off, or the last thing you'll feel is steel in your gut."

The woman was behind him, hiding among some strategically placed furniture. De Gast motioned the man to lower his crossbow as the three followed D'Uxford, not even bothered by the threat to his life. He stopped in the middle of the tent, craning his neck and quizzically looking at the young womans less than ideal hiding spot as Garrad realized who had been aiming at with more than a bit of fear.

"M, it's me. You're safe now."

The woman slowly stood up, and much to de Gast and Garrads surprise, she turned into another person in an instant. She stood taller, moved with purpose, and her face turned to one of grim determination.

"My Lord, I wish to report that other than this unfortunate misunderstanding, my mission was a success."

"Excellent. The maps and other files?"

She moved her hand through her shirt, seemingly fondling her breast before pulling out a small bottle.

"Picts of the defenses, recently updated street maps, and even a layout of the main qasr. Get this to R and his forces as soon as possible. It will be of great use to them," she said methodically, tossing the bottle that D'Uxford caught with quick reflexes.

The four other men in the tent gaped in surprise. Garrad was the first to speak.

"She's one of yours!"

"Correct, Garrad Rubere. And I do thank you for protecting her, but I don't appreciate being aimed at."

He was about to ask how the Councilor knew his name, but all men in Third Corps spoke in whispers of Black Bob, the spymaster and hidden force behind the Prince, who knew all, saw all, and kept all in his machine-like mind. The commissar spoke next.

"So this woman was not a heretic?"

"No, you fool," D'Uxford said like a man explaining simple things to a child. "She is one of my finest agents, who was returning from a mission she had completed well beyond expectation. But then… what exactly happened, M?"

The young woman frowned and nodded.

"I had evaded enemy patrols and had met up with a group of Gasc's, including Garrad. I told them I was a simple peasant woman, trying to evade rebel forces. I was hoping to return to our garrison, disappear or get taken away to the Princes headquarters, debrief and start my next mission. But then-" she shot a vicious glance at the silent Krieger officer, "We were intercepted by a group of Krieg Guardsmen, who tried to execute me for simply being a fleeing civilian. Thankfully I was saved by this man and his commander, the Captals nephew, and then the Captal himself."

D'Uxford nodded and turned to the three behind him.

"Excellent work Captal. You, on the other hand, lieutenant, I cannot say the same. You nearly killed one of my agents. One of my best, in fact. Even worse, she was carrying intelligence that is essential to Third Corps future plans and operations. And if you had your way, I would be down one agent and have thrown our carefully laid plans into ruin. You should be thanking Garrad for stopping you, if you got your way, if the Prince and I found out what you did…" he blinked and shook his head. "We will not dwell on what did not, thankfully, happen."

The gas-masked officer was still silent and unmoved, but D'Uxford knew that under that mask, there was sheer panic. In acting on his own, he would have brought disaster to the forces of humanity, what would the Emperor think? He made a slight smile and spoke again.

"I will make a deal with you, lieutenant. If we ignore and write off the death of that one Guardsman, killed with adequate reason, both for my operations and by the very rules of engagement as ordered by the Prince, ignore Garrad and don't try to take petty revenge, I will forget this ever happened. I'll make M forget it too."

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence before the lieutenant nodded in agreement.

"Wonderful. Now, none of you here will repeat what you heard, you will forget what you saw, and certainly don't remember M. What she sounds like, looks like, erase it from your memory, or you will be facing my wrath. I only made a show of this and revealed her to clear up this little scuffle your men have gotten into. Lieutenant, please take your men back to your regiment, and escort the commissar away."

"Yes sir."

"Captal, stand your men down. This incident is over. Do not try to reignite it. Please."

"Very well Robert."

The three left the tent, Lucan opening his mouth to protest, but was quickly pulled away by the Krieger. As they exited outside, they began barking orders as men scurried back to their posts. Inside the tent, D'Uxford and M prepared to leave, but he looked at Garrad.

"You have gotten my attention, and earned my thanks, Garrad. To think I would be in debt to a former lowly thief. Don't act surprised, I got as much information on you as I could before coming here. I may need you one day, so at the very least... I can't ask you to not die, this is a Crusade after all. However, I would stay away from Kriegers or Commissar Lucan for a while, but given your past, self-preservation seems to be a skill you have in spades. Don't prove me wrong. Farewell."

The black and gold figure quickly stepped out into the camp, but M stayed behind for a few moments. Garrad, still a bit in shock and surprise, tried to say something but simply closed his mouth and threw up his hands. He was even more shocked when M kissed him on the lips and winked at him.

"Thank you Garrad. Try not to get killed, I owe you one."

"L-looking forward to it," he stuttered as she giggled and left the tent.

As D'Uxford, M, and his retinue rode off, the Kriegers gathered and prepared to retreat. De Gast watched in satisfaction as they did so, the two that faced his knights shouldering weapons covered in mud. As they marched away, Lucan grimaced at the Captal and spoke one last time.

"I hope to not return to your camp, Captal."

De Gast grinned.

"Come here again, you'll leave on a stretcher, or worse."

"Regardless of rank, Captal, threatening a commissar is-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" de Gast yelled as he turned and stalked back to his tent, finding Garrad standing at the entrance.

"You want a drink, Guardsman?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Good, I was going to give you some anyway. I think we both need to forget today."