Having completed the ambush to much success, Roger finds himself entwined in philosophy, art, disagreement with his commanders, and the unfortunate results of the conflict between two Eldar far too interested in him...

Standing in a set of bathing stalls that had been brought to the oasis, Roger Wessyng poured lukewarm water over himself, feeling relief as the sweat and sand, so much sand, washed off his skin.

"Fuck's sake," a female voice in the stall next to him grumbled.

"You all right Helene?" he asked.

"It's bad enough that I gotta wash my uniform three goddamn times to get it even wearable, now I find out there's sand in parts of my body I didn't think possible."

"I'm learning that myself. Could you pass some soap?"

A hand appeared over the top of the stall, holding a white cube that was caked, of course, in sand.

"Cheers."

"I don't know if this is making any difference honestly."

"What do you mean? Don't you feel cleaner now? I asked specifically for clean water and had it shipped here on Alwyns orders."

"I think I'm just moving the sand around to different places."

"What I think, is that you're washing wrong."

Two hands popped over the top and waved at him.

"How about you come over here and show me?"

Roger laughed but started to think about it. Given the few days since she had arrived, he had come to appreciate the Cadians attitude and abilities. It also helped that for the first time since he joined the Leopards, he had a constant human companion. It also was, much to his embarrassment, enjoyable to have a woman around, or at least one that he could approach and not feel like he was about to be stabbed, stalked, or taken unawares. There was a part of him that wanted to leave his stall and gladly join her. He shook his head and gritted his teeth, pushing the thought away as viciously as he could.

"I have to keep up appearances, and I'm your superior. It wouldn't work well for our command structure."

"We have one?"

"Well-"

"We follow the serjeants orders, and that is fine enough for all of us," a new voice joined in.

Helene nearly stumbled to the floor as she tried to deal with the surprise.

"Cocksucking motherfu-" she growled as she tried to get her footing again.

"Hello Anya," Roger sighed. "How long have you been here?"

"Since you two started bathing."

"Oh that's real fucking nice. We give you as much privacy as you knife-ears goddamn want, but WE try to get some, we can't have any of that shit."

'We do respect your privacy, Helene, but I thought it would comfort the both of you to know you are under my protection."

"Yeah. I really feel secure now."

Roger poured another bucket of fresh water over himself and tried to wipe off more of the sand off, some of it still from the ambush two days before.

"Hey, Ginge. I wanted to ask you, how much sand did your people have to scrape out of their armor?"

Given their observers red hair, it took Helene very little time to create a nickname that she thought would get under the Rangers skin.

"Our armor seals air-tight. Unless we removed our masks, we had no environmental interference during the ambush."

Though he heard nothing from the other stall, Roger could imagine Helene seething at this information.

"Roger, may I say something?"

"Of course."

"I believe letting that one man live was a mistake."

"How so?"

"Our foes know who we are, that we are deployed in this area, and that we plan to keep attacking them. At best, we have warned our prey, at worst, we are showing our arrogance and are doomed to fail sooner rather than later."

"I understand your concerns Anya, but I allowed that because I saw the psychological effects of letting him live. I wouldn't call it just arrogance, because now they know they have a threat out here in the desert that will destroy them if they continue. Just leaving them without any idea of what wiped two of their convoys would instill fear of the unknown, but they would probably just shrug it off, say it was a freak accident and cover the whole thing up. Is it more dramatic to tell them? Probably, but it's also more effective thanks to one survivor kicking off rumors, tall tales, and even just the truth makes more than a few of their drivers worried to head out now."

There was a long silence, finally broken by Anya.

"I think we need to be prepared for an attack. Even the most incompetent of your officers would take a look at a map and realize that an oasis is a good place to set up an ambush."

"Agreed," Roger grunted as he poured one more bucket of water over himself. "I've already increased patrols around our camp and have cut down on observation missions. We already know how the convoys run well enough, and I would prefer to have as many people ready to fight any attack here. Helene, have you heard anything from Lion's Den?"

"Negative," she answered with disappointment. "You'd think news of our attack would spread quicker, but I guess not."

Roger shrugged at this as he felt satisfied with how clean he managed to get, grabbing a towel and starting to dry himself off.

"When you're done over there, try to get in touch. I want at the very least to let Edmund and his friends know we didn't get ourselves killed. I'm sure your mother and her council already knows what happened, don't they Anya?"

"Of course. From what Wynoc tells me, they are quite satisfied with the results."

"Well that gives me a bit more time to command you all. I have a feeling if I piss off Farseer Alwyn my leadership won't last very long."

Dry and clean, he pulled his uniform on and slung the stall curtain away, realizing that Anya was a lot closer than he thought. He started before shaking his head.

"Expecting a show?"

"There is nothing I haven't seen before Roger."

Rolling his eyes, he started buckling his sword belt on, swinging the blade into its scabbard. He had spent some time before bathing trying to clean it. Two men had died at the end of it in the ambush, and to his annoyance, a few specks of Haikk blood had refused to come off. He turned to the Ranger and stretched.

"Alright, you had your fun. Aren't you supposed to be on patrol?"

"I was off duty, but I should get some rest."

She leaned into him and glanced at the still occupied stall.

"I just wanted to be sure that she wouldn't try to do anything… uncouth to you. I mean the both of you naked could lead to some unfortunate situations."

"I… whatever. Just get some rest."

"Very well Roger."

The Ranger headed off back towards the rest of the Eldar, vanishing through the green foliage surrounding the pool. Silence fell for a few moments before Helene spoke.

"Is she gone?"

"Yes."

"Thank the Emperor. I don't need any of those pointy-eared-"

"Before you continue, I would like to remind you that you're speaking of your new comrades."

"It-"

She sighed.

"I'm still getting used to it, alright? It's still going to be awhile before I really get used to being around them."

"I understand."

The curtain swung back, revealing the Cadian barely dry, a towel wrapped around her and covering all the more private areas of the human body. She gave him an odd look, which Roger initially took as a signal to mind his own business and stop looking at her.

"You're already dressed?" she asked confusedly.

"Yes, I did it in the stall."

"That's weird."

"I guess when you're a dung-covered feudal peasant, you don't think about keeping clean all the time."

"Cleanliness is the key to God-Emperor-liness."

"Then half the Imperium is in deep trouble, Helene."

She laughed and headed over to her personal tent.

"When you get dressed, get some food in you and call in to HQ when you're ready. If you need me, I'll be talking to the others."

"Got it."

He watched her walk away, becoming angrier with himself as he focused on her swaying gait and her shapely rear. Shaking his head, he hoped to find less human distractions in the rest of the Leopards.

XXXXXX

Sitting amongst a group of Eldar, Roger found himself unwittingly dragged into a conversation of art. Worse still, it was all in Gothic, meaning that his comrades wanted him to hear and give opinions.

"So their units have individual symbols to identify themselves?" Steryn, the artist turned Ranger asked.

"Yes, so think of how my people use heraldry to identify ourselves. For most Imperial Guard units, they use numbers written on their pauldrons, but some use individual symbols instead. It builds unit character."

"I see," she said, sketching one of the PDF unit insignia she had seen through the scope of her long rifle.

Roger looked it over, amazed that her memory was good enough to remember the details of anything through that hellish fight, given the weather and confusing conditions they found themselves in.

"What is this animal?"

"It's… you don't know what it is?"

Steryn shook her head.

He looked around the faces of the five others, a couple Avengers and Scorpions, and another Ranger. Roger was a bit embarrassed that couldn't remember all their names yet, but they had almost never bothered to introduce themselves. He guessed it was part of the War Mask, the individual not needing identification compared to the effectiveness of the whole unit. The Ranger maybe just didn't like talking. It still bothered him.

"None of you?"

No response followed.

"Alright. Well, that is a Scorpion."

The two in dark green armor perked up, looking at the insignia.

"That's what you call a scorpion?" one of them asked.

"Yes. Eight legs, one stinger, lots of eyes. Ugly bastards."

"Our idea of a Scorpion is vastly different. They're much larger."

"I think I'm better off not knowing."

"Speaking of knowing, serjeant, I wanted to remind you that I am still owed a book of heraldry."

Roger grunted.

"I'm aware. I was trying to get something before we got rushed out the door here after the Al-Madin operation. When we get back from this, It'll be a priority for me, don't worry. Hell or high water, you'll get one of the books."

"Glad to hear it serjeant. I will hold you accountable should you fail."

Roger rolled his eyes.

"And the rest of you? Any questions or comments on the art of my people?"

No response, as usual. Then one of the Avengers spoke.

"I do not know much of art. I was following the Path of Administration before I found my calling in war."

"Path of Administration?"

The Avenger nodded politely.

"I managed one of Ducaish's merchant houses. Keeping track of goods and profits. I was quite good at it. I gained much currency, not just of specie, but of social connection as well."

"Why did you leave it?" Roger asked.

The Avenger turned silent, his face going blank, like he was caught in a dream. Then he blinked and seemed to come back.

"One day, I was counting some newly arrived goods from one of the planets on the far reaches. One of our merchants had found our solitary brethren on a planet and traded with them. He told me that they were constantly in need of weapons. That they faced attacks not only from your kind on the planet, but from pirates and raiders. I felt this sudden anger. I felt I needed to fight that. Not your people, but to protect and bring peace through war. And now I am far away from our home, fighting a war and battles I do not completely understand."

Roger sat back and thought about what the Avenger said. He had believed for the longest time that, from his limited information gained from talking to the Eldar, he had simply thought that those who became warriors always were destined for that, excluding the Rangers of course. But being set on one course for life maybe wasn't for all of his comrades. Maybe they had been something before and found the call one day.

"Would you be shocked to know that there are plenty of my kind that have a similar thought process to you?"

"Really?"

"Not all the soldiers of the Imperium are conscripts. There are more than a few planets that provide volunteers to fight."

"Why?" One of the Scorpions asked.

Roger started at this sudden question.

"What do you mean why?"

"Why would you want to go to war? Your people have the ability to choose any path of their liking, and you would choose something as horrific and terrible as a warrior?"

"I thought your kind venerated warriors?"

Steryn laughed and shook her head before speaking.

"The path of the Warrior, and being a Ranger if you follow the Outcasts, is seen as a necessary evil. You know how we look down on Exarchs. They can not even join the Infinity Circuit because their souls are so unstable. Were it not for the fact that I could find more patronage in my art, I would not be here. That and I could not stand the Path I was being told to follow."

One of the Scorpions now spoke.

"We fight because we must. Because our people no longer dominate the universe like they used to."

Roger nodded.

"War is seen as necessary and inevitable by my people. Either between ourselves, Xenos, or really anything, now that I think about it. But someone has to fight it. It just becomes my burden as a result."

Steryn looked up from her sketchbook and looked at Roger with a curious glance.

"I remember you saying you wanted to follow your father on the path of law. Now that you have followed your own path of the warrior, if you could return to before that, would you?"

"I…"

Roger trailed off, surprised by the depth of this question.

"I'll be honest, I probably would have been satisfied, but I would not change how fate has led me so far. If I had stayed on Anglerre, it's true that I wouldn't have seen the horrors of war. I saw things that I wish I never had. I saw humanity at its worst. But on the other hand-"

He took a sip of water from his canteen.

"I saw bravery, self-sacrifice, and honor at its peak. I saw and felt the glory of victory, the joy of surviving the worst thrown at us. I wish I could forget some things, but I would never trade the other moments away to lose them."

The group fell silent as they thought the answer over. Finally Steryn spoke.

"Your ability to recognize such things, Roger Wessyng, gives credence to our decision to follow you."

"I try," he said before standing up and looking into the desert from the cool shade of the trees.

If he had stayed on Anglerre, he wouldn't be here, which in many ways was preferable, seeing how it was a sandy, blazing hot and bitterly cold place at various times. And the sand, as he had painfully learned, got everywhere and into everything. But the views he got, the feeling of being somewhere he never dreamed of made it all worth it. And had he stayed on Anglerre, he never would have met the Prince. He would never have seen an Eldar. Maybe never see a Xeno. A life blessed and cursed by the tides of war.

"Not a bad deal," he muttered to himself.

Steryn was about to ask something else when she noticed the other human in their camp headed their way. She poked Roger with her pen and pointed her way.

"Yes Helene?"

"Report and statement from HQ. For your eyes only."

"Did you read it?"

"I wrote it down to give it to you, what the fuck do you think?"

"Then it isn't his eyes only, is it Cadian?" one of the Avengers quipped.

She shot an angry glare at the offender and handed Roger a paper covered in scribble.

"Thank you, Helene. Pardon my departure, but I must read this. Good day to you all."

With a few grunts and waves, Roger dismissed himself and headed to his equipment and sat on his sleeping bag. Looking over the note, he was hardly surprised by its contents:

TO ROGER WESSYNG, SERJEANT IN HIS HIGHNESS' SERVICE ETC. ETC.
PRINCE EDMUND AND LORD CLAVHAM INFORMED OF ATTACK ON ENEMY CONVOYS AND SUCCESS OF OPERATION WITH APPROVAL AND CONGRATULATIONS.

Well that was a good start.

AUTHORIZATION GIVEN FOR RAIDING OPERATIONS ON MAIN WAREHOUSES AND STORAGE AREAS FOLLOWING CESSATION OF CURRENT MISSION.

Another non-surprise. Roger had been suggesting it for a while now.

CONTINUE WITH CURRENT MISSION AND DO NOT DEVIATE FROM CURRENT STRATEGY. ATTEMPT TO ENGAGE ADDITIONAL CONVOYS IF POSSIBLE. IF UNABLE, PREPARE TO DEPART DESERT POSITION AND RETURN TO CATHEDRAL. DO SO AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Now he had a conundrum. He could attack another convoy, but it would be much more risky given the lack of favorable conditions and higher status of alert than last time. He would have to consult his war council before making such a move, and he had a feeling they would be less supportive this time.

WHETHER RETURNING AFTER ADDITIONAL RAIDS OR DETERMINING THEY ARE NO LONGER POSSIBLE, UPON ARRIVAL AT HEADQUARTERS, YOU WILL BE PUT ON LEAVE FOR REST AND RELAXATION, PER CORPS COMMANDERS ORDERS.

Some time off wouldn't hurt, Roger thought, but then wondered what would happen to the rest of the Leopards. He doubted they needed rest like he did. Maybe Alwyn would exercise her authority to take them back?

IF REINFORCEMENT OR SUPPORT NEEDED BY UNIT, INFORM VOX OPERATOR IMMEDIATLEY. AS PREVIOUSLY STATED, CONTINUE OPERATIONS AS NECESSARY, CEASE IF REQUIRED. HAPPY HUNTING.

Congratulations and the ability to pull out of this sandy hellhole? Roger scoffed. It was the best damn news he had gotten since arriving. He realized Helene was nearby after he finished reading. She followed him and he hadn't noticed.

"If you're comfortable with it, would you mind getting Kallen, Moire and Cruniach to meet me? I think it's time for a war council."

The Cadian gave him an uncomfortable look, but nodded and obeyed.

XXXXXX

"I do not like the idea at all," Cruniach hissed.

He had always been the more hesitant of the commanders, not surprising given the Rangers were about staying far away with hit and run tactics thrown in. Stand up fights were not their forte.

"I have to concur. Fate and luck were on our side for our last attack. I think trying again would be stretching ourselves into disaster," Moire added with a hint of disappointment.

"I see the Avenger school is masking their disdain for being used in ambushes with their "wisdom"," Kallen said while rolling his eyes. "I think we can give it another try."

Roger put a hand on Moire's shoulder, holding her down while her face twisted in anger. For all the emotional defense of the war mask, it could only go so far.

"Well as I told you all," he said after lifting his hand, "We do have the option to wrap up and walk away."

"Which I think we should do."

"So you and Cruniach are against, and Kallen is for."

"Your vote matters more than ours, commander," the Ranger whispered.

"And I think we need to do some more observation. It's been only a day or two since we hit them, so they probably have adjusted their tactics and operations. Judging by what I have been told from headquarters and Helene's Vox interception, we really put the screws to them."

"Screws?" the Avenger asked.

"Old saying. We really put them in a bad situation. They are having trouble recruiting new drivers, and they are upping the defense of the convoys now."

"Which should give us all the more reason to retreat. We will attack forces much stronger and better prepared than what we faced. Additionally, we do not have the benefits of being hidden in environmental camoflauge as far as I am aware."

Roger nodded at Moire.

"Correct on all counts. Kallen, what do you say in favor of attacking?"

"We will have to face worse odds, but I believe that since we can no longer attack two convoys at once, given a change in strategy, we can attack one with our full force. Even if they have additional defensive capabilities, if hit with the full force of the Eldar, I believe they would have no chance of defeating us."

"And risk our camp, which they surely are searching for as we speak," Cruniach cut in.

"But my Ranger friend, what is reward without risk?"

Moire was about to speak when Roger lifted his hand to silence them.

"You all are correct in various ways. I think personally we should attack at least one more time, but we should, as you two have stated, show caution. I don't want us bumbling into a killbox because we pushed our luck. So I say we stay a few more days, restart our observation operations and see how they've changed their convoys, how they've improved their defense, et cetera. After that, we see if a plan is applicable or worth the effort, and we go from there. Any arguments?"

Silence, but he could see the body language of Cruniach and Moire showed more than a little hesitation of following his plan.

"We're not just jumping into attack mode. We stay hidden, silent, and out of the way until we're ready. If another sandstorm comes in, all the better. But for now, go back to what we did before and try again. Don't fix what isn't broken and all that. Anything else?"

No response.

"Excellent. Inform your warriors of the new plan. Figure out amongst yourselves for the patrols and observer shifts. Any issues, come find me."

As the four broke off, Roger realized Kallen was following behind him.

"Something wrong?"

"Yes, but I did not want to bring it up to you in front of the others."

"Oh no, what now."

"I've heard some… concerns, from my warriors."

"About what?"

"Apparently, there have been hostilities between the other Aspects in our camp."

"What?" Roger said in confusion.

"Apparently, one member of the Rangers and one of the Avengers have gotten into a feud, for whatever reason, no one is sure. But the issue is, if one comes into conflict, their brethren will come to support them."

"So what?"

Kallen sighed and rubbed his eyes, obviously irritated that Roger was not grasping the implication.

"Our Ranger and Avenger warriors are currently fighting each other."

Roger stared at him in shock.

"They're fighting? Like trying to kill each other?"

"No, no, nothing like that, but they are certainly getting less co-operative."

"Why didn't Cruniach and Moire-"

"They would rather not admit it to you."

"But they seemed to be amiable with one another."

"They're commanders, they are above petty inter-aspect rivalry now."

"But I was just with Steryn, and she was sitting with Avengers-"

Kallen smiled slightly.

"Steryn is a good soul who has more faith in art than personal squabbles. Did she speak to any of them?"

Roger frowned as he tried to remember. She was discussing things with the Scorpions, but he couldn't remember her talking to any of the Avengers, or vice versa.

"Dammit, as if we don't have enough issues. And let me guess, that's another reason they are so ready to leave?"

Kallen nodded.

"They want to get us back to Ducaish or Alwyns camp and smooth out whatever issues are bothering their warriors."

"If they would have said something-"

"Pride is as essential to my kin as our organs and arrogance. We are supposed to all work and fight together, and now because of what seems to be a personal issue that drags in their comrades, we are having problems. Very embarrassing, yes?"

Roger nodded and sighed.

"Thank you for telling me. Are your Scorpions having any issues with Avengers or Rangers?"

Kallen shook his head and shrugged.

"I am not aware."

"So all's not lost."

"No. If you do not mind, I will take my leave and organize my warriors."

"I won't stop you."

As the Scorpion commander vanished, Roger continued back to his sleeping bag, frustrated that even a race as supposedly wise and aloof as the Eldar would be caught in petty squabbles. So much for the idea of common sacrifice. He chuckled as once again, he realized how similar the Eldar and Humanity were, as much as they would hate to admit it. And now an Avenger and Ranger were fighting each other. But who would they be, and what would they be fight-

He stopped dead in his tracks, his face turning stony as he suddenly realized what was going on. He could only think of one Ranger and one Avenger who had fought each other, who had one thing they wanted and the other not to have. The twitch below his eye came back.

Anya and Morgyn.

XXXXXX

Pacing around his sleeping bag, Roger tried to think of something to say to the redheaded Eldar sitting nearby.

"So you decide the best way to handle your differences is to fight with each other, even when I specifically said to end it back there in the desert?"

"We are not fighting. We are merely engaged in a struggle between one another."

"Oh! I see! Well that makes all the difference now. Moire and Cruniach will be happy to hear their warriors are not fighting each other, but "engaged in a struggle!" How the hell did you two even drag your comrades into this stupidity anyway!"

Anya looked up from her longrifle, which she had been adjusting since he summoned her, more than a bit of annoyance in her eyes.

"Our aspects stand together through anything. It is similar to how your… regiments, I believe? Stand with one another regardless of background."

"Do they know why you and Morgyn are fighting?"

Anya looked down at her rifle again, seemingly embarrassed.

"No. And Morgyn and I will keep it that way."

"Well, as the object of your rivalry, God-Emperor knows why, I am asking you to stop."

"Until either one of us gives up, not. Happening. Roger."

The serjeant curled his hands into fists and threw up his arms in frustration.

"She's a confused young girl. She doesn't know what she's saying, or the way she acts towards me. There's nothing more than a misunderstanding between us."

"She doesn't see it that way."

"And what of our association? What would you call that?"

She stood up, towering over Roger and looking down on him. He always forgot how tall even the most demure of the Eldar were.

"I feel responsible for nearly getting you killed. I have come to see that if I don't watch over you, something bad will happen."

Roger looked back up at her, not backing down.

"That's it? That's why you've stalked me, nearly killed another one of our comrades, and Throne knows what else? Because you feel responsible for protecting me?"

Suddenly, she got down on one knee and put her left hand on his cheek.

"Roger, when you and I first met, I was about to be sent back to Ducaish because my mother found an excuse to do so. Your act of kindness and near death for doing so started a path of fate that not only kept me on the Path of the Outcast, it kept me with my brothers and sisters in arms, and it gave me a chance in a new unit to show my skills. Nothing but good has happened to me since you appeared, and I worry if something were to happen to you, I would feel the effects."

"So… I'm a good luck charm to you?"

Anya gave a slight, awkward smile.

"Yes, but on the other hand, I've come to learn that Mon-Keighs are not all like I have been told they are. I have come to find you especially to be a very thoughtful, respectful, brave, and honorable one."

Roger felt the hand slip off his cheek, and he looked away from her and bit his cheek in embarrassment.

"I was unaware you felt that way. I apologize for my outburst. But that still doesn't answer what your problem with Morgyn is."

Anya stood and went back to her rifle, sighing as she sat down.

"Because she has designs on you that I cannot accept, or approve of. I might be too harsh on her, but I also see our conflict as a display of dominance. She thinks I will let you go, or let her take you away and do whatever she wants with you? Not on my watch, and not as easily as she wants to believe."

"That's kind of an answer. I guess I'll have to satisfy myself with that."

There was a silence between the two. The darkness of night had fallen over the Tal-Gedi, and Roger was feeling the chill of the desert seep into his bones. He shivered suddenly and decided to get some sleep.

"You have observation or patrol duty?"

"No, I was on patrol already today."

"Well, I'm going to get some rest. You do what you need to do."

Already wearing the lightweight, stained uniform he turned into makeshift nightclothes, he crawled into the sleeping bag and took a last sip of water before closing his eyes. A few minutes later, he felt something poke him.

"Yes?"

"May I join you?" Anya asked.

Roger sighed, wanting to say no, but unable to. Besides, it never hurt to get a bit warmer.

"Fine."

He felt something pressing on his back, and an arm wrapped around him.

"Goodnight Roger."

"Goodnight Anya."

All Roger could hope was that Morgyn wasn't anywhere to see this. But to his surprise, compared to most of the nights he had spent in the desert, he had a rather peaceful nights sleep.