The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

by Sunshine Temple

Tanya defeats Being X but what then? Another cosmic entity sees how Being X violated the rules with mortal free will and offers to re-balance the scales. Tanya ends up in a world that is familiar to the Empire, but also one where being the "Devil of the Rhine" has nowhere near as much stigma. A cross with the Demonic Homeplane / House BlackSky verse as seen in the Return

21. Chapter 21: Officers and Obeisance

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.

fic/

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 21: Officers and Obeisance

Mursam was House BlackSky's largest colony. Located on a dimensional crossroads that made further travel easier, similar but lesser than that of the Homeplane of Diyu itself, Mursam was a central location that served as a logistical, commercial, and military hub for most of House BlackSky's other colonies.

I was not a member of the Cartographers' Guild, let alone the Transcendental Survey Branch, but I could read a map. Mursam was a key holding and thus needed considerable defense for itself and nearby colonies, especially since a direct transit from Diyu to Mursam had been charted about forty years ago, around the same time as the Third Great House War.

A full Coetus Malleus of twenty Legions, including Corpus Incursio Tenacity, was held here with enough Rorarii, first line reserves, to form at least ten more Legions. I was not sure how many second line reserves there were in Mursam, but this colony was a favorite place for Legionaries to retire to. The Emurian Fifth Landing Fleet was stationed here to transport Tenacity to any location on Mursam or any other colony and, if needed, could ferry another half-dozen legions in a second wave. The Colonial Domitianus Fourth Fleet was not quite as powerful as the Home Fleets, but the Fourth had about twenty capital ships, half of them stationed on Mursam, including the Celestial class Empyrean Zenith.

Of more relevance to the task of defending colonial holdings was the larger number of smaller combat airships also attached to the Fourth Fleet. Of course, the large contingent of assorted supply ships was the most vital component of the Fourth by far, and the key element to projecting BlackSky's Legions across the House's far-flung colonies. This mission was further advanced by a whole constellation of smaller bases and outposts standing watch over the secondary colonies.

Positioned over a natural harbor where the grassy steppes met the ocean, the colonial capital Mursa Victrix was a sprawling city of broad horizons. After spending about a year in Silvana, I had felt a twinge of agoraphobia when I was first exposed to the vast vistas, seas of grass or brine stretching endlessly in all directions around the city. Though, after a period of acclimation, I had grown familiar with the starkly beautiful landscape; it reminded me of Bovitar, the city I had grown up in, one orphan among many.

I stood on the balcony of the offices my squadron had been assigned while we trained with the rest of Quirinus's Demi-Wing. Today, the westerly breezes had obligingly brought the cool sea air directly to the balcony, cutting the edge off the alchemical stink of the industrial yards and mechanical stench rising from the massive base known as Colonia Mursam Castramagnus. I had gone from spring in Diyu to early fall in Mursam, which was only part of dealing with a slightly shorter year, a longer day, and other differences that gave a lingering feeling of unbalance and disquiet. Accepted wisdom held that it took a month to acclimate to life on a new dimensional plane.

I turned away from studying the sky. As always, the burning cloudless blue was busy with the expected aircraft. If one wanted to return to Diyu or to travel even further along the dimensional spine, then the only realistic options were a Teleport-rune-equipped airship or access to a proper Gateway.

Sipping from my mug, I stepped back through the privacy wards and into my squadron's offices. I took my time to enjoy the brew; it was the only cup I would allow myself for the day. Getting good coffee out here was far more expensive, hence the local popularity tea enjoyed.

Putting aside fears of another House War, of deals with Archangels, and the sundry other concerns I labored under, I allowed myself a moment of pride. The Third Squadron of the 78th Infantry Legion's Epsilon Demi-Wing was mine. Granted, I was still just over halfway filled on Pilots, but that would be fixed soon.

Passing Flight Two's Pilots, I looked over their shoulders and was gratified to see they were going over reports. Without any reminders necessary, would wonders never cease! Before I could congratulate them on their diligence, I felt a pressure at the base of my horns. The sensation was familiar and I was surprised at the sudden chorus of feelings that welled up with me at that nostalgic touch. My senior Pilot, Volantes Signifier GreyDawn opened the door to admit our visitor.

The willowy Centurion who stepped in looked more mature and grown up than I remembered her, but quite a bit of water had passed under the bridge since we'd parted. Octavia was a dark purple-skinned woman with glossy black hair and amber eyes. Even her wings, which I remembered as seeming vaguely oversized, now fit her slender frame perfectly. Not much older than LoveBlood, she walked with more confidence than the green Pilot I had first met over two years ago.

"Pri- Prefect Centurion DiamondDust!" she said, correcting herself as she saluted, exposing her neck and flicking her claws.

Returning the salute, I smiled, pleasantly surprised at our reunion; that is, I was surprised that Octavia had arrived today. "Centurion Octavia, it's good to see you, please come in."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"You can be at ease," I chuckled, before continuing in a louder voice so the rest of my Squadron could hear. "Anyone who helped get the crew of a downed Spatha out of Ortov while the city burned and suffered alongside me in FOB EmeraldInferno in the Crocelli jungles has earned a bit of leeway."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Octavia agreed while GreyDawn chuckled.

My two Flight Leaders ambled over; Visha and VioletBlood also knew Octavia, of course. Though my wingwoman had missed out on all the fun of Ortov and minor House Vualia.

"Welcome to Third Squadron," VioletBlood said, sizing her up. "Congratulations on getting married," the Baroness added, her gaze upon me weighty.

"Thank you for sending us such lovely gifts, all of you." Octavia smiled and bowed her horns to us. "And congratulations on your engagement, to all three of you."

VioletBlood gave a smugly confident smile while I stammered an appreciative response.

"Thanks! It's great to have you again." Visha handed her a cup of coffee. "You'll be in Flight One, that's with the Countess, GreyDawn, and myself."

"We'll be wingwomen again," GreyDawn said with a toothy grin.

Octavia steeled herself. Being in a Squadron's First Flight was an honor, First Flight considered of: the Squadron Commander; her second, and the Flight Leader; and, in this case, the Squadron's senior pilot. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she said with more assertiveness than I expected.

The new Pilots of Flight Two looked up from their work, seeming to finally notice the new arrival, although in all likelihood they had simply been tactful enough to give our reunion the illusion of privacy.

"How much do you know of the assignment?" I asked

Octavia's usual cockiness faded slightly. "Junior Tribune Artemis Quirinus has four Squadrons. First Squadron, commanded by her wingwoman, Prefect Centurion Caenis, consists of Harmonia Air Superiority models. Second and Fourth are Sarpedona Ground Attack models. Which leaves Third Squadron, which is equipped with Polyxo."

"Ah, I see someone's read the briefing," I said, giving a bit of levity.

"I am Legion; I had help with the bigger words," Octavia smoothly replied. "But if you want me to elaborate..."

I shook my head. "It's pretty basic. Nearly fifty Legion Fliers, my guess is Demi-Wing Epsilon is intended to provide extra support to Legionary formations. Which, out in the colonies, has some implications. We'll be the swing Squadron. Our role will change depending on what Quirinus needs."

"It sounds like a good fit for someone of your skill," Octavia acknowledged.

I chuckled; from a stranger that could come off sycophantic, but Octavia knew my command style and had been trained under my wing. "You already know Flight One. LoveBlood, care to introduce Flight Two?"

"It'd be my pleasure." VioletBlood clapped her hands and snapped a summons at the trio of former cadets.

I allowed myself to fade into the background, free to enjoy my coffee as the newly minted pilots made their introductions. Those three had fought, suffered, and demanded exactly this. After Felisia had recommended I take some cadets into my Squadron I had spent the months after increasing the tempo of my training.

The rest of my Squadron had helped; we all knew that whoever would be picked would have to be reliable, capable, and able to learn. Beyond passing the examinations to proxy for Flight School the three winners had undergone personal evaluations conducted by Quirinus. I was grateful my commander had invested the time to put them through their paces, coming to her own conclusions about their fitness to serve. Conclusions that would be independent of my history with my former students, and the mixed feelings I had still harbored once Quirinus had confirmed that they passed muster.

The other cadets had gone onto Flight School with my letters of recommendation in hand, and were by and large taking the more conventional path of study, training, and waiting until the proper age before trying for a combat slot. I had done my duty and had provided the Imperatrix with a baker's dozen of Legion Fliers.

And yet, none of that was my concern now, thankfully. I had done all that had been asked of me as an educator, and now I was no longer forced to ride herd on a flight of ungrateful whelps and pampered daughters.

It was a drop in the bucket, as the BlackSkyvian war machine went. Every year the Imperial Legions graduated about seven hundred Legion Fliers. The larger Household Fleet needed well over three thousand Fleet Pilots annually, and that was just for Ritual Plate; VTOL, airship, and other aircrew were a whole other personnel pipeline.

"It has been my burden to command my fellow nobility and mentor them in what it takes to be a Legion Flier," VioletBlood said, stepping next to her fellow baroness. "This is my wingwoman, Centurion SkySpear. As the most capable and willing to put aside foolish ideas of being a duelist mistress of the air, it has not been entirely unpleasant flying with her."

With her side-shaved and braided silver hair, curled horns, and finely aristocratic periwinkle features, Baroness SkySpear almost looked like she would be better off in Fleet Whites than Legion Blacks, but she had proven that she could step out of her mother's shadow.

"Ma'am." SkySpear nodded to VioletBlood before turning to Octavia. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've read a lot about your missions."

Octavia bowed her head, presenting her horns.

"And these two I've put together in the hopes they'll keep each other out of trouble, but the countess decided to give Centurions Pulivia VibrantFang and Lavish RoseTalon a chance. Amazingly, neither has broken their new Polyxo suits yet. Yet."

Behind my coffee mug, I somehow managed to not grit my teeth. That those two had stuck with my program and managed to rise to the top was not entirely unexpected or displeasing. Lavish had a dogged stubbornness that was almost admirable. Things got easier for her when she realized I was not someone she could bully past using her force of personality or the weight of her senatorial mother's reputation.

Pulivia, the closest thing to a friend Lavish seemed to have, was rather studious and, despite a meekness out of the suit that seemed at odds with being the daughter of a duchess, third-in-line or not, she was decisive in the air. I just had to look past the two spoiled, pampered girls who thought they could crash a meeting with the manufacturer of our suits.

Which, admittedly, had been a very large ask.

Pulivia seemed a bit nervous and almost in awe of Octavia. "You were with the countess at the start?"

"That was me," VioletBlood haughtily interjected, as keenly defensive of her claims as always. "Isn't that right, Countess?" I keenly felt the conversational gravity drawing me back in, just as surely as if the baroness had stooped to looping her arm around mine and pulling me back in by main force. Fortunately, she'd retained a small measure of discretion. "But Octavia does go back very far."

Lavish gave a respectful bow to the both of us. It was odd to see her in a proper Legion uniform and not one with a cadet's green trim. "It will be good to fly with you."

I gave a sharp smile. "Quite so, now your Flight doesn't have a numbers advantage."

VioletBlood gave a small huff. "You do realize how unfair it is. Your Flight is full of aces with years of experience, while, aside from my own brilliance, I merely have cadets," she whined theatrically.

"Then you'll have to use your brilliance to close the gap," I said with a shrug equally theatric in its nonchalance, capping off my studied disregard with a long sip from my now-lukewarm coffee.

VioletBlood went from an exaggerated huff to a more sinister mien. "I'll just have to work them harder then," she crowed and cackled with malicious glee, and Pilots' tails went limp.

"Did your Ritualista transfer too?" Visha asked, diverting attention away from VioletBlood's minor power trip.

"They came with me on the same supply ship from Silvana." Octavia nodded and gave a smile. "I also may have brought a few goods from home."

My subordinates looked at my mug.

"Among other things," Octavia assured. "I did manage to get you a few things as well Ma'am."

I gave the Legionary Flier a wary look.

"Ma'am?"

"The Prefect is just weary after writing thank you notes for all going away presents she got before leaving Silvana," Visha explained, her tone placating and infuriatingly tolerant.

"I don't see why! Honestas and SaphireFiligre did wonderful work on her crown, and the coat of arms the duchess presented her was lovely, and long overdue. Not to mention getting you a proper sword," VioletBlood huffed, taking a moment way from harassing her pilots to shoot me a frustrated look as if I were to blame for such delays, which was only partially true.

"You have a coat of arms?"

"Oh yes," VioletBlood chirped, turning to smile at Octavia. "a lovely design of azure over sable. A constellation of nine crimson stars mount the black lower half while a pair of white wings rise up over them to the blue field feathers up protecting a golden star of Our Hallowed Lady." To my mild amazement, VioletBlood's tail was swishing enthusiastically, as if she were flaunting her own honors instead of dealing my own frippery. "I'd show you, but the countess doesn't want to put her coat of arms up in her office, let alone the common room."

I gave my betrothed a withering look. I appreciated the effort put into such gifts, but I was never one for crowns, and my coat of arms was rather... blatant in its symbolism. I was fortunate the design had been publicly entered into the registry after my business with Samoth had concluded. The Zioxan mercenary could have easily taken offense at the clear references to her sister's death on my arms, and surely would have taken the opportunity to claim insult if only to claim another bargain chip during our negotiations.

Still, the crown, sword, and coat of arms did suit the legend of Countess DiamondDust and would be useful when I was compelled to leverage that reputation. I suppose that was the real meaning of the gifts my sisters and mother gave me.

"It would compliment your crown wonderfully," VioletBlood's sober tone belied how petulant she was being.

"I don't keep that here either."

"At least your sword is in the office." This time VioletBlood didn't bother to conceal her pout behind any measure of decorum.

"It was her elder sister's," Visha said, trying to be conciliatory.

Thankfully she was not speaking of my late elder sister. Even I would have found that to be an ill-omened artifact. Still, ArgentShroud had honored me with a gift of one of her blades. She also had good humor and hoped that I, like her, would never need to use it in combat. "I can show you that if you wish," I said in a tone that indicated it would be best if Octavia wished for no such thing.

"No need," she said, full of assurance. "And I think you'll be happy with the items I procured. Signifier GreyDawn gave me a list."

"Unlike the rest of you, I've been off-world before," GreyDawn put in. "Things are better than they were back then, but there's always a few items that are hard to get out here."

"Good, and we'll go over our stockpile and see if there's anything we need to restock before we get posted further out." I turned back to Octavia. "Have your Ritualista contact Centurion Gibbs for their slotting and Miss SunShower, my aide, for any personal issues."

"I made sure my suit never left my Ritualistas' sight. They're offloading it right now." Octavia stated with justifiable pride; getting your suit lost due to a bureaucratic mix-up would be embarrassing and frustrating. "Your aide?"

"The Prefect's kitsune maid," GreyDawn clarified, a spark of humor danding around her eyes.

"Ah." Octavia politely nodded, her face a study of bland disinterest

"She's great at being both aide and maid!" VioletBlood insisted, although her point was decidedly undermined by the lingering petulance in her voice.

"She has been an excellent find, Ma'am," GreyDawn agreed with a face just straight enough that I couldn't chide her for the almost audible laughter at my expense.

I put my mug down on the table in the center of the room, deciding that it would be best for my dignity to simply ignore the entirety of the digression. "Octavia, I want your suit's records submitted to Centurion Gibbs. It took her long enough to accept the promotion; she might as well have something interesting to look at. First, is there anything you need fixed, anything you want? We might as well get your Polyxo refreshed when we're still at the biggest depot in the colonies."

"It was refitted to Mark 15 last year; overall it's good. But the stabilizers could use recalibrating, the survival kit is getting a bit old, it could do with a standard seal replacement, and the Ballista projectors are reaching the end of their lifespan, Oh, and my comms need syncing."

"Understandable, all standard," I said quickly drafting a memo as I listened. The survival kit, a set of relevant supplies stored on the inner suit layer, was easy to overlook. Fortunately, nothing was too time-sensitive, though fresh batteries, supplies, and munitions were beneficial. Getting her comms systems aligned with the rest of her Flight, Squadron, and Wing was, of course, the highest priority on the list. Bad communications may kill, but no communications was scarcely better.

Visha gave me a look and quietly took the pen from my hand and finished writing out the memo. Ah, this was her Flight, and as such standard suit issues were more her responsibility than mine. "Do you have a Gorgon Rig?" Visha asked her new Pilot as I took a step back, trying not to look too obviously chastised.

"Unfortunately, no." Octavia seemed a bit bashful about that. "My scrying systems have been updated but not to that level."

"We'll make sure you're consistently equipped. I won't have one of my Flight being the odd girl out," Visha said, disarmingly charming as always.

"I simply strongly suggested to my Pilots that they purchase that option when they bought their own Polyxo suits," VioletBlood said, giving her Flight a predatory smirk.

I eyed my least experienced Pilots without much sympathy. That was one advantage of dealing with spoiled nobles; they were able to buy their way up to par. "It's a shame that equipping Flight Three with Gorgon Rigs won't be that easy."

"Who will be in Flight Three?" Octavia asked.

"I've got a Flight transferring from the Primus Anchorage," I answered, pleased with the announcement. It would be nice to have another experienced Flight attached to my Squadron. Hopefully, we would be able to have the luxury of familiarization training to get all three of my Flights to work together as well as acquainting my Squadron with Quirinus's other three Squadrons.

"We're getting some moon succubae?" Lavish asked, blunt as always.

VioletBlood and I gave her arch looks. Pulivia winced by proxy at the somewhat crass slang.

"Sorry, that was too informal of me," Lavish said, trying to sound contrite and mostly failing. The green Pilot had the sense to not point out VioletBlood's nickname for Visha, nor the baroness's own nickname.

"Are they natives of Lantia? Did they grow up on the Anchorage?" VioletBlood asked, thankfully moving the conversation past Lavish's faux paus. Although, judging by her enthusiasm, she might be inquiring from genuine curiosity about her new comrades. If so, I could easily understand her curiosity. Lantia had a different culture, more reserved, than Diyu proper. It was also the heartland of House Andromache. The Lantian Primus Anchorage was the homeport of Primus Third Fleet, the Emuria Eighth Landing Fleet, and had a large Legion presence. All that meant a large population of support staff and dependents.

On first blush, the Primus Anchorage seemed like a safe rear position. In some ways, the Third and Eighth gave better service as fleets-in-being being unlikely to ever leave their berths in earnest. The possibility of having about ten capital ships, with full escort and fleet support, and Corpus Incursio Vigilance appear anywhere on Diyu within a couple hours was a considerable threat to any opposition, leaving the Anchorage as a quiet but prestigious post.

That impression, while not entirely untrue, was also exaggeration. It took time to collect, load, and stow the Legions on their troopships, not to mention charge their Teleport Runes. If it ever came time for the Third and Eighth to deploy in earnest, any enemy intelligence would surely see them coming and take immediate countermeasures. Still, when it came to rapid deployment of significant troop capacity, House BlackSky had invested considerably in that capability and it would be very through countermeasures indeed to even impede the massive lunar deployment. Even knowing an attack by the Third and Eighth was imminent, an enemy would be unable to concentrate their defenses unless they knew where the assault was to fall.

Both as a first strike capability or as a rapid reinforcement to either First or Second Home Fleet, these formations were a figurative Damocles Sword suspended over Diyu. It was the latter aspect, with even faster assistance if Beacons were used, that was what Third Fleet and its supporting Legionary assets were more frequently deployed as. I had enough experience to know that a posting on Lantia would be far from calm and sedate.

"Their Flight Leader is a veteran and did grow up in the garrison," I explained, moving on from considerations of Lantia. The relative value of that posting was academic in my case. While it was theoretically possible for me to acquire a slot based on the Primus Anchorage, I could only do that if I ceased to be Quirinus's subordinate.

"Oh? Why's she having her Flight transfer out here?" GreyDawn asked, just managing to keep the suspicion out of her voice. A trained Polyxo Flight was a valuable commodity in the Legions, and a transfer of an entire Flight was entirely worthy of comment.

"Was she floored by the opportunity of serving under you?" VioletBlood's haughty tone had undercurrents both gushing and snide.

I gave her a level look to indicate she was being just a bit too familiar in front of the Legionaries.

Tail curling, VioletBlood gave a small nod.

Looking at the clock I ran a few numbers. "Your suit's being offloaded?" I asked Octavia.

She nodded. "My Ritualista should be moving it to join the rest of the squadron. We're in hangar 38, the one just down the hall and on the ground floor?"

"Good, good. And have you had lunch yet?" I asked, giving the suddenly worried pilot a sharp smile.

Octavia shook her head warily, eyes fixed on mine. "I'm still getting used to the new time. Acclimation period and all that."

"Well, how about we all have a quick meal?" Despite my cheerful tone, my Pilots were skeptical and worried. "I'll talk to Gibbs and see if all our suits are flight-ready."

"Do you want me to get clearance from Flight Ops?" Visha diffidently asked.

"Yes, let's see what slots they have available, worst case we might have to get some simulator time," I said, giving my Pilots a reassuring smile. Half of the cowards openly flinched away. "Don't worry, this is just some familiarization training. It's not like even I can get a live fire exercise approved on this short notice."

For some reason the seven other Legion Fliers did not seem terribly reassured by my words.

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Some things never change. When your commanding officer requests your presence "at your convenience" or invites you to dine with her, those are just polite formalities. You will find your convenience coming very shortly, and even if you just stood up from a meal you will abruptly find room to be peckish, or at least you will if you desire to have a future in the military.

Volantes Tribune Artemis Magnus Quirinus, commander of the 78th Infantry Legion's Epsilon Demi-Wing, was no martinet. Still, she expected all her squadron commanders to attend when she issued her summons, polite wording or not. The location she had chosen for today's meal was rife with hints about the true nature of this "impromptu get-together".

This was not a formal dinner that required mess dress uniforms, nor one requring the reservation of one of the Colonia Mursam Castramagnus' officers' dining rooms. Instead, the invitation was to an upscale restaurant just outside of downtown Victrix.

Stepping inside, I gave a short bow to the hostess, resplendent in her silk dress with intricate sash. A bouquet of both familiar and novel spices filled my nose. A further good sign, if only for my palate, was that the restaurant served Paymonish cuisine.

The western peninsula of Mursam had a rather large, if legally informal, colony from that Minor House. Over the generations, and adapting to local differences in food and climate, the Mursam Paymonish had started to diverge from their Diyu cousins.

I was led to a private room that with a good view of the bay. Three people were already waiting at the broad table: Quirinus; Prefect Centurion Caenis, her second and commander of First Squadron; and a third Prefect Centurion I didn't recognize.

On the shorter side but muscular and broad of shoulder, with short blue hair, and a rather demure set of grey horns, the new woman's wings were iridescent with blue-grey feathers. She gave me a calculating look. Putting her wine glass down, she bowed her horns to me. Ah, this must be the commander of Fourth Squadron; she looked younger than I expected, but still quite aggressive.

I gave her a quick but respectful nod, before bracing and saluting Quirinus. "Wonderful that you could make it;" the Tribune said by way of greeting, returning my salute, "please, sit."

I nodded and took one of the two empty seats.

"Countess, have you met Prefect Centurion Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang?"

"I have not had the pleasure," I said, giving the newly named HarrowFang a smile. The Legion Flier certainly looked tenacious, and pugnacious, enough to have earned the honor name Firmitas, even at her young age. "You've got one of our Sarpedona Squadrons?" I asked, out of politeness' sake.

Cold silver eyes twinkled. "Aye, and we've got something in common, DiamondDust."

"Oh? I've been out in a capital posting and been away from the real fight."

Fabia snorted. "Please. You're one of Artemis's girls. And she may be flying a prissy Harmonia suit, but she still makes sure her protégées all know how to get down in the mud."

"Ah," I glanced over and saw that Quirinus did not object to the familiarity. "There may have been some... popular embellishments to my-"

"Not that," Fabia cut me off. "I don't care about the crap and pap the capital and the brass-horns will serve up to try to get more tails in suits. I'm done dancing that dance. That said, we do have other things in common." She smirked as she sipped her wine, clearly enjoying dragging out the mystery. "Though my brats aren't quite as spoiled and noisome as yours."

Caenis shook her head. "Now, now, the countess only has to deal with one Flight of green pilots."

"My sympathies," I said sincerely, bowing my horns to Fabia in solidarity. "You have an entire cadre I take it?"

"Yeah," Fabia said, idly flipping the menu open. "My Flight Leaders are solid, and the girls are good, but it's still a green formation."

"You could have commanded Second Squadron," Quirinus said with a bit of resignation, clearly rehashing an old argument.

Fabia shook her head. "Nah, Julia is a good commander, but she still needs time to grow to her position."

"She's ten years older than you and has two more years time in-grade," Quirinus replied.

"I stand by my statement. Experience isn't just measured in time. Not everyone is as blessed by the Martyred Lady as our Countess."

"Or you?"

Fabia shrugged.

Evidently I still needed more practice. "I'm still quite new to all this," I said as the waitress came in and gave me some water. I managed to slip in na order for some amber tea before the uniformed server withdrew..

The ground-attack Legion Flier eyed me. "You're not the only one who got in early as a cadet. I just didn't make quite the same splash, fortunately. My actions weren't quite as evocative you see; no saving my noble mother, no making Ace in a day. As a result, the stories and plays with my so-called heroism died off within a year. And, thankfully, since I only saved hoof-sloggers, I never earned that cursed crown."

I tried to conceal my jealousy.

Fabia laughed, her sardonic humor spiced with sympathy. "Ah, so you have some sense after all. Wonderful."

"I managed to avoid having a Preserver Crown made for me for two and a half years," I stated obscurely pleased as I sipped my water. "How old were you?"

Fabia took a drink. "Thirteen. I'm Mursam, born and raised. Had a guild mistress, a cousin of my mother, who patronized my training, got me a cadet slot early. You know how it goes."

I nodded.

"And there was an exercise on Vikram; it was a wave-the-banner show off to try and up recruitment on that little secondary colony. Trosier tried to raid us. There wasn't much there but local colonial Auxilia." Fabia's face clouded but her expression twisted into a nasty fanged smile. "Unfortunately for them, we were doing a live-fire exercise and after the first combat losses, well... there was plenty of ammunition for those of us who were left."

"Ah, I guess I should not be shocked that something like that has happened before," I said as tactfully as I could. Border raids and brushfire wars were a constant if under-reported facet of BlackSky life, especially on the offworld colonies; notice of villages burned and civilians kidnapped did little to sell broadsheets and nothing to raise general morale, and generally slipped out of the awareness of any not directly involved.

Fabia played with her glass. "With an empire of our size, the emergence of a young Imperial heroine is a matter of statistics."

I tapped the table in thought. The evolution of a heroine could be calculated I thought, based on the number of cadets, the frequency of those cadets being exposed to safe missions, the fraction of said missions that turned out not to be safe after all, and other factors including how often the cadet lives and the odds they had a particularly noteworthy life story.

Given a bit of effort and access to enough data, it would be easy to calculate the window of probability in which the Powers that Be could expect a new heroine to emerge from the faceless morass of mission statements and loss reports. And once the emergence of such a media-ripe darling could be calculated, then it could be included as a factor for any propaganda campaign, any recruitment push...

Caenis snickered. "You don't have to try to work out the odds, Tauria."

Tail stiff, I gave an embarrassed nod to the head of First Squadron and pulled my head back out of the clouds. Such a model was a foolish idea anyway; pinning any major policy on such an unpredictable factor was individual heroism was absurd.

But given the right timing, and perhaps by ridding the deck in advance...

"Glory and fame are fleeting," Quirinus noted.

"That's a small mercy," a fifth voice drawled as a new figure was ushered into our room by the hostess. She had braided black hair, silver hooves, and with her skinny horns and a pair of slightly too big wings for her voluptuous frame, she looked more than a bit too young to be a squadron commander. There was also something off, about her accent. It was familiar somehow, but not in a way I could easily place.

Despite her youthful appearance, she was clearly at least ten years older than I was. Upon further inspection the impression of youth came at least somewhat from her deliberate, yet peculiarly weightless, almost floating, gait. When one wore a Ritual Plate one either had to deal with carrying a very heavy suit that weighed down your torso, and limbs or, when the suit's Zephyr were active, with controlling a suit with its mass buoyed by air spirits but that still possessed its full inertia. In neither case did Ritual Plate use lent itself towards such an airy step.

"Apologies, I got held up straightening out a supply issue with my Ritualista," the woman said in a slightly odd cadence, bowing her glossy green horns to Quirinus. It was then that I placed it; she had the smoother, more rounded vowels of a Luxon accent. It was not quite the flowing Otic I was exposed to in Bovitar, a border province butting up to House Luxon. No, this accent was slower than the accents around Great Bazala Lake in eastern Luxon; instead she had a bit more of the speech of someone from Yomi, Luxon's second city, in the central part of that House.

Interesting. I wondered if she was a refugee or had begged asylum. Perhaps her parents had been the immigrants. Even more interestingly, the woman walked as if she was still getting used to a set of flight armor, not as if she were an experienced pilot. I wondered if it was a deliberate affectation. Even my cadets had rather quickly abandoned any effort to exaggerate their strides.

"No worries; we haven't ordered yet," Quirinus said, gesturing to the open seat. "Everyone, this is Prefect Centurion Lady Julia JadeTalon, Second Squadron. Julia, these are your fellow squadron commanders: Caenis, my second in command, in charge of First Squadron; Countess Tauria DiamondDust with Third Squadron; and Fabia HarrowFang with Fourth, the other Sarpedona, Squadron."

"Charmed," Julia nodded to each of us. Her eyes did linger on me for a moment, perhaps surprised by my age.

We had time for a bit more small talk before the waitress came and took our orders. I decided to go with a savory and spicy shrimp soup, especially since VioletBlood had seemed eager to try the seafood here, which was a welcome break from her normally dismissive attitude to non-Diyu cuisine.

"What was the supply issue?" Caenis asked Julia.

Julia paused to roll her shoulders back. "Oh, just some cartridges for the portable etching and engraving systems for when Ritualista work in the field. There was a mix up when we came out here. Fortunately, I have solid Flight Leaders and the issue was found quickly; they just needed someone with a bit more shoulder-braid to push on supply."

"You're still down a couple Pilots?" Quirinus asked, leaning into the conversation.

Julia put down her own mug of fragrant narrow-leaf tea. A spicier blend that was popular in Khemi, Luxon's capital, but also everywhere else on the coast of the Great Bazala Lake, which included much of Eastern Province. I cursed my overactive paranoia; Quirinus did know and trust her. "Yes. I am supposed to get a pair from here, but..." Julia trailed off.

"The Countess is in a similar position; she's got a Flight coming all the way from Lantia."

"I'm hoping they at least managed to get off the moon by now and are waiting for transit on Diyu. That way they don't have as much distance to catch-up," I said, doing my best to contribute to the conversation. I was still immensely thankful for the pull Quirinus seemed to have as a new minted Tribune. Her reputation, as deserved as it was, must have helped her get some status for her requisitions and personnel needs. As a consequence, transit orders and supply requisitions were being met with unusual speed.

"Especially if, or when, we get sent to some other colony and the distance increases?" Fabia dryly asked. "At least they're not green, purportedly." Her tail swished with amusement.

Julia nodded. "I'm lucky. I got assigned to a squadron that had only three gaps due to Legionnaires' terms ending. Granted, one was their previous Squadron Commander, and Demeter left some big boots to fill, but I have all my Flight Leaders."

I made polite noises of agreement. I could see why Fabia was assigned the Sarpedona Squadron of rookies and Julia had the experienced ground-attack unit. Tribune Quirinus was trying to strike a good balance with her pilots' and officers' relative levels of experience. The real upside of all that was that we had a surplus of experienced Ritualista and our new maintenance personnel were learning from them at a good rate.

Amid more small talk and, thankfully informal, ice breakers, our food came and we got a bit more comfortable as we settled down to eat our meals. Fabia did have a knack as a raconteur and was able to tell some rather colorful stories, and, despite her relative inexperience, Julia had a good eye for detail.

Far from the worst comrades to serve beside, I decided. So far, my fellow officers seemed like a professional bunch, yet still willing and able to relax in non-professional settings. Compared to some of the professional pains in the ass back in the Imperial army, they're practically the souls of easy comedy.

As our meals started to wind down, Quirinus tapped her glass and our private room fell silent. "Now, I still haven't heard official word on where we will deploy, but I have been given assurances that we will have time to work up our squadrons, muster a full headcount, and have time to train as a Wing."

We all gave light chuckles at the value of assurances.

Our Tribune gave a slight smile. "Quite. While I don't have an official word on our next action; I would recommend those of you new to the colonies look into the history of Harp's World."

I concealed a sigh. There were certainly worse places we could be sent, but Harp's World was a morass, and not even one of our colonies. I also pushed down the flash of guilt that I would have to take her advice as my knowledge of that place was cursory at best. I cursed myself for doing insufficient research and trying to focus on what colonies I presumed we would have to protect.

Let that be a lesson, I told myself sternly. Always expect an out of context assignment when things are running too smoothly.

"We're going to Ziox's Folly?" Fabia asked.

Julia seemed a bit perplexed. "I thought it was called the Great Alecton Write-off?"

"And the Trosic Scrap Harbor." Caenis picked at her meal. "It has a lot of names."

"I've been focusing on familiarizing myself with our colonies, worlds that are one jump from our colonies, and critical enemy holdings. Was a new route to Harp's World discovered recently?" I asked trying to figure out why we would be sent so far afield. One of the main tasks of the Cartographers was to find routes between various worlds, as discovering a "shortcut" could bypass defenses, early warning systems, or simply shorten routes. If a new route had been discovered, our assignment as part of a new element sent to secure that route would make sense...

"No, there was no route change. So, hypothetically, if we were to go there it would be by indirect means: via Vikram to Alecto's rather... sparse colony of Forlorn Prospect and the Alecton hub world of New Batavia."

"Ziox's only significant off-world colony isn't a critical enemy holding?" Fabia asked, giving me a teasing look.

"You're the one who called it Ziox's Folly," I replied, not at all waspishly.

"Why is that? What happened there? I know Alecto sunk a lot into it, and I presume made even more money out of it. Why did Ziox let them in? Were they that desperate?" Julia asked.

"In short, yes. It's the consequence of repeated efforts to keep a failing colony operational," Quirinus said before chewing a dumpling. "Harp's World was full of potential, good mining assays, with various minerals, metals, and some rare arcane prospects, middling landmass, but what was there had great potential for cropland, and good climate. Overall, ideal for colonization, save that they didn't have a direct route there from Diyu and still haven't found one. Ziox had it all to themselves for a long time."

"That's where the problems started. It's the typical story: colonists and settlers wanted to get out from under the bickering Great Houses, only to realize that the Dictatrix's agents were right behind them and wanted to ensure that their new world's economy would profit Ziox," Fabia said before eating more of her curry and battered fish. "And of course, in the time honored tradition, the people most interested in xeno-colonization are the ones least invested in supporting their former home."

"There was a resistance movement?" Julia asked, digging into the spicy bed of shrimp fried rice and mixed vegetables with a beef broth.

"A completely organic one, yes. It's not like the Household Fleet has been seen operating on Harp's World beyond the occasional show-the-flag visit," Caenis assured in a pointedly dry tone while forking a piece of her steak-like cut of fish. We all knew that the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance was more than willing to meddle in the affairs of other Houses and we all knew that the Household Fleet had a small selection of, discreet and small, airships at the beck and call of august organizations like CSR, or the Palace Librarians.

That said, it certainly sounds like our spook shave no shortage of martial to work with already waiting for them on Harp's World.

"Ziox was quite new to the off-world colony game when they settled Harp's World," I commented, taking a guess based on what little I had read about the disputed colony in question, "and I'm sure that certain Great Houses on their border would not want a stronger House Ziox".

Fabia smiled. "Quite so. Ziox was soon faced with a choice: abandon the colony or go bankrupt trying to keep it under control while also building up infrastructure. Paying for the same refinery over and over again gets rather costly, and shipping in food for your occupation forces is not a good long term prospect."

"But they picked a third option?" Julia ventured, her confidence growing. "That's when they opened settlement on Harp's World up to other Houses, but... not Alecto?"

Fabia laughed. "Correct, although that was sort of recognition of the pre-exiting state of affairs more than a real change in policy. Alecton rates on investing in an area under open revolt were too much for Ziox at the time. House Trosier on the other hand..."

"Made efforts that were only desultory at best, and generally kept to their own enclaves," Quirinus added. "The armada had narrow ambitions but was willing to take advantage and help a dear ally."

"But that got the ball rolling, right? Ziox got more funds out of their concessions and..." I paused to recall. "They started granting local autonomy to the settlers, didn't they?"

"They had to. After the last Great House War scuttled their dreams of sweeping over central Diyu, Ziox was left in a bad enough position, at least in the near term. They had to do something to stop hemorrhaging money, material, and lives, and xeno-world colonies are edge budget items to divest when the cuts come calling. Pacifying Harp's World became utterly untenable when the post-war austerity hit." Fabia gave a slight chuckle. "Though their pride was loath to admit to it, Ziox did relent. That much red ink has a way of making even stubborn necks bend."

No wonder Samoth focused on mercenary work for Diyu Minor Houses; Harp's World probably had plenty of opportunity for work, but the locals likely had no love for their erstwhile masters, which greatly increased the risk with no commensurate increase in profit. Anathema to a mercenary.

"Placating the locals was only part of it," Fabia continued. "They needed more investment, more people, more resources, more than they could scrape up from within Ziox."

"House Ziox is not exactly long on friends," Lady Julia noted with a smugness that was rather typical of our kind, although I did note she seemed to hold a special animosity for House Ziox. If her origins were as I thought, I could easily understand why.

"Especially with Trosier being miserly, only transporting the minimal number of rust-buckets to secure their enclaves, and Irkella focused on their own imperial colonies," Fabia agreed, taking an unmistakable glee in Trosier's woes.

Julia's violet eyes lit up. "That's how Alecto got involved! Harp's World stabilized enough to be worth their while!"

"Not just them, Elena got involved too, right?" I ventured testing my recollections and cursing my insufficient diligence as I heard my own hesitancy. "Though not as much, mostly to secure access to choice pharmacological and alchemical extractions?"

"Correct, both of you." Quirinus gave a nod of approval. "Things progressed from there, autonomy became independence over time. Territories fractured and fought, but by that point there was enough Great House investment to put a lid on local affairs... vehemently."

"And thus Harp's World became home to two colonial Minor Houses. House Douha with House Ziox and, to a lesser extent, House Trosier as patrons, and House Umic with Alecto and, to a lesser extent, House Elena as patrons," Fabia explained whilst finishing up her plate. "And all the involved Great Houses also maintain territorial enclaves. Not to mention the various fragmenting Free Cities."

"And... we might be going to this snake pit?" Julia asked with exasperation.

"Welcome to the offworld colonies," Fabia announced grandly with a broad smirk.

"I didn't hear anything about House BlackSky's involvement in this mess," Julia point out, with the air of someone probing a contract's article in search for a way out.

"I am greatly reassured that even without the pressures of Diyu itself, our people's standards of diplomacy and harmony continue," I replied with false levity to ritual amusement around the table. Even with the potential of vast territory already under our talons, our Houses would squabble, bicker, and bleed, spending more and more into a colony that would almost certainly never generate sufficient provides to balance the sheet in the next century. Sunk cost upon sunk cost, all reason blinded by pride and ego and a need to always contest every scrap of territory over which another banner flew.

"What kind of resources - that is, military assets - do Houses Douha and Umic have?" Julia asked, eyes serious as she scanned the faces of the senior commanders present. And also mine.

"I don't have the exact numbers memorized but by Minor House standards they're populous and fairly coherent, so good in infantry but lacking in heavier equipment. No off-world capability, air assets aren't bad, mostly fixed wing, but not much in the way of carriers or large ships of any kind," Fabia shrugged. "Generally short-ranged projection if they extend outside of their enclaves at all."

"Douha is larger but worse off, as their patrons don't have as much to sell and are less inclined to make them stronger; Ziox likely still dreams of 'reunification' and doesn't feel like nurturing any impediments to that end," Quirinus said, with a wry smile as she dug into to her salad. The Tribune had a habit of eating her greens last, just before dessert.

"Meanwhile Umic is smaller and Alecto will be happy to sell them whatever they want, either for hard currency, trade, or leasing mineral rights." Fabia shook her head. "What would be our role there? If any Great House were to play peacemaker on Harp's World it would be Elena," she said before her tail flicked, understanding blossoming in her eyes. "Oh."

"That is speculative," Quirinus sternly stated. "Though it is known that the Great Houses who patronize Harp's World do keep... reasonable garrisons."

"Can we speculate as to our, theoretical of course, role? Epsilon Wing has considerable air to ground capability. If this was just an air action, or a large target, why not Fleet assets?" I asked sipped my tea contemplatively and pointedly not meeting anybody else's eyes.

Picking up her wine glass Fabia nodded along. "Yes, the girls in their spiffy white uniforms are good as long as the enemy is large and slow or small and fast. Anything in between or on the ground is why the Imperatrix has us Legionaries."

Julia idly toyed with her own cup, lost in thought. "Four squadrons is a fair bit to move, that'll take at least a Mellona Medium carrier. Or maybe a Damocles Light and a Kolibri Patrol carrier."

"And that's not even taking whatever ground assets we'd be supporting into consideration," Caenis added in a tone so pointedly mild I wondered what she knew that we did not.

"I don't know if we will be sent there," Quirinus said, giving us all measured looks. "But I want us to be operating as a cohesive unit one that can provide significant, precise, powerful ground support on demand while also defending ourselves from aerial counterattack."

I spooned up some more of my soup as I turned the matter over in my head, savoring the savory and salty broth. That little nugget all but confirmed we would be supporting some type of ground operation, which was admittedly the general remit of a Legionary Flier and thus not a significant surprise.

"Do we have a timeline? Even a vague one?" Julia asked with the air of a woman already making plans in her head. "It would be good to know how much training time I have with my girls."

That was a very good question. It would make a big difference if we were shipping out tomorrow, next week, or next month.

Quirinus smiled indulgently as she looked over us, clearly enjoying the finger of brandy left in her crystal flute. "I can't give you a firm answer, but we should get at least a month before embarkation. As I am sure you have all surmised, we won't be the only assets tapped for this role."

I kept in a tiny frown. Unless the mission were very short and we'd quickly make it back home, I was likely to spend my birthday and even the Feast of DarkStar out on Harp's World. Though it would take a lot for eitehr to be worse than my thirteenth birthday, spent out in the Crocelli jungles, let alone all the birthdays of my previous life spent out in the Rhine Front or other muddy hell-holes.

"And they'll need training too?" Fabia asked. "Another new unit? Or a specialized mission?"

Quirinus gave a thin smile. "It would be rather risky to have all freshly founded units sent out on a mission."

That caused a generally pensive reaction from us. BlackSkyvian doctrine, developed over centuries, frequently made for complicated ground missions. Of all the mission types that doctrine accounted for, there were few operations more fraught and intricate than a contested landing. Indeed, the Imperial Legions specialized in the sort of air assault often paired with those landings, that is, deploying anything from a Century to Cohort to Legion to Corpus Incursio to assist the hoof-sloggers in their efforts to bite and hold. And now our Tribune was implying that we might be going to Harp's World to support something above that already-high bar.

With only four Squadrons involved, the ground component had to be a few Cohorts at most, also called a Vexillatio, in size. Unless other RP assets would be attached at a further date, of course. The number of Legionaries involved would be even smaller than that scant handful if our Squadrons were tasked with providing heavy fire support in lieu of armored vehicles, as was often done in raids where mobility and a quick egress were of primary importance.

"What about an opportunity to train and coordinate with these hypothetical other units?" I asked, keeping the concern out of my voice. I was not sure what our mission would be, but based on our numbers I suspected we would not be part of a conventional invasion.

And while it was reassuring that my House was likely not going to jump into a pit with half a dozen other factions as part of some grandiose imperial land-grab, I had a personal and acute worry about the kind of operations my House would conduct with a small number of RP Squadrons. A Demi-wing could facilitate a lot of BlackSkyvian skullduggery.

"I am trying to get that arranged, sooner rather than later," Quirinus assured, seemingly taking in my concerns.

"If scheduling does not allow for this we will have to lean on our standard training and the expectation Legionaries have for their Legion Fliers," Caenis said piously.

Julia and Fabia both gave her minutely aggrieved gazes as their tails flicked. There was nothing insubordinate in their brief glares, but I could understand why the Sarpedona Pilots would feel they were more familiar with supporting the poor hoof-slogger than some Harmonia fly-girl.

I was not so perturbed, in part because I knew Caenis was not trying to be patronizing, but also because I knew her personally. I had fought beside the Prefect Centurion and I knew she had experience giving precise fire-support and had been eager to learn and apply my training improvements during our time back at FOB EmeraldInferno. "There are a few methods we can apply to help with our training, even if we can't work with the forces we'll be supporting before the fact."

"Yes, I have tried some of the methods you developed last year. It's a good refinement, ideal for small units that have dedicated support," Fabia confirmed, nodding as she telegraphed support in front of the two other commanders present.

Quirinus gave me a sharp smile.

"Ah, then perhaps I can give a lecture on the subject or..." I glanced around the table. "Set up a training scenario based around it after you've had time to instruct your squadrons?" I offered, adjusting my schedule on the fly.

"That would be excellent," Julia said, nodding along with an appreciative smile. Clearly, she grasped the conclusion our Tribune had led us to reach. I had my suspicions why she was unable, or unwilling, to tell us exactly where we were going or what kind of forces we would be supporting, and they were not pleasant.

"If you'll forgive me, I may have been threatening my rookies with your reputation, Countess, both facing your squadron and your training exercises," Fabia's smile turned icy. "Please tell me you won't disappoint and your fancy girls will be set up in ground-attack configuration for such an exercise?"

I returned with a toothy grin. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Quirinus sipped some of her plum brandy, a sly smile dancing on her wet lips. "Fabulous. I thought the four of you would get along. I am sure we shall accomplish great things together."

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A gaggle of broodlings watched me, wide-eyed. Attention rapt, their tails swished as they sat around me in a loose semi-circle. I held a folded paper figure in each hand and used them to simulate the position of myself and my wingwoman. Overhead, my Zephyr blew around four more bits of folded paper.

"And then what?" a too-adorable orphan with brown hair in pigtails asked.

"She killed them all, dummy!" a younger broodling with long amethyst hair said waspishly.

"PurpleFire, language!" snapped the stern Sister standing behind them.

I held up a hand, idly twisting the folded shape that represented myself. "It's possible that my war stories might be over-stimulating them," I admitted as overeager air spirits decided to spin the enemy Flight up into a curving climb and down into a strafing run over the broodlings, much to their amusement.

"You have been telling... cleaned up tales." The Sister sniffed, though she smiled fondly at the display. "And I suppose that keeps them more engaged than if you had come to quote scripture at them."

"Still, I think we're getting close to lunch-time." I bowed my horns and with a slip of concentration some of the paper figures began to glide down to the grass. My wings ruffled and all the figures began to rise up again on renewed currents. That I was at the orphanage in my capacity as a Legionary Flier meant I could thankfully wear my uniform instead of my novitiate sister habit. There were many reasons I had no interest in proselytizing to these girls.

"But how did you defeat the nasty Diluvians?" PurpleFire whined, eager to hear the end of my story.

"Okay, I'll finish it up," I said, waving my hand in a placating gesture, simultaneously tossing out a handful more figures to be caught by my Zephyr. Made of scrap paper, the figures were folded much like a paper airplane and could similarly glide like quite nicely, but in a concession to my story were vaguely demon shaped.

Resuming my story, I started to pace. The colorful paper cloud swirled around me, and as I regaled the children with stories of ardent glory, I could reflect that Company-Kapten Samoth Rodswor had a point. Here I was, telling stories of BlackSkyvian aggression and might to entice young war orphans to one day sign up for the service, to quest after honor and renown in the same uniforms their parents might once have worn.

After all, was I not an example of how an orphan raised by Our Hallowed Lady could go on to achieve great things? And didn't the martial glory I exemplified in their young eyes give a meaning to a life robbed of relations and family, left to the Church to raise and one day advance the cause of the House onwards?

The bloodthirsty little terrors cheered when my story reached its brutal crescendo and they mobbed over the figures that represented each fallen enemy flier to claim their prizes. The tatters of shredded papers rose where those prizes fell into dispute, each combatant striving to seize that which was rent asunder by their efforts.

The petty savagery of greedy little demons aside, it was nice to use this skill for something entertaining. Using my Zephyr for this style of minute control was something I had figured out towards the tail-end of my rotation as a cadet instructor. It was an amusing turn that I would use it first to awe broodling before I use it to overawe my House's foes.

Glancing up at the orphanage's clock tower, Sister Dignitas at last clapped her hands. "Girls, time to wash up for lunch. Thank the Prefect Centurion Countess for her time."

The broodlings, thankfully all younger than myself, bowed their horns before scrambling back up to their feet. Picking up my case, I handed out the remainder of the paper figures I had made to ensure that each got at least one intact poppet. I also handed out some small gift sets of chocolates, crayons, chew-sticks, and a couple DarkStar coloring books. Practical gifts like socks would be given later. We were in a partially-enclosed courtyard that overlooked some undulating fields to the south of Mursam Victrix.

"Looks like rain," I conversationally said as the Sister watched her charges make their way back inside the stone building. Remarkably solid, it dated to not far past the colony's founding.

Tail flicking, Dignitas glanced up at the sky. "Perhaps; you would know," she said, her tone a bit tight. She was a tall, austere woman with just a tinge of violet to her features. The Sister's duty was a challenging one, given the biological, and developmental, dependencies broodlings had.

"I am sorry for imposing and distracting the girls."

"Oh, it's not that," she said as we followed the orphans inside.

Entering the plain foyer, I frowned. Perhaps she was worried about the negative influence of my presence.

"Countess, a moment?" a merry voice asked respectfully.

"Of course, Reinhild," I said, giving a slight bow of my horns to the kitsune. I put the now-empty wooden crate by her feet among the others.

"I trust your aide's work has concluded?" the Sister asked me. "But... were all of those forms really necessary? I don't think I've ever seen their like before..."

"The paperwork is all in order," the maid assured her while giving me a tiny nod. She carried a briefcase for papers and several large cases for later on. Only one contained socks and other sartorial sundries.

Well, that was one less matter to worry about. "I do apologize, Sister," I explained, turning to the nun. "But given my age, a tithe at such a level has to get the approval of my seneschal and my Duchess. I even had to go through the same process to become a patron of the orphanage that raised me."

"Ah, I suppose that does make sense." The sister seemed mollified with my excuse.

It helped that it was the truth, technically. While Duchess SilverFlight and Seneschal Alexi Frugi would have to approve the funding, when it came to supporting a Church-sponsored orphanage I doubted they would do anything but rubber-stamp my request. However, I wanted to make sure the Sisters were not skimming funds, abusing the system, or engaged in any other malfeasance. Hence, setting a fox into their - fiscal - henhouse under the guise of due diligence.

"Well, let us go in and have some lunch; it is simple fare but..." Dignitas caught herself. "You would know, I suppose."

"Honest and filling," I agreed and put on a smile. "Besides, some of the rations in the Legions made me quite homesick."

I sat with the sisters and it was less awkward than I feared. It helped that the stew was good and the bread was fresh and the broodlings were getting plenty. One upside of going to Church functions with my Mother Clementia as a novitiate was that I learned how to make ecclesiastical small-talk.

"You've really brightened up the girls' day," a Sister sitting across from Dignitas said.

"I'm happy to have given some small measure of help; you have been wonderful hosts," I said, dabbing my napkin to my lips. "Being here reminds me of home." I took a moment to realize that was... true.

"What is the City of Trees like?"

"Silvana is bustling; it has some lovely cathedrals and history, but it can be very busy, almost overwhelming," I admitted, worried about how open I was being with the sisters. I concentrated on my lunch, hoping the conversation would return to dormancy.

"The chapel won't be used for a couple hours." Sister Dignatas offered, seemingly misreading my apprehension. "If you would like some private worship, we can make it available."

"That... I would be honored for such an opportunity," I said with a smile. Some quiet time alone would be a good way to wrap up this visit. I would avoid having to tell more impressionable young broodlings about the Legions and Ritual Plate.

As the meal concluded, I tried to help cleanup and police the dishes. However, Reinhild practically shoved me out of the kitchen seizing the load of bowls from my hands as she "escorted" me out of the way, and I soon found myself in the orphanage's modest chapel bereft of any task I could assist with.

Built from the same cut stone as the rest of the complex, the chapel was a humble affair, which was a reassuring statement on fiscal priorities. Though I found I could not begrudge the sisters for having spent a bit extra on comfortable pews. The chapel had a hushed presence and light shone in through the stained-glass windows. Plaques on the bottom of the ones on either side of the nave proudly listed the notables of Mursam who had donated generously to the orphanage over the years.

I brushed past those and went to the altar and knelt in the light of the four pointed star in the center of the large window over the altar. Simple, almost abstract statuary made up much of the altars accoutrements along with a rather modest reliquary to one side.

Moving by familiar rote I lit candles for my late adoptive sister, my birth parents, and made the requisite donations befitting my station and the social obligation of charity. With a bit of will, I lit the candles and put them with the other offerings. The flames burned purple-red and flickered for a moment before steadying.

Aged wood beams supported the roof far above my head. Hanging from the seasoned wood were endless banners bearing the names of all of the orphans who had passed through this institution. The banners rustled in a slight breeze that I couldn't feel so far below them as I knelt in front of the altar again and let the peacefulness of the place overtake me. The chapel had much of the same comfortable, timeless serenity as the rest of the orphanage.

My wings twitched as my hands clasped tighter. In quiet moments like this, I truly felt my age, both physical and mental. Familiar words mechanically crossed my lips as I beseeched the long-gone DarkStar for wisdom, tenacity, and grace. In truth, I wondered what the real DarkStar, the demon instead of the venerated goddess, would have thought of the worshipful cult that had spring up around her memory. When... no if she returned, per the dogma, what would her reaction be to the religion which had grown around her and all the things done in her name?

Religion had been a key part of the cultural bonding and civic rituals common across all three of my lives. While my participation in the rituals of my first life had been entirely performative, my relationship with religion in my second life had bee much more contentious. Adversarial even, Being X had demanded I comply with its wishes or die. No contract made under such duress could be considered binding, and like in my first life not a hint of sincerity entered my rituals.

Suddenly, my mind sprang from meditative calm to sharp-eyed clarity as a tiny bit of warmth radiated from my earrings as they filled with just a bit more energy. Above me, the name-dripping banners whipped a bit in a phantom wind and my tail stilled as I felt a presence drawing close.

For a horrified movement I thought the archangel might appear, disturbing this moment.

Instead, the door at the far end of the nave opened, revealing a woman waiting at the threshold. She was not one of the sisters nor anyone else I had met today. I finished my obeisance, stood back up, and turned around and tried not to give her a gimlet stare.

Given that the woman looked away, clearly I had failed. "Ma'am!" She saluted. "I apologize for disturbing you!"

Striding across the nave as the candles flickered anew, I studied the woman. She was quite tall, willowy without being gaunt. She had long glossy hair with somewhat messy bangs. Her legs were long enough that, despite my decided lack of vanity, even I felt a pang of jealousy. She must have been just under the maximum height limit for the sizes Ritual Plate components were produced in. I could sympathize given I was towards the other end, but not as close as I had been before I had started to grow taller in my teen years. Alas, my Vs had also continued to grow, which was... not entirely a negative, even if they still towered over me.

Sharp-featured to almost patrician levels, my visitor had a narrow chin and calculating amethyst eyes. Her tailfins, horns, and hooves were gold and she looked down before she met my gaze with a flash of hauteur that I found rather familiar, perhaps from long experience with troublesome aristocrats. But that quickly passed as she took in the chapel. It was still but for the flickering candles and rusting banners. Based on some sort of internal calculation, she opted to give me a gracious smile that was only slightly tinged with apprehension, which was also rather familiar...

Ah, I did know her. "Primus Centurion Lucia Hood?" I asked, returning the salute with a tilt of my head and flick of my wrist.

"Yes, Ma'am!" she replied eagerly, glancing over to the tiered rack of votive candles with their purple flames as she did so. Odd, was she unfamiliar with the symbolism?

This was the head of my new third Flight. I had been told to expect her in two days, which would have been a week after the Squadron Commander dinner where Quirinus had hinted at our deployment. Stranger and stranger, as Lucia was BlackSkyvian and stationed on the Moon of Lantia, so she should have some familiarity with the Church of DarkStar.

My eyes narrowed at the towering demon before me, all sharp edges and darting eyes.

"You're impressively early. Do you have your routing orders?" I asked affecting, a casual tone. It might have been paranoia, but I wanted a measure of assurance that I was not talking to someone who had merely taken the form of my subordinate and purloined a Legionary uniform with the markings of Primus Centurion with the Volantes specialty.

Looking to the altar, she quickly made the four points of DarkStar's eponymous star over her chest. It was not a gesture that the Order of the Hallowed Lady, the faith I was raised in, used for everyday ceremonies, but others, such as the Order of the Martyred Lady, did use it as a part of their routine obeisance.

"Sorry!" Lucia opened her slim messenger case and pulled out a missive.

I took it and read. The orders were valid and an idle trace of my finger elicited the correct magical responses from the various seals. More reassuring was that a memo slip was added to the order stack. With the heading "3rd Squadron, Epsilon Wing, 78th Legion", it was one of the lot Reinhild had ordered for my command.

I paused; when had I become the type of officer to bring her own servant to a combat posting? Stationary and staffing aside, the memo was signed by Visha, who said she had started integrating Flight Three's personnel and equipment. The suspicious part of me noted that someone could still have waylaid the real Centurion Hood and taken both the documentation and her form.

"My second told you where to find me?" I asked, folding the orders up and offering them back.

"Yes, Primus Shadow was quite helpful, but no, please keep them," Lucia said with her tail idly swishing. "After I gave her the status reports and maintenance logs for my Flight and made our introductions, I asked if I could meet with you." She somehow made the routine request sound like it was some dearly held wish on her part.

"And... she sent you out here?" I asked, keeping my tone level as I slipped the communiqué and orders into a hidden pocket on my uniform blouse. I might have to give Visha a quiet word about boundaries.

"I'm not surprised that you're at an orphanage. Myself and my younger sister had conflicts with our mothers but..." Lucia trailed off awkwardly, clearly aware that she had made a blunder and equally unclear about how to extract her hoof from that hole. After a moment, she opted for blunt sincerity. "And I am sorry to disturb you at prayers!"

"No need." I waved it off and pondered on her fidgeting disquiet. "If you're not comfortable here, we can step outside. House BlackSky is pluralistic and I have members of many faiths in my Squadron."

Lucia gave a graceful, but practiced, smile. "Oh no, Ma'am, I'm a member. I'm not that pious but..." Her admission came with an unconscious step back. "But I did do some joint missions with an Andromachin Pilot who was also a chaplain, so I am used to those of a fervent belief."

I laughed, understanding just what she meant. "Well, you don't need to worry; I'm not that religious either. I'm clearly not one for proselytizing..." I slowed as I remembered my recent encounter with the broodlings, and amended my statement with, "for the Church."

Looking around at the nave and altar again, Lucia gave an obliging nod. "I am a tiny bit surprised to see you being so deeply engaged in a chapel like this and not a grand cathedral."

"Oh, I've been to the cathedrals in the City of Trees. They are nice, but overstated. I prefer the small honest chapels like this one; it reminds me of my childhood," I said, my tone reassuring. I did not want my new subordinate to think I was someone obsessed with pomp and ritual.

Lucia nodded dutifully.

"How did your Flight get in so early?" I idly asked.

"I managed to get us a slot on a Teleport Gateway," she replied with deserved pride. Providing a direct point to point transit, Gateways were always in high demand and their considerable throughput would be used for critical assets in spite of their limitations.

Weighing over a hundred tons and very expensive, Gateways had to be built in twinned pairs which could only teleport items between each other. Requiring considerable shipboard power or a dedicated power-plant, they also had to be retuned whenever one of the pair was moved. The least restrictive part was the size of the teleportation chamber which objects had to fit fully within; just about everything in the Imperial Legion's inventory could fit. From artillery pieces to trucks, from tanks to Umbra VTOLs, almost every piece of gear could be maneuvered to fit into the chamber. The Household Fleet was less lucky.

Regardless, a Gateway pair was an excellent line of communication that allowed for the transit over four thousand tons per day one way or half that if items and people were being shipped in both directions.

"And how did you manage that?" I asked. "Did you get a direct transfer from Lantia to here?" The Gateways linking the Colonia Mursam Castramagnus back to major bases on Diyu were very busy. As were the Gateways linking the Primus Anchorage to Diyu, but maybe the links between Lantia and Mursam weren't as busy.

"It was a bit of lucky timing and cashing out some favors with the girls in the embarkation facility." Lucia's smile faded. "It's not like they'll do me any good out here. I tell you, I've done plenty of teleporting but going via Gateway feels more... intense and focused, you know?"

"I haven't had the experience; this is my first time off Diyu," I admitted, affecting a casual tone. The charging and cool down times to go from Lantia to Diyu and Diyu to Mursam would add up to about a full day. Another day could easily be added in time, waiting at the Anchorage, then unloading at a base in Diyu, waiting to board an outgoing airship, and unloading in Mursam. "But glad to hear you were able to save time, that'll give us a leg up on training."

Lucia seemed surprised at my lack of colonial experience, but she hid it politely enough. "Yes Ma'am, I promise my Flight shall not slow you down. We are poised and prepared," she promised eagerly with a reassuring, almost courtly, diction.

I gave an encouraging smile. Primus Centurion Hood was experienced and her file brimmed with glowing recommendations, but I made a mental note to make sure her exuberance did not lead her into trouble. I had enough trouble as it was, worrying about LoveBlood, who I was certain would be trying to prove her Flight of greenhorns were worthy in short order. "Do you mind if we talk outside?"

Guilt flashed over Lucia's face as she studied the altar. "I'd like to, um..." Tail flicking, her eyes went to the votive candles merrily burning. "Have a moment to say some prayers first."

"Of course, I'm so sorry for being presumptive," I assured. "Please, take all the time you need."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Lucia gave a tiny laugh. "And don't worry, I never thought you, of all people, would get in the way of obeisance."

"Perish the thought. If you'll excuse me," I said before making my way down the aisle to the back doors to the chapel. Reinhild was waiting there for me, tails swishing.

The kitsune watched the centurion make her way to the front row of pews over my shoulder as she asked, "A new subordinate?"

"It looks that way." I passed Reinhild the routing orders and Visha's message. "Do you have it?"

After inspecting the paperwork, the maid's more-vulpine-than-usual grin turned somber as she lifted up the large cases she carried, one in each hand, by the rope handles stapled to their lids.

"Good," I said, existing the chapel and letting the door ghost shut behind Reinhild, "we have time for a little trip."

Reinhild nodded thoughtfully. "Are you concerned about this new centurion?"

"Should I be?" I quietly asked. We were thankfully alone in this part of the orphanage.

"I can't say, Ma'am, but if this isn't one of the memo sheets I ordered for you then it is an exquisite forgery, as are the orders and Visha's handwriting. Still..."

Tail flicking I gave Lucia a final look before stepping into the corridor beyond the chapel. "She looks like my third Flight Leader and has the uniform and paperwork."

Reinhild SunShower shrugged.

"I'm just being cautious. When we get back to base, I can confirm she is who she is," I explained as we walked a bit further down the hallway and looked out a set of windows onto the grounds. The sky had turned overcast but it did not feel like rain just yet. Good.

"Prudent," my maid remarked, her voice diffident without a hint of reproach.

I sighed. "She is promising, and it will be nice to have my Squadron up to strength."

"But?" Reinhild asked

"She's not a rookie, thank DarkStar, but Primus Hood is still young and keen."

"And you prefer cynical subordinates tempered by experience," Reinhild said in the overly proper tone servants cultivated to deniably imply impertinence.

"We shall see."

"Maybe she's intimidated by finally meeting an Imperial Hero and is trying to puff herself up."

"She's a foot and a half taller than me."

"All the more reason to paint herself as sufficiently hard-charging to someone she sees as a young, pious, and aggressive leader."

My tail curled as I saw the logic. Fear of not impressing the boss could cause all sorts of cascading problems in an organization. "Perhaps," I allowed.

Patting me on the shoulder in a gesture that was not a hug, the kitsune smiled and stepped back.

Turning, I walked back to the chapel and found that Lucia had lit a votive candle and was crossing the nave towards the door, where Reinhild and I stood. She looked oddly serene as the banners fluttered above her and a gust of wind went past her to circle around me before turning quiescent. Purple eyes widened slightly, she saluted again, baring her neck and motioning with her fingers. "Thank you for your patience, Ma'am."

I returned the gesture. "Come, let's have a walk outside before it starts to rain."

"As you say!" Her eyes went to Reinhild.

"This is Miss SunShower; a Rorarri Auxilia Scout and my aide." I tried to sound offhand.

Seemingly transfixed by the waving fluffy tails, the tall Legionary Flier nodded and quietly followed us down the hall, out a set of doors, and down some steps. Thank DarkStar someone on my staff, other than LoveBlood, was accepting of having a maid around.

"What got you to agree to a transfer to a colonial position?" I asked as we walked down the pathway that skirted past the orphanage's vegetable gardens and meandered out roughly towards the orchards. Reinhild had slipped behind us and with a subtle enough nudge got the dark-haired pilot walking next to me instead of dogging my foosteps.

"Have you ever been to Lantia?" She winced. "Sorry, you said this is your first time off Diyu."

"No apologies," I said soothingly with a warm smile. "I was ambiguous; some do think of Lantia and Emuria as part of Diyu, that is if the colloquial definition of Diyu as our Homeplane instead of Diyu as the continent is used." I looked up into the mostly cloudy sky. "I'm still getting used to looking up and seeing only one small moon."

"I was told that not seeing Diyu above us could be disconcerting. That's part of why I wanted the transfer."

"Ah, 'Join the Legions and see the Worlds'?" I chuckled.

"Getting a broader experience base does help in many ways. " Lucia's hair billowed behind her like a banner as she nodded enthusiastically.

"Such as for promotions?" I asked, keeping my tone open.

She nodded. "And my sister wants me to describe to her all the places I'll go."

My tail swished. Well, someone who wanted a more exciting posting to help her career was less risky than someone who wanted more excitement for glory's sake. "Tell me about your Pilots."

"Beyond their dossiers and their Polyxos' maintenance logs, I presume?"

"Just so."

Lucia nodded. "Charity's my wingwoman: solid, experienced flier. She has a wife and twins; cute girls that just hit their teens..." Lucia trailed off as her gaze went down to survey me.

"It's alright," I reassured her, long since familiar with this particular song and dance, "I've had years in the Legions to get used to people noting my age."

"It's not that," the Primus Centurion coughed awkwardly into her hand. "Not exactly. I think Charity's going to ask for maternity leave... Not until, um... What season is it here? Seasons are different up on Lantia, but..."

I laughed. "Early fall. And don't worry. I still feel like it should be spring."

"Yes, we've got a year before it should be an issue," she said as we walked uphill and reached the orchards. The bare trees rustled.

I gave a shrug. Getting maternity leave was a complex process in the Legions. The main part was time in grade but your commander's recommendations could really put a talon on the scale. "Will she be bringing her dependents here?"

"She already put in for on-base housing for them," Lucia said, before breathing in with sudden appreciation. "Oh, that's a lovely view!"

For a moment the three of us silently looked out over the ocean in the distance; the view was part of why I wanted to go on this little walk. "Primus, I don't want to ask this, but do you think Centurion Charity BreezeFlower is at risk of getting pregnant without leave?"

The wide-eyed, horrified reaction Lucia gave was exceptionally open and aghast. "Of course not! She'd never do a thing like that. I was just warning you that she does plan to have more children and her term will be up in a couple years so if she doesn't get maternity leave..."

"Ah, I understand." That was a relief. Soldiers were not perfect and things could happen, but there were many very good reasons no one made Ritual Plate maternity suits. "Honestly, if after twenty years, she thinks she's done enough for the Imperatrix, I can't blame her." One term and out was my plan too.

Giving a smile, Lucia nodded. "That's very gracious of you to say. But I think Charity does want to give more time. Pilots like her are the backbone of the Legionary Flier corps."

"Very true. What of the other two in your Flight? Any minor vices like gambling or drink?" I asked as we started to follow the path down the other side of the hill, closer to the water.

Lucia shook her head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" I gave a sharp smile. "Primus, so far I'm the only teetotaler in my Squadron. Wait no, Octavia, in First Flight, also doesn't drink." I shook my head ruefully, mildly embarrassed at having forgotten that. I could blame it on her being newly under my command after roughly year of being apart, but that was a poor excuse.

"Well, they enjoy a tipple now, and then but IronTalon and Adriana are dependable and depend on each other," Lucia stated, her voice still obediently diffident but I could hear a core of firmness under the subordinate fluff.

"No need to be circumspect. Their relationship is documented in their files." I assured her as my tail swished.

"Naturally, I put that there," Lucia said.

"It's understandable. Many of our pilots are in that prime age, especially the new ones, and are leaving from home for the first time to head straight into a high stress environment full of death and uncertainty." I shrugged. It was a situation that was universal as far as I could tell, no matter the war, no matter the soldiers, no matter the species.

Lucia gave me an opaque look as she, for just a moment, seemed to calibrate her response. "And Legion Command and the Imperatrix are very accommodating, given our natures."

"Naturally." It would be the height of hypocrisy on my part to come down on fraternization in the ranks. Thankfully, Reinhild kept her poker face. "As for the drinking, Signifier GreyDawn maintains the Squadron liquor stock; she also is a deft hand when it comes to cards and other wagers. Between her and Primus Shadow I think any minor concerns can be addressed."

My new subordinate nodded. "It doesn't hurt their flying, and they're competitive with each other." Lucia gave me a calculating look. "Something, you may understand quite well, if rumor is to believed, Ma'am?"

"Yes," I nodded before clarifying. "I am engaged to both Primus Shadow and Primus VioletBlood."

"As the odd Primus out, am I expected to... Well... If not..." Lucia dithered nervously until she rallied and recomposed herself. "I understand."

"No, it's not like that!" I replied immediately, eager to nip this clear misunderstanding in the bud. "I'm informing you of the relationships already existing in the unit so you understand the dynamic."

Lucia gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "I'll just have to carry my weight. Unless the dynamic were to change."

This time Reinhild gave an ever-so-subtle smile. The damned fox!

"That won't be necessary." I rubbed my forehead as we walked down the surprisingly well-maintained path. "But if LoveBlood propositions you, please tell me and I'll take care of her."

"Is that a concern?" Lucia asked, frowning when she saw where we were.

"It shouldn't be." I motioned for Reinhild and she came up and opened the cases revealing a handful of wreaths and numerous individual bouquets of white lilies. The kitsune pulled a list out of the case and handed it to me. Rituals were important, as much for the dead as for those they left behind. For all that I was doing for the living orphans, I could spare a small gesture for those who came back here, for those who had no family plots to go to.

Lucia looked over the small cemetery with its modest headstones. "Can I help?"

I bowed to her. "Of course. We have wreaths for those who were in the Legions, Fleet, Auxilia, and other services, but everyone can get something."

End Chapter 21

Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, ScarletFox , afforess, WrandmWaffles and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

And special thanks Macdjord for giving this chapter and a couple of the starting chapters a look over, and to Readhead for the polish and extra editing especially with the emotional interactions. And don't worry about Lucia.

Good news is that ch22 is also written (it turns out I wrote so much I split the chapter) so there should not be much of a delay for the next part being released.