Roger finally meets Erwan Kerhoued, knight of Vretan and new arrival to the Leopards. But as he tries to learn about him, Roger gets more information on his home planet than he bargained for. Meanwhile, as they talk and reminisce, Hawke and Helene meet each other for lunch, the former thief finally telling the Cadian about his feelings on the new predicament they find themselves in, and the new mission he is being sent on.
But as unplanned and surprising as his oncoming fatherhood is, it will be nothing in comparison to what Erwan will feel after learning the secret of the Leopards...
"You'll have to forgive me, I know plenty of families from Avalon, but I'm a bit ignorant of Vretans, where are you from exactly?"
"The border regions, towards the southwest of Vretand."
"Ah, so you're on the border of Gasceaux."
"Regrettably."
Roger moved towards his desk, pulling a chair for the new member of his unit. Sir Erwan Kerhoued was thankfully not like the average knight: loud, arrogant, and sure of himself to the point of unwarranted self-importance. Even in the little they had interacted since meeting; he could tell that the fight with the Gasc was not the only reason he was pulled off the front line.
"Regrettably?"
"My people have cultural quirks that the Gasc's do not understand, and they are ones to not just live in ignorance but be proud in doing so. And our history is not exactly one of understanding and peace."
"And your family and their lieges took the brunt of it?"
Erwan nodded as he sat down in the offered chair.
"What do you call those lords who live on the edges of Avalon?"
"Marcher lords," Roger said as he offered some water. "The border men."
"Yes. My family has been serving on the marches for as long as Anglerre has been settled."
"So, an insult thrown your way is nothing compared to what your ancestors dealt with?"
"Correct. If only it went both ways."
The Vretan took a sip of water, seeing his new commander's curious glare.
"I would rather not talk about it."
"I need to know if I can trust you, Sir Erwan. I only need to be told about it once, and I will make sure none of the men and women we serve with will know."
His face flashed confusion, maybe a bit upset at the last bit of information.
"Women?"
"We have a Sister of Battle in our retinue."
"That's… quite surprising. I can not say I know of a unit with a Sororitas, and that is before we even think about an Anglois unit being made up of anything but men."
"Does that bother you?"
Erwan ran a finger down the water filled cup.
"I would be lying if I said no."
"Well, that's not even the most surprising member of my unit."
"I like that name by the way. When Prince Edmund told me about it, I was intrigued."
"If there's something I've learned over my five or so years in service to the Guard, you have to know how to advertise yourself."
"Well, I have heard that you come from common stock, so I would assume you know more things about warfare and the way it is conducted than I would. I am afraid I know next to nothing other than patrolling the hills on the borders."
Roger nodded in understanding.
"I'm glad that you don't seem to hold prejudice against my humble beginnings."
"Lord Diazon told me of you while I was preparing to move on station. He said you deserved every tap of the Claw of Gasceaux on your shoulders."
Lord Yann Diazon, the Black Swan of Kas Avor, was something of a living legend in Vretand. Even before the armies of Anglerre had been summoned to go on Crusade, he had been famous for his actions during the War of the Lions, fighting the rebels for King Edward with great distinction. Despite being in his fifties, Roger had seen him leading the regiments of the Duch personally, moving with a grace few, even among his own people and knights, could match.
"I am honored to hear that."
"He also said something about you being…"
Erwan looked around the room, almost looking for prying eyes and ears.
"Fae-born."
"It's true," he replied with a shrug. "What of it?"
"I thought they had been cast out of Avalon entirely. Ran off to the Western Isles or Vretand. I can tell you know little about them, because if you are part Fae, then you must truly be some form of mutant or hybrid."
This caught him completely off guard, being given a lesson in semantics by the young knight. Well, he looked young. Kerhoued might have been Roger's age, maybe a few years younger.
"What?"
"The term we use is Gweryn. The Western Islanders call us Daowyn. The term Fae refers to the Speridou, the protectors of our kin and the forests of Kyrnou."
"Er… I remember being told about Kyrnou and the spirits-"
"Kyrnou is what Anglerre was called before the arrival of the Planjous and the Anglois."
"I was not aware of that."
"Few outside of Vretan or the Isles are. And you cannot read it anywhere; the stories are told by singers or poets. The Avalonians do not like to be reminded that they were conquerors of their own people."
Roger went slack jawed, unable to respond. He had never been told any of this. Hell, he had not heard the Fae referred to as anything but the Fae! Now that he thought about it, anyone he knew, from the Guard to his life on Anglerre, had used the term Fae and Faeborn interchangeably.
"Why… are you telling me this?"
"Our kind must stick together, and there is nothing worse than a man who does not know his own people."
"Well, half. My mother was Faeborn, but my father was pure Anglois-wait, "Our kind?" What do you mean?"
"Come now, Sir Roger. Even you must know that all Vretand, from the top to the bottom, is Gweryn. Myself included. So, you are a half-breed?"
"I don't like the term, but the concept is true."
Erwan took a final gulp of water and nodded.
"Well, you still are part of our kin regardless."
He looked around again and moved towards Roger, as if something of great import was about to be said.
"I have seen them. The Speridou. I heard they were at Acra as well. Never found any trace though."
"Truly? What did they look like?"
"They are tall, limber. Pale, all sorts of colors when they showed their hair. Graceful to the point one finds it eerie. Calm, gentle. They are marvelous, and I thank the Emperor that we are blessed with them protecting our forests and lands. They even have helped my family against Gasc raiders. Have you ever seen them?"
Roger stared blankly at Erwan. He wanted to answer "Every bloody day," but there was a bit of finesse needed for first meetings. Besides, he would meet them soon enough.
"Once, as a child."
"Were you awe struck by them as well?"
"Of course I was. Now can I tell you something, Sir Erwan?"
"What?"
"Telling me all that won't stop you from giving me the details on why you came here. To this station, and me."
The Vretan pulled away and frowned. Roger hid his amusement at dispelling the illusion that the knight had been able to avoid explaining himself.
"You served in Third Corps for all your service?"
"Yes, even when it was just known as the Anglois contingent before we arrived in Haikk."
"Then you know of the Captal and his family, the de Buch's?"
"Of course. He has what, four of his nephews there? I know of Bohemond and the de Poimians."
"Well, do you know Guilhem de Poimian?"
Roger nodded.
"Big, tough bastard. Doesn't he have a brother who came along with him?"
"He… did."
He meekly handed his cup towards Roger for a refill of water.
"Ah."
"The late Rostandus de Poimian was much like his brother but tended to keep his mouth running. Well, more so than usual for the southern ilk. Well one day, the Captal decided to hold a dinner for a set of knights. Vretan, Avalonian, Gasc, and Western Islanders. Held at the Cathedral, you know the one. Rostandus decides to not drink much but berate anyone who is not Gasc. The standard, calling us Fae, the like. But then he said something about Lord Diazon and his actions at Acra. I could not take the insults anymore, and I threw my gauntlet at him."
"Well deserved, by the sound of it."
"Yes, everyone agreed and with the permission of none other than the Captal, we were to duel, as per the laws of Anglois chivalry and all that. So, he and I go a religiously sized distance from holy ground and draw our blades. He was good, but we were about equal, thankfully I had not drunk too much. After a few minutes, we were at a standstill, and the crowd believed that the honor of us both was intact: he had stood his ground, and I had forced him to do so. He may have even been ready to apologize. And erm, then it happened."
"The fatal blow."
"Yes. I had made a bad thrust, and he said something along the lines of me fighting like a woman. I… lost control and made another slash. Neither of us wore helmets, and he did make some swings at my head, but never connected. Mine did."
Erwan's face crumpled, a mix of satisfaction at his skill and embarrassment that it had killed his brother knight.
"Well, despite the Captal saying it was fair, both his family and the de Poimian's did not see it that way. I was held as a hostage, under constant guard by the Captal's men at arms and priests. Then I got word I was to be sent to the Langriano and I was to be in your service. I am somewhat grateful that you accepted me considering my actions."
"Well, the Leopards have always been patrons of lost causes. Myself included."
"Really?"
"The Prince didn't tell you he found me facing a firing squad, did he?"
Erwan looked back in astonishment.
"What?"
"It's a long story-"
"We have plenty of time."
"Aye, we do. Well, it started with this Commissar-"
XXXXXX
Benjamin Hawke had been through many tough scrapes in his life. Robbing churches, manors, even a sheriff once, not because he had anything important, but because the challenge and bragging rights about it were somehow worth it to his young, untested mind. The crystal decanter behind glass, a gift from some Imperial governor that the Langriano saved, would have made his younger self almost salivate.
"Knowing what you've told me about your last job, I hope you're keeping your hands to yourself."
"Trying."
Helene Parell was wearing her standard Cadian uniform, khaki tunic and pants with polished black boots. Considering they were not in a combat setting, she did not wear the symbolic olive-green flak jacket or the standard issue helmet, preferring a green colored side cap they preferred to call a "piss-cutter." The shape of it left little imagination as to why it was referred to as such.
"I'm better than I used to be, I assure you."
"That's not saying much," she chided him. "Lieutenant Mills has said one of his goblets went missing. Considering we were in his office recently-"
"Not me. I only take things when I know how to profit from them, and there are thousands of goblets on this station. Besides, I know which one you're talking about, hard to use and not get noticed. Even if I knew a buyer, they'd be an idiot and I wouldn't associate with them."
"Well, I certainly can't be one then."
He was able to notice almost anything, but it was only now that he finally realized that her uniform, at least near the stomach, was poking out. He may not have worked with idiots, but he certainly felt like one. The two looked at the decanter silently before the Cadian spoke.
"Medics said everything looks good. Five months or so and it'll all be over."
"Lene, I didn't mean to-"
"Neither did I Ben. But things happen."
"Well… I feel bad about it."
She put one hand on his shoulder as the other took one of his, placing it on her belly.
"Did you really think we'd get away scot-free, considering how much fucking we do?"
"Well, I thought that we used enough protection."
"Pfff! And I bet you think the rubbers they give out in the rations aren't cheap groxshit."
"I didn't expect to have a kid on the way, that's all I know."
Helene pulled his hand off her and started walking down the station correidor. The decanter was their place to meet, about halfway between the station's bridge and the Leopards barracks.
"How're the rest of the guys doing?"
"Oh, the same. Davie's still in charge of us, Bob's… Bob."
"Parky and the Bolter Bitch?"
"That poor boy's going to have a broken pelvis in a year or two, I'm certain of it."
Helene giggled. Even during her brief time with the Leopards, the one-sided affection Evita showed towards the youngest member of the unit was obvious to her.
"And Roger?"
"Sir Roger, you should know better," he said with a wink. "Nothing's changed with him. Stressed out and trying to keep us in line. We got a new member of the unit. Another knight, Vretan."
"Really? You met him yet?"
"No, I don't think he's gotten to us. Heard he got into trouble back on Haikk Four, so I'm sure he'll fit in just fine."
"All of you seem pretty good at getting yourselves neck deep in shit, so I'd agree."
They moved towards the nearby canteen, getting a tray full of what was charitably described as "edible." They sat down at a table, Helene moving slower than usual for obvious reasons.
"And what about the uh-"
"Abhumans?" Hawke said with a mouth full of what could only be described as slop.
"Y-yeah."
"Less of them than before. Kallen asked about you."
"Don't tell him about the kid. Or what I look like now."
Her voice seemed deadly serious.
"Uh, ok. Why?"
"Just don't."
"Alright."
"Speaking of the Boss, I spoke with him about us and the, er, other new arrival coming soon. He says if we want to marry, we have his permission."
She held a spoonful of gruel near her mouth, staring at Hawke.
"I uh, don't think we're ready for that."
"What? We're having a bloody kid together, and you're worried about getting married?"
"I don't exactly have a good opinion of marriage, and my mother and father weren't good teachers. I'd rather just let our kid figure things out themselves."
He stared in disbelief at Helene, baffled by what she was saying.
"You don't want to give the kid a family?"
"I didn't really have one, so I wouldn't know how to do that. Cadian families are not exactly… nice. From damn near birth, you're expected to serve the Guard. My father was a tanker who treated us like a platoon more than a family. My mother was part of the Interior Guard and was killed by a cult they were taking down. Half my brothers are dead, and I have no idea what my sisters are doing. I wouldn't be a good mother; I know them, and I know myself. Do you think you'd be a good father?"
Hawke slammed his fist down on the table, a few faces in the canteen turning to look at them both.
"Did you actually know your mother? Your father?"
"Well, yes-"
"My mother was a whore whose name my pa couldn't remember, died giving birth to me. Had enough personal pride to think it was worth taking me and trying. Did his best until he got caught doing the same type of work I was good at and got strung up when I was twelve. I know what happens to kids that don't have families, good or bad, and I'll be damned if the same happens to ours, even if you don't agree!"
She had never seen him so dedicated and sure of anything like this, even when it came to fighting and being with her.
"I like that you're willing to go that far, but I don't think I'm ready."
"And I don't think I'm ready to be a dad, but at least I'm willing to try."
"That's not fair, and you know it."
"Look," he said while rubbing his forehead. "I wanted to tell you that we're going on a mission. Longer than usual, not some few days or weeklong hit and run. Long term, weeks, months. I'm gonna use that time to think about a lot. You, me, the kid. And I hope that you'll use that time to do the same."
"Is it going to be dangerous?"
"When don't we do something dangerous?"
She held her tongue, wanting to curse him out for dropping this suddenly on her, but she had been with the Leopards before. Red Edmund trusted them with the hardest and most risky operations that Anglerre and the Haikk Crusade could send one on.
"Are you leaving today?"
"We have a couple of days until we leave. But I wanted to let you know now because I didn't want to just drop that on you."
The Cadian giggled and put a hand on his cheek.
"You're too cute to leave, you know that? It's why I keep coming back to your dumb, insufferable ass."
"And you're no better," he said with a grin.
"Damn straight."
"Apparently we're going to be with a regiment from some planet called Konstantonoi, ever hear of them?"
"Yeah, a few times on the comms deck. They're assholes, believe themselves smarter and better than anyone else. But you want to know something crazy about them?"
"Sure."
"You know how every planet must give a tithe of Guardsmen? When they hand it over, only about half are their own people."
Hawke looked at her in confusion.
"How?"
"They hire mercenaries, so they barely have to send any of their own soldiers."
"Is that even legal?"
"They have the money to do it, and the Imperium gets their troops. No one wants to argue the specifics I guess."
"Why the fuck doesn't Anglerre do that," he grumbled. "We pull enough gold from the mines in the west and enough food we ship off to the hives across the Imperium that we could afford it."
Helene shook her head in disappointment. To a Cadian like her, even one as sarcastic and resistant to higher authority, to avoid service to the Guard was as heretical as denying the Emperor himself.
"Because it's your duty. That and the Guard's shat the bed in this Segmentum so hard that they need every man they can get. Once we get the actual professionals here, you'll all go home."
"You believe that piss? You're not even Anglois and you think they won't fuck us over like they always have. We were supposed to go home about… five times now."
"Maybe one day."
The two sat quietly for a little bit, both stewing in their thoughts. Hawke was conflicted; he had nothing really to go back to and considering his past, not everybody was exactly sad he was out fighting in some God-Emperor forsaken system. But he felt homesick for Anglerre, more specifically his home of Avalon. The rolling green hills, well-kept roads, and simple lives that its citizenry lived in comparison to the modern and developed cities he had seen and fought through. Then his eyes lit up as another, more base thought went through his mind.
"Boss is probably not going to notice if I vanish for a little bit before we head out. What do you think of that?"
"The mind boggles."
"Well, I can th-"
He stopped, a confused look in his eyes. He was looking at her uniform tunic, trying to figure something out. Helene looked down and saw that there were two darkening wet spots across her chest.
"Dammit, not again!"
"Again?"
"It's my-they've been leaking and-I don't want to talk about it. I'm running out of uniforms at this rate. Fucking bullshit. Having tits isn't all that it's cracked up to be."
"So you need to change?"
"Yeah, I got to be on the bridge in an hour."
"Need any help getting dressed?" he said with unhidden desire.
"No… but you can help me. And another leak I have-"
Hawke whistled as he stood up.
"Let's get the fuck out of here."
"We've got plenty of that to do, don't we?"
XXXXXX
"-and then I got knighted at the victory celebration by Edmund himself. When he got promoted from Corps Commander to lead Crusade intelligence, he took me along."
"An exciting career if I may say so. And a lucky one."
"I used to consider myself the luckiest man on Haikk Four, but I think that extends to the entire system as well."
"Well, may lady luck watch over you as long as we serve together."
"Cheers to that."
The two lifted their goblets, now filled with some of the wine Roger had kept in reserve in toast. He had spent the last few hours or so recounting his exploits and deeds on that miserable planet, leaving out the parts with the Eldar and his operation in the ruins. He even hid the Wraithbone sword he received there, leaving nothing to chance. And knowing that Erwan had a faint but ignorant idea of the reality of Xenos on Anglerre, it would either give him a life-changing realization that would give him a crisis of faith or drive him into a puritanical frenzy. Each option was not exactly desirable, but the Avalonian quickly realized that the drinks were as much about preparing himself for whatever came next as actual reverie. Buzzed and ready, he decided to begin the conversation he had dreaded since he was informed of his brother knights' arrival.
"Now, I think you may have realized that some of the things I did seem a bit impossible."
"Improbable, but anything can happen Sir Roger."
"There's a reason that some of our operations ended so well, and it's one that we aren't willing to freely admit or talk about."
Erwan sat up, suddenly intrigued.
"Oh?"
"There's… more to the Leopards than you've been let on. And I'm sorry that it's been that way, for security and other reasons. And you joining us means you must be let in on this secret."
"I think there is nothing that can surprise me by now."
I very much doubt that.
The voice was neither Erwan's nor his. Feminine, audible, but not spoken. Roger knew it instantly.
Get out of my head Anya. Where are you?
I have been watching in the corner. Sitting on top of one of your bookshelves in fact. I like this one. Very well spoken.
For how long?
"Are you all right Sir Roger?"
"N-nothing. Just thinking about how to break the news to you. An introduction is in order."
The Vretan craned his neck, obviously confused.
Should I go and inform the others you two are to arrive soon?
Would you be so kind to? And get the hell out of my head.
Very well.
"So, what is your secret? Do you feed your men stimulants? Pay off mercenaries?"
"Frankly Sir Erwan, you would not believe me unless I showed you."
The black armored knight let out a restrained laugh.
"You cannot keep someone like me in suspense, Sir Roger. I have a very weak constitution for such things."
"Very well. Finish your drink and follow me. Leave the shield, I don't think you'll need it."
"And leave my sword as well?"
"A knight without his sword is not much of one at all, is he? Keep it on your belt."
"Should I be prepared for something ill or dangerous to happen to us?"
He will be safe in our care.
Piss off and get out of my head damn you!
"It's the respectability I'm more worried about."
Taking the last of the wine in his goblet, Erwan nodded.
"I forgot my helmet as well."
"I noticed. What do you prefer?"
"Bascinet with hounskull. I think having something jut out from your face gives you more breathing room and a bit more protection. They will hit the beak first and spite the important bits."
"Rounded visor for myself. I hate the look of the hounskull myself, but more power to you."
"At least it protects your entire face, unlike that nose guard and mail that the Prince prefers."
Roger knew the armor setup well; Edmund having worn it all day at Acra. It was as much a symbol of his defiance against the odds and fate as much as the royals' hatred of not being able to see well in combat. They both stood as he moved to the bookshelf, the Vretan following close behind.
"What you're about to see is beyond secret. Tell no one unless they are the Prince and Lord D'Uxford."
"Intriguing man, is he not?"
"Who, the Prince or the Lord of Clavham?"
"The latter. Always seems to be scheming or planning. No rest for him."
"Wait until you meet his mother."
"His mother is here? On the Langriano?"
"Sure is. You won't believe who she is when you meet her either."
He pulled one of the books, fittingly a facsimile of Le Morte D'Arthur, one of the oldest and most cherished pieces of human literature by the Anglois. The shelf swung slowly towards them, revealing a long hallway. He briefly wondered how Anya had gotten past them without notice, but being Eldari and a Ranger probably meant he would never figure it out anyway.
"Interesting."
"You'll see why in a little bit."
They stalked down the barely lit passage, Erwan trying not to stumble and fall.
"This is damm estreget."
"Pardon?"
"Narrow. Damnably narrow."
Thankfully, they reached the end before he could embarrass himself in front of the new commander.
"You're fine."
Roger scanned the small Eldari camp, realizing it was empty and quiet. If Anya had not gone ahead to inform the others, he would have prepared to fight. Turning to face Erwan, he realized the knight had already found something of great interest.
"What is that?" he asked in a hushed tone.
It was impossible to ignore it in all fairness: it was giant, bone-white, and stuck out like a claw from the metal deck of the starfort.
"It's how we move in silence. Fascinating, isn't it?"
Erwan moved closer, removing a glove before placing his hand on it.
"Wraithbone. Hardest material you'll ever feel, but lighter than a feather. Requires only those who specialize in it to forge or create anything using that. It's made from powers and materials beyond most species understanding."
"I… I have seen this before. In the forests. Same color and same feeling. H-how is it here?"
Roger scratched his chin before clearing his throat.
"We need to talk about the Speridou-"
"An interesting name," a voice cut in, Erwan freezing in surprise. "Rolls off the tongue. Better than Xeno, at least."
Kallen Socher was only wearing his armor, not bothering with the dreadlocked helmet that completed an already intimidating figure.
"You are the new human to join us?"
"Y-you-"
"Anya has informed us of your arrival. I assure you; we have no ill or grudge against yourself, and no harm shall come your way. Humans of much rougher and less welcoming demeanor have been welcomed to serve alongside us."
"And if you are as proficient and honorable as Sir Roger, you will find us willing and able to fight at your side."
Moire stepped forward after speaking, a few of her fellow Avengers and Striking Scorpions moving from the shadows. Anya, Steryn, and Alax kept a comfortable distance, but moved into sight as well.
"S-Speridou! We are fighting alongside Speridou!"
Erwan was shaking, either from fright or disbelief, but stood his ground.
"We prefer other names."
The Vretan was utterly flabbergasted. He had only seen one or two from a distance, hidden amongst the trees and glades deep in the forests around Kas Erglav, ancient home of the Kerhoueds. But here, in the chilled and dingy bowels of a Starfort, lightyears from their home, he stood amongst a handful of them. The nearest feeling one could have as a human was finally meeting an Astartes, a rare and almost impossible occurrence for trillions of citizens in their great and vast-stretching Imperium.
"The Asuryani, children of fallen Gods, the survivors of a great and defunct empire. The Aeldari, or the Eldar in your tongue. To some, abhumans. To others, Xenos. I do not know where this term you call us originates from, but know this: we are not phantoms, but the finest warriors the galaxy can provide. We serve your commander for reasons beyond his or your understanding, and if he believes you are worthy of joining us and knowing of our existence, we shall be at your side. Fear not, for you fight with the children of Craftworld Ducaish, and there is no equal to us."
Erwan stared blankly at the Striking Scorpion, Roger crossing his arms before shaking his head.
"I hope you didn't spend too much time thinking that one up."
"Only a few of your minutes. I am quite a linguist. A cunning one, if you will."
"God-Emperor help me," he said before turning to the silent Vretan. "Well, now you know the secret. You won't go telling everyone you know about this, right? It's not exactly a good look for me, Prince Edmund, the Crusade, and Throne knows how many others if the fact we were working with Eldar got out. But I can trust you to be quiet, correct?"
Sir Erwan Kerhoued, peerless knight and pride of Anglerre, looked back at Roger, then at the gathered Eldar, and promptly let out a squeak before fainting, the sound of his armor hitting the deck echoing with a deep thud throughout the Eldar camp. Roger and his Leopards quickly gathered around the fallen warrior, staring down at the unconscious man.
"Goddammit," he muttered.
"Well, he did not scream upon seeing us, so he is doing better than Helene," Kallen said flatly.
"True. She's pregnant by the way, forgot to tell you all."
The gathered warriors all looked at him, some in a surprising amount of emotion.
"Who is the father?" Daidre asked.
"Hawke."
A few nods of approval came after that, the general consensus being that as unique and temperamental the two were, it was least a decent pairing.
"This knight is not dead, correct?" Anxo queried.
"No, he should be fine. Just a bit shocked.
"I did not mean to frighten him."
"You're good Kallen. I don't think a proper introduction is really possible for any of you."
"We try though," Alax said.
"I'll go back to my room and get some water. We'll try to explain it more when he comes to."
Moving back up the stairs, Roger thought in the grand scheme of things, it was not the worst introduction to the Leopards.
At least he was not stupid enough to think they were abhumans.