[indent][indent][color=slategray][i]"So are you single, or...?"[/i]

Colette managed to keep down whatever liquid she had just ingested with minor effort. 

“You don’t just...” She started even as words were swallowed by a sigh. “I [i]was[/i] up until recently engaged to be married.”

“[i]Was?[/i] What happened” Setzer prodded between a mouthful of bread that he had stuffed in his mouth crumbs exploding outwards from the open orifice. Lee had opened up an avenue of attack, so it was only fair that they followed it through till the end. Get all the information they could and that. That and whether he like to admit or not he was a sucker for gossip.

“He died during the initial push into your country. Sniper.” She explained with a shrug as she pointed towards her head and pantomimed getting her brains blown out. 

“Oh...” Setzer muttered. There wasn’t anything in their training that dealt with something like this.  “Sorry, I guess? I mean he probably would've killed us so I don’t feel that bad”

“It’s fine really. It was a political thing, he wasn’t even my..”

Colette began stumbling over her words as she tried to backpedal the conversation. Despite her best or well intended efforts, an awkward silence easily hung itself over the group. The only sounds being the occasional rustling of plastic packaging and liquid being poured from cups. Colette was rather confused why they only seemed to be carrying copious amounts of alcohol on them, but admittedly it was helping with the nerves. Daryll rejoined the group having aquired places to sleep for the night. The old woman he had bartered with poked her head out of the office telling them that she was heading to bed and that they better damn well clean up after themselves or she would charge them extra.

As Zimmy left, Colette nodded her appreciation even as Setzer called out after her.

“I mean if you want to just hoard Lee for yourself, you just need to tell us.”

Colette attention turned from her intense examination of the asphalt beneath her feet as Trent thanked her. “Don’t mention it. It was Gideon that kept me from ramming us headlong into a tree.”

The air was relaxed despite the circumstance that they had just survived. A return if  desperately forceful to the levity of what seemed like a lifetime ago. A way for frantic hearts and racing minds to slowly come to terms with events and what lay ahead of them. It was easy enough for Colette to imagine that these people could actually be her friends. But she knew better than that, they no doubt like those back home thought of her ideas of peace as nothing  more than a child’s dream. 
As Galahad addressed her with a level of forced civility that the Princess had become accustomed to over the years she could only nod her head. The mere mention of sleep tugging at her tired frame. She was exhausted both physically and mentally from the ordeal that had occurred. Those acutely attuned to the Mist would have noticed something odd, once more about the girl. Even now as she just spoke and talked she was like a low flickering flame Mist in small quantities being constantly formed around her - like a strange homeostasis. Part of her wanted to scream, part of her wanted to cry over Ardin and the rest that she lost, bust mostly she just wanted to forget this day had ever happened. 

“Sleep actually sounds like a great idea.” She admitted as she stood up and gave a curt bow as she excused herself definitely misplaced in the circumstance, but forgiven nonetheless.


Setzer finished consuming what was maybe about half of their squandered food supplies.  Wincing in pain he stretched out his left arm and rolled it backwards feeling the shoulder crack and pop. He felt like shit, he looked like shit and was doing the best he could to control the urge of running back into that forest and kicking the living shit out of every one of those damned robots. He looked at those who remained running a hand through his hair, dried flakes of blood that had been pancaked in falling to the ground.

“Well this is a shitshow,” He sighed “guess we should all hit the sack as well.”

He stood up.

"Warning though Galahad if you wake me up at five in the morning because you are doing your pretty boy hair, I will throttle you.” Setzer explained with a smirk, the jab falling somewhere between completely serious and pulling a leg.

[hr]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/Gp8b654.png[/img][/center] 
[sub][i][b]Thirty Kilometers from the current Front, Vangar Occupied Rassvet (VOR), Vangar Central Command (formerly Fort Kierksten) [/b][/i][/sub]

High General Zalser Auckwaeld was awake as he had been for the better part of two days. He stood hands clenching the sides of the large constantly updating tactical map.  At the moment though the map was silent with the early hours of the morning came with it an odd peace. A peace that had lasted for the better part of a day as the ceasefire held for the Princess Colette’s meeting with the enemy. Yet still the general examined his options, a level of unease unable to be shaken.

He ran a hand through his black hair which had more splashes of grey than he would of liked. The weight of command was showing even upon his young shoulders of thirty three, expectations mounting upon him. He was the prodigy, the perfect tactician meant to easily secure a victory for his great Empire, and forever be known as a hero to the people. Though in honestly all he wanted to do was head home, maybe eat a steak and go fishing. But one did their duty no matter what their stomach told them otherwise.

He heard the sounds of footsteps in the hallway and looked up as one Tellah Resbaan entered the room. She was dressed simply as to not stand out from the other members of the camp, yet the green of the irises flickered with a uncertainty against the natural dark pallor of skin. Resbaan was an officer in the Intelligence division, graduating the same year from the academy as Zalser they had managed to establish a rapport with the lieutenant serving as his ears and ears within the shifting world of the vast and often unchecked Vangar intelligence community. She walked in with little regard to common formality crossing the distance between them quick positioning herself at the other end of the tactical map.

Knowing that she would tell the reason for her interruption when she was good and ready Zalser turned around and moved toward the back corner where a small trunk sat. He pressed a finger against the biometric lock lifting the lid and reaching in producing a bottle of brandy. Two small glasses materialized from the clutter of his workspace and were quietly filled. All the while he kept watching Resbaan from his periphery. She was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, whatever had just come down the wire had to be important and not good in equal measure. He walked over glasses in hand and set one down in front of her.

She looked at him puzzled.

“You look like you need it.” Zalser insisted and she nodded her thanks and with a measured practice she downed the entirety of its contents. “So?”

“Honestly? Don’t where to start.” She answered breathing out deeply. “Little birds from back home just sent us some bad news.”

“The nobility clamouring for another withdrawal?” The general replied dryly as with much more moderation took smaller intakes of his own drink. Distilled in the highlands it was something of an acquired taste bitter as all hell and went down just as easily. Yet it was what he had bottles upon bottles of the stuff after the tabloids had caught him drinking it in a cafe while he was on leave.

“Aren’t they always?” Tellah replied with a small smile which quickly faded away. “We lost contact with the Palatine.”

“What?” Zalser himself wasn’t monitoring the young princesses’ ship. His own team had stopped communicating with the ship soon after it crossed into Rassvet airspace as to not give the heathens a chance to tap into their communication systems of the offensive during a so called time of peace. That task was dedicated to the 1st and 2nd Imperial Dragoons as was their duty whose base of operation was back at the Capital. 

“A distress signal was sounded about there,” She gestured to a point on the map, “but it quickly dissipated and the ship has now all but vanished.” 

“Rassvet wouldn't be so asinine to strike a diplomatic envoy.” Zalser tried to argue but Tellah just gave him a knowing shrug.

“We can only assume the worst.” Tellah continued. “The best case scenario is that they were attacked by a splinter group opposed to any idea of a settlement, but given how quickly the Palatine was silenced that seems unlikely.”

“Has his Imperial Majesty heard yet?” 

“He has,” Tellah replied whistling  a shrill unsteady note, “and he is understandably not pleased.”

“This can only go over well.” Zalser replied as he downed the remaining portion of his drink with much more vigor than before.

“He’s been in council with the advisory committee for the last several hours.” Tellah explained turning to look Zalser straight in the eye. “The common consensus is within the hour, everybody here is going to get the order to drop the hammer.”

The general did not speak he simply ran his hand through his hair once more. ‘Dropping the hammer’ was a seemingly innocuous phrase that was spoken of much in the Vangar military but not often used in practice. As most of its military campaigns were of seizing territory for resettlement and bringing into the folds of the Empire, they were delicate and precise affairs: collateral damage often being kept to a minimum, towns and other non-essential infrastructure of the enemy war effort was to be preserved, and civilian populations treated with a measure of restraint. It was a simple matter that Vangar had to effectively rule the land after it was conquered and if it was entirely decimated and filled with an angry populace that wasn’t an easy thing to accomplish.

In contrast ‘dropping the hammer’ referred to the opposite, a full offensive - total war as it were. Cities were to be leveled to the ground, no soldiers were to be allowed to surrender and any citizen that resisted would be treated as a combatant. All restraint shown by the mightiest empire of Yerin fell away and the weight of its military slammed into the opposition. The last time such a campaign was waged was nearly fifty years ago with the assault of Xiaeir, a vast kingdom of interconnected city states within the great Xia Desert. These days the Xia Desert goes by another name - the Sea of Glass for obvious reason. 

 Zalser let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Well it would seem we are to have a real war after all.”

“Yep.”

“Thank you Tellah, you’re dismissed.”

The woman nodded and turned walking towards the exit, she turned around one last time. “You know you still owe me that dinner right?”

Despite the current circumstances Zalser chuckled. “I hear the restaurants of Orestia are some of the best in the world. Shame.”

And with that Zalser turned back to his map. There were things to be done.

[hr]

[center][img]https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/004/810/059/large/levy-wang-3.jpg?1486440486[/img][/center]
[sub][i][b]Council Chamber, Unknown Vessel[/b][/i][/sub]

The sounds of more than a dozen voices arguing filled the council chamber. A gargantuan semi-cylindrical drum in the center annex of the ship. It rose high into a vaulted ceiling where faces were concealed in the darkness. The only light coming from the soft orange glow from the eyes of the several automatons stationed throughout the room.. The thrum of activity rising in pitch and intensity as debate soared after the latest encounter.

There was the groan of metal of the far side of the chamber and the voices grew silent. The towering double doors which lead into the chamber intricately laced with glowing glyphs carved in the pattern of pulsing blue circuitry were pushed open by the two towering automatons that stood guard on the other side. A sliver of light from the harshly lit hallway cut through the darkness like a dagger as the door was opened just enough to allow a figure to pass between the tremendous frame. 

Silhouetted in light and shadow the figure, a man, walked into the the chamber his boots echoing through the large space that had fallen silent. The armor he wore bristled with a combination of Mist and advanced technology black as the night, shimmering and morphing almost like it was alive. Long hair, white as fresh snow, slicked back away from the face. The face itself was harshly angular with high prominent cheekbones that gave an almost otherworldly appearance. A heavy bandage was currently placed over his right eye where the old man on the Palatine had managed to strike him. The other eye seemed to glow in the darkness, a cat-like yellow. He stepped into the middle of the chamber onto a large circular platform where beyond its edges everything seemed to just drop into a dark abyss, upon reaching the center of the platform he knelt down.

[color=#FD1C03]“You let the Catalyst escape Primarch Raeth.”[/color] A voice echoed out from the darkness that stretched above the Primarch.

“There was no other choice.” 

[color=#FD1C03]“We only needed seconds more.”[/color]

“Seconds more and we would've past the boundary of the forest and then the illusory wards placed before hand would have been gone. Every man, woman, and child within sight would of seen the explosions upon the horizon.” The Primarch explained as he tilted his head peering into the darkness. “To bring attention to us would only further [i]complicate[/i] matters.”

[color=#FD1C03]“You speak the truth Primach,”[/color] Another voice began different from the first - higher, [color=#FD1C03]“and yet every moment we waste we draw ever closer to that which cannot become.”[/color]

“Next time the Catalyst will be ours.” Raeth spoke back assuredly. “We have eyes upon them as we speak and all communications have been jammed, nobody outside speaks to them without us knowing it and allowing it. It’s only a matter of finding the right time to strike.”

[color=#FD1C03]“Yes, but what of the interlopers?”[/color] The first voice asked as a projection was displayed into the room of a image of the group that had helped the Catalyst escaped the crash site. Faces turned upwards towards the large vessel above them.

“An unforeseen inconvenience, but they are mere children they are of no worry to us.” 

[color=#FD1C03]“Meer children which fought their way through our forces.”[/color] The higher voice answered in a sing-song manner.

“Children that nearly died to our weakest automations. As I said, they are nothing more than an inconvenience. Bugs which will easily be crushed.”

[color=#FD1C03]“As you say Primarch. I hope you are right for all our sakes.”[/color] The first voice responded doubt still marking the edges of its tone. 

“As am I.”

[color=#FD1C03]“You are dismissed.”[/color]


And with that the Primarch rose and left the chamber, the doors closing behind him.[/color][/indent][/indent]

[center][H3] [i]A C T  O N E  E N D[/i] [/H3][/center]