As the ship passed into Mitteland, a flurry of wireless communications came from below, eventually culminating in permission being given for the ship to dock at Elvesland where there was a Zeppelin mast and a ground crew to make the process of landing considerably safer than it was without one.

This meant adjusting their course to the South-West, but it was the sensible thing to do. The ship had taken fire and really needed to be inventoried for damage before they went on any further. This would also be a good chance for those not wanting to fly back into war at Grendell, to disembark.

With the sun setting on the horizon over the streets of Elvesland, the bronze domes of her temples and cathedrals catching the last light, Arkadios called over the speaking tube to bring everyone together. He waited for everyone to arrive before giving his announcement, "So, the Mittelvolk have invited those of us who wish to come, to a dinner hosted by one of their Junior Princes, tomorrow night, to celebrate our heroic efforts against the Calarian invasion." He told the group, "You don't have to come, but if you do be on your best behaviour. I've informed them that we will need the proper attire to meet the dress code - they are sending out a tailor."

"Before that though, tomorrow morning, their military commanders want to meet with us. So we'll need to be ready for that. If anyone feels compelled to join that meeting and has a good reason to be there, let me know."

"Can I come?" Zoe asked.

"Young Lady, I'm not sure what you think you'd add to that discussion," Arkadios raised an eyebrow, "Though obviously we are very grateful that you shared the location of the Treasury."

Zoe gave a shrug, leaning back against the Zeppelin window.

---

Carter stood near the helm beside Itzi, arms loosely crossed as Arkadios’s spoke to the room. He’d stayed quiet through most of the announcement, listening on and weighing the news intentively. There had been no incidents within the crew thus far and he hoped to keep it that way but his lingering suspicions kept at him.

Itzi, by contrast, was all spark again. Eyes bright and chin tilted toward the horizon. She murmured something about the dinner, how “it might be nice to see what nobles eat when they’re not feeding soldiers scraps.”

She then pondered with a grin that she might even drag Nuwa along, just to see him try and juggle in front of royalty.

Meanwhile Carter gave a small huff of amusement at the interaction between Zoe and the officer. His mind kept at the the mention of military commander and the war still raging somewhere beyond the clouds, then on the gold below deck that could decide the fate of everyone aboard.

Once Zoe gave a shrug Carter straightened slightly. “I’ll attend the morning meeting,” he said simply, “Reckon I’d like to know how things stand with Inbur and make sure our agreement still stands, while I’m at it.”

He cast a brief look toward Arkadios, “No offense meant, Captain. Just figure it’s best to be in the room when decisions start being made.”

He left it at that.

Le Mariner woke slowly the following morning, it was not a hang over but they had a rough week, a rough month to months. The war had been brewing, fighting and took a lot out of people and he hardly was the youngest of men.

He poured some leftover brandy into his coffee as he ate breakfast watching them fly over the terrain, the lands were flat and the expense of vast open lands was rising and falling. Light glittered from large rivers and lakes they could see from below and these areas were not ravaged and burning from war and shell fire. He felt … better to know some place was not being burned by the fires of the red military, his own home land would look like this with large warships that sat at anchor and ready to respond to threats. The large battleships had evolved rapidly in technology and size. Fired by boilers, clad in thick armour and guns that made the ones he commanded to be obsolete now.

Turrets had replaced broadsides, fuel had replaced winds and sails, hulls had grown from wood, iron, steel and now new generations of armour plate that was stronger and more resistant per ton than anything made before.

The captain's broadcast came across the ships mc1, he listened, a prince's event would be ideal for him to gain local information and gauge the mood of things going on. Who's let loose so many things if you really listened and paid attention. Even a small aspect of information would be potentially the thing that kept them alive, and maybe leverage an advantage. The second, a military gathering. Naturally, he was one of the officers aboard and had managed to carve out a niche in their unconventional chain of command. They had a structure and that was working for now.

He decided and straightened his battered somewhat uniform uniform, it definitely would need a little maintenance and work when they got into port, perhaps he could rush to make some extra items for day to day and duty use. Dark coats, where dark coats and so.

Meeting first, sorting out the tailors appointment, finding a local information maker to acquire new uniform items and some potentially cold weather gear etc, he doubted it would be nice up on this airship if the weather turned bad or they entered into a harsher climate. The ship should have a treasury he as a member of its crew should be able to draw from. This was essential and he probably would suggest the entire crew if they stayed outfit themselves for future endeavors while they had opportunity and a peaceful port. They had weapons but gear, rations, materials, medical? Did they need new kit, wireless, spares, engineering, repair materals… they needed a ships quarter master to be elected. Another item for the ship's meeting. Air ship….

Bad luck. He might end up with the job, though at least that would keep him busy… if not hunched over a desk with one good eye and a pen trying to sort out the details of running a ship. A reminder of his past times and experience as a junior officer and officer candidate.

…

He downed his cup, that was a good start for the day. Even if day drinking was… who could blame them for keeping and picking up some bad habits. He was hardly as bad as his sister, she was a society wife but she drank wine at breakfast daily.

He walked through the ship after washing off his plate and cup headed up to the bridge to find out if anything happened overnight and just see the maps.”Good morning, Gentlemen, Captain, graceful Ladies especiallywith last night's dancing. How be the . Sky sailing. Not Hung over Mr Carter.” He said as he checked the map, the distance and did a quick calculation of time, distance and speed drawing a metal bar over the map with a wide circle. It matched what he saw within reason and he looked scanned the future map and destinations beyond on lines stretching out to other important cities and nations.

“Intresting… this is like…. A great sea with no limits…” He said looking at the wider map, there were no limits by channels, seas or land masses… it was total freedom of navigation bar enemy territory and the high mountains.

“This airship thing, is… ? I see why you do it.” He said checking the charts and making notes in a book that listed the air ships navigation. A rather less filled out book but he changed that.

Being on watch on the gondola for the most part had allowed Aden two things for the most part. The first had been an indulgence; brought on by boredom, curiosity and a surplus of ammo. Plinking away at trees and boulder's that hung below, scratching flight times, aim points and impact points in his sketchbook. The last eight pages being filled with his new dope work. Dissecting the finer points of this aerial gunnery; half from personal curiosity and the other half from professional stubbornness.

The aching of his arm an unwelcome companion in the cold breeze of the gondola. Thoughts of how it should be worse at the back of his mind. He would have to bring it up somehow. The thoughts on how eluded him. He gave a sigh, his breath misting even as the airstream took it.

The second perk of gondola watch spread out before him. Watching the landscape beneath shift from rustic views to the grand city that now sprawled under his boots. He had slung his rifle at the first sighting of civilization; opting instead to alternate taking in the view with binoculars and trying to smoke a cigarette. The latter more difficult to keep lit in his current conditions.

So it was to some relief that he was relieved and entered the bridge. Smoke wafting from mouth as he took a drag.

"Will I be needed at any of these?" Aden asked of Arkadios, a cloud of smoke hanging around the knit cap pulled over the private's ears. " Or do you think I will be receiving new orders here?"

Aden asked that last part with a resigned air. The airship had been a nice diversion if not for his wound but he had survived the fall of Inbur. Now, it was time for reality to set in again. In that a private with no unit could not galivant away on his own whims.

Lest he be considered for desertion.

Aden

...

"Will I be needed at any of these?" Aden asked of Arkadios, a cloud of smoke hanging around the knit cap pulled over the private's ears. " Or do you think I will be receiving new orders here?"
...

"I should think not," Arkadios replied with a slightly raised eyebrow, "We are in a friendly country, but it is not our own. Once we have repaired the airship we will make for Grendell. It is there, I imagine we'll be given our orders."

"You can accompany me for the morning," Zoe offered, "I am assuming there will be a dress maker as well?"

A nod from Arkadios.

"Then I'll need an opinion on what I try on!" she declared.

---

They docked that evening. It was, with the help of a ground crew, a much simpler process than what they had gone through at Custospada. An officer came aboard, exchanged a few pleasantries in heavily accented Inburian, before allowing the people on the airship to turn in for the night.

The next morning, those people going to the meeting were escorted off the ship by another Mittelvolk Officer in a slightly blue tinged 'pike grey' uniform. They descended the mast in a lift, before being led across a broad square to a large civic building with an off white paster facade, grey tile roof and a sign announcing it was the 'Zollhaus'. From here they were ushered into a meeting room with a number of Mittelvolk officers and coffee.

After an exchange of salutes and brief pleasantries, they took their seats. Arkadios speaking for the travelers and a Colonel Swaigers, an older man with a broad, waxed, grey moustache speaking for the Mitteland Government, assisted by a Lieutenant Cromer, who was much younger and clean shaven.

"Escape on a dirigible," Swaigers remarked with a chuckle and a shake of the head, "I am impressed you managed to find enough people to crew the thing and get it off the ground, let alone here and with a cargo of Imperial gold."

"Thank you Sir," Arkadios replied, "We have good people aboard... and have also had luck on our side. If I may ask, what news from the Front."

Swaigers grimaced, "I will start with the bad news Captain. Our forces attempted to advance along the railroad through the Morktree but the Calarians were already waiting. We believe we suffered around 15,000 dead and wounded. I could not say what the Calarian casualties were, but we did not force them back a foot and I do not believe forcing the Morktree is possible."

He paused momentarily, before giving a sigh and a shrug, "The situation in the South is worse. There was a small battle at sea between the Calarians and the Quinians. The Quinians lost a battleship and a couple of destroyers and retreated when they realised they were getting the worst of it. This has allowed the Calarians to land forces unopposed at Pencraig and cutting the rail lines supplying the main Quinian army. They have Quinians to the North and South of them, the Eryddragh to the West and the Sea to the East full of Calarian warships."

Arkadios grimaced, "Is there any good news."

"There is... but first you should also know that the Imperial Family have been taken prisoner in Inbur. Apparently the Emperor imagined his presence would encourage the troops to stand... which they did not. Princess Philazoea, the youngest one, is unaccounted for, though I would say at this stage she is probably dead somewhere."

"God save Inbur," for a moment the horror showed on Arkadios' face, "Is there any good news?"

"The one ray of hope is that the Imperial Army has held the line at both the Grendell and Neapol. As of this morning, at dawn, Mashall Leontiou has launched a counterattack from the Grendell against the Calarians. From the telegram reports we are receiving, the Calarians were caught off guard. Favis and Bayn Alain are mobilising and have pledged to support the Synaxis." that had been the term for Inbur and her client Kingdoms (Mitteland, Quinia and Favis), though it hadn't been a formal military alliance, until now, "I suspect they are dragging their heels to make sure they don't accidentally enter a war that is all but decided. Leontiou's offensive, provided it manages to stabilise the Front, will swing the balance of this war."

---

Carter sat stiffly in his chair, his hands clasped loosely before him, the muscle arpund his cheekbones tightened with every new revelation Swaiger delivered.

Fifteen thousand dead. The Quinians cut off. The Imperial Family taken. Only a single princess unaccounted for, likely dead.

He had told himself a hundred times over that this wasn’t his war, that whatever happened east of the Evig wasn’t his to shoulder. But watching Arkadios, the usually unflappable and composed officer, visibly shaken by the news…

It hit him harder than he expected. The old soldier looked like a man who had been told his family had died, for all intends and purposes he had been told just that. Carter felt a heaviness settle in him. Maybe it wad sympathy, maybe the echo of what he had buried back home when the Confederacy’s guns had fallen silent over scorched farmland.

Goddamn mess, he thought. All of it.

He cleared his throat lightly, easing forward in his seat.

“Colonel,” he said, raising hos gloved hand slightly, “any word on the Commonwealth’s stance in all this? Last I heard, they were keeping out of Old Continent affairs, is that still the memorandum of the day?”

The briefing was pretty stark, the armies against them had made great gains, counter attacks failed and there was about 1 glimmer of hope. He had mixed feelings, a desire to defend his country, no one had expected the reds to roll up this fast and assumed they would have weeks to months to be able to react. Instead the borders had fallen and armies surged forward far beyond any time tables and planned assessments. Had they lied about their military state or did the enemy just be that much better and luckier?

The kingdoms were mobilising… that meant members of his family would be enlisting in the Navy or called to duty. They were hardly small folk but they had served as officers and men in the fleets for centuries from wooden ships to iron and steel monsters fed by coal.

The Favain diplomat knew the assessments but how could he politely rebuke for his country, but to not cause unnecessary hurt. A lot of loss from small folk to royals. “It is indeed grave news gentlemen and you have my sympathies. The kingdoms did not expect things to degrade at the pace they have. Our information was it is now optimistic to be polite.” He kept things short for obvious reasons.

“I want to give you some good news, but to fully mobilise, organise, integrate the Favian reserve fleets, auxiliary and merchant formations will take time. As well as to train and fill out the reserve Marine Battalions.

The main home forces will be ready faster however and the latest of the Mars Class battleships are coming into service. They are equal or more to the emeny heavies.” He said professionally, they would be effective if used right, Favis was strongest as a Naval power, thats whete it investment lay and fully mobilised would be effective but integrating their various arms into a wartime operations force would not be instant.

Aden wasn't sure how he felt about his spot on the gondola. It had seen to become his post on the zeppelin. Over the short time on the airship he had moved small comforts into the machine gun position. A few tins of his sniper ammo for his ad-hoc ballistic practice; extra pencils so he didn't need to sharpen any for his sketches and tables. A pair of matchbooks to spare his precious lighter fluid.

Hell, even his blood still stained the floor of this position.

So it was here that the private stood as the group left for their briefing. A cigar procured from a sympathetic ground crewmen clenched in his fist. Ashes dancing in the wind over the mooring mast as Aden peered down at the bustle of the foreign base and city.

It definitely wasn't any of his trench smokes; but it was far enough from the cigars of the party that he didn't feel guilty puffing away.

'Quite a sight.'

Aden's gaze once again danced over the city and debated whether he should attempt another sketch of the skyline, or finish one of his earlier ones. The sketch of the fortress they had looted was only half shaded in. Though the one of Zoe on the bridge was also incomplete. Or perhaps he could journal...

'Or you could actually desert. Who would chase you?'

Aden gave it a thought. He was terrified of being found a deserter. Truly, but why not actually become one? A foreign country also in chaos; he could slip away in the masses. Perhaps a looted bar of gold-

Aden let that thought die with a grumble and a flick of the dead cigar. He wasn't a thief or a coward.

He gave a sigh and straightened, moving back to the airship's interior and whoever had decided to stay behind.

Captain Le Mariner was used to planning and logistics, when you lost , you tended to end up planning, or on the side of a desk rather than a gun or a warship's decks. He had spent many hours stuck in his long tedium but these lessons were starting to eventually come together into a thought.

A rather strange thought as others were worried about exact political and grand strategy but this was rather the side topic but a very important one also.

“Agh, I have a question..” he said, as he had a little pause for drama and room to come to focus.

“In a more sustained term, we have all these gentlemen here from our generous hosts, our crew. Depending what we do, we need to manage the … vegetables of the meal. We need fuel not urgently but we ran heavy and fast, many of us left uniforms and basic gear behind, we will need to undertake minor repair, food reserves, coffee, fresh food and water, if we intend to carry on our travels, we need our host's assistance.”

Yes they had reserves for a while but this trip sounded longer than planned and they did not have infinite reserves. “Also, we need to identify potential safe harbours in case we take battle or storm damage, should we locate a destination to seek out.”

“Our strategy and plans may vary but we cannot live off our luck it was stocked forever. Depending on mass, krupus pattern light superstructure plate, for gondola positions, shields for guns, and to plate our engine units weakest angle vs ground fire. Would not hurt. We nearly lost a man, and that may have saved him. Maybe a light pedestal 2 pounder mount for prow.”

He said, armour might help keep and protect the crew, it was an airship but they did not have to be a flying weak point. He was used to a surface navy, not an air navy but they could maybe run to a little armour and artillery.

But fresh food, water supply, fuel would be always in demand even if they were parked. They needed provisions for the ship and crew.

@PrinceAlexus@InfamousGuy101

Colonel Swaigers gave Carter a curious glance, then shook his head, "The Synaxis has never had any understanding with the Commonwealth, neither do the Calarians. I would anticipate that the Commonwealth will remain neutral in the conflict."

"As to your question, Captain," he turned his attention to Le Mariner, "We are awaiting instructions from your headquarters at the Grendell as to what they would like to do with the gold and the ship. My anticipation -" he gave a small incline of his head as if to say he was just guessing, " - and this is merely the musings of a Colonel - is that we might be asked to offload the vessel here and keep the gold in Mitteland where it might be used to continue the war effort in the event that the Grendell falls. It is, at the very least, far away from the Calarians."

"As for the vessel, I imagine she will resume the military service for which she was being outfitted when the city was overrun," Cromer added, "So yes, supplies, armour plating and other such matters will be looked into. Once we receive instruction from Grendell we will do what is necessary. There is also the matter of who will be on the ship at that time. Grendell may send down an experienced air crew. There may not be one available and the ship might be loaned to the Luftstreitkräfte. Until we know what is happening, please accept the hospitality of the city."

---

Aden

...

Aden let that thought die with a grumble and a flick of the dead cigar. He wasn't a thief or a coward.

He gave a sigh and straightened, moving back to the airship's interior and whoever had decided to stay behind.

There was a slight scramble from the boarding ramp as Zoe reappeared. She had been off the ship, presumably going for a walk around the city, though she seemed in quite a rush to be back aboard, her cheeks flushed, one hand held to the side of her face as if trying to hide herself from someone's gaze, though she dropped it the moment she was back aboard.

She took a deep breath, "Good morning Mister Robertson," she greeted Aden cheerfully, no apparent distress in her tone, though her cheeks were still rather flushed.

The clatter of metal preceded Zoe's arrival. Aden's brow quirked at both her hurried pace and the hand that had been poorly concealing her features.

She took a deep breath, "Good morning Mister Robertson," she greeted Aden cheerfully, no apparent distress in her tone, though her cheeks were still rather flushed.

"Good Morning Miss Spyrou." He paused to examine the dark haired woman; an eye peering over her shoulder. Looking for any pursuit but finding none obvious. Or at least any obvious reason for her attempt at subterfuge. "You do something you shouldn't?"

He asked dryly; still waiting for a horde of policeman to charge up the ramp.

...

"Good Morning Miss Spyrou." He paused to examine the dark haired woman; an eye peering over her shoulder. Looking for any pursuit but finding none obvious. Or at least any obvious reason for her attempt at subterfuge. "You do something you shouldn't?"

"Me?" Zoe motioned at herself, looking surprised, "What? Oh... no, I've done absolutely nothing, I just found that after a few moments on the ground that I really didn't feel like going for a stroll after all. I guess you don't either, given that you're here waiting for the tailor."

"Say... do you think there's any more of that whiskey the officers were drinking last night?" she asked, "I certainly wasn't offered any and I would quite like to see what it tastes like... what about you Mister Robertson? I'm assuming as a man of refined tastes you wouldn't mind trying it either."

"Don't worry, I'll say it was me if anyone catches us!" she declared.

There was a familiar spark of mischief in her dark eyes. Presumably this impulse came from the same place that led to her accidentally discharging a pistol, but there was something else in there as well - she looked a little shaken, like she'd seen a ghost, but REALLY didn't want anyone else to know she had.

The private let a few beats of silence descend as he scrutinized Zoe. Taking in her warring features; the care free mask she was trying to effect and the underlying panic that was boiling beneath the surface.

Another slight glance over her shoulder showed no signs of pursuit still. There was also a distinct lack of clamor, alarms or the report of weapons ringing in the air.

So he gave a simple shrug, slightly easier now in his wounded side, and offered an arm with a flourish.

“Allow me the honor of your escort down the hall, My Lady” He adopted a slightly posh accent to the line. Covering his suspicion with a joking tone.

As he ‘escorted’ her; he may have shot a glance over his shoulder just to confirm for a third time. Still no commotion in her wake. Yet she looked as panicked as the escape from Inbur. Something Aden found strange as the pair entered the semi-converted recreation room.

The private releasing his grip to rummage through a cabinet. Memories of his attempts with his siblings at poaching the family alcohol growing up in the back of his mind as he pulled a half filled decanter from its enclosure.

His weak hand liberating a pair of glasses and setting them on a table.

“Two fingers?” The question asked as he poured his own glass. A scant amount of brandy in the bottom of the glass.

@Dyelli Beybi

"Better make it four," she declared as she seated herself, politely inclining her head as Aden passed the glass across, "So this might seem like an odd question, but do you speak Mittelandisch?" she asked, before adding, "I do, quite fluently, along with a few other languages," she said, before switching to well-accented Mittelandisch, by way of demonstration, "Ich bin nicht nur ein hübsches Gesicht... though I don't speak a word of Ardellian."

"Anyway, I'm just asking as it might be helpful if there are a few people around who have the local language rather than needing to wait for an Inburian speaker to arrive."

She took a sip from the drink, her eyes went slightly wide. One hand came up to her mouth as she swallowed, followed a moment later by a cough, "Fiery... so that's what the men drink." As a high-society lady, she was probably more used to drinking wine and its fortified cousins.

She took another sip, grimacing slightly, before declaring, like some kind of politician outlining their manifesto, "I'm going to keep drinking this until I like it!"

"I know a few words" Aden said, a slight grimace on his face. It turned out liquor still didn't agree with him anymore then it had on the night of his enlistment. He resolved to find an ale but for now politely followed Zoe's lead with his significantly smaller dollop. "They are however not conducive to polite company. Never took to foreign languages; no matter how much my tutor's tried. "

He made for another sip but the burn still residing in his throat made him set the glass back on the table. Though Zoe's declaration caused him to raise an eyebrow.

"And why would a refined lady want to enjoy the likes of brandy?"

He busied himself with removing a fresh cigarette; sticking it between his lips and going to light it when manners caught up to him. The private looked over at his companion in askance. Lighter frozen in motion, open but not yet lit, his gaze looking sheepish.

"Would the lady care if I smoke.....Or perhaps you wish for one as well?" The last part came only because Zoe appeared to be indulging in new things. Well that and he had some cigarettes to spare at the moment.

"Why?" she leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice slightly, her lips twitching into a slight smirk, "I want to drink brandy because people told me not to."

She sat back, staring thoughtfully into the glass, "It is one of life's small pleasures to break up the monotony by doing the things we aren't supposed to. And in any case, I'm a younger daughter. I'm not passing on any legacy and have generally enjoyed the advantage of flying beneath anyone's notice. Yes I get the occasional exasperated groan from my parents, but genuine disapproval is reserved for the ones who matter... so why not have some fun?"

...

"Would the lady care if I smoke.....Or perhaps you wish for one as well?" The last part came only because Zoe appeared to be indulging in new things. Well that and he had some cigarettes to spare at the moment.

"That's another thing a young lady is not supposed to do!" her dark eyes sparkled in amusement, "Why not!... but you'll have to show me how it works."

Aden lit his own cigarette at her approval; relishing the different acrid burn while pulling out another for the brunette seated near him. An odd amount of contradictions and inconsistencies that Aden puzzled to piece together. She had obviously come from a well-off family; her knowledge reflected it. Encyclopedic and yet lacking in some of the mundane. Reveling in the ability to experience that which she had been denied.

Aden had gone through a similar phase.

"That's another thing a young lady is not supposed to do!" her dark eyes sparkled in amusement, "Why not!... but you'll have to show me how it works."

Aden gave her the cigarette, adjusting her fingers to mirror his. A flick of his battered lighter and her's was lit; the ember's smoldering. Aden gave an exaggerated inhale, the end of his flaring orange before dying down. An exhale sent the smoke to curl into the air.

He waited for Zoe to mimic it; anticipating an exact mimicry. And the result it would bring.

All the while his own dark eyes pondering over the mystery at the moment that was a Miss Zoe Spyrou.

The post captain nodded and listened to the Col who seemed to have some idea of what might happen in the next few days. They had tailors and had to get fancy outfits for a royal event. Alas his dress uniform was probably burned or loot… damn hard to get a comfortable dress uniform. Bloody columnists. He also had blood on his current uniform and would need at least a copy making that roughly matched. Having to use a knife was messy, too damn messy.

“Thankyou Col. Your hospitality is welcomed and appreciated. Hurry up and wait, we are all familiar with that axiom of military life. Gold, that is always the question, problem and the answer. And all 3 can be true at once.” That was all they could do, Harry to the city, risk life and limbs and now wait. A royal event would be an interesting distraction regardless, strange they invited but he guessed their arrival had not gone unnoticed or what they carried would be unknown. “Even though it is a airship and not a dreadnought, I can say I have grown to like her. I hope she is well taken care of. I hope it weathers the storms as well as it did for us.” He said politely, the ship had saved their lives, a degree of attachment was far from unexpected.

“I would appreciate a map to the telegraph office, I'd hate for my sister in Favis to think I'm dead, take my celler or my brother take our fathers desk, never get it back off his ministry office. Being dead would mean far too much time and paperwork.” He also had a more official encoded message to send that would be more sensitive, he had to report their losses, potential intelligence breaches and the potentially killed or captured among his people if it had not already been sent. Of course they would likely know, but it was only polite to not engage in public acknowledgement of more sordid matters around the table right now.

If there was a Favis consulate, he could get them to send a more complicated brief then via telegram and also find out a more accurate picture of events from their military intelligence and others. Also whoever sent estimates for the columnists needed to really revise those… They were capable of fast and rapid advance, a real field army, not some semi military system. The Navy needed to prepare and take them seriously.

That was another job to do. He took a pull from a hip flask as he looked about the room. “Some of our fellowship are far from home, lost their trades, homes or just have clothes off their backs. So if I might politely ask, that some kind of support is made available. They have shown nerve and bravery, even in difficult times and such should not go without note.”

He finished, it was not too much to ask when they delivered a fortune in gold from under the enemy's nose and denied the enemy a major strategic and economic victory. He doubted they got it all but with it the red war industry would be able to better trade or purchase technology than they would now.

He was a little verbose but he was also clear on his aims and polite to their hosts. The officers might be better placed but some like the brave private or civilians had less resources or fellows to call upon. Even if it was just winter clothes, food and ability to get home / to where they chose.

@Dyelli Beybi

@Terrans

And, true to expectation, Zoe did exactly as Aden had done, breaking down in a fit of coughing, screwing her eyes shut as she did, her nose wrinkling in distaste. When the spasms had subsided, she daintily placing the cigarette in the ash tray, "Well that's my curiosity sated. I think -" she coughed again, "I think, I might leave that one for the gentlemen."

"You know," she said, taking a swig of the brandy to wash away the taste of the tobacco, "I don't think I ever asked - what on earth are you doing in Inbur when the world is all going to hell? In your shoes - and I don't really know your circumstance, so I'm sure there's a good reason to be here - but in your shoes, I think I'd be back in the Commonwealth, smoking those -" she motioned at the cigarette, "- drinking this -" she raised the brandy glass, "And watching while the rest of the world burned."

---

@PrinceAlexus

Swaigers nodded decisively, "Your people will be treated as guests of the Crown until we receive instruction. Until then," he glanced amongst the group, "Unless you have any other questions, please feel free to enjoy the city. Take a stroll down the Königstraße. Read a newspaper or enjoy a coffee."

Aden for all of his troubles, experiences and brashness of youth; looked sheepish as he flicked a bit of ash into a tray.

“Ah well… I got drunk in a bar.” He motioned at the brandy. Taking another puff of his cigarette before continuing. “My family are traders. I was in Inbur to learn the ropes so to speak. Get a handle of the family business. Out ship was docked and I snuck off for some unchaperoned shore leave. I went to the more unsavory side of town. My accent stood out. Someone took offense to it. I took offense to their offense.”

He shrugged. A slight amused smile as he tapped a cheek.

“Inburian boy had a hell of a right hook. Too bad for him my uppercut was better.”

Another puff of his cigarette.

“Spent a night in the drink tank. Woke up to them hauling me to court. Thought I was a different drunkard; a habitual fighter. One constable though gave me a choice. Said I could join the army and the charges would all be dropped.”

Aden pulled out his lighter again. The battered unit lighter with the 46th Alpine’s insignia on one side. The Inburian standard on the other. A slight smile on his face.

“I took it. At the time it seemed to good to be true. A new life away from my familial obligations. A pardon from crimes that I was being accused of. Adventure and glory….”

The smile died at the last part.

“I don’t regret joining up. Serving your country. Fine men. Good brothers and friends. Just wish I wasn’t here seeing the world burn in front of me. Don’t even know who’s…”

A few beats of silence as Aden’s face turned from mournful to thoughtful.

“Say you don’t think that they would publish a list of casualties right? From the front? Like an obituary…. It would be in a newspaper right??!! Or a pamphlet.”

He seemed to be getting excited. Not for the morbidity of the subject but rather the possibility, the hope, that someone he knew was still out there. Or at the very least not confirmed dead.

Not matter how slim.

@Dyelli Beybi