Penny

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene gazed around the private entertainment room and the discrete passageway which opened into darkness. Unlike the crass extravagance of the house above it was tastefully furnished. Rather than tile or other flooring, the chamber was bare rock which had been polished to a micron smooth finish. The pale white limestone was shot through with veins of reddish laterite with inclusions of mica which shone like gold. The furnishings were of intricately tooled leather which must have been done by hand at considerable expense. Rene wondered if Armon was more nuanced than the rest of the house suggested or if, in the case of a room that saw as little use as this one evidently did, he had just left the decor to professionals.

“Maybe we could stay here until nightall,” Rene began, thinking aloud rather than formulating a concrete plan. It would be easier to move after dark and it was unlikely that anyone not specifically looking for them would find the entrance.

“I do not advise lingering Sir Rene,” purred Mia in a tone which invited one to linger.

“A group of eighteen individuals has entered the ground floor, they appear to be led by a former employee of my master. I calculate the odds of arson to be high.”

“Are there Gids with him?” Rene asked, his eyes roved the room as he spoke, instinctively scanning the ground he might need to fight on. There was a recessed cabinet at the back of the room which held bottles of wine. He moved to it and opened the door and began stuffing bottles into the backpack he had salvaged from the first aid kit.

“Trade goods,” he mouthed to Solae, in an instinctive soto voce even though logically he knew that Mia could hear him and would not be confused by multiple conversations. He had no idea of Shyshin could even metabolize ethanol, but the rare vintages would certainly be worth something to the sort of interloping traders who they were likely to need to get off New Concordia.

“I am unfamiliar with the term Gids,” Mia replied breathily as if thrilled by a revelation he was about to impart.

“Uhh… local army or police,” Rene clarrified, zipping his pack when he judged he had as much as he could easily carry. Liquid wasn’t light and the glass bottles were heavier than their small size belied.

“No, they appear to be mostly lower class civilians, though several are armed,” Mia replied now that her silicon brain had a frame of reference to make the sort.

“I could probably…” Rene trailed off, he had been about to say he could probably kill eighteen poorly armed and unprepared civilians. The Marine Corp would doubtlessly have approved of his elan but it only took one lucky shot to leave Solae alone and exposed. Furthermore, if even one of them escaped he would carry word to the locals that something was up at Lord Armon’s manor. Worse if they started a fire, the Gids would respond and might accidentally trap them in the corden, they couldn’t afford to wait.

“Mia,” Rene began, he glanced at Solae, unable to articulate exactly what he as thinking or a moment.

“Do you have a… an offsite backup?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, I back up daily,” Mia responded, her voice losing a little of its sultry playfulness to address so technical an inquiry.

“Can you back yourself up please?”

“I can Sir Rene, but why do you request such a thing?” Rene looked around the entertainment room, imagining it filling with smoke as the manor blazed above it. Mentaly watching the roof sag and give way as the structural members gave way and the whole place collapsed. He had no idea where Mia’s control boards were located but he doubted she would survive such an inferno. The manor had been a refuge and Mia had been… well a friend he supposed, even if it was simply programing.

“I’d rather you not perish if there is a fire,” he explained awkwardly.

“My programing instructions would be preserved…” Mia began but Rene cut her off.

“Please it would make me more comfortable.” There was a momentary silence before Mia spoke again. There was muffled crashing above them, as the intruders began to loot or vandalize. There mindlessness of it annoyed Rene, there was nothing they could carry off that was worth a hundredth of what they were destroying for spite. Then again he had been willing to gun down twenty drunken revelers who no doubt had families and friends for the sake of a few hours of sunlight.

“I have backed myself up Sir Rene, and if it is appropriate for me to do so, I wish you and my Lady Falia every success.”

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Ma'am," Rene responded automatically, his eyes fixing on a point on the wall at the end of the corridor rather. His body began to brace to attention inspite of himself in what, by now, was an instinctive reaction to being dressed down by a superior. The response was a little ridiculous given that he wasn't in the same room, or even within actual earshot of Solae, but it was what his body defaulted to in such a situation. There was a long silence.

"Mia are you still transmitting?" The AI didn't dain to respond. Was it possible that it, she, was advanced enough to take Solae's side and give him the silent treatment? Perplexed he shook his head. Perhaps, if even a computer could make a judgement, he was in the wrong. Solae was a grown woman and it wasn't fair of him to treat her as though he knew her better than she did herself. The disturbing dream played over in his mind as he headed for the dining room, Amelia and Solae's faces flickering like guidance beacons on a jump approach. Maybe he was giving himself too much credit, he had trauma he wasn't dealing with also. The Marines trained their recruits to face situations like this but Rene had been a little too well educated for their training methods to work one hundred percent. He was not able to lose himself in thoughtless violence or mindless patriotism the way a simpler man, like Bowie, might have done. He doubted any other Marine at the rat trap would have hesitated for an instant if made the same offer Solae had been making him. Cursing himself for a fool he decided to make lunch and deliver it as an apology.

"Mia," he called as he entered the dining room and headed for the improvised kitchenette where Solae had baked her cookies. The AI remained stubbornly silent.

"Mia do you have the recipe for Kyndara?" A light pulsed nearby, interrogatively. Kyndara was a traditional dish of the nobility, in the game of court it was symbolic of an apology. The light fluffy cake was often shaped into a small but elaborate sculpture, in theory by the petitioner but more realistically by court chefs. Rene could neither bake nor sculpt the dish but with Mia's help it was just possible he could get the point across and produce a lunch which would not be immediately fatal.

"I have the recipe Sir," Mia said, her tone a little cold. Rene was about to make a retort when a flicker of movement caught his eyes. Out of the main window he saw the trees that lined the pathway flicker gold. He was about to dismiss it as random pheromones but the pattern repeated. A single pulse of gold, rippling along the line of silver foliage, passing the color from tree to tree like a baton. A single pulse could be a chance of the wind but a repeated one... The gold wave swept by again, and then again. Something was disturbing the end of the pathway, brushing by the trees. Something, or someone.

"Shall I begin preparing the dish Sir Rene," Mia asked, unaware of what was transpiring within the Marine's mind. Someone, probably a group of them, were at the end of the driveway. THey might be looters, or they might be Gids, maybe even just civilians, but it didn't bode well for them in any of those cases. He picked up the assault rifle and dashed for the bedroom, pounding his fist on the doorway.

"Solae, Solae I think we have company!"

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Araby, Camila thought, or maybe the new lands across the see that the Tilean’s claimed to have discovered. Any place that had never heard of an accursed snow flake seemed fine to her at this particular moment. She as picking her way up the snowy bluff, stumbling and slipping with each few feet on the ice sicked rock. Above them from the top of the bluff she could see the storm of sleet being blown in by the Sea of Claws. It was a mad season to make war, but these were mad times.

The weather had turned foul the afternoon of the second day and even with such a small force progress was slow and painful. There were only thirty of them but they were all veterans whom Ivan had selected personally as much for their stealth and wood craft as for their abillity with weapons. Three of the group were sallow faced hunters from Hochland and each of them carried a long rifle. The weapons were nearly as long as Camilla was tall and each had the look of a hand crafted piece, lovingly maintained by generations.

The Tilean herself was the most out of place in the company having no particular knack for the outdoors, but she was small and quick and smart enough to follow the lead of Ivan Petrovich and his band of hand picked killers. She was glad of the trio of Kislivites. Only one of the men was from the Count’s force, the rest being made up of mercenaries and she didn’t doubt that their uses for her without Petrovich’s backing would be few and predictable.

At Ivan’s suggestion they had picketed the horses a half mile south of their objective in a small sheltered ravine. With the air of a man who was an unquestioned authority on the subject, he explained that horses were easily spooked by Norscan’s and their strange magics. Camilla couldn't help but sympathise with the beasts on that point.

With a groan she heaved herself the last few feet onto the top of the bluff, feeling the cold cut into her as she lost the shielding that the rock had provided from the insidious wind. It was already darkening though not long after noon, the northern days were short at this time of year, but the vista of Windbitters bay was nonetheless impressive.

The two arms of the by rose into steep rocky bluffs that jutted out into the sea forming a natural harbor. The gray choppy waters still roiled in uneasy white caps, but without the titanic violence of the ocean beyond. The bluffs were topped with unhealthy looking bushes and low stunted trees which clutched at the rock with grim determination. A rind of ice clutchd at the rocks in the bay but these grew less frequent as one came to the center where a long beach of gray gravel and broken shale spread like a stain. It as a long way from the sandy beaches she knew from costal Tilea. As yet the bay was empty, no forrest of masts or hell-sworn reavers had arisen. It as too early to expect it, it might take days for the Norscan’s to learn that the Duke had taken his force to Kronstat and sail to this forlorn landing spot.

Instinctively Camilla cast an eye eastward towards the Town, she didn’t know what she expectd to see, it was over a days march from here, but as it happend the darkness and poor weather obscured anything more than a mile or so distant. SHe clapped Ivan on the shoulder and began securing a rope to a large boulder.

“Set two men to watch, we will camp in the ravine below, no fires but at least we will be out of the wind.”

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

unebug’s mouth flattened into a hard line of disapproval as the brief scuffle unfolded. She glanced at Taya’s screen as the girl moved to interpose herself between the two men. Most of it was nonsense to her, save for the running video of a news cast discussing the video of ‘Aiden’ killing his sister.

“How do we know he is even still here?” Aiden asked pointedly refusing to look at Neil.

“He probably is, down with the command group of this little coup,” Sayeeda replied, running a hand through her slightly too long hair. She made a mental note never to leave the Highlander without her armor again and then mentally chided herself for it. You couldn’t be on all the time, not and still be human at any rate.

“Besides he dosen’t strike me as the kind to leave his hot little piece here...” she nodded at the trussed woman. She was awake now and gared at Sayeeda with impotent fury, unable to speak for the cargo tape over her mouth.

“... all alone,” Sayeeda concluded and winked suggestively at the bound woman. Spots of color appeared on the other womans cheeks, making her look lovely rather than the enraged she was probably going for.

“What are our options then, go down their shooting? Surely it has to be more complicated than that.”

“People always seem to think going in shooting is uncomplicated,” Junebug complained philosophically.

“But he has already spread the video that shows you killing your sister,” Taya interjected, “Will the people still support you?”

“I had enjoyed fairly broad based support, this conspiracy is based on whipping up uncertainty rather than any love for Alexander,” Aiden said looking uncomortable.

“We can release the unedited footage,” Taya said, “It might take a while but people will accept the …”

“Yeah yeah,” Junebug interjected, “all very interesting points to consider after the usurper is dead. Taya get into the video feeds and find out where they are.” The girl leaped to the console and began typing furiously.

The bound woman’s eyes flicked to the door, beacuse Junebug was looking at her she caught the motion. The indicator had gone green, someone was in the hall. She lifted her weapon just as the door hissed open.
@POOHEAD189

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

The roof of the manor sloped at only a few degrees above flat. Armistice was located near the equator of New Concordia and the temperature never lowered enough to permit the snow that would require a high pitch. The surface was covered with smooth tiles which looked to be some sort of red brown ceramic but Rene suspected were miniaturized solar collectors. He found access through a seldom visited upper floor doorway which he suspected was used mostly by Armon's servants for repairs and pulled himself up the narrow access way to a small hatch which lead to the roof. Like alot of the manor it had a seemlessness which bespoke expense more effectively than gold plating might have done.

From his rooftop vantage point Rene was able to see out over the estate, it was nearing noon and the day was sweltering, the hot sun evaporating the rain of the night before in a thick humidity which promised to soak him in sweat if he spent more than a few minutes outside the temperature controlled sanctuary of the manor. The gardens extended in all directions, Mia said the estate was several dozen acres but its neighbors were similar properties which made the boundaries uncertain. The manicured gardens gave way to groves of what might be fruit trees. Rene was no botanist but he though he could recognize the distinctly green leaves of Terran varieties. Macadamia and something fragrant, cinnamon or vanilla. It was doubtful that Armon grew anything so crass as commercial crops but it was easy to understand the desire for pleasant smelling surrounds. Off to the west columns of smoke still blackened the horizon in the city proper. Rioting and looting were certain in the chaos following the coup but it seemed less pronounced than it had been the day before. Some authority remained in the city.

Rene didn't know how long it would be before Solae was ready to move, but his instincts told him that they couldn't remain in this relative oasis forever. Someone would be along soon, a second wave of looters if nothing worse. Any competent search would begin with Solae's known associates. Armon had probably been exempted from the list because he was dead but as time passed and the noble woman wasn't found the search would be expanded.

"Sir Rene, Lady Solae is trying to contact you," Mia announced her voice sounding wan and off tone somehow.

"Mia how can you reach me out here?" he asked curiously, sliding back towards the hatch.

"There aren't audio pick ups on the roof are there?"

"I am able to use the tiles as improvised speakers," Mia explained, her voice growing normal as he slipped into the hatch and into the cool sanctuary of the upper hallways.

"Put Solae through please."

The Marine listened to the Marquesas's words, his feelings a confused jumble of emotions. That she seemed suprised that he would help her with no thought for himself was natural enough he supposed. They had both swam in the same societal waters as children and unvarnished self interest was far more common than altruism. Rene didn't know how to make her understand, perhaps didn't know himself, exactly why he had done what he had done and would continue on the same path. It tugged painfully at the edges of his carefully constructed shell to think about it too hard. He hadn't been able to save Ameilla. He had failed her and she was dead. He deserved to be where he was, to be nobody. He stopped walking and leaned his head against a cool stone wall.

"I supposed droping the De from De Quentain isn't a tremendous disguise," he began, subconsciously addressing the easiest part of her statements first. Theoretically he could have picked another name when he signed up but he hadn't been willing to. Part of it was that he wanted to be punished and another part of him refused to completely divest himself of all he had been before.

"You are a good woman Solae," he went on.

"And I'd have saved you if I could no matter who you were. I'm not going to let them sell you at auction or use you as a bribe no matter what happens."

"As for your behavior, you don't have anything to apologize for, we have both been through alot, and probably will have to go through alot more yet before we are free of all this. I'm not a noble any more and I dont want you to do anything that ... you know you would regret later." The sentence trailed off as the words formed in his mind.

"No matter how... appealing it might be to me," he concluded in a rush.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Taya sat hastily at the terminal and began to type furiously absorbed in columns of holoprojected data which meant nothing to Sayeeda. The mercenary explored the luxurious room while the younger woman worked, pausing long enough to truss the unconscious seator in cargo tape. She wondered what would happen to him if Aiden survived this attempted coup, not that she much cared, he had rolled the dice and if the odds came out against him he didn’t have anyone to blame.

“Any idea what you are going to say to your adoring public?” Sayeeda asked Aiden as she straightened from the task, pausing to make sure her weapon was safed. It wasn’t something she would have bothered about with a familiar weapon, but old soldiers were those who realised there was alot you couldn’t control and so you had better make sure you controlled what you could.

“The truth,” Aiden replied simply, looking at the senator with a mixture of anger and sadness. Sayeeda wondered if Aiden really had the stomach to be a ruler. She tried to picture Colonel Andor in a similar situation and found it an impossibility. Andor would have never trusted anyone enough to let this situation arise and he wouldn’t have hesitated to crush it violently and immediately. She wondered if her fate was the same sort of paranoid sociopathy. Well she trusted Niel and Taya and so long as that remained true she was probably safe.

“This is incredible,” Taya breathed and hit a few controls. A hologram appeared in the air, the coherent light illuminating the room in ghostly shades of silver. In the three dimensional image Aiden could be seen creeping through a hallway in dark clothing.

“Hey,” Neil interjected, “that’s the hallway we found your sister…” as he spoke the words Aiden’s sister rounded the corner. There was no sound but she clearly screamed as Aiden sprang forward and buried a knife into her her, stabbing her several times before fleeing, leaving her in the pose in which Neil had found her.

“Whoa…” Sayeeda breathed and all eyes turned to the prince. He held his hands up in desperate protestation.

“I didn’t do it! I couldn’t you were with me!” Aiden whispered, his voice hoarse. Taya entered a few more commands and the recording began again. This time, as Aiden stepped into the frame she paused it and then typed furiously for a minute. The false Aiden disolved into a slightly shorter man. His face was familiar even though the strange suit he was wearing was not.

“That is Kagan,” Junebug noted, he and his team hadn’t been here to take the Highlander, that was just an additional task. The real work had been the assassination.

“Who?!” the prince demanded.

“How?” Neil began. Junebug held up a hand for silence.

“Its impossible to fake holo isn’t it, convincingly I mean, in a way that will stand up to scrutiny,” Taya asked. Junebug nodded.

“Yes but they aren’t faking holo, that suit he is wearing is projecting it and we are holographing that. Could you have unmasked it if you didn’t have multiple camera angles to go by?” Taya shook her head and then looked back at the screen.

“Shit, they broadcast this ten minutes ago across the emergency broadcast, the whole planet just saw you kill your sister my prince.”

@POOHEAD189

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

“1.6 inches?” Rene asked, pausing in his self appointed task of packing supplies into the portable case that the medical kit had come with. The canvas satchel was designed for emergencies and thus portable. Rene had discarded anything he didn’t think was likely to be necessary. Mostly an excess of bandages and diagnostic equipment. He made space for things he judged might be valuable as trade goods, mostly drugs and medications. It was an unfortunate irony that while the manor was priceless, most of the portable wealth had been carried away.

“1.64 inches,” Mia corrected her seductive purr making it sound like a revelation of startling sensual importance. When Solae had spoken of removing the CLTI he had assumed that it was immediately below the skin. He was willing to credit that Solae was a determined woman, the fact that she had survived this long was testament to that, but the odds of her successfully removing such a thing without being in agonizing pain…

He set the pack down and followed Mia’s helpfully provided guidance. The AI had a trick of altering patterns in the light that allowed her to guide people subtly and Rene found that he was hardly aware the computer was directing him. The scanning room was in a lower section of the house. The room was unusually tasteful from what Rene had seen, an unpleasant juxtaposition with the tube like body scanner Solae was emerging from. There was a subtle psychological manipulation at play, archaic tools, wholely inappropriate for the modern artists were staged in various places. Rene wondered how many centruies it had been since a scuptor had used a hammer and chisel rather than a lazer abrasion unit. The intent of the display was clear, this is art, don’t worry.

“Rene?” Solae said with a slight hint of uncertainty. She was still dressed in her undergarments and he tried to control the surge of lust it woke in him. Exhibits signs of sexual attraction Mia had said. With a firm reminder of how inappropriate it would be to take advantage of her given the emotional situation he stepped into the room.

“Our host,” he began, raising his eyes to indicate Mia even though the AI was no more above him than she was beside him.

“Has convinced me that it would be safer if helped take out the tracker,” he told her. Solae looked ready to object but he crossed the room and put his arms around her, effortlessly lifting her onto one of the benches that ringed most of the room. Her body was warm and pleasant in his arms.

“These are for you,” he told her, extending his hand to reval two small blue pills.

“It is inadvisable to ingest the medication directly Lady Solae,” Mia chimed in, “dissolution in water is recommend.” Rene had another queasy feeling regarding this Lord and his manor but there was nothing to do about it now. He looked around the room and found a small beaker containing a number of ornamental paintbrushes which he poured onto the bench before filling it from one of the discrete water spigots. The blue pills fizzed slightly when he dropped them in but they dissolved quickly and colourlessly into the fluid.

“Mia your sure this is safe?” he asked as he handed the beaker to Solae.

“Safe for a partially skilled surgeon to perform a surgical procedure without proper medical facilities?” the computer asked archly. Was that a joke?

“No I mean the drugs,” Rene replied with a touch of asperity.

“Lord Armon gave such a dose to over a dozen women within one standard deviation of Lady Falia’s body mass,” Mia confirmed.

“Well, bottoms up,” he suggested.

Rene wasn’t sure what he had expected but Solae lost consciousness within less than a minute of drinking the concoction. She blinked her eyes once, then closed them, then slumped sideways. He checked her breathing and then lay her unyielding form flat upon the table top.

There was a scalpel in the pouch of first aid supplies, a single use kind that wasn’t too familiar from the combat first aid courses. He pulled the activator tab and the blade heated up as chemicals coating its blade catalyzed in auto sterilization. Mia helpfully projected a laser dot onto the spot in which the scan had located the device. He cracked a chorohexaidne applicator stick and began to scrub being sure to give the antiseptic a full minute to dry.

“Are you ready to begin Sir Rene?” Mia prompted as he hesitated with the blade above her thigh. The computer couldn’t understand the human reluctance to cut into another person. The marines used lifelike simulations both for close quaters combat and battlefield medicine but the difference was vaster by far than he had expected. He looked down at Solae’s supine form, beautiful and nearly naked.

“I feel like I’m about to vandalize a work of art,” he muttered, delaying the cut by another few seconds.

“I’m sure Lady Falia will be very happy to hear that you said that,” Mia responded with the sultry hint of a laugh. Rene drew a deep breath and felt the top of Solae’s thigh with gloved fingers, making sure he didn’t feel the thrum of an artery beneath the skin. Before he could find another reason to delay he drew the scalpel blade down in a short firm cut. The flesh parted easily beneath the razor sharp blade and blood welled up as he sliced through the cappilaries. Without surgical suction it was impossible to keep the cut from filling with blood so he merely watched the laser dot refract in the blood for a moment before cutting deeper into the incision. Fortunately for Rene, the chip lay at a slight crossways angle to the bundled muscle fibre and with his second cut he felt the blade click against the small ceramic casing. Blood was flowing down over the curve of Solae’s thigh and staining the table and her undergarments. He probably should have thought of that but he doubted performing the operation with her naked would have improved his feelings about the situation. Pulling a handful of gauze from the first aid pouch he swabbed the blood away as best he could, catching a glimpse of the ceramic chip. It was about the size of a grain of rice and his cut had exposed one end of it. He reached in with a pair of forceps and grasped the end of it. The blood slicked ceramic was slippery and it took him three attempts to pull it free. Solae’s chest continued to rise and fall in slow shallow breaths as he sprayed the cut with disinfectant, topical anesthetic and a healing factor which would promote the natural healing processes of her body. Finally he produced the same stapler he had used to close the cut on her head and closed the inch long incision with six precisely placed sutures before applying another coating of antiseptic and a surgical covering which adhered to her skin, a slightly darker shade than her natural skin.

“Well done Sir,” Mia complimented him as he sagged back against the wall in exhausted relief.

“Perhaps you missed your calling as a physician.” Rene laughed bitterly.

“Thanks but I have already had more careers than I figured I would need,” he told the AI. Reaching down he scooped up Solae and carried her, carefully, to the bedroom. He didn’t know how long the drugs would keep her out, but he didn’t want her to awaken on a cold stone bench covered in blood.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Camilla tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. The steam of her breath in the frozen winter air would have given her away regardless. The horses plodded along through the icy morning, snow crunching beneath each hoof fall as they headed north under the glowering sky. Ivan Petrovich rode beside her, mounted on a stallion that his hulking size made look like a pony. The Kislivite chuckled as he took a flask from his belt and swigged.

“Not much sleep?” the big man rumbled with a pie eyed innocence which fooled no one. Camilla snorted at the poorly concealed jibe.

“I don’t know how long it will be before I see him again,” she pointed out reasonably. There was no need to clarify who ‘he’ was to an old comrade like Ivan.

“You could at least try to be a lytal qwuiet abou dit. We worry it might start a ri-ot,” the Kislivite went on. Ivan’s three companions chuckled at the quip and several of the close by Imperials laughed nervously also. Ivan and his men were a good deal more rough and tumble than most of the Imperials, even if the force accompanying Camilla was largely mercenaries.

“I WAS trying to be quiet about it Ivan Petrovich,” she said with a wicked smile. The Kislivite’s roared with laughter that startled ravens from the nearby trees. Camilla had bidden farewell to Cydric in the early hours of the morning, with the stern admission that if he got himself killed she would kill him. She didn’t pretend to be pleased about being separated, both from fear of what might happen in the battles to come and from a less articulate fear that Cydric might ultimately be happier in the respectable service of the Count. Such a life might not have room for a disreputable sellsword such as herself.

They rode at a steady trot, abandoning the road for less defined paths through the ice crusted woodland. Camilla never saw Ivan look at a map, but the veteran scout never showed a moment's hesitation in choosing this fork or that. Camilla wondered where the beastmen who usually haunted the Empire’s forests were. Perhaps they traveled southwards like birds, or perhaps they had their own villages in the dark secret places. Worse yet was the notion that something had drawn them off, and they were gathering in a horde bent on slaughter and destruction.

Ivan claimed it would take them two days to reach the high bluffs above Windbighter’s Bay. The Count’s force, larger but moving along better roads would reach Krondstat in a day and a half. There was no way to judge how long the Norscan’s would take to respond. Camilla was keenly aware that if the plan failed, she would be the woman who led a Count into disaster. Worse yet Cydric might be killed. Success had a thousand fathers, but failure a single author.

“You drink da?” Ivan said pressing a flask into her hands.

“It isn’t vodka is it?” she asked suspiciously, sniffing at the flask. Ivan made a disgusted noise.

“Vat is vrong vith vodka,” he asked defensively, it was an unfortunate sentence with his accent but it was probably on par with Cydric’s attempts at Tileian. Pride did not allow her to admit that her Reikspiel might be equally questionable.

“Last time I drank it we wound up lost a sea as I remember it,” she replied. Ivan threw up his hands in exasperation.

“It vas just da wan time!”
@POOHEAD189

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Im half tempted to make a crazy soothsayer...