Vilantia Prime, House of Mental Warmth

For the first time, all of Aa'Lafione's wives were experiencing the sterile atmosphere and unkind medicinal under-scents of the House of Warmth that contrasted deeply with the warm fields and gentle winds outside. All of the debates and arguments of the past weeks had concluded without a clear result, but something needed to be done for the Clan to continue. Being stewarded by commoners stung deeply, even though one of the commoners was Minister of Culture. There was little doubt that something needed to be done. They all could agree on one thing - this seemed to be the plan that the Freelord would have chosen.

For Aa'Lafione himself, the past few days had been spent drowsing. He couldn't focus on the challenge, which was problematic. It seemed as if thoughts came and went with the scent of fog, and he would only regain himself for fleeting moments. It was a concern, but it was a concern he could overcome. He knew the words to speak, the words that would bring the Arbiters and by extension the False Lord and his daughter to the right path. After that, his daughter would marry appropriately and rapidly, and the child would be presented to the Throne; then the next portion - intertwining his line and the Throne, assuring that Greatclan Aa'Lafione would remain a beacon of the Clan Way even in these times, and indeed for all time. And with the mercenary force as his own sworn fist, there would be none to gainsay him - perhaps even the Throne themselves would begin looking to him for counsel.

As he sat comfortably in his chair, these thoughts preoccupied him so much that he didn't notice that all of his wives were in his study. He frowned at the glistening eyes with a scent of sorrow underlying their initial joy.

"I had given orders to be undisturbed. Yet my wives come to me - ah, you wish to give your champion laurels before battle." His smile was confident and assured, the future laid out before him clearly.

Raloni's voice was soft as she spoke. "We wish for you to see something. It is not a comfortable thing, but it is a thing you must see."

There was a calm wave. "What manner of discomfort will there be - I will lay my head at the hearth of victory, and you will all share this triumph. Show it, if you must."

The wives gathered around him, each in their own place with an arm about him in some way. Their collective scent was comforting in a way. He would show his wives that there was no challenge he could not overcome, starting with whatever awaited on the holo.

The holo sprang to life, showing Vilantianic Stadium and the great roaring crowd there - Aa'Lafione inwardly congratulated himself on choosing such a place steeped in history and import; the nobles, thousands of his sworn and indebted were in the lower bowls where their scent and voice would carry to convince the Arbiters that whatever their hearts felt they would heed the call of the Greatlord, and avail themselves of his boons when he chose to grant them.

Then he saw himself. It was confusing and he looked to each of his wives who sat expressionless. "This - trickery?"

Raloni voice was a thick rumble. "No, my love. Witness the event with your heart."

When Gryzzk arrived with his purple-clad charlatans, there was a sharp warning of some sort - beyond the ill colors was something dark lurking there, unseen and scentless but there nonetheless. Even as the Freelord placed his stolen weapon down, claiming another glory that was not his to claim, there was unease deep within.

The challenge began, with the holographic image giving his words and thoughts as if he'd crafted them himself - even the parts he'd been completely alone for. This was no trickery, it was a recording - a recording of events he didn't remember. Still he was pleased to have delivered the words as well as he had, and the alarms stilled for a moment.

As the challenge continued, the alarms in his mind began anew, sounding an ancient bell as the Freelord spoke words from a tablet. Words he had never heard, but recognized as the style of the Eleventh Lord A'Shanyu. He shook his head, tried to move his limbs but found that his wives held him in a grip of iron, forcing him to watch as three Arbiters found the words pleasant and the scent truer than his.

It continued - he willed his holo-self to speak properly of Leadership, of the price it took to be a leader. It was one of the most excellent speeches he had ever made, and the gnawing unease abated again only for it to return redoubled as Gryzzk pointed at his band of miscreants and spoke a single word to them.

Aa'Lafione recognized this, finally - it was a trap, a farce, something made to bring him low, anything but - but what it was. He took a shuddering breath, his mind reeling with the sorrow and shame from his wives. He had to do something against this, he had to get out. He had to fight; the challenge was lost and all he could do now was...

...nothing. He watched as he took up his own clan-weapon in a desperate bid to make the Freelord's win the most costly one of his life, but even that was denied as he was disarmed and then left to live. Aa'Lafione's world went grey as inconceivable reality shouldered aside this comfortable dream, and then the room went dark.

When he blinked, he saw by the sun that time had passed. But he remembered. He realized where he was, speaking words that seemed to come from another mouth, but he recognized his voice as he spoke to his wives.

"The Clan Way. The Way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. Is there a path to honor that remains..." Aa'Lafione's voice went quiet as he spoke. "I...I wish to know what I have missed."

There was a fractional nod of sorts shared between his wives, their grip relaxing as the Greatlord looked around finally, a thousand questions in his mind.

___________

Homeplate

Gryzzk glanced at the clock and groaned softly. It seemed that morning had arrived and was quite determined to make him shift from a lovely bed with lovely wives to father and leader of an expanding Legion. He slid from his place and checked on the twins as they performed the miracle of sleeping in before he dressed in his uniform and went to make breakfast.

As he set his morning breakfast in place, he tapped his tablet for a channel. "Rosie - executive summary regarding the Pavonians. First question - are they gendered, and if so advise regarding defining characteristics."

Rosie's voice came over the tablet. "Good news is, we don't need a lot of environmental changes; Pavonia's at one-point-two standard G. As far as figuring out which ones stand up to take a whiz, physically the men have bigger throat pouches and socially Pavonian society is matriarchal and very much driven by caste. Not as bad as y'all's, but the avenues for social advancement are limited. For your personal knowledge, Mulish is a guy and Glorious Second Philon is in fact going to the gal's room."

"Hrm. Advise the company we will be forming after the lunch hour for formal introductions." Gryzzk finished his breakfast and settled in with his tea. "What rank does Mulish hold?"

"Maintenance Technician, Second Class. Awards and commendations as follows: three years long service, six years long service, nine years long service, and twelve years long service." Rosie paused. "Someone sent him a hospital pass with this gig."

"I presume Glorious Second Philon has a lengthier list of awards?"

Rosie's snort was answer enough, but the scroll across Gryzzk's tablet expanded on the tale. "The shorter list is the one she hasn't been awarded - specifically the Pavonian Shining Soul of Glorious Victory, which is only awarded posthumously. As far as her ship rank and duty structure goes, she's the Tactical Officer and third in command." There was a moment before she continued. "Mulish's duties appear to consist of cleaning the scales and toejam from the plumbing."

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Gryzzk shook his head. "Presumably they have different orders. See if we can discretely find out what those orders are and guide them appropriately. Send them an invitation for dinner at my quarters tonight."

"Ah, yeah about that." Rosie seemed to pause for a moment. "Check your message bin for one from Lomeia. Dinner invitation for tonight; 'Freelord, your presence is required at the evening hour to partake in a meal at the hearth of our love - I pass along orders from a direct representative of One Who Sits the Dawn Throne; attendance by self and wives most mandatory, informal dress. Keep these words close to your soul.' That's definitely odd."

Gryzzk blinked and thought. And shook his head. "No, can't be that."

"Okay I'm passing the hat, buy me a clue."

"The phrasing. A direct representative of the Throne would be one of the Throne-Consorts or a Minister - and the phrasing is such that his is not to be made public. By anyone - including you, XO." Gryzzk swallowed a larger-than-expected amount of tea to calm himself, which resulted in a brief pain along his throat. "Reply precisely as follows: The Freelord accepts but prays the light gods deliver a wash of enlightenment to his twilight-ridden soul."

Gryzzk's wives padded out to the kitchen, blinking away the sleep as they each carried one of the twins and began their day. It was amusing on one level to see their differences - Grezzk was in a house robe of a deep purple, and could almost have stepped out for shopping with only a moment to select the shoes. Kiole was a wreck, wearing a T-shirt of some Hurdop band along with half-shorts that appeared to have been uniform pants in a previous life. They both moved to nuzzle one side of Gryzzk's face before they took their own breakfast to the table.

"My handsome hand is troubled." Grezzk's statement was somewhat detached, as she was still marshalling her faculties for the day.

"Only somewhat - there seem to be wheels in motion that involve all of us, as well as the Lomeia triad."

Kiole frowned. "Is there another noble from one of our homeworlds requiring education?" She stood, beginning to move to the bedroom. "I put my pistol in the headboard..."

There was a headshake. "No this does not seem to require weapons, Lady Warrior."

A soft hmph was his reply. "So you say now."

"It is an invitation to dinner, formal wording but informal dress."

"I'll bring my informal sidearm." Kiole's voice indicated that the subject was not a debatable one.

"Very well. Concealable please."

Grezzk looked a tad uncomfortable as she spoke. "If it is prudent to carry weapons, perhaps we could utilize the twins' carrier."

There was a nod from Kiole. "Just in case, yes." She looked at Gryzzk. "Don't worry. We'll only bring stunners."

Further discussion was interrupted by a knock. Gryzzk flicked his eyes to the door to see that it was O'Brien, dressed in most of her formal uniform and showing no ill effects from the previous night.

"Sergeant Major, come in."

As O'Brien entered, the daughters burst from their room to sit upon O'Brien's feet, shouting joy at Auntie O'Brien's arrival. The Sergeant Major was unapologetic. "I heard Dublin Coddle for lunch. I didn't want to chance it. Already had breakfast."

Grezzk nuzzled her husband briefly. "You have wise sworn, handsome hand." She moved to get a cup of coffee for the Sergeant Major.

O'Brien settled on the couch as everyone began repositioning for the day. "I assume Edwards wants to go to OCS and learn to be a fool?"

"She expressed this desire to me last night. However, she did mention that both our approvals are required."

There was a bare shrug. "She'll make a fine lieutenant. The only thing that's ever held her back was her parents. Career non-coms both, fine leaders - and as per tradition, death on the brass."

Gryzzk lifted an eyebrow. "Does that include me?"

There was a soft snort. "Major, I am reminded of a wise Terran saying; 'Ignorance is bliss.' You may safely assume that every decision you've made has rubbed one of your enlisted the wrong way at some point. If you're smart, you'll ask later to learn."

Gryzzk demurred. "Understood. Now, the rest of today. Advise the company there will be afternoon formation in order to introduce our Pavonian guests and lay out the course for the expansion. We'll need work crews for the quarters and permanent ship berths." Gryzzk paused. "If there is to be further expansion of the Legion, we may wish to investigate the possibility of acquiring our own base. For now, I should very like your input regarding the officers of our companies..."

The conversation continued in that vein until precisely ten, when the entry chime signaled. Gryzzk and O'Brien threw on their formal jackets and stood for a long moment before Gryzzk acknowledged the chime. "Enter."

Edwards arrived in full formal uniform. Her movements were stiff, and the children seemed to note the gravity of the moment as Edwards presented her tablet to O'Brien first before standing rigid.

"Sergeant Brelyna Edwards requesting permission to detach for Officer Candidate School, Sergeant Major."

O'Brien's voice was measured as her eyes swept over the tablet. "Your files are in order. Sergeant, you have my approval." There was a pause. "Fuck this up and you'll be scrubbing every piece of hardware in Recon with a pin." The tablet was duly placed back in Edwards' hand.

"Hooah, Sergeant Major." Edwards gave a quarter-twist before moving precisely to stand in front of Gryzzk. "Permission to detach, Major."

Gryzzk looked over the tablet calmly; while this was for show, this was a show that held a measure of importance. He looked over Edwards' full record slowly before he nodded gravely.

"Sergeant, permission is granted. Today you will attend all company functions. Tomorrow at zero-eight-hundred you will report to the Commandant as an officer candidate for further instruction." Gryzzk tapped his approval before handing the tablet back. "We will await your return, Candidate."

There was a wash of relief from Edwards as she left. O'Brien promptly ditched her uniform jacket, smiling softly. "If she doesn't graduate in the top three I'll buy her a round at Sparrow's."

"And if she does?"

"I'll buy two rounds."

The rest of the morning was dedicated to the logistics of expansion as the scents of cooking suffused the atmosphere - the four functioning ships were designated as temporary living quarters for the incoming company members pending completion of their actual living space, with other appropriate spaces being created. The ship that was being cobbled together by the engineering teams was designated as a supply depot.

"XO, our complement is supposed to be expanding to six companies total, correct?"

"Correct, Freelord."

Gryzzk considered for a moment. "I would like to have a seventh ship - the final ship would be specifically for training purposes. We could test new doctrines and educate new recruits who may be unused to operating with other species. We would consider it an investment."

"Makes sense to me - so for the training ship, we've got options. There's a Terran Self-Defense Navy frigate that's being decomm'ed for option one, and then option two is we've got a couple more shitboxes from Hurdop and Vilantia we could bash together."

Gryzzk paused. "What about all three? Use the Terran frigate as the superstructure, and then take what we can utilize from the homeworld ships. I'd like to prepare for the possibility that it may be pressed into active service at a later date."

"More spendy but doable. We'd have to have everybody on contract five minutes after they were commissioned."

"I believe that was the initial plan, XO."

"Yeah, but now instead of figurative, it's literal."

"As I recall, our next Legion contract was for a Third Contact mission. Advise our employers that the full Legion will be attending and confirm appropriate compensation will be delivered to our account."

O'Brien's eyebrow went up fractionally. "Major?"

"Yes Sergeant Major?"

"That is dirty. Next time we make a grocery run to Terra for drygoods, could you come to the warehouse and haggle down the price?"

There was a soft chuckle. "Perhaps. The war taught us all a variety of skills. In any event, we have guests arriving shortly - the Pavonians will be here after the lunch for an initial briefing."

Lunch itself was a quiet affair, with everyone marveling at Grezzk's skill in blending spices from three worlds. Finally after her third bowl, O'Brien pushed herself back from the table.

"I need a nap or a beer. If you don't send the recipe home with me miss Grezzk, Colm'll take it as grounds for divorce - I don't think I've had a finer meal outside me own Mam's kitchen."

There was a soft smile at the praise. "Of course, Sergeant Major."

The entire household was moving slowly after the meal - even Millennium, who had been brought to the table for his own lunch. It had been quite frankly a busy day and it was barely half over. Finally there was a chime, and the holo showed the two assigned Pavonians.

Gryzzk nodded slowly, ensuring his uniform was clean. "Enter."

The Pavonians seemed a bit reserved as they entered, taking stock of the room carefully as if analyzing every portion of it, their tongues flicking out here and there. Their clothing seemed more metallic - it almost appeared to be Pavonian combat armor save for the portions that appeared to be decorated with their service medals. After a lengthy look at O'Brien, Philon finally turned and addressed Gryzzk from behind Mulish.

"Freelord Major, before we begin I wish to make one fact perfectly clear - neither myself nor Mulish will fall to the pelvic sorceries of either you or your company."

That wasn't expected at all, and Gryzzk shared a glance with both O'Brien and Kiole, who both appeared similarly dumbfounded. "I'm afraid I am uncertain of the specifics you refer to."

There was a haughty exhalation and a waggle of a three-fingered hand. "Your executive officer was kind enough to provide a complete dossier with respect to all your lurid actions - quite voluminous. We have only reviewed as far as Furry Fornicators of Planet Pheromone Volume Five, but rest assured we will complete the series prior to tomorrow."

Gryzzk took a deep breath. "ROSIE! Present yourself immediately!"

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