Homeplate, Stalwart Rose

The officers and NCOs all entered the conference room of Rostin's ship with something akin to unease - at least for the non-Terrans. The Terrans were the subject of uneasy glances all around as they slouched into their seats first. Waniul finally broke the silence.

"Captain Jenkins, how can you be so calm? And your First Sergeant has no anxiety in her scent either."

Jenkins rolled her relatively massive shoulders in a shrug. "Kinda had the second-best seats in the house for most of the Major's career, y'know? I was in one of the grunt platoons when he walked into Rick's. 'Cording to what we heard on the Voided Warranty, he came back with a bag of scalps and a Hurdop kid after his first job, then came back with Vilantian royalty on the second. Then the whole Kerfluffle happened, everything after that - there was a reason every merc company blew up with expansion and was specifically targeting Lead Servants for command roles. Dude bumped up profit margins by two percent just by himself, and with Rostin they went up another three. And he got us what's probably gonna be a recurring gig for the next year at least. Probably five years the way the Moncilat dance about with shit. Major Gryzzk stands on business, so if me and Avery here are gonna live the dream and die on a bed made of whiskey and credits, best place to start's right here with the Twilight Wardrum."

From just behind his elbow, his First Sergeant nodded her assent. "Amen to that Cap'n. Who else got a read on the Major after that first meeting? C'mon fuckers, chips in."

A Hurdop individual bearing the nametag Bulfrek stepped around the table to his place. There was a faint whirring of servos as he settled, an artificial leg being tested. "Freelady Kiole selected her husband well. He shows the field and destination, and intends us to find our way as much as possible but will guide if needed." He nodded. "She'll make a proper Freelord of him and spite his ancestor. I've got a fifty cred bet with Rileth here that she does it inside a year." He nodded with a relaxed manner at the Vilantian First Sergeant standing casually by his chair.

Rileth harrumphed softly. "With all due respect Captain Bulfrek, I do not believe that the Freelord will shed his soul so easily. In either event, we have decided to rename the Lord A'Meeko to go forth as the Twilight A'Meeko, and we will settle our wagers in the next year. As for Freelord Gryzzk, he seems worthy of allegiance."

The grim-faced Vilantian captain across from them with a nametag on her uniform identifying her as Venlid massaged her hands together, allowing her inner conflict to be scented fully. "I...I have difficulty making an assessment. I want to hate him for what he did to my Clan-ship. For his actions in the Three-Day-War. For everything he's done to the Clan Way and Vilantia, I should hate him. But seeing him, hearing him. Taking the scent of his clan, there is no malice there. There is only someone in a situation and making the best of it."

Her First Sergeant, a stoic Hurdop with the name Jirloed on his uniform nodded assent. "Same. The ships of the rose banner tore the fourth part of the Throne's Fortune Assemblage into tattered scraps around Moncilat IV-B." He flicked a hand toward Captain Rostin. "I prefer to have such ships as my clan's friends. And if the price of success is my pride, maybe I was proud of the wrong thing to begin with."

Rostin nodded, fur flaring slightly at the mention of his previous battle. "The cultural frictions are not insignificant, but they can be overcome. They have been overcome. That is why the initial rostering has mixed homeworlds as much as possible. If there are differences that cannot be reconciled, we will need to find them as quickly as possible and re-work them appropriately." Rostin grimaced slightly as the Vilantians and Hurdop all glanced at each other and made the same conclusion. "I ah, hope that any personal differences present in this room can be resolved, and I have something that may help." He glanced at First Sergeant Hikaru, who simply smirked and disappeared momentarily before returning with a bottle containing elegant warning labels from the Moncilat Goods Intake Authority that forbade the bottles from being opened in the Moncilat system. The bottle was opened and contents delivered to glasses. Rostin lifted his glass first.

"Captains, First Sergeants. I present to you Admiral Norrington's Hurantian rum. I was able to purchase it from Doline at Captain Jack's for an unseemly sum. If what she told me about it is true it is distilled on Hurdop by one of Vilantia's finer vintners. Specifically A'Kifab, Major Gryzzk's former lord. The Moncilat bioscanners classified it as an illegal fuel substance. Those standing are encouraged to have a seat."

Jenkins' eyebrow lifted fractionally. "That's gotta be some good shit, Maynard..."

Rostin nodded uncertain agreement. "It is; however a caution to the Terrans - this is blended for our palate and may sting your throats a bit."

The shots were promptly quaffed and there was a round of coughing from the Terrans. First Sergeant Avery blew her nose into a handkerchief after regaining herself. "Christ on a cracker, 'may sting a bit' he says. If this is what it's like going in, I hope I'm too drunk to notice what it's like coming out."

There was a soft chuckle as the shotglasses were replaced with tumblers of ice and the remaining contents poured. Rostin settled himself with a deliberate casualness, hoping his gambit to relax the commanders worked. "So. Let's get to work on our needs." He nodded toward two at the table. "Captain Venlid, First Sergeant Jirloed - your ship is being built from three ships, I think our collective plan should prioritize it's existence. Is there a specific need you have during the design phase?"

Jirloed spoke first. "A library." His fur immediately flattened against his body, but didn't completely cover his bare shoulders. "I mean, if Captain Venlid approves."

There was a soft smile of sorts from Venlid as she explained. "We were examining New Casablanca when we found a Terran curiosity - a bookstore. Actual books made of Terran paper. We'd both heard of such things but to see them, touch them? The shopkeeper gave us friendship's laugh and guided us to sections of books that held stories of Terran myths. We selected a small number."

Jirloed continued where she left off. "We want the sector to know that the Cerberus Rose is so rich that all her company can read and so mighty that she can carry paper-books to battle without fear of loss."

The Terrans looked amused at the name and the non-Terrans confused. Venlid smiled a bit more. "One of the books we purchased was ancient Terran myths, and inside was the tale of a guardian to the afterworld with three heads and venomous beasts all about it's body. We decided it would be a fine name for the ship."

Rostin smiled a bit, looking around the table. "Well then - as long as we're taking our dreams out for exercise...let's dream, hm?"

___________

Homeplate, Gryzzk's quarters

Once he made it back to his home, he found a bit of a ruckus. Edwards was playing with the girls who seemed unhappy about something, while Grezzk was a beacon of joy as she was cooking...something. Kiole was at the table with her prosthetic hand fiddling with something.

As soon as he walked in the girls rushed his legs and sat on his feet and looked up pleadingly.

"Papa, tell Auntie Edwards she can't go!" Gro'zel looked up with her mother's eyes, currently filled with a child's sadness.

Nhoot pressed her face next to her sister, purple eyes similarly distraught. "She'll forget us! She'll forget Skyrim! You hafta order her to stay!"

Gryzzk looked at the dozen eyes staring at him. "Girls. Edwards will be gone for four weeks."

That statement brought on a fresh round of wails. "But that's foreverrrrrrr!"

Gryzzk bent down and picked up the girls with a slight effort. "I know it is. And part of me is sad too. But I'm also happy for her, you know why?"

There were sniffles and faces being buried in Gryzzk's shoulders as he continued. "Edwards is doing something very brave. Very difficult. So you can be sad for yourselves, because four weeks without scent of Edwards is a daunting prospect, even for me. But....you'll want to have stories for her, right? Because when she comes back, you'll need to tell her what you did while she was away, and 'I was sad' isn't a very good story."

The girls nodded, and Gro'zel looked up from her place. "I could tell her about teaching Millennium to be a good bird."

Nhoot snuffled as Gryzzk looked to her next. "And you both can tell her about how you made sure the four new companies know we have the best Morale Officers anywhere."

This seemed to mollify them, and they wriggled to be put down, whereupon they promptly sat down next to Edwards and started taking what they both thought were discrete sniffs of Edwards' scent. Gryzzk took the moment to make his way to the kitchen and shamelessly test the sauce. It seemed a bit flat, and he glanced at Grezzk curiously.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Brelyna is watching the girls tonight for us. I believe your cautious guests have wrung her dry of information, and a night with our children is an ease for her soul. I am told they are going to be playing Skyrim as a group tonight. In recompense, I am making her favorite dish from her ancestral lands - it is called samaki wa kupaka. Grilled fish with a sauce made from something called a coconut. It's almost ready."

"How did you learn this?"

"The children told me when she was showing them things to do in Skyrim. They were complaining that the food looked funny, and she showed them ways to add more foods to the game."

"That seems counter to being in a game set in a foreign land."

Grezzk chuckled softly and gave him a soft nuzzle. "Think of it as them following the scent of their father who brings new things to new lands."

There was a soft crackle of electricity from the table, where Kiole was looking quite pleased with herself as she manipulated her artificial hand - even if her fur was slightly poofed out.

"It works!" Kiole grinned happily. "...now if I can just keep it from exploding."

"Exploding?" Gryzzk immediately moved to shield the children.

"Ah, maybe not exploding. But it feels like an explosion when it backfeeds to my arm."

"What precisely are you doing, love?" Gryzzk was still a bit uncertain about whether or not to be concerned.

"You have your Learning Stick and I have The Fist of Education." Kiole pointed it all out as she explained. I have a movement based generator here, that feeds into these four capacitors along the inside. Each punch charges a capacitor, which is then discharged by contact studs along the knuckles. In an emergency, the internal battery can be used to overcharge the capacitors, but that would damage both the battery and the capacitors."

"I...I see. You're intending to wear it to dinner?"

"Of course."

Gryzzk frowned for a moment until Grezzk leaned into him. "You remember what you said to me before you left, when you insisted on taking a second translator?"

There was a pause for a moment before Gryzzk nodded. "That it is better have and not need rather than to need and not have."

"And you did need it, as it turned out. So allow our wife to protect us as she sees fit. But don't look in the stroller."

"If it comes to that, I will extend my hand and accept whatever is placed in it."

Kiole looked amused. "Also, Reilly sent both of us a message responding to your question - and I quote; 'Patience! For the Jedi, it is time to eat as well.' I presume it refers to some unknown clan."

Gryzzk shrugged helplessly. "I'm not aware of a Clan Jedi. Maybe it's Reilly's equivalent to a Greatclan. In any event I need to change to something informal for dinner." So saying he disappeared into the bedroom for something more casual.

He dithered for a bit with his choices. It was specifically informal, so his normal uniform was right out. It wasn't a sporting match, so his beloved Elsife Village United kit was gone. It wasn't a celebration of success on the job, so those particular clothes were out. Informal didn't mean improper, but still. He was a major, not a fashion icon - despite what the Terran press might think. Additionally there was the concern raised by Kiole - there was, however small, the possibility that violence was in the offing. It didn't help when Kiole came in and selected a highly utilitarian outfit for both herself and Grezzk. Eventually, he did settle on the company bear shirt, exercise shoes, and loose pants.

When he came out, Edwards and the girls were eating dinner while Bob and Doug were skewering the Throne's Dawn company for their latest sub-optimal performance in the field. Edwards was taking small notes while Doug was shaking his head casually.

"...All I can really say is that they're still hung up on their manual and tactical programs from the wars with the Hurdop. I mean they're getting paid but they're not taking Merc-rule 1 to heart at all."

On cue, the two looked at the main camera and intoned "Pillage, then burn" in a stereo effect.

"And that's all the time for tonight - Next up, Jules and Vincent take a long look at the Hurdop Mag-needler and why it's a bad idea to be on the wrong end of one without the right armor - stay tuned for an interview with Corporal Prumila from the Terran Foreign Legion to talk the specs and what it's like to catch a few in the armor. Until next time." The holo flipped to a commercial for the body armor manufacturer the Legion contracted with - Gryzzk doubted that it was a coincidence.

Edwards quirked an eyebrow. "Hope she talked to Rosie before the interview."

"Hmm?" Grezzk cocked her head uncertainly.

"Setup like that's basically telling everyone what Ground Pounders got on tap is pretty much a thirty-minute ad for Flextanium Body Armor." Edwards smiled a bit as she stood. "Anyway, I promise they'll only be able to do 'one more quest' four times before bed."

Gryzzk nodded before standing on tiptoe to give Edwards a light parting sniff. "Thank you, Brelyna." There was a light hesitation as he used her given name - it felt odd on his tongue, as he was far more used to the rank-family name structure at this point. In a way, mercenary titles weren't too different from the naming conventions of Vilantian society. The oddness was when convention dictated that another name be used.

They left Officer Country with the children and a stroller that seemed only a touch heavier than usual - Kiole was apparently not joking about the informal weapons. Gryzzk flicked his lowest set of eyes to the diaper-bag as he caught the scent of stun weapons and knives compactly hidden among diapers and drying powders. In a way it was comforting, all three of them would go to exceptional lengths to protect the infants, however there was a marked difference in methodology.

They went to the NCO quarters and Gryzzk felt different somehow, as if he were an interloper in a space that was not his. It was not unlike entering Lord A'Kifab's marital chamber in the months after the lord and lady had wed, an act of duty not desire. It wasn't exactly difficult to find Reilly's quarters - everyone had added their own personal touches to their doors and the immediate spaces directly in front. Reilly's door had been painted with caricatures of the three occupants in a group embrace and the doormat read "Please wait while we put pants on."

Gryzzk rubbed his forehead, feeling a mild headache coming on. If this was in fact how they decorated when a representative of the Throne was theoretically present, he had no desire to know what was their normal mode of decor. Against his better judgment, he tapped the door-chime for entry.

There was an immediate response that seemed recorded as three voices chorused, "Go away we're fuc-" which was cut off as Reilly opened the door, looking a little embarrassed.

"Uhm, yeah so I kinda forgot to disable that...sorry." She slid the door open fully, revealing that an interior with decor that could best described as wall anarchy. Unlike his home with discrete scent dispensers and orderly holostills of the family, Reilly's home decor was three worlds brawling for space with stills of bands and sports teams prominent among the furniture that was a mix of the worlds, as well as an oversized holo that was playing a Terran space fantasy. Reilly was dressed as decently as he could have hoped, with a cropped shirt that read "Save a horse, ride a Cav Trooper" and shorts that actually extended to her knees.

As they stepped in and maneuvered the stroller so that it was protected, the door immediately slid shut behind them and everyone present was able to take stock of who was where. In addition to Reilly, both Lomeia and Velons were in the kitchen working on a meal of some kind, while there was a fourth individual on the Vilantian couch. Said individual was dressed in a simple gray hooded robe that gave no hint as to their office, duties, or even their face with their natural scent covered by one that Gryzzk had known twice before. The unknown one rose, with the robe taking a male shape before retrieving a message cylinder from one of his sleeves and handing it to Gryzzk wordlessly before similar cylinders were passed to Grezzk and Kiole. Whether or not they heard the faint whine of capacitors as Kiole charged her hand was uncertain, but he didn't acknowledge it.

"Please read the message before asking questions, Freelord." Their face was hidden and their voice modulated artificially, further compounding the oddness.

Gryzzk thumbed the catch and pulled out a scroll of the finest vellum he'd ever caught scent of. In ornate gold-inked script was a directive from the Throne themselves to Freelord Gryzzk, Lord of Freeclan O'Gryzzk, Commander of the First Battalion of the Terran Foreign Legion under the auspices of the of the Terran Seventh Cavalry, Major of Alpha Company of the Terran Foreign Legion, Master of the ship Twilight Rose and Co-Steward of Greatclan Aa'Lafione to attend the words and scent conveyed by the bearer as if they were in the presence of the All-Wise Thirty-Fourth Throne of Vilantia Themselves.

As soon as Gryzzk finished reading, his instinct was to panic. He was wearing informal clothes in front of what was effectively the Throne. He dropped to a knee, ignoring the slight pain as the joint slammed hard into the carpet. After a long moment, Gryzzk lifted his head to chat with the ceiling. "I regret that I was not able to complete my apologies for the damage I caused to the Throne's palace at our prior meeting. I pray the Throne's Command is not beyond my capability."

Grezzk reacted similarly after reading but kept her voice stilled, and after a beat Kiole also took a knee but kept her eyes level.

There was a soft sound of acknowledgment. "Rise and take comfortable positions, good Freelord and Freeladies. I am the Lead Servant of Vilantia and I hold a charge to all here." The Lead Servant waited a moment while everyone settled before continuing.

"What I say now goes not beyond those present. The Throne will deliver their heir to greet the galaxy within the year. In addition to this, the Consort Wife also carries a child within her den. History tells us that when there are two heirs, there will come conflict. That was the situation thirty-four generations past; two heirs came to such strife that the only solution was one taking their sworn and leaving Vilantia entirely to settle the Hurdop system. Since that time, the Throne has always found a favored Greatclan to raise any second-child as an adopted member of their family. If tragedy befalls the Throne-heir, the second is expected to take their place if events have transpired to prevent proper succession."

There was distinct confusion as Gryzzk looked to his wives and then back to the Lead Servant. "I have questions at this time."

"Speak them, Freelord."

"Why...this? Why us?" Gryzzk's confusion was blunt and evident.

A light chuckle was his initial reply. "The Throne sees value in what you have created, and what you've done. The old ways cannot hold, but something new must take place of the old. You are here because I have been quietly observing the Legions for some time." There was a gesture to Reilly and her two lovers, all of whom seemed inordinately pleased. "There stands the new, three worlds joining to replace the old. As their lord and ladies, you will have duties to attend. The first duty to all of you is to present yourselves to the Throne in due time to take charge of the second child at the appropriate time. Your second duty is to raise the child as a member of your own clan. If events make it such that the second child must be made aware of their parentage there will be a compensation. Your final duty is to make no mention of the child's parentage beyond this place or time. Are there further questions?"

Kiole was the only one with a question, a single word. "O'Gryzzk?"

The Lead Servant made a soft noise, as if there was an uncertain joke in the wings. "It is by proclamation of the Throne. In recognition of what now exists, the Free Clans of Vilantia are to be differentiated with the O' prefix." There was a silent moment. "The Throne was advised of the witnessed actions of Sergeant Major Aerin of Clan O'Brien and felt it proper to honor her."

Reilly snickered as she hopped from one foot to the other in almost child-like glee. "Pleeeease let me tell the Sergeant Major?"

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