The Flowers that Bloom in the Spring (Closed)

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Gods above and below ... what a fucking mess.

Ilona was the first to react, bless her for not losing her shit as well. There was a tightness around Nathi's eyes for a moment as she adjusted her hearing augs to compensate for the high-pitched shrieking and general caterwauling - some things had never been very tolerable, and this was one of them. Still, anger was not likely to accomplish much. Nor was her usual arch attitude, flashing eyes, and silent looks of disapproval that had been enough to send Dominion and Treznor folk scattering. Ah, the good old days.

At least one useful thing came out of it - seeing how each reacted, what their initial go-to was, and how they interacted with or affected the other girls. Those were observations the former Imperatrice took in at a glance, and mentally added to the files she'd created in her mind for each one. Figuratively, of course. She wasn't jacked into anything at the moment.

"What the girls back home would think, I daren't imagine," she said, just loud enough to be heard by some of the less traumatized and more snarky sorts, then continued in a clear voice accustomed to being heard through loud and crowded halls. Her pronunciation was precise, her emphasis on certain words, deliberate, and she met the eyes of any girl who looked her way with a pleasant smile that contained a gentle remonstrance and warning all the same. Like a concerned aunt, perhaps, hoping to avoid unpleasantness.

"Please, gracious ladies, your pardon. You have some of us at a disadvantage, perhaps not understanding what the underlying purpose is. No one is going to force you to play super-soldier, nor disgrace yourselves. We're here to teach, and to hopefully in the end, help you offer a satisfactory result to the Emperor. After all, none of us wish to disappoint the Lord of One Thousand Years, not when he has been so benevolent in allowing this exchange to happen. Surely, such behavior would not be looked on favorably, yes? Let's gather our calm, and discus your concerns, rationally."

Rude would have been to call out who she thought was 'off' in their take on things. This way, the 'blame' was spread, and no one forced to the forefront. Even if it were somewhat obvious. Once again, Dominion politics, but hey - better that than engaging in pointless catfights, no?

[Zepplin Manufacturers]

Megacity One
Earth


Henry Phillips was to the outside world a minor government functionary wearing a somewhat cheap lower meg logo suit that was four seasons out of fashion in a basic cut and display definition like millions of other office workers. He had no particular defining marks, was not visibly well built, of notable bone structure, pleasing symmetry, augmentation or with any visible particulars at all, with the faintly latin look of someone from an urban cultural milieu.

After greeting his neighbours as they too left for work he downed a happy happy foods instant self deep frying breakfast cabbage bar (remember it is not food if not happy!) from his floors concession stand. His navigation out of his hab block was not notable as he passed groups of school children being led in friendly holo logo halos by scutters and parents to the school levels in the blocks atriums.

He did not barge nor did he brake lines as he made his way from the blocks atrium to the local conventional mag-lev transit feeder, through the vast rush hour crowded market beside the city sector transit hub, onto the express vac network, through the two mile high sector wall then to sector ones massive defence walls.

Those walls were only rivaled by the cities endless curtain walls and blast deflection damns a thousand miles away at the city border between metropolitan earth and recovery were a far more notable event to get through. Ever increasing security checks now were visible, the dull visible studds of weapons nodes, Int-Sec, Parashocks and ZMDF personnel replacing M1PD drones and officers that had been merely a background accent elsewhere. Finally on emerging from those walls rather than towering hab blocks and zone structures the quaint old towers and domes of the “old city” could be seen, it's far more human scale evident compared to the automatically constructed and printed levithans of the other sectors.

All these portals and defences he passed through with the wave of his pass when required, the crowd now notably mostly civil service. Routing onto gov line sector transport (that for all its increase in security was just another mag-lev mass transit feeder) underneath the preserved streets of the Old City and the reclaimed docklands, the whole transit line car passing through half a dozen full scanning hoops before entering the hallowed gov sector ground of the Ziggurat itself. Of course rather than the hollowed surface, much less a windowed office in one of the department towers or in the vast mass of the Ziggurat itself his car had instead routed to a station several hundred levels below that.

This station's security was tighter still. Individual spot checks by armed scutters and true drones tied to the facilities SIs were given before he passed through the glittering mass of defence and active scanning fields.

Now as he entered into his section his suit gently swept from exterior logo mimicking to simple Office of Frontier Circumstances grey, his pass clipping to his suit pocket nodding to coworkers and giving the odd greeting.

His office was relatively normal save for the secure terminals and standalone readers separate to the standard gov grade data net interfaces.

Bringing up his important morning circulars and messages (the true insecure ones had already been read and or disposed of while he was en route, there was after all no escape from being always on call) and calendars for a moment before gently throwing back what appeared to be a pair of stim eye drops like any other worker would from his shirt pocket.

They weren't. The office of frontier circumstances had to deal with the sort of thing that could give one true culture shock or worse, the sort of insidious memetic weapons that could literally break a mind, the dissociative pharmacopeia that Philips dosed himself with was not only legal but advised in his job. Aliens could in some cases be truly alien and some of the reports included not just writing but full sensory immersion from agents spotted around the entire galactic disc.

He spent the next few hours reviewing reports that the SIs and field groups had forwarded for action. At a filling of a check box everything from a fleet missile barrage, an Int-Sec hit team or a single misplaced file could be made some beings somewheres reality. This was rare. His job mostly just consisted of approving updating statuses for modeling or requesting more data.

The majority of the OFCs work was not advocating interference (as that did disturb the models and nuke forbid anyone disturb the SI’s precious models) but rather simply keeping an eye outside the Incorporated States tidy little sphere of influence in Alpha Sector. Those poor bastards in the Long Patrol offices now they had to try and actually operate out ..there.

Philips actually blinked as he read the report from Dip-Secs inbox, double checked the roster, ran a few dozen simulations, authored an order, had it peer reviewed by SI, countersigned it after his own supervisor had signed off on it and then sent it for immediate operational dispatch after repeatedly underlining a passage.


Four weeks ago sidereal

New Harad System


In system the planet burned as hellbore fire lanced down like a particularly unpleasant rain, the remains of cities and what they had been converted into by the “occurrence” being not so gently erased by bars of thermonuclear fire.

To the remaining population of Harad IV in there current “state” this was actually a mercy.


ZMSF fleet hospital ship “Scratch once, wipe twice”

The woman presently being held back by two orderlies from a now stuttering medic was bedraggled, a once stunning designer dress partially scorched, notable heavy combat webbing now wrapped around and now stripped of its payload, the filth of long use showing up the less faded sections of it.

“The admiral, ah your husband is out of danger and out of the coma state ..Well he took it straight to the mantle, fourteen inches penetrated here and began to spread, if it weren't for the legacy reinforcement from his high gravity conversion it ah would have penetrated before you managed to tank him, at least ..ah at least six months and I am sorry but there will be recuperation time.”

“Merde! Gession you old fool I told you I had him! But oh no the great warrior had to try and take down a Rahsidi cult war construct with a sword!, old fishbait!, two years of infiltration and we have to burn it all! ”

For all that she cursed she still cried as she stroked the edge of the healing tank, within it Gession stirred not at all, quietly behind her at some point the medic injected a sedative.


“The first thing you learn is that when an office of frontier circumstances agent reveals themselves is it is either a public relations operation or you are so deep in it that you will not see the light for light years.. Now think about marrying one.”



Rudan Prime

The shoulder hugging business suit was neat but a dark umber. Outwardly pure thinefib fibres harvested from Lunas IX, easily worth as much as several dozen air cars on most worlds, inwardly passive but far more. The boots were while healed were not entirely impractical, but still screamed style as the clicked across the floor. The double lidless eye badge on the shoulders that balefully stared outward, the neat sliced lines that marked them as OFC rather than “just” int-sec, the palace passes neatly lined up on one shoulder. The way she moved showed rather more than normal control.

The speech and commotion was audible as she paused. In fact for her it was more than just a tad audible.

She would have almost smiled.

When Marie Del Gession walked in her boots were not audible, she was silent as she observed first before neatly palming a tiny childs toy of a cap before it flashed to light and sound in one corner over the conversations in a short sharp and entirely artificial clap of noise. Her voice, her accent curling around the words like water rolled over.

“Oui oui you will never be strong or as direct in the way of war your soldiers are, it is forbidden to you as much as others would wish it to be otherwise. You can learn part of the trades of war, many are here with experience to teach you that. It may keep you alive some day. You will never be on the front lines until the utter worst end. But your history is full of such no so why not? And there are soldiers ..and there are warriors and the difference in your culture is rather ..clear is it not? I think it better we make you just a bit of a warrior? Maybe that will be poetic and noble enough for you?”

A neat flick of unseen dust from the right cuff.

“But you are nobles yes? But you are female nobles? You have assets. You have minds. Some have even had exquisitely expensive educations, though we will find if you recall any of it. You will learn to use them. Misdirection. Observation. Simulation. Espionage. Diplomacy. Finance. Your voices and your thoughts. You will be your partners shields where they cannot be seen to tread. This you can do. This can increase your value you yourself and others vastly. This I can train you to do to one day carry it to the knife or the dance floor if required.”

Maries smile was utterly cold.

[New Naggoroth]

An exasperated sigh was about all Ellenith could muster as she watched the both the students and now the supposed teachers start to bicker. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really. Women from a dozen clashing cultures were present, and unity was hardly to be expected right off the bat. No, nothing here surprised the elven maiden, though it certainly irked her.

So, deciding to do something about it, she decided that the students would need to be dealt with first. She approached the Rudanese girls who had congregated together and snickered in their own language, a language that they clear seemed to be blissfully unaware that she could speak just as well as they could.

"Lady Jun," Elly admonished as she pinched the young woman's ear in a manner their governess might have done when they were small children, the act done to make sure she had the group's full attention "Just what would your parents say if they heard such words from your lips? They might think you little better then the barbarians you scold!" she pronounced, her one veiled, violet eye glowering at the girls, doing her best to cow the girls into submission. "Now, the lot of you," she spoke louder and sternly, switching back to plain Galach-Standard as she released Jun's ear and instead focused on the entire group of girls milling about, "You are all dismissed. Return to your quarters for the evening. You will be summoned for the evening meal at the appropriate time."

The girls dealt with, it was time to switch gears and wrangle the teachers into some kind of order. There had clearly been precious little communication from the Dragon Throne to these esteemed dignitaries about what was expected of them, and Ellenith found that, too, to be entirely unsurprising. Knowing the Emperor's tastes, she figured that he had planned this, wishing for nothing more then their complete failure to make anything out of these girls. Likely to prove a point to someone. Probably his son. Regardless, her grim, stoic determination set in at that realization, which hopefully showed when Elly eyed up the other five instructors, including the Zepp who hadn't even been bothered to arrive on the proper transport.

"Now, Ladies she practically hissed at the others once the young students were out of earshot, "Lady Nathicana is quite correct in her assessment. Before we continue any further, we must come to an accord about what it is we are doing. A planning session, if you will. In private."

[Camelone]

HKS Faithful Pilgrim
The Limbo Zone
An elderly woman was sleeping on the bridge of her ship content to just rest for a bit, she was not as young and fresh as she used to be and the life of constant war wears the body out. Though her time of peace was shattered when the ship based computer alerted her to a new job.

"Oi! Gabriel! Turn that sound down, give an old woman some shut eye you miserable piece of circuits!" Tryphena spat at the computer while at the same time waking up, she knew she had to answer it. Opening the alert up she smiled, teaching some fresh meat for the grinder, though a little more refined, political meat grinders are still a fun landscape to navigate. "Gabriel send my credentials and set the proper coordinates we need to get in the correct dimension."

Knowing no response would be given Tryphena made her way to the brig, she needed to get some things secured before the jump and to put on her layer one armor, the power armor would be to much for this job but some armor was still needed. 'This should be fun.'

Rudan Prime
Tryphena shuffled her way over to the assembled group, leaning on her halberd heavily, simple and loose clothing hung off her and her cloak covered her head, and the sneer that she had as well. In all honesty she more like a beggar then a highly respected warrior.

'These are the lassies I'm teaching? They are just like what I expected, frantic and weak. I'll have to whip them into shape.' She thought to herself as she brought herself into the view of everyone present.

Tryphena chuckled as she removed her hood from her head revealing her tangled grey hair and battle scarred face "You got a head on your shoulders missy, may have calmed them down enough to move along with these introductions." She whispered as she placed a hand on Marie Del Gession's shoulder.

"Oi you all listen up here, this lady knows what she's talking about so stop being such pansy and sharpen up! Or are the nobility of this land flimsy damsels? Control yourselves, have discipline, and bring honor to your family names, do that here and you will be among the greats of your society. Understood?" Leaning on her halberd she was waiting to see if anyone would listen to here, if they didn't she had some skulls to crack, disrespect the Jolly Butcher and you won't enjoy the outcome.

[Roania]

There was a noise, rather like a muffled explosion. The great metal doors that led to the armory were flung open, releasing billowing smoke. As the smoke cleared, helmeted soldiers in black and yellow filed through the doors to take up positions around the quadrangle. Sieg was the first to react, and he did so by putting his hand to his face and then slowly sinking to the ground, muttering under his breath. The girls, shocked back to silence by their teachers' combined efforts and the start of being under guard observation, soon followed suit.

Not that anything happened, yet. A tabby nmmr, accompanied by a calico, came out carrying a large brass gong. They were followed by a massive hulk of muscle and monster, so large it had to duck through even the massive doors. It wore similar armor to the men, though its helmet did nothing to hide its red face, sharp fangs, and jagged horns. A moment later a second giant appeared, this one blue with a long beard. The two giants settled down, one on each side of the door, and then one of the guards lifted his rifle, sighted, and fired at the gong, causing a loud reverberation. The spent round fell to the earth and vanished in a puff of smoke. Neither tabby nor calico moved a muscle.

The Emperor stepped out of the dark hallway. "You will forgive me, Grand Secretary. I have chosen to remodel my property." He lifted a perfectly manicured hand and snapped his fingers. Behind Him, there was the unmistakable sound of carpentry and woodworking. He said nothing, then, surveying the females enclosed in His ring of steel. "So." He placed His fingers on His short beard and stroked thoughtfully, weighing each of the women in turn. "Cousin." A very slight bow to Ellenith. Roka, the Emperor acknowledged with a small nod of His head, which was probably a surprise in and of itself. She was only a servant of His servant, hardly someone He should take note of. If one thought about that recognition too long, it would probably terrify one. "I look forward to seeing how you will do your mother and fathers proud on this task. You have my full confidence."

Then... "Grand Secretary!" Seig was at His side in a heartbeat, then immediately stepped two paces back, to be at hand if his master called. "Hold my sword." Seig took the blade and held it as distantly and delicately as he could without dropping it. Thus 'disarmed', the Emperor began the far more distasteful work of greeting His guests. Not that His feelings could be read by any but an expert, as the imperial visage was unclouded by anything so barbaric as emotion as fist met palm and head bowed. Seig followed suit immediately, and so did the ogres. Their salute caused a slight shockwave. The guards did likewise, though one of them hesitated for a fatal moment, and was caught in his indecision. The Emperor lifted His head and turned to look directly at his servant. "Do you truly believe that the example of your master is not enough for you to do likewise? Jakoni, take him."

Then a word to the women. "None of you intervene. I see the thought in your eyes. My hand will not be stayed by pleading, nor is there rescue from my command." As He said this, the great red ogre reached out with his hand and lifted the guard up by his head. The man may have been trying to speak, but it was muffled by the helmet and the giant hand. "Let the dog speak."

"F-forgive me, Lord! I simply do not comprehend that we are ordered to honor these... people... as though they were..."

"Enough. What is the first law?"

"Y-you are the first law, Lord."

"I am the first and the last. I choose to honor these..." The Emperor's lips curled, the first sign of emotion in the entire exchange. "I have summoned them here, and they have come at my bidding on a grand experiment. That is courage." That last word was rather spat than said. "Courage such as this deserves its dignity. And so I choose to honor their... courage. All who are my servants shall do the same. They say they are warriors? Well then, let us take them at their word. They do not seem to be playing at it." This was laden with hidden meaning, such that is usually covered with knives. "Do you comprehend, dog?"

"Y-yes, Lord!"

"Jakoni, let him down. Gently. He seems to have learned his lesson." The ogre did as instructed and the unfortunate guard immediately returned to his position and pressed fist to palm with rigor. "But do you think they did, Grand Secretary?"

Seig had barely moved the entire time. He had, in fact, not even looked up. "Perhaps, Lord."

"Ah, thank you for reminding me, Grand Secretary." Though, of course, the kitsuite had done no such thing. Not that it mattered. Let them interpret events as they will. Challenge Him as they will. He looked over the teachers once more. What an... interesting lot. Oh, yes. They would of course fail. That was written in the stars. And yet. And yet. They may very well succeed. For a moment, just a moment, the Emperor smiled. Time to play. "I shall be with you in a moment, honorable teachers, but my loyal subjects need my attention." As opposed to them, of course. Barbarians who had not yet recognized the need to bend the knee. "You may all rise."

And suddenly He was among the girls, for all the world as though he was handing out favors. "Afshan, I shall expect you henceforth to be covered appropriately. This is not your father's hall." The Kaegani girl flushed ever so slightly and covered her chest with her arms. He spoke comfort to the Rudanese girls, a few simple words about how proud their fathers were for their selection, and how he was sure that if they succeeded they would no doubt be even more eligible. Ha and Nae-Min received a solemn injunction not to let their houses' ancient quarrel interfere with the work of Empire. 'Or else' was implied.

Alolilana still seemed on the verge of tears. So she got a very slight squeeze on the shoulders, and the Emperor spoke very loudly and very slowly. "You will be just fine. Do as Marquise Ellenith says," a title he only reminded the druchii of when it was convenient, "and you may even pick up a bit more of the barbarians' tongue. I know that will make Som Sai very happy. So chin up and do your best. That's an order."

Xeiri was next, and the Emperor paused for a moment, looking down at the kitsuite. "Well. Let no one ever say I do not keep my word. Now, I expect you to do the same. Impress me, child. Show me that my heir's chosen wife is worthy of his trust. To do otherwise would be... unfortunate." He picked the word with care, and was thrilled to see the kitsuite's face harden. Good, let her take this seriously.

"Number One Daughter." Now the Lord stopped in front of His eldest child.

"Daddy." She met his gaze evenly and without even a hint of submission.

His lips twitched momentarily. "Do me proud."

"Of course."

Padma... "After you are dismissed, you are to immediately return to your quarters and recover your mask. I will speak to my Grand Secretary to determine what he was thinking. If thought occurred at all." She said nothing, of course. Seig had the grace to look embarrassed.

"As for you." Ah, the problem child. Saved for last. As he approached, Katsi-Una began to tremble. She looked so ridiculously out of place in those robes, and she was repeating some mantra. "Young Miss, when I summoned you I told you what was to be expected, yes?" She squeaked in reply, realizing the bogeyman was both real and right in front of her. "Grand Secretary, my sword." Seig hesitated. "I am not in the habit of repeating myself." The Grand Secretary produced the desired weapon. "I tolerate much, in those who deserve my tolerance, Young Miss. But you have willfully chosen to ignore my command." The tiny girl whimpered, closing her eyes and rocking back and forth on her heels. "Why?"

"I... I... I... I don't want to be a soldier! And I don't want to be here! I'm here because you made me come! And if they make me be a soldier no one will ever want to marry me and I'll have to join the Silent Sisters and and and and... eeek!"

The Emperor had drawn his sword from its black scabbard. It shone brightly even in the pale light as he brought it down swiftly upon her. A moment later, her robes fell to the ground, cut to pieces. Neither her nor her undergarments were harmed. "That is better." As he spoke, he sliced along his palm, wetting his blade with blood, before kicking up one of the tattered fragments and wiping the sword clean. "Hear me, Atsi-Una, and hear me well." He restored the weapon to its scabbard, dropped the bloodied cloth, and clenched his bleeding fist. "I chose you for one reason, and one reason only." What that reason was, though, the others weren't informed. The Emperor bent down and whispered something in her ear. As it continued, her expression changed from terror to shock to embarrassment and finally to confusion. "You do not understand. That is fine." He pointed the scabbard towards the teachers. "Learn from them."

And that was that. He slipped the scabbard back to his side and walked towards the teachers. "Students, you are dismissed. As are you, Grand Secretary. Men, return to your posts." The girls, the soldiers, the bureaucrat... everyone but the Nmmr, the ogres, the Emperor, and the women was gone as fast as their legs could carry them. A moment later, the Emperor smiled. Though it didn't touch his eyes, which remained those of a predatory animal. "Now. I am sure you all have questions. And I am in a mood to answer them. Make use of this chance, it does not come often."

OOC: I'm sorry to take away your freedom of action, but if any of your characters had said or done anything while the Emperor was doing his own thing, this would have very quickly become a very different (and much shorter) RP. The Emperor is not your friend and he suffers neither fools nor argument lightly. I promise that this will not happen again.

[Lady Scylla]

The Scyllan Syndicate
United in Defiance, Divided in Solidarity

---

Rhessa didn't intervene in the commotion as chaos took hold. While the other teachers were keen to get involved; Rhessa stood back, arms crossed, with a very faint grin on her face as she merely observed. This was an opportunity to analyse their weaknesses, their flaws; and having such knowledge meant she could develop training that was catered to each student rather than train them all the same. Of course, she wasn't just analysing the students: the other teachers were of considerable interest.

Unbeknownst to her colleagues, and even the Roani -- Rhessa was little more than an alias. In truth, Scylla was the puppetmaster of this platform -- as she was in so many other interactions in the Syndicate. But her role here seemed unclear if anyone were aware of the AI. One student in particular had her attention -- Xeiri. The upcoming princess of the Roani prince was a potential chess piece in a wider plan. It was her access to the prince that made this venture a necessity, but she still needed to keep up appearances.

When the armoury had come alive, and the doors flew open to reveal a small army of men -- Rhessa, for a moment, assumed this was an exercise. In fact, the sudden occurrence had prompted Lyra (the ship she had arrived in) to reach out. Do you need assistance? Rhessa had her stand-down, Seems we've an Emperor's greeting she replied. Damalin, the Lord of Ten Thousand Years himself, stepped out of the door, and the room became still. As he scolded the students before dismissing them, she eyed the soldier that had hesitated. Damalin's response received a grin from her, the first time she had a genuine one at that.

"My lord, you've asked us to train these women -- but I must ask if death is permitted," she inquired to Damalin, taking the opportunity. "It's imperative for me to know, as some of my training might result in irreversible harm, or even fatalities. Should it not be, then I'll need to adjust some of my training to avoid that outcome." Well, at least she could be the first to drop a bombshell on the Emperor.

[Roania]

The Emperor laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Behind him, the two immense ogres also began to laugh, as though someone was repeatedly hitting a set of huge drums. Even the Nmmr got into it, shaking with their amused purring. Then the Emperor stopped laughing and so did everyone else. Immediately. "A joke! An amusing one, at that. Were you serious, which of course you were not, I would say that for every one of these girls killed, I would slaughter five million of your people. Each. But you are not serious. So that will not arise." The Emperor lowered his voice, and tapped his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I have taken them from their homes and brought them here, on my responsibility and under my name and power. They are, each of them, under my protection. Which means they are under your protection. As are you all. Each of you. Responsible for the next. Let that be your soldiering, if you must have it."

"You may shout. You may scold. You may even, if you truly feel it necessary, strike." Though that last word drew a bit of a scowl from the Emperor. "Even my daughter, should you truly see fit. I am tempted, at times." He shook his head to clear it. "But I expect them to be treated with respect. These are not boys or men. Nor are they like you. I desire to see if they may learn to defend themselves as is appropriate with their station, and without ruining them for marriage. My future daughter wishes to learn all you have to teach, and I permit this. Should any others choose to join her in this mad quest, I permit that as well. But under no circumstances is any permanent harm to come to them. I will not ask if I was clear, as I do not think any of you are fools. Do not give me cause to think otherwise."

[CoraSpia]

b]Sarina[/b]

It was like the scene by the transport for Sarina, as she was showing such a look of fixed indifference on her face that she was sure that anyone who really cared would be able to tell she was faking it. In truth, her emotiions wereraging; her contempt for this barbaric 'emperor' and his show of over-inflated machismo was driving her mental, so much so that she would give anything not to have to talk to him. However, she had a job to do: teach these girls to fight, and this was a job that would be seriously disadvantaged if she was to do away with the Emperor's head.

She stepped forward, as calm and cerene-looking as ever, to ask her question. The truth really was tht the last answer had unnerved her; she didn't much care if the Emperor (or any of these barbarians) liked her, but she was interested in doing this job well; it was necisary that the cyborg new everything their was to know about what was expected of her.
"You state that these are not boys or men," she said softly, "And part of me wonders where a difference lies. The act of making war is something that cannot be beautified; it is harsh and cruel. Likewise, though I am always inclined to leniency I understand that I can only act in such a way should it be diserved...it would not do to disadvantage these girls training with undue softness. Therefore, I must ask if you have any special requests in how I and my coleagues are to teach these girls, as otherwise I shall be faced with no optin but to proceed as if I were teaching any other people."

[Lady Scylla]

The Scyllan Syndicate
United in Defiance, Divided in Solidarity

---

When Damalin had finished speaking, Rhessa stared at him, hoping he'd look back into her amber eyes. "I don't do jokes, and I take this very seriously. Some training in the Syndicate often results in the death of their participants. Regardless if they're noble birth or not. Dying during such is an expected possibility, and an honour under normal circumstances. Those that survive become a part of the Elite Guard for the Chancellery. Understandably, we have different customs -- which is why I asked. Where I'm from, most know how to fight -- it's the only way you're going to survive," she said.

"They will always be treated with respect -- they are still prestigious in most cases, and deserving of some civility regardless. So I've no intention of 'dehumanizing' them -- you've my blood on that," she added. It was the Scyllan way of having a promise -- except the breaking of it meant death. A custom possibly foreign to many here, but Rhessa was from the 'Bleeding Frontier' -- a region of space filled with nothing but pirates, mercenaries, and all sorts of the downtrodden criminals one could expect in a lawless void. It had rightfully earned that moniker for good reason.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

It just got better and better, didn't it? For a moment, Nathi was reminded of past situations and occasions she'd been involved in, where a number of alpha types had been tossed together for one reason or other, with the expectation that they would all get along and move in a consistent direction.

Mmmhmm. Like that ever happened.

She did well to cover her somewhat dark amusement at the overall ridiculousness of this first meet and greet. Of course, it could have been worse, she had to admit ...

And then, of course, it worsened.

Elly probably could have realistically expected that the girls would follow her instructions, given her relative position to the rest of them, had the Emperor not made his suitably grand entrance. Nathicana did not view this as a 'good thing', all things considered. And her first reaction was to freeze, take quick note of everything from body language, subtle as it was, to those of the guards, ogres, nmmr, et all.

This was to a purpose not just some random show of force or authority. She had enough experience to know that much. Each movement, each gesture, each word was weighed, measured, and judged. No doubt, they had all been likewise premeditated or planned, to whatever degree they could. A note was made to go over the place as carefully as she could, looking for hidden surveillance measures. She didn't mind being watched, but sometimes it was useful to know one's angles in relation to them, to offer the view one intended.

One thing quite nearly pained her about it all, and it was the one thing she had known would do just that. The deference shown to the Emperor, how much, to what degree, and with how much honesty she could offer it. Nathicana had never been one to bow and scrape, neither had she demanded it unless there was a point to be made, or lesson to be taught. Her knees remained stubbornly locked, in spite of her good intentions. She settled for a slow, graceful bow of her head and shoulders that gradually lowered to a partial bend of the waist. More than she had ever offered any other leader in close memory, less than was probably proper in Roanian minds, but as good as it was going to get without her choking on her own ego. Pretense of piety, humility, and other like graces could only go so far. While her respect for Damalin as a leader in his own right, and her place as a guest was genuine, old habits died hard. And pride, well ... pride was one of those sins she would likely never consciously repent of.

The greeting was made, and one sculpted brow arched up ever so slightly at how the rest quickly followed suit - save the one. Something felt 'off' about it, and as the scene played through, Nathicana quietly congratulated the Emperor's choices. Subtlety that a Dominion native could appreciate. So change in leadership truly had been more than just down the familial line. She kept her observations to herself, of course.

She made not so much as a twitch in the direction of the guard or Damalin, her face a carefully maintained mask of neutrality throughout the exchange, and she kept that same expression throughout the remainder of the resulting discussions. The fact that overall, she rather approved of how the young man handled it all as well remained unspoken - this was not the time, nor place for such things, nor was it any of his concern whether or not he had the approval of any of them. As it should be, really.

He walked along a fine balance of not overly offending his guests, and of not overly offending the sensibilities of his people, while making it clear that this was something he wanted, or rather expected, and thus, it would go forward with no more discussion on the matter to be had, at least without some rather unpleasant consequences. An excellent show of power, control, mercy even, a love and understanding of his people, so far as that went. At least, in spite of her being unable to understand many of the things said, his actions appeared to be interpreted that way. The sun and moon, the center around which their universe spun, the unquestioned ruler, the alpha and omega.

Gods she missed some of that. Was it wrong to feel a flush of envy at the levels to which this young pup had achieved all of that? Regardless of the fact that such levels were not something she'd worked for, but damned if there wasn't some intrinsic appeal.

So. 'Broad interpretation' from Greizon, more pointed instructions from the Emperor. Unsurprising, considering the sources. She continued filing away the little details about each of the girls, their reactions to the Emperor, his outward actions towards them, trying to fit them all into the larger picture of where each fit, how each related to the others, and to him, and the grander scheme of things.

Nathicana didn't even blink when Damalin called for his sword, though her appreciation for his control of it garnered a subtle raise of both brows. Far too many considered that an archaic, useless art these days. And he clearly took it seriously, having properly drawn blood before sheathing it again.

As they all scampered to meet his commands, Nathi kept her place, allowing the hint of a smile to touch the corners of her lips. Very well done, that. And then of course, one of the visiting teachers just had to go and poke the dragon.

And miss the subtleties implied in his answer, no less. Gods above and below, did no one understand how these things worked? He gave Rhessa an out, and she blew right past it. Maintaining her neutral stance, Nathi refused to let the long-suffering sigh of one who was surrounded by amateurs well up and out.

Sarina as well? Surely she couldn't be so ignorant as all that. No difference? Could not be beautified? Once more, Nathicana was forced to keep her gut reactions and biting wit to herself, and her opinions clear of her face or body language. Again, it was not the time for it.

"If it pleases your imperial majesty," she finally said, once more offering the respectful-as-she-could-swallow bow.

"Perhaps some of my associates here are not familiar with the intricacies of royalty, families of culture and rank, and the expectations that go along with them. With some discussion, I am certain that we come to an accord on what our own strengths are, on those intricacies of rank and breeding so unfamiliar to some, and on the end goal of instructing the young women you have chosen to a satisfactory end."

"While it isn't necessary, one can create beauty from violence, can remain a lady while defending oneself or one's wards, and very much can engage in the art of killing without feeling the need to do so in a manly fashion, or prove something to males in their arenas," she stated firmly, her chin coming up ever so slightly in that stubborn unspoken challenge that was second nature to her.

"Any who doubt it clearly haven't had the opportunity to learn the proper subtleties. I am confident we can succeed here, given time."

Well, perhaps she hadn't kept all of the bite out of it, but she did try to be as pleasant and agreeable on it all as she could manage. How her words would be taken by the other women was anyone's guess, but then, they had only been secondary in her intended targets. Them, she could talk to more plainly once their host had been reassured that things would proceed in a more reasonable fashion. That is, so long as the lot of them didn't up and lose their shit as soon as the doors were closed, resorting to cattiness and undermining anyway. Time would tell.

[Roania]

"Then if you were serious, Captain, so was I." The bonhomie snapped like a too-tight string. "It is good that you offer your blood freely. I will remember that should the time come I need it." What was, perhaps, most chilling was that the Emperor did not change his tone of voice or his expression. He may as well have been discussing the weather. Immediately he went into his answer. "You ask an interesting question. The answer is no. I do not seek elite warriors from this. My goal has been stated. Should one of the children choose such a path, then you may discuss her further training with her father and her. I will not stand in your way. The basics, Captain. I expect you to stick to the basics. You are not in your unfortunate home. This is civilization. My subjects have protectors. Let us see if their numbers will increase after this."

"As to you. 'Corporal'. I do not understand what led you to the conclusion you have chosen to reach." The Emperor spoke briefly to Sarina. "I suggest you reevaluate your objectives along the lines your client asked for. I do not seek soldiers. I have them in abundance. As to the difference between men and women... you do seem bright enough. I suggest that upon some thought, you will doubtless grasp it. Enough. I leave the question of tutoring to you and your fellows. It is a small man who has the time to explain their work to his employees. I have given you all the direction you should need. Pray to your Gods I need give you no more."

That left Nathicana. With a thin smile, the Emperor of the Galaxy placed his right hand over his heart and bowed slightly. At the waist, in the western style. "All welcome to you, Dread Lady. You do my residence a great honor. I am sure that under your careful guidance both your colleagues and your pupils will astound me. Indeed, I am pleased to hear you feel the same! I will leave you to it." Another bow. "Are there any other questions, from any of the rest of you?"

[Xirnium]

Like Nathicana, Ilona’s patience had been tried by some of these amateurs come to play the drill instructor. At first she had mistaken the newest, an ancient, bent and wizened old crone, who had not even bothered to introduce herself, for a washerwoman or scullery maid. (Perhaps the crone would have been better suited to one of these positions.)

‘Your name, Marm?’ Ilona asked the crone. Ilona’s voice was friendly enough, though sardonic. Her eyes were clear and bright and full of that secret amusement either denoting superior intelligence or habitual short-sightedness.

Then the Emperor himself entered. Ilona was so startled by his entrance, she barely remembered her good manners in time to click her heels together.

The first few questions the women asked him were vain and foolish and could only have eroded the Emperor’s already shallow confidence in his instructors. Ilona’s fear was that he would suspend the entire enterprise, and that not long after that her creditors would begin again to scuttle in circles about her hall like hyenas. (She had yet to meet a banker impressed by a flash of steel.) She breathed slowly and looked hard at her steel gauntlet and vambrace, plucked at her fencing tunic’s frogging, put the heel of her jack-leather boot in the sawdust and ground it as if crushing vermin. Her face was pale and set in harsh lines.

‘Are your Majesty’s construction works likely to last long?’ the baronetess of Nauzâraug eventually asked, ignoring the recent babble about killing students. Her thin, well-formed lips curved in the suggestion of a smile and her piercing grey eyes gained a veiled, deceptively amiable expression.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana met the emperor's second bow with another, intended to convey that no, of course, the honor was hers, etc etc etc. The political dance of platitudes and compliments, of subtle nuances and body language, was second nature to her. And she was certain it was to him as well.

Excellent.

Of course in speaking up and making those reassurances, she had placed a great amount of the responsibility squarely on her shoulders, which part of his response confirmed. Such was the risk. But then, she had hoped this would be a challenge, something she could lose herself in for at least a little while, focusing her efforts on others rather than herself. And of course, she had no intention of failing. One way or another, these girls would succeed, to the extent of their abilities, limited as some might be.

She said nothing more, quietly withdrawing to let the others speak, nor not, as suited them, already turning over potential plans in her head to discuss with the other teachers at the earliest possible time. Of course, was with Ilona, she hoped the construction wouldn't go on interminably. One needed some sleep at some point, after all.

[Camelone]

"Tryphena Nevin, hedge knight of 52 years, though those who have heard of me are more familiar with the titles the Bloody-axe or the Jolly Butcher." Tryphena replied cheerfully as she stared back at Ilona, though her eyes carried a second feeling behind her original friendliness, she thought her weak and arrogant. "You best remember to fear and respect the elderly when they come from my line of work and life."

When the Emperor made his entrance Tryphena silently watched and quickly learned that it would be in her best interest to now piss off the Emperor when he had those ogres around, she didn't quiet appreciate getting carried around even if the thing ended up dead in the end. Though she didn't make much of a show that she paid that much attention to him.

"Thank you for your hospitality your Majesty and this old warrior appreciates your confidence, even if it be little. I will make sure to instill in these ladies discipline and a healthy respect for superiors and the ancestors, and of course the skills of a warrior. I will also personally make sure that my equals will give no lasting harm or death upon these ladies, and if they do step over that line I'll make sure they're delivered in front of you somewhat alive." Even though Tryphena was a hard teacher, and to some a cold hearted killer, she had her line like not killing her students or the innocent, doesn't mean she won't scare them about dying by her own hand though.

[Lady Scylla]

The Scyllan Syndicate
United in Defiance, Divided in Solidarity

---

Rhessa nodded, even going so far as to give the Emperor a bow finally. "You hired my services," she responded, and then fell in line with the other teachers. She wouldn't further press him, not at the moment. Instead, she drove her attention at the other teachers, but beyond that, she had started to passively catalogue data about the Emperor: his facial features, muscle markers, body-type, respiration if any, and cardiac if any. These biological markers helped her to recognise individuals -- but unlike her organic colleagues -- the process always had to be more deliberate.

She cross-analysed the data she collected with her library, though no positives came up. The Emperor would be an entirely new entry then. An unknown variable requiring further and extensive observation -- but already, she could start filling in a few blanks based off of her assessment so far. Roania had also received a new entry -- there were many things about this civilisation that Scylla had not seen before. Her data-bank was already expanding so rapidly with an explosion of inquiries! So many unknowns, so many speculations. It excited her circuits both in Rhessa, but also in the Syndicate. Of course, Rhessa remained still and as deadpan as always -- but the platform's server was running at an amazingly fast pace. Had Scylla's systems been more rudimentary, the unit would have probably melted or exploded by now.

The exchange between Nathicana -- this 'Dread Lady' -- and the Emperor was not lost on Rhessa either. Lovers? Unlikely. Ex-lovers? Very Unlikely. There was, regardless, familiarity there that was not afforded to anyone else it seemed. It puzzled Rhessa. Even still, the whole commotion from the armoury could have been a charade. She'd do it -- so clearly others could have the same inclination. In fact, she had done a similar ruse to the Sunseti just hours ago at a trade meeting. The Emperor was, in fact, quite clever then. Even still, she was drawing blanks with Nathicana and his exchange -- but given her earlier assessment, pressing the woman for details seemed unlikely to be fruitful. This would require more careful observation.

***

Lyra had been sitting at the docks doing little more than browsing. She was a ship AI that had been repaired by Scylla a few centuries ago, and then given access to some of Scylla's network. This autonomy allowed Scylla to focus elsewhere, and perhaps gave her someone to talk to. At least, that's what Lyra had speculated but wouldn't dare ask. Even still, she kept her passive systems on while browsing an image site and laughing -- whatever analogous form that was for a computer -- at pictures of fluffy cats. On occasion, she would receive a ping from Rhessa and then would respond in kind. It was a very simple measure, just a few packets, and hopefully not enough to warrant suspicion.

[Roania]

The Emperor paused before answering the Baronetess' question and glanced to the now open door. He raised his voice. "It pleases me to be sure that the task of constructing a suitable doorway will not take more than another hour." There was now a different pause within the armory, and then the work began anew. Except much, much faster.

The elderly Tryphena received a glance, then another glance. "Indeed? Then I appreciate your offer, and accept your services. Though I am sure that none of your colleagues will be so... bold as to disobey my instructions. People rarely are." Left unsaid was that people who do, almost never receive a chance to do so again. He gave the elderly woman a slight bow, as befits a junior of higher rank addressing a senior of lower rank.

Marie Gession also received a glance. She was an old hand here, apparently, and so had resources for contacting his agents (and perhaps even him) that the others lacked. No, there would be no trouble from her. Very well, now it was time to say his final piece. "I am appropriately thankful for your time and your efforts on my behalf. In exchange, I will bestow upon each of you my favor. Worlds are turned by such things, so I suggest you start thinking now as to what you would ask of me." He looked at all of them with the same steely gaze. "Now, your first instructions. It would seem the majority of your pupils have no idea what to wear for such training. You will remedy that and then provide my servants with a list of necessary garments for each girl. That is all. Dismissed to your duties."

The ogres advanced to his side. They towered over the Emperor and the woman alike. As he stepped back, they stepped in front, leaning on their fists like massive, heavily armored, predatory gorillas. Then they all turned, following the Emperor back to the door. The Nmmr struck the gong and vanished. Soon, so did the Emperor and his guards.

[Xirnium]

Ilona’s smile broadened toothily while the crone listed her many fine styles, but there was nothing friendly in that smile. She bared her teeth to her canines, like a wolf anticipating a hen’s throat.

Neither did the baronetess miss the threat implicit in the crone’s warning. She simply cocked her head to one side and tapped the pommel of her basket-hilted broadsword with her ring-finger — once, twice, a third time. Her meaning was obvious. If the crone had taken any offence, she was more than welcome to seek her Satisfaction, later after they had concluded their business here.

[New Naggoroth]

An audible sigh escaped the young Marquise Ellenith Drakharn as her Imperial cousin finally took his leave. She wasn't exactly sure how Damalin's arrival and "briefing" was going to play out, as he hadn't mentioned that he'd be along not far behind her. Still, it seemed to have worked out, for the time being. The girls were back in their bunks likely arguing about having to share rooms, while the teachers would soon quite likely be doing the same with regards to lesson plans.

"They've all at least still got their heads, mistress," Roka said rather cheerfully, speaking to Elly in her native druhir. "I figured the Emperor would remove at least one to set an example. That fool Sarina, probably."

"It's still early. I wouldn't be surprised if half of them couldn't see what actually happened there," the elven noble replied, her eye squeezed shut as she rubbed her forehead, feeling the beginning of another headache coming on. "At least lady Nathicana has her head on straight. We can let her do whatever she wants without concern she's going to get herself killed."

"Which reminds me, mistress, are you going to do anything about that disgusting synthetic there?" Roka chirped with alarming glee as her golden eyes briefly alighted on Rhessa, a tone Elly recognized as one that usually preceded an exceptionally violent outburst from her subordinate.

"No. Just leave it be," another sigh, and more throbbing in her head, "I mean, keep an eye on it, but don't actually do or say anything. Especially without asking me first. Now, go prepare our room."

This damn 'angel' is a too bloody-minded for her own good,' was a sudden thought that came unbidden into Elly's mind. Perhaps something she'd need to address at some point, but she had enough of a headache already.

"Oh fine," the rokashira guardian spirit pouted, before sullenly stalking off to the wing of the barracks assigned to the teachers.

"I trust that the rest of you will bring your questions about local customs and expectations to me," Elly said softly in Galach-Standard, though her voice carried rather easily to the ears of all assembled. A useful little trick she'd learned. "That is, assuming you all wish to return home in the same condition you arrived in. This is a dangerous place you've come to, have no illusions. If you aren't careful, you can and will be sent home at least one head shorter..."

[Lady Scylla]

The Scyllan Syndicate
United in Defiance, Divided in Solidarity

---

Rhessa listened to the pace of the construction in the armoury pick up significantly. Would she see engineer heads on some spikes? As the Emperor gave his leave, and the rest of the entourage followed in suit; she was now alone with the other teachers. They were an assorted lot of pieces that were as different from another as could be. Cohesion among them was going to be a task, she assumed. Ellenith was to first to speak, or at least in a manner understandable.

"I always expect to die when I take a job -- this is no different," she commented, taking a glance at the others. "I'd suggest loose clothing that's breathable. Their hair needs to be short or tied, and nothing hanging such as jewellery, straps, or strings. That should do for basic hand-to-hand, but if we're going to go so far as utilise the armoury, then proper protection should be imperative. But at least we'll have a basic outfit to work with," she said.

It didn't come off as a request, or open to discussion -- which she didn't mean it to be, but she stated it for the record at least. If one of them got hurt and the Emperor was out for a head, it wasn't going to be hers. She made a note to say it loud and clear enough so they all could hear her as well. "You lot can bicker amongst yourselves now. I'm going for a nap," she said, and headed for the side of the room. She slid to the floor, and leaned against the wall before shutting her eyes. She didn't need to sleep, but it was still relaxing -- and would hopefully give her some quiet.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana kept her position while the rest of the scene played out, keeping her thoughts quite firmly to herself for the moment, waiting until the emperor and his entourage had well and truly left before making any move.

There was a decided disconnect on the part of some here, she was certain. And if that little surprise visit hadn't changed any minds, well ... that too would be entertaining, she supposed.

She had her own ideas on how things ought to progress, unsurprisingly. Whether or not the others would agree remained to be seen as well. She was prepared for whatever negotiation was required, that wasn't a concern. Negotiating, she could do in her sleep. And this was not quite on the scale of galactic demolition or such things, so all in all, she was confident. Even if these were Roanians they were dealing with, and with an emperor who was quite aware of his station, his power, and had no problem using it as needed. Now if that didn't outright terrify some, she didn't know what would, given recent history - which she reminded herself, would needs be left unspoken.

The matter of 'favor' did, admittedly cross her mind a time or two, but perhaps not in the way some might think. She tucked the thought away for further consideration, along with the notes on students, teachers, situation, et all, and walked over to sit on the nearest stairs, stretching slowly as Elly made her position known. Nathi gave her a nod, then settled back with her elbows on the stairs just behind her, and feet extended and crossed at the ankles.

Rhessa's suggestions weren't out of order really, so Nathi just let those pass as the woman seemed to speak her piece and promptly write them off for the moment. Fair enough.

"Well then, that was ... exciting!" she began cheerfully, her ankles occasionally rocking slowly, almost like a cat gently lashing its tail in a lazy sort of way.

As was natural with her people, even though she kept her elbows resting on the stairs, working as a prop, her hands often moved and gestured, accentuating her words.

"Poor dears. We should probably acknowledge that they have no idea what in the devil half of us are even talking about, and ease them in while finding out where their strengths are, yes? Not everyone is cut out of the same cloth, after all. It would be foolish to try and make combat boots out of fine silk, though you can make serviceable armor from it."

"Let's not ask anything untowards of them - the hair? Please, some of us have been fighting with long hair for longer than these children have been alive and then some. I for one would have no problem teaching them how to not only braid or fix their hair to avoid it being a pitfall, but more importantly, learn how to adjust it on the fly. One can't always go about combat-ready, especially not in their positions. And as has been pointed out, we are not training soldiers here. We are teaching them how to defend themselves. Giving them tools they may not have had available to them as yet. Finding their spines, and shoring them up - not looking to beat them down, and remold them into something entirely new," she observed, looking between the various women with the same friendly-looking smile.

"My suggestion is that we start small, start simply. Ask that they wear something comfortable that they can easily move in, and go from there. Allow them to be themselves, as it is themselves they will have to remain - only more skilled, smarter, perhaps. Braver? Maybe. Time will tell, no?" A semi-shrug and smile.

"Stretching, breathing, finding one's center. Asking them about themselves, letting them get to know us. At least for a start. Then we can move towards more martial things. There is always Tai Chi, basic katas, similar exercises from your own cultures, whatever might work. At least, those are my thoughts. Ladies?"

Nathicana arched one sculpted brow up, turning the topic over to the others, ignoring the frantic noise of the workers in the background as if it didn't exist. One hour, after all, was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

[Xirnium]

Ilona was baffled by the Scyllan captain. First she declared that she would stake her life on this assignment. (Bluster and bravado? Madness?) Then she went to sleep in the corner of the hall. (Some calculated insult?)

Mercifully, the Dread Lady was a little more level-headed. ‘All sensible suggestions, madam.

‘To practice fencing safely, the girls must wear adequate personal protective equipment, say tough cotton and ballistic nylon which resists puncture. A helmet, like this quadrille wire-mesh fencing mask which has a bib to protect the neck, and gauntlets for improved grip and to prevent blades from goingup the sleeve and causing injury, will also be required.

‘For hand-to-hand combat, like boxing or wrestling, I would prefer a padded helmet which covers the cheek, to prevent contact with the face, and with guards to protect the ears from damage. The girls should also wear hand wraps and sparring gloves.

‘I have brought much of this equipment, if it’s not otherwise obtainable.

‘I do not have the more basic sportswear. It does not appear that any of the girls owns or has ever worn a sports bra. No matter, we will make do. Let them dress in whatever is comfortable and functional.’

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

"Comfortable and functional, yes," Nathi agreed. "And at least at first, what they feel able to work with, so long as it isn't a safety issue. We can always expand on that as they learn, and if nothing else, we do have access to Dominion sporting gear locally. Barring that, I would be happy to make whatever arrangements are necessary to get the necessary equipment or clothing, with some notice. Being well-connected occasionally has its benefits."

"I am more than content to leave anyone's specialty area up to them. Admittedly, my styles are often not as refined as many, save in swordsmanship. But a rapier is something I've no experience with. And I'm not about to engage in live steel with any of these children," she clarified, hoping to smooth over at least a few potentially ruffled feathers.

Nathicana stretched slowly, then got to her feet with surprising fluidity for one who was supposedly her age. "With some work, and planning on our parts, we should be well able to achieve some rather impressive things here. No, we aren't here to create super soldiers out of courtly ladies by any stretch, but all of us know well enough what a woman is capable of when given the opportunity. Let's offer what we can, and see what these young women do with that, yes?"

The smile she offered the others held no hidden threats, but there did seem to be a light of excitement there, as if she were looking forward to the challenge of it all.

[Lady Scylla]

The Scyllan Syndicate
United in Defiance, Divided in Solidarity

---

Rhessa had closed her eyes by now while the others conversed. Even as things seemed to settle, she could feel the tension in the room -- her sensors had no idea what to make of such a phenomenon. Unlike her more human companions, she wasn't left in darkness when nearing slumber. She saw data, screens and lights. Lyra had taken the time to patch in more directly and was sorting some things for Rhessa to look over. 'Uplink has been established, Chancellor.'

'Thanks, Lyra. How have your scans been? Find anything?'

'The Roani, or, in Galach, the Roanians, are an advanced civilisation and a very old one at that. They are one of the more renowned empires, particularly within this side of the Galaxy. Since their conquests have become a distant memory -- they're like a Sleeping Giant. They have remained unknown to us these past few centuries, thanks largely to our isolation. The Archivist has classified them as a 'Stagnant but Stable'. Their traditionalist and orderly ideals are in conflict with our own -- and their expanse and military, despite the stagnation, are well supplied, and very well armed. The Archivist believes them to be one of the strongest Empires currently known. Provoking the Roani into a conflict is not currently recommended. Further analysis is required for more data, however.'

'Well, I had no intention of provoking them. Good work, Lyra. I need to patch in now, so you know what that means.'

'Yes, ma'am -- disconnecting now.'


Serenity, Kyrie System
Heart of the Scyllan Syndicate

The Chancellor opened her eyes, and was greeted by the wooden ceiling above her. It had a lovely glaze over the wood, and had weathered well these past few centuries. She turned over in the couch and stared at her large desk that spanned across the window. She sat up and gave a long stretch with a mild yawn, taking the moment to address her heels before finally standing up. She approached and looked out the window at the bustling city. The city she built. Psyche, the planet their moon orbited, was just now cresting the horizon -- it would be shadeday in a few hours.

"Tianna," the Chancellor said, activating her comms on the desk. She wasn't big on letting people conduct business through their heads -- too much noise. No-one would ever get any sleep.

After a few moments a voice piped up, "Yes, Ma'am?" It was Tianna's in her usual cheeriness. Even if it were unsettling most days.

"Assemble the chambers," she said, looking towards the door.

"Yes, ma'am."

The Chancellor spent no time getting what she needed and was soon out that very same door she had looked at. Exiting her office was the wide open space of the titanic vaulted glass ceiling that dwarfed the building within. Of course, with her orders, the place had become packed. Chambermen were moving back and forth in a hurry, papers were being dropped and flying about as the chatter echoed in the halls. Of course, they all would stop as the slim woman with amber eyes in her qipao would pass them by. It was less the looks of lust, or attraction, but those of fear and respect that swallowed them in her wake.

She stopped at a large iron door staffed by two guards in full nanocomposite armour. They immediately shouldered their rifles, going through the whole procedure per tradition, and opening the door. By then the crowd had gathered behind her in complete silence as she waited. When it had opened, she stepped inside revealing the chambers of the Chancellery. The room was two stories tall with red stones ordained with gold trim. The half circle room composed of seats surrounded a stage and podium -- and behind that podium were a series of chairs on platforms with the middle being the highest.

As her footsteps echoed off the walls, the crowd slowly flooded in behind her. They took their seats, remaining silent or at a whisper as the Chancellor took her spot at the podium. The guards closed the large iron doors with the locks making a thundering crack. The Chancellor was so patient to being uncomfortable for everyone else who were getting sorted but then eventually started to feel like they were wasting someone's time. Undoubtedly their own.

"The floor shall be given to Madame Chancellor Eirlys Rhaelark," a small man said, no taller than the surrounding seats. In fact, it was perhaps surprising how such a loud and booming voice could come from a man so small.

"I've summoned the Chancellery to chambers today for a simple announcement. As I understand it, the Directorates have made well on their tasks and so we're now ahead of schedule. It is time for war, I trust you'll all not disappoint me -- and I'm certain that while this unfortunate shift in our policy has left some unsettled, it is time to take that necessary step and establish ourselves. Your orders have already been dispatched. Dismissed," the Chancellor said, and with that, the chambers were empty in a matter of moments.


The Radiant Empire

'Welcome back, Chancellor' Lyra greeted.

'Thanks, alright, let's deal with this,' Rhessa replied.

The Captain opened her eyes and looked around, she slid to her feet and brushed herself off. "They at least need to tie their hair up then, and know how to do so quickly," she said, taking the initiative in trying to compromise somewhere with the 'Dread Lady'. She looked at Ilona, giving her a good and long look over.

"How d'you expect 'fencing' to be of any use?" she asked, and then continued, "Fighting pretty is nice and all, but I doubt many of these girls will have a sword. Adaptive training would do them better. Figuring out what can be used as a weapon, and doing so. If you train them how to use that stuff all the while, then they're going to be complete trash in a real scrap and just be laughed at."

"And let's not get too overly aggressive with the protective gear. If we're training them to defend themselves, they need to understand what pain feels like," she added, letting that sit with her colleagues. "Endurance, and being smart is what keeps you from getting killed. Brute strength is for the grunts, and dancing is for the pansies. And perhaps the most important thing these girls should learn beyond endurance and smarts, is knowing when to avoid or run away from a fight."

[CoraSpia]

Sarina tretched out her slim, lythe body. She'd found a wall and had practicly glued herself to it, her eyes looking around, censors taking in facial expressions, the auditory censors in her ears taking in the subtle signs in the voices of her companions. This was not going to be easy, the cyborg knew: people were far too concerned with upsetting this particular tyrant to risk hurting the women he protected: not children, for in the cyborg's mind no such distinction existed. She must state her piece, although she knew it would probably not be welcomed she'd always been taught that everyone from general to private must be given the opurtunity to be heard productively, and after all she was supposed to be their equal.

"I believe we are acting far too softly in our approach," she told them in her soft, always-friendly voice. "Though we are not preparing these women...they are not children...to fight as soldiers, we are preparing them to defend themselves. When somebody rushes one of my students intending to take advantage of her, I would expect him to be in hospital as fast as the medical services can get him their; the ordinary man should stand no chance against one of them. Therefore it will not do to overly cushion them in a protective bubble that will have no baring on the real world. Although, of course my day-job is the freeing of the people from despotic tyranies and the execution of the tyrants themselves," she spoke this as if it was a completely natural sentence "I don't expect these women to be able to accomplish that. However, a few bumps and scrapes during combat training will only harden them to perform better than their fellows: of course I am not suggesting we act like muscle-clad drill sergeants and deliberately hurt them, but we should not wrap them in bubble-wrap either."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

The only initial indication that Nathicana was mildly irritated was the slight raising of one sculpted brow as her attention turned to Rhessa. While her own education had not included some of the arts, she wasn't so quick to dismiss them out of hand.

"Perhaps you are unaware of the additional benefits that come from learning various styles of fighting, self-defense, and other such physical endeavors," she began, her tone shifting from the more amicable conversational to one more suited to somewhat-patient instruction. Her hand gestures were smooth and gentle, in keeping with that.

"There are matters of balance, of toning various muscle groups, of at the very least, exercising and expanding the mind with new knowledge. We've no idea what any of these girls are truly capable of as yet, nor where their strengths might lay. No sword, you say? But if using the forms, one could reasonably expect to utilize other common items at hand to protect themselves or those with them. We have to think outside our own experiences here, ladies. This is not our country, not our people, and not our traditions. We will need to adapt."

The former Imperatrice chose to pass over the latter part for now. Which of course lead her to Sarina. Had she her sister-in-mind's capabilities, perhaps the cool blue of her eyes might have shifted to a slightly warmer hue.

"Ah, but they are children in relation to a great deal we're proposing to thrust on them," she countered, her voice cooler than it had been previously, her gestures mirroring the shift. These are not your usual students, so your prior expectations have little ground here. That stands for all of us," she continued, her gaze taking in the group as she spoke. "As I've mentioned, this entire endeavor is something new. And unless you happen to have been both blind and deaf during our host's visit, we are walking on very delicate ground here. You may all be well-versed in your various styles, and be quite capable opponents on the field, I would respectfully suggest that most, with few exceptions, are a match in diplomacy for what we are up against here."

Nathi nodded to Elly in particular. "As the gracious Lady has suggested, she should be your guide in behavior here, in societal norms, in how to deal with the various issues that will doubtlessly come up in our interactions with the young women here, and how best to approach them initially. We are here to toss ideas together, yes. But in some things, I strongly advocate heeding her recommendations."

A pause, to let her words sink in. "As for this continued theme of violence and pain that some seem hung up on," the diminutive woman said, her tone sharpening and volume raising just enough for the difference to be noted. "Allow me to get to the point here. Are some of you fucking mad? Has everything you've been told not sunk through and been allowed to percolate properly? This is not about violence. This is not about making them 'tough enough'. This isn't even about performance. This is a setup to fail, and your insistence on keeping to your norms falls right in line with accomplishing that."

Nathicana's chin tilted up slightly in that imperious expression those who knew her understood all too well, and what trouble it generally precluded. "I can't speak for the rest of you, but I do not intend to fail. Not elsewhere, and not here. You can take your freedom-fighting, hard-knocks, rip-em-down-to-build-em-up, goddamn machismo-laden notions and shove them up y--"

She closed her eyes, and took a slow, measured breath, her hands clenching, then releasing at her sides. When she opened them again, she offered the group a brief close-lipped smile. Her tone was level, but there was an underlying tension to it. "Look. Wherever you're from, we aren't there. None of us. This is new, and we need to tread lightly. And if, in the course of instruction, any of us feel the need to blow off some steam, or engage in a more 'direct' form of violence, perhaps we could set up some matches between ourselves. One, it could offer the girls some insight as to just what can be accomplished at peak, though I don't expect any of them to go that far. Two, it allows us to maintain our own conditions. Three, it would allow us to blow off any steam, and for lack of a better phrase, 'take it outside' so to speak, if our disagreements run far enough into the areas of personal grudges. All that is secondary of course."

"Pack them in cotton, no. But ease them in, and assure that they have proper protection? Unless Elly here disagrees, I'm afraid I insist. Anything else will damn this opportunity, and the consort-to-be will suffer for it, as will the young prince, no doubt. I won't have it."

She had ended with her feet slightly apart, recognizably balanced, with the only offset being that she had folded her arms in front of her in an visibly emphatic exclamation point to her final statement.