The eye-pleasing kitsch had been removed, but there were still curves in the contour with no practical purpose. The lookout platform on the front-end was also a vestige of its former touristic purpose.
The lookout platform upon which Lafier was standing.
The salty sea breeze was making sport of her waving bluish-black hair. Her jet-black eyes were fixed dead ahead — right on the isle of Rajay. And her heart was suffused with anxiety, with apprehension and fear. Is he alive?
Since the Empire made it back to this countdom, they’d tried making contact with Lohbnahss’s landworld, to no avail. They had no idea what state this planet was in. All they knew for sure, thanks to some scanning from orbit, was that at the very least, there were living people.
Lafier unconsciously covered the lower half of her face with a lédunec (handkerchief).
“Are you all right?” asked Samson.
“Now that you ask, no, I’m not,” she admitted. She had already had her fill of this. This was the first time the Royal Princess had been hit by whiffs of sea water, and her nose found this aroma disagreeable. Moreover, the feel of the wind on her skin was creeping her out. She imagined the air current entwining her body and holding her tight. “Is this world always like this?”
“I was under the impression that the seas were the one thing Lohbnahss had going for it,” said Tomasov, all but wincing.
“These seas are really invigorating. Plus, the weather’s great,” said Samson in consolation. “It’s okay, Abhs just aren’t well-acquainted with oversized puddles like this.”
Tomasov’s current title was “Maydeen-Memoriam Security Brigade Chief.” The organization which bore the name of the last Chief Executive of Lohbnahss was a private mercenary corps, and had been formed within the amphibious ship Dacsaith. Such was what resulted when the planet’s former guards, who were uncertain what their futures held, gathered together, spurred in part by some advice from Unit Commander Gabautec. There was no shortage of parties that were in the market for muscle and guns.
Needless to say, not all of them joined. Many rejected the idea of working for the Empire, or for an aristocratic class. Furthermore, while public security was supposed to be their bread and butter, this was still a job that would put their lives into greater danger than before. Of course, that there would be those among their number who desired more tranquil lifestyles was more than expected, and there were others who wanted to decide whether to join only after they’d decompressed.
As such, the Maydeen-Memoriam Security Brigade now stood at a little over two thousand members.
The start-up costs were all financed via loan. This was a mercenary corps without any deeds to its name. Even if they issued bonds, nobody would bite. Of course, it would be even harder to be accepted for loans under normal circumstances, but when a genuine royal princess was one’s guarantor, the picture changed considerably.
The corps’ first client was the House of Clybh. However, it was a stretch to claim this was an official commission of the Royal Family. The head of Clybh was naturally King Dubeus, and they were operating under the behest of the First Princess without his express approval. On the other hand, that was of zero concern to the contractors themselves. As long as they were paid what they were owed, they couldn’t care less. And Lafier would stake her honor on fulfilling the terms. Plus, if push came to shove, and her father the King didn’t consent, she could collateralize her future revenue as Viscountess Parhynh and borrow from elsewhere.
That was just how worthy this mission truly was.
No... no, it wasn’t a question of “worth.” There was something that she needed to achieve, come hell or high water.
Where Samson stood in all this wasn’t entirely clear. This operation wasn’t Star Forces. At the end of the day, it was Lafier’s personal campaign. And he certainly wasn’t a servant vassal of the House of Clybh. On paper, he had nothing to do with the whole endeavor. Yet he seemed to feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, so he insisted he be included, and went so far as to hand in a request for leave.
Lafier couldn’t deny that request. She just couldn’t.
The two remaining starpilots aboard the assault ship Basrogrh did give joining some thought (though Lafier had never once gleaned what was going through Ecryua’s head), but they’d ultimately decided to prioritize their service duties.
The hovercars zoomed over the coast and pressed inland, before reaching the roads. The giant command vehicle could no longer progress.
Lafier attempted to run down from the lookout platform.
“Wait!” said Samson, lifting his arms to stop her. “Please, stay here, Captain. It’s dangerous.”
“This is my operation,” she said, pushing back verbally. “What you’re doing is uncalled for.”
“But your clothes will attract too much attention,” he pointed out.
Lafier wasn’t in starpilot garb. Until now, while she’d been a “lady agent,” a technically non-military position, she’d understood her mission to be partially military in nature, so she’d worn a military uniform underneath her long robe. But this mission was zero percent Star Forces. Consequently, the circlet that adorned her bluish-black head was not the elegant but simple circlet of a Deca-Commander, but the exquisitely crafted circlet of a royal princess. In addition, instead of the black military uniform, she wore a dark purple jumpsuit under a light green long robe. Certainly, this ensemble would catch some eyes on most any landworld. In fact, it would do so in the realm of the Abh, too.
“I echo his plea, Your Highness,” said Tomasov. “If I were to let my first client come to harm, it would damage our reputation going forward.”
“Worry not. Protecting me isn’t what I’m paying you for.”
“Still...” said Tomasov, discomfited.
“Where would you even go, ma’am?” said Samson. “We don’t know where the lad is. Wouldn’t it be wiser to stay here until he’s found?”
That left Lafier at a loss for words.
“Captain. If you think you can atone by exposing yourself to danger, then you’re mistaken,” he continued.
“You think I’m doing this to atone!?” Lafier raised her voice, but not because he’d missed the mark in his assessment. On the contrary, she was seized by the sudden feeling he’d laid bare what she herself hadn’t been aware was her subconscious aim. “...I’m still convinced I made the correct call that day.”
“All the more reason not to fly into harm’s way,” said Samson, laying the finishing blow.
“Yes... you’re right,” nodded Lafier.
Tomasov looked relieved as he went down toward the command post. The mercs of the Maydeen-Memoriam Security Brigade stepped out of their vehicles and spread out. With the hovercars out in front, they infiltrated the streets. Or rather, what was once the streets. Now they were scorched ruins. More than a month had passed since land war had been waged in this area, but the signs of destruction were fresh and sundry. There was no hint of anyone living here, either.
Lafier felt distinctly empty inside as she watched the backs of the brigade members pushing quietly through the grievous devastation.
“Must be tough for them, too,” said Samson.
“What do you mean?” asked Lafier.
“I mean, this is where they used to live. They must have made a handful of memories here. Sure, they may have abandoned the place, but it can’t be a laugh seeing everything lie in ruins.”
“True.” It was quite possible some would wind up encountering the corpses of their former colleagues as well. That would shake the most stoic of souls.
“Well, it’s time I head out. I’ll be back soon,” said Samson.
“Where are you going?” said Lafier, raising her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you consider stopping me from ‘atoning’ as your own atonement, and now you’re done here?”
“No ma’am. We atone in our own way.”
“‘We’? Who’s ‘we’?”
“Ah, ‘we’ a
s in my people. This is how it’s done on my home planet.”
“How it’s done?” Lafier’s interest was piqued, slightly.
“We cook. Meet with a friend we haven’t seen in a while, and put all our skill into making something to delight the taste buds. That’s the custom on my great and gorgeous planet of Midgrat. Obviously can’t do the cooking here, though. I brought a set of kitchen tools, so I’m going to do it over there on that patch of ground,” he said, pointing toward the vacant turf visible from the lookout. “I won’t be far.”
“You brought kitchen tools?” said Lafier, astonished.
“Of course. Why do you think I came?” he laughed impishly. “And, circumstances being what they are, I’ll be whipping up a meal grand enough to greet a friend after ten years’ absence. I’d like it if you could get back here before it gets cold. If it went to waste, then...”
Lafier waited wordlessly for him to continue.
“...Do you know what the rudest thing you can do in Midgrat is, ma’am?” he asked, a serious look on his face.
“Putting a meal to waste?” she asked, with equal seriousness.
“You’re nearly right. It’s having somebody prepare a meal, only to stand them up. And I don’t think our laddie’s that rude a guy.”
“This is just a suggestion, but... Shall I assist you?”
“You want to help me cook, Captain!?” said Samson. “Umm, that’s... well, you see, Midgrat cuisine makes use of unique techniques, and, well, I only prepared a single set of tools, so you don’t have to.”
“I said it was a suggestion,” she said, miffed at how put upon he seemed.
“Then please, leave it to me. Besides, you haven’t ever cooked before anyway, right, Captain?”
“Of course not, but I was thinking there must be some simpler tasks as well. It’s fine, never mind.”
“All right then, we’ll leave it at that.”
“Wait,” she said.
Samson turned back to face her. “What is it?”
“Well...” Lafier looked positively bashful. “What expression should I make when I greet the man?”
“That depends on who ‘the man’ is,” Samson shrugged.
“What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious?”
“Ah, allow me to explain,” he said, scratching his head. “If what ‘the man’ is to you is a subordinate you left behind, and you think that was the correct decision, then I think it’s probably good enough to give him a pat on the back and say, ‘job well done.’”
Lafier caught on to what he was insinuating. “And if he’s not just a subordinate to me?”
“I’m about to cook in celebration of a friend’s coming through okay. But my head can’t get a fix on how you’ll respond, Captain. The way it’s done in Midgrat is different from how Imperials do it, that much I know. I could never even guess at the ways of the Imperial Household.”
“Forgive me. It was a stupid question.”
“Oh, no, I’ll treasure this conversation of ours for the rest of my life. I look forward to getting back home and being thought of as dubious due to bragging how I once taught an Abh princess a valuable lesson.”
And with that, Samson descended to set upon his task. Lafier looked down at the empty lot from her perch, and soon enough, the mechanic was walking over with two pieces of automated luggage in tow, one of which proceeded to unfold into what was essentially a kitchen (lacking little besides a roof). The other had the ingredients and a collapsible table and chairs.
They weren’t that far from the ocean, so the smell of the sea was as pungent as ever. And now that Samson was using spices she’d never smelled, the fragrances were mingling into something too heady for her to take. Even so, Lafier didn’t let her discomfort show on the surface, and remained upright and at attention.
From the bottom of her heart, she hoped the recipient of Samson’s wining and dining would show himself.
“We have yet to find His Excellency, but we now have a near complete grasp of the situation on-planet,” reported Tomasov upon ascending back up to the platform.
“Is the situation something he could survive?” she asked.
The Royal Princess was technically still the Lady Agent of the Countdom of Lohbnahss, and so the conditions on the ground of her landworld were supposed to be of sizable importance to her. Despite that, in the interest of candor, she didn’t care a jot. The only thing on her mind was Jint. Was he okay? That was all that mattered.
“I’m terribly sorry, we still can’t say for sure...”
“It’s okay. So then, what’s the situation?”
“It seems they’ve split into two main groups. There’s the Dohkfoo Faction, and the Anguson Faction, but both have different people at the helm.”
“What happened to them?”
“This isn’t confirmed, but it seems Dohkfoo was killed. As for Anguson, we hear he’s been kicked out by his former henchmen. It’s unclear whether he’s still alive. Would you like us to search for Anguson as part of our mission objectives as well?”
“Not for the time being. If the Count of Hyde should be alive, then we have no business with him,” she replied immediately.
“Do you mean to say that if His Excellency is alive, you won’t seek justice?”
“It’s not for me to decide,” said Lafier, shaking her head.
If one kidnapped a noble or imperial citizen, that person would be tried under the law of the Empire, even if the perpetrator was a landworld citizen. Nevertheless, a statement by the victim was required. In other words, if Jint didn’t sue, then Empire courts couldn’t touch Anguson.
Knowing Jint, he won’t bother to press charges, thought Lafier. And if he consulted her, she planned to recommend not pressing charges, too. Deserted by his lackeys and forced to wander this barren landworld was a fitting punishment.
As much as she was loath to entertain the possibility, if Jint did want to press charges but couldn’t due to... then Anguson’s fate was sealed. He would be sent to the Abh Hell without question.
“In any case, the two factions are still at war. Anguson’s has taken over the former East Correctional Zone, and the eastern part of the former Central Correctional Zone, while Dohkfoo’s is holed up in the former West Correctional Zone. There appear to be other smaller groups as well, but we don’t know their numbers.”
“It seems like chaos.”
“‘Chaos’ is definitely the word, ma’am. It boggles my mind how they were able to drag this place to this level of lawlessness in such a short time.”
“And neither group has the Count of Hyde.”
“That is correct, unfortunately,” Tomasov added. “Though His Excellency is not confirmed dead, either.”
Lafier flared with anger at the word “dead.” By speaking aloud the possibility Jint was dead, the Security Brigade Chief had committed a faux pas. But then, her ire subsided. She recalled how Jint would always tell her how there were cultures out there she didn’t know the first thing about. She knew Tomasov didn’t mean anything by it.
Jint being Jint, he could well be eking out a comfortable day-to-day existence with some small-time gang, she wanted to believe.
“This may not be the appropriate time to broach the subject,” said Tomasov, changing the subject, “but what will become of Lohbnahss from here on out? How will the Empire run the planet?”
“You’re curious?” said Lafier, surprised.
“Of course.”
“I see. Well, I’m afraid I don’t know, either. The rightful magistrate has already been appointed; I just had them let me stay on as Lady Agent a little while longer so I could fulfill my own personal mission of rescuing the man.”
“Ah...” Going by Tomasov’s expression, he seemed a bit adrift.
“That said, I am still Lady Agent. If you so desire, I can reinstate you as Citizen Representative.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” he said, waving a hand. “My responsibilities lie in making a go of this new enterpris
e.”
“Then there’s nothing I can do.”
“Your Highness, would you mind descending down soon? It’s rather nippy up here.”
“Down to the command post? Surely I’d just be in your way.”
“While I greatly appreciate the sentiment, you needn’t worry about that. Besides, there’s a rest station in case anything comes up...”
“I’m fine,” she declined firmly.
“If Your Highness insists,” said Tomasov.
Meanwhile, Samson was throwing multifarious ingredients into his giant cauldron. The Royal Princess hadn’t the faintest inkling as to whether he was approaching completion or whether this was just prep work. Thinking on it, this was the first time she’d ever seen somebody hand-preparing cuisine (as opposed to using machines).
She watched Samson’s kitchen for a while, but then she looked straight ahead once again. Several hovercars were rushing over.
Are they bringers of good news, or of... She felt her heart race, her jet-black eyes fixed on the flying vehicles. Multiple people jostled their way out the doors — it seemed they had a female survivor in custody. Perhaps this woman knew of Jint’s fate.
Lafier couldn’t hold back any longer, and descended to the so-called “command post,” which was originally the conversation lounge of the safari car; it was not stuffed to the gills with sophisticated implements or machinery. All that was installed was transmission equipment that could be called luxurious were it in a common household.
“I’m telling ya, I’m not the one who killed the guy!”
The moment she entered the command post, she heard the middle-aged woman slurring through her testimony.
“What is the meaning of this!?” said Lafier, halting in her tracks. “Who’s been killed?”
“Ah, Your Highness!” stammered Tomasov. “I was just about to report back to you. We recovered this.”
The Royal Princess grabbed what the Security Brigade Chief offered. It was a circlet, specifically, one made without frocragh functionality, for a starpilot without a froch.
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