[center][h1][u][b]Wolves & Magpies[/b][/u][/h1] -After the Siege of Ouran- [hr] [img]https://i.imgur.com/xuiil6g.jpeg[/img][/center] [hr] Colonel Markus Kaine looked up to the overcast sky, his service cap partially blocking the oncoming tainted rain. He had expected as much from the new front in the Pacific, yet he hadn’t expected every single day since the hive-city’s conquest to be so dreary. He’d spent dozens of days now operating in the theater, expecting the orders to march on the Jade Citadel to drop at any moment. Still, every single day had been the damned same since Ouran’s defeat. A few rebel groups here, a few dockyard incidents there, and some minor incursions from the strange ship-people that floated in without permission. Every second spent rebuilding the Pacifican city, managing its people, was a second wasted that wasn’t on the march aboard his command tank. Yet, Ol’ Crucias believed in him to do this. Enough so that he was promoted to Colonel from Commander after the Siege of Protosia Agras. No longer the Fourteenth Division Commander, but the appointed officer in charge of the Third Corps. His was a privileged position, only ten of them existed across the Tenth Excertus Imperialis. He should’ve felt pride at being honored for such a prestigious command. His arid fatigues and flak had been replaced with a senior officer’s trenchcoat and charcoal carapace. He’d even been given a new power saber fit with a volkite pistol to match. In truth, however, it was a trap. He should’ve known when he was assigned garrison detail over Ouran after his promotion. His command staff were beyond happy, able to hunker down and finish their backlog of reports. Markus thought it was punishment for actively wanting to consort with the Emperor’s finest. If it had been a whisper in Abyssna, then it was now an established rumour about his final night with the Legion Mistress of the Fifteenth. It hadn’t helped that his past-time of fiction writing had somehow made it to the troops. He stopped momentarily, pulling the silver amulet from beneath his uniform and drawing it up before him. A chronometer and another surprise had been fashioned to it, but he pressed the clasp open to reveal a locket of silver hair. It made him forget all of the despair he felt over his new duties. It only further reinforced the stories about him, yet Markus didn’t care for them. Not truly, at least. Markus glanced both ways before crossing over the next section of the dock. A retinue of auxilia followed after him, each in the red-black trenchcoats and charcoal shakos atop their head. Hoarse breathing through their goggled masks made them appear worse than they appeared. The section they walked on was an endless drone of drills, construction units, and manual laborers repairing the damage done in the assault. Autocranes lifted wrecked troop transports from the coastal mires to his left, while maintainers in exosuits hefted large pallets of rockrete for laying. All wore different variations of shawl, cloak, or cover to hide them from the acidic downpour. Their work was difficult, certainly, yet Markus felt that his next task was to be more instrumental and arduous. He wasn’t simply assigned to guard the entirety of Ouran with a tenth of the Black Wolves. Colonel Kaine was also governing a portion of their spoils, at least until an official entrusted by Himalazia arrived or he was deemed ill-fit for the task. He often banked on the latter and wondered if Lord-Commander Crucias was laughing to himself somewhere at his fate. And today, of all days, he was given the duty of becoming a representative, diplomat, and emissary of the Imperium. His destination was located at the furthest end of Ouran’s docks, those that were fortunate enough to avoid the mayhem that the Imperium visited on them. He found himself approaching them at an accelerated pace. His retinue was surprisingly keeping cadence with him, the banner of the Black Wolves waving above them in brilliant black, gold, and red. Another member held aloft a twin banner, this one greater and wider to show the Raptor Imperialis of the Emperor. Colonel Markus gathered his courage as he approached the docked ships. At approximately one-hundred and fifty meters of distance from the first ship, he halted and stood at a resting position with his hands clasped behind his back. The retinue of auxilia followed his example, coming to a parade rest with their flags wavering in the Pacifican winds. Two of the ships at the harbor were painted blood-red, draped in red cloth and teeming with red figures. As they saw him approach, a large crowd of them headed straight for him, led by a raven-haired woman in a form hugging red dress. As she came close, she waved to him. “Hellooooo!” She was smiling, he could see. “You look rather dashing in that fancy uniform. I assume you’ve got [i]some[/i] kind of authority?” Around her crowded about twenty similarly dressed people, as well as about seven red-garbed children between the ages of 5 and 13, waiting for his answer with wide, expectant eyes. “You’d be correct, ma’am,” Markus responded, removing his hands from behind his back and tipping his service cap. In the same moment he removed his hat, the Colonel felt the slight sting of acidic rain on his shaven head. It made his skin tingle, jostling the few augmentations that decorated his skull. Kaine continued as he replaced his hat atop his head, “Colonel Markus Kaine of the Tenth Imperial Army, Tenth Corps at your service.” He clicked his heels together and the retinue swiftly switched to attention. The banners were lifted and slammed down, brought abreast to the soldiers carrying them. Those with lasguns tapped the butt of their rifle to the dock, then slapped them against their chests in a display of professionalism. After their short display, Markus clicked his heels together once again and the auxilia returned to their parade rest. “Or you may call us the Black Wolves, ma’am. I am the temporary governor of Ouran and act as liaison for the wider Imperial Armies operating in the Pan-Pacific Theater. May I have your name?” He crossed his arms behind his back again. Internally, he was cheering for himself. Markus had never gotten to perform these kinds of theatrics as a Commander. There was little time for ceremonies on wartorn Terra, after all. He’d have to try doing so in front of Legion Mistress Pantea. Unconsciously, a smile crossed over his serious demeanor. The woman in front of him laughed loudly. “No. You may not have my name.” The people gathered around her were also all snickering, the children beginning to sneak closer to one of the banners to inspect it closely. “We are the Crimson Magpies, and I am the Crimson Emissary. We’re here to….” she hesitated, glancing at the children, “trade.” There was meaning behind her final word. A meaning familiar to him. The provocatively dressed woman and her lackeys were definitely flirting. Colonel Markus Kaine stared at the woman he had talked to like a wastedog in headlights. The gears turned in his head, spinning slowly to fully articulate what was happening. A cog finally clicked into place and the man visibly ruffled, his neck turning pink with embarrassment. No one had shared details of the docked ships with him, not even the commander of the siege himself. In that moment, amongst the trick and twirl of his men, he felt immense idiocy. “[b]By Him on Himalazia![/b]” Markus responded, bringing a gloved hand up to his face and visibly wiping the embarrassment away. His demeanor straightened out in a vain attempt to maintain some manner of solemnity. A puff of air ejected out of his nose as he recomposed himself, especially in front of his new cadre. He gave a handwave behind him for an ‘at ease’ as the situation became more lax. The auxilia visibly deflated after several moments of pompous ceremony, beginning to slowly interact with the Magpies and their children. “I feel like I’ve fallen in a trap of some kind,” Markus muttered to himself, before straightening up and replying to the woman. “Well, there are plenty of soldiers in recovery here after a very intense siege. I’m sure they’ll appreciate ‘[i]downtime[/i]’ after their time with the medicus. So long as you don’t oppose the Emperor’s rule over Terra, then I see no reason for you not to come ashore.” “As for me, I’d like to speak with the… Captain of the Crimson Magpies.” He stated, the last words were spoken with a manner of uncertainty, unaware of whether they had an overall leader or some manner of hierarchy. Markus certainly fell out of his element, but he was ready to deal with anything. One of his gloves touched the silver amulet in his coat for assurance and virtue. She smiled, stepping closer to him and into his personal space. “I can of course bring you on board our ship to speak with my sister, but I’m afraid tradition holds our Captain may not step ashore. If you’d rather stay on solid ground, I do hold the power to speak for her when on land, as her Emissary.” As she spoke, the children gained the courage to gather around one of the banner holders and inspect. “I see. If your traditions dictate that they may not step ashore, then I will have to accept your offer for being brought aboard.” Markus responded, taking a small step backwards. He released the silver amulet with fresh resolve. The closeness kept a small amount of flush on his neck, but he remained resilient of her advances externally. Internally, he wished to be anywhere else but here right now. The inside of a tank would be more comfortable or the lonesome quarters in Abbaba. Behind him, both of the standard bearers looked at each other and nodded. They leaned down and proudly displayed the fabric of their banners. It was a sturdy linen, embroidered specially with reinforced weave to print the images on them. A game was now being played between the two standard bearers to see how many they could draw. Would they flock to the Black Wolves or the Raptor Imperialis? The former was a Terran wolf of black on a field of red, while the latter was a raptor of black crossed by lightning bolts on a field of gray. The other soldiers watched with interest as Colonel Markus spoke with the Crimson Emissary. The children oohed and ahhed over the banners, before the smallest, a girl who could not be older than 5 and a half, attempted to climb the Black Wolves’ banner and loudly declared, “I’m hidden now!!” before falling backwards off the banner into the oldest boy’s arms, giggling. Decision made. The Emissary paused to watch them fondly for a moment before turning back to him and saying in a quiet and far less upsetting voice, “One question before I take you to the Captain. How safe is the city at the moment?” Their banner had been championed by the children of the Crimson Magpies. A short cheer of glee from the soldiers rose up before they were silenced by a look from the Colonel. Their standards were picked up and brought back to bear, crisply bringing themselves back to ease with their boots slapped together. Markus gave a firm nod before turning back to the Emissary. “If I’m being honest, ma’am, then I’d say there’s still some danger currently in the city. We’ve only just started compliance in Ouran and the Jade Palace is within missile radius. Our best efforts have seen a grave reduction of crime and rebellion, but there are those that slip through our fingers. The [i]felinids of Magh Meallan[/i] have been greatly helped with keeping the city safe though. And,” Markus started to respond as a noise made itself known some hundreds of meters away by the mouth of the dock. A Space Marine of the Seventeenth passed, assisting the dock workers and the mechanics with their work. She drew their attention for only a moment with her grey, ceramite power armor before disappearing with another Space Marine in black-bronze. The Colonel continued with a warm smile, “we have the Emperor’s finest here to keep things more than just a little safe.” “The kitty-cats are here, huh? They’re trustworthy folk. Alright kiddos!” She raised her voice to be heard. “Stick together, stay close enough to the dock to hear a shout. Go wild.” The kids [i]immediately[/i] abandoned the banners and ran off, shrieking with delight at their freedom. The Emissary turned back to him. “And now to my sister we go!” She led him onto the slightly larger of the two red ships as the rest of her adult companions scattered as well, off to trade with the inhabitants of the city, both old and new. Those who remained on the ships were the old, the very young, and a few just around to keep watch over the only home these people knew. She led him down below to a room draped in red silk-satin and red velvet cushions. And there, lounging on a red couch, wearing the exact same dress as her sister, was… an identical woman. The only apparent difference between the sisters was the gold-wire circlet that rested on her brow, one ruby set on it so that it shone at the center of her forehead. Even their voices, when the Crimson Captain spoke, were identical. “Sister! You’ve brought me quite a handsome guest.” “Thank you for your flattery, Captain,” Colonel Markus responded with a small smile, removing his service cap as he stepped into the cabin. As he wasn’t prompted to sit, Kaine instead chose to stand at ease with his hands clasped behind his back. Now formally in the realm of Magpie authority, he gave a small bow of his head. Something that he’d picked up from Indoi. He continued as he raised his head, “my name is Colonel Markus Kaine of the Tenth Imperial Army, Tenth Corps or the Black Wolves if you’d prefer.” “And thank you for allowing me on board, for the courtesy of seeing me, and for the escorts…” Markus continued to speak, his former embarrassment with the emissary rising up again. He quickly quelled it beneath the firm resolve in his heart. His eyes quickly scanned the room before resting on the Crimson Captain. The only thing in the room other than the Captain’s lounging couch (which had been bolted to the floor to prevent it from doing any impromptu moving when the seas were rough) was a child-sized hammock at the back of the room, currently empty. Everything in the room, from the walls and floors to every inch of the furniture, had been dyed or painted red. She grinned at him. “Aren’t you adorable! Such formalities. I would never refuse an audience with you Imperial folk. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Both sisters laughed. “What is it you asked after me for, Markus?” She said his name with an emphasis on the k, as if she was playing a game with the syllables in her mouth. “Certainly! We can bond for a lifetime over the enemies of Unity, but I’ve come for a matter adjacent to that. We have conquered Ouran,” Markus replied with gusto, rallying under the banner of an ally. He tried his damndest to ignore the flirting or the mockery, but he’d be lying if he were to say it didn’t affect him. The Colonel vowed to never work as a delegate again, except for the Legio. He continued, “and we are marching on the Jade Palace of Narthan Dume as we speak. The Emperor demands the Pan-Pacific Empire’s demise and he shall have it.” “It is part of my job to assess threats in the region and potential allies while I ensure the compliance of Ouran. Your ships have come under our auspex, so I’ve come to see what your intentions are in our theater. What are you doing here, Captain?” The Colonel’s voice took a more serious tone, resolving himself for the harder questions that he’d have to ask. Markus never had to conduct a compliance action, or integration delegation, or handle flirting before Abyssna. This was new ground for a man of his flake and it was evident on his face. His pure azure eyes never left the Captain as he spoke. The Captain hummed to herself thoughtfully, seeming somewhat put out, and her sister fully frowned at him. “What are we doing here? We live here. The ocean is our home, and these ports are our livelihood, even if the damned Pacific Empire calls us rats and criminals for it. Have the locals not mentioned the Magpies? Or the Vultures, as they sometimes call us Crimsons?” “I bet he hasn’t bothered talking to them much,” the Emissary added, but the Captain waved a hand dismissively. “Magpies are traders, Markus Kaine. We travel the Great Ocean and trade, from the fertile lands of Magh Meall to the smallest towns of the wastelands to the biggest hive-cities, in food and water and trinkets and valuables and information. They call the Crimson Magpies in particular ‘Vultures,’ because we have… additional hobbies. We like to go where there’s been disasters or war.” She smiles coldly. “People in need pay more for necessities. Tired soldiers want more for distraction. And the dead leave much behind that they no longer need. Knives and forks, blankets and bed sheets, rugs, chairs- whatever we can get. [i]That[/i] is why we are here.” A moment of silence passed as he mulled over her words. He wasn’t a dense man. Markus knew when he had unknowingly offended someone, especially people that he had never met. Their way of life though, scavenging for what the Magpies needed on the aftermath of battlefields. It was something that he felt in his soul as someone from a Midafrik bunker-hive. No wonder they had suddenly arrived at Ouran’s docks after the slaughter that saw the hive toppled. “Your Emissary is right, actually. I haven’t had a lot of time to discuss with the locals about those living in the Great Ocean. In fact, I come from a completely different part of Terra. Before I was part of the Imperial Army, ol’ Markus Kaine was a little scavenger boy from the citadel-hive of Xalza. I wasn’t even the first person to set boots on Ouran’s shore, poor sods,” the Colonel finally began to speak, easing off of the formality and pomp that he was growing accustomed to. His gloved hands rested comfortably at his hips, while his legs adjusted to his releasing of professional restraints. He gestured with a hand before continuing, “but I should’ve asked about the customs when I was assigned to be governor. You’ve got my apologies for that, Captain.” “As an apology, how about we talk about setting up fair trade for the Magpies with some of the Imperial logisticae instead of trying to discern your political stance? I think you’ve got enough hate for the Pan-Pacific Empire for me to feel comfortable.” Markus proposed, a more lax tone and a more natural way of talking, breaking through the Imperial front he had to display. He certainly preferred it more than trying to forever live up to Crucias’ wants, though Kaine could already tell he’d get censured for breaking military bearing. As his formality lapsed, so too did the two identical women watching him relax. As he finished talking, the Captain grinned at him, curling her legs up closer to her to make room on her lounging couch. “Come sit then, Colonel. Let’s [i]talk.[/i]” [hr] Credits: Colonel Markus Kaine [@MarshalSolgriev], Crimson Magpies [@mothnoodle]