by Rebecca of Valaris on Fri Oct 06, 2017 11:25 pm
A supposedly pleasant first day as the newest Imperial Guard, just boning up on what was going on, was what she had planned. Actually that wasn't true.
What she -had- planned was skimming through the list of wanted criminals, sorting them into boffables and non-boffables and then tracking down whoever took her fancy. Well, it was a system at least, although certainly being male or ugly probably increased any criminal's chance of getting away with it if the empire depended entirely on the efforts of Rebecca....And so, with a list of the most wanted and a bottle of Elven Red she gets her self comfy in a nook away from any other bugger and settles down for a pleasant morning.
Well, that -had- been the plan, until she started reading further.Abductions from Valencia was what had caught her eye and it had been with something of a smirk as she pulled the report and settled into a chair with the aim of gloating in joyous schadenfreude over how things were going to pot now she wasn't running the place. And yet...one report had led to another and any joy in the morning had soon past. It seemed from what she was reading that war was coming. Or if not, someone was damned keen on having one. Whether it was the barbarians or the empire she wasn't entirely sure but....aye, war. You could smell it in the air if you sniffed hard enough. That little jingo'y taint in the air that led to otherwise sensible men leaving the dinner on the table,slapping on war paint, grabbing grandpa's sword of the wall, rubbing the rust of the blade and dashing off for Gods knows what.
Aye, knowing the empire well enough...it wouldn't take much to kick things off. A few more instances of "happenings"; a few too many strangers and then people will get twitchy and then...well flags would be waved, nobles would run around making promises, songs would be sung and...fuck. She could see it now and she was afraid.
Now don't get me wrong. Rebecca wasn't a coward by any means and had drawn her own blade more oft than not. But that was one to one where both sides knew the stakes and the only thing likely to get hurt around them was some crockery. This was different. Afraid not for herself but for how this war would go, for war she was sure it would be, and what it meant for the bystanders. Oh they'd win - whatever that meant. The empire was too big and resourceful not to win. But define winning. Try telling some poor sod of a farmer that we've won and hip hip hooray when his wife has been raped and he's had his legs cut off and what's left of his farm is a smouldering heap. Aye, a grand thing victory - if you're far enough away from it that is. "Bollocks" she announces to the empty room as her insightful summary of the situation. "Buggery bollocks"
Well, square root of sod all she could do about it. Not now. She wonders briefly where if anywhere Balard would pop her. Not Valencia that she knew. Sorg had damned near banned her from the province following their last meeting. No, she'd just have to see. Line up with the rest of them, follow the guidon and hope no bugger was playing "Garry Owen" on a flute when they rode out.....and then a noise that causes to rise from her seat. Hrm, she ponders as she looks out of the window, now who the deuce were those chaps?