9 - Preparations
Finally gosh this one took so long. The next bit though will hopefully come much faster.
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“You have any other questions, Scion?”
Ostia was mulling over what Marius had told her. Of everything. The battle, the extraction, trying to piece together the events of the past few weeks as best she could. Her claws clicked against the tiled flooring anxiously as she turned it all over in her mind.
She trusted him. She trusted his accounts to be accurate and not embellished. Marius had enough medals and years of service to retire, he didn’t need to spin tales in search of glory while she was incapacitated. This was why the severity of his report unsettled the Scion.
Ostia could see it plainly. In her men, in the other guard, they’d recovered from the planet as well, in the way the other Salamanders who came and went seemed less jovial. Less willing to spend a breath and sit. Everyone was on edge. From what had happened, from all the unknowns. All anyone seemed to know was that something terrible had occurred, and Vitrius Seven was lost.
The uncertainty of it only made their present listless wandering worse.
Her claws clicked again sharply. Rhythmically. An anxious habit. “No, no Marius you’ve done more than enough” He had apparently resisted a stay in the infirmary for several days to make sure she and WARDEN were properly taken care of, before finally getting not so gently hauled into the medbay by the rest of the Halidan guard. The outline of a rather severe-looking stint and cast setup under his bedsheets was enough to inform Ostia of his condition. She eyed it grimly. “You deserve to rest. In fact, it’s an order now direct from me.”
He scoffed, mumbling something under his breath she didn’t quite catch. Next to her, Bean shifted uncomfortably. The boy had been on her bedside duty since arrival. Perhaps he thought this was a fight, or that he had erred in bringing her here. He was young, but he was smart. Quick to catch ques, just not versed enough to read them right. She and Marius huffed like this often, both far too stubborn for their own good. But it was all in stride. They respected each other.
Bean would be taking up Marius’ duties during the recovery. A good way to learn under less stressful conditions. Dealing with nobility wasn’t usually a life or death.
Usually.
“I’ll have to start pinning your honors on your back to keep you balanced” Ostia quickly continued, pulling his mind off bed rest and his own grumbling “Or else with that leg you’ll be tumbling forward nonstop.”
“Now I’m thinking you had it the right way round” He gestured to Ostias prosthetics “No trying to save something that isn’t there anymore.”
One last rattling of the claws against the floor. Ostia stood up from her seat stiffly. She wasn’t entirely recovered yet, but Marius didn’t need to know that. “The phantom pains are still bad, even after all these years. It’s not all the cogs crack it up to be.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, Haldus.”
They nodded to each other. Marius cut a crisp salute. Ostia waved him off, but she left happy that he was in good hands and good enough spirits. Considering his usual nature, he was downright cheerful.
Stepping out of the room, she and Bean took their leave of the medical facility.
Ostia continued cycling their current situation over in her head. Too many unknowns. It was just… Her face scrunched. Gox shit. It was a shit spot to be in, and she wasn’t sure of their next move.
She had managed to pick up a few things while in the medical area. This particular one seemed to be frequented by high-ranking crewmembers. Plenty of titles and names had been thrown around as she had begun walking again. As well, Andora was a savagely skilled woman. The Scion couldn’t think of many who held her force of personality and skill. Many of the other men and women who passed through seemed similarly competent in their bearing and manner. A capable crew was a good sign, at least.
Along with the usual ship's gossip, she had been informed of the Ork.
Holding down a capable crew while housing a greenskin on board was no easy feat. She’d heard whispers of uneasy alliances with the Eldar before, which was almost understandable, but this… She shook her head, thinking back to the years of arguing over the vox with Gitstank, and grimaced.
By Terra, I’d have jumped out the airlock if trapped on a ship with that long haul.
The Trader would have to be paying well. Or be worth staying for.
Or both in equal measure.
It seemed the man also had a flair for the dramatic. A common trait amongst the nobility, surely, but Ostia had never received a formal first meeting at a grand gala. Especially not even two weeks after a horrific war. Usually, a briefing was done first at least, but it seemed she wouldn’t be meeting with him until the ball.
Another delay. More time for the uncertainty to fester. The Scion couldn’t help feeling like a toy rather than a person.
And yet, here she was.
She was apparently to be ushered to various tailors, as now that her injuries no longer kept her bed-bound the celebrations would be imminent. While Ostia could hardly object to new clothing, as she hardly arrived with more than her now rather tattered uniform if the preparations and buzz in the halls held an indication of dress expectations she was more than nervous.
R’tan was outside the medical area waiting for them. The Astartes was in his full armor, the first Ostia had seen of it since they’d been planetside. New gashes and rents marked its surface, and though some areas showed signs of repair it was not enough to cover up even half the damage. It made her uneasy to see it so… Damaged. To see how close things might have been to not working out. Next to him, in the Astartes shadow, was a man wearing the colors of the Rogue Trader. An honor guard, it seemed.
“High King.” The guard gave a bow. Ostia pulled her eyes away from R’tans armor.
Good form. Full title. Ostia made a note to ensure she wasn’t informal with the Trader when they did meet. If this was how his men were trained, he’d likely expect the same in turn. She waved him off nervously “Haldus or Scion is more than fine, Sir. I’m not King of anything here.”
“Fair enough. I am Goradin, Sergeant at Arms, I’m here to escort you to your quarters and your tailoring appointments.”
It took Ostia a beat to respond “I’m flattered Sir, but I think this might be a bit below your station.”
R’tan rumbled next to her. Looking up, there was clear displeasure on his face. “It is to deal with the greenskin.”
“I can handle one Ork. No offense to your Lord Trader but I don’t need coddling.”
While she put on the air of confidence with her rebuttal, Ostia wasn’t sure she could manage. Not at present. She was stiff, and still ached from both the fighting and extended bed rest. Certainly not in her best shape, but she’d put up a fight regardless. It would be unwise to appear weak. First impressions would matter immensely.
“None taken.” Goradins response was practiced. Ostia felt a pang of sympathy at the dead expression in the man's eyes. How often did he get saddled with this sort of duty? “To be frank, it’s more about keeping Zarbag safe from your friends.”
The incline of the man's head towards R’tan was met with a deep scowl.
“R’tan?”
Ostia didn’t believe she’d ever heard an Astartes pout, but the agitated ‘Hrmph’ that R’tan emitted while looking past her could only be described as such. “I will not be accompanying you. It seems that the Rogue Trader has a taste for scooping up Astartes now. I would not have you wandering alone.”
“Scooping up Astartes?” Ostia frowned “More wayward groups?”
R’tan nodded, swinging his gaze downwards. “That there are enough of us scattered to make this a habit…”
Yeah. The Scion didn’t need it spelled out. It seemed the misfortune spread farther than Vitrious Seven.
She was all the more frustrated with the ceremonies now. If something big was happening there wasn’t time to sit and parade around in leisure. On the other hand… Ostia really wasn’t in a position to strike out on her own.
Her eyes lingered on R’tan.
She also wasn’t sure if she’d want to.
R’tan had at least met with the Rogue Trader. He seemed to hold an amicable opinion of him. Though, aside from the Orks on Vitrious Ostia couldn’t remember anyone R’tan hadn’t liked. So perhaps not the best measure.
Still. She had to trust someone, and she did trust R’tan.
“Alright.” Ostia relented, turning to the Honor Guard. “Alright. I’ll put up with this farce, on one condition.”
“I am authorized to grant any reasonable request.” Goardin nodded.
“I’m going to see my Knight before anything else.”
The guard sighed “Sir-”
“I think that's quite reasonable.”
“It is.” The man broke his posture for a moment, rubbing his eyes. “Please, follow me.”
R’tan gave a half bow and departed in the opposite direction, leaving Bean, Ostia, and their escort to trudge deeper into the depths of the ship.
The vessel appeared to be in fine working order. The walls were gilded and covered in opulent furnishings and accents far below what floors Ostia would have expected. It seemed there was quite a taste for appearances.
These tailoring appointments make sense then. I suppose I’ll have to get something nice.
Ostia wished Lu was here. She had always been the one with the eye for dress.
It was a quiet walk down into the ship's lower levels. Bean and Goradin made small talk ahead. The two seemed to get along well, and Goradin seemed to have a multitude of stories to share. Bean eagerly asked questions and listened intently.
The Scion was glad for the break from the conversation. It was always difficult to adjust to the lulls between fighting, but this… Thankfully she couldn’t remember most of the past week's downtime, but still. This might be the longest Ostia had gone in years between deployments. Or at least the longest she could reasonably remember. She couldn’t place the last time there had been a gala or event to break up the monotonous events of the ever-present war.
“-right, Haldus?”
Lost in her own thoughts the Scion had failed to notice the imposing door they now stood at. Bean and Goradin had stopped, both eyed her warily. Bean waited expectantly for an answer, though…
It seemed she had missed something important.
“Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere. I’ve missed what you said.” Ostia admitted to them. No sense hiding it. That just leads to trouble and missed directions. She was trying to avoid trouble for now.
“We will need to pass through where the Master at Arms is being entertained in order to arrive at your Knight in any reasonable amount of time, Sir.” Goradin spoke up.
“Ah. This was the source of your hesitation to my request, then?” Ostia looked past the man as he nodded. “Are you asking if I can behave myself?”
“I’m more inclined to ask you to restrain yourself, after hearing the stories your men tell. Zarbag is the most recent obsession of the Rogue Trader, and we only finished helping the twistcatchers root out the final colony of the xeno he dragged on board before that.”
So he’s a taste for exotic creatures? I suppose the ork makes a bit more sense, then.
“For your sake, I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Well.” He smiled back, pressing the button to open the door “You don't need to go that far. Zarbag certainly won't be.” | Patreon | Who the heck are your characters? | Ask me Anything | Commission Info | Redbubble | Ao3 |
