NUTS!?!?!?!?

"Nuts!" Metternich muttered the light curse word under his breath as his mind stopped its wondering and returned to the present.

He thought of his current situation.

The young commodore was about to arrive at a warzone, that in itself would be enough to drive anyone to pronouncing a few choice words, to go with the flashbacks to critical moments in his lifetime that made him arrive at his current destination.

But it was not just that, his current status was more nuanced than that.

On the one hand having a few hundred ships and several thousands of warriors to stand behind when the blasters, missiles, energy beams, omega spells and hopefully not the 'Riddle of Ruin' started flying was a good thing, on the other he also had to worry about even more enemy soldiers targeting him, so a mixed blessing at best!

Oh, who was he kidding? Being in the fleet was horrible; it was a living nightmare for him, no more so than during wartime.

No matter what happened death was all around him.

What was defeat? They had lost more 'heroes to the country' than the enemy.

Victory? The enemy lost more than them!

But no matter what happened, death was always a constant.

The Grinder got its due, regardless of who was labeled triumphant or vanquished.

And he, the nobody from who known's where and when, was the one who decided who lived and who died on the imperial side! And by virtue of Metty's efforts to find some small measure of safe location away from the battle, dig a hole and crawl into it until the shooting stops, he somewhat always landed himself in the worst of it all, only to survive, win and his reward for such an accomplishment is a front row seat ticket to an even bigger killing field!

He would always be the one to pay the butcher's bill, and if he didn't pay it in enemy soldiers with victory, then the butcher would come to collect from the other side!

The butcher always got his due for the grinder!

After his first battle, and the first sight of his dead soldiers, Metternich had tried to think of his warriors and officers as nothing but tools, tried to distance himself from them, hoping to ease his guilt when they would eventually die in future battles, if only to ease the burden it placed on his conscious.

But it did not work and no matter how many victories he achieved and despite knowing that he couldn't have done anything better in the past to avoid his subordinates dying, he still wondered if he could have saved them.

But that was not possible and even now, years after he was drafted, he could still remember just how many had died, what their last moments were, but what really weight heavily on his mind was the fact that he was starting to forget their names and their faces were starting to slip as well.

Metternich now knows that before he manages to leave the fleet, he will have forgotten even more names and faces and that would haunt him forever.

Maybe if he had been faster, stronger or smarter he could have prevented more deaths; maybe he could have paid the butcher's bill more that the other side could have.

Was there a way he could have killed more foes than before?

"Did I just...…saints and sinners how...was that really my thoughts, just now? Did I seriously just....Is that really me when I look into the mirror?"

The scars left on his soul pulsed once more in pain as the young commodore's mind was darkened by the path he now walked.

Across countless fields of slaughter many have died, but he and those he could take with him had managed to survive, he had forged a path for himself across the field.

Made from enemy corpses, and built using the 'tools' at his disposal, Metty had created a path with which he survived and he knew that before it would all be over, many paths would be built and tool's names would forgotten and he would gladly do them all a hundred times over, and a hundred times more, all so he could live.

At that thought Metternich, for a moment, contemplate taking the 'easy' way out.

He doubted that hell could be any worse.

But it was only for a moment.

But then again...…..it was there, even if for only a moment.

After some more contemplation, Metternich banished those vile thoughts, since in his opinion life was always worth living and you had to do your best to get over you're more difficult moments and move on.

Even if sometimes you forgot that.

So he remembered happier times, if not happier faces.

Many died because of him, but many also lived and at the very least the civilians in the sectors that he fought would be protected from the opposing armies and fleets that he vanquished, so some good, in fact a lot of good, had come as a result of his actions.

Those thoughts did manage to raise his spirits and grace his lips, and his souls, with a smile.

That and the prospect of being turned into a corpse if he didn't snap out of it and get his act together, or the prospect of eternal hell actually being worse than the current 'hell 'for choosing the 'easy way', made him come to his senses.

Nothing like a good ol' fashioned dose of fear from the prospect of horrible pain, to snap one out of one's funk, and off your ass.

Releasing out a breath of mental exhaustion (and giving a mental chuckle at the last part) he placed the farview that he was using to research the culture of the Volunians on the table, and laid back and relaxed for a few minutes.

"A sad state of affairs this is Lord Metternich, this corps has a lot of outstanding warriors and officers, properly deployed it is deadly, yet it is being misused in a tertiary role in the war against Volunia!" Adrian lamented to his master as he took out a small box from his pocket, extracted a pill from it and swallowed the pill; breaking Metternich's state of mind with a not unwelcomed distraction from his less than cheerful thoughts.

"Don't linger too much on feelings of regret; think positive thoughts or you run the risk or seeing even the good side of life as meaningless." Metternich said, as he could guess just what kind of pills those were.

"Yes sir, but I'm still a little 'affected' by this state of affairs." Adrian replied.

"Don't be, I'm rather pleased myself." Metternich said to his knight.

"My lord?" Adrian asked in confusion, as he directed his gaze towards his liege.

"Why do you think I accepted this commission?"

"For the challenge?" Adrian said to his commander, with a smile of 'realization' gracing his face, to which Metternich decided to play along and give a nod of the head.

"But what I really meant to say is that here there is little chance of us being slaughtered by elite units from the enemy!." Metternich thought to himself.

The false nod of confirmation he gaze earlier made Adrian's smile grow in size to an almost predatory level.

This did not sit well with Metty, as his stomach, which always ached a bit when danger was approaching started to act up a bit after Adrian's facial gesture, but he kept his mouth shut.

That was the smart thing to do for any half decent officer that found himself in this kind of situation, and Metternich was a high ranking one.

"And so is Adrian!" Metternich thought to himself, as a potential revelation wormed his way into his head.

He looked at Adrian and started to wonder if his knight did not have certain 'problems' with the military lifestyle, like the ones Metty had, since Adrian always showed great doubt one moment and great resolve the next.

Despite him not being an expert on the behavior of Adrian's species, he wondered if not perhaps he was also wearing a mask; and since Metternich knew a thing or two about living a lie he could understand if sometimes you let the mask slip.

For a moment Metty contemplated coming clean with Adrian, maybe then with Adrian supporting his real self and not the fake one he put on for others he could find a way out of his current lifestyle and finally escape the wars of the empire!

But that was a train of thought for another time, especially since their warptrain was reaching its destination. This was broadcasted to them by a message from the train's speaker system, the announcement interrupting Metternich's thoughts and preventing a potential escape from his current situation..

"Another interruption from nowhere, another act of random chaos, or is it destiny that blunders my way out? Whomever it is I'm gonna sue someday, because I'm tired of always not being in control of my life, of being pushed around!"

Metternich thought to himself, resolve and resentment from what he had been through this past several years building up inside him, and becoming ready to burst, as the young commodore's communication crystal started vibrating, indicating that someone wanted to talk to him.

Metternich touched the crystal with his finger and it morphed into the small shape of a serpentine creature with grey scales that was dressed in the same manor of uniform as the two commodores were.

But instead of the tricorn caps which he and Adrian wore, this serpentine creature wore a side cap that made it clear he was a staff officer and not a command one.

His uniform stretched from his neck down to the end of his body, engulfing him entirely in the dark material, the sailor belonged to the Balfarmaini; sentients who where a serpent like race that had no arms or legs, but they made due with a very powerful telekinetic ability which allowed them to levitate and use objects close to their bodies.

This ability was very handy to the aforementioned Metty, since this was Lieutenant Butz his personal aide who had been with him for almost as long as Adrian had, and served as his assistant, driver, bodyguard, and whatever other role was needed.

This was pointed out by the fact that Butz's body was covered in all kinds of pouches filled with everything from food, to drink, to medicine and all kinds of objects and tools, anything that Metternich might need.

"Sir, the train has reached the base."

"Thank you Butz." Metternich said as he touched the farview at a certain point that started it's deactivation process, but not before putting a bookmark on were he had left off, namely on the painting named "Raindrops in the wind".

"Time to go Adrian. You said that this unit contains a lot of gifted officers?" he said to Adrian as they both got up from their seats and moved to exit the compartment.

Once inside the doorframe Metternich hesitated for a few moments, using the slight sway of the train as it stopped now fully, as an excuse for not moving; a few extra moments away from his duties, they did not seem much, but during wartime small victories like this mattered, especially in the long run.

Metternich stood there as long as he could plausible use the excuse of the train's movement to steal some peace, but he eventually he had to move.

After all, the inevitable could only be put off for so long.

"Yes my lord, the corps' commanders were all upper and lower classmates of mine at the academy and I can vouch for their skills. They are the finest soldiers in the Empire!" Adrian proudly said to his liege.

"Then why have they been sent here to a dumping ground unit?" Metternich asked him with genuine curiosity, thought he already thought of the answer before Adrian even heard his words.

"I have already told you the reason for that sire." Adrian replied with regret and disappointment in his voice.

"Smart officers sent away so those who are higher in rank but less in skill will not be outshined."

Metternich thought to himself and despite feeling a small sensation of joy, since it meant that it was even less likely that this would become the main theater of operations, he also lamented the sad state of affairs the Empire seemed to be in since the beginning of its existence, or at least since he arrived.

"On the one hand maybe they were sent here to keep them safe, a few light missions so they can be quickly promoted, maybe someone wants to make a future full fleet or even High Fleet using this as a foundation, it's plausible considering the way the politics here south of the Bracken-Droven line are going. But if so, why did they send me to command such an important unit?"

" No matter how many or how bright the stars are, they pale when compared to the sun, so the stars make sure no one sees the glory of the Sun.'" Metternich, before he could realize it, had quoted an ancient war poem to his knight.

"Yes Excellency, but 'no matter how long or endless the starry night is, it always surrenders to the sun's morning light'." Adrian replied to his liege and looked at him with a proud smile and hero worship in his eyes.

"You know you don't have to call me that, technically you've got better pedigree, fortune and rank than me; Hell! Up until three standard years ago I would be the one calling you my lord or something like that." Metternich said to him.

"That is one of the few positives of war my lord, injustices like what you said earlier are rectified as great leaders rise to take their rightful place in society!" Adrian replied happily.

"I consider myself a lucky man and an intelligent one rather than someone who has been blessed by heaven to be a leader Adrian."

"That may be sir, but even then there are few people with those attributes and even fewer that occupy positions of authority and now the Empire needs them more than ever, which is why I believe you're one who is destined for great things!" Adrian said and before Metternich could reply he added the following:

"The Great Founder of our Empire also said that she was lucky."

At this Metternich half opened his mouth to counter but decided against it.

Adrian was the type who was not only stubborn to a degree, but also very smart and well read, and by doing a quick onceover of the conversation he realized that he had just quoted the Great Founder and his attempt to deflate his image had been interpreted by Adrian as humility, something that people like Adrian took it as something that reinforced the image of the great heroes handpicked by the Force of Creation to lead the Empire to greatness.

Thus Metternich was now forced into another role, namely that of being a sort of mythical figure in the making, in the eyes of his knight.

"Made a punching bag by pirates, a hero by the press, a captain by a madman, and now a second coming by the one person I count on to keep me safe. Once more a path is forced upon me, once more I am not the master of my destiny. Once more...…......once more......."

He mentally lamented to himself, but said nothing; the time for words had passed.

So the Commodore only inhaled a deep breath of air, walked down the corridor and tried to enjoy what few peaceful moments he had left before arriving at the boarding ramp.

"I may as well quit while I'm ahead, I'll be needing every ounce of wit I posses in order to find a way to somehow survive here at the very edge of the civilized galaxy." Metternich thought to himself as he once more considered to fake some excuse as to waste a few more precious moments.

He could have done so as they arrived at the train's door

"Once more....…..

He should have done so as it opened.

"Once more....…..

He should have done as the ramp was extended.

"Once more into the breach….

He could have done so as the light from the world outside peered inside.

But he didn't.

"NO! Never again!"

Metternich now saw the light, gazed at it.

And made his choice.

For the first time in years Metternich chose to not give into the despair that plagued him for almost 3 years now.

There and then the young commodore could have used the sudden contrast between the light from outside and the darker state of the train cart in order to pretend to be blind sighted by it and steal a few extra moments away from having to go towards the war.

"No! No more outside factors deciding my actions! No more dancing to other peoples tunes. From hence forth I am the master of this orchestra of war!"

But like before, he chose differently.

Why?

Because it was time for changes to be made.

Up until this point destiny, his higher ranking officers, and a lot of bad luck had always dealt him wildcards, but nevermore!

Now he would be the one to take command, he would be the one to decide!

There and then Metternich Per Pelasgiamus declared to al the Butcher, the Grinder, Destiny and Nobody in particular than he was done being plaid as a fiddle, for he was taking control of his life and he and he alone would be forging the path before him!

The ramp morphed its surface into a set of stairs after it touched the base's floor, with that the way forward towards his destination was now straight, and stable.

Metternich 'the coward' stepped forward and the 'The Fox of Marengo stepped out of the door and into the light.

How would one describe his sudden action?

"NUTS!"