Chapter 9

Twelfth Star Guards Headquarters, Icar

Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth

August 13th 3049

Colonel Hannah Caitlin had been in the 12th Star Guards her entire life. She had taken over the 3rd Regiment from her father seven years prior and only now was feeling comfortable with the enormous responsibility. Fortunately, things were relatively quiet on Icar. They faced Periphery bandits, looking to raid for precious minerals and salvage, but the last three attempts in as many years were easily rebuffed. They had even secured an additional two 'Mechs!

As the old saying went, life was cheap, but BattleMechs were expensive. Having two in reserve in case anyone lost their 'Mech and joined the ranks of the dispossessed did a lot for morale. Their pay was decent enough, but it did little more than cover their cost of living, covered resupply and repairs, and allowed them to enjoy life a bit. Certainly not enough to replace 'Mechs wholesale.

As a mercenary, the nice part about this gig was their employer was never short on funds, so their agreed-upon pay was always met, and Hannah had full operational control. Her partner in defending the world from any threats was Leftenant-General Matt Thompson. An older man, a few years past retirement age, he graciously let his younger counterpart oversee their joint defense responsibilities.

I oversee a 'Mech regiment, and him only a brigade of armored vehicles. He knows which is the greater force.

Hannah knew that Thompson knew his stuff. While his men were a bit lax, they were still sharper than most planetary garrisons. The annual surprise drill revealed them to be a bit sluggish to get going, but once out there, their units moved well and their equipment was maintained properly. Hannah had been on other worlds where half the equipment of the local garrison was in disrepair. Most leaders, including herself, didn't think much of the combat capability of vehicles versus 'Mechs, so they were frequently the last to get adequate supplies. For the most part, they stayed out of each other's hair and met weekly at one of the nicer diners.

Sleepy Icar was about to change soon—royalty was coming. It hadn't been announced widely for general operational security concerns, but the Duke and Hannah had been informed. She had told her XO, Lt. Col. Jerad Rell, as well. Hannah didn't know what to think of the news or the unit that was wholly unnecessary to the world's defense, which would be joining them. The 1st NAIS Research Battalion, a reinforced artillery battalion with 'Mech and vehicle support? Hannah could only shake her head, wondering who could have possibly thought that was a good idea.

As for the princess herself, she had seen some of the holovids featuring her. She was a stunning teen beauty, but that didn't mean a damn thing when it came to leading a unit. She was supposed to have graduated from a bigshot academy on New Avalon, but that didn't mean much to her either. Thompson considered it a great honor, but Hannah didn't like complications.

It doesn't matter if she is competent or not anyhow; it isn't like we couldn't handle any banditry out here with what we already have. I just hope she doesn't try to get in the way.

The information coming from Lyran State Command made it clear that Hannah was still in full operational control. The NAIS unit would be under her orders in the event the planet came under attack, but outside of that, she was to let them be since they would be testing some fancy new artillery weapon.

It was nearing time for her first meeting, and Hannah had Jerry and Thompson with her. They had already met some of the FCIS agents who had combed over the area before her highness arrived. The cold-eyed spooks were polite and professional, but they still gave her the willies.

Two military vehicles pulled up as they stood awaiting the arrival of the princess. Out stepped a woman in a suit. Her hair was cropped short, and her eyes scanned the area relentlessly.

Another spook.

A few moments later she said something and then others exited the vehicle. The first was a young oriental woman of average height. Her AFFC uniform was perfectly smooth without any rumples, and Hannah could see the rank insignia indicating that she was a Leftenant. The next person to step out was a tall man with short dark hair wearing the rank of Hauptmann. Finally, Princess Katherine Steiner-Davion appeared, also pristine in her uniform.

The first thing Hannah noticed was her height. Katherine was not the tallest person on Icar, but she was the tallest woman Hannah had encountered on Icar. The holovids made her look thinner, but in person, she appeared more toned. She walked confidently into speaking distance and snapped a crisp salute.

"Col. Caitlin, I am Kommandant Steiner-Davion, reporting for duty."

Hannah returned a rough salute. One of the oddities of being within Lyran State Command and also being a mercenary. She wasn't a member of the AFFC, but in certain respects, she was supposed to ape their conduct.

That's what happens when you are contracted with the same nation for over a decade.

Thompson saluted properly; he was still part of the AFFC after all. They exchanged greetings, and Hannah introduced her XO and the Leftenant General. Katherine, in turn, introduced Hauptmann Sven Fischer, her XO and in command of the 2nd Artillery Company. She also introduced Leftenant Aiko Roth, one of her 'Mech lance commander and Agent Patricia Ainsworth as the head spook of her protective detail.

"We are glad to have you aboard, Kommandant," Hannah began. "The Periphery has been quiet, so you might be a little bored out here. Most of us are stationed at Cuanger, and places have been arranged for your battalion. It has a few restaurants near the spaceport, a cinema, and we have a few spots for drinking, singing, and dancing. Most of the miners are out near Fraserburg, 30 klicks away. If you want to visit the Duke or other high-society types, they're on the other continent. There are some civilian aircraft that can take you if you are interested."

The princess shook her head. "I will be quite busy precluding any such unnecessary side trips. Tell me, Col. Caitlin, how are your 'Mech simulators?"

She winced. "We have a lance of them, but they're ancient."

"I personally requisitioned a dozen of the 3039 NAIS series. I'll set up a schedule for when my company will be utilizing them – your regiment is more than welcome to make use of them when they are not occupied."

Wow, well, that will be a morale booster for sure. Boredom is the biggest problem here. JumpShips arrive from the AFFC to restock supplies for the armored brigade every six months. Civilian JumpShips arrive quarterly to haul off the mined ore as well as bring down consumer medicines and goods. With this rather spartan spaceport and limited entertainment options, discipline can sometimes be an issue. Using some fancy simulators will help ease some of that and make my troops sharper. Must be nice being royalty.

"Thank you, they will appreciate that." Hannah paused for a moment. "No disrespect intended, but do you view yourself first as a Kommandant or as a princess?"

"Princess," came the reply without hesitation. "That shouldn't change, within reason, how you treat me. I intend to work my people hard and stay out of your way. In the event of a bandit raid, I do wish for my battalion to participate. We have a new artillery system and a few new 'Mech designs and combat data would be invaluable. Barring that, I don't intend to interfere with how you run things here on Icar."

Hannah's esteem of Katherine was raised slightly; she was direct and laid her cards on the table. She wasn't going to expect bowing and scraping, and unless something went terribly wrong in the next two years, things were looking up.

***

Twelfth Donegal Guards Headquarters, Trell I

Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth

August 19th 3049

Victor was a Kommandant now, one of the more highly ranked officers in the Donegal Guards RCT on Trell. He glanced at the two pictures on his desk. One had the entire family, save for Katherine. Victor, his father, and his hulking brother Peter stood in the back row. Despite being younger, his brother had outstripped him in height. His mother sat in front of his father, with little Yvonne on her right and Arthur on her left. The second picture was of him and Katherine the day they beat his father in the simulator duel.

Do these pictures stir resentment? Renny and the other graduates from Nagelring received Leftenant commands, but because of who I am, I get a Kommandant posting at the age of nineteen. Most officers will never reach battalion-level command, let alone before turning twenty.

He was resentful of being posted in the back-end of nowhere. His father had said Theodore Kurita had stationed his son, Hohiro Kurita, the future Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, far from the border as well. He was on Turtle Bay, and in his father's eyes, this was a signal from the Kanrei that no imminent hostilities would occur between their two nations. Instead, he intended to leave their future conflict to their sons. Hanse Davion, the ruler of the Federated Suns, did not wish for conflict at this time and had reciprocated the gesture, much to Victor's annoyance. His father had explained his reasoning, and Victor had agreed with it. It was still frustrating.

A knock on his door revealed a slender, sandy-haired man who saluted. "Hauptmann Galen Cox reporting, sir."

Victor returned the salute, shook hands with the man, and then gestured toward one of the chairs for him to sit.

"Is there something I can do for you, Hauptmann?"

"I'm reporting for duty, Kommandant. I am your aide."

Victor kept his face smooth. He had already told Leftenant-General Hawksworth that he only needed a clerk, just like the other Kommandants. He didn't want any further special treatment setting him apart. He had even refused Secretary Allard's protective detail, insisting it wasn't necessary given military security. Victor had eventually won that battle, but he suspected FCIS agents were undercover somewhere on base, regardless of his wishes.

Galen Cox was having none of that. He explained politely, but firmly, that the regiment was concerned about such a young officer having that sort of responsibility. While Trell was relatively quiet, being so close to the Periphery and the FRR, action did occur. A baby-faced Leftenant might get jitters during their first taste of combat and screw things up for a lance, but the problem would be even worse at the battalion level of command. They didn't know if Victor would freeze, ignore the objectives, flee, give contradictory orders, or what. And so, Galen had volunteered to essentially nursemaid Victor.

This is insulting, but I can't blame them. I'll just have to prove them all wrong.

"Very well, Galen. Since I'm stuck with you, let's make sure we work together well. I want to ensure this unit is in tip-top shape," Victor promised.

"A fine idea, but my advice is to go easy at first. You don't want to come across as if you have something to prove, as it might breed resentment."

Victor sighed. "I suppose not everyone will be like my sister."

Galen raised a curious eyebrow at the remark.

"My sister, Katherine, is a fantastic 'Mech pilot. When we trained back home, she was always eager to improve. Not only did she tolerate my brotherly advice, but she actively sought it out. To be honest, helping her fix her flaws made me examine my own and made me better. Given that we might all be called to risk our lives, why wouldn't we want to be the absolute best we could be?" Victor grinned. "Those were her words, but they resonated with me. But morale is also key to ensuring our unit fights well, so I won't ignore your advice. We'll ease into it first."

His new aide smiled back at him as he rose from his chair. "I've read your file, Kommandant. No one's ever posted scores like you at the Nagelring. If you fight on the field like you do in the simulator, I doubt any of us will be able to keep up with you."

As the Hauptmann left his office, Victor wondered how Katherine was doing in her command role. Her command was more independent than a battalion within an RCT, but she was two-and-a-half years younger than he was, making her only sixteen. He hoped her unit wouldn't give her too hard of a time or think they could override her orders. Katherine could be insistent, but she also disliked conflict, and he worried they would take advantage of her good nature and desire to please. If they just gave her a chance to truly lead, he knew she would do great.

Next year, I'll get some leave. Trell isn't that far from Icar. I wonder if we could see each other in person? Hmm, I hate using my birth to pull strings, and setting up a short command circuit just to see my sister feels like a ridiculous act of privilege, but the thought is tempting.

***

Icar

Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth

August 30th 3049

Corporal Aaron Keegan wanted to die. Icar had a higher gravity than his last duty station and on top of that the Princess from Hell was trying to kill them all with a death march. He operated comms and radar as part of a Partisan Heavy Tank crew! Why was he helping lug a several hundred pound component part for an artillery tube through this mountainous terrain? Over a dozen of the armored company had hands on it, but one slip up and he could break a leg.

Not to mention the exhaustion after carrying it for over five miles with only two short hydration breaks.

"What did we do? Why does she hate us?" moaned another member of the company.

"Shut… up… she's close, she'll hear you."

Aaron almost didn't care anymore. This was torture, and for what? He sat in a vehicle, looked at information, and operated sophisticated equipment. He wasn't the fucking infantry. The last month had been an absurd whirlwind of PT, small arms training, continuing education bullshit, and not a spare moment to do anything. Now he was out in the middle of nowhere, hounded to march faster and warned about dangerous wildlife. Despite being arms certified, they weren't even given real weapons to defend themselves—just a damned trainee laser pistol that wouldn't do shit but cause mild irritation. What the fuck?

He stumbled, and the weight shifted to the others. They nearly toppled over the tube component, which could have caused serious injury. Fortunately, his crewmates managed the heavier load, and he struggled to his feet.

"Taking a break, are we?"

The Kommandant's voice pierced the air like a whipcrack, making the team almost instinctively attempt to salute – only to realize they couldn't with the load on their shoulders.

"No Kommandant!" he shouted quickly.

"I won't have shirkers in my unit, Corporal Keegan. When you decide to take a nap, the rest of your unit has to pick up your slack."

"It was an accident, Kommandant. I will watch my step in the future."

"See that you do. Carry on. You'll need to pick up the pace if you're going to make it to the designated campsite. If you don't arrive within the next two hours, there will be no rations this evening. Now, march!"

Aaron wanted to scream at the blond-haired bitch. This was not what he had signed up for when he joined the 23rd Arcturan Guards. Being sent to the edge of nowhere to suffer was not fair. It just wasn't. Despite his inner monologue, he exhorted his comrades to push harder. He would be damned if he was going to go to bed hungry tonight after all this effort!

Somehow, they pushed through and made it in time. As dusk began to set in, the Kommandant picked up a speaker and amplified her voice across the camp. "In 30 seconds, you will come under attack. If you are struck by a laser, fall to the ground, and remain there until the exercise is over."

Aaron grabbed his trainee laser and sought cover. He saw others milling around and called to them. Aching, weary limbs slowed them down, and then the attackers came – a deadly crossfire of lightly burning shots caught the fatigued soldiers of the 1st Armored Company. Aaron managed to tag two before being brought down, but when the final count was established, the company had only managed to take down five of the attackers.

That led to another speech about what a pathetic excuse for a soldier the company was. Hauptmann Arianna Wright, the leader of the company, stood stone-faced as she listened to the exercise.

One of the other crew members shouted, "This is not what we were trained for! I'd like to see you do better."

"Who said that?" Hauptmann Wright cried out in fury.

The Kommandant grinned. It was a horrifying visage of pure malevolence. "Oh, it doesn't matter who. They're all thinking it. You want to see the brass get their hands dirty, eh? Fine, but there are consequences. We'll do the same exercise, and your crew will be the attackers after we've marched the same equipment, the same distance. We'll camp, and you'll give us the same 30-second warning before you attack. You can choose whenever in the night to act." Her grin turned malevolent, making Aaron physically take a step back. "But if you lose, you'll be doubling your PT and range time, and your R&R will be cancelled for the quarter. What will it be?"

Aaron couldn't help himself. "What do we get if we win?"

"Corporal Keegan," his CO started to growl.

"No, no, that's a great question. Stakes must be fair, after all. If your side wins, you won't have to do any more of these marches with the Spitfire Cannon parts for the next six months. You'll also all get a bonus to your pay." She stepped forward, eyes locked on his. "What will it be?"

Aaron looked around, and almost everyone agreed – they would take that chance.

It will be worth it to see the damn officers try to lug this shit around!

In hindsight, they should have never taken the deal. Not only did the Kommandant, her Hauptmanns, and Lieutenants make it look almost easy to carry the component, but they also trounced them – even when attacking in the wee hours of the morning. It had been a massacre.

The mood was sour, but there was now a level of respect for the Kommandant. She had gotten her hands dirty, carrying the weight along with her subordinates the entire time. Her accuracy with the laser pistol was frightening. This was no pampered princess, but a tough-as-nails bitch who would gut anyone standing in her way.

She may not be liked, but she is respected and feared.

After the hellish ordeal was completed, things got better. They were used to marching and carrying heavy loads. All of them were now certified in small arms and rifles. The top shots of each lance would also receive a bonus each quarter, something that really got the competitive juices flowing. Some luxuries arrived as well – chocolates, premium coffee, and more. The only requirement to partake was to pass the required training times, accuracy levels, and job competency components.

Aaron also received a commendation for speaking up the way he had, which was added to his file. The battalion was very different from what he had thought it would be, but all in all, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

***

Twelfth Star Guards Headquarters, Icar

Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth

November 3rd 3049

I was pleased with how the battalion was coming along. They were by no means equivalent to the Imperial 203rd Mage Battalion, but they were improving. Discipline had tightened, competition to improve performance had been achieved, and their core efficiency had improved remarkably. The NAIS and machinists from TharHes had arrived, and the testing of the Spitfire Cannons had turned out well. They already had a list of changes to make at the factory, and the NAIS researchers were excited about applying the quick-assembly technology to larger field pieces.

They were still quartered in the large collection of buildings that made up the 12th Star Guards HQ, but there was plenty of room. Colonel Caitlin had stayed out of my way and was thrilled with the simulator time. She had challenged us to a friendly duel, and I watched with pride as Leftenant Roth and LeBeau obliterated Hannah's command lance. Part of the reason was that Roth and LeBeau piloted prototype WLF-2 Wolfhounds. TharHes held the rights to the 'Mech design but had contracted Eire MechWorks of Arc-Royal for the actual production. The two in her company were the Alpha designs, and some flaws had been discovered.

Thankfully, we had some experienced techs and very intelligent NAIS researchers with us. The faulty Double Heat Sink cooling was fixed, as was the alignment on the ER Large Laser. We passed along the design notes to our friends on Arc-Royal, and they were going to make the necessary adjustments prior to mass production. When those 'Mechs started rolling out in 3052, I was sure almost every light lance would want as many as they could get their grubby hands on.

Meanwhile, the Star Guards had a variety of old 'Mechs, none of which had the recent improvements. Colonel Caitlin piloted an aging Wolverine that was twenty tons heavier than the Wolfhound, but the Wolfhound boasted more firepower. The Star Guards had a few other medium 'Mechs at that weight, but only a handful. The vast majority of their regiment consisted of lighter mediums and light 'Mechs – not a single heavy or assault-class among them.

As for my 'Mech, I may not have asked for an assault-class, but it was still plenty expensive, especially after I had them redesign the weapon loadout and reposition the jump jets. The base model was a PHX-3D, but I replaced the two medium pulse lasers with medium lasers, freeing up some tonnage for additional armor and the improved jump jets.

The PHX-3DK was probably a 'Mech that only I could pilot. Well, others could if they were very skilled, but they would still have to re-learn how to utilize its jump capabilities. Jump jets tend to be rather uniform, designed to allow a 'Mech to jump. They carry enough thrust to lift my nearly fifty-ton 'Mech into the air and then land safely. That sort of power was incredible – and yet no one had thought to use it for horizontal movement!

Now, there were reasons why. The Neurohelmet and Gyroscope worked full-time to keep a 'Mech upright. Running at a 'Mech's top speed had caused more than one novice MechWarrior to fall. Applying horizontal thrust while running? Incredibly difficult! As was designing the switch that allowed them to transition from horizontal to vertical without losing effective power.

The NAIS design team was convinced I was mad, but after many hours of practice and programming a simulator to adequately demonstrate how it would work, I was able to show them I could pilot something like that. This didn't allow me to zip around the battlefield like an Imperial Mage, hah, I wished, but it did make me far more maneuverable than your average medium 'Mech. I could increase my max speed significantly for a short duration or, if I feathered my jump jets, sustain a 10% prolonged increase in distance. The best part was my ability to move my 'Mech in unexpected ways to avoid fire. Aiko was my most frequent training partner, and it took her some time to get the hang of targeting me when I cut in a different direction.

My weapons were all distributed on the left side of my 'Mech. This setup allowed me to use my right arm for physical attacks without risking the integrity of my weapon systems. It also meant I could freely expose my right side, confident that I wouldn't lose any weapon systems if I took critical damage.

Today, I had gathered my officers for a staff meeting.

"Hauptmann Halstead, report your unit readiness status."

"We are at 97% effectiveness. Two of my men have a stomach bug, and one of the Spitfire Cannons has bore damage to the barrel, which is proving tricky for the techs. It will still fire, but its deviating over 80 meters off from the rest. If we can't fix it soon we'll just replace it completely, we have the parts."

"Hauptmann Fischer?"

"All green, Kommandant. We don't have those new contraptions. The ole Thumper is a tried-and-true, battle-tested piece of craftsmanship."

I gave him a brisk nod. He was in love with that old piece of technology, something that would hopefully be replaced by my Spitfire Cannons.

"Hauptmann Wright?"

"Personnel-wise, we are good. One of the treads on a Scorpion Light Tank is fouled and will take a few days to repair. We're good on ammo with the last shipment, and our stockpile is more than we could probably use in a month-long campaign."

I confirmed that my own 'Mech company had no issues before moving on to Leftenant Rogers, who was tasked with protecting our base of operations.

"Kommandant, we got some mild pushback over the ocular scans for entry. Some of the 12th Star Guards find it 'creepy' and didn't want to cooperate. Col. Caitlin cleared that up. We now have access across the entire compound. We've put cameras around here, the spaceport, and redirected one of the media satellites to monitor our location. A seismic sensor array has been added as well, and we've started drilling with Leftenant-General Thompson's MPs."

"Good work," I reply. "I understand you wish to requisition machine gun turrets? I'm not sure they'll provide any real value. If bandits come with 'Mechs, they'll just be glorified pillbox targets to be taken out at range."

I had to be mindful of the budget. Even though it was generous, I couldn't go obscenely overboard and still claim my unit's performance was an honest assessment of how other artillery battalions would function.

Zach replied, "That's a valid point, Kommandant. That said, my platoon is here for physical security against potential threats that aren't 'Mechs. Those turrets could be useful for taking down VTOLs carrying DEST commandos, for instance."

Hauptmann Halstead grimaced. "Why do you have to put that sort of bad juju on us, Leftenant? That's a foul ball, trying to bring up the Kommandant's family being attacked like that in '39."

I appreciated the defense, but it was unnecessary, as were those turrets. Still, leadership was a give and take.

"I'm not convinced, and I've rejected the request for eight. Our budget can afford two, and I'll leave it up to you where they should be placed. When we ship out in '51, we'll have left this installation in a slightly better defensive situation, which will earn us some appreciation and justify the cost."

As unlikely as it was that the good opinion of the 12th Star Guards or the Third Icar Armored Brigade would ever matter, it didn't hurt to cultivate strong professional working relationships. A good reputation for being a team player was never a bad thing.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Ainsworth, any updates?"

"No specific threats to watch for. The media's picked up that you and your unit are on Icar. However, we've planted false sightings of you on nearby worlds and spread rumors that you were visiting your brother on Trell." Ainsworth's eyes sparkled with amusement. "And, not the FCIS's doing, but some media outlets believe you're in the FRR, having a clandestine relationship with Prince Ragnar Magnusson."

Aiko and Gregory began laughing while I felt my eyelid twitch.

"How? Why?" I asked, exasperation clear in my voice.

"We're on the border with the FRR, and he gave a recent interview where he mentioned how nice you were and how you always gave him good advice. The FRR media outlets liked the story and ran with it. Wotan Command knows it's false, of course, and it hasn't really been picked up by the Lyran media, who think Prince Ragnar is a bit of a pauper prince and not really suitable."

"He's also only fourteen – a child!" I said, clearly annoyed.

"You're only sixteen," Aiko oh so helpfully pointed out. Judging by the surprised looks on my other officer's faces, I think they forgot my actual age.

"I turn seventeen this month," I said, giving her a pointed look. "It's irrelevant anyway; I correspond with him regularly, that's all."

Ainsworth had the idea of ensuring foreign powers couldn't pinpoint my location with my deployment. She was being paranoid, but that was her job, so it was fine. A few false sightings and bogus rumors didn't cause any real issues. My chain of command knew I wouldn't go AWOL or pull rank, so as long as that was clear, everything was good.

I turned to Nick Westfield, one of the NAIS scientists who had helped design the Spitfire Cannon.

"Field reports are all solid. We're ready to launch a second version for testing. It will be about a year before we get a new supply. We've proven that the Spitfire Cannon assembly time works in the field. Components can be carried by infantry, motorized infantry, VTOLs, ordinance transport, and we've even tested your 'Mech dragging them in the field. Another avenue is civilian air transport, and I'd like to test how functional parachuting them into already fixed positions could be."

Some interesting ideas. Making use of non-military assets in an emergency is the kind of out-of-the-box thinking I like to hear.

"Excellent. Please continue forwarding the data to me. This deployment has been a success so far; let's make sure it stays that way."

The Spitfire Cannon was doing well, and Lyran State Command had ordered more. Kai had convinced his mother to hear out my proposal, and the St. Ives Compact had ordered two battalions of them as well. Not a large order, but they weren't a large economy. Morgan Kell of the Kell Hounds had ordered a solitary company of Spitfire Cannons, which was nice of him. They were primarily a 'Mech outfit, but perhaps they wanted to beef up their base on Summer.

Either that or he's just being friendly. The Kells are rich enough; regardless, it is good for business.

I had already hit the first stretch target and was hopeful for the rest in time. The big barrier was the lack of data from actual combat. I was one who always valued peace, but I almost wished something would happen out here on Icar just so I could give a battle report with the Spitfire Cannon performance. That was the only reason I would ever want a conflict to happen on a world I was on.

I noticed Hauptmann Sven Fischer hanging back as the rest left.

"Can I help you Hauptmann Fischer?"

"Please don't think I'm just sucking up, Kommandant," he began, "but I just wanted to say I had some initial doubts about you. When you came in and pushed everyone to the limit, I thought we'd be near mutiny, but you clearly knew what you were doing."

I leaned back and steepled my hands. "One can learn much from history." Recalling past lessons, I paraphrased, "It was once said that a wise leader must balance severity and clemency, knowing it is better to start tough and, as people grow accustomed to order, adopt leniency when it is earned. By making it clear that I would accept nothing less than the best, they had a choice – rise to the occasion or end their careers. Once they passed muster, rewards for loyal service followed – bonuses, greater amenities, and future career progression."

Sven thought about that for a second before responding. "I can understand that philosophy, but it does run some risks."

"Agreed, but nothing ventured, nothing gained."

We chatted about a few minor issues before he departed. I was pleased to have won over the people under my command. They were doing good work and swiftly proving themselves as exceptional meat shields.