049. Iris and Guðlaug deal with matters

March 2992, New Oslo.

Iris Steiner, as a cadet, had not fought on the Battle of New Oslo, as they called it. They hadn't needed the manpower. 

Instead, she had continued her education... the battle taking place on the other side of the planet. The shock, however, continued to reverberate through the planet.

Still, that did not mean she was not up-to-date on what had happened, not when images of her fiancé were posted about the noosphere (she wasn't sure why Huu had been so insistent on calling the digital web this name). The image of an Armsman with the crest that Huu had adopted upon their engagement. A cracked egg on a purple, iris flower.

The shield cracked and pitted, the armour barely holding on. Yet, standing tall, ready, facing a tunnel from which Combine Armsman were rushing forth. His broad shoulders, a bulwark of security.

The photograph, taken during the battle, hid nothing of the brutality of war. The bodies underneath his feet, the blood coating everything underfoot, and Huu himself liberally. The way, there was nowhere to stand, and so they stood on the corpses of their comrades, trying to find their footing in the slippery hell that was tunnel fighting. Yet, the idea of their King, fighting in the inglorious, filthy battles in the tunnels? That had ignited a patriotic fervour in the people of Rasalhague. Truly, the idea that he was eschewing the traditional role of a noble in a Battlemech, instead choosing to stand where the fighting was fiercest had simply poured fuel into the fire. 

A warrior king. 

Of course, she knew, the Veelvraat would have dragged him out of there, not allowing him to continue the fight with armour that pitted and damaged. Not when exosuit combat was so lethal.

Already, the holo-capture of him sitting on a makeshift throne made of empty ammunition cases. Was being made the signature 'standby' image for anyone who wished to be seen as 'cool'. Leaning back on the boxes, right arm loosely by his waist holding his pick near the head. Bouncing it gently up and down in his palm. Left hand, face down, near chest height. The sight of Voidy as it lazily swam around his neck, like a bladed scarf. 

His Armsman suit pitted and scarred, myomer visible in many different locations, yet the cracked egg on lily motif remained unblemished on his right breast. The damaged armour plate laying carelessly about him as his Veelvraat worked to replace the pieces as necessary, leaving the chest for last. The chipped and pitted kite shield, upside down, leaning against his leg. Facing partially away from the camera.

Around him there was the scene of a command centre with its array of cables and individuals working away inside. The dull blue lighting dancing off the many imperfections of the armour, the fluorescent bulbs overhead barely sufficient to lift the shadows cast by his form. 

The caption 'A King Waits' was certainly poetic enough.

Enough for Iris to secretly enjoy it in private. 

While she had concerns... worry... a great deal of worry about him being a warmonger par none, the fact that he had shown greater concern for his people than that of prosecuting a war?

She thought, the solution Katrina, George, and herself had aimed for... had worked out, now that she looked at it in light of his fierce protection of his people. The desire for peace for continued prosperity, winning over his need to wage war.

The sheer, mind-numbing anger he had displayed when said people were threatened by an external enemy. Something he confessed to her on one of their weekly dates.

Which, really, should have been obvious from the sheer amount of effort he put into improving the lives of his citizens. They came before all other considerations to the King, her fiancé. He could allow many other concerns, difficulties, wars, conflicts. But anything that hurt his people? An inimical rejection that was straight from the heart. 

Really, George's idea of making him King had been perfect. Giving him his own people to worry about, had indeed worked out far better than they could have ever imagined.

A small voice in the back of her head asked if being the Archon was really so bad. 

Then reality smacked the voice in the head, kicked it in the ovaries, and shoved it into a dumpster. Iris knew what kind of person she was. Heir to Furillo was one thing, heir to the Commonwealth? 

Just how much would be expected of her in that case, exactly?

She knew her limits. 

In any case, Amelie Gipps and Marie Francoeur were seated in the same room as she was. Her living room, that had been colonised. As third year cadets, they had a great deal more freedom. Freedom to embrace the School of Conflict's oldest traditions of looting where possible. Reducing costs by mooching off others in this circumstance. 

Her upperclassmen sitting in her room, nibbling on snacks, watching movies on her screen, playing on her Recreational Holographic Environment (RHE) device. Imported from Kensai Holographiks in the Free Worlds League. The premier holo-sensory producer in the Inner Sphere. 

Well, Gipps was. Marie had paused the video to watch Gipps... possible make a fool of herself.

Heir to the planetary duchy of Barcelona, the Graf was wearing the sensory equipment that served to trick the body into thinking it was in a different reality. The small device in the centre of the ceiling, overlaying a different environment on the already existing objects in the room.

Visored head shifting side to side, her left arm held out as if it were holding a shield. The right hand clenched as if gripping some kind of weapon. 

With a grunt, Amelie lunched forth, punching with her left hand, the haptic system vibrating and stopping her arm in its tracks, the harness tightening as it did so. Even as this was happening, the right arm moved in an upwards arc, fist pointing towards the ground. Then it came up and down again, as if she was trying to hammer in a nail. 

Left arm forgotten, the small harness over her body serving to push the limb up and out of the way of an invisible attacker before Amelie froze. 

"Dead!" Chortled Marie.

The battle scene was only visible to the third year cadet, the environment being the only part that the watchers could see. 

But, really, Iris knew what the other duchy heir was experiencing. The small devices attached to her neck, and spine, allowing the young woman to experience fully what Huu Eggers had experienced. The feeling of dryness in the mouth, the uncomfortable sensation of armour on flesh, the sweat dripping down the nape of his neck, the echoes of his breath in the armour, the rising humidity that the filters couldn't handle. The sickening sensation felt through the hand as pick punctured suit, myomer, skin, flesh, and bone. The panicked striking on the shield, the terror from feeling said shield getting lighter as piece after piece was ablated off.

The sensory data collected from the Armsman through the Heimdall System (that she had been read in on), enough to recreate this and disseminate it to all of Rasalhague.

And... for a fee, the rest of the Lyran Commonwealth.

She herself had experienced the holo-sensory experience. Had understood then, just how... intense it was, how terrifying it was. And how deeply Huu cared about the people of New Oslo. That he would willingly do this multiple times, despite never having been trained in an Armsman suit, not even been conscripted to serve. 

One hundred percent volunteer work... and he had done it willingly to protect those he considered his. 

After what he had done to protect his family on Blackjack, he was doing the same in the here and now to protect his Kingdom.

After their weekly meetings, their... little rendezvouses... where they did things like... holding hands and leaning on one another. Huu being surprisingly puritan about the whole affair. For a young male, that is. Rather, it really did seem to Iris, he was much more concerned about emotional closeness than he was about physical or carnal needs.

In any case, they had met enough times for her to feel confident about this marriage match going forward. It was why she had been invited to discuss the matter with his inner circle. The matter of his betrayal by a select few of the Inner Circle. 

Was it betrayal if they were doing it at the behest of his own Liege Lord, the Archon? The semantics of it, as well as the legality of it, didn't matter. Trust had been broken, for the good of the Commonwealth, yes, but... trust had been broken all the same.

Some assumed, for some strange reason, thought he would have known about it. Thought he was some kind of god of foresight.

No, no, he wasn't. 

Really, if she, could tell that he was rather socially blind and dense despite not being near him constantly like they were. What excuse did they have for misunderstanding him so much?

He had no more idea that this was happening any more than they did. Well, the they that wasn't Phan Eggers, Marzio Cocci, Kommodore Marci Tandevaal and Margrave Winston Munster. The LCAF officers attached to the Rasalhague region and his EDF officers taking cues from their leadership. Acting on behalf of Alessandro, on his orders, to set it all up. What did they think would be his reaction to it?

The betrayal by his people, of his liege lord?

She shook her head as Marie had a go of the holo-experience. Peeling off the sensory attachments on Amelie with quite a bit more intimacy than that which was required for such a simple task.

Now they were waiting to see what he was going to do. 

Iris, being close enough to Huu for them to feel confident. Had been brought in to discuss the matter from the perspective of the Archon as a member of House Steiner.

Really, Alessandro, just tell him beforehand. Trading the Combine-owned Rasalhague worlds, in exchange for allowing Takashi's old guard to die honourably. Now he had probably made an enemy for life. One that would do anything to see him kicked off the throne for what had been done to New Oslo. That he had done it in this way, wasn't it simply because he wasn't willing to share the 'glory' of victory with Rasalhague? To gain some kind of glorious victory to outweigh his failures at Kalidasa? An attempt to... win back the public's trust?

Those, she suspected of being Lyran Intelligence, would need to decide where their loyalties lay. 

Alessandro, their Archon who was acting, increasingly out of self-interest. Or Huu, their King, acting for the benefit of his people, no matter the cost. 

She shook her head, more personal issues were taking up her mind. The marriage ceremony had been set for February. But now, she needed to re-organise the whole affair. Mother would help, of course, but this was her marriage. It would be done her way!

Seriously, there were calls for a victory march as well as a wedding, it was going to balloon in scale. Or, in other words, a pain in the ass that threatened to make this a circus and not an actual wedding.

"Oooh, wait. Priority television message...?" Marie asked, stopping in her placement of the sensory pads. Her wrist-mounted computer vibrating with an alert. Looking up at the screen and trying to remember where she had placed her remote. 

"Here," Iris said, pressing the 'on' button.

Immediately, the sound of cheering filled the room.

"Good morning! This is the 23rd of March, 2992 on the world of Casere! Formerly of the Combine! I am Sille M. Villadsen nee Mardsen, and I'm here to bring to news, to you, the people of the Lyran Commonwealth! On behalf of Eggers Media News Service, I bring you the capitulation of Casere and the end of the New Oslo retribution offensive! As of this very moment, we have confirmation that all the worlds of the Rasalhague Consortium, before being absorbed by the Combine, have been captured! Many worlds that were part of the Rasalhague Military District have also been captured. The Rasalhague Kingdom has expanded by 20 worlds in the last two months. The largest and fastest military campaign in the history of the Inner Sphere!" 

The wild voice of Sille came from the television, her face, smoke smudged face visible to the camera. Grinning wildly as she waved her arms. 

Behind her, stood Huu on a platform. Opposite him was probably the duke of the planet, given just how... well-made his clothes were. All Combine officials and nobles wore extremely subdued designs, brown with different liners or stripes to denote their station. It was in the cut of cloth that one could tell just how high ranked they were. 

This was one was wearing imports from the Commonwealth, the leather, she recognised, as coming straight from Tharkad's mountain goats. The fur lining underneath had a distinct pattern to it, one Iris, as a Steiner could recognise, it was the exact same as her own personal jacket!

"We are here now to complete the signing of the peace! Behind them is the Smialy, piloted by Marzio Cocci." The cameraman highlighted the four metre tall machine sitting on the ground. Arms by its side, legs askew. The cylinder that made up its chest... cracked open. The body inside a charred corpse. 

"Falling in the last minutes of the battle, our Eggers Defence Force head followed his King all the way here to Casere. Some have criticised him for abandoning the operational command of the operation to come here. But if he hadn't, then our King would not be here today. Stepping in to protect the King with his Smialy at the last moment, taking a PPC shot that would have struck and mortally wounded King Eggers. While his being on Casere will remain a mystery, we are thankful of his presence." 

The two came forward, one a king, the other a duke. A piece of paper was set between them.

"With this, the campaign is over and the integration of these worlds into the Rasalhague Kingdom will begin! We are sure, despite the death of Margrave Winston Munster, newly instated to command the New Oslo Theatre, that the Rasalhague Kingdom will continue to go from strength to strength!" 

Oh. 

Her fiancé... was rather more brutal than she was expecting. 

He was very non-confrontational. Hated trying to argue in-person, it was just not one of his strengths. Or anything he felt confident in. Thinking, stewing... and then acting afterwards? This was how he handled matters.

But.

Uh.

"Wow, Marzio and Winston at the same time? Why were they even on the frontline, who did they piss off?" Marie asked, leaning back on the floor from where she was sitting. Rocking back and forth as she did so. 

"Yeah, who." Amelie muttered, eyes flicking to Iris and back.

Marie turned her head and noticed.

"No? Seriously? What did they do!?" 

"Why don't you ask Queenie over here. Holy shit, what did they do to get a Military Order?" 

Iris grimaced.

Military Order, the understanding that orders on the battle have the chance of getting you killed. Anything referred to as a 'Military Order' then... meant that it was essentially a suicide mission. 

"I want to know how whoever it is got Winston to die. He was Margrave of the New Oslo Theatre right? There are nine... no, ten of them now in the whole of the Commonwealth. Like, seriously, it goes, Archon to Margrave to lowly Kommandant-General. They give the orders right, when it comes to the military, everyone except Generals of the Armies and the Archon has to listen to them. So, how, exactly, did a Margrave head to the front-line and get themselves killed?" Amelie, pondered, her own mother as Duchess of Barcelona, was under the authority of General Marti Lyons of the Bones Theatre. She knew that it wasn't her mother that controlled the LCAF or Militia forces in the area, it was General Marti.

"Ehhh, don't bother asking her. Iris hasn't been married into the family yet, they won't be sharing all the secrets with her yet." 

Iris for her part shook her head. A vicious satisfaction within her gut, for as much as they were family, Alessandro and herself. She was about to become someone else's family, part of the Eggers family, and they also had her loyalty. Where one had clearly wronged the other, she would join the wounded side. And with two of the instigators of this entire farcical conflict dead, she wondered what would happen to the others, one being his father, the other being a Kommodore of the navy.

They were all interrupted as the video continued to play. 

"We are about to... wait. What are those!?" 

On screen figures clad in civilian clothes rushed out of the crowd and onto the stage. The Veelvraat moved with incredible efficiency, butchering most of them. But there were 12 against 50 or more. Only one needed to succeed. Iris' heart was in her throat, as the seconds dragged out into eternity.

And then.

A miracle.

The Smialy, ruined, cracked, the pilot inside very much actually dead, raised its right arm, mounting the rapid QF 2 pounder. Six rounds were boomed out, the first three actually hit the assassins, the rest went high. The rounds ripping through the packed assailants and easing the pressure of flesh. The Veelvraat, finishing off the rest before they could do anything else. Hastily pushing the crowd aside, their presence likely an insistence of Huu. It seemed the kind of thing he would do.

The machine fell silent, arm by its side. 

The creeping quiet.

The cautious movement of the honour guard. 

None were willing to come near the... impossibility. 

"Black Pearl." Whispered Sille on screen, the mythos of the Battlemaster that lived again, to fight again, loomed in their minds. A dead pilot, in a crippled machine... that still delivered one final blow for the Commonwealth.

There was a pause of silence.

"You know, given the fact your fiancé has a literal hyper-dimensional squid attached to him, you would expect something like this to not be shocking. But... uh... that's still, really freaky." Marie finally said into the silence. 

Iris nodded, she wasn't going to disagree. 

+_+

March 2992, Casere

Guðlaug Jónasdóttir looked with satisfaction at the reports that had been read to her. Standing on the bridge of the Providence Jumpship Eggers, flagship of Eggers Shipping. 

The Wolverines, for their loyalty to their King, had been left out of the conversation, the planning, the entire situation. Being sent a movement order, and accepting it as per standard traffic controls. 

Then being told, as the jumpships arrived into system, in rather candid terms... that they were forbidden, per Margrave Winston Munster's orders to attack the inbound dropships. On pain of the treason of disobeying the Archon's authority. The LCAF-Navy's assets positioned threateningly near their own ships. 

The Wolverines would have made a break for it regardless, but they did not have the numbers. Did not have the strength. Not when most of Eggers Shipping was not of their bloodname, not of the Clans. Did they have the numbers? No, no they did not.

And so, they had stewed with impotence as the Lyran Commonwealth had served to betray the Great Father. The LCAF and LIC cutting him out of the conversation, on orders of the Archon. He wanted them nowhere near this victory, this was to be his glorious action to win back the respect of the 'warrior and civilian castes' or, in the words of the Inner Sphere, the military and civilians. It had not worked at all, not when their King had marched into the tunnels to fight with hammer and shield. His image spreading across the Commonwealth, the traitor Archon's influence nowhere to be found. 

They had only being let in on the 'grand plan' in the last few minutes, having to come up with justifications for its existence, by order of the Archon. Betraying their oaths as they did so. Betraying the Great Father, in that meeting. A shame all would bear until their ends, a shame that had been written into the Remembrance Saga for all to know, for as long as there were Wolverines.

Until word had come from Vice-Lord Mairi, he had told their King of the truth. The truth that had him furious. So much so, that, for the first time, he had commanded the Wolverines to act as his claws.

The Great Father wanted retribution for the ones that had brought this upon his people. To ensure the lesson was learnt, and that this did not happen again in the future.

Kommodore Marci Tandevaal had died when his Providence Class Jumpship suffered a misjump. Strangely enough, all of the Eggers Shipping crew members were absent when the ship left the Spittal System en-route to Casere. 

None had survived. 

The Margrave had found himself being sent a message from the 'Archon' to carry his flag into battle. Winston Munster had found his drop-pod failing. One of... several... containing certain officers. The Atlas he was travelling in serving as his tomb. His body... explosively deconstructing upon impact. 

And now Marzio. Given a military order by King Eggers himself, had accomplished the objective grandly. 

Dying in place of their Lord, redeeming himself in the process. 

The first two deaths were due to her, of course. Who else had access to the jumpships and dropships besides Eggers Shipping?

The only one spared as his father, on account of their ties of blood. He would still be exiled to Rasalhague for his part in this.

It would be a lesson to all that thought they could take advantage of her King. 

Be they Archon... or First Lord.