From a Ristar to a Lady

[The Wobbly Guy]

A ristar of Clan Smoke Jaguar, Star Captain Avryl Showers was shot in the back and died on Garstedt while the defeated remnants of her clan fled from the Inner Sphere.

But death is not the end for Avryl. A little more than a year later, she finds herself reincarnated in the body of Anastasia Kalinska, the spoiled daughter of a baron on Altoona, an Outback world in the Draconis March.

To her dismay, she finds her clan Annihilated, and herself betrothed to Finn Rason, a viscount of a nearby world and her most tenacious enemy in her previous life.

In the aftermath of the Great Refusal, amidst the Federated Commonwealth Civil War, can Avryl uncover the truth behind her death while navigating her new life as Anastasia Kalinska?

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Forward Base Epsilon Five,
Garstedt, Clan Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone
11th August, 3059

“Beep… beep… beep!”

The communications panel on the watch station console started its incessant bleating. Star Captain Avryl Showers quickly swivelled her chair from where she was watching the camera feeds covering the valley approach to the Forward Base and mashed one hand hard on a button.

“Receiving!” She barked, then released her hand on the button. Her bracelet, adorned with ancient discoloured coyote bones, jingled mildly on her wrist. It was one of the few possessions she truly felt was her own, ever since winning it as isorla after a raid on an old Coyote cache. Many laughed at her and called it old and ugly, but she somehow liked it ever since laying eyes on it.

Static fizzed for a second, before it faded out, replaced by a tired voice. “Star Captain Showers, this is Star Colonel Layse Wimmer.” The Star Colonel commanded the 143rd Garrison Cluster. “We are pulling off Garstedt. Galaxy Commander Corbett wants to preserve what remains of the Jaguar’s strength. We will regroup back in the homeworlds.”

Avryl’s blood ran cold. Neg!

She pressed the button again, “We can counterattack, quiaff?”

“Neg, we cannot. The filthy Spheroids are too many in number. We will be outnumbered four to one in every fight, and dying for nothing gained. Your orders are to quickly pack up everything you can and egress using the Snik protocols. There will be dropships waiting for your unit. Avoid combat at all costs. Every unit and warrior we can get out counts. Do you acknowledge and obey?”

Avryl gritted her teeth. “Aff, I obey.”

“Wimmer out.”

Avryl took a moment to seethe silently. The clan had fought so hard, paid so much! And to lose everything they had gained… it was unacceptable!

But her superiors had spoken, and she would obey her orders. There were already Spheroid forces on the ground, and more were inbound from the jump points. She had been determined to make them pay for every inch of ground, but her superiors clearly had other plans.

Before she could punch another button, the door to the watch station opened. Star Commander Pence Lamongue stepped through. A thin, hard man, abtakha from the Burrocks. Avryl trusted his abilities in battle, but nothing else beyond that. If only they had more loyal and skilled warriors… otherwise she would not have tolerated his borderline insubordinate behaviour. As it was, her unit was comprised of such outcasts and dezgra of the clan, since it was a raiding unit assigned to the most dangerous missions behind enemy lines.

But it was her unit. She was proud of them and what they had managed to achieve. Even if she did not like individual members.

Pence smirked, “Thought I heard the communicator sound off down the corridor, and came along to check it out. New orders, quiaff?”

“Aff. Snik protocols, we are pulling out.” She did not bother to explain further, and turned to make an announcement over the public system to the warriors, technicians, and essential personnel from her command.

A horrible burning sensation stabbed through her chest, and she felt a sharp pain percolating through her lungs, making her limbs lose strength. She fell over the console, her body twisting around as she slumped to the floor, and saw Pence with his sinister smirk holding a laser pistol.

She tried to speak, but the blood coming up her throat blocked her vocal cords, and she could only cough, the terrible pain in her chest continuing to spread. She could feel blackness around the edges of her vision.

She was dying.

Pence crouched down in front of her. “Sorry, it would not do to have you waking up the others and running off so easily. Would be bad for the deal I made.” His eyes were cold and mocking as he actually took out a tissue and gently wiped blood off her mouth. “So much for the Black Lotus, ristar of Clan Smoke Jaguar, feared along the border for her daring and skill. I owe surkai.” His tone was mocking. “Just not now.” He stood up and walked out the door.

Avryl could feel her death soon, but she somehow managed to push herself up against the console on unsteady, wavering legs with all the strength she had remaining to her. No telling what Pence would do, but at least she must warn the others. She could just see the button that would alert the whole base, but everything was going dark…

The last thing she knew was her hand coming down on the alert button.

Kalinski Estate, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
4th January, 3061

“Ahhh!” Avryl woke with a gasp. She jerked up with a start, her head turning to the sides, and her eyes immediately scanned her environment for threats, and more importantly, for where Pence could be.

Something was wrong. Instead of the spartan, sterile ceiling she expected of a military installation or a dropship, she saw a brightly coloured ceiling, lit by orange-red sunlight streaming in through the filtering curtains. Not the bright yellow of Garstedt’s primary. Or the cold breeze from the windows that was completely different from Garstedt’s hot, arid climate.

Her hands went unbidden to her chest, seeking evidence of the exit wound caused by the laser beam, but found nothing but the white shift she seemed to be wearing. She lurched upright, ignoring the tiny pricks of pain from her back from the sudden movement.

Avryl stared around her surroundings. The room spoke of excessive opulence, furnished with expensive looking woodworked furniture, extravagant gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling, soft cushions on several recliner seats around the room…

Come to think of it, I have never been on a bed this soft, she thought, one hand pushing down experimentally, her fingers easily sinking into the soft material, a stark contrast to her time in the sibko, when the beds were almost as hard as rocks to toughen up the trainees. Even as a warrior, the beds were slightly better, but not by much.

Wherever she was, the clan surely could not afford such extravagance! She planned to have strong words with whoever had prepared these quarters for her.

I need to get up, find out what is happening. She shifted her legs off the bed, planting her feet down on the cold floor. I should be an infirmary, or a field hospital, or a patient room, not this… whatever this is!

The moment she tried to stand up, she fell heavily to the floor. Stunned at the weakness in her legs, she clutched at the mattress to try to pull herself up.

“What is wrong with me?” Avryl gritted her teeth and tried to stand up again. Her head turned around to look for possible places to support her legs as she walked, and she froze.

“Huh? What the…”

She could see herself in a mirror. And the image that she was looking at was definitely not Star Captain Avryl Showers, bloodnamed officer and ristar of Clan Smoke Jaguar, with shoulder length brown hair, dusky complexion, and piercing pale brown eyes that verged on the colour orange.

It showed a pale girl with long black hair, barely out of her teens. Bright blue eyes stared back at her, framed by a face that would be considered beautiful by any measure. Her lips were pale though, and her features were a bit gaunt.

She blinked. The image blinked simultaneously.

She used a finger to poke her own face, and when the skin and texture felt all too real to her, she started to feel around the edges of her face, trying to find some loose skin, something, anything, that would peel off this falsehood and reveal her own face. But there was nothing.

She screamed mentally. What is going on? She looked at her left wrist. Her coyote bone bracelet and codex were missing.

The door clicked open. She turned to see a startled looking woman in some form of a uniform.

“My lady! Forgive me, I didn’t know you were already awake!”

Summoning all her strength, Avryl staggered to her feet, teetered the few steps to the woman, and grabbed her by the arms.

“Where are we? Tell me everything? What has happened to me!”

The woman seemed panic-stricken. “My lady, I don’t know what you are talking about! You were in an accident and have been unconscious for three standard days since the New Year Celebration!”

Three days? Three days could not even get her from Garstedt to the jump point, unless the dropship pulled some serious Gs. I need information.

“What is this place?”

“Do you not know, my lady? This is your lord father’s estate, on Inman!”

Inman? Where in the Founder’s name is that? Am I still in the Inner Sphere? Or somewhere else entirely? Or even some other time?

“Lord? What lord?”

“Pardon? It’s your father, Baron Kalinski!”

Avryl stared at the woman, aghast. She had no real father, no clan trueborn born of the iron wombs had. Certainly, they had genefathers and genemothers, the genetic donors who contributed their DNA, but not real parents in the traditional sense.

“What about the war? The clans…”

The woman was close to tears. “My lady, I don’t know what you are talking about! The war with the clans ended last year! The Smoke Jaguars were destroyed! Annihilated, they said the correct term was!”

The words struck Avryl right between her eyes.

Clan Smoke Jaguar? Annihilated? What she had fought so hard for? The clan that strived above all else, to reestablish the rightful Star League?

Avryl fainted.

Rason Estate,
Innerman City, Inman
4th January, 3061

Newly appointed to his position, Viscount Finn Rason stared at the verigraph in front of him, wishing that it would spontaneously combust in front of him, removing a particularly onerous obligation.

The paper refused to cooperate, however, and stayed stubbornly there.

“This is just ridiculous,” he grumbled. He was a decorated soldier, a veteran of Operation Bulldog, the short but brutal campaign to evict Clan Smoke Jaguar from the Inner Sphere. He had just been honourably discharged from his position as a Captain in the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth so that he could take up his father’s position as ruler of Delacambre, one of the Trivet worlds.

But now he was to obey his father’s last instructions, simply because of some arcane arrangements made before he was even born? And even backed by the Count of Inman himself, his signature on the will. If he refused, he could very well be stripped of his title and rank. Count Haynes had the power to do that.

And this dictate, this missive was simply too outrageous.

He was ordered to marry, and not just marry anybody, but the infamous Anastasia Kalinska, sole heir to Baron Kalinski of Altoona.

Oh, sure, she was renowned for being the most beautiful woman in the Trivet worlds, maybe even the whole Draconis March. Hair as dark as night, skin soft and pale, a perfectly formed face, eyes that shine like stars, a figure with curves to die for. But she was just as notorious for her shitty personality. She was nicknamed the ‘White Lotus’, but from what he could glean from the rumour mill, the term also held a negative connotation.

And given that she was even romantically involved with Baron Renard Haynes, the son of Count Haynes, Finn had the feeling the old Count was trying to save his son from a possible scandal by supporting this. Since his own father had passed on, the family’s obligations now fell to him.

Apparently, young Baron Haynes had broken up with Lady Kalinska during the recent New Year’s Day celebrations, and the young lady had been so distraught that she tried to commit suicide by jumping into a nearby lake. Her attempt failed, and she was supposedly recovering at her home.

If Finn had felt bad about the arrangement before, this made it worse. He was getting married to somebody who did not even understand the value and sanctity of life. To throw it away, just like that?

Father, what have you gotten me into? He leaned back in his chair, sighing. I’d rather be in my Templar on field exercises.

5th January

Avryl tapped the surface of her tablet, scrolling the screen down as she read the relatively short piece of news, very recently obtained from the merchants of Clan Diamond Shark, now plying their wares around the Inner Sphere.

They traded in information too.

“...The remnants of Clan Smoke Jaguar were finally crushed on their homeworld Huntress. Soon after, during the Great Refusal on 23rd April 3060, ilKhan Lincoln Osis and what remained of his command unit were defeated. The most brutal and cruel of the Crusader Clans, Clan Smoke Jaguar, was no more.”

“What is this stravag nonsense!” She flung the expensive tablet across the room, not caring when the fragile screen shattered into tiny shards over the floor.

Even that slight exertion of effort left her panting, but her emotions were also running wild. “What about restoring the real Star League? What about avenging the lost peoples of the Inner Sphere? Punishing the Scavenger Lords? Lies!”

She had fought so hard for the clan. She even sacrificed her own honour to serve, commanding an unit of cast-offs on near-suicidal mission after mission. Only for all of it to come to naught?

She descended into another coughing fit, prompting the maid at her door to come rushing in.

“My lady, if this continues, you will faint again! I’ll call the doctor!”

The maid held her close to her own chest, while the background faded off into a blur. Avryl could hardly stay conscious, her body seemed like collapsing upon itself. Ah… what a weak fragile body this is. I am powless.

The next few hours were spent in a tortured haze, the pain in her chest and the fever robbing her of what strength she could muster. She laid on the bed, struggling to breathe, panting.

Anastasia Kalinska… no, that is not my name. That is the name of this body I am in.

Even in her feverish state, Avryl could not help but run over what facts she had managed to glean from the maids.

She was Anastasia Kalinska, sole daughter and heir of Baron Boris Kalinski, the ruler of one of the baronies on the mining world of Altoona. She lost her mother at a young age and lived on Inman with her father ever since. During the New Year Celebration a few days ago, she had thrown herself into a lake and was at death’s door for three days.

“Ana…,” She heard a man weeping. “Ana…”

That is not my name, she wanted to say.

“Don’t worry, Ana, daddy’s here. Everything will be all right.”

But it is not all right. My Clan is dead. Gone. Annihilated.

“Have to… go…” she murmured. To Garstedt. Huntress. Strana Mechty. Anywhere her clan once was. She should have died with her clan, with her people. She did die. So why was she even here now, in a body that was not even hers?

The man cried, “Ana, what do you mean by ‘go’? Why do you keep saying you have to go? Please don’t leave your daddy behind…”

Through her puffy eyes, Avryl could see a reedy middle-aged man with blond hair, his face etched with lines of worry and concern, leaning over her.

“Who… are you?”

The man’s face twisted with pain. “You don’t even recognise your own father? The doctor said you lost your memory…”

Avryl could only look at him with pity. Why are you looking at me with such affection? Just because you share blood with this body?

Oh yes, she understood the importance of blood. The Clans ran on it, revered it in all its forms. Blood for battle. Blood for their forebears. When the blood is spilled, the Bloodname is earned.

But this was different. The love of a father for his child… is that what a father should be? She could feel his trembling hands clasped over hers, as though willing life into her frail body.

“Ana, please!” He sobbed.

She could hear faint footsteps approaching. “My Lord, it is time for the meeting at the Count’s manor.”

The man whimpered, “My daughter is so sick, how can I even think about other matters?”

Maybe… for this man…he lives for his daughter. Just as I once did for my Clan.

Avryl steeled her resolve, and tried to squeeze back against the man’s hands.

“Ana!”

My feelings of rage and betrayal are mine alone. I shall not let my anger cause this body to die. Her eyes blazed with determination. Furthermore, even if the clan was annihilated, I must find out what happened to the others!

The names of those in her command filtered through her consciousness. Victories and defeats, good times and bad. She needed to find out if they had managed to survive, what happened to the remnants of her clan.

And to do that, I must live on as Anastasia Kalinska!
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Otome isekai is always fun because of the fish-out-of-water aspect. This recasts the web novel series 'From a knight to a lady' into the Battletech universe. I thought, what could be more different than a pampered noble-born lady? Easy - a trueborn warrior of the clans, created by eugenics and trained from infancy to be the pinnacle of martial skill.

The original web novel had a creepy 2nd ML (go read the story, what Khalid did was absolutely disgusting), but I changed him to a straightforward antagonist.

It's also a practice in world-building (the system mechanics drove me nuts, especially Altoona), and taking a closer look at the socio-politics of the neglected Outback.

Note that when writing the buildup to the FCCW, the writers never quite explained a major plothole - the IS victory in the Great Refusal was under a comms blackout by the SLDF itself, so the IS never knew what happened until they returned to the IS and they were directed to Luthien for the celebrations.

But the clans were not beholden to keep it secret. Maybe the embassy on Strana Mechty tried, but really, why should they keep such an important event from their IS holdings at all? And given the HPG links from the Clan homeworlds to the IS... the Clanners in the IS should have learned of the results within a week. And given the way IS intel agencies are keeping tabs on the clan OZ, something will have leaked out.

In fact, we know Kat SD got intel from Vlad long before they returned to the IS. And I don't see why the Nova Cats, for example, won't blast messages ahead to their IS holdings. Ditto for the Ghost Bears. The Diamond Sharks, in my story, sold bits and pieces of it, but perhaps they did accede to the embassy demands to only release it after a certain date, and to leave out certain information.

[Brother Jim]

Neat !!!

[The Wobbly Guy]

Chatham, Kagoshima Prefecture,
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
9th April, 3058

The air on Chatham was foul, but Avryl supposed one got used to it after a few hours on the planet. She idly wondered if the stink would ever fade from their equipment though.

“Whoever said the Inner Sphere was a paradise must have missed this place.” Erlin grumbled from his spot, where he was eating a protein bar. The smell from the fruit-flavoured bar probably helped with the stench.

Avryl smirked at him, “Some of the homeworlds are worse. At least the air here is only foul, you can get used to it. Shadow’s atmosphere is virally tainted. Too much time breathing it and you will get sick even if you are vaccinated to your gills. The viral load simply overwhelms your immune system.”

The others shuddered, even as they hunkered down around Avryl, awaiting the signal to get to their mechs for the ambush. Aff, the air was terrible, but the chance to stretch their legs outside of their mechs was a rare reprieve.

Gast, ever the peacemaker, spoke up, “I am sure this is the exception. Most of the worlds we passed through had much better air, quiaff?”

A chorus of affs replied almost in unison. Gast continued, “I may be a Warden, but I can still appreciate the wealth we have seen. There is so much potential in the worlds of the Inner Sphere, they should have been much better off.” Another chorus of affs affirmed his sentiment.

Avryl always thought it was ironic that many of the warriors in her command were Wardens, who felt that the role of the clans were to defend humanity against all threats, instead of conquering them and re-establishing the Star League by force. In contrast, Clan Smoke Jaguar was almost wholly Crusader, as was Avryl herself.

The Star League, where all of humanity was united under a single banner, was the peak of humanity’s achievements. It was humanity’s Interstellar Golden Age, with rapid technological advancement and widespread prosperity.

It ended when Stefan Amaris betrayed and assassinated the First Lord Richard Cameron, pitching the Star League into civil war. When the civil war ended, there was no one single remaining lord who could command the majority of the other lords’ allegiances, and so the lords of the five Great Houses, each leading a massive interstellar state, prepared to wage total war on one another.

The remaining members of the Star League Defense Force, who had survived the civil war, foresaw the impending conflict, and knew their presence would only make it worse. Their Commanding General, the Great Father Aleksandr Kerensky, was urged to take up the throne of the First Lord himself, but he refused, knowing that it would not stop the war, only exacerbate it. Instead, he led his followers into an Exodus far away in the deep reaches of space, where they settled five marginal worlds, the Pentagon Worlds, and eked out a new civilisation.

Even there, though, peace did not last. Old hatreds and feuds among the diaspora erupted, casting them into the same conflict that engulfed the Inner Sphere. Aleksandr Kerensky’s son, Nicholas Kerensky, led a Second Exodus to the newly colonised world Strana Mechty, where he forged a new society.

The Clans.

Twenty clans, almost all named after a fearsome predator or animal totem, were organised. Each led by the most elite warriors who followed Kerensky, identified after rigorous testing and trial. From Strana Mechty, they subdued the Pentagon Worlds, and for the next two hundred years, the Clans grew and prospered.

At around the start of the 30th century, the clans split into two camps, the Crusaders and the Wardens, along the ideological question: should they return to the Inner Sphere and conquer it to reform the Star League?

The Crusaders felt it was the whole reason for their existence, to reform the Star League under their rule. The Wardens disagreed, feeling their role was to remain aloof from the Inner Sphere’s corrupting influence while standing ready to intervene should the Inner Sphere require saving from an existential threat.

After decades of political manoeuvring and deadlock, the Crusaders finally succeeded in getting the clans to invade the Inner Sphere. After a spate of initial successes, their advance bogged down in hard fighting and the invasion finally ended when the clans lost to the Com Guards at Tukayyid.

Since then, the border between the clans’ conquered holdings and the Great Houses was often punctured by frequent raids between the different factions, in search of information, supplies to destroy, or simply just testing the defences.

Avryl’s unit, the Jaguar’s Mists, was currently on such a raid. Their mechs were hidden in the forest surrounding them, covered by tarps which would obscure visual scans, while the ECM on one of the mechs did the rest.

Erlin added, “Then we can prove the Houses wrong without a fight, quiaff? Just by making sure our worlds are better than theirs. Full bellies, and all that.” He swallowed the last of the protein bar with a look of satisfaction.

Avryl scowled at him. “Are you trying to provoke me? You know our clan does not have the best record for development. We are not Diamond Sharks.” She nodded to Camille. “No offence.”

Camille, abtakha from Clan Diamond Shark, smiled, “None taken. Star Captain, Erlin has a point. It is easier to attract flies with honey than with vinegar.”

Erlin, Gast, and Camille were Wardens, recruited when Clan Smoke Jaguar conducted Trials of Possession against other clans for various purposes and claimed as isorla after their clans had lost. Rather than allowing them to languish in the touman, saKhan Brandon Howell, second in command of the Smoke Jaguars, and a master strategist, decided to group the Wardens into a specialised raiding unit using lower quality mechs, and he placed Avryl in charge.

Avryl held no illusions about the nature of her unit. It served several purposes, to get the Warden warriors to contribute to the clan without costing too much in resources, with a good chance of getting them killed. Every successful raid also weakened their enemies, the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery (DCMS) of House Kurita. But it was her unit, and she recognised their skills were too valuable to squander in poorly planned battles.

She was surprised to find herself fitting in well with them despite their ideological differences. It helped that they never pushed their personal agendas, and were fairly content about their lot.

Larris grumbled, “Bad point to compare the people of the Inner Sphere with flies, Camille.”

Larris was a Smoke Jaguar freeborn warrior, who managed to test his way into the touman despite the intense prejudices against freeborns prevalent in the clan. His experiences made him taciturn and withdrawn, but he was a valued member of the unit nonetheless.

Camille shrugged in response. “What else am I going to say? But why flies? Why not some other insect or creature that is more appealing?”

Avryl grinned, “We could always get a Goliath Scorpion to find out for us.” Goliath Scorpions were known for their love of history, and finding out the exact origin of this saying would be something they find challenging

They all laughed quietly. A beeping sound from their communicators quickly cut off the laughter. Their expressions turned serious. They were all seasoned warriors, and knew when to flip the mental switch for battle.

“Signal from Star Commander Pence is in. Mount up and move to your designated spots.” Avryl was all business now. “Remember to stay within my ECM umbrella until the DCMS company is in position for our ambush. If this goes as planned, we will be victorious today.”

The reply was enthusiastic. “Seyla!”

 

Kalinski Estate, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
7th January, 3061

“I… I’m sorry, my lady!”

“What are you talking about?”

As Avryl regained her senses and some of her strength, she started to learn more about the original owner of the body she was now in. For starters, the servants were very responsive to Anastasia’s requests. Excessively so, in her opinion. Even back in her days as a Bloodnamed mechwarrior officer, she did not remember the lower castes grovelling to her quite so much.

“So a drop of tea….”

Anastasia looked down and saw that a drop had fallen onto the saucer beneath the cup. She did not know much about the art of drinking tea gracefully, so she just drank it directly without any pretence at etiquette. The maid was trying to keep up by refilling it constantly, inevitably leading to the accident.

She wondered why spilling a single drop of tea could cause such a fuss. She was also genuinely curious about how the nobility of the Inner Sphere behaved. She looked at the red drop of tea, and then at the maid, who was trembling and kneeling. Anastasia was bewildered. Was it really necessary to kneel down because of that one drop?

“Why are you kneeling?”

“I’m sorry, my lady, please…”

Anastasia was puzzled. Please? Then what? While she looked at the maid, the maid spoke while meeting her gaze.

“Please don’t beat me. Please!”

“…Beat? What do you mean?”

With such a weak body, how could she have beaten the maid?

“Me?”

“Yes, yes!”

“I beat you with a whip?”

“Yes!”

“Did I only use the whip? Was there anything else?” Like most clan warriors who learned the basics of many weapons, Avryl knew how to use a whip. She had even used a deadly neural whip in a duel while contesting for her Bloodname, although her main melee specialty was in swords. She wondered if muscle memory carried over to her new body.

“I… I also had to walk with your shoes on the back of my hand while putting my hand on the floor.”

The maid was so naive that she was confessing all of Anastasia’s misdeeds. What if she actually told everything she knew because she could not withstand torture?

Anastasia tapped her chin with a finger thoughtfully. “Stop bringing me tea for now.”

“Yes?”

“Please, you can just stop bringing it.”

Anastasia had no idea how the original spoke, so she just tried to go off on what little she knew or had heard about nobles in the Inner Sphere. There was the one holovid series, the Steinhearts, that was part of the isorla collected by her unit after a successful raid, and she remembered viewing sessions where she and her companions had poked fun at the foibles and antics of the characters in the show.

Not so funny now that she was in the actual situation.

The maid looked shocked at the overly kind tone Anastasia was using and then realised it was an expression of forgiveness, and she withdrew quietly.

Anastasia looked out the window. Inman was a cool world orbiting a M-class red dwarf that, if it was slightly heavier, could inch into the slightly hotter K class. Due to the very slight axial tilt of the planet, there was not much seasonal variation, and the temperature was cool throughout the year.

It had only been a few days since she woke up. She was trying to live as Anastasia, but it was not easy. She had no noble manners or elegance, so she just drank the tea as it was served, without any concern for proper etiquette.

She was freeborn now, surrounded by other freeborns. She had to let go of her past prejudices, but learning a whole new way of life was just not possible right away.

The doctor’s diagnosis of memory loss had been a surprisingly useful cover, and she managed to avoid scrutiny. However, she hated the possibility of having to live like a weakling for the rest of her life. She would have to start on some physical exercise soon. Even if this body had never done any real physical exertion, she would try her best to get back to some semblance of combat readiness and activity. She would not feel comfortable otherwise.

At that moment, the door opened, and the Baron walked in. Anastasia hesitated, but put on a formal smile. Even that was enough to make his face light up with joy.

“Ana! You look much better now.”

“Aff, that is right.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing.”

Sometimes she would still slip back to her clan speech patterns, but she found she was able to adjust relatively quickly. The Baron smiled with satisfaction and handed her a gift.

“What is this?”

Despite her slip-ups, the joy of giving a gift to his daughter made the Baron seem unfazed by her unusual speech patterns. He handed her a gift with a ribbon beautifully tied around an elegant paper box. Although she really had not expected anything, she forced herself to look excited. When she opened the box, she found a pair of blue earrings that were shining brightly.

“It’s the finest quality jewellery among the items that came in this time.”

According to what she heard, Baron Kalinski owned several mines in his demesne on the nearby world of Altoona, including a small gem mine. Selling gems and valuable ores for industrial production was his major source of income. Other than the fact that it was a blue gem, she did not know much about it. She just gave an awkward smile and thanked him.

“I don’t know when we’ll be able to attend another banquet, but when we do, our Ana should stand out the most. Of course, even without these earrings, you would still be the most beautiful.”

Anastasia furrowed her brow. She was aware that the body she now inhabited was beautiful. But was it that important? And a banquet? Is it really necessary for me to participate in such things as a noble? Supposedly, Spheroid nobles do this all the time, but the thought of seeing the faces of the decadent feudal lords of the Inner Sphere made her feel terrible.

The Baron did not seem to have noticed her pensive expression. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Me too,” she replied automatically.

Upon hearing those words, the Baron seemed to brighten up. Although his face was thin and reedy, he looked somewhat better with a genuine smile on.

“Ugh!” She found herself in a tight embrace. It was awkward and uncomfortable. She wondered if she should hug back, but before she could react, the Baron released her.

“I have more good news. Actually, I wanted to tell you when you woke up, but I couldn’t, until you were better.”

“Good news?” She asked. “What is it?”

“You’re engaged! You have a fiance. Can you guess who it is?”

Fiance. Anastasia almost blanched at the thought. The idea of marriage in the clans, particularly the warriors, was almost taboo. They lived and died for war, for the clan. Sexual fidelity was almost never a consideration. If they felt attracted to another person, even a stranger, they would just approach the person straight up and ask for coupling. There would be no consequences either, thanks to the contraceptive technology implanted in every warrior.

The civilian castes did have marriages, but often required the sanction of the scientists and was mainly for the purpose of reproduction. Avryl knew that many civilians have partners outside of their approved mates and it was never an issue as long as contraceptives were used and did not produce children not permitted by the clan.

But this… to actually have a fiance… Avryl was no stranger to sex, especially back in the sibko as a growing cadet and naturally curious about her maturing body. After she became a warrior, she rarely partook in it, preferring to focus on improving her martial skills, although she did end up coupling with Tiaret quite frequently during their posting on Londerholm.

“Who is it?”

Her question was half-hearted, but the Baron shouted as if it were enough.

“Viscount Rason of Delacambre asked for a marriage!”

Rason? Why does it sound so familiar? I’ve heard this name before. Anastasia furrowed her brow as she tried to recall the name. Rason, Rason, Rason. Delacambre… She felt like smacking herself. How could I forget?

She blurted out, “Finn Rason?”

The Baron looked amazed. “Oh, yes! That’s right. He’s Viscount Finnickerhet Ian Rason now. Ana, you are really smart. I didn’t know you were close enough to him to call him Finn. Unfortunately, Viscount Rason succeeded to the title just after his father passed away.”

Anastasia wanted to smack herself for her slip-up. For somebody with memory loss, she should not know this! Thankfully, the Baron did not notice.

Furthermore… She actually knew Captain Finn Rason of the First Davion Guards, who hailed from Delacambre, some stravag Outback world in the Federated Commonwealth. She had issued batchalls to him, they had faced off on the battlefield, weapons blazing away at each other trying to defeat each other, Avryl Showers in her Spirit Walker, Finn Rason in his Rifleman.

Of all people to get engaged to… It was hard to believe that Finn Rason was now her fiance. It was at this exact moment that the reality of her situation sank into Anastasia, the realisation that she was somehow now completely a noble in the Inner Sphere and in the body of a woman named Anastasia Kalinska.

“He said he’ll visit in two days.”

“….”

“Surprised, aren’t you?”

Anastasia could not think of any other reply. “…Yes?”

“Ana? You don’t like it? You still haven’t forgotten about Baron Renard Haynes?”

She was confused, “What do you mean?”

The Baron closed his mouth tightly, as though realising he had made a mistake and refused to reveal any more information. Could it be that the original Anastasia had something to do with this other noble? Such a troublesome woman.

Anastasia sighed.

 
9th January
1000 hrs (1200 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Viscount Rason’s visit took place before noon two days later. By right, there was no need to dress up as it was just a courtesy visit, but for some reason, the maids put in great effort to dress her up.

First, she had to bathe in warm water with some fragrant scent mixed in. The scent was too strong, and made her cough so much that her lips slightly turned pale, so they applied light lipstick to make her look less washed out.

Even her long hair, which demanded so much more attention and care than her previous shoulder length hair when she was Avryl Showers. It seemed shiny enough to her, but the maids spread some oil and kept brushing it. She had not even gotten out of bed yet, but if they were doing this much, how much would her head hurt if she participated in a banquet? And how do noblewomen endure such time-consuming grooming?

Anastasia felt distant from what was happening. Her stamina was waning.

If her stamina was going to wear thin anyway, she might have been better off getting some real exercise done. At least she would feel stronger in subsequent days, and actually improve her stamina!

Of course, she knew that it was too much for her right now. Her current body had virtually no muscles. Her recovery rate was terrible, and the aftereffects of her illness from her dip in the lake had not disappeared.

She waited for Viscount Rason on her sick bed with makeup on, and the thought of it made her feel humiliated. If any of her former comrades had seen this, they would not have stopped laughing. Come to think of it, there were several episodes of the Steinhearts where they did exactly that.

She thought of the names of her closest warriors. Erlin, Gast, Camille, Larris. What are they doing now? Did they manage to survive the Annihilation? What about the other warriors she knew? Star Captain Tiaret Nevversan? Star Colonel Pellen Wirth?

Anastasia hugged her knees and buried her head, trying to fend off sorrowful thoughts.

The maid, who had been waiting nervously next to her, said, “My lady, your hair is getting dishevelled!”

For some reason, Anastasia felt irritated by this comment. “Why do I have to worry about my hair when I am sick?”

At that moment, they heard a polite knock on the door. The maid next to her had been listening attentively, and gave her a slight nod.

Viscount Rason had arrived, punctual to the scheduled time. Anastasia expected no less of a former regular soldier and officer of an elite unit.

His footsteps echoed to the room as he approached the door, which was opened for him when he was near enough. Their eyes met and they locked their gazes on each other as he continued walking into her room. It was considered a breach of etiquette for a man to enter a noblewoman’s bedroom, but since he was her fiance and she was sick, it was allowed.

The Viscount walked towards her with sure and steady steps, like the soldier she remembered from their occasional communications. With each step came an overpowering sense of intimidation, not helped by the menace he was extruding.

Finn Rason was just slightly taller than average, but that meant he towered over the diminutive Anastasia. His hair was dirty copper, and his eyes were green. With a firm jawline and masculine features, he was definitely handsome, but to Anastasia, he was just the unlucky man to have her as his betrothed.

She frowned. There was a strange sense of deja vu. The last time she had seen Finn Rason was on the small display on her HUD when he granted her hegira on Yamarovka during the failed Smoke Jaguar counterattack. But to now face that same enemy while lying on a comfortable bed?

She felt like punching him right in his oh-so-very punchable face. No matter how handsome or attractive it was.

Sensing the tense atmosphere, the maids quickly bowed their heads and left.

Now, there was only Anastasia and Finn in the room. Instead of exchanging polite but empty pleasantries, they immediately exchanged hostile gazes more suitable for bitter enemies facing each other. Which, in Anastasia’s opinion, was exactly the case.

Finn spoke first, “I apologise for giving you such a late greeting, my lady.”

As an aristocratic man in front of his nobleborn fiancee, he should have shown his respect by kissing her hand, but he did not. Even worse, he just stood there instead of sitting on the prepared chair or kneeling next to the bed, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him.

Anastasia finally decided to toss out a ceremonial remark. “I am sorry for your loss, my lord.”

Internally, she actually wanted to say something like, “Who cares, Viscount Rason?” but instead some level of tact made her choose the minimum level of courtesy.

Silence reigned for a moment. She raised her head, thinking she might have said something wrong, only to find the Viscount’s stern expression.

She hoped he would leave soon, now that he had seen she was fine. It was already hard enough for her to bear the situation she had been put in, and seeing the face of the enemy who had thwarted her so many times was just too much.

She was already struggling just to keep herself from killing this opponent who was once in her targeting sights.

Then the Viscount growled, “It’s a forced engagement, but it still feels disgusting.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes and tried hard to hold back from saying, “I feel the same way.” She finally looked up at him with hostile eyes.

Despite still feeling a bit weak, Anastasia forced herself off the bed and stood in front of him. Despite the height difference, she refused to give him the satisfaction of having her look up to him, so she kept her head down but moved her eyes up instead.

Finn mock-shuddered at the sight, his eyes staring down at her as though she was a mere insect in front of him. “Wow, you even have makeup on. Were you even sick at all?”

“No more pleasantries? Fine by me.”

The man’s green eyes slightly widened and then curved into a smile at the words that Ana spat out. He looked at her with an expression of interest and then chuckled.

“If it was up to me, I would never have agreed to this engagement. I can forgive your past dalliance with Renard Haynes, but if you can’t let go of him and continue to behave so shamelessly, either by committing suicide or by showing such displeasing behaviour in front of me, the future may not be very nice for you. Honestly, I don’t find you particularly likeable either.”

A cold smile formed on Anastasia’s lips. She folded her arms together and sighed. She felt like jumping out the balcony with shame. So the original Anastasia did have a “past” with Baron Haynes. And it seemed like she jumped into some lake because of a failed affair. Figures.

Anastasia found it all too ridiculous. Viscount Rason even seemed to expect her defiance. Even if it was a misunderstanding, why did she have to endure such a scandalous misunderstanding in the first place? Even if it actually was not her, Anastasia felt dirty just by association.

To make matters worse, the fact that the original Anastasia had committed suicide for love made her feel disgusted with her own body.

Finally, if that was not enough, Viscount Rason had mistakenly thought that the reason she could not receive him with a positive attitude was because she had not forgotten Baron Haynes. But if she backed down now, it felt too much like a loss in an opening skirmish.

Anastasia hated to lose.

So she looked at him and said, “If it is so unpleasant to you, can we just maintain this situation without getting married or find a way to divorce immediately after marriage?”

The Viscount smirked at her words, but his eyes showed that he was offended. “Unfortunately, I have a ****** obligation to continue the family line and have heirs.”

“……” Anastasia could not speak for a moment, flabbergasted by the thought of pushing a baby through that… that orifice. While Avryl had been born from an iron womb like all trueborns, the civilian castes still reproduced the old fashioned way. She remembered seeing an instructional holovid in the sibko about childbirth, and the whole thing just seemed insane to her.

And she would have to do this for Finn Rason, of all people? Maybe even several times?

No way. By the Founder, absolutely no way.

Finn continued, “Still, I like the idea of delaying the marriage. When the time is right, we’ll get married and then divorce right away. I don’t want to be with someone like you, my lady.”

He was twisting his lips into a crooked smile.

Anastasia knew very well now that Finn thought very poorly of her, which made sense. If the reason she jumped into the lake was because of Baron Haynes, it was understandable that her fiance would be disgruntled at the fact that his betrothed still loved another man.

It also seemed that Finn never liked Anastasia even without that complication. From what she had gathered, it was only through the orders of the previous Viscount that Finn even had to enter this engagement, and they could not cancel it. But they could postpone it indefinitely if they wanted to.

She had not even adjusted to her new situation yet, and they were already telling her to marry this man and couple with him? Not happening.

She laughed scornfully at his statement that he did not like her. “That is a good thing, thank you.”

She laughed heartily, then felt like biting her own tongue when she realised she sounded just like one of those cackling evil villainesses in the holovids. Finn also smirked as he looked at her face. He lifted his hand and stroked her fallen black hair, then placed his hand on her shoulder just below it. At first glance, it simply seemed like affectionate physical contact between an engaged couple.

Then he whispered into her ear, “If you do another foolish act of jumping into the lake again, you should be prepared for the consequences.”

Anastasia glared at him in response. “Then I guess next time I should just jump off the tallest building in the capital.”

At her confident words, Finn’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. Was he going to hit her or something? She was not afraid. She was used to getting hit. It was practically a requirement for getting through sibko training, where their trainers would beat them regularly to toughen them up.

Finn placed his right hand on her shoulder, and she hit his arm with her left arm, trying to knock it off with all her might. However, her meagre strength could barely budge his heavy grip. She was amazed to realise that her strength was even worse than she had thought.

She raised her hand again to push his arm away, but to no avail. Even she knew that Finn was not gripping her shoulder tightly on purpose. It was simply because she was inherently weak, and had been sick lately, so she had no strength. Angry and frustrated, she looked up at Finn, who looked at her with a mocking expression on his face. His eyes held clear contempt for her.

Words might work where strength did not. “Take your paws off me.”

Despite clenching her teeth, she knew she had already shown weakness. Finn calmly removed his hand from her shoulder.

“Well, it seems like you’ll have to take a lift up the tallest building, cos you certainly don’t have the strength to climb up on your own two pathetic feet.” His left hand came up, two fingers mimicking a walking figure.

In response to his mockery, she was so enraged that her hair started standing on end. Finn’s smile grew even wider as he looked at her. She wished she could just slap that face. However, it was entirely possible she would only end up hurting her own hand even if the slap connected.

“Get out.” Anastasia spat out.

Finn shrugged, and bowed slightly. “Alright, I’ve done all the formalities I needed to. No need to waste any more time.” He turned his back without even saying goodbye and left the room.

As he left, the maids suddenly emerged from wherever they were hiding and crowded around her, scrutinising her face and anxiously asking about her condition.

Anastasia ignored them and just glared at his back. Bargained poorly and done, Finn Rason.

It was not exactly what she had hoped for, but she had overcome her first crisis.
---------------------------------------------
I used a number of in-universe references here. Can you spot them?

Next, the mechs. I know the Spirit Walker is supposed to be extinct, but hey, it's always possible one still lurked around in a cache, and there are reasons why I wanted it in the fic. Meanwhile, Finn's Rifleman is his family heirloom, but upgraded with post-Helm technology. He's changed to another mech since Bulldog, though the old Rifleman is still around.

Lastly, the day-night cycle on Inman is 28 standard hours long, which leads to some required working around by the locals. I had a devil of a time trying to align the standard day/time with the Inman cycles, resorted to an excel spreadsheet to calculate.

[Starfox5]

A match made in heaven. How long will it take her to get back in shape to kick his butt?

[Sir Chaos]

A match made in heaven. How long will it take her to get back in shape to kick his butt?

Hopefully long enough for her to realize there are more deserving butts to kick. Like the one whose owner shot her in the back, or the one whose owner drove Ana to drown herself.

[The Wobbly Guy]

@Starfox5: Quite long. She keeps getting set back by events. And by the time she's ready, would she even want to?
@Sir Chaos: Yup, those are the names on her *hitlist. Finn has one too, as you will read next.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Haynes Palatial Manor, Innerman City, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
9th January, 3061

Finn was still in a foul mood the next local cycle when he entered the Haynes palatial manor, seat of their power. The sentries on guard saluted him briefly as he passed through security. Then his mood grew even more foul when he saw the person approaching him.

Captain Spencer Larouche wore his usual oily smirk as he walked towards Finn, while Finn’s mouth curved in obvious disgust. Of all the people he hated, Spencer Larouche was at the very top.

“It is nice to see you, Viscount Rason.”

Finn felt like slapping that smirk away.

“Nice for you, not for me. Your face makes me angry, so I’d like you to get lost, Larouche.”

Larouche shrugged in response. “Unfortunately, I cannot. We are headed to the same place.”

"What?"

Finn never got along well with Spencer, and he was sure the other man felt the same, though Spencer never showed it outwardly. Finn loathed Spencer, not least because of what the other man had done.

“Count Haynes called us both in.”

“…… damn."

Finn cursed a bit under his breath. In the end, as they were both heading in the same direction, he had no choice but to go through the same hallway. There was only one corridor that led to the Count’s office.

"Oh, I heard you are engaged."

“……”

“I heard that your fiancee is the famous daughter of Baron Kalinski, the White Lotus of Altoona. Is that true?"

Finn refused to rise to the obvious bait. “…….”

"Ah, I've seen her face several times from afar, she is indeed very beautiful. So much so she managed to bewitch even Baron Haynes for a brief time.”

Spencer was mocking him now, bringing up the fact that the Count Haynes’ son Renard had abandoned the woman after playing around with her.

Finn twisted his lips. Despite his origins, that bastard seemed right at home in the venomous pit of snakes that characterised the nobility of the Inner Sphere. Finn didn't like the way he frequently mocked other people with his backhanded compliments either.

"Lady Kalinska surely must have been delighted to see you. You must be sad that she has not been feeling well."

He even raised the rumour that his fiancee had jumped into the manor’s lake right after being rejected by Renard!

Goaded, Finn finally said, “Your efforts for Renard seems more appreciated than that of Lady Anastasia.”

Spencer’s oily smirk grew wider. “I think anyone who hears that will misunderstand. I am only the Count’s faithful servant."

“Sure, whatever you say. I do get entertained by your efforts.”

“.......”

“I think they’re mostly in vain though. Still, I bet the Count is impressed.”

“Well, I can only thank you for your overt interest in me.” Spencer smiled.

What a sly fox. Without a ready comeback, Finn could only glare at the other man.

No more words were exchanged between the two men as they walked together. Finn’s thoughts turned towards his fiancee.

Based on noble ranking, Baron Kalinski’s daughter should have been glad for his engagement offer. After such a humiliating and scandalous event, she would probably have no other choice but to get married to an older nobleman as a second wife, if it wasn’t for his offer of an engagement to protect her status.

He was somewhat surprised to see that she was able to offer her condolences for his deceased father, but her cold demeanour showed her lack of maturity.

Her face had 'I couldn't marry Renard because of you' written all over it. She didn't even offer for him to sit with her as if she didn't even want to see his face. Come to think of it, just as he detested Spencer, she also seemed to despise him in the same way. Finn wondered if his family had ever done anything unspeakable to the Kalinskis.

However, he had thought Baron Boris Kalinski was pleased when he had responded enthusiastically to the engagement notice. Furthermore, although he had met the Kalinskis somewhat frequently since his return to the Trivet, and they had exchanged passing greetings, he had never engaged them in conversation. They simply had no common interests.

So why the deathly glare from Anastasia? When he thought about it, he realised another strange thing - her speech patterns was that of a warrior. He had been so startled by the novelty of speaking informally to his fiancee, that he didn’t even think about the fact that she could respond to his brusque words so naturally.

In hindsight, he should have been surprised that such a well-groomed noblewoman could speak so crudely at all. He didn't notice it at the time because it had sounded so natural. Did she go insane when she threw herself into the lake? He would definitely refuse to have a crazy spouse, regardless of the consequences.

Finn frowned at the memory of that unpleasant first meeting. He said he would divorce her right after marriage, but that meant even more paperwork. Thinking of that grim future annoyed him to no end.

Eventually, the two men reached Count Haynes’ office. With a polite knock to announce their presence, they pushed the door open and entered.

“My lord,” they greeted simultaneously, bowing at the waist.

Count William Haynes had ruled the Trivet worlds, comprising of Inman, Altoona, and Delcambre, for the past three decades since before the Fourth Succession War. He answered to Duke James Sandoval, Minister and ruler of the Draconis March, and further up to their ultimate sovereign, First Princess Katrina Steiner-Davion, now ruler of the Federated Commonwealth. Although as far as Finn knew, none of the First Princes had any reason to focus their attentions on the worlds of the Trivet, as isolated and poor as they were.

Count Haynes looked worried. The old man rested his forehead on one hand, his fatigue clear to both men. “Viscount Rason, Captain Larouche.”

They stood to attention.

“You heard the latest news?”

Finn mentally ran through the events of the past few days. Well, there was that affair Renard Haynes was involved in, receiving payoffs in return for introducing commercial interests to their prospective regulators. Strictly speaking, it was not illegal, yet the very perception of corruption can, in itself, be quite damning.

As a result, there was a groundswell of sentiment against Renard. The news networks were spinning furiously the past few days to shape public perception more favourably, but there were limits to their reach. There were already a few major protest marches.

Protests were fine. The Federated Suns was founded with an emphasis on freedom of speech. But usually, that was as far as things went. Rarely did these protests result in any actual change, and matters usually returned to the status quo after some time. If they didn’t…

The ‘whiff of grapeshot’ still worked as well as ever.

While petitions could still go up the chain to the First Prince, at the ground level the government officials and the nobility would usually conspire to mitigate such charges and find plausible excuses here and there to excuse the excesses of the local nobles.

Finn had seen it all. Studied them, even, during his time at Kilbourne Academy. The power of an entrenched bureaucracy, the Deep State, could make or break even absolute rulers, and was something even the monarchs of the Successor States often refused to admit to themselves. Capable rulers, like First Prince Hanse Davion and Coordinator Theodore Kurita, knew how to subtly shape the apparatus of state to their aims, while mediocre rulers, like Captain-General Janos Marik, would be foiled by internal opposition at every turn.

“Tensions are rising, and damn Renard for getting caught!”

There it was. It wasn’t that Renard did anything wrong. It was that he got caught. Nobody claimed Count Haynes, least of all himself, as any paragon of virtue. The old man had lied, swindled, and cheated his way to power and wealth over the years.

Finn supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. The Count had taken on Spencer as his military aide and commander of his household troops, after all. But even if he found it distasteful, he still owed the Count his loyalty and fealty.

Such were the obligations of a noble in the Inner Sphere, bound to the web of the feudal system. You didn’t have to like your rulers or even your subordinates, you just had to do your own job.

“I want the two of you to have your men ready. If the worst happens, you should know what to do.”

Finn glanced over at Spencer. The Count was deliberately being vague on his orders, all the more for them to take the fall if anything went wrong.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t Finn’s problem. By tradition, the Viscount of Delacambre was responsible for the military defences of the Trivet, keeping tabs on production of vital logistics and making sure they could fend off pirate raids, or historically, hostile incursions from the Draconis Combine.

Finn himself preferred to be on an actual battlefield instead of handling domestic matters.

But when the Count called, well, he couldn’t refuse. The upside was, if he played a major part in resolving the problem, it would be the Count’s turn to owe him a favour.

And that would be useful indeed.

Kalinski Estate
17th January, 3061

“My lady, please stop.”

At the maid's plea, Anastasia slowed her pace. She was panting, and her heart was pounding. Sweat dripped down and stuck to her body. Bystanders would have thought that she was crazy, but unfortunately for Anastasia, she had only gone twice around the garden. And she was not even running, just walking a little faster.

To Avryl, Anastasia’s body was shockingly feeble. She was so limited in what she could do. How did the original Ana manage to go for all those parties?

When she resolved to start her physical training, she could not even find suitable clothes from the wardrobe to wear for exercise! So she was stuck wearing the shifts that Anastasia seemed to have in plenty. Thankfully, the estate grounds were mostly populated by the maids of the household and she did not have to worry about leering eyes.

Not that Anastasia cared. The clans were never that hung up on these social mores, though she knew that in the aristocracy of the Inner Sphere, proprieties still had to be observed.

Her plan was pretty simple. Although her body was far weaker than Avryl’s, she still wanted to be fit and strong. Who knew what dangers could be out there? Even if Anastasia was raised as a pampered and protected noblewoman, she just could not abide the sheer lack of physical activity.

So, she had to build up her strength and stamina. It was a good thing that she happened to be somewhat familiar with the therapeutic, rehabilitation, and conditioning exercises used by the clans to recover, especially after injuries, and this knowledge certainly came in handy now.

Except that she did not expect her body was going to be this weak!

She staggered over to a table, pausing to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding so hard she could count her heartrate even without putting a finger to her neck.

The maid next to her called out in worry, "Miss!"

Anastasia waved her off. “I am fine. I have to do this.” She was waiting for her heartrate to subside before continuing her exercises.

The maid pouted. “I will tell the master.”

Anastasia stubbornly persisted. "You can try, but this is something I must do." She took a deep breath and started doing supported squats using the table. If only the stravag shift didn’t keep getting in between her legs! She made a mental note to ask the maids to get her proper exercise attire.

Callisthenics were traditional bodyweight exercises used by warriors through the ages, and even after mankind’s ascent to the stars, they were still amongst the best exercises for building up strength. Anastasia recalled a fellow clan warrior who once lost his legs in battle and got cloned replacements, but still had to go through the gruelling rehabilitation exercises to ensure full reconnection of his nervous system and to recover his lower body strength.

Supported squats, standing pulls, standing push-offs, seated knee tucks, she recited mentally to herself. As weak as her body was, she could only do the most basic of exercises. And considering that Inman had decent 1.03 G gravity, she could not blame the weakness of her body on the local conditions either. Freebirth, there were clan homeworlds with 1.5Gs!

Meanwhile, the maids watched their lady, worried and yet proud of her determination. They had quickly realised that their mistress, who had always been mean with a sharp tongue, was now even more stubborn but also somewhat gentler. The more astute ones recognised that Anastasia was now kind to everybody to some extent, instead of playing favourites and capriciously switching as she had done in the past.

They knew that Lady Anastasia had lost her memory. She had lost all her etiquette and seemed to lack any knowledge of the social conventions that surrounded her status. Yet she was generous and they felt that made her more adorable than before. Even though she was an adult, she also did not begrudge their efforts to care for her.

The maid sighed, “I’ll hold up a parasol? The sun is very strong!”

Anastasia eyed the small and flimsy parasol dubiously, then up at the sky, where Inman’s M0V class primary cast down its reddish-orange light. Compared to Huntress’s G7V yellow star, this was far weaker and she would normally not even care. Except that Anastasia’s skin, like the rest of her body, was probably just as delicate, and might not even withstand the rays of such weak sunlight.

"Your arms would hurt. I am also taller than you. Your name is….?"

“I’m Luisa.”

“All right, Luisa,” she gave in eventually. The maid’s intentions were well-meaning, and Anastasia just could not bring herself to reject her kind offer.

One more thing the servants noticed was that she was friendlier with her maids and made an effort to remember their names, instead of just saying “Hey you”. Of course, the effort was ineffective since she would always mix up their names.

The estate, where everyone once walked constantly on thin ice due to Lady Kalinska’s vicious personality, was turning into an easier place to work in. One of the more poetic maids even compared the brighter mood to blooming flowers.

The maids remembered Anastasia’s savagery, but they held no grudges against her. At their lowly status, it was expected of their betters. Lady Anastasia’s rank was too high for them to consider otherwise. Besides, they felt they were already lucky enough to have jobs and food on the table. Why put all that at risk?

Except now, Lady Anastasia’s every action slowly entangled the convoluted knot of depressed feelings in the servants, confounding and astounding them in equal measure. Several times, she could not stand back and just watch the maids working hard. She would take on the small chores, such as pouring water for herself, even if her strength was still weak.

The maids managed to stop her from doing so anymore, because they would get into trouble with the head butler. These incidents also convinced them that Lady Anastasia was not inherently bad and that she was just spoiled. Maybe the failed suicide attempt also ignited a burst of maturity?

They certainly hoped so.

The Baron was also delighted with Anastasia's changes because she stopped being so picky and was a lot more easy-going. In all, they were slowly getting used to Avryl as Anastasia.

After several more exhausting rounds, Anastasia finally gave into Luisa's pleas to rest. When she entered the house, one of her other maids brought her a gift box, saying that the master had sent it since she asked for it. Opening the box, she was a bit surprised.

It was a dagger, adorned with so many jewels on the hilt that it seemed almost impractical. She held up the gaudy dagger with one hand, judging its balance critically. As she suspected from its appearance, it was poorly balanced, had a lousy grip with the jewels, and was meant for ornamentation, not actual combat. It was still sharp, but that was about it. Trying to block attacks or to stab with the dagger would be foolish against a competent opponent.

Anastasia felt disappointed, but consoled herself with the fact she at least got a dagger. She knew the Baron doted on his daughter, and would acquiesce to almost anything she asked for.

Asking for a gun would set off all sorts of alarms though, and she dared not press her luck too hard. And if a gun was too much, even more so for a mech. She was not even sure if her current body had the neurological responsiveness in the first place.

Besides, buying a mech was a whole new level of expenditure. Discreet and oblique enquiries had revealed that there actually was a family heirloom mech stashed away somewhere on Altoona, but nobody had seen it or even know where or what it was. Disappointing, but expected given what she had observed of the Baron and the state of the household. They were definitely not a military family, or else had lost whatever pretence to being one.

Anastasia sighed and finally strapped the sheath around her right thigh, before sliding the dagger into it. She practised drawing the dagger out of the sheath a few times, before she was satisfied at her draw speed and that she would not cut herself while doing so.

The dagger under her ostentatious clothes. A tinge of danger under a veil of glamour. She supposed that was who she was now, just like she was actually Avryl Showers in Anastasia Kalinska.

In fact, it took some explanation before she understood why her surname was different from her father's. House Kalinski still adhered to the old tradition of using different suffixes for male and female members of the family, although they did not keep the patronymics.

The best part of every day was mealtime. The food was far better than the rations issued to the warriors of the clans. Other than a few special occasions, it had always been the same old protein bars, energy drinks, and reconstituted ‘meat’ that passed for food. After she tested out as a warrior, the poor state of the Clan’s economy meant that even the warriors did not enjoy luxurious meals.

In the Inner Sphere, she had some exposure to the local food and delicacies on the conquered worlds of the occupation zone, and she came to appreciate ramen, donburi, and sushi, staple meals of the occupied worlds, but there were not many opportunities to enjoy them. She especially missed okonomiyaki.

The food on Inman was different, centred around European style cuisine. She found that she enjoyed aglio olio, pizza, and the lighter soups, though the more flavorful dishes still seemed too much for her recovering stomach. She also finally got to taste the mythical ice cream, and it was especially delightful, since she had never tasted anything like it before. The quillar flavour was too sweet though; she preferred vanilla.

It was sheer decadence compared to the spartan lifestyles of the clans, but Anastasia resolved to enjoy it since she now was able to. That did not stop her feeling somewhat guilty at times though.

Militia HQ,
Innerman City
18th January, 3061

Finn groaned. As if the protests weren't enough, the protestors were now going after the companies that had paid Renard off. It was a change of tactics that did not augur well for tamping down tensions.

Several of these companies had called in, complaining that they couldn't conduct business as usual due to people deliberately blocking their vehicles, pestering their workers, or playing very loud music outside their offices. A few extremists even went after the families of the owners, further exacerbating the tensions.

Civil disobedience of this sort could be very effective when sustained, and the authorities wouldn't have any real reason to shut most of them down.

The usual counter strategy would be to go after the protest leaders, putting them under house arrest. With the broad powers available to the local nobles, this was not just possible, but even legal. However, it could also set off another round of protests against the government’s heavy hand.

"Sir, Tom Cladis called to complain his family is being harassed." His secretary Eric stood to attention while reporting in his office.

Finn sighed. "Pass it on to Chief Donaire. It's the police's job, not ours. We're only good for breaking things, and this isn't the time for that."

"Then why did they call us?"

"Because these small minded fools are hoping we'll take action. And then the heat gets transferred to us because we'll end up breaking people."

With his command of the militia, he currently only had a lance of mechs and another lance of combat vehicles, but these would be overkill against the protestors. And Count Haynes himself had his own household guards, commanded by Captain Spencer Larouche. Better the steady escalation of force, first through the police, before they had to be involved.

If they were called in too quickly, the populace would forever remember the response, and nobody liked having to live the next decade constantly looking over their shoulder for possible threats.

He’ll have to tread the line carefully. Unless something serious happened that absolutely required the presence of a military force, he would wait for specific instructions from Count Haynes. And even then, he would make sure the justifications were sound before taking action.

Not that it would come to this, Finn hoped. The way things were going, it would only take a spark to set the whole city on fire…

----------------------------------------------------------
Inman

System Information
Coordinates 556.02 : 7.187
Stellar Class M0V
Recharge times 201 hours
Recharge stations Zenith

Geophysical
System Position 1st
Jump Point distance 3.17 days
Moons 2
Surface gravity 1.03
Atmospheric pressure Standard (Breathable)
Equatorial temperature 16 0C (boreal)
Surface water 80%
Highest native life Birds

Infrastructure
Capital Innerman City
Population 80,000,000
Socio-economic levels D-D-C-C-B
HPG station B

[Sir Chaos]

@Starfox5: Quite long. She keeps getting set back by events. And by the time she's ready, would she even want to?

If she lets Finn in on who she really is, by that time I think he might decide to let her kick his ass ("just this once, for old times´ sake"), so she can get it out of her system and focus on what´s to come.

I think that would be the kind of romantic gesture a Smoke Jaguar could appreciate.

[Starfox5]

Wouldn't that be like throwing a fight, and considered an insult?

[Sir Chaos]

Wouldn't that be like throwing a fight, and considered an insult?

You´re only throwing the fight if you could have won.

Avryl in her prime was probably a good bit more dangerous than Finn - she´s been raised as a warrior from birth, whereas for him being a soldier was something he did until it was time to be a noble again.

Plus, we could consider the whole thing a Trial of Grievance from the Clan perspective, and there´s plenty of precedent for clanners "throwing the fight" for various reasons - such as the Nova Cats during Operation  Bulldog.

[mikecj]

TAG'd

[The Wobbly Guy]

Finally, a bit of mech action! This is Battletech, after all. Those who have read the novels should know which scene from the novels inspired the action in this chapter.
----------------------------------------
Innerman City, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
26th January, 3061
2200 hrs (1400 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

"It is nice to go outside after such a long time. It’s also good to take a break from your exercising."

"Is that so? Then I will try to come out more often."

The maid, Anastasia thought her name was Louise, laughed happily at that. The laughter wasn't aimed at Ana specifically, but more for herself.

I must be getting soft if I am so easily slacking off, Anastasia lamented internally. She trained hard for the past few cycles, but on the previous morning she could barely crawl out of bed because her muscles were all so sore. She spent the whole day getting massages from her maids to help her recover, and the maids all insisted that she took a break today.

It was also a time for her to get acclimated to the local day/night cycles. Inman was a slightly larger planet than Terra, and took 28 standard hours to make one complete rotation. As a result, the natives adjusted their daily schedules to the local cycle. Instead of 2400 hrs for local time, they used 2800 hrs.

The normal schedule for most people was to wake at 0600 hrs, do their stuff til 1400 hrs, then have a short rest period til 1800 hrs, where they would usually take a short nap (the locals call it siesta), then usually work again for a short time before knocking off for leisure, or start their leisure time straightaway. At 2600 hrs, most people would go to sleep for the next day, the long rest period. It also happened that every standard week of 7 days coincided with 6 local cycles, since each standard Thursday more or less matched the local cycle, so it was considered the start of each cycle and standard week, and hence also designated the rest day instead of the traditional Sunday.

Left with nothing to do, Anastasia gave into her curiosity and decided to explore the city a bit during the second sleep period, when less people would be out and about. Furthermore, she was feeling a bit cooped up in the Kalinski estate, having gotten used to constantly moving around when she was leading the Jaguar’s Mists Binary. So she made up an excuse about buying proper exercise attire to leave the estate, claiming that the ones the servants had provided still did not fit quite right.

The caveat was that she had to go with a bodyguard, given the current state of the capital.

The bodyguard, Ben, was now driving their hoverlimo. He did not look like much, and Anastasia figured she could have taken him down in seconds when she was still Avryl. Still, it was better than nothing, at least until she had trained up sufficiently to protect herself. In fact, she was already feeling a bit stronger compared to when she just woke up as Anastasia.

The Peloran Class Six hoverlimo was luxurious enough, but the low humming of the combustion engine spoke to its relatively low tech construction, while in the clan homeworlds, hover vehicles were usually powered by fuel cells or batteries.

Anastasia looked out of the window, which was opened to let in the cool air. Innerman City was completely different to what she had previously experienced before.

Some of the larger, more advanced structures were obviously old, but well-maintained, and probably stemmed from the time of the Star League. The simple but elegant architecture spoke of high hopes and a yearning for a more prosperous life.

Compared to the brutally utilitarian structures of the Smoke Jaguars, spiced up by bombastic monuments to the glory of the clan, or the plain cookie-cutter industrial looking cities of the Draconis Combine, occasionally interspersed with small pockets of beautifully crafted Japanese buildings, this was a whole new experience for her.

As the hoverlimo cruised at a steady speed down the road, Anastasia tried to process her mixed feelings. The fall of the Star League resulted in the Succession Wars, which lasted for more than two hundred years and wrecked the Inner Sphere, as the Lords of the five Great Houses struggled in vain to gain dominance over the others.

House Davion, rulers of the Federated Suns, where Inman was located.

House Steiner, rulers of the Lyran Commonwealth. Houses Steiner and Davion had merged through an alliance marriage, but Anastasia, with some of the rumours she had heard as Avryl, suspected the union was not going as smoothly as planned.

House Kurita, rulers of the Draconis Combine, which the Smoke Jaguars tried to conquer unsuccessfully.

House Marik, rulers of the Free Worlds League. She did not know much about them except they tended to wage internal conflicts within themselves almost as much as against external enemies.

House Liao, rulers of the Capellan Confederation. The weakest House, but had skilled warriors who were almost fanatical in battle.

For Anastasia, it was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that she had become a noble of one of the states which betrayed the Star League. Even now, evidence that the city was the result of Star League technology and economy was apparent, with access points along the roads for maintenance of the underground infrastructure. For example, the lack of messy hanging electrical cables informed her that the electrical grid was all underground, but this required vast maintenance and a robust infrastructure.

There was something else though.

"Why is the capital so noisy? I thought it was siesta?" There were throngs of people crowding the streets as they neared the city centre, slowing the hoverlimo’s speed to a crawl. Many held placards, with slogans and words, some horribly misspelt, a sign of their lack of education.

At Anastasia’s question, the maid opened the window separating the driver's compartment from the passenger seats and asked the same thing to their bodyguard.

"Ah, these are protestors angry at Baron Haynes for alleged corruption."

“Hmmph.” Anastasia huffed. She was still annoyed whenever Baron Renard Haynes’ name came up. She was also somewhat vaguely aware that he had gotten into some kind of trouble the last few days, based on the reports from the media, but judging from what was happening around her right now, the media was obviously underplaying the severity of the protests.

The maid looked a little nervous. “My lady, let’s hope nobody recognises the hoverlimo or you. It will be troublesome if somebody recognised you and connected you to the Baron. Better close the window. Or, we could turn back, but it’ll take time to exit the street.”

Anastasia looked at her, and conceded to the wisdom in her words. Behind the tinted plexiglass of the window, it would be much more difficult for the protestors to see her face. Turning back, however… it would be the same as continuing on their errand, and Anastasia really wanted to spend time outside the estate.

Traffic was at a virtual standstill now, while waiting for the mass of people in front of it to dissipate.

Then people started shrieking in fear and running away in the direction of the traffic.

 

Billy was just an Agromech jockey, been one for years. Harvest after harvest, doing the same things day after day, week after week, year after year. He was short, ugly, and people said he was stupid. But he had something many people did not have.

A responsive neurological system that enabled him to almost make a mech dance under his control. That was his sole point of pride.

When he was younger, he had used that ability to brag and get women. He had played around, spending his earnings in flashy displays of wealth. He didn’t settle down, instead wanting to continue his free-and-easy life with no strings attached.

That life just came crashing down on him.

His boss had fired him. Their company had specialised in helping richer farmers with their harvests, and profits had been good for many years. When word came of possible regulation on the use of agromechs, including stiff fines on the condition of the machines, his boss decided he needed some additional insider knowledge. So the boss had contacted Renard Haynes who promised to get him in touch with the legislators working on the regulations.

That was all and fine, but it turned out that this communication wasn’t quite kosher, resulting in the massive shitshow going on in the city, and the legislators decided to protect themselves and claim innocence. To gather funds for the impending legal battle, his boss decided to fire him in favour of younger pilots who offered almost the same value for much lower wages.

So much for loyalty.

He got fired on the very day he found out he had racked up a huge debt with his drinking and brothel bills, when he had been planning on his substantial bonus to pay off the debt. If he couldn’t pay it off, the debtors had promised no small amount of pain with their own hired muscle. In fact, he already had a substantial dose of it, the taste of blood in his mouth and the bruises on his face stirring anger within him.

With few choices available, he took a cab into the city, and snuck into the company’s offices near the city centre. There they displayed some of the HVR-99 Harvester mechs to prospective clients, usually rich farmers or nobles who owned extensive agricultural holdings.

He had something of a plan. Get behind the controls of a Harvester, and get out of the city. Get some vengeance on his boss, the protestors, anybody and everybody who offended him or laughed at him. Then maybe sell the mech off for a tidy price, then hide out in the countryside for the rest of his days. He fortified himself with copious doses of liquid courage, and went into the office.

It was the end of the long lunch break, so the mech display room was empty. Security at the doors was almost laughable, and he got in by claiming he needed to check something. The guards apparently had not been informed of his departure from the company, and let him in. He was worried they would pick up the alcohol from his breath, but it was a frequent enough occurrence that they didn’t think it was anything out of the ordinary.

He took off his jacket, revealing the protective vest that would protect against sudden collisions. He looked up at the blocky humanoid machine in front of him, a ten metre tall behemoth equipped with a lift hoist in the right arm and a wicked looking combine in the left.

It was a far cry from the powerful battlemechs that were purposely built for war, but still a threat under the right conditions.

He quickly climbed up the rope ladder hanging from the mech to the cockpit mounted in its head, a boxy compartment surrounded by plexiglass. Experience also told him that these display machines were also usually topped up with fuel for their engines, and generally well-maintained. In front, he could see the protestors thronging the pavement and street in front of the display window. Obviously, nobody was paying any attention to him, even when he climbed into the cockpit and retracted the ladder.

He could already taste their fear when he finally moved the Harvester.

He put on the bulky neurohelmet, made sure it was connected to the cable hookup behind the seat, and set it in place over his head and shoulders. He then inserted the data chip that automatically tuned the neurohelmet to him. His hands moved with easy familiarity over the controls, turning on the small battery that would ignite the engine and power the cockpit systems, flipping switches, prepping the engine and fuel lines, and making sure the myomer circuitry was connected. With everything ready, he pushed the button that would actually start the engine, and hence the mech.

The powerful Junkers 120-rated engine roared to life, and the cockpit systems fully brightened up from their standby status. He could feel the power that surged through the myomer ‘muscles’ that moved the mech. He was no mechwarrior, but the sense of power from driving a mech, that made him feel strong. Powerful.

The standard refrain sounded in his neurohelmet:

Engine online.

Sensors online.

All systems nominal.

The Heads-Up Display (HUD) on the neurohelmet showed everything was in order. He grinned and pushed the throttle forward, shattering the store glass display.

The protestors fled in fear.

 

“What the…” Anastasia widened her eyes as the protestors suddenly started fleeing the streets, many of them screaming as they tried to run away.

Their driver turned back to look at them, his eyes also wide with fear. “There’s something in front!”

Anastasia looked out the front of the hoverlimo. It took about a bit of watching, but about four hundred metres away at the far end of the wide boulevard, she saw an agromech suddenly turn the corner onto the wide thoroughfare they were on. It stomped around, waving its arms wildly and smashing aside lamp posts and smaller vehicles, sending them flying right into the throng of people. There was a wide space around it, cleared by protestors as they ran away. There were already bodies on the street, victims of the mech’s rampage. Anastasia was not sure, but she could even make out several small bodies. It even dared to hurt children!

The protestors were amongst the vehicles. Those in the vehicles were also trying to get out, since their vehicles were stuck in traffic and could not move, but with so many protestors blocking the doors, many of them were stuck as well. The situation had developed into a stampede, and Anastasia could see Louise in tears. The poor girl was frightened. Ben in front was not much better. For a bodyguard, his complexion was pale and he looked terrified.

Facing down a mech, even an industrial one, probably was not in his job description.

They had to get out, the mech seemed to be moving towards them.

“Ken, open the door and try to make space for us!” Anastasia ordered.

The bodyguard nodded. He took an opportune moment to shove open the door, then used his body to block some of the onrushing protestors as he opened the door to let Anastasia and Louise out.

The moment they got out of the hoverlimo though, a particularly burly man literally ran through the poor bodyguard. His head collided with the side mirror of the vehicle, cleanly knocking him out.

“Ben!” Louise screamed in terror. Then the man smashed into her as well.

The maid crumpled from the impact. Anastasia herself barely got out of the way, flattening herself against a car to avoid colliding with the man. She looked at Louise, who was crying profusely now, her hands clasped around her left ankle.

“My lady, my ankle! It’s hurt!” They looked at the direction of the mech. It was slowly advancing closer.

Her bodyguard was unconscious. Her maid could not walk. There was no way she could carry them both, not in this weak body. And she could not bear to see her own people hurt, especially innocent young Louise. If they served her, she was responsible for them. In her mind, she already considered the servants and maids of the estate as her people, and the role of a leader was to protect their people.

Louise cried, “Lady, you must run!”

Anastasia looked around, trying to stay calm. She saw a massive cargo hauler, also abandoned by its driver. No vehicles blocked its path to the mech. That seemed a bit promising…

She looked at the mech again. Was it her, or was it moving a bit strangely?

Her sight narrowed on the right knee joint. It walked with a hitch, probably poor maintenance on the knee actuator. Perhaps even damaged.

If she had been in Avryl’s body, she would not have hesitated to take on the mech, even if unaugmented. There were ways to open up a cockpit from the outside, and she knew quite a few of them, having learned them from Elementals as part of the training to raid the Draconis Combine. And from that point on, it was simply a matter of killing the pilot to end the threat.

But in Anastasia’s body, there was no way she would be able to scale the mech to reach the cockpit, even with the right equipment.

So the cargo hauler it is.

Ignoring Louise’s cries for her to run away, Anastasia lifted up the skirt of her dress and started running for the cargo hauler. It was not far, only about thirty metres away, and she was glad her exercises over the past few days had already borne fruit. She was at least able to run that far without collapsing!

The cargo hauler’s engine was still running, and adrenaline pushed her to grab the handholds and pull herself up to the driver’s cabin. She took in one look at the controls, which seemed not much different from the various vehicles she had driven before. The standard wheel, automatic gear transmission, and pedals for acceleration and braking. There was a suitcase next to the seat, she could use it to keep the gas pedal down.

She turned her eyes to the mech. She knew there was a chance she could knock it over with the cargo hauler, but head-on it was just too easy for it to avoid the cargo hauler with a side-step. She needed a distraction, but from where?

Suddenly, gunfire erupted from a side street. Several policemen were shooting at the mech with small arms. Their fire was ineffectual, bouncing off its thick armour. Even the few rounds that hit the broad plexiglass canopy surrounding the cockpit seemed to just bounce off.

But she had her distraction, as the mech turned and started moving towards the police.

Anastasia weighed the accelerator down with the suitcase, then quickly transferred her arms to the steering wheel even as the cargo hauler jerked into movement.

One thing that separated trained mechwarriors from mere pilots was their situational awareness. The ability to constantly take in information from their surroundings and ascertain the optimal course of action. She did not know if the pilot's neurohelmet had a three-hundred-sixty compression view, but she was betting on him not noticing the threat posed by her cargo hauler until it was too late, since his attention was focused on the police.

The gap closed quickly, even as she steered the vehicle, curving it slightly to angle it to hit the mech's knee at the optimal angle. Three hundred, two hundred, one hundred metres. Fifty, forty, thirty, twenty, ten! Somehow the mech did not notice the cargo hauler, and the police seemed to understand what she was doing, and continued firing sporadically even as they backed away from the rampaging mech. Just before the collision, Anastasia flung open the door of the cargo hauler and leapt out. She tumbled to the ground, rolling for several metres before she stopped. Thankfully, the thick sleeves on her dress prevented her skin from lacerations and scrapes. She was sure she would still have some bruises though.

The cargo hauler was still accelerating when it crashed into the right knee of the mech from the side. The entire leg joint twisted, and the mech spun around and crashed to the ground, causing a  minor earthquake with the impact of its fall. Anastasia knew it could have fallen on her, but it was a desperate gamble, and it had paid off so far.

She looked at the police, who had backed away too far to take immediate advantage of the situation. Even now, they were cautiously advancing.

Fools! She wanted to scream at them. It is down, but it can get up again. Get on it before the pilot can do so!

So it was up to her again, and she was only a few metres away from where the mech fell. She gritted her teeth and dashed forward to clamber on the mech on her hands and knees towards the cockpit area, thankful that the policemen had stopped firing. She was very conscious of the dagger sheathed on her thigh. The mech was already shifting under her, the pilot probably coming to grips with the situation and getting ready to stand up.

The cockpit of every mech, regardless of type, had some nominal security system to protect the pilot. But Ana knew that rescue crews also needed to pop the canopy top to extract unconscious pilots. Civilian mechs usually have less extensive security measures compared to battlemechs, which required specialised tools to open up the cockpit.

Memories from her time as Avryl came back to her, and she looked for an innocuous looking panel. Finding it in moments, she drew her dagger with her right hand and with a twist of her wrist, used the dagger to flick the panel open, her left hand already reaching in to yank the D-shaped pull handle inside.

The cockpit canopy popped out, revealing a small man in a bulky neurohelmet staring at her in open-mouthed amazement, even as the helmet visor covered his eyes and fed him information through the HUD.

He seemed to belatedly realise the danger he was in, his hands coming up to defend himself, but Anastasia had already stepped into the small space of the cockpit and stabbed forward with her dagger. End the threat, her mind sang. Even in the midst of combat, she was calm and collected.

She had not realised until this moment just how much she had missed the thrill of battle.

The man screamed for mercy before the first stab even went through his protective collision vest, and after the third stab of her dagger Anastasia was not sure if she should continue until the man was dead, because he was already just barely twitching, blood pouring from his mouth. Her own body was shaking with fatigue, but she knew she could not collapse, not now!

Anastasia heard massive stomps. More mechs are approaching. She looked up and saw a battlemech of an unknown design, with the heraldry of House Rason, a black boar over a green field, emblazoned on one of the massive pauldrons on the right shoulder. She had seen it before, on Finn Rason’s Rifleman 5D.

“You are early, Viscount Rason.” she quipped. Already, relief was spreading through her body at the presence of competent reinforcements.

She was not even aware when she fell unconscious.

 

Finn Rason had been prepared for many things, but seeing his fiancee Anastasia Kalinska standing over the body of a half-dead mech pilot with a bloody dagger in the cockpit of a downed Harvester was definitely not one of them.

First things first. He quickly got out of his Templar and lifted her small, lithe body into his arms. He carefully carried her out of the Harvester, and walked over to a shaded area of the boulevard. He frowned at the dagger in her hand, and carefully pried it away, handing it off to a nearby policeman. The police officers on the scene were already cordoning off the area and securing the Harvester.

Meanwhile, his scratch lance had set up around the area to prevent any further adventurism by anybody seeking to escalate the situation. A hover APC had accompanied them, and there were medics who would be able to provide medical care.

His fiancee’s fine dress was torn and tattered in places, and splattered with blood on others. Her hair was tousled, and there was blood on her face too. It was remarkable how she had still held onto her dagger even when unconscious. A policeman inflated a small airbed, and Finn laid her down carefully on it. A medic came over to look her over.

“My lady!” He heard a cry. Finn turned around to see a man in a black jacket supporting a young girl, clad in the clothes of a maid. He had a nasty bruise on the side of his head, with a trail of blood, while the girl was limping badly.

The man bowed, and stammered, “My lord, we are the servants of Lady Kalinska. May we ask about the lady’s condition?”

“The medic’s taking care of it. You two should get your wounds looked after too.” He gestured to his men, who quickly corralled the two next to Lady Kalinska.

He wondered if he should question the two, but the man talked first, “The stampede knocked me out, and Luisa here got her ankle stepped on.”

The girl was in tears, “My lord, I tried to stop Lady Kalinska. I really did! I told her to abandon us and run away, but she got up into that truck instead!”

Finn blinked and looked at one of the policemen standing around. “Is that true?” he asked.

One of the policemen holding a submachine gun nodded. “Yeah. We were just on the scene when that cargo hauler started charging at the mech. We figured it needed a distraction, and we helped set it up. This small lady jumped out before the hauler hit the mech. When the mech fell though, we didn’t know what to do. She somehow opened up the hatch cover and dove in. It was crazy sir.”

Surprised, Finn looked down at Anastasia. It took tons of courage to take on mechs on foot in any circumstance. And she did it without any appropriate gear or training…

Hold on. Finn realised something was strange. How did she know to pop the cockpit canopy? And to make the mech fall… he looked at the positions of the cargo hauler and the mech. She hit the knee at the best angle to make it fall. This isn’t the sort of stuff you can simply learn from holovids. How would a delicate noblewoman like her have the gumption to even try it?

The only thing he knew about Anastasia was that she had had an affair with Baron Renard Haynes, and when the Baron rejected her, she tried to commit suicide by jumping into a lake. But after this unexpected incident, he had to change his view of Anastasia.

“Not many people, even if military, could have done that. And I mean that in all sincerity.” Spencer commented, his eyes scrutinising Anastasia as though she was an interesting puzzle he wanted to solve. The man had arrived along with some foot infantry deployed from an APC from the Haynes palatial manor.

Finn frowned and moved to block his view. “She’s my fiancee, and I don’t appreciate you staring at her.”

Spencer got the hint and backed away. Finn got a feeling the other man was not likely to let this go, however, and resolved to keep a closer eye on Anastasia in the future.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The novel which inspired the taking down of the Harvester was of course Hearts of Chaos, by Victor Milan, and one of the few where the protaganist is NOT a mechwarrior. Cassie Suthorn takes down a Battlemaster almost singlehandedly by popping the canopy and killing its mechwarrior.

Still, there were several problems with the scene as Milan wrote it. For example, if it was so easy to pop the cockpit canopy of a Battlemaster (or any battlemech, for that matter), then why all the hoohah over battlearmor? The way I see it, if rescue crews needed to pop the canopy top for battlemechs, they would probably need a finer touch, e.g. a small number panel to type in access codes, only capable by fingers in non-combat situations, plus the use of a specialised tool or two that usually only rescue crews would have. Even the humble screwdriver would do. Imagine trying to unscrew a panel under combat conditions!

But since in this story, it's just a Harvester, a civilian mech, then such security measures would not be needed, hence a simple panel which could be opened easily, plus the D pull handle.

[Sir Chaos]

Great scene. I look forward to seeing how Anastasia is going to explain her skills to Finn.


As for cockpit security, my head canon is that in battlemechs (as opposed to civilian machines), it´s an electronic lock that defaults to "open" when unpowered - probably with an autonomous short-term power supply, to keep the pilot safe if the mech shuts down from overheating. To allow access for rescue personnel, there´s some sort of dead man´s switch that unlocks the hatch if the neurohelmet reports the pilot to be unresponsive for a certain period - i.e. unconscious for more than just seconds, or dead. That sounds like a fairly simple, straightforward compromise between security and emergency accessibility to me.

[Starfox5]

Very nicely written. Now to milk that for propaganda - it is a good example of the "noblesse oblige" ideal so popular in BT society where nobles risk their lives to protect the civilians.

"the lack of messy hanging electrical cables informed her that the electrical grid was all underground, but this required vast maintenance and a robust infrastructure"

I'd thought that was standard in cities. It is in Switzerland - the only overground electrical lines are the big ones linking regions and power stations.

[The Wobbly Guy]

Innerman City, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
27th January, 3061
0000 hrs (1600 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Anastasia dreamed.

She was back in the sibko, together with the remaining kits who had not washed out of the brutal training. Their Kit Master, a retired warrior named Qlost, barked at them fiercely. “What makes us Clan?”

They recited together, on the hot tarmac of the parade square under the punishing rays of Huntress’s star.

"If we think kill, we will kill.
If we have a boot, we crush our enemy.
If we have a hand, we strangle our enemy.
If we have a club, we bludgeon the attacker.
If we have a knife, we stab our foe.
If we have a gun, we shoot it.
If we have a tank, we roll it over the opposing ranks.
If we have an aerofighter, we bomb them.
If we have a mech, we win.
We are always the victor.
When the blood is spilled, the bloodname is earned.
We are the Clans!"

We are the Clans!

She became aware of a dull humming in the background. She slowly opened her eyes, and found herself lying in her hoverlimo.

“You were murmuring throughout, you must be conscious enough to dream.”

Hearing the familiar voice, her gaze turned to the source of the voice. Across from her, Finn Rason sat with his arms crossed.

The sight of Finn’s arrogant face started to clear Anastasia’s mind.

Why am I here now? Oh yeah. A Harvester mech had gone on a rampage, and she had stopped it. Finn only arrived when it was almost all over. She wondered what mech he used, it was not a design she had seen before, since it was definitely not the Rifleman he had used on the clan frontlines. He was still clad in cooling vest and shorts, but had thrown on a jacket to look more presentable.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “The medic said there’s nothing much wrong with you, you didn’t suffer any injuries other than probably a few bruises.”

“I’m fine.” replied Anastasia. “What about my companions?”

He nodded, “Both of them suffered more serious injuries than you did and were sent to the hospital. Your driver might have a concussion, while your maid Luisa might have a fractured ankle, needs an X-ray to check. My man’s driving the limo now. I’m sending you home first.”

Anastasia felt a bit guilty for not remembering Luisa’s name correctly. She sighed in relief, at least they were safe. She took out her mobile phone and quickly typed out a message to the head butler, so that Ben and Luisa would not get into any more trouble. Furthermore, she insisted to him that the household would pay for any medical bills incurred. For once, the decadent wealth of an Inner Sphere noble came in handy.

“So you do have a heart.” He said rather callously. “I’ve thought you were cold and uncaring of anything.”

Ignoring the slight pangs of pain throughout her body, Anastasia slowly sat up. As she expected, Finn did not even try to help her as she struggled. She also did not want the help, so she was not complaining. Her long hair was tangled up and in a mess, but she ignored that and looked out the window.

The sky was already dark, and Inman’s two moons and the stars were shining since they were already away from the city, zooming along the road to the Kalinski Estate.

Finn continued to nag, “My lady, do you know how dangerous it was, to take on a mech like that? Please don’t be so reckless again. It would be very… inconvenient if anything serious happened to you.”

“……”

“If you continue to be this reckless, I will get your father to limit your outings.”

Anastasia quietly nodded her head. Finn seemed quite surprised by her passive acceptance, but that surprise quickly turned into suspicion from the look on his face.

Anastasia said, “I will be mindful. I did not mean to create trouble, I just needed to do something back then. I was too ignorant of my position.”

She could see guilt on his face. Obviously, his troops needed to respond quickly, and they really did. She had not expected a response so quickly. But when seconds and lives mattered, it meant people on the spot had to act. But nobody except her actually did anything. So he must have felt helpless when he realised she had already resolved the situation.

Hah! Take that, Finn Rason! She felt like gloating, to rub her victory into his face, but she was just too emotionally drained right now to actually do so.

Finn did feel guilty hearing Anastasia’s sincere self-chastisement. In fact, the militia had already been powering up in response to a surprise drill, and would have been there in moments, but Anastasia had already disabled the enemy. And he wasn’t there for her specifically, but she just happened to be there. Most importantly, she didn’t do anything wrong. Heck, they should give her some commendation award for her quick thinking, because she definitely saved lives there. Whether or not she was a noble didn’t matter.

He pondered for a moment whether he should correct this misunderstanding, but that disappeared once Anastasia spoke.

“In fact, I will make it simpler for you. From now on, you don’t have to take care of me. I will take care of my own business.”

He blinked. "What?"

"I'll tell my father too, so we won’t even need your help. We have been too troublesome, so we’ll just manage on our own.”

When she started talking, she had not meant to actually proceed to never asking for help again, but somehow her mouth moved faster than her brain, and once she had said it, she felt obliged to stand by her words.

Finn stared at her, and her look of determination seemed to cut him like a knife. She also seemed to be offended that she was so entangled with him.

“Did I do something wrong to you, Lady Anastasia?” The icy gaze she directed at him made Finn think again about whether he had done anything wrong to her specifically, but there was nothing he could think of. Did she even know she was doing it?

Anastasia spoke. “At least, if our engagement was even a little bit important to you, you would not have tossed me into the seat opposite you. Do you even have a conscience?"

He sputtered, "That…” When the driver had pointed out her hoverlimo to him, and after he had made arrangements for a driver and his Templar to be returned to base, Finn had carried her to her vehicle and placed her on the seat, then sat opposite her in the limo’s passenger cabin.

As a gentleman, even if they had no relationship, he should have at least made sure to protect her from falling off her seat by sitting next to her. But instead, he left her on the seat across from him without any hesitation and had just been observing her face waiting for her to wake up.

Yup, his behaviour was not befitting that of a gentleman and an officer, and furthermore, he was her fiance! When she pointed it out, he felt a stab at his conscience, but Anastasia’s blunt tone erased whatever guilty feelings her words had invoked.

"Well, I did not expect much from you anyway, so you can just forget about what I said. But even if you’re so unhappy about our engagement, you can’t just control my movements just because you are my fiance, Viscount Rason.”

She was being crude and offensive, but somehow he didn’t mind. So instead of answering, Finn just gave a twisted smile as a reply.

Anastasia Kalinska was a very strange woman. Finn again thought about what she did. The Anastasia he had met before wasn't like this. She was a stereotypical noble lady, just another pretty face. Had she been acting all along to hide her skills?

Then Anastasia noticed something outside her window, fixed her gaze on it, before she turned away and shook her head as if she had been mistaken about something.

“What? Is there something you saw?”

Perhaps it was because her actions were so outside of his expectation that Finn suddenly became curious about her. So, he ended up speaking first, which was a rare occurrence.

But Anastasia ignored his question. Finn wanted to say something to her, but he soon closed his mouth.

The soft yellow lights of the hoverlimo’s passenger cabin washed over her face, which somehow conveyed a strange melancholy.

Finn couldn't deny that he was becoming curious about this woman. That didn't bode well, but he just couldn't take his eyes off her.

Raldamax, Outworlds Alliance

“Woo! That was a blast!” Camille hooted in victory as she high fived a reluctant Larris.

Meanwhile, Erlin and Gast stood with the local militia commander as their combined support personnel supervised the partition of the supplies left by the defeated pirates. In the distance, smoking wreckage of the pirate force could still be seen, victims of their hard-hitting accuracy and evidence of the short battle.

Erlin was negotiating with Captain Santos, the local militia commander. Mentally he recalled the new terms the unit had wanted him to present.

“Captain, the previous agreement was that we take the mech parts and half the ammo, you take the rest.” The local militia had been so hard up for support against the pirates they were willing to accept nearly any terms.

Good thing the Jaguars’ Spleen was on hand. They sought minimal remuneration, while asking instead to be paid in food, supplies, salvage, spare parts, and recovered ammunition. The local militia had taken a huge risk by agreeing to contract them, they could just be another pirate band taking advantage to strike from within.

Erlin admitted quietly, “Our dropship is running out of space. My techs think we recovered enough of the Panther that we can put it together with the other Panther parts we already have to make a full mech. We think you can use it well.”

“One three-five tonner? With no mechwarrior?” Captain Santos grinned wryly. He knew just as well as Erlin did that trained mechwarriors were difficult to find. Erlin and his crew were by far the best mechwarriors Santos had ever seen.

Nevertheless, there was a reason why the old adage ‘Battlemechs are expensive, life is cheap’ still held true, even after the technological renaissance in recent years. Out here in the Periphery, just a single mech could make a huge difference.

“I am sure you can get some of your militia to try. Lots of willing volunteers, you know that.”

Santos whipped out a flask from a pocket, uncapped it, and took a long swig. Erlin knew it was alcohol, it was unprofessional, but out here in the boondocks, nobody cared.

“Gotcha. We’ll take it off your hands then, but we’re not exactly rolling in money.”

“No problem. Maybe one-point five million C-bills or barter equivalent to that? And before you think there is a snag, I guarantee it will be a fully functional Panther with working PPC and missile launchers. Your techs can check it out before we leave.”

Santos’ eyes widened. “That’s a real bargain, amigo. Sure, if you’re offering. And since we gave us such an offer, we’ll have one for you too. You folks are welcome to join our victory celebrations, food and drinks on the house!”

They shook hands to seal the deal. Santos added, “Lots of folks were wary of you when you came by, but you really proved yourselves. No merc commission board out here to vouch for anybody, I’m afraid.”

Erlin smiled thinly.

Santos continued, “And look, I know who you guys really are.” He did not elaborate, but they both knew what he meant, “Your mechs threw me off at first, but the way you guys shoot… heck, even most house regulars can’t do that!”

“Is that a problem?”

“Hell no! Out here in the Periphery, we don’t care much about interstellar politics. If anybody asks, you’re just a bunch of Samaritans passing through.”

Erlin’s smile widened a bit. “Always better to help good people.” Most of the others would not have understood that reference. He supposed that was why the rest of them had designated him to be leader - his training in the Cloisters of the Cloud Cobras gave him a better base of knowledge to interact with the Inner Sphere. More specifically, he had been a member of the Dharmo Cloister, based on Buddhist teachings, though every Cloister ensured their members were exposed to a wide range of religious beliefs.

Santos was right about their marksmanship too. The remnants of the Jaguar’s Mists barely escaped from Garstedt with four mechs, the Broadsword dropship Red Cavalcade, and they were just able to rendezvous with a fleeing Scout jumpship, Silence of Night. When the choices available were to rejoin the rest of the clan in their likely-doomed flight back to the homeworlds, or to stay in the Inner Sphere to seek vengeance against Pence Lamongue for his betrayal, the decision was immediate and near unanimous.

Most of the unit, including the support staff and even the crews of the ships, were isorla or abtakha from other clans, and held no real loyalty to the Smoke Jaguars. However, they were all fiercely loyal to Star Captain Avryl Showers, who had recognised their potential and put herself in the line of fire time and again to give them opportunities to prove themselves, forging them into a formidable unit capable of matching the best in both the Clans and the Inner Sphere. She was a ristar, and she had earned their loyalty.

Her death was a shock, and the survivors fully intended for Pence Lamongue to pay, one way or the other. If it required them to become mercenaries, then so be it.

They did not have much to go on, but they did pick up from a random media broadcast a picture of Pence in the background while a reluctant Finn Rason gave an interview to a member of the media. It was some Federated Commonwealth show welcoming home the war heroes of Operation Bulldog, the campaign to drive the Smoke Jaguars out of the Inner Sphere. That had been several months ago near the Draconis Combine periphery. But that was enough to go on.

They knew he was near Finn Rason. And they also managed to find out that Captain Finn Rason had just returned to his landhold of Delacambre as a Viscount, near the Davion periphery.

So that was where they were headed next. Besides, they also had unfinished business with Finn Rason.

They renamed themselves as a new mercenary unit, the Jaguar’s Spleen, in a tragically humorous allusion to their origins, and took up pirate-hunting jobs along the periphery, slowly gathering supplies and making their way to the former Federated Suns, now called the Federated Commonwealth. There had been a few betrayals and double-crosses, especially near Antallos, but they had managed to survive that turbulent area.

Their mechs and their skills gave them a significant edge against most run-of-the-mill pirate scum that preyed on vulnerable worlds without decent defences. They took down the better part of Sally’s Snookers, a small pirate band that pillaged Raldamax for ‘tribute’ regularly every six months for years. The rest of the Snookers consisted of a Trebuchet which blew up in an ammunition explosion, two Wasps which were only fit for salvage after being blasted to pieces by their combined firepower, and several APCs which the militia managed to cripple after the mechs had been eliminated from the field. The Snookers’ dropship had fled into space after the defeat of its ground forces.

Without the Spleen, the Trebuchet alone would have made mincemeat of the militia. Thankfully, the presence of the Spleen meant that the Snookers were the mincemeat this time round. And the addition of the Panther should stiffen up the local defences for whichever ragtag pirate band decided to pick on Raldamax next.

Their force composition was small but potent, a testament to the effort Star Captain Showers had put into the unit. Erlin piloted a relatively slow but powerful Blackjack-O, which served to anchor the unit. Gast’s Night Chanter, essentially an omni-Crab, isorla from an old Coyote cache that Avryl Showers had won possession of, where Gast had been taken in as bondsman in that same battle. Camille’s Owens, salvaged from a raid on the Draconis Combine. Larris’s Strider, also isorla taken in battle.

All omnimechs, though some were made with inferior Inner Sphere construction materials and engines. But the ability to equip them with clan-spec weaponry made them fearsome opponents and more than a match for the pirate rabble that inhabited the Periphery.

The appearance of their unit also made more than one pirate think they were a regular House Kurita unit instead of mercenaries, and even less would think of connecting them to the Smoke Jaguars. Which was just the way the Star Captain and saKhan Brandon Howell wanted when they designed their unit composition.

They had come a long way. But there was still an equally long way to go. Nine more jumps to Delacambre, Erlin thought. And then, Pence will pay!
--------------------------------------------------------
@Starfox5 - for various reasons, they'd downplay the incident, as you'll see in later chapters. The electrical grid being underground is only for well-planned cities with money and labour to spare. A lot of third world cities use overhead cables, which are of course susceptible to all sorts of stuff. For an Outback city to have this is only because it was planned and constructed by the Star League centuries ago.
@Sir Chaos - Whenever somebody asks Anastasia about her knowledge, she'd play it off as having done research on mechs due to her engagement. Finn wanted to ask, but got sidetracked by his concern over her condition and the curveballs she throws at him. Later one, he forgets completely because he's too distracted by his work and because he wrote it off as sheer luck. After all, she's just a crazy woman.

As most here would know, the verse at the beginning was lifted from Robert Thurston’s ‘Way of the Clans’, and that entire segment was probably something all clan sibkos learn, because it encapsulates much of clan philosophy.

The other memorable paragraph Thurston wrote in the same vein can be found at the end of ‘Bloodname’:

“Their commanding officer had ordered Ter Roshak's unit to stay alive as long as they could, and to keep on shooting the whole time. If they ran out of ammo, they were to use knives. If they lost their knives, then they must go after the nearest enemy with their bare hands. If their hands were broken, they must kick the enemy with their feet. If their feet were shot off, they must crawl to the enemy warriors and try in some other way to kill them. If they could not crawl, then they must fire into the nearest brush. If they could not move, then they must simply wait to die. If they could not die, then there must be something wrong with their attitude.”

That’s the clans for you, turning the edgelord dial up to eleven is kinda their entire raison d’etre. In fact, I tried to put a bit of Thurston's Joanna in Avryl, that is, if Joanna was a bit more mentally flexible and earned her bloodname, and hence wasn’t so bitter and hateful.

That documentary with Finn? That was one of Katherine SD’s PR traps to turn the FC against Victor and Yvonne, by promoting Victor’s efforts to help the Draconis Combine (and not the Lyrans) recover its worlds from the clans. Finn unwittingly played into that, because Katherine’s schemes were way above his paygrade. To be honest, the characters in this story are stuck in planetary and small regional politics, and they do not have the strategic overview to know any better. Read 'Prince of Havoc' to understand the purpose of highlighting the heroes of Operation Bulldog.

One of the things that always irked me in Btech was the sheer lack of understanding of the East by the writers, but that’s only to be expected by western-centric game designers. But for the Cloud Cobra Cloisters to not even pay a bit of lip service to two of the twentieth century’s major religions, Hinduism and arguably its more developed offshoot Buddhism? At least Victor Milan threw in some elements of these by fleshing out the Combine’s diversity in his novels, with Sufis, Jews, and the resultant culture clashes with the dominant brand of Buddhism in the Combine.

So I plopped in the Dharmo, which is based on the teachings of Buddhism. Naturally, this cloister tends towards a philosophy of defence, and its members tend to be more emotionally stable and to the Warden viewpoint. Don’t mistake their relative lack of belligerence for cowardice though! I visualise the Dharmo's philosophy as similar to the ones in Stirling's Emberverse series, the monks of Chenrezi Monastery.

[Starfox5]

And we find out what her old unit is up to. Ah, that will be a hell of a reunion...

[The Wobbly Guy]

Kalinski Estate, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
27th January, 3061
0100 hrs (1700 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

When Anastasia returned to the estate, it was almost the end of siesta, and the servants were all in an uproar. They seemed to know already that she had put herself in danger. As she walked in wearily, the waiting doctor ran up to her and started fussing over even the tiniest scratch.

Meanwhile, the butler seemed to be looking for Viscount Rason. Anastasia cleared her throat.

“If you're looking for the Viscount, he is gone," she said.

The butler's face seemed to say, 'but he is your fiance... ’, but Anastasia did not bother to make excuses for Finn Rason. In fact, the reason that he left was because she forced him to. He wanted to accompany her in the hoverlimo into the estate, but she instructed the driver to stop at the main gates, and even got one of the security guards to drive the vehicle in, dumping Finn and his driver outside the gates.

It was petty, it was insulting, but Anastasia did not care. Angry at her firm refusal, the Viscount just stomped away from the estate entrance, already calling on his mobile for his personal transport.

“Any news about Luisa and Ben?” Anastasia asked, lightly freeing herself from her doctor’s hold. She cheered inwardly when they did not correct her, which meant she had finally gotten the names right for once.

Luisa was her attendant maid, so she should always be with her. For her to be at the hospital away from her mistress could be considered a dereliction of duty. Thankfully, Anastasia had already squared it with the head butler.

But what happened with the mech would be much harder to explain. Anastasia hoped nobody would ask.

The head butler Kevin nodded. “Luisa called from the hospital. Ben has a concussion and is under observation. Her ankle is only badly bruised, the x-ray showed no fracture.”

She sighed in relief.

“I’ve sent somebody out to fetch Luisa back. She will have to face punishment. Ben too, once he is back.”

Anastasia  blinked. “I thought I already said they didn’t do anything wrong?”

Kevin grimaced. “My lady, they are supposed to serve your every whim, and if necessary, sacrifice themselves before allowing you to be in danger. They have failed their duty and will be punished.” He seemed terrified of her response.

Anastasia looked at him, and thought, I need to control the situation. They are not back yet, so there is still time.

He seemed to belatedly notice her condition, “You are hurt and must rest! We will discuss this later when you are better.”

Before she knew it, Anastasia was changed and tucked into her bed. She tried to focus on thinking of ways to get Louise and Ken out of their fix, but she was still so tired…

She was asleep within moments.

 
27th January, 3061
0900 hrs (2500 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

“Freebirth!” Anastasia woke up with a start. She looked out the window. It was dark outside. She had slept for so long that she had woken up just before the long sleep period.

I slept so soundly that I forgot about Louise and Ken! She thought frantically. She quickly threw on a dress suitable for indoor activities without calling for a maid, and rushed out. Even at this hour, there would still be servants around, getting the household ready for the night.

She was barely five steps out of her door when a maid intercepted her.

“Bring me to the head butler,” she ordered in her most imperious tone.

The maid nodded anxiously, “Of course, my lady.”

Kevin was giving instructions to some of the household staff in the dining room when she was brought to him. He turned with a start to face her.

“Oh, my lady! You should still be resting!”

She ignored his comment, and asked “How are they?” Savrashi, she forgot their names again, so she used a blanket ‘they’ instead.

She saw the staff around them exchange glances nervously. Because of what happened, Luisa was going to be fired, but they all felt it was pitiful for her to receive Anastasia’s cruel wrath as well. No matter how much nicer she had been these days, there would not be any mercy this time around.

Kevin sighed at the situation. For the lady to wake up at such a timing, she must be really angry at them and eager to punish them. Ben was still recovering in the bunks for their guards, but he would be fired soon without severance pay, while Luisa had been taken to their confinement room reserved for unruly or rude servants who needed punishment. Thankfully, her ankle was only badly bruised, not fractured as initially feared.

Anastasia took his silence for reluctance to answer her. She said, “Bring me to her then.”

"Huh?" Kevin grew even more worried. Although the room where the servants were confined was located inside the mansion, it was a place that Lady Kalinska had never visited. If she was asking to go there, perhaps she may have had something else in mind. Perhaps something even worse than whatever had happened before…

He tried to head her off, “My lady, first of all, you need to take care of your…”

At the butler's words, Anastasia quietly raised a hand and stopped him. There was somehow more power in that brief gesture than in her anger-filled voice, and the butler could only acquiesce and led the way quietly.

The disciplinary confinement room was located in the most secluded part of the mansion. It was a dark, narrow, and gloomy place, as befit its position for punishing servants.

They stopped at the entrance of a hallway. Anastasia glanced at the door at the end of the hallway and gestured with her chin to open it.

The servants opened the door.

There was hardly any light in the room. Inside, Anastasia could hear the sound of a girl sobbing on the floor. As the door opened and light leaked in, she startled and looked up, and when she saw Anastasia standing there, she looked terrified.

Ana glanced around the room and then directly walked over to Louise.

Everyone thought that Anastasia would finally take her anger out on her. To the servants, their lady’s anger was natural. Regardless of the circumstances, it was her maid’s duty to protect her mistress. And Anastasia had been very close to getting killed by the deranged Harvester.

“Oh, Miss, I’m sorry, I was wrong!” Louise begged, putting her hands together as she wept.

When Anastasia reached out with her hand, Louise cringed from it. Anastasia adjusted and tapped the maid on the shoulder instead. "Get up."

Louise stood up, trembling, favouring her injured ankle. She seemed to want to say something, but was too afraid to do so.

Anastasia looked at her face. “She has not been beaten yet, right?” she asked the butler standing behind her.

"Yes, that’s correct. We had to wait for my lady’s decision,” the butler answered, a bit afraid of what was about to happen.

Anastasia nodded her head and breathed a sigh of relief as she examined the maid’s face. "I'm glad."

Louise’s face grew pale with fear, expecting the worst when Anastasia meted out her punishment personally.

Anastasia gestured with her eyes for the maid to follow her. She gestured to another maid to support Louise so she would not aggravate her ankle injury.

The servants look puzzled. What? Did she intend to punish her in her room? Then why did she come all the way here and take her? They simply thought that Anastasia would punish her maid, so they did not dare to guess that she had simply acted out of goodwill towards her maid.

As they walked off slowly, Anastasia leading the way, she noticed out of her peripheral vision a terrified Louise looking at the butler. Kevin kept his mouth shut and looked at her sadly with a silent gesture for her to just ask for forgiveness. Louise burst into tears, obviously afraid of what was going to happen to her.

Anastasia controlled her own facial expression. Was the original Anastasia really so barbaric? So much so for the servants to fear her wrath to this extent? She knew there were other Smoke Jaguar commanders almost as depraved, but even then their cruelty did not seem so petty, so wasteful…

More importantly, on some levels it could be argued they had earned the right to do so, via martial skill demonstrated in brutal Trials of Positions, Bloodname contests, and the like. While Anastasia had simply been born to it, and taken it as her natural right, when it was anything but.

"My lady." When they reached her room, the butler tried to follow her into the room, but she raised her hand to stop him. The butler was so surprised at her gesture that he halted.

Upon entering the room, Louise immediately fell to the floor, head bowed, and knelt on her knees. Ana tried to lift her up. “I am sorry. I caused you to be hurt..”

“…Huh?"

Anastasia saw Louise raise her head. She could see the doubt and the fear in the girl’s eyes, wondering if her currently kind words were just another trick to get her into even deeper trouble.

She patted Louise’s shoulder gently with one hand to express her apology. Louise was so startled that she almost let out a scream.

Anastasia did not know why, but she felt sad at the maid’s response. “I’m sorry, it was my fault.”

“Oh, no. I… I… I should have been more careful. I should have been more aware…”

Anastasia shook her head, “How would that have changed anything?”

She looked at Louise, who was still frightened.

“Tell them I took care of your punishment. You must have been so scared back then, and your ankle was hurt too. I will tell the butler that I scolded you in moderation. If you say you were not scolded, you'll get even more punishment."

“…Miss?"

Anastasia sighed, “What else can I say? If you want to be angry at me, then be angry. I deserve it. I placed myself at risk.”

“…!” She could see the shock on Louise’s face, in her eyes.

“If you don’t have anything to say, you can leave. Go and get some rest. Ask one of the other maids to get you a walking stick or a crutch so it does not hurt your ankle when you move about.”

Anastasia noticed Louise staring at her, her eyes looking down at the purple bruises on her arms, exposed by the short sleeved dress she was wearing. She could only guess at what the other girl was thinking.

“Oh, my lady!” Anastasia was surprised to see her maid suddenly burst outright into tears. When she first met Louise, she had been a quiet and professional maid so seeing her crying over such a small thing was a shock, and she was especially defenceless to those who cried.

Like most clan warriors, she was rarely exposed to others crying, since the ethos of militaries everywhere was the same - you do not cry since it does not solve the problem or defeat the enemy; you suck it up and focus on the mission, get the job done. And especially in the clans, most tears had long been beaten out of the cadets in the sibko.

Anastasia felt woefully under-equipped to deal with crying people. And being harsh in a military way would not be appropriate here.

“Louise, don’t cry. Please stop crying, Louise."

“Aww, miss, I was wrong! Never again!”

“Yes, yes.”

Anastasia, not knowing what to do with her, went closer to Louise and patted her on the shoulder.

“And it is Luisa, my lady. It’s not Louise,” corrected Luisa through her tears.

"Oh, sorry. Luisa. I must have hurt you.”

Luisa was a simple girl, and when her mistress finally showed her kindness, she let go of the lingering resentment she had built up ever since she started working for the Kalinskis.

 
Haynes Palatial Manor
3rd February, 3061

Raymond, the second son of Count Haynes, looked like any other bookworm, with thick black spectacles, a nerdy disposition, and always seemed meek and submissive to others. He smiled as he greeted Renard Haynes.

"Brother, what a pleasant surprise to see you here!”

Baron Renard Haynes sat right in front of him at the tea table in the garden of the manor, conversing with Countess Priscilla, their mother.

The Countess smiled brightly.

“Come and sit down, Raymond,” she said.

Unlike the brightly smiling Raymond, Baron Haynes frowned. Either way, Raymond sat down next to the Countess, smiling.

“It’s good to see you two together after so long,“ the Countess said with a kind smile.

“If it looks that good to you, Mother, I think we should visit more often in the future,” responded the Baron.

The Countess’s hand trembled lightly as she held her teacup. Raymond smiled. So, she knows.

He said, “Brother, the responsibilities of the heir are many, and you must be busy with government affairs, yet you still found time to visit? If so, the rumours that you and mother are not on good terms will disappear. I bet father will be happy too.”.

Renard frowned. Even jokingly, it was clear that he was reluctant to spread the word that he had a good relationship with the Countess.

The current Countess Priscilla was the second one to be married to Count Haynes, and Renard was not her son. The former Countess Feodora died of an illness when Renard was only five years old, upon which Count William raised his mistress Priscilla, Raymond’s birth mother, to become Countess.

Renard was about to say more, but Raymond interrupted him. “So, what were you talking about? Is this something I can hear?”

Renard smiled twistedly. “We were talking about the upcoming banquet for the Feast of Bounty.”

“Oh?”

Inman was initially settled by poor rural farmers from Europe, disenfranchised by the growing divide between the elites and the rest of society. Generally adherents of the New Avalon Catholic Church, the people of Inman did not have many official holidays for celebration. Other than the national holidays of the Federated Suns (Day of Honour, Festa Piepa, Federation Day, New Year, while Kentares Day is a day of mourning and does not count as a holiday), and a few religious holidays that were simply too important to just ignore (Good Friday, which actually goes with Festa Piepa, and Christmas), there was not much respite from work, especially in the earlier part of the standard year.

Therefore, the early settlers of Inman decided to celebrate the harvests of their agricultural world in late February, and also to spread out the holidays a bit. The Feast of Bounty was one of the biggest celebrations on Inman, and the ruling Counts would hold an elaborate banquet as part of it. It was the biggest banquet besides the Federation Day banquet, and even the nouveau riche could snag invitations and try to curry favour with the established aristocrats.

Besides, the incident of the Harvester gone wild had shocked everybody into inaction, putting all the protests on hold, buying time for the administration to defuse tensions. Vague promises of action from the authorities managed to placate many of the populace, while a number of officials were fired as scapegoats for their involvement. Many of the private firms were also given fines.

Renard got away with a mere rebuke from Count Haynes, and since it was not strictly illegal, no further action was warranted.

So Renard went back to enjoying his life and making it difficult for others.

Raymond asked, “Is there a problem?”

"No." Renard looked like he couldn't contain his laughter as he shook his head. "I have someone I want to invite. I’ve come to make a special request personally to the Countess herself."

“Oh, who is it? I'm curious too."

Renard giggled again at Raymond’s naive question. The sound of laughter was vulgar, but neither Raymond nor the Countess frowned, because Renard might have taken offense.

"Baron Kalinski."

“If it’s Baron Kalinski, then he’s already been invited.”

"No, it's not just Baron Kalinski…”

Renard turned the teacup on the tea table with his hand and wiped his mouth.

“Anastasia Kalinska. I want to see his daughter.”

The Countess's face turned pale. Everyone knew that Baron Kalinski's daughter had jumped into the manor lake longing for Renard's love.

“Mother, as you are in charge of the banquet, please help by using your power. I want to see her too, as I never had a chance to see her after the incident. I couldn't even visit her at her estates.”

“Renard, the Baron’s daughter hasn’t recovered her health. And haven’t you heard? She’s not feeling well again because she was recently involved in that riot.”

As Baron Kalinski was part of the faction that supported Renard, no one dared to ridicule him openly. But Anastasia was a different story.

The incident was less than two months old, and the ridicule and contempt that Anastasia would face due to the harsh social nature of women was beyond imagination.

"That’s why I am upset. Seeing her again will make relieve my worries. Mother, please do me this favour."

“Renard, that might be difficult.”

At her response, he flung his teacup at the white statue next to the tea-table.

The Countess was startled as red tea soaked the statue’s surface. He felt the faces of the maids standing next to him shift to fear.

“Excuse me, mother. There was a crack in my teacup. I think the maid in charge of this should be punished,” Renard said with a smile.

At Renard's glance, one of his guards roughly grabbed the arm of the maid, who was standing right next to him serving the tea. She gasped in terror despite her efforts to keep her face emotionless.

“Baron Haynes!”

He smiled when the Countess called out as if to dissuade him.

“I don’t think you ordered her to bring me a broken teacup on purpose. I hope you didn’t do this because you hate me."

Despite the tense confrontation, Raymond drank his tea quietly, not interjecting in any way.

"It's said that Baron Kalinski's daughter had an accident, and to order for her to show up so quickly may put the Baron in an uncomfortable position."

“Baron Kalinski is my uncle on my mother’s side. How can he be angry with me?”

As his guard clasped the maid's wrist and squeezed, a whimper escaped from her mouth. She was well trained, so she did not openly cry or beg for her life, but tears were dripping from her eyes.

There was no way there could have been a crack in the teacup she served. Renard had simply made an excuse to force the Countess to comply.

“Do it, Mother,” Raymond said softly. "Renard wants to see her, so there is no reason not to listen. Brother is heir, he knows what he is doing. I am sure Baron Kalinski will not mind."

“...”

Renard smiled smugly with Raymond siding with him.

Raymond had always been meek in front of Renard, and since he took his side, the Countess had no reason to refuse either.

“I will do it.”

“Thank you as always, mother,” Renard smiled brightly.

 
6th February, 3061

This was serious, very serious. Not the rumours swirling around, but the conclusions others had made publicly. It happened not long after the incident with the Harvester.

After that incident, the security guards became more vigilant, but for some reason, her maids were more relaxed than ever before.

Anastasia’'s own apology and waiver of Luisa’s punishment had been heard by the other servants.

It was only natural that the reputation of the young lady would change, as she had even apologised to her maid and said that it was her own fault, rather than getting angry with her, even though she had almost died.

Moreover, as if she was regretful about what she did, Anastasia complied with the servants’ requests quietly without being annoyed. She followed their instructions without complaint. She had already nearly died a few times in the short span of a month, but this might have prompted her to become the ideal mistress to the servants.

But some very serious problems remained. She had lost her memory and they welcomed the change in her personality, but the problem was that she seemed to have forgotten everything except how to speak.

She was much more active nowadays, working out everyday, and it was impossible to ignore her strange mannerisms, especially the way she walked. Sometimes her tone of speech was fierce and startlingly direct too.

The maids tried to rationalise it by thinking that it could be an aftereffect of almost dying, or she was feeling ill because she was hungry and cranky. However, that was just them trying to ignore the seriousness of the situation.

Her gait was clearly different from that of commoners, but it wasn't the gentle gait of a nobleborn woman. That was to say…

“It’s like the footsteps of a soldier, not a lady. Like a bullet, purposeful and direct.”

As if shocked by the butler's words, the Baron’s face turned white. That was the conclusion that the butler of the mansion, the one most sensitive to Anastasia’s changes, had reached.

“It seems that the aftermath of the… uhm… accident is rather serious because she lost her memory.”

“No, what…”

“There is not a lot of time before the banquet for the Feast of Bounty. We have to find a way somehow.”

“How do I do this… How could this happen…”

Stravag, why are you talking about me so freely when I am right here? Anastasia listened to the conversation between the butler and the Count without interrupting while drinking her tea. The Baron’s face turned pale as he saw the way she drank the tea.

Avryl was a trueborn, raised to be a mechwarrior from birth. Everything she learned was about how to kill and conduct war more effectively and efficiently. Social etiquette, especially that of the aristocracy of the Inner Sphere, was unknown to the clans. Besides, the greedy nobles of the Inner Sphere were widely considered to be one of the reasons for the fall of the Star League, and anything associated with them was frowned upon.

Anyway, Avryl had never learned the manners of a noblewoman, and she did not think she would be able to do so in the short time available.

The easiest solution to the problem for the Baron was to say, “Anastasia can’t go because she is still sick”, but that idea was immediately rejected. The Countess had sent the invitation directly. No one turned down a handwritten invitation from the Countess.

Anastasia, unaware that Baron Haynes and the Countess were not related by blood, assumed that the Countess was furious that she had marred her son's dignity.

It looks like I am going to be embarrassed, she thought indifferently.

"It's the first time she is officially out in public after the announcement of her engagement, so she will also have to dance with the Viscount Rason,” said the butler.

Oh, that was just perfect. Anastasia laughed as she thought of putting on heels, preferably sharp ones, and stepping on his feet. It was fun just imagining what expression Finn would make. It would be fitting payback for the times he thwarted her on the battlefield.

“I can learn to dance,” she said.

“In two weeks? Absolutely not. My Ana is smart, but that's not possible."

First of all, she knew she was lacking in aristocratic knowledge or manners, but when it came to dancing, she was confident she was able to learn.

She remembered Camille once telling her that dancing was similar to physical combat, in that both were about moving the body. Difference was, combat was about mutual resistance, while dancing was about mutual cooperation. But they both relied on good body control, which was something Anastasia was confident about, especially after her physical training in recent days. And it seemed her reflexes were not much different from when she was Avryl.

She yawned to show her disdain. The Baron gave her a concerned look, but she ignored him.
----------------------------------------
The festivals and holidays of the Federated Commonwealth/Suns can be found in Handbook: House Davion. Btech players should be familiar with what Kentares Day is about.

Calculating holidays, especially Good Friday and Easter Sunday in 3061, was a pain, but I managed to find a spreadsheet that does that up to 9999.

So in the Trivet (Inman), the official public holidays in 3061 are:

New Year Celebration: 1st January
Feast of Bounty: 21st Feb (3rd Thursday of each Feb)
Good Friday: 29th March
Easter Sunday: 31st March
Festa Piepa: 31st March - 2nd April
Labour Day: 1st May
Federation Day: 26th June
Day of Honour: 18th July (3rd Wednesday of each July)
Assumption Day: 15th August
Kentares Day: 4th October (1st Friday of each October)
All Saints’ Day: 1st November
Landing Day (Founding of Inman): 30th November
Christmas: 25th December

Is it enough public holidays? Or do you think there should be more? For those wondering about Thanksgiving, that's an American holiday, while Inman was settled by poor rural folks from Spain and France (hence the catholic holidays and siesta).

[The Wobbly Guy]

This is more of a transitional chapter leading up to a staple event of every otome isekai work - the ball!
----------------------------------
Kalinski Estate, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
14th February, 3061

Generally, re-teaching manners to a nobleborn woman over the age of twenty would be a major scandal in the social world, no matter the circumstances.

Thus, the teacher the Baron quietly secured was not a famous etiquette teacher, but Madame Iris, who was known for teaching etiquette to non-nobles.

Madame Iris, the third daughter of a knight, had been the second mistress to a viscount somewhere else in the Draconis March. After the viscount died from cancer, she gathered what money she had saved up and set off for the Trivet worlds to establish a new life for herself. Her funds were limited so she could not live as extravagantly as before.

However, since she was born into the aristocracy, was part of the viscount's family for a long time, and was diligent in keeping up with the etiquette formalities, her training was coveted by wealthy commoners. They longed for the life of the aristocrats even if they had no access to it, but by educating their children, there was a chance they could get a foothold in the aristocracy, via marriage or alliances.

So Madame Iris earned her own livelihood by educating the children of wealthy commoners in the social etiquette of the nobles. Then one day she received a call from Baron Kalinski’s butler.

The Kalinskis were not particularly influential, even in the Trivet, but they were related to Baron Renard Haynes, the presumed heir to Count William Haynes, through his mother, the first Countess. And so they could not be ignored either.

Madame Iris had wondered who she could educate in such a family, and was startled to find out that it was the Baron’s daughter. If she was the daughter of the Baron, she must have been educated from an early age by excellent teachers already. So why was she needed at all?

In addition, she was also worried. Despite being new to the Trivet worlds, she knew the importance of keeping tabs on the aristocracy, so she had heard about Anastasia’s terrible personality that was completely incongruous with her beauty. And like everybody else, she also knew what Anastasia had done during the New Year Celebrations.

It seemed that this was the reason she would be paid very well. But no matter how much she had lowered herself to teach commoners, she still had her own pride to consider. If the Baron’s daughter was rude to her, she intended to quit immediately. But it seemed Baron Kalinski’s daughter had been alternating between being rude and polite in various settings, so she was also not sure of the girl’s true personality.

She was a bit surprised when they met. Anastasia greeted her and admitted, “Madame, I lost my memory in an accident, so I need to take lessons from you.”

Oh, she lost her memory in the aftermath of that ‘accident’, so she forgot her lessons.

Since Anastasia did not look down on her as a half-noble and instead respectfully asked her for instruction, Madame Iris thought she was actually a decent girl.

But that thought lasted only for a short time. The Baron’s daughter listened to her instructions, but the pace of learning was slower than she had expected.

“How many times do I have to say it? Your steps should not be light, but moderately heavy. A light gait makes a person look frivolous."

“All right.”

Anastasia tried to walk in the cumbersome skirt, her steps were heavier this time, but she walked  as if her feet were wrapped with lead. Madame Iris thought Anastasia easily had the talent to dance well, but the problem was that it seemed as though Anastasia had never learned the concept of 'elegance'.

Furthermore, it seemed that Anastasia did not understand why she had to learn this. Sometimes the young woman would grab the hem of her skirt and shake it in frustration.

Madame Iris knew that if Anastasia was not convinced of the necessity of learning, her speed would naturally slow down. It seemed that the manners that she had learned remained in her memory to some extent, but she was far short of being able to attend the banquet with the proper etiquette.

“My lady, do you not understand what I am saying?”

“Elegantly. If my footwork looks too light, it looks frivolous, so it needs to be heavy but elegant. I get it.”

Although the girl was listening, Madame Iris was getting tired of teaching Anastasia, who was growing more and more frustrating. She lacked the enthusiasm for learning that aspiring commoner girls have.

“Sit down, my lady.”

When Madame Iris pointed to the sofa to let her rest, Anastasia stomped over and leaned against the sofa. Madame Iris frowned. “My lady is obviously smart. But you seem unmotivated to do what you can.”

At that, Anastasia sighed in exhaustion.

“Because I don’t understand.”

“What is it you don’t understand?”

“What is the standard of elegance? Why is it so important to know how to hold your skirt? No, I don't understand the dress either. Why do I have to wear such a heavy skirt? There are many comfortable clothes. Why not pants? Or a jumpsuit? Why do women talk in such a roundabout way? If there's something you want to say, why not just say it right away? Who decides all of these in the first place?”

Madame Iris was astounded. Nobody had ever asked these questions. Everybody had just accepted it as the way things were. For the nobles, it was tradition, and the commoner people simply followed along.

“That’s what nobles should do.”

Anastasia frowned, "That is not true. Many men don't talk in a roundabout way. Male nobles just smile and move on even if they don’t walk with the right manners. Even if they behave crudely, it's not a big deal. It seems that such things are only asked of women.”

"You talk as if you've been hanging out with men, my lady."

At those words, Anastasia closed her mouth. As an older and more experienced woman, Madame Iris recognized immediately that Anastasia was hiding something.

However, what Anastasia had said was not entirely wrong. Crude behaviour from noblemen was tolerated to a greater extent than when it came from noblewomen. For women who did not behave with the right etiquette, they would receive criticism from other women and be socially ostracised. Thus, manners were more important to women.

“Men and women are not the same,” Madame Iris said calmly.

At those words, Anastasia’s face hardened. Even as Anastasia, it was difficult for her to accept the situation. She used to think this was a matter for others to worry about, not her, but she now was spending unbelievable amounts of mental energy on learning the correct etiquette. It was annoying how often she was called out for minor details that were never important, like how she walked.

‘Men and women are not the same’ was something that was never said in the clans. While it was true that men had physical advantages over women in general, extensive training and selective breeding over many generations had somewhat negated those advantages. Men and women compete on equal grounds in everything, from Trials of Positions to Trials of Bloodright. No concession was given to women, and none given when different phenotypes compete unaugmented either.

Avryl suppressed an internal wince when she recalled her brutal unaugmented duel against a male elemental during the final round of her Trial of Bloodright. If the locals thought blindsiding a Harvester was considered brave, she wondered what they would think of facing a genetically engineered two-point-three metre tall tower of hulking muscle in unarmed combat. To this day, she still could not quite believe how she won that fight. Well, she had Tiaret to thank for all the tips…

And this invitation… it was probably an opportunity for Baron Haynes to humiliate her after she had caused a scandal with the attempted suicide. She hated being manoeuvred into such a disadvantageous position, but she had no choice but to catch up as fast as she could.

Madame Iris continued speaking. “When men behave crudely, they are still judged. It may not be apparent, but they are. And good, proper etiquette is how nobles display their wealth and status, above those who are not part of the aristocracy. Furthermore, the education of noblewomen has a purpose.”

Purpose? Anastasia tilted her head in silent query.

“The strict etiquette of noblewomen symbolises the prestige of their families, as well as the prestige of their world, and finally the state. It is the same regardless of which Successor State we are in.”

“Then what about the noblemen?” She thought of Baron Kalinski, and Finn.

“Men have more opportunities to enhance the prestige of their families, through victories in battle, or successful governance. Sure, some noblewomen can still choose these paths, but here in the Outback, very few actually do, usually only those born into martial families who do it out of duty and tradition, and they start from a young age. Which other noblewomen would know from young to do this? So for the majority of noblewomen here, they can only show it through their manners and clothes. From the way they talk, to even the seams and pleats of their dresses.”

Madame Iris had given her a straightforward answer, and Anastasia was at a loss for words. She had never realised just how backwards some of these worlds are. The women of the aristocracy were essentially props for their families, so they had to learn all these. In a sense, they were defending their families as much as holding a gun or a sword.

Anastasia sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Here, too, they had a reason of their own. They were not idiots who only cared about clothes. If a family's prestige was to be defended with a fancy dress and steely words, then their way of life should also be respected. She supposed it was no different in the clans, with how each Bloodhouse zealously protected its reputation.

Madame Iris wondered inwardly whether she had offended Anastasia with her words. After the viscount died and she had to leave without disrupting his family, she had finally thought about this: what was the difference between the nobles and the commoners? So when Anastasia asked, she was able to give her opinions because she had already thought about the issue. Madame Iris conceded mentally that she might not be correct, but that was really her honest opinion.

"I see. I understand,” Anastasia finally said, smiling. “If this is their way, then I will just have to follow.”

She straightened her back and rose gracefully from her seat. Her somewhat rigid movements and free-spiritedness were gone. “Then, shall we try our best until the banquet?”

Like all other people, Madame Iris agreed that Anastasia was beautiful, but that was only on appearances alone. But when she combined it with the elegance and bearing of a noblewoman, Madame Iris felt the full impact of her charisma and understood why she was bestowed the nickname of ‘White Lotus’ by admirers and detractors alike.

 
Haynes Palatial Manor
18th February, 3061

“What are you worrying about?”

At Raymond’s words, Countess Priscilla lifted her head.

In the dull sunlight, the Countess stood in front of the golden birdcage, listening to the canaries singing. It was one of the things she did when she was worried.

“The banquet is happening soon.”

"Yes, it is,” Raymond nodded his head.

“I’m worried about Baron Kalinski’s daughter.”

At the words of his mother, Raymond looked at her gently.

"She brought such difficulties upon herself. You don't have to worry about it that much, mother."

His tone was soft, but his words were cold.

“Baron Haynes seems to be trying to create a rift between me and Baron Kalinski,” the Countess said, smiling bitterly.

“Is that so?”

She sent the invitation directly in the name of the Countess, so from the Baron's point of view, it was apparent that he would resent the Countess.

Renard was not wary of his brother Raymond but wary of the Countess, the leading lady of the Trivet. When he became Count, she would become the Countess Dowager, and he had to be wary of her political power.

“Even though he needn’t do so.” She sighed and placed her hand on her forehead.

“I think it’s just because my brother was acting up again.”

“You think so?”

“You know his personality well enough, don’t you?”

At that, the Countess nodded her head. They were both well aware of Renard’s sadistic character. Raymond stood next to the Countess and observed her birdcage.

“If he bothered to think about it, he wouldn’t have done that.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Wouldn’t he offend Finn?”

Viscount Finnickerhet Ian Rason was engaged to Baron Kalinski’s daughter. Mocking his fiancée, even if she was admittedly flawed in many ways, was directly linked to the honour of the Viscount. That would not be pleasant.

“Unlike Baron Kalinski, Finn would have immediately noticed that it was brother, not mother, who invited the Baron’s daughter because he hates brother’s personality.”

Raymond took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses with the hem of his robe.

"But in this case, you should just act a bit offended and then drop the issue. If we behave as though it’s not a big deal, then there is no insult either.” He continued, “I know Finn very well. Even though he looks like that, he's not really that cold-hearted. Well, except towards me.”

Raymond folded his glasses neatly and put them in his pocket, revealing his sharp eyes.

“Even if she is damaged goods and the engagement was forced, she is his fiancée. Inviting his fiancée there to insult her is to insult Finn too. Finn will never forget this if my brother goes through with his plan. But that’s Renard’s problem.”

“……”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have given any reason to turn Finn into an enemy.”

Raymond’s eyes were shining sharply without his glasses. The genial smile on his face had turned into a sneer.


Kalinski Estate
21st February, 3061
0900 hrs (0900 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Anastasia did the best she could to learn proper etiquette, what should have taken years condensed into the span of just two weeks. By the day of the banquet, she was able to somewhat act like a noble.

Despite studying as hard as she could, she did not manage to completely memorise the various relationships between the nobles, or how to conduct a conversation politely. Nevertheless, she did manage to carry herself somewhat convincingly as a noblewoman.

Madame Iris had been perfectly blunt with her assessment. "With all due respect, there won’t be anyone who would want to bring up a conversation with you about what you have done."

“You mean like stupidly jumping into the lake to beg Baron Haynes for his love?”

“That’s right. So, you do remember what you have done."

She was praised, but somehow it made her feel bad. Madame Iris sighed at Anastasia’s expression.

“You will definitely be ridiculed at the banquet hall.”

"The easiest solution would be to not go, but I couldn't do that….”

Why did I have to end up in a body like this to suffer? she thought. But if she had to attend a banquet anyway, it was better to just get it over with. Avryl was a Smoke Jaguar warrior, she faced her problems and enemies head-on!

It’s just a banquet. She was acting as Anastasia, but the reality hadn't settled in yet. When she met Finn, she became intensely aware of her original self as Avryl, but presently, her life seemed to be floating somewhere unknown.

“It’s like I’m in a dream.”

"What?"

“No, it’s nothing.”

Anastasia laughed bitterly. If she did not accept that she was dreaming, she would not be able to understand what was happening to her. How could she admit that she, a Smoke Jaguar ristar, was now a noble-born lady and was going to attend a banquet in the Federated Commonwealth?

It was so much easier to treat everything like a dream.


1500 hrs (1500 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Before the banquet, her maids were bustling since the first activity period. First, she had to soak in a bath full of scented water.

Seeing the maids were all in high spirits to dress her up, she felt drained out. She had never guessed the day would come when she had to wear a fancy dress. If any of her warriors were to see her, they would laugh so hard until they fainted. She stood numbly as they dressed her up.

“Are you ready, my lady?” said her maid, Luisa, who was standing next to her. Anastasia nodded her head. Was a corset such a big deal? Or more specifically, why was it so important that they have to do what is called ‘tightlacing’?

“Ok… now breathe in and hold!” While Anastasia hugged a pillar as Luisa tightened the corset, it was apparent that the maid had done this before.

Anastasia was surprised at how painful the process was. And was it not harmful to compress the upper body to this extent? All right, so there is a reason for women to learn etiquette. But what is the reason for corsets and tightlacing? Is it to kill a woman? Deliberately weaken her? Ouch! This is torture!

Avryl had undergone resistance-to-interrogation training in the sibko, so she could definitely speak from first hand experience. Maybe even waterboarding wasn’t as bad as this.

“Louise, do you hate me for what happened?”

“Ah, no. How can I get mad at my dear lady? Come on, suck in more.”

If the reason for tightlacing and corsets was for noblewomen to look pretty, and looking pretty was their job, then Anastasia finally understood just how hard they had been working, if they had to endure such torture!

“Louise, I was wrong, sorry!”

“I’m Luisa.”

When her name was called wrong again, Luisa pressed her foot against the wall and tightened her corset even more.

 

After finally finishing, Anastasia looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was beautiful.

“Acceptable.”

Her maids frowned at Anastasia's bland sentiment. She was, of course, aware of her own face standing here, but she was not impressed even with the decorations, as that face was Anastasia’s.

Her long hair was pulled up and pinned, and her pale face came alive with the cosmetics applied by her maids when she had her eyes closed. Her face, which she thought was quite pretty from the beginning, was transformed into a more beautiful look when she dressed up.

What did they call Anastasia? The White Lotus of Altoona? She compared that to Avryl, who had been called the Black Lotus, the double-edged moniker coming from DCMS soldiers who both feared and admired her battlefield prowess. However, Anastasia and Avryl were simply too different to be compared in any way.

Anastasia looked at the dress she was wearing, a strapless design that exposed her shoulders and arms. It was a mix of white and deep marine blue, and adorned with jewels and flowers.

It was also expensive and an utter waste of resources. She sighed and reminded herself. I am Anastasia. I decided to live as Anastasia.

She opened the door of her room and stepped out. When she went down to the lobby on the first floor, her father was waiting for her wearing formal attire. He looked at her and seemed to be at a loss for a moment, but immediately smiled brightly.

She carefully gripped the hem of her skirt to keep it from wrinkling.

“Ana, you are so beautiful.”

"I think so, too."

The Baron burst into laughter at the unintentionally blurted words.

“You seem to be recovering your memories. An excellent sign."

Anastasia must have been a person who had confidence in her outer appearance. She understood because it wasn't unfounded.

The Baron dressed very stylishly, as befit his status as a wealthy nobleman. Even she could see that his clothes were made of different, exquisite materials. Anastasia involuntarily reached out her hand and fiddled with her dress. The Baron smiled.

“I’m sorry.”

"Why?"

"I am sorry for forcing you to go to the banquet."

"It's fine."

It didn’t need to be said. How many aristocrats could have refused the Countess's invitation?

The Baron seemed bewildered by Anastasia's nonchalant reply, but he gently placed his hand on her head and stroked it.

Anastasia felt the affection from the Baron. It was a strangely warm feeling tickling her chest, but somehow it turned into tingling pain in the corner of her heart.

"I hope that today you don't make the same mistake as before. Please don’t do things that would place Baron Haynes in a predicament.”

"Okay,” Anastasia responded obediently and grabbed his arm, and they headed towards the hoverlimo.

But, well, she wasn’t sure how she would react when she saw the Spheroid nobles eating and living in luxury. However, she wasn’t lying either when she said that she would try to live as Anastasia and did not intend to cause trouble. She had made her decision, she intended to carry it through.

Guided by the Baron's hand, she got into the vehicle, and the hoverlimo headed towards the Haynes palatial manor.

She started off relaxed, but her nerves started up again as they approached their destination.

--------------------------------------

A common trope in otome isekai is societal attitudes towards women in the military, and I felt this point needed to be addressed somewhat with regards to the Btech universe, which had always been gender-egalitarian from its beginnings. However, backwaters like the Trivet are just as likely to revert to more traditional roles, unless the tradition of the noble or martial family is to have their scions learn regardless of gender.

This is exacerbated by the relatively low proportion of non-infantry forces in their militaries, because the bulk of the garrisons in the Outback at both the planetary or household levels are infantry. So attitudes percolate upwards and downwards, resulting in the situation described above.

For combat vehicles, aerospace, protomechs, and even battle armour, it’s easy to see how women can fight on even footing with men (skill over sheer strength). But when it comes to conventional infantry… Probably only the clans have an even mix of genders in their conventional infantry forces (the Steel Vipers come to mind), and elementals of course have no problems. For everybody else, the sheer amount of upper body strength (thanks testosterone!) required to lug heavy weapons over extended distances at a reasonable speed (30 metres in 10 seconds) is no joke.

E.g. the fictitious Mauser 960 is 10.5 kg, including vibroblade and compact grenade launcher. That’s 10.5 kg plus body armour plus ammunition/energy packs, water bottle, and toss in a support weapon for a squad.

Sheesh.

[The Wobbly Guy]

Here we are, the Ball! Anastasia experiences firsthand the cut-and-thrust of the socialite world.

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Haynes Palatial Manor, Innerman City, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
21st February, 3061
1800 hrs (1800 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

The Federated Commonwealth, or even just the old Federated Suns part of it, was the largest and most powerful of the Successor States. However, its power was not without limits. Large parts of the realm were poor and underdeveloped - especially the worlds of the Outback, situated between the developed core of the realm and the Periphery.

The worlds of the Trivet belonged to the Outback. Characterised by subsistence level agriculture and low levels of education, the Trivet seemed destined to be forever trapped within the poverty cycle, unable or perhaps unwilling, to elevate its worlds to prosperity.

Even the long duration of the Star League did not seem to have improved matters much. Certainly, Altoona and Delacambre were settled only due to the efforts of the Star League’s terraforming agencies, but many Outback worlds were left in a state of benign neglect by their rulers for centuries.

This led to pockets of advanced civilisation in a sea of widespread poverty, if not outright squalor.

Anastasia ruminated on these thoughts as the hoverlimo travelled to the Haynes palatial manor, passing by fields of quillar, interspersed by small primitive hamlets and villages said to resemble those from the twentieth century. Inman was not a well-developed world.

In addition to the etiquette lessons from Madame Iris, head butler Kevin took it upon himself to give her a short primer on the Trivet worlds - Inman, Altoona, where their family demesne was located, and Delacambre, Finn’s holding. Isolated from the rest of the realm, the Trivet worlds were ultimately ruled by House Haynes from Inman, and each world had its own set of resources and problems. Each of the three worlds depended on the other two, locking them in an interdependent relationship, but also never quite moving past that due to myriad systemic issues.

One of which was the lack of education in the populace. Many learned what they could from their parents, there was no universal primary education, and even Innerman City had only two high schools for promising students. There were a few private institutes, but they catered mainly to the nobles and the wealthy, with some working adults willing to pay the exorbitant fees to get in.

Madame Iris had given her personal opinion when asked about the Trivet. She surmised it may be in the nobles’ own interest to keep the worlds underdeveloped, while retaining access to private schools and better education for their own families. By keeping the population poor and uneducated, it would be easy to influence and divide them to prevent any mass uprising, a sure way for the nobles to maintain their own power and status.

With only a modest application of will, it was actually relatively easy to educate any population over several decades, by building up infrastructure and trained manpower. Pre-spaceflight Terra had plenty of examples to emulate. The fact that it was not done was probably due to the rulers, at least the local ones, unwilling to do so.

The hoverlimo slowed down as it approached the palatial manor. But perhaps the word ‘manor’ was not quite accurate. A castle, harkening back to the mediaeval ages, might be more accurate, though the castle walls were now made of advanced ferrocrete and layered in mech-grade armour instead of mere brick and mortar. Anastasia suppressed the urge to scoff.

Clan Smoke Jaguar, and the clans in general, did not have many such fortifications. The customs of batchalls, bidding, Circle of Equals, and zellbrigen within the Clans made such structures unnecessary. If somebody wanted something, they straight up issued a battle challenge, batchall, to whoever had it.

Both sides then engaged in bidding, to decide the optimal amount of forces on each side, before actually committing them to battle within a strictly defined area, the Circle of Equals. During a battle, instead of focusing their fire on specific targets, clan warriors would challenge opponents and engage in one-on-one duels, a practice known as zellbrigen, to prove their skill.

This form of ritualised combat conserved resources and minimised collateral damage, sparing civilians from the horrors of war. Unfortunately, the Inner Sphere did not subscribe to such notions and engaged in less restricted warfare, or even total war, as in the First and Second Succession Wars, where the Great Houses used weapons of mass destruction almost indiscriminately in their quest for ultimate victory, shattering cities and rendering even entire planets uninhabitable.

A cool breeze blew gently against Anastasia’s face, focusing her on the present, far away from the bloody and desperate battlefields of her past. She took the Baron's hand, mindful of her dress and carefully climbed the steps, then walked into the light of the palatial manor, where servants directed them to the banquet hall.

Despite herself, Anastasia found herself enjoying the fragrant scents and soft music playing in the background. Whenever she took a step on the cold marble floor, the clicking sounds of her shoes resonated through the hall. She walked with the Baron down the corridor leading to the banquet hall.

The hallway was filled with people, but everyone went quiet as they looked at her.

Anastasia knew that their gazes were full of curiosity and ridicule. Although she thought of herself as quite self-assured, she wasn't so dispassionate that she could simply ignore those gazes. But since ‘Avryl’ was not the one who was receiving such gazes, she did not cower under their weight. In her mind, it was not really directed at her anyway.

Before long, the door to the banquet hall opened. The guests lined up for the attendant to announce each guest and position. As expected, everyone in the room looked at her.

She walked slowly, step by step, making a point of looking at the faces of the degenerate Spheroid nobles. She wondered what kind of expression they were making as everyone avoided her gaze.

They stared openly when they thought she was not looking, but looked away when she looked back at them, what kind of behaviour was that?

Cowards.

It amused her at the very least. She looked at the Baron to find him looking at her worriedly.

“Let’s go to the wall over there. Then people will look at you less.”

At the Baron's words, Anastasia nodded her head. He must have felt uncomfortable and embarrassed in such a situation, but the Baron's expression was calm. How could the original Anastasia ever have thought of jumping into the lake and leaving her steadfast father like this?

Anastasia thought it wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be for her to put up with everyone’s stares pressing down on her. It must have been because Baron Kalinski was right next to her.

No one said anything to the Baron, and she did not need to worry about causing any commotion, either. It seemed the Baron knew that too, so he did not leave Anastasia's side even for a moment.

Not having anything in her experience to compare him to, she thought the Baron was a fairly good father. In a way, Anastasia’s actions and behaviour must have put her father at a significant disadvantage at court. However, the Baron only showed his unwavering affection for her. The only downside was that he always seemed to be busy, and was not able to spare much time for her, especially after she recovered.

Anastasia looked up at the dais where Count Haynes, the ruler of the Trivet worlds, and his family would sit. It was still empty. The Count hadn’t arrived yet, and it seemed that his children, including Baron Haynes, had not arrived yet either. Even her fiance with his stupidly punchable face was not there yet.

At that moment, she smiled, promising to herself that she would relieve all of the annoyance she felt while learning dancing and etiquette by stepping on Viscount Finn Rason’s feet.

But she soon found that she was bored, and as she looked around at the Spheroid nobles lavishly clothed, many even more ostentatious than her attire, her anger grew as she recalled the impoverished villages they had passed. She clung to the thought that she shouldn't cause any trouble.

“Baron Kalinski!”

Someone from afar called him. The Baron turned his head.

Who was it? When she looked over, a man with dark hair and overly glamorous clothes walked over. She looked at the Baron in question.

“Yes, he’s your uncle,” the Baron answered firmly.

“Huh?”

She wasn't stupid, but Avryl was terrible at remembering things like family trees. It had gotten her in trouble a few times in the Clan touman when she lost track of who or which bloodhouse was in favour that week, and who their prominent warriors were.

As Anastasia tilted her head, the Baron added an explanation.

“This is Viscount Drake. He is also the maternal uncle of Baron Haynes.”

She nodded her head, startled by a thought that ran through her mind. If so, did that mean that she was related to Baron Haynes, who was supposedly her lover?

She connected the dots. She had heard that her father, Baron Kalinski, was a first cousin to the deceased first Countess, the mother of Baron Haynes, which naturally made them relations to the direct ruling line.

If she understood the traditions and customs of the Inner Sphere, Anastasia thought it was a bit strange that they dated as second cousins. In the clans, the Bloodhouses strived to avoid such interbreeding at all costs, as it often resulted in significant genetic damage and reduced viability of the sibkos formed from such interbreeding. Hence, expanding the gene pool and bidding for additional genetic legacies to maintain the vigour of their lines was a paramount priority for every Bloodhouse.

‘So, shouldn't we say hello to him?’ Viscount Drake was blatantly frowning as she stepped forward with a glance at the Baron. It wasn't a face that looked happy to see her. The only thing Viscount Drake wanted was to talk to Baron Kalinski.

What should I do? As she unwittingly looked back at the Baron again, he also met her eyes. Her mouth opened as she noted the indecisive look on his face. "Please go on."

She was startled by the voice that came out of her unconsciously. She didn't mean to say anything like that, so why was her mouth moving?

Even if I tell you not to go, you will go.

What? What was the thought that just popped into her head? She was bewildered.

The Baron smiled and patted her on the shoulder a few times. “I’ll be back soon, so hang out with your friends.”

She just managed to maintain a neutral expression. What friends?

The Baron then turned to Viscount Drake, the two men engrossed in conversation as they walked away.

Anastasia was too busy grappling with what had just happened. Even though she knew she had entered the body of another person, she had not thought deeply about what that meant. Was the original Anastasia dead? Or was she still in this body? Just now, it had clearly been Anastasia’s thoughts. She tried to focus on the feeling, but her thoughts did not return.

Feeling uneasy, she knew it wouldn't do much for her to keep thinking about it, so she looked around her and glared at the people who were whispering about her.

The Baron would probably not come back. Somehow, her intuition said so.

When the Baron left, she found herself fully exposed to the sneering gazes directed at her. Remembering the etiquette lessons, she forced herself to quietly put her hands together in front of her body, as befit the posture of a noblewoman. But the whispers continued.

“I didn't know she would still show her face!”

“She is not even shameful of what she did!”

The giggles of the others followed the loud voices of the women around her, but Anastasia kept her expression calm despite their blatant ridicule.

Anastasia lifted her gaze and saw men as well as women staring at her furtively. It seemed that it wasn’t just women who were interested in rumours.

“Are you okay now, Lady Kalinska?”

Anastasia turned her head toward the source of the gentle voice, and a woman in an emerald dress approached her. She covered her face with a fan, but even the ignorant Anastasia could tell a smirk lurked beneath it.

Was she supposed to stay silent even when someone addressed her directly? But she intended not to say anything. What was she to do now? Anastasia was in a bit of a dilemma.

“I heard that a lot of things have happened to you recently. The story was everywhere. I heard you were involved in the riot with the crazy mech. Didn't you get into a very serious situation, getting attacked by a mech?”

People's gazes quickly turned strange because the meaning of the phrase ‘serious situation’ was somehow taboo. Anastasia stayed silent and calm, even with those insinuating words.

“My lady, we heard that you almost died. You didn’t lose your voice, did you?”

What should she do? In fact, as Anastasia, the words of these people were not threatening in the least. These women fought with their tongues, but Avryl had fought for her life on the battlefield, against the best warriors the Inner Sphere had to offer. But the phrase ‘words are mightier than the sword’ existed for a reason. The woman's comments were clearly offensive and meant to insult her.

“Do you have nothing to say? I asked because I’m worried about you.”

Anastasia heard the laughter of the people around them once again. Madame Iris had advised her to keep quiet, but she decided that she would look more of a fool if she did not speak anyway.

Anastasia opened her lips.  "The reason I’m not saying anything is…."

All eyes turned to her. Under their curious gazes, Anastasia looked straight at the woman.

“Because I don’t know you are. Who are you to care so much about what happened to me?”

This wasn't a typical noblewoman's elegant and roundabout way of speaking, but rather a direct and sarcastic retort.

Of course, if Anastasia did not know the name of the daughter of a powerful family, she could be criticised for being ignorant, too, but Anastasia had quickly assessed the situation and was confident in her assessment of the situation.

She realised intuitively that someone else had sent this woman to do her dirty work, a pawn controlled by a commander higher-up in the pecking order. If the real culprit behind this rudeness was a woman from a more prestigious, higher ranked family, it would be better to send a hired pawn to do it for her instead of getting her own hands dirty.

As evidence, she observed that the woman's just-ever-so-slightly scruffy dress was a stark contrast to the lavish, modern look of Anastasia’s dress, as well as other noblewomen. She was obviously not very high ranking, and simply a pawn obeying orders from a higher ranked aristocrat.

Upon hearing Anastasia's words, the woman's face turned red at once. If the woman asked, ‘How do you not know me?’, she would certainly look petulant.

“I used to exchange greetings with my lady, but I think my lady doesn't have a good enough memory to remember me,” she said.

“I think so.” As she calmly accepted the woman's sarcastic remarks, a roar of laughter flowed out from among the people.

To readily admit her memory for names was poor, Anastasia made it more difficult for the other woman to continue harping on that point, since it would seem like a personal attack.

She looked around, looking for the ‘commander’ who made this woman do this. Among the eyes of the spectators, Anastasia met the curious gaze of a woman with platinum blonde hair, hiding the rest of her face behind a fan. Trusting her intuition, Anastasia knew she had identified the ringleader. She looked straight at the woman. Their eyes met, and Anastasia was about to make a move, but…

“My lady! I am the one in front of you right now! Is the lady ignoring my concern?"

Anastasia turned her gaze back at the woman confronting her.

It seemed like the woman was angry because Anastasia ignored her. However, she realised it was because her attention turned to the blonde-haired lady, and the lower ranked noble was desperate to divert Anastasia's attention back to herself.

A thought came to Anastasia, and she wondered idly if she could even ask about it. She deliberated for a second, and decided to do so anyway, damn the possible consequences.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Are you curious about my name?”

Anastasia shook her head.

“Even though it was a public rumour that I was in the midst of the riot, how did you know I was attacked by a mech?”

That was not entirely correct, since she was probably the aggressor, but Anastasia decided to roll with it. Besides, she had received communications through Baron Kalinski that the whole affair was to be hushed up, and the wayward, barely still alive pilot was to receive lifelong imprisonment.

The protestors were too poor to own multipurpose handphones, or too busy fleeing for their lives to record anything, and vehicle dashboard cameras were virtually unknown on the impoverished world. The footage from a few street cameras were quickly gathered and sealed in some obscure archives. So other than the police, and her own servants, and the militia who responded, nobody should know exactly what happened.

And for some reason, nobody wanted to find out more about how she was able to disable the mech. Anastasia suspected her father's efforts behind this, and maybe even the Count's influence to bury the whole matter as deeply and quickly as he could.

“What?” The woman was taken aback by the unexpected question. She paused, then answered, “It’s the militia.”

“Oh? The militia?” Now Anastasia felt a bit flustered and on the defensive. “Did the militia tell you?”

When Anastasia asked the question again to confirm, the woman seemed uncomfortable. She heard it from the militia? Did that make any sense?

“As it concerned defence and security, the militia would be instructed to keep the details secret, isn't that the case?”

For all her ignorance, Anastasia knew that no agency would ever disclose details of a case while it was still under investigation. Even more so when it involved mechs, even workmechs. This was simply common sense.

Her line of questioning sparked murmurs from the crowd gathered around her.

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

“It is still being investigated, so how did she find out? Who leaked the info?”

It seemed that Anastasia's doubts were not unfounded. Anastasia let out a dry laugh at this absurdity. “So the militia has no sense of information security?”

The phrase 'information security' was definitely not a phrase used by noblewomen, unless they were being groomed to lead their household. Although Anastasia's tone was harsh, people murmured that Anastasia was rightfully concerned about the issues that she pointed out to the woman. Leaking information on an ongoing investigation was a serious matter.

Anastasia knew that discipline for militia on backwater worlds was poor, and could not be compared to frontline units, but this was simply unacceptable.

Had this happened within her own Binary, she would have sent them for intense physical training, or sparring sessions with Elementals, guaranteed to shake them up.

Pathetic! Anastasia tsked in disapproval.

“Oh!” The young woman, who had suddenly inadvertently insulted the militia, was embarrassed. She now looked a little pitiful, but Anastasia had no intention of giving up the opportunity to ridicule the Spheroid soldiers.

Sure, they had not done anything personally to her or the Smoke Jaguars, but right now, she found that she did not care. Like the namesake of her clan, the Smoke Jaguar, she would pounce and press home the attack.

“So disappointing, the Trivet militia,” she said.

She tsked again and looked towards the men. Some well-built men who looked like members of the militia avoided her gaze. As Anastasia turned her gaze at the blonde woman again, the woman's face had turned pale.

It seemed that she was also the one who leaked the information from the militia. What connections does she have?

Viscount Rason should be here to see this, and ridiculed for the poor discipline of the soldiers under his command. What kind of expression would his smug face make when he heard these words?

Where was that man? Anastasia frowned when she glanced around for her fiance, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Isn’t the lady's fiance an officer in the militia? Your fiance’s honour....”

“You insulted his honour. Not me.”

Anastasia decided that she was going to speak her mind now. Her manner of speech  was still direct, but she softened her tone at the end, so it seemed congruent with Anastasia's gentle voice. When she said that, the woman backed away with a look of resentment.

I… I won?

When she looked at the faces around her, she seemed to have won, even though she didn’t mean to at the beginning. Anastasia didn't know the lady’s name, so she had just thrown that fact out there, and she ended up mocking the militia because she had been curious about the source of information.

Then the trumpet sounded, and everyone looked at the entrance to the banquet hall. It meant that the Count and his family were about to enter.

Anastasia did not care much for the degenerate, puffed-up nobles of the Inner Sphere, although she was now one of them, but she still observed with interest as the Count and his family walked in.

The Count was an old, slightly overweight man with a mild appearance even from a distance, but she couldn't get close to see what his face looked like. Anastasia thought appraisingly that the Count was a bit slovenly from his gait alone. Compared to the strong, charismatic warriors who led Clan Smoke Jaguar, he was not impressive at all.

He was followed by the Countess, his heir Baron Renard Haynes, and another young man who bore a resemblance to the Countess, probably his second son, whose name escaped her although Kevin had briefed her before.

She noticed Finn, who was following the count’s family. She could see him scanning the banquet hall, so she looked away to avoid his gaze. For some reason, she did not feel well whenever she looked at Baron Haynes.

Perhaps that was Anastasia’s influence?

The Count sat on a chair on the podium and started greeting the nobles who came up to him, obviously the usual hobnobbing for attention.

Anastasia somehow found herself drained, and the wave of queasiness that engulfed her when she saw Baron Haynes. She felt it would be better to avoid people right now and come back later. She avoided people's gazes and cautiously headed to the second floor of the banquet hall.

Due to the appearance of the Count, there was no one on the second floor. She walked, letting her footsteps lead her. From what the butler and Madame Iris had told her, there should be rest rooms available for those nobles who did not feel well or required some privacy, or for more sensitive conversations.

Without thinking too much, Anastasia opened the most ornate door at the end of the hallway before entering. She sighed and sat down on a sofa in the room. She looked around, wondering if she could take off her high-heeled shoes, then decided that it was fine for her to do so when everybody else was in the banquet hall and unlikely to come up here. She would have chosen a pair of comfortable and sturdy combat boots over these shoes, which were nothing more than uncomfortable shackles to her.

As her feet relaxed, she sighed and rested her head on the sofa, taking care not to mess up her hair. She wondered what the hell she was doing. In the end, all she had to do was wear aristocratic clothes and pretend to be Inner Sphere nobility to adapt as Anastasia.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice that someone had opened the door, then closed it silently. She heard footsteps approaching her, and it was only then that she turned her head.

A man smiled at her with his blonde hair tossed stylishly. Standing in front of the door was Renard Haynes. “Hey, Ana. Were you waiting for me?”
-----------------------------

Again, in the story the characters have some they-do-not-know-what-they-do-not-know stuff, but our viewpoint reveals additional missing pieces.

The thing about the abysmal literacy rates in the Outback as written in the various sourcebooks just never really made sense. Throughout history, various institutions have sought to expand their reach through indoctrination via education and literacy - the Church (Catholic, Anglican, whatever) comes to mind readily. Entrepreneurs and rich businessmen engaging in philanthropy, various conglomerates trying to develop talent. Textbooks are easy to print and distribute, teaching the basics at the primary level is generally not that difficult.

The history of education in my country, especially in the British colonial period, was typified by such private sector initiatives, to the point where an association of rich businessmen were even able to set up a university! It was only after independence that the government stepped in to impose uniform standards and get everybody in line, but the fact remains that schools and somewhat decent literacy rates could be achieved without the government.

For the Outback to have only one high school per city beggars belief. So what’s really going on?

My in-universe explanation is the one postulated by Madame Iris, the nobles are the ones actively disrupting things, demanding adherence to stupid regulations and rules that don’t make sense (e.g. the textbook used must be the 4th edition of XYZ. Oh, it’s out of print? Too bad.) just to prevent schools, especially beyond the middle school level, from popping up. For exactly the reasons she suggested. And from then on it was just bureaucratic inertia and things that were abided by even when most people had forgotten the reasons behind it, and nobody had the energy to overcome the inertia (things had always been done this way!) and change matters.

Even Hanse Davion, as smart as he is, didn’t realise it wasn’t the lack of educators per se, but the (unwitting?) sabotage by local rulers and bureaucracy. So the Outback remains mired in poverty and illiteracy.

[Starfox5]

Hm. What about MechWarriors? Are they nobility by default, as it was sometimes stated in the early books?

[The Wobbly Guy]

Hm. What about MechWarriors? Are they nobility by default, as it was sometimes stated in the early books?

Yup, especially in the Outback. Usually they start off in a household that are at least landholding knights, but sometimes wealthy commoners can get a foot in the door if they are so inclined... but seriously, if you're already rich, why would you want to strap yourself to a walking nuclear reactor?

Unless the aim is to enter the aristocracy and rise higher in the nobility, of course. Nobility at the higher ranks do have advantages over merely wealthy commoners.

Sometimes, guys who enlist in the armed forces get screened and picked up to be mechwarriors, like Galen Cox and Renny Sanderlin, but they often have to be exceptional talents.

Note that while most mechwarriors are nobles, the reverse is not true - not all nobles are mechwarriors, or even warriors of any stripe. Yeah sure, they might have some military forces, but they're pretty much token represents.

One of the later chapters will show the Kalinski garrison on Altoona, and boy is Anastasia going to be pissed when she gets there!

[The Wobbly Guy]

The ball/banquet segment continues.
--------------------------
Haynes Palatial Manor, Innerman City, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
21st February, 3061
1930 hrs (1930 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Stravag. She twisted her body around on the sofa and lifted her head to look at Renard. Renard’s smile widened as he stood in front of the sofa where she was sitting.

He was tall and handsome with his hair neatly brushed over to the side. Anastasia felt the unpleasant feeling come back despite his clearly pleasant face, as if her chest was being squeezed. It was not that he had a scary visage, but her heart was somehow racing.

“What are you doing here?”

“……”

“Ana, are you still angry?”

“……”

Are you angry? Was it normal to simply say that to a woman who jumped into a lake, begging him for his love?

“Ana, you need to be careful. There’ll be trouble if you keep coming to the reserved lounge.”

No wonder this room was at the very end of the hall. It was reserved for the Count’s family to use.

But why is he here? Anastasia observed the man in front of her warily.

“What would you do if the Countess or Raymond came in? You’re lucky I came in first.”

He stood in front of her, his posture aggressive and domineering. Anastasia chose to keep silent because she was not sure how she should react in this situation and still thinking of what to do.

“Can’t you say something?” he asked her, but it sounded like he was ordering her about.

When Anastasia still didn't answer, Renard sat down next to her. He brought up his hand and stroked her chin, then touched her lips with his thumb before his hand dropped down below her shoulder.

She stood still to see what he was doing and grimaced at the subtle gesture of his. She tried to slap his hand away, but he grabbed her wrist firmly.

“It’s no fun if you keep resisting.”

“What…!”

As Anastasia was about to get up, Renard pushed her down with a strong grip and forced onto the couch. His heavy body threatened to crush her.

"I missed you, Ana. I really, really missed you…"

Twisting her body, she tried to escape, but Renard reached out with one hand to press both her arms down above her head with tremendous force. In an instant, his mouth was on hers, her lips were forced open and his tongue pushed in. At the same time, his other hand fondled her chest.

Savrashi! Anastasia cursed inwardly. He asked her if she was angry but then suddenly started doing this. Is this guy crazy?

“That mech that went nuts didn’t get you, did it? You are still here, still my Ana.”

“Let go of me……!”

This piece of surat shit! Anastasia tried to push him away, but she was too weak, despite having improved her fitness somewhat since awakening in this body. But the dance lessons and intensive etiquette lessons had prevented her from doing her physical exercises for the past two weeks, so she had fallen behind again.

Even in this degrading situation, Anastasia felt resentful, but her hard-won discipline was keeping her calm while her mind was already trying to think of a way to extricate herself.

He tried to kiss her again, but when she shook her head to resist him, the Baron clicked his tongue and lifted his face, looking down at Anastasia angrily. Seeing his furious expression, he looked like a complete madman.

“I told you to stop being angry.”

Angry……?

“I know you love me. So now you have to let me love you.”

This is love? She scoffed inwardly.

"You were really impressive, Ana, to jump into the lake with that weak body to prove your love for me."

Anastasia frowned. From what she heard, Anastasia had jumped into the manor lake while begging this piece of shit for his love. However, was it to prove her love? Was there something more? She tried to retrace the memory.

“Ahhhh…”

Anastasia moaned and bit her lips as her head suddenly throbbed and ached. Renard’s voice suddenly sounded distant, even though he was next to her and his mouth did not move… the voice was clearly in her head.

A scene began to appear in her mind that Avryl had never seen before.

Earnestness. With a desperate, imploring expression on her face, the original Anastasia was looking at Renard.

Although their relationship was known publicly, Anastasia wanted it to be officially recognized that they were lovers. When that happened, she would be able to suppress all the other bitches, the socialite girls, especially Lady Venice, who were jealous of her beauty and her position. But Renard didn't want that.

That caused them to fight, and it wasn't long before rumours spread in social circles that the Baron had dumped Anastasia. And now, Renard was humiliating her in front of other people.

“I wish you wouldn’t bother me anymore.”

At those words, the people around Renard giggled and laughed.

With an intense expression on her face, she hoped that he would smile at her, formally telling her in front of everybody that she was his lover, and soon-to-be fiancee and wife.

“Don’t you have any pride? Why are you so persistent?”

Despite the words that broke her heart, Anastasia struggled to maintain her composure.

“Now, stop bothering me and get lost!”

Hearing his words, Anastasia smiled brightly at him in happiness. Her beloved, Baron Renard Haynes, had given her the signal.

Not long after they quarrelled, Renard and Anastasia met in secret. The Baron confessed his love for her had not changed and promised her the position as his Countess once he had ascended to the position of Count. However, he had a condition for Anastasia.

“Show me your love by giving me your life, Ana. You know, we've been lonely for too long, so we don't believe in love. So, prove your love; prove that I can trust you. Show me that you deserve to be my lifelong companion, to be the Countess of Inman.”

Anastasia told him she would do anything she could to show her faith.

“Ana, listen carefully. I will treat you coldly, but it's only because my parents don't like you, so I am trying to protect you,” Renard said.

The Count, for some reason, looked at her with displeasure, and she didn't know what kind of character the Countess was, but she believed Renard if he said she wasn’t happy with Anastasia.

“I also need a justification to accept your love.”

“What should I do?”

“When I tell you to ‘get lost’ at the banquet, prove your love for me.”

Anastasia nodded her head happily.

I'd be happy to do that. Renard, I'll do it again and again if you want. If I could be by your side, if we could love each other without any hindrance, if we could never be lonely anymore.

That was why Anastasia smiled broadly at the Baron's insult. Then, without hesitation, she plunged into the manor lake. To prove her love to the Baron, she wanted to show that she would risk her life. And the last thing she saw as she was drowning was…

“As freebirths go, you’re as bad as Amaris!”

“Huh?”

Seeing the real Anastasia's memories, Anastasia, no, Avryl was outraged. So, without hesitation, she kicked the Baron right between his legs. She supposed she could have used his momentary confusion over the comparison to Amaris to get him into some form of shoulder lock, but a kick at the crotch was far more satisfying.

Renard’s desperate screams of agony echoed through the lounge. His hand fell from where it had been stroking her body to protect his crotch area, and the Baron scrambled across the common room away from her, screaming in pain.

The last thing Anastasia had seen as she sank into the water of the manor lake was Renard, pointing his finger at Anastasia as she was dying and bursting into laughter at her foolishness.

Anastasia realised that the man she loved so much, that she was willing to die for him, had played her so completely that she did die for him.

 

Finn did not feel well that day when he met the second person on his most-hated list.

Captain Larouche, who he hated the most, would not be attending per se because he claimed to be in charge of the manor’s security during this banquet and went to the guard area. That was good. However, because of the Count’s invitation, he was forced to face that other piece of shit, Baron Renard Haynes.

A few hours before the banquet, the Count had summoned Finn. Baron Renard and Raymond were seated in the drawing room.

When he met the Baron, Renard’s face immediately lit up with a smirk.

“It’s been a while, Viscount.”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied automatically.

He didn't know what that smile meant. After all, everyone already knew that Finn’s fiancee was Anastasia, and that the Baron was her ex-lover.

He was not surprised that the Baron was making fun of the situation. There was no way that filthy bastard would let that pass.

He heard that the Countess had sent a personal invitation to Anastasia Kalinska even though she was ill, but Finn didn’t believe it. It was evident that the Baron was behind it. He knew the man’s sick personality.

The Baron himself did not like Finn or his father the late Viscount, as they had not liked him from the beginning, so the feelings were mutual. Finn also disliked the vicious and promiscuous Baron.

The Baron did not say anything about Finn and Anastasia's engagement in front of him. That was wise. If he insulted him by talking about his fiancee, the Count next to him wouldn't let him get away with it.

The actions of the Baron, this time, directly touched Finn's nerves. He was mocking not only Anastasia but also Finn.

The Count looked at his son and Finn alternately.

It was clear he had summoned him because he wanted to check to see if Finn harboured any resentment towards Renard because of the engagement he was forced into.

“It’s been a while, Viscount.” Raymond greeted him by asking for a handshake. Black spectacles slid down his nose. Finn smiled bitterly inwardly, he was getting tired of watching that ridiculous façade.

“Your eyes seem to have gotten worse.”

“I read a lot of books. Maybe too many.”

Finn deliberately squeezed Raymond’s gloved hand hard, but Raymond just smiled at him. With the greetings over, the Count finally spoke.

“Viscount Rason.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The face of the Count, who had been wearing a hard mask, softened at once. The old Count smiled.

“Boy, you don’t have to be so uptight.”

Despite their differences, the late Viscount Rason and Count Haynes had been close friends, and the Count favoured young Finn. The Count smiled as if looking at his son, but Finn’s expression remained the same. No matter their relationship, the Count was the Count, his liege lord.

“I may have made a mistake, Finn. You're getting into an engagement that's embarrassing for you.”

“It’s not like that. I think there was a reason.”

He wished there was a reason. If he put himself in such a horrible situation, there had to be a good reason. He had to believe there was a good reason. Otherwise, he would do whatever he could to cancel it.

“I want to believe that you will not have an uncomfortable relationship with Renard, right?"

Finn smiled at him.

“Matters of the past belong to the past. This should not affect my relationship with Baron Haynes.”

The Count chuckled at his answer. The Baron also looked across at him and smiled.

“That is fortunate, Viscount Rason. I was afraid of losing your support.”

Losing? How so? From the beginning, he and the Rason family were never on the Baron's side. He laughed bitterly at the Count’s decision of openly giving power to the Baron and providing political backing.

And the undercurrents of the recent takeover by Archon Katrina Steiner was still shaking itself out throughout the entire Federated Commonwealth. Nobody was yet sure who stood where on the issue. Finn suspected it would have repercussions on the succession issue on Inman.

More importantly, Victor Steiner-Davion was coming home, he was sure of it. If the Smoke Jaguars had lost, according to news from Diamond Shark merchants, there could be no other outcome. And if they had pledged their fealty to him, what would happen if he demands his throne back from his sister?

He looked at Renard. The young man with his hair neatly combed over had a handsome appearance, looked as if he belonged in a painting. But Finn always had his doubts. Why is he the heir?

Count Haynes was not a fool. Then, why did he appoint Renard as heir? Yes, nobles throughout the Inner Sphere practised primogeniture, but it was not absolute, with significant allowance to select other scions as heirs, particularly if the eldest was unworthy.

So Count Haynes could decide his successor. Was it because of his love for the first Countess who gave birth to Renard? Count Haynes had appointed Renard as his heir when he was only ten years old, and from that moment, Renard had been steadily gathering supporters and consolidating political power, even if he sometimes made mistakes, such as the recent corruption scandal.

Finn looked at Raymond, the second son. Raymond was smiling somewhat vapidly. The Count may have thought that he was a little lacking and that a meek, docile Raymond could not lead the Trivet. In Finn’s estimation, that meant the Count actually didn’t have good enough judgement to actually know Raymond’s capabilities.

Finn looked at the Haynes in front of him. They looked alike, but at the same time they didn't look alike.

When the time came, everyone got up from their seats. Following the Haynes family to the banquet hall, Finn surreptitiously glanced around, looking for his fiance as they would have to dance today in this troublesome place in front of many people. It had been arranged through a series of grudging text messages on their mobile phones, in order to keep up appearances.

He quickly found her.

His fiancee had stunning looks; it would make his brain hurt to find the right words to compliment her. She was very beautiful, and it was only natural that the accessories on her made her even more beautiful. This was an objective evaluation, he was not being biased.

The Count’s family was at the upper level on a dais. Due to its high location, Finn could look down at the entire hall, and he realised that people had gathered around Anastasia. It couldn’t mean anything good. He had heard she wasn't feeling well, so she was probably having a hard time.

Then Anastasia was looking at him. Was she looking at him because he was her fiancé? But it was an illusion, and her gaze shifted to the Count. It looked evaluative, and he was momentarily reminded of the way a predator stalked its prey.

She didn’t seem interested in what was going on though. She looked around, turned her head, and then headed elsewhere.

What was she doing? As Finn watched her with a frown on his face, she went up to the second floor.

Finn looked back at her and turned his gaze to where she was standing.

People were gossiping about her. All the people who did not respect Anastasia turned their attention to Finn to look at him, seemingly after whatever was said.

Finn kept a blank expression, opposite of what they expected. He gave a warning glare to those who stared at him.

“I’m thirsty. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Renard, who had been standing for a while, went down to the banquet hall. He received greetings from those who approached him and mingled with the group. Then Baron Haynes quietly slipped away and disappeared to the second floor. Was he going to meet Anastasia? Was it a sign that she was looking for Renard and that she wanted to meet him? Damn it! Were they really going to play around like this?

Finn cursed inside. He didn't know when he would get married, but it would be very far in the future, and he would divorce her as soon as possible so that she would remain on the list of nobles involved in scandals. It would be disgraceful, but it would be more honourable than continuing to watch this scene.

His anger rose. Thinking about it, Anastasia was utterly reprehensible. She promised to dance with him today too, but she also arranged for a secret meeting right in front of him?

Then he made eye contact with Raymond. His smiling face said he knew everything.

His mind being read by Raymond, of course, made him feel shitty. He thought about what to do. Then, without realising it, he found himself heading to the second floor.

Was it sleazy to investigate his fiancee’s possible infidelity? Finn swore that if he ever got to date another woman, she had to be faithful to him. He didn’t want to experience such a lousy feeling ever again.

As the banquet had not yet begun, there was no one in the hallway leading to the break rooms.

He searched for Anastasia and Renard, but Anastasia didn't seem to be on the second floor. Then, his gaze reached the far end of the room. The lounge reserved for the Count and his close family. Finn frowned and headed towards it.

As he drew closer, Finn sensed there were people inside.

The Count and most of his family were still in the banquet hall, so it had to be Renard. At the same time, a woman's voice was clearly heard.

It was obvious whose voice it was. Finn forced himself to calm the fury he felt at the undoubtable adultery. Well, he wasn’t a man if he was going to get cuckolded like this!

Then the door opened.

What? A roar of pain leaked through the door. Finn frowned and walked over to it.

“...I will kill you! How dare you do this to me?”

Finn thought he must have heard wrong. Renard was clearly screaming in pain and anger. Anastasia's voice followed.

“If you want to kill me, you can try. But I don’t think you can.”

“Ugh, ahhh!”

“You should tell your father the Count that you acted like a total scumbag and then got kicked in your dick! I’m glad to have done that.”

Her words were clear and harsh, but they contained all the keywords that Finn needed to understand the situation.

As Anastasia came out of the room, their eyes met, and she quickly looked away, with a look of somebody who had committed a crime and had been caught red-handed.
------------------------
If the text feels a bit off, that's because I was lazy and just adapted from a translated version of the original web novel.

After about chapter 20 the translations stop, so I'll be adapting it off the manhwa, and changing some scenes to suit the setting, e.g. the battle on the FL's family holdings / Altoona.

BTW, the story of the original FL in the web novel was quite tragic.

[The Wobbly Guy]

Another of the common tropes in this genre - the dance!
------------------------------
Haynes Palatial Manor, Innerman City, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
21st February, 3061
2000 hrs (2000 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

“My luck just sucks.”

Anastasia crossed her arms and sighed, then reached out her hand to grab his arm. Behind the door, there were still groans and a voice cursing vehemently.

Finn let himself be dragged along without resisting.

“What did you do?”

He thought he knew what happened, but Finn asked to confirm, and also out of courtesy.

“I kicked his fre… frickking… dick.”

Finn did not expect such a strong curse out of her elegantly shaped mouth. When her words registered with his brain, he felt like cursing himself at the severity of the situation.

Attacking a member of the Count’s family, especially the heir! She was grimacing. Even she seemed to understand what she had just done, the possible consequences.

“I know you’re quite mad, but you’ve taken it up a notch!” He couldn’t help but be honest with his opinion.

Anastasia crossed her arms as if she didn’t care. “If you stay here right now, it won’t do any of us any good. It’s better to just go quietly. Yes, I kicked that ******’s dick. He’s probably still on the floor.”

Again, she admitted she kicked Renard’s penis. Finn imagined his condition. His pain was entirely understandable as a man, but Finn couldn’t muster up any sympathy.

But still…

“Why did you do that?” He walked with her down the hallway.

“If I tell you, will you believe me?”

“What?”

Finn couldn’t answer the question right away. There wasn’t any real relationship between them. They don’t even trust each other yet. He considered for a moment if Anastasia would lie to him, take advantage in some way.

He sighed. “Tell me. I will try.”

Anastasia looked at him with suspicion and seemed to be a little worried. Then she said quietly. “Say, you are dating a girl. Then she asked you to prove that you loved her. What would you do?”

“Huh?”

“I’m talking about jumping into the manor lake. I did it because Renard told me to do it.”

“What are you saying?”

“The word love was a signal, and I was duped into one of his cruel jokes. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was him pointing at me and laughing as I drowned.”

“That is……”

Is she telling me to believe that? Finn thought.

Anastasia seemed to have misunderstood his words. “Yeah, that was stupid. To fall for that kind of sweet talk and trust that bastard.”

Her tone was entirely serious. As if she was blaming herself. Despite the crudeness of her speech, there was an underlying sincerity and ring of truth that convinced Finn that she wasn’t lying to him.

Meanwhile, they had nearly reached the banquet hall again.

If what she said was true, he understood what was going on and why Anastasia found words to be insufficient. For Anastasia, kicking Renard in his genitals many more times would still not be enough.

“Kicking him in the balls though… you’re not worried about the consequences?”

She shrugged. “I did it on the spur of the moment. I did not think that far ahead.”

He grinned. She was certainly turning out surprise after surprise. And to retaliate in this manner against Renard, who had been doing mostly as he wished throughout his life, rarely suffering any consequences.

It was, Finn felt, just desserts for the spoiled Baron.

Besides, the sense of irritation that clouded his mood all day had turned into mild amusement.

A short bark of laughter escaped him. “Hah! But to kick him there…”

“But that is the best place to kick. Where else?”

He tried to hold back his laughter, but it was tough. Where did Anastasia get the idea in the first place?

He couldn’t laugh out loud because of the current situation and its location, so he just kept his voice low and chuckled instead. It was a pity that he couldn’t see Renard on the floor. He regretted not taking a peek inside the lounge.

“So, any more residual feelings for Renard?”

“If I had, I wouldn’t have kicked him there.”

At that, Finn couldn’t endure it any longer and burst out laughing. Anastasia looked at him as if he was going crazy.

Finn thought about how the Baron would react. Injuring any member of the aristocracy, much less the ruling Count’s family, was certainly a crime. However, the circumstances were not so simple, especially for Anastasia’s situation. If the heir to the most powerful position in the Trivet punished a woman for kicking him in his crotch, he would always be a laughing stock. In his estimation, Renard was not likely to take issue with this matter.

No matter how foolish Renard may be, he must have sufficient wits about him not to take revenge on the Kalinskis, who number amongst his supporters, and risk driving them away. Finn decided he had to trust Renard and his advisors to do the smart thing.

He looked at Anastasia. He was beginning to see how unique she was. When she took down the Harvester, he had written it off mentally as pure luck, a minor miracle from somebody too stupid to know otherwise. But now he slowly admitted she actually might know what she was doing.

After laughing for a while, he blurted without thinking, “If anything happens, I will take care of it.”

“Huh?”

It was gratifying to think of Renard screaming with his ****** kicked, and Finn decided to be generous, reasoning that her act of vengeance was warranted. Anastasia blinked as if she had heard something unexpected.

“But if you are so rude in public, you will be punished for insulting the Count by extension. Be careful from now on.”

“Okay, I’ll be more careful in the future.”

She nodded her head politely again.

Finn felt he had misjudged her. She didn’t hesitate to admit her mistakes even though she seemed stubborn. One could not judge by looking at the appearance, and who would have imagined foul cursing words such as “bastard” and ‘dick’ come out of such a pretty face. He smiled again at the thought.

“Stop smiling like that, you look creepy. Why don’t we go and dance?”

“What?”

Anastasia grabbed his arm again and led him. She wasn’t strong, but her two arms clasped Finn’s arms tightly.

“About the dance. I was waiting for you so we can dance. It’s expected of us, isn’t it?”

For Anastasia, there was nothing to do anyway, and the goal was to achieve her duty of dancing quickly, but Finn assumed that was just a cute teasing gesture from his fiancée.

“This is a strange dance request."

Usually it was the man who invited the woman, but he was slowly coming to accept Anastasia’s direct manner. Finn held her hand and led her to the dance area.

When Anastasia and Finn appeared together, all eyes of the people in the banquet hall were focused on them.

And, where was Baron Renard Haynes? Many people looked for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. If Renard, Anastasia, and Finn were together, it would have been a spectacle worth seeing, and could probably generate enough scandal rumours to keep the gossip mills running for ages.

Finn and Anastasia certainly appeared to be affectionate with each other, not just from the usual arranged betrothal. Anastasia’s expression was stiff, but she held Finn’s arm, and he also followed her steps closely, showing his consideration for her well-being.

“It seems like he still cares about her as his fiancée.”

“Yeah, surprising, isn’t it?”

It was the first time Viscount Rason had behaved this way in public, so everyone noticed.

Unlike his predecessors, Finnickerhet Ian Rason rarely appeared in social circles.

Even as a boy, he spent most of his childhood on Delacambre, learning as a mechwarrior apprentice. Once he was old enough, he was sent to the Kilbourne Academy to complete his mechwarrior training and learn the art of command. When he graduated summa ****** laude and got a posting as a Leftenant with the prestigious First Davion Guards, it was a major source of pride for the entire Trivet.

As a young officer, Finn participated in Operation Bulldog, the massive attack to drive the Smoke Jaguars out of the Inner Sphere. His courage and skill were amply demonstrated in the battles with the clan invaders. He was even awarded the Silver Sunburst, a decoration reserved for particularly valorous acts in battle.

When the previous Viscount Rason died, Finn was honourably discharged from the AFFC and returned to the Trivet to take up his duties as a noble. Nobody doubted his abilities, and nepotism was never a factor. Everybody knew he earned and deserved his commission and rank.

As a scion of one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the Trivet, he was not just an uncouth soldier. Whenever Finn appeared at parties, there were many admirers from the opposite sex, so only the most beautiful young lady would be by his side, although nothing ever came of such dalliances. Finnickerhet Ian Rason was a trophy for any aristocratic young lady who wanted to show off her beauty. Finn was tall, leanly muscled and perfectly proportioned, a handsome man who exuded masculine confidence and strength.

Finn wasn’t particularly materially ambitious or traditionalist, but he possessed a sharp chilliness. He spoke little in public, but his sarcastic tone from time to time when he opened his mouth was able to verbally skewer most of those who offended him.

After inheriting his title, Viscount Finn spent more time in the capital. Furthermore, with the ironclad engagement to his fiancée, who was not well-received in public, people thought Finn would keep his distance from Anastasia, since she had committed an unspeakable and scandalous  act.

In addition, her terrible personality was well-known. The only thing she had was her beauty, but that was all. She knew it too so she wielded her beauty like a weapon. Anastasia was willful, temperamental, and vicious, and it was natural that she would be ostracised by other nobles. Therefore, she should be scorned by Finn as well.

But at the moment, anybody looking at those two would not have thought the same. It was a picture of a swooning lady in the arms of her protective fiancé. Finn even looked back at her from time to time. If anyone looked closely, it looked like her hand was held from Finn’s side.

As the people’s gazes lingered and people murmured, the eyes of the Count, who had been talking with the other high ranking nobles, stayed on them. Finn and Anastasia had gone out on the dance floor to the music and started dancing slowly.

It was rare for Finn to dance. He moved his feet a little awkwardly, but her dress was waving, painting a picturesque scene. Anastasia, who was facing Finn, smiled brightly.

One white hand was on Finn’s waist, and the other was holding his hand tightly. It was more beautiful than anything else when she, who always frowned, now smiled brightly.

Finn, who was handsomely dressed in the green dress uniform coat of the AFFC, stared at Anastasia Kalinska’s face. It was as if they were really in love, so passionately focused on each other.

By holding hands and dancing together, it seemed to solidify their engagement to the world. Some of Finn’s retainers and peers sympathised with Finn for his bad luck for getting engaged to such a shrew, and the ladies who had hoped to snag him were jealous and caustic towards Anastasia, saying Finn was too good for her.

Regardless, they were a lovely couple to the extent that magic was created where the lights shone brightly only upon them.

Of course, the fantastic and perfect image the people saw was only an illusion.

Anastasia stepped out her heeled foot just slightly faster than the beat, and Finn quickly shifted his foot to avoid it. At her expression of disappointment, a corner of Finn’s mouth twitched upwards.

Anastasia was dancing as she had been taught by Madame Iris, except for her feet which were not quite in sync to the music beat. It wasn’t noticeable because her shoes were only slightly exposed, but her steps were sometimes fast and sometimes slow. The reason, of course, wasn’t that she didn’t know the beat. The goal was something else.

“You must be planning to break my feet for sure.”

“No, not really.”

He had wondered why she had so readily extended the dance request. Now he knew. He dodged her foot once more. A clear sound of her heel resounded. At that, Anastasia’s skirt swayed gracefully.

“Mind explaining why you are doing this?”

Even after breaking the friendly atmosphere at best, Anastasia did not answer. As the music crescendoed for several beats, she swiftly delivered her blow with a thump. Finn gracefully avoided it.

“You’re aiming for my feet.”

“Right. I don’t like you very much.”

Even if she didn’t outright say that she didn’t like him, seeing this behaviour still made him guess at her true intentions. Still, he had to say he was glad she aimed at his feet, and not between his legs.

When Anastasia’s strategy did not work, she grumbled, “Is it that hard to let your foot be stepped on for once? Stop being so petty.”

“Why do I even have to let myself be stepped on? You’re the one being petty.”

“Because I want to step on you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to step on you at least once.”

It was childish and it was indeed petty. But Anastasia really wanted to step hard on his foot. Previously, when Avryl saw Finn for the first time after waking up as Anastasia, she wanted to shove her fist into his face. And he had the gall to offer her hegira on Yamarovka! As if she couldn’t extricate her Binary without his offer to withdraw honourably.

Now, she didn’t have the strength to throw a punch in his face, and she wasn’t crazy enough to kick him like she did the Crown Prince. For just this one dance, she had to learn annoying etiquette and steps for almost two weeks, so she wanted to make her wish come true by stepping on his feet. At least once!

“You’re really one of a kind.”

She snarked back, “Right, I’m not your usual lady.”

She, a ristar and trueborn mechwarrior of the Clans, was inside a noblewoman’s body, so how could it be normal? It was a miracle that she managed to learn to dance formally at all.

“Oh.” Anastasia grimaced, making an annoying sound with her disappointment. Again, Finn had avoided her foot. Just barely.

When Finn saw that expression, it began to feel fun to him. He was able to avoid it easily from the beginning, so he wasn’t too offended.

“Did I do something wrong to my lady?”

“What?”

It was simple curiosity on his part, and not an apology for whatever wrongs he might have committed against her, or to soften the atmosphere.

“Did I do something wrong….”

The problem was that he was a Spheroid mechwarrior. And he was arrogant. But arrogance was a common trait amongst mechwarriors, even more so in the clans. Avryl would be lying if she said she did not have this character flaw herself.

Anastasia bit her mouth. She disliked him based on her past interactions with him, but would the original Anastasia have liked Viscount Rason?

When the past memories of Anastasia were triggered, she could feel vaguely the real Anastasia’s intense emotions towards Renard. So even if she were engaged to Finn, she probably wouldn’t be any different.

Either way, this guy was pathetic. And stupid. Neither Avryl nor Anastasia would ever like this man.

“Is it because I haven’t been paying attention to you for a while? All the other men must have been interested in you.”

“What?”

“I usually just go with whichever lady approached me first. I thought you might be upset about how I ignored you.”

“Why are you telling me this when I don’t care who you go around with?” Anastasia spoke, thinking what he said was absurd. They were supposed to be married soon anyway. The past was the past, and at least she should feel some discomfort about that.

But right now, Anastasia was laser-focused on only one thing. Stepping on Finn’s feet.

“Ah!”

As Finn was about to say something, Anastasia quickly stepped on his foot. There was a bright smile on her face. Finn let out a rueful smile in response.

His shoes were made of thick leather, and she was feather-light. It did not hurt at all, and felt like only a slight pressure on his feet.

Nevertheless, she smiled brightly as if she had achieved her goal.

Looking at her radiant face, he felt he could only play along. If he lifted his foot, she would lose balance, and she would suffer even more embarrassment on her part. But somehow, he wanted to be the bigger person this time.

As if to flaunt her victory, Anastasia smiled at him. The curves on her red lips gave him a wonderful feeling, and her blue eyes twinkled in the light of the chandelier.

Finn could not help but drink in her beauty. In particular, those eyes had an extraordinary magical power that was indescribable. When he could see that kind of smile, the price of being stepped on seemed meagre in comparison.

Then he wanted to slap himself. What am I thinking? Am I crazy?

“You did nothing wrong to me,” she said, looking at Finn.

Finnickerhet Ian Rason did not do anything wrong to Anastasia. Even to Avryl personally, and whatever happened along the clan border was just honest war, brutal as it was. Rather…

Then the song was over. Anastasia removed her hand very lightly. She achieved her intended mission objective, and she felt good.

“You stepped on my feet. What are you going to do now?”

“Well, I am going home. Nothing good will happen if I stay here.”

Finn only then looked around. All those who looked at them did not seem complimentary towards Anastasia.

She shrugged. “I can’t help it. It’s a self-inflicted wound.”

He looked at her. Since she admitted it straightforwardly, he couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for her, replacing his earlier judgmental thoughts that her misfortune was her own fault.

Did he believe this woman? Did Renard put her up to that?

Somehow, Finn believed it. He just didn’t feel it was worth questioning. Whether Renard made her do it or not, she stood by her actions, and accepted the consequences.

“Next time….”

“Huh?”

“Call me the next time you attend a banquet.”

“Why?”

I’ll go with you then. Finn was about to say that and then closed his mouth. In the first place, it was better not to make promises he might not be able to keep. Feeling embarrassed about being overly friendly, he tried to send Anastasia off quickly.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

Since almost all the nobles were gathered for the Feast of Bounty banquet, there was no need for her to address them separately before leaving unless she was a part of the ruling Count’s family.

“First of all, my father……”

“I will tell Baron Kalinski. I’ll take you to the hoverlimo.” If the valets were on the ball, they would alert the chauffeurs of the departing nobles the moment they left the banquet hall.

Was he ever such a kind person? Or is it because we’re engaged? Maybe he treats all women like this…

“Are you always this kind to women?” Anastasia asked, raising the corners of her lips.

“What?”

What kind of bullshit was she talking about? Finn’s eyebrows twitched. What made him feel uneasy was Anastasia‘s mocking expression on her face. It was as if she knew everything, just like the expression Raymond sometimes made.

“Should I now remind you that you almost got killed a while ago?”

“Oh, yes. So, is that the reason for the escort, because you are worried about me?”

Even if that was the reason, seeing that kind of expression made him want to say no. Finn knew Anastasia should have been recognised for her bravery in taking down the Harvester. He was considerate in case she incurred psychological trauma, but he felt annoyed to be on the end of her teasing glances.

“Just go back alone then.”

“I will.” She turned her back to him decisively and walked away. Again, that also made him feel rotten. She displayed no hesitation and left him completely cold.

Finn reflected on himself whether he was unattractive as a man, and he concluded he wasn’t. It was rare for him to step into the social world, but every time he did, usually a beautiful woman would approach him.

He was quite certain he was good-looking. But for Anastasia, that didn’t work at all. Did she not like him? How could she dislike him? Because of his behaviour? Well, he was trying to be more civil to her.

Then Finn felt people’s gazes on him. Rumours would spread that they had a fight if he sent her alone, so Finn sighed, gave in to the inevitable, and followed after her.

He glanced at his watch, tuned to the local cycle. 2100 hrs, dusk turning to night. As Finn moved away from the banquet hall, the sky continued to slowly darken.

Finn immediately found Anastasia.

She must have walked quickly, as she was already some distance down the hallway. As Finn looked at her back, he frowned at his strange feeling about the way she walked.

The dress obscured her steps, but somehow they were unnatural. Finn didn’t notice it when she was walking earlier, but her fast walking was odd for a noblewoman. But then again, it didn’t seem that strange to him. He concluded that was probably just her.

Finn caught up with her with several long strides. He didn’t run because it might seem that he wanted her and was chasing after her.

“What, why did you follow me?”

“I don’t want to hear about sending my fiancée out alone.”

In response, she smirked and walked away again. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to be telling him not to follow her.

Wait a minute. Fortunate? He didn’t know why he was thinking that right now. Finn shook his head as if the thought itself was absurd.

After catching up with Anastasia, Finn walked with her along the corridor. Anastasia closed her mouth as if she didn’t want to talk to him much. She didn’t even glance at him.

However, Finn was able to look at Anastasia freely with peace of mind from the corner of his eyes. Her appearance alone was striking. If his father had chosen his fiancée for her looks, he could understand why she became his fiancée.

She had sleek hair as black as night, skin as white as milk, and fine features with delicate lines. A thin but soft neckline and exposed collarbone made her look elegant. Her appearance was something a lot of men would lose their minds over.

However, for Finn, her eyes, to be precise the twinkling of her eyes, strangely caught his attention more than anything. While dancing, her eyes were clearly bright and twinkling. Now her eyes were reflecting the aloofness of moonlight. Although it was not his first time meeting Anastasia, she seemed different. Whether it was because their relationship was all tied up with their engagement or the events that had happened, there was a different aura about her. Her star-studded eyes are like, yeah, like.....

Then, Finn suddenly woke up to the sound of a distant voice. Then his face frowned. It was the voice of Captain Larouche.

The bastard Spencer said he was in charge of the banquet security tonight. He must have been making some quick checks. Finn didn’t want to ruin his mood that had been good so far.

“Heard something?”

Suddenly she stopped her steps. It was clear to Finn where the voice was coming from, and for some reason, Anastasia took interest. Of course, Finn would have no idea that Anastasia would recognize Spencer Larouche’s voice.

“It’s not something my lady needs to care about. Let’s go.”

“No, I think I heard a voice. Whose voice was it?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.”

Finn pulled her arm gently. The two did not feel awkward because the physical touch happened so naturally. Anastasia’s curiosity did not subside, and she kept trying to look back. She was just a bit stubborn, but Finn didn’t feel the need to satisfy her curiosity.

To think about Anastasia meeting and greeting that bastard automatically made him feel rotten.

“Who is it?”

“It’s just a son of a bitch.” Finn spat out. It wasn’t his nature to speak badly of others to a stranger, but he showed his distaste in front of her for some reason.

“Son of a bitch? Those are strong words, my lord.”

Despite the insulting and vulgar expression, Anastasia asked again without being surprised. She didn’t even frown at it.

When he talked that way, except with his subordinates or aides, others usually showed their discomfort, but Anastasia’s attitude showed that it didn’t matter. Finn was somewhat satisfied with that part.

However, Anastasia was thinking a different thing. A son of a bitch? If that’s the case, Finn isn’t much better, since they are all Spheroid freeborn degenerates. What is with this violent hatred?

“Anyways, please remember that you are engaged to me. I absolutely detest him. If there is one person I hate most in the Inner Sphere, it would be him.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t even want to say his name.”

She didn’t want to get on Finn’s bad side since he had already offered to tidy up the loose ends after she kicked Renard, so she meekly nodded her head. She vowed that she would get that name later on her own.

As she grabbed her skirt and went down the steps of the palatial manor, she almost fell, tripping over her long dress.

Seeing this, Finn held out his hand. Anastasia glanced at his hand, yet as if to taunt him, she rolled up the hem of her dress and went carefully down the steps.

Just as she thought to herself that she did not need a man’s help, she again stumbled on her foot. Damn those heels!

Finn sighed and quickly grabbed her arm to support her. At his touch, Anastasia felt massive goosebumps. She thought about pulling her hand away, but her body staggered again.

She was sure it would be unsightly if she fell there. She swallowed her pride and forced herself to lean on Finn’s arm. As they struggled a bit for Anastasia to recover her balance, the two naturally held hands.

When they went down the stairs, the valets disappeared to call for the Kalinski hoverlimo, and they were momentarily alone.

Silence fell between Anastasia and Finn. Finn felt no need to say anything, and Anastasia was immersed in her thoughts about the voice she heard just now, which seemed so familiar. Then she realised that she was still holding hands with Finn.

“Can you let go of my hand now?”

Now that people weren’t watching, there was no need to be overly affectionate. She was a bit grateful for what he did for her, so she had just followed him, but not a bit longer than necessary. She hated that the engagement forced her to be so close to him physically, like a real lover.

At her sudden cold attitude, Finn raised one of his eyebrows and looked at Anastasia. The atmosphere, which had softened a little, was tense again. The reason Anastasia remained quiet was simple. This was a banquet that limited her behaviour, where she had to dance with him, and he said he would take care of her incident with Renard.

He shouldn’t mistake this as my affection. Anyways, he is the same as other men fussing over a pretty girl. Anastasia had no intention of being friends with Finn. When she glanced over at him, he also grinned as if he read her mind and smirked as if the notion itself was ridiculous.

Anastasia looked at Finn. She thought that if she was not forcibly invited to the banquet like this in the future, she would hardly have a chance to meet this man again. Of course, it was not likely anybody would be inviting her either.

When the hoverlimo arrived in front of them, Anastasia opened the door herself without waiting for the valet or Finn to do it for her. She then sighed as she leaned back on the seat. When she looked out the window, she saw Finn standing there, patiently waiting for her hoverlimo to leave before returning to the banquet hall.

Finn was looking at her, too, and their eyes met. After she settled into the hoverlimo, she began to look at him properly through the window.

His tall stature and good looks caught her eye. He had a chin with a strong masculine line and a sharp, clear nose as if carved into a sculpture. His green eyes were still sharp and intense. His dark red hair seemed like a dark flame in the night.

“He is handsome.” She hated to admit it, but it was the objective truth.
------------------------------
It's important to note how neglected the Outback is. For Finn to even get into the 1st Davion Guards was due to his academy performance and his family's history of service.

To put matters into context, Victor Steiner-Davion also graduated top of his class at the Nagelring and was promoted to Kommandant (Major) right off, in charge of a full mech battalion. So putting a backwoods yokel (even if he is a noble, because that's the perception in the FS) in charge of a lance in the 1st Davion Guards sounds about right.

[Sir Chaos]

I was under the impression that the Nagelring - at least the kind of track nobles are put on - trained officers, not mere mechwarriors, so any graduate would be a Lieutenant by default, and thus commanding a lance.

[The Wobbly Guy]

Kalinski Estate, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
21st February, 3061
2230 hrs (2230 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Immediately after returning from the Feast of Bounty banquet, Anastasia took off her cumbersome dress and got ready to rest. In the past, she must have gotten ill for a few days after every banquet because the servants immediately served her some medicine she recognised as prophylactics, and one of the maids gently massaged her legs to preempt any cramps.

Not that she really needed it now, with her improved physical condition, but she knew she could not afford to be careless with her health.

As sleep slowly descended on her, her thoughts floated and she reviewed the events of the day.

At the palatial manor, memories of Anastasia suddenly came to her, and the emotions of the original Anastasia began to surface. She harboured a pity for Baron Kalinski that Avryl would never have, and it was Anastasia who subtly guided her towards the reserved lounge. She then met that ****** Renard, and that was one of the worst experiences Avryl ever had. Which, coming from the hell which was warrior training in the sibko and the insanity of war in the Occupation Zone, said a lot.

Somehow, she felt a strong sense of rejection. It was annoying because the memories and emotions that were not hers kept popping up. Her memories and emotions belonged to her, yet why did the other person’s memories keep invading her thoughts at will?

Because of that discomfort, Anastasia laid in her bed with her eyes half-closed, but she only managed to sleep after a long time ruminating over her own thoughts.

Nevertheless, the following cycle, when the Baron kissed her on the forehead, she suddenly woke up, startled.

It was just an affectionate morning greeting between father and daughter, but to her, it still felt like she had received a kiss from a stranger. But, oddly enough, she did not feel too bad about it either..

“Did you sleep well?” The concern on his face was obvious.

She asked softly, “When did you come in?”

“I came back a little late. Sorry for letting you go home first.”

“It’s okay.”

Then her maid brought a wet towel. The Baron took it and wiped her face himself.

I can do this on my own. But the Baron seemed to want to do it, so she let him.

His hands were very soft, completely different from the tough, hardened hands of trained soldiers. Anastasia was a bit disappointed that he had left her alone among the people yesterday.

“I’m sorry, I’m still treating you like a child.”

“……?”

“You are an adult already. You look so much like Grace.”

‘Who is Grace?’ As Anastasia recalled her name to herself, the word ‘mother’ came to mind.

Again, she remembered something she didn’t know as Avryl. It fouled her mood, but Anastasia tried to ignore it and turned her gaze to the Baron.

The bittersweet look on his face surprised Anastasia. The feelings that parents felt when they saw their grown-up children was something Avryl could not comprehend at all.

She did not grow up in a normal family as traditionally understood. Once decanted from the canisters they gestated in, trueborns were raised in creches by caretakers, ‘sibparents’, who cared for them, educated them, and started training them in combat skills. Those who did not wash out are promoted into sibling companies, ‘sibkos’, where their training was intensified to prepare them to serve their clan as warriors. In Clan Smoke Jaguar, there was little emotional attachment between the caretakers and their charges. Avryl did not even know what happened to her own sibparents. Probably rotting somewhere after the Clan’s annihilation. She made a mental note to find out if it was even possible to track them down.

Many children and cadets did not even wash out of training into the lower castes. They died, and few tears were shed for their passing. The common refrain by her sibparents and Kit Masters was often, “They were not good enough.”

So family was very much a foreign concept to her. She really had nothing close in her experience to compare the Baron to.

“I heard that Viscount Rason escorted you yesterday. I heard he is nice to you. I was worried, but his behaviour has now assured me you are in good hands.”

At the Baron’s words, Anastasia smiled wanly. He’d faint if she said that at their first meeting, she had asked Finn to divorce her as soon as they got married.

No, even more so once he finds out that there’s no Anastasia, but a Smoke Jaguar mechwarrior inhabiting her body.

He put away the towel, and they laughed together. Strangely, that spread some warmth in her heart.

“I can spend the whole cycle with you today. Do you want to go shopping?” Although the day after the Feast of Bounty was also a public holiday, the shops would still be open for business.

Anastasia shook her head. She could feel her energy levels were still low from the banquet, so she thought she should take a rest. Still, the Baron’s proposal made her happy. He must have been aware that she was frustrated while taking the etiquette classes.

“Father, you need to rest, too.”

At that, the Baron widened his eyes and then smiled.

“Ana, you have matured. Grown up.”

Soon after, they were eating a small breakfast together and drinking tea when a maid brought a letter to Anastasia and handed it to her. Anastasia was astonished to learn that it was from Count Haynes.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t get to have a word with you last night. I have some questions I would like to ask you. I have arranged for a short meeting at 1200 hrs without anyone disturbing us.”

Maybe it was because of what she did to Renard? She thought he wouldn’t talk because he would be ashamed, but did he inform his father? Maybe he was dumber than she thought.

Anastasia’s fingertips trembled slightly at her shock. Baron Kalinski also looked at the letter and spoke with concern.

“I heard Count Haynes was looking for you yesterday, but I didn’t know he would even invite you like this.”

“Was he looking for me?”

When she asked, the Baron nodded his head.

“Was he angry?”

“No, I don’t think so…”

Does he really know nothing? Or was Count Haynes hiding his intentions from Baron Kalinski? It was true that this invitation felt somewhat ominous as the Count’s intentions were unknown.

Anastasia frowned upon seeing the Count’s seal on the letter.

The seal of the Trivet was three items juxtaposed on each other, a stalk of wheat, a gemstone, and a dagger, symbolising the purpose of each world in the Trivet. Of course, the mailed fist set against a sunburst was also present, the symbol of the Federated Commonwealth.

Without realising it, she was holding the letter so tightly that it was crumpling under her grip.

The phrase ‘without anybody disturbing us’ meant that Anastasia had to enter the manor alone.

Baron Kalinski offered to accompany her, but she refused, thinking that the Count should have a good reason to see her alone.

[The Wobbly Guy]

22nd February, 3061
1600 hrs (1200 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Anastasia had a feeling she would still be a frequent visitor to the Haynes palatial manor, even after her very scandalous breakup with Renard Haynes.

Following her attendant, she noted the Haynes household guards patrolling the manor. It was, she supposed, an occupational routine, to observe the habits and movements of possibly hostile soldiers. The men were all wearing red uniforms. She vaguely remembered the local militia wore uniforms of a different colour, the green of the AFFC.

Avryl recalled studying reports on how planetary forces in the Inner Sphere were organised, along feudal, planetary, and/or state lines, in preparation for her raids into the Draconis Combine. It was enough to make her head hurt. The clan structure was, she determined, far easier to organise.

“Is there something wrong, my lady?”

“Oh, nothing is wrong.”

Anastasia realised that she was too deep in her thoughts and shook her head at the attendant’s words.

The dress uniform of Clan Smoke Jaguar was the same for all its warriors, grey with black and scarlet piping. They only distinguished each other by the daggerstars that denoted their rank, plus maybe one or two decorations and awards that only the very best and bravest managed to attain.

Then she made eye contact with the household guards. As Anastasia greeted them with her eyes as a courtesy, they passed her blushing and coughing. She rolled her eyes, not impressed with their self-control when faced with a beautiful woman.

Walking down the hallway leading to the Count’s office, Anastasia mentally checked what she was going to say.

Hmmm… She could fake crying. Obviously, if it was Avryl, it would never work, but if it was Anastasia, Count Haynes might believe her when she said Renard assaulted her. Besides, it was the truth that she did not give him consent at all.

So, would it be better to be honest? She had absolutely no intel on Count Haynes’s personality, she could not figure out the best way to talk to him. In such a case, maybe it was better to keep quiet instead?

After much thought, at the end of the hallway she saw a thick, ornate door. She figured it must be the door to his office.

The door opened, and Anastasia carefully stepped onto the rich grey carpet.

She kept her eyes down, as instructed by Madame Iris, so Anastasia could only see his desk.

Although she stood before him, the Count remained silent for several moments. Anastasia finally grabbed the hem of her skirt and curtsied politely.

“Lady Anastasia Kalinska, heir to Baron Boris Kalinski, greets Count Haynes, master of the Trivet.”

The greeting she thought she would not be able to pull off came out smoothly.

“No need to be so formal,” he scoffed, “look up.”

She raised her head and looked at the Count.

As she had guessed, he did not look impressive in the least. Just a slightly obese old man with greying hair. In the clans, warriors his age would already be sent out as cannon fodder to soak up bullets. But up close, his eyes were shrewd and cunning, and she instinctively recognised she should be cautious around him.

“How old were you when I first saw you?”

“I was twelve years old, my lord.”

Without even thinking about it, she answered the question. She supposed if she got it wrong, she could claim she didn’t remember. Even the Count would not be idle enough to remember the age of a young girl.

“Yes, it was.”

What… she was right?

Then she realised that the reason she answered correctly was that her body remembered it. Anastasia’s memory was still there. Somehow.

“I still remember you hiding behind Baron Kalinski’s legs, peeking out at me. But now you are able to look straight at me. Are you not afraid of me now?”

Are you not afraid of me now? It was an ambiguous question, dangerously phrased. Despite his appearance, the Count was not easy to deal with. Anastasia controlled her breathing and spoke.

“My lord, do you want me to be afraid of you?”

The Count smirked. “I asked first. You should answer.”

It meant that he did not want the usual games of wordplay and evasive answers. The calm atmosphere tensed up. Anastasia felt a bit of cold sweat on her back under his piercing gaze.

Anastasia tried to understand the Count’s intentions. This man had ruled the Trivet since before Anastasia or Avryl were even born, and she had to admit that he was different from the people she had usually dealt with in the past. Despite his looks, his eyes were as shrewd as any Khan’s.

She decided to speak honestly, “I cannot answer that question, my lord, because I do not understand why you would even ask such a question.” If this was a kind of test, she didn’t know the answer, so how should she answer it?

She didn’t know the Count’s intentions and she had no way to escape. So, she figured it was better to be honest. Internally, she cursed vehemently. Despite what he implied, they were still engaged in word games. She hated playing all these political games as Avryl since she had no real talent for it, not even in the clans.

Oh sure, the Clans claimed they were above politics, but as naive as she was, even she knew better.

He waved a hand, “Tell me more.”

Anastasia raised her eyes. “My lord, I am not clever nor do I have the skills to determine what you really want. If you ask me if I’m afraid, yes, I’m afraid. My lord has the power to punish my family. But if you’re talking about yourself, the person sitting in front of me right now, talking to me at this moment, I’m not afraid.”

At that, the Count smirked.

“It is my power that is scary, but you are not afraid of myself, as a person?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord.”

A heavy silence fell upon him. It wasn’t a lie, wasn’t that actually true for most people? Yes, she was very wary on the few occasions she came face to face with Lincoln Osis, the Khan of the Smoke Jaguars, because he had both the authority to destroy her and the physical prowess to easily snap her into half with his bare hands.

But the Count was not physically imposing. Rather, it was the authority he wielded that made him dangerous.

Count Haynes looked straight at Anastasia, and Anastasia held his gaze steadily.

His silent search came and went, and the Count kneaded his forehead several times.

Despite his inexplicable actions, Anastasia’s feelings were calm because the Count did not seem to be angry. This was Avryl’s own intuition. Soon, as she expected, the Count lifted the corner of his mouth and laughed.

“You are going to give Baron Kalinski and Viscount Rason headaches.”

Why is he mentioning that stupid Finn here? Anastasia groaned inwardly. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to have said anything that would get her into trouble.

“There is no simple answer to my question. I just asked for its own sake.”

Did he really have to ask that supposedly simple question while obviously creating tension in the room? Anastasia wanted to protest against his unfair tactics, but she bit her tongue.

“Everyone always tries to guess the meaning of my words.”

Well, duh. That was only to be expected. The Count had almost absolute power in the Trivet, who would dare cross him if they said something wrong?

“Sometimes, what I say is just what it is.” He smiled and beckoned Anastasia to sit down on a seat in the room. After a moment’s hesitation, Anastasia sat down. She took a closer look at the Count.

His eyes were black, a colour anyone could have, his nose was blunt, and his mouth was wrinkled. If he didn’t sit on the throne and wasn’t clad in rich robes, would anyone be able to think of him as the ruler of the Trivet?

Again, she could not help but contrast him against the leaders of the clans. Every single one of the Khans exuded charisma, authority, and menace, even the septuagenarians of Clan Nova Cat, no matter what they wore.

“Girl, I don’t have any ill intentions towards you. Look at you. You were just a child hiding behind her father. But now you’re all grown up, standing proudly before me as a noble lady. I can feel the years weigh on me.”

“My lord, I cannot remain a child forever.”

When Anastasia answered without hesitation, the Count nodded. Then he looked straight at Anastasia. He stroked his chin with one hand.

“I knew that you had a special relationship with Renard. But I did not consent officially to your relationship. Why do you think so?” he asked.

“Isn’t it because you don’t like me?”

The Count was taken aback by her direct reply. Anastasia was overly blunt, and she knew she did not have much tact. Maybe that was why Avryl often got into trouble back in the clan. If it was not for the bloodname she had earned, and the support of saKhan Brandon Howell, she would have been stuck back in the homeworlds on dreary garrison duty, and probably died there instead of on Garstedt.

“…Why did you think so?” asked the Emperor, puzzled.

“Because Baron Haynes said so.”

“Tsk. Tsk. My son has no respect.” He clicked his tongue and frowned.

“I never said anything like that. It was simply dynastic politics. I hoped, still hope, in fact, that Renard would be able to marry the daughter of a powerful lord elsewhere in the realm, solidifying our ties with other worlds to bring gains for the Trivet. You, on the other hand, would not bring anything to the table. That is why I did not approve of your relationship.”

Well, that made sense.

“But I didn’t know that you were so serious about your relationship with Renard. Serious enough to jump into the manor lake. If I knew your determination, I would have reconsidered my decision.”

From the look on his face, Anastasia realised why she was not punished for her massive scandal she created by jumping into the manor lake. The Count wanted to bury the issue.

“Do you still love Renard? If you truly do not want it, I can break your engagement with Viscount Rason.”

And now, with these words from the Count, Anastasia knew that the Count had no idea what she had done to Renard yesterday. She sighed in relief mentally.

The reason the Count had called her aside was to ask her opinion without any interruption.

Well, it probably was not difficult for him to break her engagement, but if so, she might get engaged to that bastard Renard instead.

Neg, she knew when to fold her cards instead of taking unnecessary risks.

“Thank you for your concern, my lord, but my relationship with Baron Haynes, it’s over.”

At Anastasia’s words, the Count looked puzzled for an instant and then smiled softly, as if he understood.

“Has Viscount Rason treated you well?”

“He has not been unkind to me.”

At Anastasia’s words, the Count burst into laughter again. “He is not a bad fellow.”

Anastasia frowned, not answering that. Seeing her expression, the Count nodded his head as if he knew what was going on.

“Girl, you are not good at hiding your true feelings.”

She heard that almost every day when she was Avryl. In critical situations, she could master her own facial expressions, but once she thought it was safe, she just relaxed and dropped her guard.

“House Rason controls Delacambre. It is heavily fortified and produces much of our advanced technology and military supplies. Their soldiers are well-trained, and he’s not exactly lacking for money. Finally, he’s not ugly. You should find him a decent catch.”

“Well, I think so.”

When she answered reluctantly, the Count grinned and shook his head in a slightly mocking manner.

“If you ever want to end your engagement, just tell me. It is for that reason that I have called you today. If the relationship isn’t right, then we need to fix it.”

If she asked him to end her engagement here, will Anastasia be linked with Baron Haynes? If she were the real Anastasia, she would welcome it, but she didn’t want to marry that ******. Viscount Finn Rason was infinitely better. Anastasia suppressed her own feelings of discomfort towards accepting the idea of marriage so easily and expressed her gratitude.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Yes. Just one last thing.”

Anastasia tilted her head in silent query.

“It was a brave feat, taking down that Harvester mech. In so doing, you also quelled the riots.  Do you wish for any reward?”

None from your hands, she thought. It would make her beholden to him. Besides, she knew her actions were highly suspicious and the best course of action was to just lie low and let the matter rest.

“No reward is needed, my lord. I merely got lucky.”

He nodded. “Well, the offer always stands. Thank you for coming to meet me.” He gestured for her to leave. The Count had work to do, and he had made time to meet her.

Anastasia once again curtsied and left the meeting room. The attendant waited outside the door and immediately plastered herself to her side the moment she stepped out.

As she walked along with the attendant, she thought about how she felt. She knew she was not good at emotional thinking, but it was easy for her to be honest with herself. But now, she admitted she was somewhat confused.

The nobles of the Inner Sphere were decadent, but not all were degenerates like Renard. The Count seemed decent enough, and she knew from experience that Finn was stupid but honourable. There were others, like the samurai of the Draconis Combine, many of whom had bravely met their deaths against her Binary. She had learned to respect the warriors of the Inner Sphere.

But this was the first time she had a bit of respect for somebody from the Inner Sphere who was not a warrior. She felt a bit confused.

She realised she had lost attention of where she was going. The attendant next to her smiled blandly, “My lady, is something the matter?”

“Uhm, where are we going?”

The attendant suddenly looked stricken. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Since it is around 1200 hrs, I thought it was time for you to have your meal, so I’m bringing you to a lounge where we would serve you refreshments. Is that acceptable, my lady?”

“Oh.” She did not feel hungry, caught up in the stress of meeting the Count, but she supposed she could eat something now. “Yes please, lead the way.”

The attendant brought her to a luxurious lounge with tasteful leather sofas, and dominated by a huge viewscreen adorning one side of the wall. Advanced projectors at the sides hinted that it had an alternate holovid mode for full colour holographic projections for the latest in media entertainment,

“This lounge is reserved only for important guests, my lady.” The attendant explained. “Food will be served shortly. Feel free to use the noteputers or to browse the channels available for the viewscreen and holovid.”

Anastasia’s eyes lit up. Dual mode viewscreen/holovid for her use? She had been so overwhelmed with the deluge of dance and etiquette lessons in recent weeks that she did not even have time to indulge her own interests.

Watching historical movies, particularly those involving intricate strategy and massive battles, was one of her hidden pleasures. But back in the Kalinski estate, she had been too busy to do so, and anyway, they didn’t have such shows in their database because ‘they are too violent and not suitable for a lady’.

And this viewscreen was much bigger than any found in the estate, and way bigger than what the clans could ever countenance, even when using a holotank to conduct strategic planning. She idly wondered how much it cost. Anyway, she had a bit of time, maybe she could squeeze in something relatively short and particularly violent?

The latest Solaris Grand Tournament matches? Given that the latest edition only concluded in November of the previous year, there was a high chance they might have received the latest holovids. Yes, those might be fake warriors merely playing at the real thing, but some of them were veterans of the Clan front and worthy of respect.

She picked up the remote, and switched it on. She typed in the keyword ‘Solaris’, and a spate of options opened up on the screen. Her eyes glanced over the options available, then she started when she saw the name ‘Garrett Smoke Jaguar’. Matched against Jamie Ferraro.

Without reading the synopsis of the match, she just played it. The entire arena formed a three dimensional projection in front of her, and two mechs stalked each other from opposite ends. The high resolution enabled her to easily identify the mechs, Garrett’s Mad Dog, and his opponent’s Flashman.

The battle was over in minutes. Garrett fought with the expected fury of a Smoke Jaguar, riding his heat levels relentlessly to pin down his opponent, then pouncing on and finishing off Jamie’s Flashman with a barrage from his Mad Dog’s SRM racks. The mechwarrior duelist in Anastasia noted that Garrett ran too many risks for her liking, and against a more patient foe, could be undone by his own ferocity.

Though the match was short, the commentators provided enough information for her to learn that Garrett was a survivor from the Occupation Zone, and made his way to Solaris with his omnimech. Omnimechs were superior to normal battlemechs due to their modular weapons systems and quicker ease of repair for damaged weapons components, greatly simplifying logistics and could be customised to suit specific terrain or battle conditions. With clan-spec weapons, Garrett’s Mad Dog gave him a decisive edge in most duels.

It gave her hope. There should be more survivors like Garrett, so her binary could have survived!

She flipped through the menu again. There were some more matches that could possibly be of interest, and she was about to select one of them when the door suddenly barged open.

It was a man with black glasses, with long blond hair down to his shoulders.

He was struggling with several books while using his body to keep the door open. Then, Anastasia and the man’s eyes met.

“Ahhhh!”

He dropped all the books he was holding as if startled by her appearance in the room. The books did not male a loud noise on the carpeted floor, and they scattered all over.

Anastasia automatically crouched down to pick up the books. When she looked at the first book in her hand, she noticed that it was a love story with an unusually long and lurid title.

“Lady Kalinska, this is heavy.”

Does he know me? Then Anastasia remembered that the man was the second son of the Count, Raymond.

“Greetings, my lord…”

“Ahhhh!”

Raymond was about to wave his hand, saying it was okay to skip the greeting, but he dropped the book he had just picked up again.

Freebirth, is he stupid? She started picking up the book again.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, my lady.”

The future of the Trivet did not bode well. The heir Renard was just garbage, and the second son was an imbecile.

Then she put her hand on the last book at the same time that Raymond’s hand reached for it.

“Hmmm…?”

At the familiar touch on the back of her hand, she widened her eyes and looked at Raymond. He smiled, not knowing why. Anastasia furrowed her eyebrows very slightly. This man was dangerous.

“My lady, allow me.”

Anastasia quietly removed her hand from the book. He placed the last book on his pile and easily lifted the whole stack. Anastasia narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t disturb you. I thought this room was not in use.”

Anastasia forced herself to be polite. “No, it’s fine.”

He smiled, and given what she just learned, it only made him seem more dangerous.

He placed the stack of books on a table. “I like to do my reading here, and enjoy the viewscreen too. Do you know this is the biggest dual mode viewscreen in the entire manor, and in the entire Trivet? It’s a special customised import from New Avalon too.”

Her eyes widened a bit.

He rambled on, “My mother thought it was a waste of money, but my father the Count insisted. To impress our guests, he said. So we got it, and since we have it, might as well enjoy it.”

He glanced over at the options menu presented on the screen, and Anastasia cursed inwardly.

“Solaris Grand Tournament matches?” His eyes glowed with interest. “I didn’t know my lady was into this sort of thing.”

She thought fast. “My fiance is a mechwarrior. I thought I should perhaps learn a bit about his profession.”

“Oh, Viscount Rason would like that, my lady.” He flicked through the menu, “But may I suggest something milder than the Solaris Games? Something more educational perhaps?”

Anastasia nodded her head slowly and reluctantly. She knew he was trying to manipulate her, but there was nothing she could do without revealing her own expertise.

He continued to talk, flicking through the available options, yammering away with his recommendations, while Anastasia silently observed him.

He was a handsome man with a docile, scholarly look. The way he talked was smooth and suave, a marked contrast from Finn’s direct strength. It seemed he also loved to talk, but Anastasia felt it was a facade because there was an undercurrent of suspicion about him.

“My lady?”

“Oh, nothing. Carry on with your suggestions.”

Raymond seemed to be laughing at her. Anastasia hoped the food would arrive soon so she would have a reason not to talk to him any further. She very well could not ask him to shut up.

“Oh, what’s this?” Raymond exclaimed. A pop-up appeared in a corner, stating ‘News update!’

“My lady, do you mind if I find out about the latest news?”

She waved a hand, “Go ahead.” The way she saw it, nothing interesting particularly happened on Inman. The most exciting recent events were the Feast of Bounty celebrations, the Harvester incident, and the riots. She wondered what the latest update was about.

He pressed a control on the remote, and the holographic menu disappeared to a two-dimensional image on the viewscreen, showing a female presenter in a studio.

“The Archon-Princess has expressed her full confidence in the Trivet’s local forces to fend off any enemy attacks. Let us now go to the press conference, where Captain Sir Spencer Larouche will brief us on how the additional funds from the AFFC will be used to bolster our defences.”

The image cut to a small stage with a podium.

Then her world suddenly narrowed to just the viewscreen.

Pence Lamongue was standing at the podium. He was clad in the red uniform of the Haynes household guards, wearing his usual oily smirk. He bore no signs nor scars of the bitter struggle against the Inner Sphere. His uniform was clean and well-pressed, and he looked every bit the part of a charismatic mechwarrior officer.

But she knew better. She could not hear anything else except the blood rushing through her head, her ears. Her vision was tinged with red. She had no idea what was going on or what that treacherous stravag piece of dezgra dung was saying, but she hardly cared.

She just wanted him dead, or at least out of her sight. She did not even notice when she had grabbed a nearby flower pot.

“My lady!”

It took a while for Raymond’s voice to register in her brain.

“Put down that pot, my lady! It’s dangerous!”

She turned to him, her demeanour icy cold. She placed the pot on the table, then used both hands to hold Raymond by his collar, and gave him a hard shake.

“Who is he?”

“Don’t you know him? He’s the commander of our household guards.”

"Very well." She let go of his collar, and reached for the pot to throw it at the holoprojector.

"No!" Raymond grabbed it at the same time, their hands on opposite edges of the pot.

Anastasia didn’t care. She still wasn’t nowhere as strong as she needed, wanted, to be, but she knew leverage. She stepped in, twisting her body so that she could put both hands on the pot and wrench it from his single handed grasp.

He reacted almost instinctively, his feet carrying him away from her so that he could still put his other hand on the pot.

Her eyes narrowed at his sudden economy of movement, which spoke of extensive training, especially for warriors. “You are a mechwarrior. Stop acting dumb!”

Raymond’s gaze changed in an instant. From a nerdy wimp, his gait changed to that of a man in his prime. He smiled mischievously, and gave Anastasia a look of sheer curiosity. He seemed to be very interested in her situation now.

“You should have seen Captain Larouche before. But then again, you only ever had eyes for Renard,” he mused, one hand still on the pot.

“…Captain Larouche?”

“More precisely, Captain Spencer Larouche. He’s the military aide to the Count and as I already said, commander of our household troops. My lady, are you interested in him, instead of Viscount Rason?”

Her face paled on hearing Raymond’s words. Her mouth turned up in a sneer at the insinuation.

“My lady, I apologise for misunderstanding. So you’re not interested in him? He’s just a former officer from the LAAF we took on to improve our defences. He’s especially close to Renard. His nickname around these parts is ‘Renard’s Ass-wiper’”

She yanked at the pot again, this time using both hands, but his single hand was just able to hang on to it..

Raymond tsked. “This viewscreen is expensive. Can’t let it get wrecked.” He shrugged in regretful exasperation, then his free hand descended on the back of her neck. Knowing what this meant, she still struggled to hold onto consciousness.

But her vision was getting blurry. Then, at some point, darkness came, and she collapsed on the spot.
---------------------------------
Well, now we know where Pence Lamongue ended up.

[The Wobbly Guy]

Rason Estate, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
22nd February, 3061
2000 hrs (1600 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Finn had seen a lot of unpleasant stuff in his life.

On the battlefields of Operation Bulldog, he had witnessed firsthand the horrors of war, and sometimes the worst humanity could inflict on itself. Panicked soldiers firing on innocents, civilians fighting one another over scarce supplies of food and water, rich merchants taking advantage of desperate families.

But what happened on Garstedt would be forever etched in his memory.

His mech company had filed into the mechbay of the Smoke Jaguar firebase, accompanied by several APCs carrying infantry and other support personnel, notably DCMS troopers and ISF agents.

The mech bay looked like an abattoir. Corpses were strewn all over, puddles of blood, and in the middle of it was a smirking Pence Lamongue, his palms faced upwards and empty, showing that he was not a threat.

Finn had been so tempted to shoot him right there and then, but the DCMS liaison assured him that Pence had switched sides and was now under their protection.

Clanners do not switch sides until after a defeat, and even then preferred to prove their loyalty as bondsmen first. Finn knew this. For a clanner to switch before a battle is decided, something was very wrong.

He climbed down from his Rifleman, the infantry already respectfully lining up the bodies for identification with handheld cameras before placing them in body bags with tags. A number of the bodies wore the daggerstar on their uniforms that marked them as mechwarriors. Others were support personnel. From the exit wounds on their bodies, some had been shot from the back. Many more had been cut down by prepared explosives and minefields.

It was almost impossible to defend against a trap set from within.

Most importantly, Finn did not see Star Captain Avryl Showers’ body. From what the DCMS liaison told him, she was Pence’s priority target.

He gave Pence a glowering look of menace. “You betrayed your comrades, and even killed your own commander.”

Pence shrugged nonchalantly, as though it was just an ordinary day for him, “What can I say? We were outnumbered, there was likely no way out, and the offer was too good. I do not want to die, there are still a lot of things left in life to enjoy.”

Finn gritted his teeth, then walked off to look through the base.

“If you are looking for Star Captain Showers, what is left of her is in the watch station.” Pence called out behind him. “You must be glad I killed her for you, Captain Finn.”

Glad? Finn did not think so.

It took a while, but the firebase layout was plastered on some corners, so he easily figured it out.

I have to see for myself, he told himself as he walked to the watch station, dread pooling in his stomach.

Then he found her.

Star Captain Avryl Showers was slumped over a console, one hand just below the button that would have alerted the firebase, a bloody hole in her back surrounded by the seared fabric of her uniform. Obviously, she succeeded, because they knew a significant portion of the Jaguar’s Mists had still managed to escape. There was no blood except for some around her mouth. Pence had used a laser weapon to kill her, cauterising the open wounds.

Her light brown eyes were still open, and Finn felt conflicted. She was an enemy mechwarrior, but she was skilled and honourable, in many ways the epitome of what a mechwarrior should be. She did not deserve to die like this, betrayed by a shot in the back.

He sighed, and drew one hand over her face to close her eyes. She looked so peaceful in death, so different from before, when her face and eyes were alight with the exhilaration of battle, an intoxicating presence that drew in both allies and enemies alike, which made the DCMS nickname her ‘Black Lotus’.

You couldn’t keep your promise, he thought in regret. She had promised him a one-on-one duel, to finally prove who was the better mechwarrior.

It would never happen now.

He gently lifted her body, and carried it out to the mech bay, where they would officially record her death. Then they would follow the customs of the clans and cremate their bodies.

To his disgust, the Draconis Combine’s Internal Security Force (ISF) rewarded Pence with a fortune. When he asked about it, the DCMS liaison told him that paying off a traitor was still a lot more cost effective than trying to take down the Jaguar’s Mists in battle, particularly with Avryl Showers in command. That was how much they feared and respected her.

Then to further his disgust, instead of killing him to shut him up, as they often did, the ISF foisted Pence off to the Lyran Intelligence Corps (LIC), and the next thing Finn knew was that Pence suddenly turned up on Inman, armed with a new name, a new history as a former Lyran Alliance Armed Forces officer who fought the clans, and still holding onto his own clan-spec Banshee, along with an expensive gift for Count Haynes. That, along with a quick demonstration of his skills in a mech, was more than enough to get him hired by the Count, along with a knighthood that enfeoffed him within the aristocracy.

Pence Lamongue may be a piece of canister-born scum, but like all clan bloodname holders, he was a gifted mechwarrior.

Finn had wanted to reveal the origins of ‘Spencer Larouche’, but strict directives from the Star League ordered him to never reveal Pence’s identity nor his betrayal. So all Finn could do was seethe quietly, hoping that one day the man would slip up and get into trouble.

If Pence had shown just the tiniest bit of remorse over his betrayal of his clan and his comrades, Finn would not have held so much animosity against him. He knew that circumstances sometimes drove people to do things they did not want. In fact, Task Force Serpent was only possible because of Trent’s betrayal, but Finn had heard enough over the rumour mill that Trent had very good reasons for his actions.

Basically, Trent did not do it for money. He did it for honour, for the ideal of a clan that had lost its way. He asked only for a worthy cause to fight for, and warriors to command in battle. Simple needs for a simple warrior.

In contrast, Pence simply showed no regret for what he had done, and revelled in his ill-gotten gains. Finn knew that when not on duty, Pence would live it up in his own mansion, indulging in excesses and other extravagant displays of wealth, with Renard often in attendance and participating with glee. Absolutely revolting.

Finn could not even unravel his own feelings towards Avryl. Was it sympathy, pity, or exasperation at her foolishness and naivete? Or was it even mourning?

Avryl fought for her clan and her beliefs, but was betrayed by her own subordinate. Sometimes, she would even appear in his nightmares, tormenting him with the unfulfilled promise between them.

“One day, we will face each other in a Circle of Equals, and prove once and for all who is the better mechwarrior. This I swear to you.” It was the last thing she had said to Finn, on Yamarovka, after she accepted his offer of hegira.

Finn, lost in his thoughts, was brought back to the present when his assistant Eric woke him from his siesta and gave him the latest news. Upon hearing it, Finn grew concerned.

“Lady Kalinska went to the palatial manor in the morning?”

Oh, no. Did the Count find out what she did yesterday? Despite his appearance as a genial old man, Count Haynes had a hidden vindictive side. If he felt offended, she would still be punished.

Why did she have to kick Renard there? he lamented. He decided to go to the palatial manor and find an opportunity to talk to Count Haynes. He intended to keep his promise to take care of any loose ends.

This time, Finn was going to be proactive. Renard was too licentious, and he would tell Count Haynes what Anastasia had revealed to him. Then the Count wouldn’t be too angry.

He wondered how Anastasia would react if he helped her this time.

This I swear to you. Would she ever say that to him? Then Finn realised he was remembering Avryl, not Anastasia, and shook his head.

Why was Avryl still tormenting him? To make matters worse, his thoughts kept mixing Anastasia and Avryl up, even though they were two completely different people. But the way Anastasia talked to him…

Feels like today is an unlucky day, he thought to himself.

He thought of glittering blue eyes the colour of sapphires and ebony-black hair. The laughter of delight that hung in the air amidst the lights of the chandeliers as they danced came to mind.

Finn shook his head to dislodge the distracting thoughts. He was about to leave when news came of Anastasia’s collapse.

 
23rd February, 3061
1000 hrs (0200 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

It was raining.

Anastasia blinked her eyes slowly and looked out the window. It was early in the current cycle, with several hours left to go til dawn. The sky was black, with the clouds blocking even the stars from sight.

The sound of rain filled the quiet room. She knew that she was in her own room, not at the palatial manor.

Luckily, she was returned to the Kalinski estate after creating such a commotion.

Anastasia groaned. She still had a sore pain in the back of her neck from being hit. Sitting on her bed, leaning back, she listened to the sound of the rain.

She recalled what she saw before she fainted.

On the viewscreen, Pence had worn a red uniform and that familiar disgusting smirk.

“Spencer Larouche.” Anastasia muttered his name. She had to admit, it was pretty smart of him to use a fake name that sounded so similar to his real one. But to give up the Lamongue Bloodname he had earned with so much blood and pain, just like that?

A small chuckle leaked out, then she twisted her lips up and burst into laughter. It was funny, so funny that she felt mad. She was still so hung up on the clans when he had obviously abandoned everything from them to build a new life for himself. She did not know how or why he betrayed her and the clans, but the very fact he did meant that she never even knew him at all.

And he was the warrior the Clan Watch had selected to ensure the Wardens in her unit remained loyal?

What a hilarious joke. In the end, he was the traitor, not the Wardens.

She tried to get out of bed, but she fell to the floor because her legs were so weak. But she continued to laugh, amused by the cruel joke the universe played on her.

It was not something she had even thought about, since the chances of finding him amongst the vast trillions of people in the entire human sphere were slimmer than finding survivors of the clan. But out of all the worlds populated by humanity, Pence had to turn up on the very same one she was somehow resurrected in?

Oh yes, she certainly wanted him dead.

She thought back to his words to her just before she died. He somehow made a deal with the Inner Sphere, probably through their intelligence agencies. Was it for money? It certainly was not for honour.

So Pence had given up everything he once had as a clan warrior and exchanged those for being a Captain of some pathetic household guards in some shithole of an Outback world.

She had tried to live as Anastasia, but she realised she just passively adapted to her circumstances without taking any real initiative of her own. She had some vague thoughts of finding survivors of her clan, specifically the members of the Jaguar’s Mists, but did nothing to advance that objective.

But now…

Clarity of purpose slowly dawned on her. She had been too complacent. Seeing Pence made her realise who she was and the death she had suffered.

Anastasia opened her room door and stepped out into the quiet, dimly lit hallway.

No one stopped her at this time since even the servants were still asleep. She had lost strength again, but she knew what she needed to do.

He killed her, so she will kill him. That was the only fitting surkairede for him.

“…Pence… Pence…” She kept muttering his name as she prowled the empty corridors of the estate mansion. The urge to kill him was overpowering, the rage in her bubbling up uncontrollably.

She wandered the hallways of the quiet mansion until she finally got to where she had seen a ceremonial sword that she had kept an eye on. As she stretched and reached out to grab the sword and lifted it, her body staggered at its sheer weight.

Anastasia gritted her teeth, grabbed it, and walked back down the hallway and out the front door.

Heavy rain hammered down in the dark night. She did not even care that she was only wearing a thin nightgown, almost immediately drenched in the rain, while she cradled the sword against her chest, her wet hair plastered around her face and body.

She began to walk across the grass field, not even caring that she was barefoot. The rain-soaked soil splattered over her bare white feet, but she did not care either.

Step by step, she moved forward, driven by a fury within that could not be quenched by the rain. When she approached the estate’s front gate, she slipped and fell in the rain-soaked mud.

“Ooof!”

Stravag. She cursed. When she was Avryl, she rarely slipped and fell in the mud.

Even though it was only a slight fall onto the soft mud, her body was winded by the impact, and it took her long moments to catch her breath back before she could get back up again. To make matters worse, her long, wet hair blocked her view.

She tried to use the sword as support to stand up, but the scabbard did not find enough purchase into the soft soil, and she fell again with a curse.

Fallen, she put her arms on the ground and levered her body up. Then her gaze fell upon her trembling arm. The pale skin and frail wrists. She looked at her own weak, fragile body. Even though she had just been in the rain for barely more than a minute, she had begun trembling. She was startled by her sudden realisation and slowly shook her head.

No, I am not like this. This… this… this is not my body! This is not my body! She bit her lip and shook her head desperately.

She tilted her head back and looked up at the black sky, still pouring rain down. With a steamy white sigh, she gritted her teeth. She then got her feet under her to get up from the ground again as if trying to deny what she had just realised.

She broke down the process into discrete steps, similar to how the Kit Masters used to admonish them on how to get their mechs upright, and actually found that she could get up surprisingly quickly this time.

Once on her feet, she tried to draw her sword with trembling hands, but the sword could not be pulled out of its sheath. She tried to pull it out repeatedly, but only the tiniest part of the blade became visible. It was just a ceremonial sword, made with cheap steel, and poorly maintained over the years. Without regular application of oil, it simply rusted, and the sword became stuck in the scabbard.

Anastasia cursed yet again. No matter what she tried, it was useless. It seemed as though the whole sequence of events was designed specially to drive in the point that she was essentially helpless.

She dropped the sword and knelt down, covering her face with her hands. She had already known her body was weak, but she thought if she could train hard and regain her strength, she would be able to regain some sense of normalcy.

She had been too naive and complacent. She had not thought deeply enough. It was only now, at this moment, that she realised the stark differences between her past body and this one. Avryl was the product of generations of selective breeding to produce the finest warriors, her body capable of split-second reactions and brimming with physical potential. Anastasia was merely a freeborn noblewoman, soft and gentle. Beautiful, yes, but nothing beyond that.

Her combat skills were the result of years of brutal training, but not that of Anastasia, the epitome of a lady brought up only to display the prestige of her House.

Avryl Showers was dead, killed by Pence Lamongue. She would never return to the world of the living. Even though her spirit, her soul was still alive in Anastasia’s body, she was not Avryl anymore.

Death was final. She was a fool to think that she could eventually recover her strength and be a mechwarrior again.

She still had not fully processed her own death. But now, it was clear to her what she had lost – her right to live as Avryl, the honour earned through serving her clan, and even the camaraderie of her closest warriors.

Avryl's memories, not Anastasia's, remained so vividly in her mind. Avryl's fierce life and her feelings of betrayal burn so clearly, yet she was no longer Avryl.

Who was she then? Was she Anastasia, or was she merely Avryl wearing Anastasia's face as a mask?

For the first time in a very long while, she let her tears flow. The rain continued to pour, a chill spreading all over Anastasia's body. Without realising it, she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

 

Rason Estate
24th February, 3061
2300 hrs (1100 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Upon reading the report, Finn frowned. His aide, Eric, saw his lord’s expression change and closed his mouth. This meant that Finn was uncomfortable.

“Unbelievable,” Finn muttered, sitting and leaning on the back of his chair as he looked out his window.

It was raining outside. He felt relaxed, but he tapped his desk with a finger. The impatient ticking sound spread out into the quiet office.

“So, Lady Kalinska has gone crazy?”

“It’s not that she is crazy. She had a breakdown." Eric felt compelled to point out.

“What’s the difference?” he said, sighing.

“Baron Kalinski is trying to keep it quiet, but rumours still tend to leak.”

“Yeah, she was crying in the rain in her nightgown in the wee hours barefoot with a sword out in the garden. Anybody would think that she had finally gone crazy.”

At this point, Eric thought Finn would express his anger about his engagement to Anastasia Kalinska. Being engaged to a madwoman would make him a huge laughing stock despite being the Viscount of Delacambre.

Instead, Finn grumbled, “How is Baron Kalinski managing his servants? They didn’t even know their sick mistress went out and now they can't even control their mouths. Unacceptable."

As Eric had expected, Finn was annoyed, but the reason behind his annoyance was surprising. It seemed Finn was angrier at the servants who leaked the information.

“Does she have to go crazy every few days?”

Eric knew Finn was referring to Anastasia Kalinska. He gave his superior a pointed look.

Finn glared back. "What?"

Eric gulped, thought he wasn’t paid enough to do all this, but plunged on. “Uhm, you heard that Lady Kalinska had a breakdown, but are you okay?”

“Do I have to reply to that?"

The Viscount’s green eyes held an ominous light. Eric realised he had made a mistake. However, what he noticed was that Finn first griped about the servants who spread the rumours, then complained about Bason Kalinski’s daughter. The priority and sequence of complaints had changed.

“How is Lady Kalinska?”

This was new. Now, instead of complaining about her, Finn was actually asking about her well-being. Eric concluded Finn was now emotionally invested in the relationship.

“She is suffering from a cold. She was always frail, so it's quite serious....”

“It must have been because she was in the rain. Tsk tsk." Finn clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

The Viscount continued, “How far did the rumours spread that she had a breakdown?”

“It shouldn’t have spread yet. It seems that their servants talked about it amongst themselves while buying groceries. The shop they were at just happened to be one of our intel sources.”

“Block the rumours if you can. Downplay it if you can’t.”

Eric nodded numbly.

Finn's feelings for Anastasia were still vague, but Eric had developed a better sense of his lord’s emotions, so he just nodded his head and proceeded to carry out his orders.

Finn sat at his desk and looked out the window blankly. Anastasia had never been quite sane right from the beginning, but what triggered her most recent bout of insanity? What exactly happened in the Haynes manor?

As far as he knew, Renard had been lying low since his humiliation during the Feast of Bounty banquet. He suspected Renard was just indulging his own vices quietly, but that was all. He didn't meet Anastasia that day.

Finn narrowed his eyes. There was one person he could ask.

[The Wobbly Guy]

Haynes Palatial Manor,
26th February, 3061
0200 hrs (1000 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

“It really wasn’t my fault,” said Raymond with a frown on his face while using a piece of soft tissue to clean his glasses. He shrank a bit under Finn’s harsh glare.

“Even my father asked about what happened. But really, nothing happened! I went to the guest lounge, you know the one with the huge dual mode viewscreen, and there she was, calmly watching some shows while waiting for lunch. Then all of a sudden, she went berserk and tried to smash the viewscreen.”

“…”

Raymond raised the corner of his mouth at Finn’s gaze, as if asking if he would believe it.

“Actually, there was something else, but I don’t want to say anymore because it’s personal to Lady Kalinska and she deserves her personal privacy.”

Finn snorted. “As if. It’s not about personal privacy, but about you holding onto it for later use.”

“I will not deny it,” he said, leaning against the back of the sofa with a lazy expression. Another curse word lingered in Finn’s mouth. He had been close to Raymond due to unavoidable circumstances from childhood, but he did not want to be any closer to him than he had to.

Raymond’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “If I tell you about Lady Kalinska, will you give me what I want?”

“Manipulative bastard.” cursed Finn. At that, Raymond closed his eyes and smiled. His demeanour and bearing seemed that of a meek and gentle nobleman, but Finn knew it was just a facade.

Finn continued, “Even though we are engaged, I don’t have to tell you that we are not close enough to do that for you.”

“Well, you are emotionally invested enough to come and ask me about her like this.”

Seeing Raymond’s cunning gaze, Finn grimaced. Raymond put his glasses back on. His sharp eyes were hidden again. “I thought she was an empty-headed girl that only chased after my brother, but Lady Kalinska was something else.”

“I initially thought so too, but I’ve realised she is not your usual vapid-minded noblewoman.”

“She noticed that I’m a trained mechwarrior.”

“What?” Finn controlled his surprise.

“She said, ‘You are a mechwarrior. Stop acting dumb!’ How the hell did she find out? I mean, I was pretty careful.”

“Hah.” Finn chuckled at that. It was because he could imagine the tone Anastasia used. Anastasia had the strange ability to say or do whatever she wanted, and to heck with the consequences.

“I didn’t deny it. If Lady Kalinska said that to anyone else they would think she’s crazy. But the problem is that she tried to break the viewscreen.”

“…It’s just a viewscreen.”

“The biggest high resolution holoprojector we have in the entire Trivet! My father would have gone nuts.”

“What else can you tell me?”

Raymond looked straight at Finn, and Finn felt as though he was being tested.

“Do Captain Larouche and Lady Kalinska know each other?”

“What?” Finn’s mood darkened further.

“Captain Larouche is Renard’s Ass-wiper, and Lady Kalinska was his lover.”

“Raymond, if you’re trying to piss me off today, you’re doing a very good job of it.”

“Nah, I’m just joking. The two don’t know each other at all. Lady Kalinska didn’t even know Larouche’s nickname. Heh, the one that everybody knows.”

Finn growled. “I really hate Larouche. That backstabbing bastard.”

Raymond’s eyes were alight with curiosity. “You never did tell me how you knew him before he came to Inman. The clan border?”

“Classified.”

“Ahhh…” Raymond nodded and drank his tea. Finn was very annoyed after Raymond mentioned Pence and Anastasia at the same time.

Was her meeting with Count Haynes the reason for her breakdown? But according to Raymond, Anastasia had been fine when he entered the lounge. So, what was the reason? Raymond seemed to know something, but he didn't seem to want to say anything.

Did she really go crazy? He was definitely not going to marry a crazy woman. Or even one prone to bouts of insanity from time to time.

Then Finn realised that he was already thinking deeply about Anastasia. He'd met Anastasia a few times in the past, but they both had no interest in each other. They simply did not mix in the same circles. Finn had never been enamoured of Anastasia's beautiful looks as many men were, and she had never paid him any attention. Her attention and energy were always focused on Renard.

When he recalled that, Finn felt like he had been hit in the head. She had said she was fine after the very public breakup and scandal, but maybe she wasn't? She could have been suffering silently by herself, just not letting it show. Hiding one’s emotions was a key virtue in the aristocracy, so it was possible.

If she kicked Renard in the crotch, it meant that she was really angry. If Anastasia was honest with him, she had just suffered a very serious betrayal.

Finn suddenly remembered his fellow soldiers, who often talked about dying because of love. He never really knew what 'love' was, since he never experienced it himself, but he also knew that this elusive emotion had the potent power to turn anybody insane.

Sure, he didn’t necessarily need to comfort her about her traumatic past, but he also should not have treated the matter so lightly. He knew that Anastasia’s reputation amongst the ladies of the aristocracy was essentially wrecked after the scandal of her attempted suicide.

For the ladies, the social world was their battlefield. Anastasia had zero standing amongst them after what she did.

Even Renard tried to pile on and forced her to attend the banquet after the incident. Finn thought Renard just wanted to mock her, but upon further thought, he realised with a sinking feeling that Renard had wanted something else from Anastasia, which was why he was in the lounge with her. With that dismal thought, Finn felt she should have kicked harder.

He still thought that the reason for Anastasia’s strange behaviour could be due to a broken heart. In the end, Finn concluded that Anastasia had not forgotten Renard, even though he wanted to believe Anastasia because, at that time, Anastasia's facial expression didn't seem like that was the case.

However, that was the only explanation he could think of. He felt rotten and conflicted.

“Damn rain,” Finn muttered while gritting his teeth.

Raymond asked, “Shouldn’t you go to Lady Kalinska?”

“How many times do I have to say we are not that close?” Finn retorted angrily.

He stared out the window, glumly contemplating his options. He couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the whole situation. He even felt a bit exasperated with himself for being annoyed in the first place. Why should he care?

Maybe just a phone call would do? But doing so lacked sincerity.

His thoughts chased themselves all over in his mind, until Finn gave into the inevitable. He got up from his seat, and told Raymond, “I’ll take my leave now.”

Raymond smugly replied, “All right, travel safe. Give my regards to Lady Kalinska.”

 
Kalinski Estate,
26th February, 3061
0500 hrs (1300 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurry and she was already breathing hard. I cannot even roll my eyes, she thought. She looked around and saw her father next to her. Seeing the worry and sorrow on his face, she slowly blinked.

She was having a fever. As Avryl, she rarely fell sick, usually only after extremely strenuous outfield exercises that literally flattened every cadet kit in the sibko after their adrenaline and energy ran out. Also, the only reason she ever was in bed was to sleep. But ever since she became Anastasia, she spent an inordinate amount of time in her bed.

She was still very weak, and fell sick easily. If she was not careful and went out into the rain like the other night, she should have expected the consequences. Anastasia sighed, realising again that she could not afford to be so reckless with her health.

There was also a double whammy from her menstruation, which was apparently always somewhat irregular, but now coincided with her illness. The blood loss and cramps made her even more uncomfortable. As a clan warrior, Avryl had never needed to deal with it; the drugs provided by the clan’s scientists essentially shut down the cycle, since menstruation was obviously detrimental to their duties as warriors.

When she stirred from her sleep, Baron Kalinski raised his head and looked at her. She felt a pang of guilt when she looked into his tired eyes.

"Ana." His voice was mournful, and sounded hoarse after hours of crying.

Anastasia blinked her eyes.

He was still in tears. “Is it too hard to continue living? What are the problems you’re facing?”

Seeing his distraught expression, Anastasia sighed internally.

“I’m not asking for much. I just want you to live a healthy, happy life. Why is it so difficult?"

Anastasia scoffed. She was neither healthy nor happy. How could she even think of living happily? Now that Avryl was dead, was it happiness for her to just adapt to being Anastasia and live happily ever after? Just like that? Then what was the point if everything that once was Avryl was to be forgotten and cast behind?

Her heart ached, her hatred boiling, her sorrow overflowing. Her mind was in turmoil, grappling with a life that was unjustly taken away. She was getting sick of everything.

“Don’t worry, Daddy will do everything for you. If you are suffering, I will relieve you of that suffering.”

The Baron’s words did not really register with her.

She knew she should be grateful, that she had, somehow, been given a second chance at life. But the despair from the death of her first one, that was something she could not let go.

It was ironic. As a clan warrior, Avryl was not supposed to be afraid of death, but now that she did die once before, she could not be so sanguine about it. She really wanted to live, not die of some fever that she brought upon herself by being so careless with her health.

In her sleep, she dreamed of Anastasia, and her memories.

She saw how lonely Anastasia was when she was young. On the day of her mother's death, Baron Kalinski abandoned Anastasia in his grief. He had cried, saying he would follow her mother. No one was around to comfort Anastasia.

The Baron literally tried to follow his wife into death. He took poison and attempted suicide. It was Anastasia who found her unconscious father on the floor.

Baron Kalinski’s suicide attempt was not successful, and he survived. He woke up to find a mentally scarred Anastasia. He hugged her and wept, promising never to give up on his life again. From then on he tried to always show Anastasia the best of his love as her father.

But Anastasia knew that his devotion was only out of guilt. Already the Baron had abandoned her when her mother died. He would be someone who could abandon her again at any crisis, leaving her all alone. The Baron probably did not know how much the love he tried to give made Anastasia more miserable. Anastasia did not have faith even in her own father. That was a major cause of Anastasia’s problems and personality issues.

Despite her attempts to ignore them, the memories of Anastasia appeared repeatedly. As if her mind was telling her to forget Avryl. Therefore, Anastasia tried to keep herself awake in any way possible for her health and to prevent Avryl's memory from being engulfed by Anastasia's memories.

But she continued to suffer. Why were these memories flooding in? Why did she keep having memories that did not belong to Avryl?

Eventually, she began to get confused as her memories replayed. Am I Avryl? Or am I Anastasia with Avryl's memories? Am I even Avryl, when I have Anastasia's body and Anastasia's memories?

It was a question that she had never not considered before. Previously, she just thought, of course, that she was Avryl. Her body had changed, her environment had changed, but she had no one to recognize her existence as Avryl, so how could she think of herself as Avryl?

After three standard days, her fever had gone down to a point where it would not jeopardise her life.

Then the Baron began to enter the Haynes manor again. Anastasia felt downcast when the Baron was not with her every time she woke up, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it.

In Anastasia’s memories, the Baron was always busy with work. Loving his daughter and the importance of work were two separate acts for him.

After meekly following his instructions to take medicine and eat, she regained enough energy to get up and move around. However, her weak body was slow to recover. Her fever didn't seem to recede, and Anastasia remained dazed at all times. Her lack of energy and the inability to do anything placed her in a foul mood.

“My lady, he is here! You have to get ready.”

"Who?"

“Viscount Rason.”

So what? Why do I need to prepare? Anastasia thought blankly.
--------------------------------
The fiction itself states that on certain very developed worlds (e.g. Terra), women can remain fertile up to fifty or sixty years old, which means the technology exists to either shut down the cycle, thus preserving the ova, or to actually regenerate ova in the ovaries.

On worlds like Terra, I believe it would be the latter (remain fertile throughout puberty to ‘middle age’ of fifty/sixty), while for the clans, it would be the former, through an implant that injects the drug at regular intervals.

It just makes sense on many levels. The female warriors don’t have to worry about their periods (cramps, blood loss), and their ova are conserved if they test down and re-enter the civilian castes, in which case they would have to start contributing to the birth rate, usually at solahma ages of maybe thirty plus? As any fertility expert can tell you, normally the depletion of ova is such that after the age of thirty, the chances of conception are drastically lowered. The clan method would prevent this problem.

[Sir Chaos]

So, to-do list for Avryl/Anastasia:
- Kill Pence, as slowly and painfully as practical under the circumstances
- Get back into fighting shape as a mechwarrior and procure a mech
- Tell Finn who she really is, get him into that Circle of Equals as promised, and kick his ass (preferably in a non-lethal manner, because honorable enemies are a rare commodity)
- Either live happily ever after, or die gloriously, depending on the mood of the day

[The Wobbly Guy]

Kalinski Estate,
26th February, 3061
0600 hrs (1400 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

“Send him back.” Anastasia spoke without thinking.

The maid replied, “My lady, you said he could come.”

Anastasia tilted her head, considering. She did say that, but given the circumstances…

“Should I send him back?” Unlike other maids, Luisa bravely asked her for confirmation.

Anastasia pondered for a moment, then shook her head. She did not know why. It was just strange, that she wanted to see Finn. Maybe because he was one of the memories of good times from her past life. Also weird, because they spent much of that time trying to defeat each other.

Her dishevelled hair was quickly arranged, and a thick outer garment woven with warm wool was applied on top of the negligee. Anastasia was still slightly hazy about what was happening because she still had some fever.

“Do I go down?”

When asked if she should go down to her private suite for receiving guests, Luisa shook her head.

“The Viscount should come up to your room. You’re so sick!”

“Okay.” Anastasia agreed readily. It was really difficult for her to think straight.

When the maids finished their final makeover, Anastasia looked out of the window next to her in a dazed state.

The sky was grey, and all the scenery was hazy, perhaps foggy. Anastasia was lost in thought.

Where was Avryl now? Dead, or alive in Anastasia’s body? It was a question on her mind ever since she saw Pence again. After so many days, she still had no answer.

Then she heard footsteps in the direction of her room, and the door opened. Nevertheless, she kept her gaze fixed towards the window.

“Leave us.”

A familiar man’s voice echoed quietly in the room. Luisa seemed to greet him, and then went outside and closed the door.

The silence in the room seemed oppressive. Then more footsteps, nearing, and stopped next to her bed. Then there was silence again.

A man’s voice was heard with a very small sigh.

“Do you have to go crazy every few days?”

“……” Anastasia turned her head. Her eyes rested on his uniform coat.

He was dressed in the deep green uniform coat of the AFFC with silver cuffs and red piping indicating both his status as an officer and his branch of service. Strangely enough, he wore no decorations on his left, save only for the rank epaulettes of a Leftenant-Colonel. Like most mechwarriors who graduated from an academy of the old Federated Suns, he wore the traditional cavalry spurs on his boots.

“That’s the AFFC uniform, isn’t it?”

“What?”

Finn looked at Anastasia puzzledly. Finn was starting to conclude that Anastasia must be sick and out of her mind.

“Yes, it’s the AFFC uniform. I’m the commander of the local Trivet militia, I’m supposed to wear it.”

“Then where are your decorations?” She placed a hand on his left chest. “Didn’t you kill a lot of enemies to earn them?”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. Whatever he was expecting in a conversation with her, this was certainly not it. Green eyes scanned her face with a helpless expression.

“My lady, you must be really sick.”

Anastasia smirked at his words. It was a gloomy smile that was completely different from the dazzling one he saw at the banquet. Finn couldn’t understand this woman at all.

Anastasia looked up at Finn, since he was still standing. Strangely, his uniform did not repulse her. After all, she also wore a uniform, that of the Smoke Jaguars, until her death.

“What did you do today?”

“What?”

“Did you log time in your mech?”

He frowned at her strange familiarity with mechwarrior lingo. “Yes, a few hours just before and after daybreak, in fact.”

“Even when it rains, you are diligent.”

“As a mechwarrior, I have to be.”

Seeing Finn’s expression, Anastasia unknowingly bit her lips tightly. It was something that made her cry.

On the day she accepted Avryl’s death, Anastasia realised that she had no way to avenge herself on Pence. The skills that she had as Avryl, she had lost them after becoming Anastasia. Being a mechwarrior, in the weak body she was in? Impossible. And to even take on Pence outside of a mech? Even more impossible.

“You are a Viscount, so you must have great power here, not just on the battlefield, right?”

“……”

Finn’s frown deepened. Her once-glittering eyes looked somewhat hazy. Anastasia looked at him with an aimless stare.

Meanwhile, Anastasia was thinking. Yes, it was impossible for ‘Anastasia’ to kill Pence. What kind of power did a Baron’s young daughter have to kill an enfeoffed knight and the commander of the Haynes household guards? If she were a man, she could at least have some physical strength, but Anastasia was a weak noblewoman who could barely do anything.

Anastasia took her eyes off Finn and looked at her hand.

White, fine, and beautifully trimmed hands. It was a hand that contrasted so much with Avryl’s hands, which were full of scars and calluses from years of practising combat in all its forms.

“I’m really not following the flow of this conversation.”

Anastasia turned to look at Finn. Her expression was blank and she barely spoke.

“I’m just saying… that you are a fine man.”

He was dressed in a well-fitted dress uniform and had the build to accentuate its features. He was a Viscount of the Federated Commonwealth, or Suns, or whatever, so he had some level of political power even beyond the Trivet.

Within the Trivet itself, he had enormous power. He was also, she grudgingly admitted, a decent mechwarrior, and he had fought in actual battle, not just talked about it. He also exuded a refined masculinity that sent ladies swooning. And she knew, at least from glances around the banquet hall during the Feast of Bounty celebrations, that many noblewomen did just that.

He had everything, wealth, power, honour, health, even his own landholding.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re also powerful.”

She envied him for what he possessed. When she saw Finn, who had everything she needed to take her vengeance, she was filled with jealousy.

“What are you talking about?”

She could never be like Finn. But if she wanted to get revenge on Khalid, what could, what would she do for it?

“Lady Kalinska?”

She shuffled to get out of her bed, struggling to get her body up with her arms. Her arms trembled so much that she was starting to sweat. A suffocating breath came out of her mouth.

“My lady.”

Finn helped her up. As he did so, their faces got closer.

Finn’s green eyes and her eyes met. At that moment, Anastasia stopped moving.

Her mind raced. After all, if I became his, I would be able to seduce this man and make him do what I want, right? I can use this man’s power. Women are like that in the Inner Sphere, that is just how it is.

Besides, she was the most beautiful lady in the Trivet, and hence the most valuable, as shallow as that line of thinking was. It would be easy for her to win the heart of this man. Then, she would belong to him and his power would also be hers? There was one thing beautiful women are good at… Yes, she can seduce this man.

What was that term used in one of those holovids? Femme fatale.

His hand was firmly on Anastasia’s back. Anastasia reached out, supporting herself in his arms. Her stretched hand slowly swept down his hard face.

“You…”

Heedless of what Finn was going to say, Anastasia reached out and put her arm around his neck and pulled him down to reach his face. Then she kissed him without hesitation.

It seemed as though a soft sound rang in both their ears at that moment.

She drew back. “You don’t like it?”

Finn seemed speechless at the question.

Her eyes, white face, and cheeks, which had a strange light, had a lovely flush. And there was an enticing curve on her blood-red lips, an obvious temptation when contrasted against her long loose black hair and white skin.

Finn stared blankly at the dizzying sight in front of him for a moment. He quickly raised one corner of his mouth at that short and simple provocation.

“Well, how about it?”

He pulled Anastasia’s waist and stuck her close to his body. Then their lips touched.

Although she started it, he took over the lead. Unfamiliar with the act of kissing, she could only follow awkwardly. Finn pressed his hand to her cheek and licked Anastasia’s lips open. In an instant, his tongue came in and brushed her even teeth.

“Ugh!”

The arm wrapped around his neck tightened, but Finn’s hand rubbed Anastasia’s back as if reassuringly. At that, she shut her eyes tightly. The black eyelashes trembled.

His hand, which had been on her cheek, moved behind her ear, stroking her head, and then went down to her neck and chest. Anastasia flinched, her eyes trembling, and finally tried to push him away.

Finn opened his eyes. For a moment, something brushed against his green eyes as he separated from Anastasia.

Anastasia breathed heavily, disturbed by the afterglow of their fierce kiss. Finn found himself a bit winded from the unexpected intensity.

A strange heat settled in the room.

Finn stared at Anastasia’s face for a long time with an incredulous expression, realisation dawning on him. Then he reached out a hand to tidy up his messy hair, and adjusted his uniform coat.

His face stiffened into a cold angry mask. He did not attempt to make any more conversation. The eruption of heat in the room cooled down just as quickly.

Anastasia stiffened with a surprised expression with her hand to her lips. Finn looked at her and frowned slightly. Then he turned around and left the room.

He did not turn around to see her hold her head in her hands in utter shame and regret.

The rain continued unabated.


26th February, 3061
1500 hrs (2300 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

“What happened?” asked Baron Kalinski as he hurried down the corridor to Anastasia’s room. “I thought Ana was doing better!”

“She was! But after the Viscount’s visit, the fever bounced back,” said Luisa frantically, her eyes tearing up with concern for her mistress as she tried to keep up with the Baron.

“Ana!” He burst through the doors of her room, not caring for decorum. His heart sank when he saw his poor daughter lying on her bed, obviously still very sick. Yet she still tried to get up.

“Father, you’re here…”

“No, just lie down. You don’t have to push yourself.”

She fell back on her pillows, her breath coming in short pants.

He looked at her, his heart breaking at her condition.

“I can’t believe your health has deteriorated so much.” He made a decision. She won’t like it, but he felt he had not many options left. “How about going back to Altoona to rest and recover there? You’ll feel much better if you rest away from Inman.”

That provoked a strong reaction. She pushed herself from her sleeping position, and protested. “Why should I? I can recover just fine here! I don’t want to go anywhere else!”

He sighed quietly, “The thing is, there are some nasty rumours about you being spread here. They say you’ve gone insane.”

She stared at him in dawning realisation. I know I brought it upon myself with my own actions, but I cannot help but feel maligned!

“Father, do you also think I am insane? Is that why you want to send me away, so that I won’t be a burden?”

His silence told her all she needed to know. Poor Anastasia, you were given a lot of love, but not a lot of trust, it seems.

“Ana, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t really want to know.” She was tired of his excuses. Her voice was cold and sharp. The original Anastasia always acted the perfect lady, with a bright smile pasted on her face. Even when angry, she would vent it on others, never her own father. Maybe that was why he had gotten away with his half-hearted attitude for so long.

Baron Kalinski loved Anastasia, but only with his words, not his actions.

And actions always speak louder than words.

Where was he when the original Anastasia jumped into the manor lake? Where was he during the Feast of Bounty banquet, where he left her to the mercy of the wolves-in-ladies clothing? Even when she almost died in the lake, he had not taken any action at all against Baron Haynes.

Was this what a loving father would have done?

She resolved she would not repeat Anastasia’s mistakes.

He took her fragile hands in his own, patting them gently. “I will explain everything later.”

It sounded like a promise made to a gullible child, but she had no energy left to argue anyway. Besides, he was not entirely wrong. If she stayed on Inman, she might end up doing even crazier things.

“All right, I will go to Altoona.” Anastasia nodded in numb acceptance.


Rason Estate,
1st March, 3061
1500 hrs (1100 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)

Despite what the various admiring ladies of the Trivet thought, Finn Rason wasn’t a paragon of virtue. At least, that’s Eric’s opinion.

Since entering the Viscount’s service as his personal secretary and valet, Eric had learned how to work around his master’s moods, achieving a sort of equanimity on how to advise and support his master on a variety of issues. He prided himself on having a broad outlook, despite not having attended a formal institution of higher education. Still, as the second son of a knight on Delacambre, he did have some private tutoring, and that had been enough for the Viscount to hire him in the first place after the Viscount was discharged from the AFFC.

In the short span of a few months, Eric quickly learned to accommodate his boss’s sometimes prickly attitude, and to find excuses when acting as the middleman between Viscount Rason and other notables.

But the Viscount was in a mood Eric had never seen before, and had been for the past three days. Everything seemed to set Finn off, from the weather to even the way the servants adjusted the paintings on the walls of the estate building.

Eric sighed. He had thought of quitting, but there weren’t that many prospects for a mere second son of a landholding knight in the Trivet. He had a plan - work for Viscount Finn for a few years, save up enough money, then seek a similar but better position on one of the more developed worlds.

“I have received a message from the Kolis Engine Consortium. Came in with the jumpship today.”

“What’s their business?”

The Viscount sat at his desk, reading reports and making notes. After three days, he was still as prickly as ever.

“They’re asking for funds to develop fission engines.”

“Are we a charity? Tell them no.”

“What do you mean…”

Eric knew engines were important. It was impossible to wage modern war without them. Even the humble internal combustion engine was still used in many combat vehicles. Fission engines were a major step up in the manufacturing capabilities of Delacambre, and a milestone towards achieving fusion engine production.

The Viscount was too hasty in his judgement and letting his emotions guide his decisions. Eric opened his mouth to protest.

Then his green eyes glared at Eric, as if he knew what he was thinking. Eric flinched.

“You think my decision is emotional and unreasonable right? Fission engines are too heavy because of their shielding to prevent radioactive leakage, and god forbids if one of them loses containment! Their maintenance is also a pain, and in short I’d avoid them unless absolutely necessary. If you really think I’m wrong, you can invest your own money.”

Eric looked down. “No, sir.”

“In the future, think about what reports are important before raising them to my attention. Is your head merely a flowerpot for growing hair?”

Eric squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he should really just quit and find some other job? He didn’t have a family to take responsibility for, and he couldn’t even get married because he was too busy to go on dates, cleaning up after his boss.

Next, it was a report about some militia soldiers who were arrested for being drunk and causing a disturbance in public.

The Viscount’s foul mood struck again. This time he imposed a brutal punishment of hard labour for a week, which was far harsher than the usual extra guard duty.

In addition, when the umpteenth letter from Lady Yance, who was trying to pursue the Viscount despite his complete lack of interest in her, arrived, the Viscount just tossed it into the fireplace, saying that it was a waste of ink and time to write a letter.

The young lady’s flame-like love became a real flame in the fireplace and disappeared.

Even so, she was Baron Hoppe's daughter, and he wanted to say something because the Baron was the Minister of Finance, but he knew he didn’t want to become burned along with the letter and so kept his mouth shut.

Nope, he wasn't going to get burned, no sirree!

The next tribulation was morning tea.

Somehow, Viscount Rason drank the hot tea down in a single gulp, yet he did not flinch in the least. Eric knew he wasn’t unscathed though, because his mood worsened. It was the Viscount’s own fault for not listening when the maid told him the tea was hot and to drink it with caution.

Then finally the Viscount looked out the window and shouted.

“Damn rain!”

He was annoyed that it was raining now?

“Damn it, it’s raining heavily!”

So… he was annoyed when the weather was clear, and he was annoyed when it rained. Eric sighed, crying internally. He really felt like leaving the Viscount’s office for the comfort of his own bachelor’s pad, but he had a job to do, no matter how shitty the job was.

Eric could guess why the Viscount was in one of his moods. It was after visiting Anastasia Kalinska.

As soon as he went, he came back almost immediately, and on top of that he was in one of the foulest moods Eric had ever seen him in.

What in Blake’s name happened to the crazy young lady? On the first day after going there, the Viscount seethed quietly. On the second day, everything irritated him, and on the third day, he was like a ticking time bomb liable to blow up at any moment.

Eric paused in his thoughts… Don’t tell me, the Viscount had fallen for Anastasia Kalinska?

The Kalinski family was considered high ranking enough to serve as a suitable match for the Viscount, but things would be different if Lady Anastasia was as crazy as the rumours said. She was still sick from what information he was able to obtain, so what the hell happened? Besides, what was so attractive about her?

“What is so attractive about her?”

“Yes, yes?!” Eric almost fainted at the words that seemed to have dug out of his head. Had the Viscount suddenly mastered mind-reading? He really thought his heart was popping out.

Long live Viscount Rason. Long live and prosper! He quickly enumerated the merits of his master in his head. He did not dare to think that the Viscount was a prickly bastard. He also tried hard to think of his own poor circumstances and how a healthy infusion of funds could do wonders for his welfare…

“It is nothing.”

Finn murmured gloomily, obviously unaware of the nonsense percolating through Eric’s mind.

“I’m going crazy.”

“What?”

“For someone who is insane…”

Eric decided not to jump to conclusions because he had not yet obtained any definite information. But he was almost sure it was related to Anastasia.

So since they were already somewhat on the issue of Lady Anastasia, Eric decided that he would make a report that he didn’t deliver when the Viscount made a fuss with his tea during tea time, simply out of concern for his own skin. He judged the timing was now right, as the Viscount seemed to have mellowed just a tad since scalding his tongue with the tea.

“My lord.”

The Viscount looked at him indifferently.

“Latest report came in on Baron Kalinski’s daughter.”

“What? Why is her name on a report?”

When Eric saw him leaning towards him and showing such immediate concern, Eric felt his conjectures were almost right.

“Baron Kalinski is sending her back to Altoona.”

Finn frowned. He thought for a long time, before asking, “Why?”

Eric had been ready with a response. “Well, the rumours…..”

“I ordered you to block or downplay them.”

“You know it’s not that easy to stop. It’s already spread to some extent. Rumours were already spreading about the last time she jumped into the manor lake, what happened in the guest room, and what happened in her estate. All these led to a new rumour.”

“So, what exactly is this new rumour?”

Eric said carefully, “They’re saying Lady Kalinska is mentally ill.”

Finn gestured for Eric to continue.

“Inman is complicated. Too many intrigues going on. Baron Kalinski probably realised that and decided she would be better off away from here.”

“Right.” Yes, his boss agreed with him!

Finn looked quietly out the window for long moments, watching the raindrops falling from the sky.

“Eric.”

After a while, Finn talked again.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Baron Haynes that attractive?”

“Yes?”

Finn had a serious expression on his face. Eric wondered what kind of bullshit his boss was on about this time.

“Is he more attractive than me?”

Could madness be contagious? Eric prayed hard that whatever afflicted Lady Kalinska would not infect his boss. He hesitated about what to say and came up with a deflective answer.

“There are many young lady with their eyes on Baron Haynes.”

“Then what about me?”

“The same goes for you.” Well, all these were common knowledge.

“Is Baron Haynes more popular than me?”

“Well, he hasn’t been betrothed yet. Every young lady dreams of becoming the future Countess.”

That said, Baron Haynes was still more popular than Viscount Rason. Baron Haynes had an impeccable PR service on his side to hide all his flaws, so it was easy for him to be popular with women.

“But my lord has spent years away from the Trivet, fighting for the Federated Commonwealth. It’s not exactly a fair comparison.”

Finn nodded, then asked, “Is the Countess such a coveted position?”

“Isn’t it the highest position a woman can have in the Trivet?”

Finn frowned. “Then, is Baron Haynes charming?”

At Finn’s words, Eric pretended to vomit. “I’m a citizen of the Trivet, but I can’t say anything nice about Baron Haynes. Even when I was a teenager, I’ve heard about his conduct and relationships with women, so a definite no there.” Renard Haynes might have very good PR staff, but the clues about his true shitty personality were all out there for anybody to just piece together, especially those in the aristocracy.

Then Eric’s face turned white. He feared Finn’s next question would be, “Am I charming?”

How in Blake’s Blood was he to answer this question? He didn’t feel like lying, that would have been too much for his conscience. Finn was a military man, blunt and direct. He focused his energies on staying sharp and the administration of his demesne, not on affairs with women.

In a way, that made him better than Baron Haynes, but it was not really a ringing endorsement of his ‘charms’! Eric agonised over how to end the conversation? Maybe it was a mistake to talk about Lady Kalinska? He knew a grievous mistake here could result with his neck on the chopping black, so he kept quiet and waited for Finn to make the next move.

Finn was muttering quietly to himself, but Eric feared to even listen to what he was saying. He did make out a few words and phrases here and there, as though the Viscount was grappling with something difficult to understand.

“Hey Eric.” The Viscount’s face looked entirely too serious. “What if a person gives you a hundred kroner when he is sick?”

His reply was firm and immediate. “I won’t take it.”

“That’s a hundred kroner, Eric. Taking it, no big deal right?”

Eric shook his head vehemently. “How could a sick person even make a proper and logical decision? Do you take stuff just because somebody wants to give it to you? You don’t even know where that money came from. If there is such a person, he should doubt his humanity. If somebody says it’s okay and takes it, then that person is trash. Trash!”

This time the explanation was so easy that Eric could answer without thinking too much. He might not be very educated, but it was what any decent person would think.

“Damn it…” Finn banged his head on his desk.

Eric thought that somehow the Viscount sounded very hurt. As if he were saying to himself ‘I’m trash’. But he was afraid to find out further, so he just kept his peace while his boss mentally flagellated himself.

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Next chapter ends Act I.

[Cavgunner]

Really enjoying this.