Ryosuke Umikaze, ever the optimist, scoffs.

‘Aw, come on, it’s not that bad.’

You hold up your tablet.

He winces. ‘Ouch.’

>‘Oh, my family’s going to love this. Their son, an engineer.’ (House Scion)
>‘Maybe you’re right. I guess I just wanted something that didn’t … pigeon-hole me.’ (Colony Fleet)
>‘Well, on the bright side, I can always go back to the farm with some qualifications.’ (Rhysode Local)
>‘It’s a career, just … well, everything looks nicer from the bottom.’ (Conscripted Orphan)
>‘You know, I don’t mind not being in the line of fire, but this is a dead end if there ever was one.’ (Aspiring Scholar)
>‘I can’t blame them, though … with me being from the Republic and all.’ (Republic Immigrant)

>>3419580
>‘You know, I don’t mind not being in the line of fire, but this is a dead end if there ever was one.’ (Aspiring Scholar)

>>3419580
>>‘You know, I don’t mind not being in the line of fire, but this is a dead end if there ever was one.’ (Aspiring Scholar)

>>3419580
>>‘Oh, my family’s going to love this. Their son, an engineer.’ (House Scion)
fun times as house Scion with politics and Space Jewing

>>3419580
>‘Oh, my family’s going to love this. Their son, an engineer.’ (House Scion)

>>3419580
>>‘You know, I don’t mind not being in the line of fire, but this is a dead end if there ever was one.’ (Aspiring Scholar)

>>3419580
>>‘Oh, my family’s going to love this. Their son, an engineer.’ (House Scion)

>>3419582
>>3419585
>>3419595
Scholar

>>3419589
>>3419591
>>3419612
Scion

Tiebreakers will have to come with either vote or I flip a coin. Personally, I wanted Conscripted Orphan, but eh.

>>3419580
>‘Oh, my family’s going to love this. Their son, an engineer.’ (House Scion)

>>3419580
>>‘It’s a career, just … well, everything looks nicer from the bottom.’ (Conscripted Orphan)

>>3419579
Goddamn you for restarting this right when I have to go to bed.

>>3419580
>>3419664
Forgot to vote, I know it won't win, but
>>‘It’s a career, just … well, everything looks nicer from the bottom.’ (Conscripted Orphan)

File: Ryosuke.jpg (140 KB, 850x1133)

140 KB JPG

GAINED: +2 Speech Resolution
GAINED: +1 Command Resolution
GAINED: +1 Knowledge
PENALTY: -1 Physical Resolution

GAINED: Honeyed Words
GAINED: Lap of Luxury
GAINED: Education of a Gentleman

‘My family’s just going to love this,’ you sigh, putting the tablet away. ‘Their son: an engineer.’

A chuckle escapes your friends mouth as he places a hand on your shoulder. Nothing really seemed to effect Ryosuke, your station as a semi-exiled scion least of all. You’d led a sheltered life, being a scion of Trade House Mishima, mostly languishing on a reserved Paradise World or zooming around in a luxury craft while visiting Trade Worlds left and right. You hadn’t had many friends prior to your arrival on Rhysode. The closest things that you could remember having were two play-dates with the children of other Houses and one very fortuitous meeting with an Imperial Princess. Connections were sparse, mostly detailed by ink to paper or a data slate with a prompt. In your lack of exposure, your world’s view of sixteen standard Imperial years being nothing more than a browse prompt and a viewport, two of your uncles and your father had deemed you … in a word, unworthy of inheritance and found wanting in every aspect expect but physical mass.

Thankfully, your years in Rhysode had addressed all of those just fine.

You just didn’t think the first lesson to learn was that all the money in the universe wasn’t going to stop a bullet or a knuckle to your jaw if you didn’t watch your mouth.

Ryosuke had taught you that much, if nothing else.

‘Hey, everyone starts from the bottom,’ he asserted … before pausing. ‘Well, not you specifically, but you know what I mean. Besides, it’s not like you were gonna get picked ahead of Maldante and Reinweld, anyway.’

You run a hand through your hair.

If there were ever beings created for the right purpose of humbling you a thousand times over, it would’ve been those two. Emilio Reinweld and Lucion Maldante, the top two aces of Rhysode’s Academy. Not that you even sniffed the upper echelons of the pack, of course, but seeing someone be at the top of the heap that wasn’t you from the day you’d been stamped as a cadet?

Humbling was definitely the word for it.

You felt inappropriate even being around those two. Reinweld, especially.

‘And it’s not like that you don’t qualify as a pilot, anyway,’ Ryosuke encourages you, grinning brightly. ‘A few years, maybe a little more shoulder bumping … and who knows? Maybe you might even qualify as a Scout.’

‘Coming from you, that’s strangely comforting.’

His grin widens. ‘Nah, I’m just being nice to you because I know you’ll buy me something nice as thanks.’

You throw up your middle finger.

‘That’s a low-born move if I ever saw one!’ he cackles.

>‘Why do you always have to remind me that I said that?’ (Regret)
>‘Yeah, well, you should be flattered I picked a thing or two up from you.’ (Neutral)
>‘Please.’ (Dismissive)
>‘So we’re heading to the city now or what?’ (To the point)
>Write-In

>>3419690
>>‘Why do you always have to remind me that I said that?’ (Regret)

>>3419690
>‘Why do you always have to remind me that I said that?’ (Regret)

>>3419691
>>‘Why do you always have to remind me that I said that?’ (Regret)

>>3419691
>>‘Why do you always have to remind me that I said that?’ (Regret)

>>3419690
>>‘Why do you always have to remind me that I said that?’ (Regret)

File: For Ants.jpg (10 KB, 160x163)

10 KB JPG

You groan, covering your face with your hand.

Five years. It had been five years.

‘Why do you always have to remind me that I said that?’ you sigh, staring straight at your friend.

‘Because you said it, duh.’

You didn’t like the reminder.

Neither could you fault Ryosuke—and by extension, the other members of your so-called fraternity—of doing so. There were many things that you’d grown to regret in your time as a cadet … but not many more than your infamous tantrum after a particularly harsh (by your standards then) bout of hazing by the third-years on your person. You didn’t make things easier to the lead up, either. You didn’t need a recording or a video to tell you that you’d been immature, pompous and prejudiced in one breath. You knew this. You know this. Jumping on a table, covered in refuse and pointing fingers and threatening all sorts of abuse by your right as a member of a Trade House …

It was a miracle that you managed to make friends at all.

‘I know,’ you concede, looking away. ‘I know.’

A running joke, but one that didn’t sting any less … especially with just who you’d directed that vitriol towards. If having friends in the aftermath of that mess was a miracle, that you were been forgiven by the offended party was a mathematical impossibility that became a sensible, balanced equation.

‘So, you wanna head out now?’

You look up.

>‘Let me just make sure I didn’t leave anything behind.’ (Inspect room)
>‘Yeah, might as well.’ (Leave now)
>‘A little early, isn’t it?’ (Inquire)
>Write-In

>>3419713
>‘Let me just make sure I didn’t leave anything behind.’ (Inspect room)
Need to grab our wallet.

>>3419713
>>‘Let me just make sure I didn’t leave anything behind.’ (Inspect room)

>>3419713
>>‘Let me just make sure I didn’t leave anything behind.’ (Inspect room)

>>3419713
>>‘Let me just make sure I didn’t leave anything behind.’ (Inspect room)

>>3419713
>>‘Let me just make sure I didn’t leave anything behind.’ (Inspect room)

Make sure our porn (if any) is hidden away

You didn’t have to leave now, but you, Ryosuke and the rest, with your duties to The Aegis, there was no telling when you’d ever see each other again, if at all. The galaxy was vast and you didn’t know where your duties would take you, logistics crew engineer or otherwise. The next several hours could very well be the last you’d see of your friends. You wanted your moments to count; wallowing in your misery was something you could do once you were off-world or ticking boxes on supplies somewhere on Vagabond’s Straightaway or whatever conflict zone you were deemed worthy of.

For someone who didn’t have any friends for sixteen standard years of his life … the last five wasn’t just something you wanted dismissed as mere luxury.

‘Let me just make sure I didn’t leave anything behind,’ you reply, stepping back into your room and picking your bag up before setting it on the table, your tablet shoved into one of the pockets. ‘Okay, did I leave anything …’

Your wallet.

You pull your drawer open and pull out the offending object. Your memory hadn’t failed you this time. None of your instructors had bought the excuses you’d piled up in your time here. You don’t think the Dormitory Managers would be any less forgiving, scion or no.

ACTIVATED: LAP OF LUXURY!
GAINED: 100,000 CROWNS!

Well, that was everything … you think.

>Inspect more of the room (Specify)
>Leave

>>3419742
>>Leave

>>3419742
>Leave

>>3419742
>>Inspect more of the room (Specify)
>Closet
always double check, lord knows i've left shit behind on trips and the object was in the closet

>>3419742
>Inspect more of the room (Specify)
>Closet

>>3419749
>>3419749
make sure nothing embarassing is left like a pack of condoms or something

>>3419759
>Condoms
How unpatriotic. Do you not wish to give the Empire the fruits of your labor, citizen?

>>3419786
depends, is the empire full of big tiddy nee-sans?

>>3419742
>>Inspect more of the room (Specify)
>>Closet

>>3419814
support

>>3419805
If it's anything like the earlier version of this quest, not just big tiddy nee-sans, but kouhais and imoutos too

>>3419579
Is this like some mix of settings?

>>3419742
>Inspect more of the room (Specify)
Closet, under the bed, under/in the mattress and behind the air vent cover.


Pretty sure that where anything else we coulda forgotten could be hidden.

>>3419934
Original setting inspired by the mecha genre. Will use anime picks but also stuff from Battletech and the like.

>>3419910
Needs more space yans though

>>3419579
Holy shit, this started anew! Did you manage to find that notebook, or are you starting over from scratch? Good news either way.

>>3420466
Mech restarted from scratch.

>>3420551
Madman. Respect the dedication tho.

>>3420647
My CoC group is gone. This is all I have that "fits".

I'll be running in about 45 minutes.

File: Action figure.jpg (84 KB, 683x1024)

84 KB JPG

You kneel—

‘Huh.’

You raise your head and an eyebrow, to meet Ryosuke’s oddly quizzical look.

‘What?’

‘Nothin’,’ he replies, raising his hands in a warding gesture. ‘It’s just seeing you on the knees and on the floor is kinda … weird for me.’

You roll your eyes, unwilling to dignify his query with an answer. You had more immediate concerns to address. Like the possibility that you’d left something of yours in some nook or cranny you’d overlooked in your clean-up. A quick visual sweep of the floor tells you that there’s nothing you’d left lying around, and the vacant space under the table says the same. Getting to your feet, you jump on the mattress and give a quick peek through the miniscule gap between your bed and the wall, again finding nothing. You follow up with a glance to the open closets and shelves, seeing nothing to—

‘Oh, almost forgot about that …’

Ryosuke follows your gaze.

You bounce off the mattress and towards the shelf, stretching yourself high and picking up the offending object off its place on the platform, giving it a fond glance from tip of its horn to the regal shield of white and gold strapped to its back.

A gift from one of the few Instructors that you were particularly fond of.

‘Hey, I remember that! That’s Instructor Fisher’s, isn’t it?’

You don’t answer.

‘You guys still dating?’

It almost drops right out of your hand.

>‘No.’ (Adamant)
>‘O-Of course not. As if a woman of that standard could even …’ (Special: Scion, Tsundere)
>‘You know, you need to lay off the theories.’ (Exasperated)
>‘Can’t say I’m not … never mind.’ (Open, Dismissive)
>‘It was just a gift, Ryosuke. She’s a nice lady, but …’ (Exasperated)
>Write-In

>>3421869
>>‘O-Of course not. As if a woman of that standard could even …’ (Special: Scion, Tsundere)
you know i had to do it

>>3421869
>>‘O-Of course not. As if a woman of that standard could even …’ (Special: Scion, Tsundere)
Kek

>>3421869
>‘O-Of course not. As if a woman of that standard could even …’ (Special: Scion, Tsundere)

>>3421869
>>‘O-Of course not. As if a woman of that standard could even …’ (Special: Scion, Tsundere)

>>3421869
>>‘O-Of course not. As if a woman of that standard could even …’ (Special: Scion, Tsundere)

File: Ryosuke2.png (1.27 MB, 1280x959)

1.27 MB PNG

It’s a good thing that you’re quick enough. The Jotun dangles from your thumb, its greatsword hooking into your palm with enough leverage to keep it from meeting a probable demise on the floor. You let out a curse and wrinkle your nose as you look up to your friends smug exterior, standing up to full height with half a mind keen on smacking away such insinuations—unneeded implications of a nature you refuse to even entertain in the deepest or shallowest of thoughts—and a fist ready for a physical communication of the sentiment. You and Instructor Fisher?

‘Of course not,’ you deny vehemently, turning up your nose, model in hand. It was a preposterous idea in the first place; you were a scion of a Trade House and she was a retired veteran-turned-instructor with a playful streak a mile wide and leagues long … and even with that into consideration, she wasn’t really your type. You loved mechs and she loved mechs; she loved telling stories of her days on the battlefield and you loved listening to them whenever you could.

If that wasn’t—isn’t—evidence of incompatibility, you didn’t know what was.

‘As if a woman of that standard could even so much as appeal to me,’ you retort, huffing loudly and stomping your foot to emphasize your point. ‘I have … taste, if you insist I … insist.’

Damn Ryosuke.

All your friends could get you tongue-tied whenever they wished for it to be so. It’s your fault for being so … naive. Perhaps your grandfather should have just brainwashed you into being more pragmatic and with more common-sense. It’s not as if he didn’t have the means to do it.

To your surprise, Ryosuke only shrugs.

‘Eh, sure,’ he replies nonchalantly. ‘Personally, I think she and Maldante would’ve made better-looking babies.’

>Sigh tiredly
>‘Unless Fisher’s got the ability to transform herself into a leather-bound book five inches thick, I won’t count on that.’ (Dry)
>‘I don’t think he’s her type.’ (Jealous)
>‘Whatever, Ryosuke, are we going or not?’ (Dismissive, Rush)
>Write-In

>>3421989
>Write-In
“And what about you. You and all those admirers of yours.” (Pouty/turnabout)

>>3421989
>‘Unless Fisher’s got the ability to transform herself into a leather-bound book five inches thick, I won’t count on that.’ (Dry)

>>3421989
>>‘Unless Fisher’s got the ability to transform herself into a leather-bound book five inches thick, I won’t count on that.’ (Dry)

>>3421989
>>‘I don’t think he’s her type.’ (Jealous)
gotta Tsun hard

>>3422013
Agreed. But, lets follow up with >>3421996 and try to turn the tables on him.


Also, glad to have this quest back Mech.

>>3421989
‘Unless Fisher’s got the ability to transform herself into a leather-bound book five inches thick, I won’t count on that.’ (Dry)

>>3421989
>>‘Unless Fisher’s got the ability to transform herself into a leather-bound book five inches thick, I won’t count on that.’ (Dry)

File: Ready To God.jpg (67 KB, 629x867)

67 KB JPG

‘Unless Fisher’s somehow acquired the ability to transform herself into a leather-bound book five inches thick, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.’

Ryosuke snorts before placing his hands on his waists and giving a nod of concession. Blond, tall and broad-shouldered with a reputation as an ace to go with his good looks, one would think that Lucion Maldante, one of the two golden boys of your generation to be the perfect example of an eligible specimen. He played the part well enough, being more well-spoken than you despite the difference in your upbringing, with a rigid countenance that underlined his focus and somehow having his uniforms more meticulously pressed and done than you could ever manage to do by yourself or, failing that, the hands of hired professionals.

Out of all the people in your graduating class, Maldante was easily the only one that managed to combine all that with a lack of a following from the female persuasion. Oh yes, he definitely played the part. Definitely; you’d repeat that until a star went nova somewhere within a jump distance, but the only female you’d actually see him have an interest in—if it could be called that at all—was with the previously-mentioned Morrigan Fisher. Many of your peers had singled him out as her favourite, of sorts and it wasn’t hard to see why.

Hell, from their interactions, it was harder to pin-point reasons that they wouldn’t be … if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a complete and utter bookworm. Perhaps your uncle could use him as a model for a reading encouragement campaign on one of the Solar Capitals or Industry Worlds. You know that at least a million girls would pick up something to read if they saw him on advert.

Maldante’s love was books. Old-fashioned, leather-bound, thousand year-old hard copies that were probably purchased more for decoration than content. At least a quarter of his collection wasn’t even in Lower Imperial Zeta, instead being of some lost language on some world that was probably lost to time. You’d been to his room thrice in all your years of knowing him, and as his friend—for whatever value that was to the man—and the only thing you’d see lying idly around that wasn’t related to a simulation review or an assignment were ancient scrolls and physical tomes.

As the child of a Trade House, you estimated some of the items in his keep to be worth more than some terrain vehicles. You’d never pried him about his method of acquisition, however.

‘At least he’s easy to shop for,’ Ryosuke states. ‘An expensive one, but … easy.’

‘He likes history and he likes the feel of a tome in his hand,’ you reply, tossing your arm bag over your arm.

Ryosuke glances at your bag.

‘You ready?’

You nod.

>>3422106
>'Wanna have a last look around the old place?' (Browse the Dormitories)
>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)
>Head to the Practice Hangars
>Head to the Academy Plaza
>Head to the Stadium
>Head to the Instructors' Lounge
>Head to the Gardens/Lake
>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles
>Write-In

>>3422109
>>'Wanna have a last look around the old place?' (Browse the Dormitories)

>>3422109
>'Wanna have a last look around the old place?' (Browse the Dormitories)

>>3422109
>>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)

>>3422109
>>'Wanna have a last look around the old place?' (Browse the Dormitories)


Find a spot and vandalise.

>>3422109
>>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)

>>3422109
>>'Wanna have a last look around the old place?' (Browse the Dormitories)

>>3422109
>>'Wanna have a last look around the old place?' (Browse the Dormitories)

>>3422109
>>'Wanna have a last look around the old place?' (Browse the Dormitories)

File: BUDDY.jpg (11 KB, 188x268)

11 KB JPG

You give the metal walls of the fifth level corridor one mighty whack. Even for someone of your upbringing, you found the Aegis’s propensity to combine the practical and the aesthetic into a working, functioning state impressive. You’d seen better, of course. You’d been brought up by better, but that the Aegis had been able to combine the rough outlook of a soldier’s life with a liveable domicile of at least a moderate, homely quality … even you were impressed. Lines and scores of eager fourth years leaping into their fifth with all the privileges are all about, many of them already peeking into vacant rooms, once populated by your peers. Even with a corridor as wide as this, the sheer number of them made it almost claustrophobic to manoeuvre yourself without almost bumping into someone with your bag.

The Dormitory Manager’s absence had allowed for indiscipline to permeate through these halls, but whether you cared for it or not, it would be allowed. You doubt even your parents’ guards could quell the rowdy inclinations of the end of a training year, especially with young adults and teenagers. The bulletin boards were blank, as expected. Every notice had been taken down the night before, what with practically every graduating cadet deciding to indulge in whatever vice Rhysode Alpha could offer them. You’d be heading there soon; you didn’t much think of the prospect of sleeping under the stars without your essentials. Ryosuke probably could, but you … well, you were brought up spoiled.

There were some things that you avoided, as used as you were to them.

‘Whoa, man, those third years sure are filled out, aren’t they?’

He spies a pair of girls that giggled as they ducked past a gaggle of boys who, by appearance, appeared to share the sentiments of your current companion. You roll your eyes as you hook an arm around Ryosuke, dragging him away as the girls come to a halt in front of an open door. To your irritation, however, you find yourself being held back from taking your next step forward, your taller, more defined friend managing to keep you from following through on your desire to finish up your last tour of the old place before you shot for the stars.

To be fair to that statement, however, if there was ever a weakness Ryosuke had, it was his tendency to get sidetracked by a pretty face. You’d borne witness to that more times than you would care to … and by the wet lick of your friends upper lip, it looked like you were about to do so again.

‘Ryosuke,’ you say warningly, throwing him a look.

‘Gimme a sec,’ he replies.

You let out a sigh.

He never learned.

You release your hold on him, as if letting a clawbird loose upon the skies.

File: SPACE GRRRRL.jpg (604 KB, 708x1000)

604 KB JPG

Your presence—at least temporarily—becomes forgotten in his women-chasing wiles as you cross your arms. Perhaps he’d just get laughed into an imploding phenomenon this time. It’d be a cleaner kill—

‘Ex-excuse—’

You turn around, prompted by a desperate, pleading voice.

Not directed at you, no, but from a young blonde that was trying and failing to get the attention of several busy groups too busy admiring the prospect of moving into fifth year dorms and going over the next year’s assignment. She didn’t even look like she belonged, if you were being honest. Clad in a short skirt and a sleeveless top, she looked like she belonged on a mid-level doing some clothes shopping or something similar. Her golden braid swings left and right as she continues the futility of approaching the retreating backs of cadets, as if invisible to the—

You notice a symbol on her arm.

Spacer. She was a Spacer.

You have half a mind to do the same. What would a Spacer be doing here? Trying to strike a deal? Where was her Expedition Crew? You’d dealt with her ilk before; parading around the galaxy like they owned the place, stubborn, headstrong and without a care for protocol. At the same time, however … she looked—and there was no other word for it—lost. As she should be. What would she be doing—

‘Excuse—’

It’s like she doesn’t even exist.

‘Oh!’

The dirty sack that was presumably hers falls on its side, bumped into by one of the cadets. Something that resembles a pipe falls out.

It’s the only time she gets a look.

But only a look.

She meekly gets to her knee, gathering said object.

>Help her
>Ignore her
>Write-In

>>3422159
>>Help her

>>3422159
>Help her

>>3422159
>>Help her

>>3422159
>>Help her

noblesse oblige or something

>>3422159
>>Help her

>>3422159
>>Help her

>> Help her

Let's not be a total douche.....

File: Rosaria 2.png (603 KB, 859x709)

603 KB PNG

Despite your better judgment, you saunter towards the kneeling young woman. You don’t think she even notices you, busy shoving the pipe-like object and whatever it was she’d encountered back into that dirty excuse of a sack. Still … regardless of how you felt about the Colony Fleet and its denizens, she didn’t seem like she was too much of a nuisance, and if the last few years had taught you anything it was that being nice and polite wasn’t something you extended to merely your equals and superiors.

‘You all right?’

The blonde woman raises her head, standing up so quickly she almost bumps into you. She turns her head left and right, as if puzzled … or in anticipation of a prank. There is an uncertainty in her eyes and her motions, and the trail of her gaze has you amusingly guessing if you were a mirage or some kind. Letting out a sigh, she gives a swift nod, lifting her bag off the floor and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. There was definitely a scarcity in elegance there. Her motions are too large and clumsy, which was a bit of a waste, as you found her rather fair despite all indicators to the contrary.

‘Y-Yes,’ she replies, dropping into a deep bow. One that would have knocked you over if you hadn’t taken a step back to avoid her head. ‘I am, thank you.’

That was it, then.

You turn to—

‘A-Actually, no, I was, um … I was wondering if you’d be able to help me.’

There it was.

‘Of course,’ you return, trying to sound as accommodating as you could manage. ‘What is it that you require, Miss …’

‘Rosaria,’ she introduces herself, bowing again … and almost knocking you into a trio of passing fourth-years. ‘Rosaria El Moldavor Spirance, I … I’m new here.’

That much was obvious. Her presence, though, was … something that you couldn’t quite make sense of. You hadn’t seen anyone from the Colony Fleet on Rhysode. The place wasn’t exactly remote, but outside of it being an Aegis-designated planet there wasn’t really anything you think a Colony Fleet would come here to—for lack of better word—barter in. At best, it was the equivalent of a Terraformed Outpost World, a young four-hundred-odd years in age with no Trade House jurisdiction whatsoever … and thus, of no interest to a Colony Fleet unless they were here for a quick stop-by.

Was she sent here to make a deal?

‘Is everything okay?’

You throw out your most disarming smile.

It doesn’t feel like it to you, despite your best efforts. Even she looks quite … apprehensive.

‘No, sorry, I … is there someone you’re looking for? Somewhere you have to be or something? I just noticed that you looked a little … lost.’

Nailed it.

She lets out a sigh of relief. ‘I am,’ she answers. ‘I’m, um … supposed to meet with the Dormitory Manager and, ah … I haven’t been able to find him. Would you, um ...'

>>3422208
>‘Can’t help you there.’ (Leave her be)
>‘Would you mind if I inquire what for?’ (Inquire)
>‘You’re fresh out of luck. They’re not going to be in until at least Monday.’ (State)
>‘Wait, how were you able to get onto this level without a pass from the Dormitory Manager at all?’ (Curious)
>‘Sure, just go to elevator 3-A and go to the fifth floor. His quarters and office should be there.’ (Lie [Speech])
>Write-In

>>3422209
>>‘You’re fresh out of luck. They’re not going to be in until at least Monday.’ (State)
>>‘Wait, how were you able to get onto this level without a pass from the Dormitory Manager at all?’ (Curious)

>>3422211
this

>>3422208
supporting this
>>3422211

>>3422209
>>3422211
Guess I'll join in on the combo request.

>>3422209
>‘You’re fresh out of luck. They’re not going to be in until at least Monday.’ (State)
>‘Would you mind if I inquire what for?’ (Inquire)

First leads into the second to see how we can solve the problem.

>>3422209
>>‘You’re fresh out of luck. They’re not going to be in until at least Monday.’ (State)

>>3422211
Support

>>3422211
yea this

>>3422211
Supporting
Kinda lost with the actual setting but looks interesting enough

>>3422209
I'll back >>3422211

Also, if someone doesn't mind explaining, what happened to this quest? The entire story got reset? Why? I haven't been on /qst/ for a while but last time I was, we fought some funny space pirates. I guess I've missed a lot since then.

>>3423238
QM lost the notebook with all of the story and everything. Decided to start fresh instead.

>>3422209
>>‘You’re fresh out of luck. They’re not going to be in until at least Monday.’ (State)
>>‘Wait, how were you able to get onto this level without a pass from the Dormitory Manager at all?’ (Curious)

>>3423255
yup thats what happened

I'll be running in a bit. Hang tight. My rectum has some unfinished business with 30 fish sticks, 10 chicken sticks and 2 loaves of bread, so please wait warmly.

>>3424307
Ass pride, world wide.

File: Rosaria Shirt.jpg (45 KB, 480x480)

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‘You’re fresh out of luck,’ you answer evenly, placing your hands in your pockets as you regard present company. ‘I don’t think that they’re going to be around until the Imperial Firstday comes around, or … as you probably use it, Monday?’

Her eyes widen slightly, her mouth opening for a reply before her form visibly shrinks, for some reason or other. Well … no, not some reason, you suppose. As much as you’d tried to stay your tongue, you couldn’t help but throw a jab out that you had discerned more from her than she was likely comfortable going off on such a casual mention. She’d probably caught on. After all, only the Colony Fleets used the old terminology for the 24-hour day and 7-day week. Much more different to the Imperial Tradition, which had a less-linear count of days to the year. Standard months were still very much dictated by relative references, despite the name … and the Colony Fleets had stuck with their terminology for at least the last few millennia. It’s a finger to her status as one of them … and your usage of said terminology had thrown any attempt she would have at playing coy or being subtle to that right out the window.

She turns her head down, shoulders oscillating as she appears to considering a retort.

It could only be a retort. Colony Fleet Administrators and their henchmen had little concern for protocol unless it was the dictation of the bestowed rights upon them in their freedom on the galactic spaceways. As demure as this girl—this Rosaria Mole Vor-Spiral Blade-something—seems, your experience in observing your House’s dealings with them didn’t give you faith—

‘Is that so?’ Rosaria sighs, hanging her head. ‘Um, then … is there any other person I could go to to organize my lodgings?’

Despite your … prejudices, you try to be helpful. She’d put the act up well enough and it would be unbecoming of you to not at least return one of equal conviction.

‘Sorry to say, but you’re out luck there, too,’ you answer. ‘Unless you have your ID card activat—wait, how were you able to get on this level without a pass from the Dormitory Manager at all?’

She tilts her head. ‘Pass?’

You hold up your card. It was due to be expired by the evening’s arrival, but it still stood as a pretty good example.

‘I needed one?’

You’re incredulous.

‘The door was open and I saw people getting into the elevator so I just, um … I followed?’

You sigh, pinching to bridge of your nose. If this were one of your grandfather’s suites, someone would get a great big talking down to … although you really couldn’t blame the Dormitory Manager for their absence. Not with your bunch turning the place upside-down on an hourly basis in the aftermath of their Cadet years.

A crime that even you weren’t exempt from.

>>3424382
>‘Well, good luck, then.’ (Leave her be)
>‘Are you a transfer in from another Academy?’ (Discrete, Curious)
>‘Actually, I’m sure that if you go to Secondary Administrations, they’d be able to help you.’ ([Lie] Speech)
>‘You’re from a Colony Fleet, aren’t you? What’re you doing around here?’ (Indiscrete)
>Write-In

>>3424383
>‘Are you a transfer in from another Academy?’ (Discrete, Curious)

>>3424382
>‘Are you a transfer in from another Academy?’ (Discrete, Curious)

>>3424383
>Your best bet would be to find whichever instructor or overseer that got you into this place, report your issue to them, and hope they can work it out honestly. If you can tell me who I could point you in the right direction.

>‘Are you a transfer in from another Academy?’ (Discrete, Curious)

>>3424383
>>‘Are you a transfer in from another Academy?’ (Discrete, Curious)

>>3424383
>>‘Are you a transfer in from another Academy?’ (Discrete, Curious)

>>3424383
>>‘Are you a transfer in from another Academy?’ (Discrete, Curious)

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It was improbable … but even if it wasn’t on-track, it would likely be an easier way to break the ice. However, before you elect to utter another word, you raise your hand and place it on the—weirdly gooey—bare skin of her bicep, motioning her to move to the side. You were clogging up traffic and garnering some irritated gazes from your juniors and the last thing you wanted was getting into a fight as an assigned officer with a Cadet for standing in the middle of a hallway and being a general inconvenience for everyone involved. Escalating something form nothing … well, you doubt your grandfather would care to send agents if he found out, anyway. You were a Mishima … and that meant at least a sliver of discipline and discretion on your part.

Like you elect to do now.

‘Are you a transfer in from another Academy?’

It wasn’t unheard of that a Colony Fleet, a Spacer, would defect or abandon their previous life for the safety net of Imperial rule. Rim World Colonies and Independent Outposts were the more frequent recruits outside of The Imperium, but once in a while, you’d heard that a Colony Fleet dreamer would follow that dream … a popular sub-genre in many networks. You’d know. Your House operated some of them.

Perhaps she was one of those.

She seemed too old to be a first-year.

‘No, um, I’m, ah … I’m not,’ she replies, as if in apology. She brings her fingers together, throwing up a smile that was more nervous than anything else. ‘This is actually my first time on an Imperial World. Feels odd getting used to … natural gravity.’

Rhysode’s index was about 0.95. Pretty much on the safer extremes of the standard scales. You’d been at 1.03. If this was odd for her, then—

You shake your head. No use being side-tracked.

‘So you’re from a Colony Fleet, then? Just touched down?’

Rosaria nods meekly.

‘I was supposed to meet with the Dormitory Manager two days ago,’ she reveals, her shoulders drooping as she looks aside. ‘But I … don’t know the geography of this world at all and touched down at Espinosa Port—’

‘Espinosa?’ you cry out, incredulous. That was at least a thousand miles south. She was closer to the coast and Rhysode Delta than she was to the Academy. ‘That’s … well, you definitely missed the mark.’

Rosaria bites her bottom lip.

‘I had some money,’ she continues, ‘but I ran out switching at the port stations and—’

‘Wait,’ you cut her off, raising her hand. ‘Why didn’t you just call the Academy and get someone to pick you up?’

She hangs her head. ‘I … I couldn’t get a pass into the channel without any ID and none of the enforcement agents were … keen on helping me. I … I decided to just come here myself.’

You stare at her, incredulous.

Yet, you couldn’t fully discount her story.

‘I know I’m a week late, but …’

>>3424490
>'You know, I ... sympathize. I might not be from the Colony Fleet, but I guess I can see how hard being from one might be for you on an Imperial World.' (Sympathize)
>'Well, whatever it is, good luck.' (Dismissive, leave)
>'So who sent you over here, then?' (Follow-up)
>'Why are you here, then? Trying to join up and make a career or just trying to get a head-start?' (Inquisitive)
>Write-In

>>3424494
>>'You know, I ... sympathize. I might not be from the Colony Fleet, but I guess I can see how hard being from one might be for you on an Imperial World.' (Sympathize)
>>'Why are you here, then? Trying to join up and make a career or just trying to get a head-start?' (Inquisitive)

We need to start figuring out what shes here for or we're not getting anywhere.

>>3424494
>>'You know, I ... sympathize. I might not be from the Colony Fleet, but I guess I can see how hard being from one might be for you on an Imperial World.' (Sympathize)

>>3424494
>>'So who sent you over here, then?' (Follow-up)

>>3424494
>>'You know, I ... sympathize. I might not be from the Colony Fleet, but I guess I can see how hard being from one might be for you on an Imperial World.' (Sympathize)
>>'Why are you here, then? Trying to join up and make a career or just trying to get a head-start?' (Inquisitive)

>>3424494
>'You know, I ... sympathize. I might not be from the Colony Fleet, but I guess I can see how hard being from one might be for you on an Imperial World.' (Sympathize)
>'Why are you here, then? Trying to join up and make a career or just trying to get a head-start?' (Inquisitive)

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‘You know, I,’ you pause, regarding her for a moment, before letting out a tired sigh. There were some habits that you really needed to … temper. ‘I sympathize. I might not be from a Space—Colony Fleet—but I think I can picture how hard it’d be for you being on an Imperial World alone … never mind being on one for the first time.’

She probably wasn’t even on the grid, as far as the Empire was concerned. Imperial agencies took tentative steps in regards to the hundreds of Colony Fleets roaming the galaxy … and making things convenient for them wasn’t a priority. Sound logic on paper. The Colony Fleets and the Empire had elected on a standing set of rules that dictated non-interference between the two parties; one honoured by both sides to sometimes antagonistic and ridiculous extents. Colony Fleets would fleece any traveller caught low on provisions on the wrong side of a system and trade whatever cobbled tech they’d deemed worth something on a ridiculous premium (and coming from a Trade House, it was saying something) and the Colony Fleets would be unwelcome on any terraformed or colonized world that they happened to set foot on for whatever reason.

The only thing keeping the peace was the mutual dislike both sides had for the Republic and the Alliance Military … and these days, you weren’t not quite sure if the Colony Fleets saw much of a difference (Although, you do concede they likely did, as only one known Fleet regularly ventured past the Rim and into Alliance space: Fleet Simpson or something). That the entire planet and its administration served as an obstacle to this woman before you … made you empathize more with her plight that you’d first thought.

‘Thank you,’ she replies, her smile lighting up slightly.

‘Must have been quite a trip,’ you point out amusedly. The regret comes almost as quickly as your joke.

Habits will be habits.

Thankfully, however, she doesn’t seem aware of your snipe at all.

‘It was,’ she laughs, clutching herself. ‘They asked me a lot of questions and asked for identification and where my fleet and the Expedition was and … well, I had a pass for travel, but it didn’t get me out of trouble. I ran out of money, but I was lucky enough to catch a ride into the city.’

You nod. ‘So how’d you get here without ID?’

She shrugged, letting out a sound of amusement.

‘I walked.’

You stare at her. She’d walked ten miles between the city and the Academy, on foot?

‘It’s not like I could’ve stayed in town. I tried to one of the salvation chapters, but … well, I’m … not their jurisdiction. I decided to just leg it. I mean, I need to get used to the gravity sooner or later, don’t I? Fresh air and wind! Never thought I’d experience it for myself!’

She bounces.

The fatigue is more visible than her exuberance.

>>3424611
>'Any reason you made a beeline for the Academy? Are you starting a term or ...' (Inquire)
>[Sniff Sniff] (Point out the smell)
>'Well, good luck to you.' (Leave)
>'So who sent you over, then?' (Follow-up)
>Write-In

>>3424611
>'Any reason you made a beeline for the Academy? Are you starting a term or ...' (Inquire)

>>3424614
>>'Any reason you made a beeline for the Academy? Are you starting a term or ...' (Inquire)

>>3424614
>>'Any reason you made a beeline for the Academy? Are you starting a term or ...' (Inquire)

>>3424614
>>'Any reason you made a beeline for the Academy? Are you starting a term or ...' (Inquire)

>>3424614
>>'Any reason you made a beeline for the Academy? Are you starting a term or ...' (Inquire)

>>3424614
>>'Any reason you made a beeline for the Academy? Are you starting a term or ...' (Inquire)


>>3423255
Oh, that's unfortunate. I'm curious to see how differently the story unfolds this time though.

>>3424614
>'Any reason you made a beeline for the Academy? Are you starting a term or ...' (Inquire)
>'So who sent you over, then?' (Follow-up)

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‘So any reason you made a beeline for the Academy?’ you ask further, your curiosity to her presence peaking. ‘Are you starting a term or …’

She looked to be in her late teens, early twenties in standard age (Although by Hotho terms, she’d probably be old enough to get a Corporate Sponsor for sponsored living, in comparison to the late standard forties elsewhere; Hotho was weird like that) at most. At the very least a year or two younger. If she wasn’t a transfer … you really couldn’t fathom why she’d be here in the dormitories. The Aegis had strict age restrictions on military personnel … and anyone hoping to get an honest qualification from The Aegis in hopes of getting a head-start in the corporate world wasn’t allowed to stay on campus (Not that it was hard to circumvent that; most took the service they’d been granted for the three standard before dropping out; it’s a loophole that’s—strangely—never been a concern to the higher-ups), which made her presence all the more puzzling.

Unless, of course, she was a …

No. They’d be much more professional about it. Not that you’d know anything about that, of course.

‘I’m ah … I’m due to start an apprenticeship here,’ she answers, albeit with some hesitation. ‘I was supposed to report in, but, ah … well, like I’ve said, things didn’t go exactly as I expected it to be …’

>‘So you came from a colony fleet, hitch-hiked a thousand miles to take up an apprenticeship of some trade with The Aegis and … there’s definitely a story there that I’m supposed to buy, isn’t there?’ (Spot the thread [Speech])
>‘Nothing ever does.’ (Sympathize)
>‘Hn.’ (Indifferent)
>‘Well, good luck with that.’ (Leave her be)
>Write-In

>>3426586
>>‘So you came from a colony fleet, hitch-hiked a thousand miles to take up an apprenticeship of some trade with The Aegis and … there’s definitely a story there that I’m supposed to buy, isn’t there?’ (Spot the thread [Speech])
we are a speechy man, right?

>>3426586
>>‘So you came from a colony fleet, hitch-hiked a thousand miles to take up an apprenticeship of some trade with The Aegis and … there’s definitely a story there that I’m supposed to buy, isn’t there?’ (Spot the thread [Speech])
>>Who are you apprenticed too? They might be able to sort you out.

>>3426586
>>‘So you came from a colony fleet, hitch-hiked a thousand miles to take up an apprenticeship of some trade with The Aegis and … there’s definitely a story there that I’m supposed to buy, isn’t there?’ (Spot the thread [Speech])

>>3426586
Okay, just to clarify [Speech] means there's a speech check. All your basic stats start at 1, of which there are 7 "resolution stats" So since you're a Scion?

You have a base of 1 + 2 from your Speech Resolution, so you get a total of 3 Resolution whenever you do a speech check. As you gain "Honor" as a pilot, you level up these 7 Resolution stats, to a maximum of 10 points in each stat. All of them are resolved by d6.

>>3426586
>>‘So you came from a colony fleet, hitch-hiked a thousand miles to take up an apprenticeship of some trade with The Aegis and … there’s definitely a story there that I’m supposed to buy, isn’t there?’ (Spot the thread [Speech])

>>3426589
Yes.
>>3426592

>>3426594
Is it a d6 individually or a QM roll after the choice is decided?

>>3426586
>>‘So you came from a colony fleet, hitch-hiked a thousand miles to take up an apprenticeship of some trade with The Aegis and … there’s definitely a story there that I’m supposed to buy, isn’t there?’ (Spot the thread [Speech])

>>3426586
>‘So you came from a colony fleet, hitch-hiked a thousand miles to take up an apprenticeship of some trade with The Aegis and … there’s definitely a story there that I’m supposed to buy, isn’t there?’ (Spot the thread [Speech])

>>3426596
I'm actually giving you guys a choice. Do you want to elect one champion or do you want averages? Either way, you beat it, you win.

>>3426631
What do you mean by "one champion"? Im not a fan of first to roll

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>3426586
Ill put my roll in just in case

>>3426633
That's up to everyone. If we go by my usual rules, we wait for 5. If we go by "champion", I can get resolutions done quicker.

>>3426637
Average of 3 as a compromise?

>>3426637
Ill definitely put in first to five as my vote. Though id like things to go quicker, im definitely not a fan of going with whoever rolls first

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>3426631
i'll stick with averages, as much as i like quicker rolls, our luck is too abysmal to trust to one person

>>3426640
Case and point.

>>3426640
i suppose this is case in point really

>>3426634
>>3426640
Guys, I haven't even started the roll prompt yet. Hang on, let everyone have their say then we can go forward.

I'll side with those asking for averages.

Averages it is.
The next post will be the speech check, so please reply to that.

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Rolled 2, 1, 2, 4, 2 = 11 (5d6)

SPEECH!
Base: 1
Bonuses: +2 to Averages (Trade House Scion)

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>3426650

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>3426650

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>3426650
RNGESUS GUIDE ME

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>3426650

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>3426650

>>3426652
>>3426654
>>3426655
>>3426657
>>3426659
Good job!

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You’re not satisfied. You move to make that lack of contentment known.

‘So, you came down from a colony fleet,’ you start, sounding every bit as unimpressed as you intended to be, ‘hitch-hiked a thousand miles to take up an apprenticeship of some sort of trade that the Aegis has legitimately offered you and … you know, I feel like that there’s a story that I’m supposed to buy here but your salesmanship’s definitely lacking.’

She almost looks aghast.

‘I … I wasn’t intending on hiding anything.’

‘No,’ you agree, nodding. You could definitely tell that much; you were sheltered, not blinded. ‘But you’re definitely not telling me everything.’

Rosaria bites her bottom lip.

‘I … we just met,’ she throws back, sounding affronted. ‘Why do you—’

‘Because you being here without explicit permission isn’t just against regulations, it’s a crime,’ you say pointedly, leaning in close so your voice didn’t carry beyond your ears or hers. As busy as the other bodies were in the hallway, you didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing that she was here without any sort of relevant identification or permission; as much as you disliked the Colony Fleet, she hadn’t really done anything to anger you out of malice or by cruel intention. ‘I don’t think that you’re doing anything malicious, but really, if you want me to help you out, I think a better thing to do is to help me understand your situation a little better.’

Rosaria shifts her weight from one foot to the other, looking more hesitant as the seconds pass.

‘I’m … I’m not lying or anything,’ she declares softly, looking downward. For a moment you feel like kicking yourself in the back of the head; she resembled a whipped kitten more than she did a smelly refugee. ‘Mr Fisk just told me to come here and I …’

You hold up your hands, your regret finally overtaking any rational perspective you’d held.

The smell wasn’t doing her any favours, but if your grandfather and uncle found out that you’d reduced a woman to tears, you’d probably have better luck joining a Rim Pirate’s crew than you did keeping your status as a member of Trade House Mishima, rightful suspicion or no.

‘Look,’ you sigh, moving to apologize. ‘I’m sorry, I … I get carried away sometimes. Instructor Fisk sent you here?’

She nods.

‘I was supposed to meet up with him but he told me that the terms were over and he’d find me a spot to take up my apprenticeship in the next two standard weeks,’ she reveals. ‘I arrived late, so he already had his crew set, so he said he’d bring me onto the next inspection unit to start. I asked him where I could stay and he told me that the Dormitory Managers would sort that out and …’

Rosaria lets out a hiss, running a hand over her face.

She lets out an exasperated sigh of her own. She sounded ... exhausted.

And while you didn't want to comment on it, you can't help but feel like she was just passed around without any sort of accountability in regards to her purpose or presence. It was like they didn't want anything to do with her.

Coming from a Colony Fleet, though ... the attitudes were probably expected.

You knew that more than most.

>'You won't be able to register for at least a few days. I suggest you try and at least talk with one of the administrators to see what they can do. No promises, though.' (Conclude)
>'Maybe it's because you smell bad.'
>'I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I'm heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along, no issue.' (Helpful)
>'Well, nice talking to you.' (Leave)
>Write-In

>>3426687
>>'I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I'm heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along, no issue.' (Helpful)

>>3426687
>>'I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I'm heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along, no issue.' (Helpful)

>>3426687
>'I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I'm heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along, no issue.' (Helpful)

>>3426687
>>'I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I'm heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along, no issue.' (Helpful)

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>>3426684
>>3426586
>>3424611
>>3424490
>>3424382
>>3422208
>>3422159
>gif related

>>3426687
>'I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I'm heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along, no issue.' (Helpful)

>>3426687
>>'I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I'm heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along, no issue.' (Helpful)

>>3426684
>>'I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I'm heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along, no issue.' (Helpful)
She was fairly okay in the previous run, but no one could resist sexy shishou thighs...

I'm sorry that I had to cut today's session short, but I had to go to the bank and drop a few things off.

>>3426958
No worries.

>>3426764
Does she still have the sex slave background?

>>3427779
Don't know yet.

I'll be running in about an hour.

File: I Thought Fisk Was Nice.jpg (161 KB, 850x1203)

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You’d known her for ten minutes.

Ten minutes.

By all rights, her plight wasn’t even uncommon. There were many on Industrial Worlds that had worse plights on the hour and many more on abandoned Rim Worlds on the galactic No Man’s Land that could take being homeless for thirty-six hours as easily as the next breath of polluted air. Yet, at the same time … you couldn’t help but reach over the edge of sympathy. She could be lying, of course; there was no way that you could verify the truth, but if she was making an attempt at subterfuge, going by the way of a Colony Fleet member—former or current as irrelevant as synthetic grass—was a poor way to go about it … or in some roundabout way, the most audaciously perfect cover for it.

But if there was anything that your mother had taught you (In her own haughty, dismissive fashion, befitting the wife of a Trade House Scion) that had stuck in her sparse appearances in your life it was to be offer a hand in the event you could, and especially if it came at no significant inconvenience. Not that she was a saint herself, mind. None of your family could be considered average in the eyes of the everyday citizen … and your mother, of lower nobility and marrying into the Trade House, embodied some of the horrifying approaches and attitudes that you’d applied in your short life.

When she was right, however, she was right … and the wrong thing to do would be to leave this woman, Rosaria, to the mercies of an Imperium that hadn’t quite accepted her and the frivolous hands of one mad Instructor Fisk.

‘I probably shouldn’t be doing this,’ you start, feeling hesitant at uttering the disclaimer at all, ‘but I’m heading into a hotel in the city. I can pull a few strings to get you some lodgings until Firstday comes along and you’re able to sort yourself out.’

‘Huh?’

You let out a sigh, placing your hands on your hips.

‘You don’t have any identification or anything, right? You’re not going to get far going around without at least your registration sorted out … and since you’re not from around here’—you try to skirt around the detail, lest someone actually be listening in—‘I doubt that you know anyone around that’ll be willing to put you up for the next thirty-six hours.’

‘I … I was thinking of asking Mr Fisk if he would be able to.’

You could just shrug and be on your way.

But … even if she was a Spacer, you doubt that Fisk would have anything benevolent for her. If he was careless enough with the first years, then …

‘Trust me,’ you reply evenly, ‘that putting your life in Fisk’s hands isn’t … advisable.’

She looks downward. ‘I thought he was nice.'

You sigh.

‘Look,’ you let out, half-exasperated. ‘Like I said, I probably shouldn’t be doing this at all, but you don’t look like you’re sorted out just yet and I’d be a jerk if I let you wander around and at least not put the offer out. I’m not … forcing you or anything, but, well, I’m not trying to short-sell you on a stock if you want to opt out on it. It’s up to you.’

Rosaria’s lips thin as she raises her gaze, a sort of … fear in her eyes; they bore into you with an apprehension you’d expected to be more tepid. Your father’s tone had probably carved your voice out a little more harshly than you’d thought.

‘And … what would I have to give in return for this … favour?’

Her voice is … timid.

>‘Nothing.’ (Blunt)
>‘A shower.’ (Stinky Girl Is Stinky)
>‘Madam, you literally, literally don’t have anything that I can’t get on my own.’ (Haughty)
>Write-In

>>3429143
>‘Madam, you literally, literally don’t have anything that I can’t get on my own.’ (Haughty)
Ho ho, you’re propositioning me? Trade Scion numero uno?

>>3429143
>‘A shower.’ (Stinky Girl Is Stinky)

>>3429143
>‘A shower.’ (Stinky Girl Is Stinky)

>>3429143
>>‘Nothing.’ (Blunt)

>>3429143
>>‘A shower.’ (Stinky Girl Is Stinky)

>>3429143
>>‘Madam, you literally, literally don’t have anything that I can’t get on my own.’ (Haughty)

>>3429143
>>Write-In
maybe consider joining my pit crew once your training is done?

(because spess redneck french braid are sorta good at mechanical stuff)

>>3429160
this

>>3429160
thats putting the cart before the horse m8. we havent even left the Dorm

>>3429165
its just like giving someone our calling card, we arent asking her to join us now but after her training and its more of consider it when your done with stuff

>>3429160
And this.

>>3429143
‘A shower.’ (Stinky Girl Is Stinky)

>>3429160
This.

You don’t hesitate with what you wish in return.

‘A shower.’

‘Eh?’

You take in a deep breath, trying your best to hold back the disgust as the pungent odour—akin to Moldonhirm Soil Mushrooms crushed with Deliberately Rotted E-Tangerines—assaults your nose with a vengeance. It wasn’t anything like raw sewage, but it was so strong and invasive that you’d rather be in a room with Rhysode Academy’s Wargeass first eleven after a game than have another round with the odour that she emanated. Perhaps that was why no one had helped; more than the fact that she was from a Colony Fleet, perhaps one strong whiff was what made everyone automatically adopt a wide berth when it came to her.

‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed,’ you manage, raising your hand to give where your hand had made contact with her skin and giving it a whiff before moving it away almost immediately, ‘but body odour management solutions aren’t universal.’

She turns red.

‘It … is it really that bad?’

‘Yes,’ you answer; no use dancing around it. ‘Planetary atmosphere is much less sterile to the simulated environments on … your ships, and they react differently to different atmospheric calibrations, depending on the planet, but the generally accepted rule is that upon contact, they turn into something counter to their intended purpose.’

She visibly deflates.

‘Oh.’

You roll your eyes.

>‘Yours isn’t too bad, though. It’s more … concentrated, but you’re at least bearable from a foot away.’ (Try to console her)
>‘Yup.’ (Affirm)
>Write-In

>>3429308
>‘Yours isn’t too bad, though. It’s more … concentrated, but you’re at least bearable from a foot away.’ (Try to console her)

>>3429308
>>‘Yours isn’t too bad, though. It’s more … concentrated, but you’re at least bearable from a foot away.’ (Try to console her)
>>3429308

>>3429308
>>‘Yours isn’t too bad, though. It’s more … concentrated, but you’re at least bearable from a foot away.’ (Try to console her)

>>3429308
>‘Yours isn’t too bad, though. It’s more … concentrated, but you’re at least bearable from a foot away.’ (Try to console her)

>>3429308
>>‘Yours isn’t too bad, though. It’s more … concentrated, but you’re at least bearable from a foot away.’ (Try to console her)

>>3429308
>>‘Yours isn’t too bad, though. It’s more … concentrated, but you’re at least bearable from a foot away.’ (Try to console her)
>>Write-In
"Dont worry, its a common spacer error. At least you'll know what to look out for next time you reach planetside."

File: Girl (2).jpg (53 KB, 600x750)

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Perhaps you were being too insensitive.

It wasn’t as if the typical Colony Fleet Inhabitant came down often into atmosphere to have it on any checklist. You run a hand through your hair, quietly lamenting the conscience that you hadn’t expected to have grown in the last five years. Not that you would have been cruel, of course, but you wouldn’t have cared beyond putting her down for some charity subsidiary and going on your merry way.

Discovering that life didn’t revolve around you and your whims seemed to have that effect on people.

‘Not that yours is too bad,’ you declare with some measure of amusement. ‘It’s more … concentrated, but you’re at least bearable at from a foot away.’

She smiles wryly, her eyes focusing on the floor.

You catch some curious gazes from your underclassmen, more than likely wondering what you were still doing on the premises instead of being out on the town enjoying your thirty-plus hours of freedom.

‘Thank you … I guess.’

An awkward silence takes place between the both of you. You’re uncertain of what else to say; coming up with words that didn’t off-handedly sound condescending or cruel was a chore whenever it came to those of her ilk … and while you found her pleasant enough, shaking prejudice off, justified or no, was not something you could just learn and apply at a finger’s snap. However, you also know just how alone she probably felt … and even if you couldn’t be her best friend over night, at the very least, you owed her a measure of your courtesy.

‘But back to the point,’ you stress, realigning yourself. ‘Outside of your … hygiene, I really don’t expect you to do anything. Think of this as a … welcome from the Empire’—even if it totally wasn’t and even your father’s protection detail would probably cringe at your choice of words—‘and a … personal extension of kindness from a graduating member to an … underclassman.’

She stares at you.

You decide to come clean.

‘That, and if Instructor Fisk has any plans for you, you could at least use the next few days to yourself.’

Rosaria’s brows crease upward in concern, pressing the tips of her fingers against one another. ‘I … don’t have any money.’

You roll your eyes. ‘Which is why I’m offering,’ you clarify dryly. ‘As long as you’re willing to take a shower and get some atmosphere-friendly cleaning up, it stands.’

She hesitates.

You decide to try again.

‘Well?’

‘Is … it really okay? I won’t be a bother?’

You sigh. How many times did you have to repeat yourself?

‘Yes. It is.’

‘I don’t have any money or anything I can offer,’ she asserts, ‘Are you … sure?’

She was either the most risk-averse person in the universe or just paranoid to the point of irritation.. Still, if she wanted assurance, then.

>'Of course; I am totally trying to con you into coming to a hotel in the city because I need to get my rocks off and get some tail before I get shipped off for the next eight standard years with an eggwrench as my bedroom buddy. That's totally what I'm doing and I have failed in my attempts in being opaque. Yeesh ... you try to be nice ...' (Sarcasm)
>'Yes.' (Blunt)
>'You know what? Good luck.' (Leave her be)
>Write-In

>>3429427
>>'Yes.' (Blunt)
Money isn't a problem for me to be frank.

>>3429427
>'Yes.' (Blunt)

>>3429427
>Write-In
“Well if you really must, what about your comm code then? We’ll need it to contact each other over the next few days if anything happens.”

Add in a grin, harmless trade.

>>3429427
>'Yes.' (Blunt)

>>3429437
eh sounds smart to me

>>3429437
this and add the fact that you can consider joining my crew as a mechanic or something

>>3429437
Um, she doesn't have one. She's not even registered. She's essentially an alien who only has her touchdown pass.

>>3429467
oh, well then lets be Blunt

>>3429467
Isnt there some sort of universal email system thingie. For personal intergalactic communication. Thats what i mean.

>>3429427
>>Write-In
"we should properly get you fixed up and proper then, i assume with how things have gone you dont even have the basic necessities and the like. cant have you doing an apprenticeship with out that.

and if you really insist on paying me back, you could consider joining my crew once you graduate, more tech help would be good"

>>3429427
>>'Yes.' (Blunt)

>>3429477
I like this. Pay me back by joining my crew later.

On my phone. Sorry guys, I had to jet. Need to do some errands.

>>3429427
'Yes.' (Blunt)

>>3429427
>Sarcasm

>>3429427
>>'Yes.' (Blunt)
"But if you really want to repay the favor, you can do so by looking out for whoever next needs help."

File: Hello To You Senpai.jpg (104 KB, 428x471)

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‘Yes.’

Easy.

Simple.

‘Okay.’

Easy.

Simple.

You feel like your father convincing a prospective subsidiary agreeing to an exclusivity deal under pain of liquidation … probably. Your father rarely showed anything but a cool determination to get what he wanted … to which he, quite often, did. You could count the number of times you’d seen him in person in the last ten years on your hands and toes, but judging by how merciless he was in the feeding frenzy that made up the thousands of conglomerates under the Mishima Trade House’s umbrella, it would be naive to assume that he didn’t derive some sort of pleasure from closing a deal. Why else would he rather jump tower to tower than pop in for a visit?

Not that you wanted one. You’d rather go out of ammunition and brandishing an unmaintained heat-axe in a Hellion than locked in a room with your father for more than ten minutes.

Rosaria (You’re still uncertain if you should be calling her that; you weren’t friends or on a first-name basis) shifts uncomfortably in place, picking her bag up with a loud clatter and jingle, tossing it over her back and smiling … nervously. She probably felt like she’d bitten onto a hook.

‘So … am I to follow you … sir?’

You laugh. ‘I don’t have rank just yet, madam.’

‘You can call me Rosaria,’ she replies, making your task that much easier. ‘I … I know that my last name’s a little hard to … say in full.’

You let out another chortle, caught. ‘Right, then … I can’t go around parading myself by rank just yet, so …’

‘Senpai.’

You blink. ‘Eh?’

What was this feeling in your chest?

‘Even if you don’t have rank, you’re … still my senior, aren’t you? So … Senpai.’

This swelling of ego.

‘Um,’ you blink again, at a loss of words. ‘I … all right.’

‘So, do I … is it all right if I tag along or do you …’

‘Yeah,’ you answer, nodding. ‘You don’t have any on-world comms on you, right? And I can’t leave you around on the plaza without identification of any sort … better for you to stick with me until you have everything sorted.’

She nods tightly. ‘Of course.’

‘Well, I—’

‘Urgh, it’s a crapshoot!’

You let out a sigh of exasperation as you feel a strong hold around your neck and the irritated voice of one Ryosuke Umikaze, back from another of his poaching attempts with neither feather nor tooth of his prey. A mental counter in your head ticks in triple digits as you stay your tongue of a lecture in futility … and—

‘Oh, hello.’

Rosaria bows in respect.

‘Good day.’

Ryosuke releases his hold on you, his focus now on the blonde woman before you. You consider your options ...

>‘Rosaria, this is Ryosuke. Ryosuke, this is Rosaria.’ (Neutral)
>‘Ryosuke; Rosaria. Rosaria, living evidence that even with all the physical prowess in the world, you can be a failure with the opposite sex.’ (Joke)
>‘So you’d even take a Spacer, huh?’ (Blunt)
>‘You move on way too quickly.’ (Pointed)
>Write-In

>>3432072
>‘Ryosuke; Rosaria. Rosaria, living evidence that even with all the physical prowess in the world, you can be a failure with the opposite sex.’ (Joke)

>>3432072
>>‘Ryosuke; Rosaria. Rosaria, living evidence that even with all the physical prowess in the world, you can be a failure with the opposite sex.’ (Joke)

>ma kokoro

>>3432097
>tfw a girl calls you senpai not out of a cringey attempt to be cute, but in full reverence of your authority and seniority

>>3432115
still makes me heart go HNNGGGH

>>3432072
>‘Ryosuke; Rosaria. Rosaria, living evidence that even with all the physical prowess in the world, you can be a failure with the opposite sex.’ (Joke)

>>3432072
>>‘Ryosuke; Rosaria. Rosaria, living evidence that even with all the physical prowess in the world, you can be a failure with the opposite sex.’ (Joke)

>>3432072
>>‘Ryosuke; Rosaria. Rosaria, living evidence that even with all the physical prowess in the world, you can be a failure with the opposite sex.’ (Joke)

File: women women women.jpg (679 KB, 800x800)

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‘Ryosuke, Rosaria,’ you introduce, gesturing to Rosaria before doing the same to the wagging set of eyebrows that was once an entity you deemed friend. ‘Rosaria, meet living evidence that even with all the physical prowess on this world, you can be an absolute and utter failure with the opposite sex.’

Ryosuke actually looks offended.

Good.

‘Pleased to meet you, Ryosuke-senpai.’

He recovers quickly enough, however. Not that you expected any less.

‘Rosaria’ll be tagging along with us for the day,’ you announce, readjusting your bag. ‘She doesn’t have her registration sorted out just yet.’

Ryosuke frowns. ‘Wait, what? How’d she get in then?’

You and Rosaria share a knowing look.

>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)
>Head to the Practice Hangars
>Head to the Academy Plaza
>Head to the Stadium
>Head to the Instructors' Lounge
>Head to the Gardens/Lake
>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles
>Try the Archive
>Write-In

>>3432247
>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)

>>3432247
>>Head to the Instructors' Lounge

>>3432247
>>Head to the Instructors' Lounge

>>3432247
>>Head to the Instructors' Lounge

>>3432247
>>Head to the Instructors' Lounge

File: Building.jpg (8 KB, 259x194)

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Rosaria and Ryosuke hit it off well enough that you almost felt like a third wheel. What they hit off on, though … was something that you didn’t expect at all. For a Colony Fleet Inhabitant, Rosaria was … oddly curious, so much so that she was willing to hear Ryosuke drone on and on about his homeworld, an Industrial World dominated by Trade House Akaba that went by the name of Wuron, an inhabited moon of titan of a planet in the Clannard System. Rosaria seemed entranced from the get-go, curiously inquiring about things such as habitable levels, under-levels, under-under-levels and how the logistics of the megacities that made up those worlds operated. Ryosuke, ever eager to share, was only too willing to regale her with tales from his childhood, like a Knight-Commander with eighty years of a career under his belt. Dodging Trade House-endorsed thugs in the stree—

You pause in your thoughts.

You always forgot that Ryosuke’s were …

‘So you actually jumped?’

‘Well, I swung,’ he bragged, hitting his chest. ‘It was a huge drop, so I couldn’t exactly get a grip properly, but I managed to grab one of the wires and swung across. Man, those were some times!’

‘Wuron sounds so … dangerous, though!’ Rosaria exclaims, holding her hand to her mouth. ‘I thought that the Empire would—’

‘The Trade Houses and the Empire have a deal on the table in regards to jurisdiction,’ you cut in, practically reciting it from memory. ‘There are levels of autocratic rule that both sides are willing to let slide in certain jurisdictions, and so long as the Trade Houses don’t rebel against Imperial authority or The Emperor’s direct commands, the policing of worlds is largely left independent to those worlds and their direct governance. It’s mostly in place, ironically, so that cases like Ryosuke’s don’t get too widespread. Your mileage varies on how effective it is.’

‘People are messy no matter how you spin it,’ Ryosuke comments. ‘And speakin’ of people … why the Hell are we here?’

The Instructor’s Lounge. Just where you had intended to be. One and a half blocks away from the plaza, positively minute in comparison to the other buildings … and, currently, filled with every Instructor of The Aegis sorting out their last details for the semester … and the first of the next.

‘Come on, you seriously don’t want to say goodbye?’

Ryosuke narrows his eyes. ‘Aw, come on, man … seriously? I signed off yesterday. I don’t wanna see Wray again!’

You chuckle.

You share the sentiment.

‘Come on,’ you gesture, holding up your key.

He sighs. ‘Fine.’

‘Rosaria’—she stands at attention—‘wait for us here, okay?’

She nods.

The door opens as you hold up your credentials to the scanner, marching inside to see your former Instructors, all lazing around on an assortment of couches, tables and the sort, already getting a head-start on the next batch. Not all of them were here, of course. Darton Wray's absence the most significant (Probably much to Ryosuke's relief), but you recognize some of your favorites. Zalatz, your remedial conditioning coach was at the table chatting with basics instructor Orbyn (Who, oddly enough, insisted he wasn't at all related to the Trade House or the world of the same name) while Memphis was on the couch, the most casually-dressed of the Instructors present. You see Instructors Bydoon and Corinth going over their papers, probably comparing notes on practical application, while Specialist Cindon, a temporary transfer, was sipping a mug of coffee next to a stack of physical books that probably cost more than everything else in the office.

It is as you had expected.

'Man, this place always gives me the shivers.'

>Approach Zalatz and Orbyn
>Approach Memphis
>Approach Cindon
>Approach Bydoon and Corinth
>Leave

>>3432449
>>Approach Zalatz and Orbyn

>>3432449
>Approach Zalatz and Orbyn

>>3432449
>Approach Zalatz and Orbyn

>>3432449
>Approach Bydoon and Corinth

>>3432449
>>Approach Memphis

>>3432449
>>Approach Zalatz and Orbyn

>>3432449
>"Finally we're free of you assholes!"

File: Orbyn.jpg (274 KB, 2134x1600)

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You weren’t the only former students here to say their goodbyes, of course. You could see some other familiar faces chatting away with their now-former Instructors, the winner of the big prize being one Instructor Yodinho, who, despite his pronounced set of buck teeth and messy hair, was extremely popular among many of the Wargeass hopefuls looking to transition a career from the Aegis into one of the Divisional, System-Wide or Territorial Drafts. It irritated you, somewhat, that so many people would use The Aegis as a stepping stone into a career rather than choosing to do their duty, but … if The Aegis had no problem with it, you suppose you shouldn’t either.

Besides, if there was anyone to ask on the matter, it was probably Deidrick Zalatz.

‘I’m telling you, Deidrick,’ Instructor Orbyn addresses Zalatz, raising his old prosthetic level to the man’s gaze. ‘You keep neglecting this, it’s just going to get worse. You can’t keep using your tenure as an excuse to run away from your damn problems.’

‘I’m not running away from anything,’ Zalatz lets out, ‘but I’m so close to getting a permanent—’

He cuts himself off, right as he notices you and Ryosuke walking up to their table. You assume a formal stance, throwing up a salute; Ryosuke follows suit to your right. You’re returned a pair of half-hearted acknowledgements, but nonetheless, they’re there.

‘Ah, the Mishima boy,’ Orbyn chortles, smirking as he raises his heavy brows, probably surprised at your presence. ‘What can I do you for?’

‘Uh, nothing in particular, sir,’ you reply, motioning to clasp your hands behind your back. ‘Just thought I’d … say my goodbyes.’

‘Goodbye,’ Zalatz replies gruffly. Orbyn, quite visibly, gives the man an elbow to the forearm.

‘Hey, come on, don’t take your shit out on the kid,’ Orbyn chastises, flaring his nostrils at his friend. Zalatz lets out a grumble of a sigh, raising his head to meet your gaze … and gives a small wave of dismissal. ‘See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re—’

‘Can we not do this in front of the kids, Meryl?’

Orbyn stares at his friend.

‘Deidrick, you’re on Rhysode.’

He runs his hands over his face, grumbling again. ‘Same difference.’

‘I think we should go,’ Ryosuke whispers into your ear, much to your surprise. You thought that he, of all people, would have liked to see something like unfold, being such a stickler for drama.

‘You’re exhausted and this close to a damn breakdown and I swear, if I have to have to get the Emperor himself to come down here to make you look in a stinkin’ mirror, my friend, I will.’

‘I’m fine,’ Zalatz insists. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘You’re depleted.’

He growls.

>>3435372
>‘Excuse me, sir, what’s … going on?’ (Intrude [Speech[)
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3435372
>‘Excuse me, sir, what’s … going on?’ (Intrude [Speech[)

>>3435375
>>‘Excuse me, sir, what’s … going on?’ (Intrude [Speech[)

>>3435375
>>‘Excuse me, sir, what’s … going on?’ (Intrude [Speech[)

>>3435375
>>‘Excuse me, sir, what’s … going on?’ (Intrude [Speech[)

File: I like this.jpg (239 KB, 1200x1295)

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SPEECH!
Base: 2
BONUSES: +2 to Averages (Trade House Scion)

Rolled 2, 1, 3, 2, 1 = 9 (5d6)

>>3435413

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>3435413

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>3435413

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>3435415

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>3435415

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>3435413

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>3435415

File: Zalatz.jpg (33 KB, 225x350)

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‘Excuse me, sir, what’s … going on?’

You can practically hear the whiplash of Ryosuke’s neck. You don’t hold it against him, either. Stepping into the personal territory of your Instructors like this, whatever it was they were talking about, was against every survival instinct you’d honed as a Scion of House Mishima and as a cadet of The Aegis. That wasn’t even delving into the implications of yourself, as an effective stranger, poking your nose in where you weren’t needed or called upon. Regret, a cruel mistress, seizes your throat with Zalatz’s unimpressed gaze. You have half a mind to bolt and leave Ryosuke behind.

‘Not that I care, uh, to intrude, sir,’ you clarify yourself, seizing upon the fifteen years of formal de-escalation training that your parents had subjected you through; now or never. ‘However, as your student and your … now, a fellow soldier, I am merely voicing my concerns at your current state wish to inquire whether or not there’s anything I could do to … alleviate your burden, sir. I ask with all due respect sir, and will face the due punishment should you deem this intrusion to be out my scope and disrespectful of your station, sir.’

Both your former Instructors stare at you.

Orbyn’s the first to laugh. He’s also the only one to laugh.

‘Well, damn it, Deidrick, if that ain’t proof enough, I don’t know what is,’ he chortles. ‘Even he can see it. How do you think you’re gonna get your name on that list if even the Mishima boy can see you’re trudging around like fool?’

Zalatz grumbles, running his hands over his face again. ‘Can we not do this?’

‘Take a vacation.’

Orbyn sounds almost threatening saying that. Although, considering he was once on the shortlist for the Emperor’s escort, the six-foot-four giant probably didn’t need it … if he wasn’t such a ball of energy and enthusiasm most of the time. For a man with old-fashioned bionics and the musculature of a titan, Horus Orbyn (No relation to the world or the Trade House) was probably one of the most approachable Instructors on campus.

‘Excuse me, but, uh … is there something wrong with Instructor Zalatz … sir?’ Ryosuke’s voice is steady and confused, and, above all else, in possession—by your opinion—of good timing.

Orbyn moves to answer, ignoring the reluctant expression on his friend’s face. ‘He’s having marital issues.’

‘Horus, I swear on my mother’s grave, I’ll—’

‘Please, I mentored you in my graduating year. You won’t do nothing.’

He grunts in response.

‘Marital issues?’

‘Well, Mr Zalatz here just had his second kid, but he doesn’t want to take any leave because …’

He grumbles again.

‘I’m waiting for my turn on the Senior Administrative Council in the next two years,’ he confesses. ‘I’m shortlisted.’

>>3435478
>'Uh ... congratulations?' (Congratulate)
>'Wow, sir, that's ... you'll be one of the youngest Instructors to make it if you do.' (Impressed [Knowledge])
>'Sounds like a lot of work.' (Sympathy)
>Write-In

>>3435484
>>'Uh ... congratulations?' (Congratulate)

>>3435484
>'Wow, sir, that's ... you'll be one of the youngest Instructors to make it if you do.' (Impressed [Knowledge])

>>3435484
>'Uh ... congratulations?' (Congratulate)
>I can understand your conflict.

>>3435484
>>'Uh ... congratulations?' (Congratulate)
>>'Wow, sir, that's ... you'll be one of the youngest Instructors to make it if you do.' (Impressed [Knowledge])

>>3435484
>Impressed

>>3435484
>'Uh ... congratulations?' (Congratulate)
>'Wow, sir, that's ... you'll be one of the youngest Instructors to make it if you do.' (Impressed [Knowledge])

File: Heyo It's Ya Boy Ryo.jpg (9 KB, 190x266)

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You’re actually quite impressed.

‘If you make it … you’ll be one of the youngest Instructors to be on the Council,’ you point out. ‘I think about half of the council is approaching three digits.’

He grunts his acknowledgement.

‘Um, sorry to cut in,’ Ryosuke sounds out, his voice underlining his confusion, ‘but what’s the Senior Administrative Council?’

‘Hm,’ Orbyn snorts, gesturing to you. ‘Well, what is the Council, soldier?’

You’re too eager to play the teacher’s pet.

‘Rhysode’s Administrative Council is a branch of administration extended by The Aegis to the Specialist Academy, in charge of dictating the course of curricula, access and exposure, essentially taking the role of a University Superintendent, but on the scale of military organization, only without proper authority to sign off on engagements. The Administrative Council’s divided into two further Councils, the Senior Council and the Junior Council. Chancellor Tomasso has a seat on the Senior Council for as long as he has tenure, while the Rhysode’s Watch Commanders are given honorary seat on the Junior Council. This is the same for every world that has a Specialist Academy of the Aegis on their books.

‘The Junior Council deals in more immediate and direct concerns of domestic ordinance, like … you know, when we were given those patrol hours and the like. Organizing those in tandem with Rhysode’s day-to-day stuff. The Senior Administrative Council is the one that organizes anything external or … I don’t know how else to put this, extraordinary discussions in regards to the Academy’s direction, specialities or affiliations with direct military exercises, if we’re talking about Codra or … Honstern, if I got that second one right.’

‘Heighstern,’ Orbyn corrects you, ‘but on the money, soldier.’

Zalatz snorts. ‘Yeah, well … I’m being considered for Senior Council, yeah. They gave me the notice about eight standard months back.’

‘It’ll be a great boost for his career,’ Orbyn comments off-handedly, the sarcasm as subtle as a heat-axe to the skull. ‘Big move. Politically-motivated, but not without purpose. Definitely, yes.’

‘I’m right here.’

‘These shortlist considerations usually last five years,’ Orbyn counters. ‘You going to keep this up for five years? How old’s Beckett now? Four standard?’

‘Six,’ he clarifies in irritation. ‘And I’m doing this—’

‘You’re going to get addicted to Malduna Leaf and die and no one’s going to get anything from you but an exhausted corpse,’ Orbyn mentions pointedly.

‘Yeesh, Malduna Leaf … I remember when that was illegal.’

You stare at Ryosuke.

‘Hey, I was an orphan,’ Ryosuke defends himself. ‘It’s eat or be eaten!’