From Kaerls to Huscarls.

[aleifr]

Aleifr's fingers flexed a little as the shuttle began to rumble with the thrum of it's engines, digging into his harness as he felt the thing lift off the ground. He still wasn't used to this. Even after months of serving the Rout and seeing the wonders that they had at their disposal, riding in the belly of one of their flying ships still made him vaguely uneasy - at least until they'd hit the point where they were flying smoothly.

Once they were, he unbuckled the harness strapping him into his seat and made his way to the viewport at the back of the ship. Thick, white clouds filled up most of the view, but he could see little scraps of Fenris through the gaps. Mountains, ice, braces of pine trees and the endless expanse of Asaheim. As they climbed, the details grew harder to make out and his perpetual scowl deepened.

He was grateful to Jarl Ironwolf for the honor he'd given him - him and Aila both. He'd be a fucking idiot not to considering he's to be serving one of the Allfather's agents directly ... but it was strange to think that he might not see this place again. Their world. Their home. He didn't like that thought.

But his jarl had given him a task, and he'd see it through.

Comments

[aleifr]

Considering how many things McCoy had said as though he'd just assumed they'd know it? He's somewhat surprised the question wasn't asked sooner.

"Eight months." He answers. "But you'll not find a better shot than Aila."

[letitallout]

"Oh, I don't doubt the Space Wolves' training regimen or Lord Ironwolf's judgment, but you've got a lot of catching up to do," McCoy says as the lift stops and the door slides open. "Inquisitor's quarters. This deck's invitation only."

Speaking of intruder control, the door opens onto a hallway with a single door at the other end, quite obviously a well-decorated kill zone, at least to Fenrisian eyes, and Aila wonders just what's concealed behind the walls. Resisting the urge to draw her weapons, she reminds herself this is friendly territory, but her survival instincts aren't buying it despite the Imperial Aquila she's walking past, and she's as taut as a drawn bow as she follows McCoy.

[aleifr]

He's not doing much differently. His stonefaced expression hides whatever he's feeling well enough, but someone who's known him as long as Aila has?

He's tense. He can feel the hungry, predatory eyes of a dozen hidden gunports prickling on the back of his neck. It makes sense. He expects as much from someone that important ... but it makes him uneasy as he stalks behind McCoy.

[letitallout]

Aila tosses Aleifr a tight little smile, almost a grimace, but McCoy's back to not noticing or pretending not to notice the Fenrisians' odd behavior. Despite feeling like leagues, the corridor's not particularly long, and it's only a few heartbeats--seconds, she corrects herself mentally--before they reach the door at the far end, embossed with an enormous, elaborate Inquisitorial I and skull.

McCoy reaches for the intercom panel on the wall, but before his hand makes it halfway, the door opens of its own accord, splitting down the middle and revealing a thickness that suggests a great deal of armoring.

"All right, then," he mutters with an air of long-suffering resignation, and steps through into an antechamber with seating and a pair of servitors, seemingly unarmed, standing idle on either side of yet another door. That one also opens as they approach, but McCoy doesn't appear taken aback this time, and pauses to throw a significant look over his shoulder at them.

This is it, then. Squaring her shoulders, Aila takes a deep breath and, dignity be damned, reaches out to give Aleifr's hand a squeeze before stepping through--

--into winter. Or at least that's her first impression, quickly dispelled when she realizes the temperature hasn't changed. It's an understandable mistake, since the only other times she's ever been surrounded by this much unstained white were when snow blanketed everything. After a moment, she starts to notice other things about the room--the icy pastels here and there that break up the sea of white, the carpeting so thick her boots are sinking into it, the furniture that looks like nothing she's ever seen before with its plush cushions and frames carved in graceful, botanical forms. She catches movement out of the corner of her eye--a mirror, the glass absolutely flat and flawless--and manages not to startle. McCoy strides on like he doesn't notice any of it, and maybe he doesn't after serving the Inquisitor for years.

Once they move farther into the room, their destination becomes obvious. The armchair doesn't quite qualify as a throne in itself, but it's positioned alone against a wall, other pieces of furniture subtly but unmistakably marking off the area approaching it, and the entire affair feels like a throne room. All Aila can see is what might be an elbow on the arm of the chair until McCoy leads them around one of the sofas, into the reception area they delineate, and she gets her first glimpse of Inquisitor Frost...

...who is the most beautiful woman Aila has ever seen, and dressed like she knows it.

Aila almost forgets to kneel.

[aleifr]

Aleifr doesn't. That sort of beauty doesn't belong to anyone. It belongs to a goddess, someone more than human. Dealing with someone like that, kneeling's the only response appropriate.

He might hesitate for a moment, eyes lingering out of sheer awe, but he kneels.

"Inquisitor Frost."

He bows his head. Mostly out of respect, partially to stop his gawking.

"I am Aleifr Bjornsson of the Ascommani."

[letitallout]

Like Aleifr, Aila finds it easier not to stare like the yokel she is when her gaze falls somewhere around the Inquisitor's feet. With those shoes, Frost must be superhuman to avoid breaking her ankles.

"I am Aila Steady-Hand, also of the Ascommani." Her name sounds odd to her translated into Gothic, the syllables of the language still awkward on her tongue, but the jarl had stressed that the Inquisition wouldn't use juvyk. McCoy's unexpected fluency aside, Aila's not about to risk it with the Inquisitor.

Frost shifts in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. "Showing off, Henry?" she says in Gothic, apropos of nothing as far as Aila can tell, but sounding amused.

McCoy, who hasn't knelt, starts off puzzled. "Inquisitor, I don't--oh." There's the rustle of fabric as he shifts his weight. "Just being hospitable," he says, unapologetic about whatever they're discussing, and Frost snorts.

"I speak juvyk," she says in juvyk, her accent as impeccable as McCoy's, "but yes, Gothic is preferable," she finishes in Gothic once more, and it's a good thing Aila's already kneeling with her head bowed, because it keeps her from having to sit down hard when she realizes her thoughts were overheard. It's one thing to reason that the Allfather's highest-ranking servants would be powerful gothi but another entirely to have it so casually demonstrated, and she inhales sharply in her shock.

"Y-yes, Inquisitor." Aila gets it out with a minimum of stuttering but doesn't even attempt to conceal her awe.

"Thank you, Henry," Frost says, the dismissal clear.

"Inquisitor." McCoy's clothes rustle again as he bows from the waist. "Aila, Aleifr, nice to meet you." He doesn't wait for a reply, which is just as well on Aila's end, because it doesn't occur to her to acknowledge anyone but Frost. His barely-audible footsteps and the sound of his robes swishing recede towards the door through which they'd entered.

Frost shifts again, retrieving something from a side table that Aila can't see with her eyes lowered. "The carpet can't be that compelling."

[aleifr]

Aleifr's head is already up at that point. He'd looked up, brow furrowed in confusion, when Frost confirmed that gothic was preferable because that sounded like a response - as though she was replying to something. Then Aila gasps, the shock carries through in her voice, and he puts it together.

It isn't often that Aila sees her husband's jaw drop, but she'll see it now.

Frost's voice calls his attention to her once again, and it actually takes conscious effort to suppress the instinct to bow his head again to address her.

"We are honored to be in your service, Inquisitor." Aleifr says. Gothic hasn't come as easily to him as it has for Aila, and he stumbles momentarily on the word 'service' before it comes to him.

[letitallout]

Aleifr speaking up gives Aila the time she needs to scrape together her courage and tear her gaze away from the floor in obedience to the implicit command. Frost hasn't gotten any less attractive since they walked in, and Aila doesn't dare attempt to meet her eyes, settling for a spot between the tip of the nose and upper lip which strikes her as probably the most unremarkable spot on a goddess's face and thus the safest. Frost is drinking something dark red from a fragile-looking crystalline goblet, and she swirls the liquid around the bowl while she looks at Aleifr and Aila.

"And I'm pleased to have you," Frost replies with a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Egil speaks highly of you both," she adds, and Aila experiences a flash of confusion before she remembers her deceased father and Jarl Ironwolf share a name. Somehow, she'd have been less surprised to discover the Inquisitor had talked with the honored dead than that anyone's on a first-name basis with the jarl.

She's in no condition to properly appreciate the compliment that Frost's just relayed, but it needs a reply, and it's not fair to force Aleifr to do the talking. What Aila can't manage on her own account, she can for him, and she pulls herself together.

"We will justify the jarl's faith in us, my lady." Or die trying, but it doesn't occur to her that part would ever need to be spelled out.

"I don't doubt it." Frost seems amused. Aila's not sure why, but that's much better than annoyed, and she'll take it. Frost sets her glass back on the table and gestures for them to rise. "We've got to get you some better armor," she says, shaking her head.

[aleifr]

Amused is better, but the small curl of a smile on her lips is ... distracting. He doesn't realizes, but he winds up adopting a similar tactic to Aila - find an unremarkable spot, difficult as that might be.

The Inquisitor gestures for them to rise and Aleifr does so.

It's strange for him to think of the uniforms that he and Aila wear now as unfitting. You didn't find fabric so fine or so well-woven among the tribes - at least not without seeking out the richest chieftains on Fenris. You wouldn't find something so fine that still manage to incorporate some amount of armor into it at all outside of the Aett.

But compared to Frost and the finery around her? They seemed like rags. Less-than.

"If that pleases my thane."

[letitallout]

"You're not Guardsmen. I'll not have you wandering about in mass-produced flak armor." Aila recognizes that as annoyance, but it's mild and seems to be directed at the situation rather than Aleifr. Frost waves a hand dismissively, consigning their Kaerl's armor to irrelevance, and ends the gesture by tapping a brooch affixed to her corset. "Bridge."

"Yes, Inquisitor?" The voice emanates from the jewelry piece, and Aila makes the mistake of glancing down at the source, immediately regretting the action when it strikes her just how low-cut the Inquisitor's top is, and just how perfectly she fills it out.

Well. Regret is the wrong word, but Aila certainly finds herself distracted.

"What's the nearest Forge World that doesn't supply Fenris primarily?" Frost asks, glancing at a servo skull that comes whirring into the room and glides over to hover in front of Aleifr at chest height.

"One moment...Voss Prime."

"Convenient." Frost's businesslike expression shifts into a real smile for a moment. "Call ahead, tell them to prepare two suits of Ignatus armor to the measurements I'll provide. Have Peri make the communique sufficiently bland and mechanical before you send it out."

"Yes, Inquisitor. Shall we use the Longhowl choir?"

"No, let's not impose on the Wolves' generosity any further. Ruth can handle it."

"As you wish."

"Out." Frost taps the brooch again and addresses Aleifr, pointing a warning finger at him. "Hold still."

Before he can acknowledge the order or request clarification, the lens set into one of the skull's eye sockets illuminates and a beam of red light plays over him, scanning slowly from his head to his feet. Aila suddenly finds herself distracted by something other than the Inquisitor's obvious assets, watching whatever's happening to Aleifr in silent but wide-eyed consternation.

[aleifr]

Aleifr had taken a step back when the servo-skull flew up to him. He doesn't like the things, he thinks they're fucking macabre, but he stays put when Frost orders him to do so ...

Though it isn't exactly easy for him. When the thing's big glass eye began to glow red he nearly drew his bolt pistol to defend himself, but the beam it fired at him didn't do anything - at least not that he could feel. Alarm lapses into confusion, then into curiosity as his tensed shoulders begin to relax.

He doesn't voice the question, but he's sure the Inquisitor heard it nonetheless - provided she didn't see it in his eyes: what is this?

[letitallout]

Aila relaxes as she sees Aleifr do so, and turns back to Frost just in time to catch the Inquisitor watching him with an intent, evaluating expression. It disappears into one of mild interest almost before Aila's even sure what she saw, and Frost cocks her head as she continues to look at Aleifr.

"It's a scanner. The Mechanicus will need your measurements to fit your new armor properly." The skull abandons Aleifr and floats over to Aila, though for the life of her she can't figure out how the Inquisitor's controlling it, and now Frost's looking at her. "Your turn."

Aleifr had the harder task, but even though she knows it won't hurt her, not shying away from the thing isn't what Aila would call easy, either. Her vision goes red as the light sweeps across her eyes, leaving an afterimage that seems darken the room, and Aila discovers she'd been holding her breath. Its job done, the skull floats over to Frost to hang by the side of her chair, its glassy false eyes black and staring.

"There, that's sorted," Frost says, satisfied, and picks up her goblet again. Aila thinks a drink sounds like a really good idea right about now, and Frost smirks at her over the rim of the glass, which Aila would find infuriating if it weren't coming from an Inquisitor who happens to be both her thane and gorgeous. Instead, she's going to call any kind of smile a win. If Frost has a reaction to that thought, it's hidden as she drinks.

[aleifr]

If she looks over to Aleifr, Aila'll see him watching her, even though he knows the beam is harmless.

Then, the skull flutters back to Frost's side and he's left with no other choice but to look at her. It's ... difficult not to appreciate the site of her - and the smirk playing across her lips - entirely more than is appropriate. He tries not to, but he's sure she's picked up some trace of it.

"What comes next?" He asks. "Once we've got this armor?"

In short, how may we serve you?

[letitallout]

Whatever the Inquisitor might be picking up, she's choosing not to reveal it, but Aila knows what she herself is thinking, which means Aleifr's probably thinking roughly the same thing unless this all has him staggered much worse than he's showing.

"You both have a great deal to learn about the galaxy," Frost replies, "and I'm sure Fenrisians appreciate that ignorance is as lethal as a bolter round."

Aila nods, because it's obviously true even if McCoy's impenetrable explanations hadn't already driven the point home. "How can we correct our ignorance, Inquisitor?"

Frost laughs, having an effect equally distracting and pleasant on the parts of her anatomy that Aila is currently trying to ignore. "That's a more complicated question than you realize...which is part of the problem, isn't it?" Her nails click as she drums her fingers against her glass. "Keep asking questions, even the complicated ones. ...Especially the complicated ones."

[aleifr]

Aleifr bows his head sightly. "We will."

Her laughter has the same effect on him - warm and heady.

"We know there's ... much outside of Fenris." He says, his awkward unfamiliarity with Low Gothic rearing it's head again. "We will recognize mistakes and be sure to correct them."

It's a fine line - acknowledging one's lack of knowledge without making yourself seem uselessly ignorant, but that's the line he's attempting to find in his tenuous grasp of Gothic.

Talking to McCoy proved that there's worlds of information they've got no clue about. He won't pretend otherwise because his thane deserves his complete honesty. But he'll never give her anything less than his utmost.

[letitallout]

Frost smiles again, the expression amused in a way Aila can't see a reason for. "No thane could ask for more."

She uncrosses her legs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, glass held loosely in both hands, a casual posture that surprises Aila even as it challenges her to keep her eyes where they should be.

"I'm sure you've talents beyond the martial, and I plan to make use of them," Frost says, not helping Aila's focus, especially when Frost pauses to shoot her an exasperated look before continuing, "but you're here because I want warriors. If there's anything you need to that end, tangible or intangible, you've only to tell me."

Since she hasn't been yelled at, Aila assumes the Inquisitor isn't too annoyed about her wandering thoughts, but she doesn't want to make a bad impression by being so distracted she can't do her job. "If there are others with you who know the best ways to fight the sorts of traitors or creatures we'll be facing, it would be good to speak with them," Aila says. See, she's paying attention.

"Logan." Frost nods. "Tell Henry to introduce you."

[aleifr]

He's grateful for the shift in topic. It gives him something to focus on and stops his mind from wandering away with the thoughts about just how the Inquisitor might best make use of him. Keeps his eyes where they're supposed to be instead of where they want to be.

"Logan." He nods, committing the name to memory. "We'll seek him out."

[letitallout]

"Have him focus on psykers and Genestealers. Nothing else we run into regularly is likely to give you much trouble." Frost looks smug about that, which in turn makes Aila feel smug.

"You will, however, find the Imperium beyond Fenris challenging in other ways," she continues, no longer smug and fixing each of them with her gaze in turn. "Your Inquisition credentials will help smooth over misunderstandings, but I expect you to be patient in the face of things that seem unreasonable or even insulting."

Aila thinks that's a very long-winded way to say don't embarrass me, but that's Frost's prerogative, and she bows her head to acknowledge the instructions. "Yes, Inquisitor."

[aleifr]

It is hard not to feel a little surge of pride at that acknowledgement, isn't it?

But when Frost grows serious, so does he. This was a conversation he'd been expecting. In his limited experience with offworlders, they've often demonstrated a love of making things more complicated than it needs to be.

But he has every intention of following her orders. She's his thane. He's here to serve her, not make her life harder.

"Yes, Inquisitor." He echoes.

[letitallout]

Frost nods, satisfied, and leans back in her chair. "You'll have a few days to settle in while we're en route to Voss. Get a tour, raid the armory, that sort of thing." She waves a hand to suggest she doesn't care what they do with their free time.

"Armory?" Aila echoes hopefully before she can catch herself, and Frost snorts.

"Are you sure you have room for anything else?" Frost asks rhetorically, looking Aila up and down. "But yes, armory. The Quartermaster will give you anything you want. Within reason. Ask Logan for ideas. If we don't have it aboard we'll pick it up from the Mechanicus."

[aleifr]

Offworlders haven't earned his unqualified confidence in much, but the technology they've built and the weapons they've forged? That has impressed him consistently, and the thought of having limitless access to it?

He likes that. He likes that quite a fucking bit judging by the grin peering out from under his thick beard.

"Thank you, Inquisitor."

[letitallout]

Frost looks ready to speak, then shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink instead. "I was about to say 'see if you still feel grateful when you're neck deep in Genestealers,' but then I remembered who I'm talking to."

She sighs, levity dying away, and Aila could swear the Inquisitor's solemnity is shading over into exhaustion. "You're agents of the Inquisition now. It's not always thrill-seeking nobles and iota psykers, and when it isn't, you'll need every advantage I can give you."

"Inquisitor, we--" About to reassure her that there's no threat they won't face for her, Aila stops when Frost holds up a hand.

"Do either of you have questions?" Frost changes the subject, and their audience seems to be drawing to an end.

[aleifr]

"No, my thane." Aleifr shakes his head. "Not now, at least."

That might change in the future - Aleifr has no way of knowing what tomorrow will hold considering he didn't even know what a genestealer was before an hour ago - but for the moment, he's satisfied.

He's got nothing to ask, but Aila might, so he turns to her.

[letitallout]

Aila shakes her head, but it's because she has so many questions she can't narrow it down and has no way to tell what's too trivial to bother the Inquisitor with.

"No, my lady, but...I don't know what I don't know." It's not a state of affairs she likes or plans to admit to anyone else, but their thane has a right to know their weaknesses as well as their strengths. Frost raises her eyebrows, looking faintly surprised but pleased, but doesn't explain why.

"Not a permanent state of affairs, Aila," she says, almost sounding friendly, but while Aila's trying to figure out what she did to deserve that and how she can repeat the performance as often as possible, Frost shifts back to a matter-of-fact demeanor. "That's all for now, but you may contact me at any time you feel it necessary."

Aila doesn't need to have it spelled out that they will not enjoy the resulting chat if Frost doesn't agree with the necessity. She bows in response to the dismissal, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment, which she supposes makes sense, because Frost's presence is a mixture of intimidating and intoxicating. "Inquisitor."

[aleifr]

She isn't the only one feeling that little pang of disappointment that they won't get to linger in the Inquisitor's presence longer, but he serves at her pleasure. Aila bows her head, and so does he.

"Inquisitor."

As much as he'd like to stay, to look on her a little longer, he doesn't hesitate. He turns on his heels and exits the room, back into the unsettling hall outside her chambers that he's certain is bristling with hidden gunports.

The door closes behind them, and ... he's certain Frost can hear his thoughts still, but he lets out a sharp exhale nonetheless because he's fairly certain she'd hear him even in the furthest corner of the ship.

"Not what I expected."

But that's not a complaint. Furthest thing from it, for a whole host of reasons at that.