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

[letitallout]

Aila stays at the port for a while longer, noticing the red-orange glow of a minor eruption through a break in the clouds. Bad day for someone's tribe...but not theirs, she hopes. It's not her problem anymore regardless. After a moment, she follows Aleifr, settling back into her own seat beside his and watching with affectionate amusement as he works on the already gleaming and razor-sharp edge of his axe. "Oh? Has it gotten blunted since this morning?"

[aleifr]

Aleifr glances up, snorts, and rolls his eyes. For a moment, as his attention goes back to his axe, it looks as if that's all she's going to get as a response. But, after another scrape of his whetstone, he speaks.

"The fuck else am I supposed to do?"

He lifts up his axe towards the dim light strips recessed into the ceiling of the hold.

"My axe, your aim." He says, turning the axe around to inspect it. "That's what's been promised to her."

Evidently satisfied he lowers his axe back across his lap.

"Leave a good impression with that, figure out whatever else an offworld thane expects from her huscarls when we deal with it."

[letitallout]

Now that she knows such a thing exists, they'll have to pry the bolt pistol out of Aila's cold, dead hands, and she drums her fingers absently on the butt when Aleifr mentions her specialty.

"Steinar says most offworld warriors couldn't best a beardless boy from his tribe. That Fenris would kill all but a few of their finest within a day." Aila shrugs and shakes her head, pursing her lips. It's incredible to her, the thought of worlds upon worlds as soft as that. "If that's what she thinks a mortal warrior is, she might not know what to expect."

[aleifr]

Aleifr snorts again.

"You think an agent of the Allfather's will is going to surround herself with milksops?"

He doesn't doubt Steinar's right, but he's sure there have to be some offworlders worth a fuck in a fight.

[letitallout]

"Why would she need us if she already had warriors worth a damn?"

It doesn't make sense to her, either, but why come to Fenris if you didn't want something you couldn't get anywhere else?

[aleifr]

"You're going to lose warriors in battle no matter how good they are."

You could be big as a thunderwolf, strong as an ox, and fast as the wind itself, but enough whoresons with axes and guns against you and eventually those things don't matter. Whether you get tired or they get lucky, it happens.

"Besides," He shrugs. "I just said they weren't useless, not that we weren't better."

[letitallout]

It's Aila's turn to snort. "Fair point."

She sighs and shifts in her seat, her knuckles brushing the bulkhead behind them as she stretches her arms above her head.

"I imagine she can handle herself." What with being the Allfather's chosen and all. That's not a job anyone gets if they can't win their fair share of fights.

[aleifr]

"I imagine you're right." He nods. "But the Allfather himself made Russ and his brothers to wage war among the stars."

In plainer terms, even people of immense power have warriors underneath them, ready to aid in their battles.

[letitallout]

"We're a bit of a step down from that," Aila says with a chuckle, but she she takes his point. "Ah, well. We'll just have to take things as they come. If we weren't worthy of the honor, Jarl Ironwolf would have chosen someone else."

[aleifr]

"I know."

Whether or not they were worthy was never in question to him. Short of the brothers of the Rout, he'd take the two of them against just about anyone on Fenris.

He'd still like to know more of what's expected of them, though.

"Docking with the Arbiter Elegantiae in two minutes." The pilot's voice echoes from the cockpit.

[letitallout]

Minutes. Aila still isn't entirely accustomed to such small divisions of time, or such precise ones, but two of them isn't long at all.

She fishes around in her own storage compartment for her own axes, smaller, single-handed weapons that she can switch out quickly for a pistol or a rifle. Sharpshooter she may be, but Aila is not about to insult her new thane by appearing before her without an axe. She buffs out a smudge with her sleeve, decides that's good enough, and rises to clip them to their mountings on her back, the harness grabbing them of its own accord. Attempted explanations by their trainers notwithstanding, she's still not quite sure what a magnet is, but she's also not complaining about how useful they are.

[aleifr]

Aleifr grunts out a curse under his breath and moves to do the same. His arsenal's a little less extensive - his axe, a bolt pistol, and a pair of wicked, long-bladed knive - and he has everything in the appropriate holster or 'magnetic' mounting in short order.

He throws a glance up in the direction of the cockpit. There's a sliver of the pilot's viewport visible from where he sits. He can see the Inquisitor's ship. It's too far to make out details, but ...

"Not as big as the Jarl's barge." He says, brow furrowing because that's ... unexpected, to him.

[letitallout]

"Hmm?" Aila looks up from checking the safety on her autorifle, following Aleifr's gaze to the cockpit.

"The Jarl brings a lot of tanks with him," she points out. "Maybe the Inquisitor likes lighter units."

[aleifr]

He'll concede that with a small shrug. Entirely possible the Inquisitor prefers to run light.

"Still seems small."

He'd only been aboard the barge once, but the crew for the thing was ... massive. More bodies than you'd have in a hundred tribes just to man it. Only a relatively small part of the titanic bulk of the ship stored the jarl's warriors and their tools.

If the ship he was looking at was laid out the same way, it could hold maybe forty warriors. Maybe sixty if they were packed tight, with lighter equipment.

[letitallout]

"We'll see soon enough." Aila adds the rifle to her already large assortment of tools for killing things, then switches to double-checking the various knives sheathed in various places to ensure she's able to draw one from just about any position. She can get by with one or two, but why would she want to?

[aleifr]

Whereas the only thing he needs at that point is his autorifle, which he'll slap onto it's magnetic mount before giving his armor one final once-over.

Everything seems in order, and the pilot's voice comes in from the cockpit again. "Final approach."

Aleifr feels the shuttle lurch slightly as it begins to decelerate.

"Five, four, three, two ..."

He can see the cavernous interior of the hangar outside the rear viewport as the shuttle arrests its momentum and drops to the deck with a commendably smooth touchdown. The seals on the rear hatch pop with a pneumatic hiss and the ramp begins to lower ...

[letitallout]

...revealing a single man of about Aila's height, dark-haired and stocky of build, wearing robes embroidered with the staff and serpent sigil of a medicae. When he sees the pair starting down the ramp, his expression switches from the neutrality of waiting to a friendly smile.

"The newest additions to our merry band." He spreads his hands in an expansive gesture. "Welcome aboard the Arbiter Elegantiae. I'm Doctor Henry McCoy, in charge of information both profound and trivial, and of keeping you battle-ready sorts in more or less one piece."

Aila's so taken aback by his manner she almost misses that he's speaking flawless juvyk. "Your juvyk is very good," she says, in lieu of what the hell.

[aleifr]

"Yes," Aleifr agrees, blinking in surprise. "It is."

Good enough that, if Aleifr couldn't see that the man was pretty definitively not Fenrisian, he wouldn't have been able to tell by his voice. He's never heard an offworlder speak juvyk without tripping over some of the longer words like an infant or some outlandish accent, but this one speaks it like his mother tongue.

What the fucking hell indeed.

Surprise doesn't waylay Aleifr long though, and he takes a step forward.

"Aleifr Bjornsson." He says, extending a massive hand to the other man. "Of the Ascommani."

[letitallout]

"Delighted," he says as he accepts the handshake, seeming to mean it. McCoy lacks the calluses of a fighter, but his grip is firm, and his hand isn't quite as dwarfed by Aleifr's as most people's.

He turns to Aila, and before she can introduce herself, he's already launched into another mini-monologue as, instead of shaking her hand, he holds it in his own like it's something fragile, bowing to her while he talks.

"And you must be Aila Egillsdottir, or is Steady-Hand better? The sources contradict each other as to whether the patronymic or the epithet is preferred, and I'm afraid the Inquisitor's Space Wolf acquaintances aren't really the sort who give much thought to clearing up cross-cultural misunderstandings like that."

Aila blinks, and McCoy earns the distinction of being one of the few people who's ever put her at a loss for words. "An earned name is better than a birth one, usually," she says after a moment.

"Entirely logical," he says with a nod, smile brightening. "Well, then, Aleifr Bjornsson and Aila Steady-Hand, let's not keep the Inquisitor waiting. She's a patient woman, but as a rule, it's healthier not to force her to exercise that virtue." McCoy gestures to one of the doors at the back of the hangar bay and immediately sets off, not pausing to see if they're following him.

Aila glances up at Aleifr, eyes wide. It's not too late to get back on the shuttle, apologize to Jarl Ironwolf, and accept the death sentence.

[aleifr]

She'll find him to be much more amused than shell-shocked. He's certain McCoy's manners will grate on him in time - he's not generally inclined towards people that loquacious - but it's not every day he sees his wife's silver tongue turned to lead. Quite the bit of sorcery, that.

He chuckles quietly, claps a hand on her shoulder and starts walking.

The interior of the Arbiter is ... different from the Jarl's ships. Neater. No pelts, no trophies, nothing to show the ship's history or the honor the warriors aboard it ... all those little questions about what they'd be dealing with drift back to the forefront of his mind as he looks around. There's no effort to disguise his curiosity as he walks behind McCoy.

[letitallout]

Traitor, she mouths before Aleifr turns away.

McCoy doesn't need a second party to keep up a conversation--or to pay much attention to where he's going, apparently--and soon Aleifr and Aila are privy to the knowledge that the Arbiter was commissioned on the Forge World Iviora shortly before the planet suffered a Tau invasion, which came as such things always do with a distressing uptick in heretical thought, making the lady's return in an Inquisitorial Cruiser to accept delivery a fortunate coincidence.

"When the Liberation Fleet got there, they were surprised to discover it was all over but the cleanup," he says with a chuckle, "but the Lord Admiral was a good sport about it."

"Ah," says Aila.

"Something on your mind, Aleifr?" McCoy seems to be paying attention to his audience after all.

[aleifr]

An accusation he responds to with a wink over his shoulder as they start walking, before the endless torrent of unfamiliar names and places begins.

Aleifr doesn't pay too much attention to most of it. He's too busy staring at the intricate carvings and decorations on the archways overhead until hearing his own name snaps him out of it.

"Hm?" He asks, momentarily confused before his brain processes the question and he asks the first question that comes to mind: "The hell is a 'Tau'?"

[letitallout]

"Ah, you're unfamiliar with our rabble-rousing neighbors?" Something about McCoy's delivery shifts, becoming a lecture rather than a chat.

"The Tau are a short-lived xenos species native to the Eastern Fringe, believed to have achieved sapience within the last six to seven millennia. The race consists of five biologically-determined castes, grossly humanoid though too divergent to pass as abhuman, with grayish-blue skin, cloven feet, and olfactory organs in the mouth. Their society espouses a heretical philosophy known as 'the Greater Good,' which, sadly, has been known to spread to nearby Imperium worlds with inadequate Naval presence. They are both expansionist and technologically advanced, generally requiring what can initially seem to be a disproportionate response based on their numbers. They are also strategically-minded and intolerant of instability, tending to withdraw if they perceive the cost of a campaign to exceed its anticipated return."

Again, like a switch flipping, McCoy's demeanor changes, and he's back to his personable self. "Not the worst out there by any measure, but a damnable nuisance." He shakes his head. "If they get to Ultramar, they're in for a rude surprise."

[aleifr]

There's a lot of words in that explanation that go well over Aleifr's head, but he understands enough of it to get the general meaning: aliens and enemies of the Allfather.

Good to put a name and vague description of them. He prefers to know his enemy - a trait born out from living on a planet where surprises are usually fatal.

Of course, he won't express that at any length. Instead of a response that in any way echoes McCoy's lecture, Aleifr nods with an affirmative grunt.

"Will we be killing them, then?"

[letitallout]

It's McCoy's turn to blink, and Aila snorts. Her husband is a simple soul.

"Anything's possible," McCoy admits, "but the Tau are confined to a few systems far at the edge of the Imperium, and the Inquisitor doesn't generally go looking for xenos if she can help it."

Aila frowns at that, because what's an Inquisitor do if not hunt down and kill the Allfather's enemies? McCoy notices and chuckles.

"Ordo Hereticus, Aila. 'The Threat Within.' She specializes in rogue psykers and Chaos cults." He pauses and shrugs. "Though that does mean a lot of genestealers. Telling a Chaos cult from a Genestealer cult is more an art than a science, at least until you've got a Purestrain trying to slice you in half. That's a bit of a giveaway."