The bright red circle on the commander chair's right arm lit up and swirled in a circular motion. As soon as he could be bothered, the Commander lifted his lazy right hand to touch the motioning display. How dare it intrude on his slumber?
"This had better be good, Marcel." A lazy, hoarse voice uttered. In return, a slightly higher, anxiety filled voice uttered "My lord Commander, there is somebody here to -"
His voice was cut off by the abrupt opening of the large, bone white slide doors that indicated the entrance to the bridge. Two lines of eight marines barged in through, their black boots landing firmly and rapidly against the grey surface that carried them. Each marine took up position near an individual critical system and stood, silently, whilst two secured the slide doors on either side. Their all white uniforms only broken by the singular blue sash across their chest. The commander himself rose in surprise and grave irritation, his mind as clueless to the situation as his body would be to the word "healthy", the signs of a wasteful life upon his waist and chin. His mouth opened to echo the inner frustration, though was rapidly halted by the sight that came through those now opened slide doors.
A woman, simply. Her features betraying her forties to come, joined by a uniform as eager to betray her position. The overall pattern unmistakably of Royal High Command origin. Her boots as black as tar paving way for ivory white standard issue pants that found themselves under a two coloured blouse. A singular blue slice from her left hip to her midriff joined the otherwise fully white scheme. On her blue collar, two golden laurels on either side to indicate her rank. Her golden coloured ceremonial lanyard partially clouded beneath her shoulder length red hair, casually resting on her right shoulder. Her eyes moved across the bridge, calmly, as if to scan across the curious though nervous crew for any signs of imperfection. They probably were doing just that. After a period of several long, silent moments, the commander had finally gathered the remnants of his courage and spoke, hesitantly.
W-wha-who.. Who are you? What are you doing aboard my ship?
In response to these words bravely uttered, the woman flicked her fingers on the right hand and pointed to the ball of courage made Human. The marine stood to her right by the door approached in silence. The assault rifle held in his hands swing round onto his back, fastened by a synthetic belt. A simple pair of handcuffs were conjured into place of the weapon before they, not too delicately, flung around the pair of wrists being forced together. Marine and pig then proceeded towards the slide doors under heavy squealing and protest before vanishing into the descending corridor. The woman moved, finally, at the smell of cleaner air.
A casual stride took her further onto the oval bridge. She neared the chair only to left it ignored in the center, her eyes on another target a few steps further down. She greeted the circular, three dimensional digital map of the sector she found herself in by placing both her hands on the familiar railings. They moved over them in what could best be described as a caress brought fourth from admiration and awe before her eyes then proceeded to dart around the room. The iron features turned from one station to the next, then the next, then the next.
"Chant Du Cygne systems check." She spoke, simply. Her gaze turned to helms, navigation, communication and tactical. In turn, reports of "all green" were given, though her features remained unchanged. Unimpressed. The hesitant speakers awaited in visible nerves for any and all words to follow.
"Lay in a course for Ile de France, then broadcast the following message to all Royal Naval forces. Message begins : Troops and supporters of his majesty, King Charles, the eleventh of his name. I, Grand Marshall LaCroix of his mailed fist, hereby call you to New Paris to be briefed on a our new approach and outlook on all in sight. In twenty four hours time, I will be addressing you personally. Be sure to attend. Message end, and send.
Her eyes closed upon confirmation, not out of fatigue, but expectation. The beast beneath her feet began to move, no, not move. Roar. The alloys beneath roared in fury as they once more carried purpose made physical. She could feel it, almost as if she had never left. After that brief, though personally deep moment of reunion, her eyes opened and turned back on the three dimensional map in front of her.
The message terminal at the Panthere's brigde beeped, just as it always did when a new message arrived. Most of the messages arriving lately have been congratulations on the success she brought to war effort since Pauline had returned to her command. But this one was different, an order directly from the flagship, from LaCroix, ignoring this one would have been impossible.
The order was clear, the reasoning behind it wasnt, but it was not hers to judge about these things, she was there to follow the orders given by the King and the Grand Marechal.
With a short "Set course to the capital" the heavy cruiser started to move back into the core systems, just to arrive there a few hours later.
She left the ship soon after her arrival, heading straight to the room that always appeared to have been LaCroix most favorite one.
Ansel Xavier had spent too much time at the Hospital.
The assassination attempt was not a couple of months past, but he'd only recently recieved a discharge to return to active duty. The injuries he'd sustained in that firefight, in the Royal Palace itself had not been life-threatening, mostly sharpnel wounds and bullet that had scraped his shoulder. Oddly enough however, the injuries had festered far longer than they should have. Doctors were unable to pinpoint why...Ansel suspected it was because of factors the Doctors did not need to know.
He'd suspected that driving himself beyond endurance would have detrimental effects, but he'd not expected the onset to be so...sudden. The world seemed pale and wan, and he felt weaker than he had in a long time.
All in the name of the King, of course He thought, light sarcasm making it easier to bear. Despite his weakness, he'd decided to return to duty. Too much time had been lost due to that pathetic assassination attempt. As far as plans go, it was not anything spectacular, but they'd blindsided him for once, caught everyone involved by surprise...that was the only advantage they had.
Many of them had taken that advantage to the grave...
The officers and assorted personnel running around Navy HQ on New Paris seemed surprised to see him, relieved and...expectant?. Xavier had not expected things to hold up well, and he was interested in finding out just how bad things had become.
In his office, he began to read report after report, document after document. The front was holding surprisingly well, no major losses had been suffered by Primary or Secondary invasion fleets...Engrossed in his work, he eventually came across a transmission to all Royal Navy assets, surprisingly high priority for a wide-band transmission.
Grand Maréchal...LaCroix? Did Roux fall out of favor with the King...?
The more Xavier thought on it, the more it seemed likely. As Supreme Commander, Roux had failed spectacularly in allowing an assassination attempt on the King himself. That would not have gone well in Court...they would have demanded a scapegoat. With the rest of High Command acquitting themselves by defending the King personally, with their lives...Roux had no such protection.
He brought up personnel records and data on LaCroix, intent on finding out who this new factor was.
The LaCroix family has a long military history...capable Commander, she previously held the post, with a fair few successful offensives and counters against Council advance in Gallia. The King decided to bring an Old General back...or did she come on her own?
There were too many questions. He would have to attend this meeting to find out. Bringing up a communications console, he typed in a short response.
Quote:Maréchal Xavier here. I'm on New Paris, and will be present.
Xavier out.
Having done that, he leaned back in his chair, wondering what involvement this new piece would have. Deep within, a frantic voice struggled to voice itself, to say something. Xavier crushed every attempt by it to do so...He'd listened to it far too long in the Hospital, too weak to stop it. No more.
Valérie Quétineau was sitting in her office and was busy reading a letter she had just received from one of her doctors. The information in it were quite good, which was unexpected, and it allowed her to return to active service. She never expected to receive such a message. The silence in the room was suddenly interrupted by a guard who entered the room.
“We’ve just received an important message, Madame. You should take a look at it.” Valérie did not bother to look at him. “The message from LaCroix?” She then asked. “Oui, Madame.”
“I’ve already read it, but its content was none of my concern at that moment. But...” She stopped to talk and stored the letter in a drawer of her desk. “That has changed now. Prepare my Lynx for departure. I believe it’s time to visit the capital again.”
“It will be done. Shall I arrange an escort for you?” The man asked. “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.” She answered and watched him leaving the room. “And I told Aubert that the war ended for me...how wrong I was, I hope he’ll forgive me.” She whispered before she began to prepare herself for the travel to the capital...
The Maréchal arrived there after two hours and headed directly to the headquarters, a place she had truly missed. “So, LaCroix is back in charge. I’ve never had the chance to serve under her command. Let’s see how it’ll be.” She said before entering the building.
Planet Orleans
Emeline D'Aramis was going over paperwork in Roux's estate. The woman's wound was too close; she was in a medically induced coma thanks to the damage inflicted. And right now, she had to run the Office because King Charles decided she was best fit.
Oh goodie.
Sarcasm aside, she pushed a mountain of requested from spies around Gallia to the side and pulled forth the report on Roux. The woman was strong, had done well, but even so, the failure...
"It is not her fault the man who designed every countermeasure to stop assassination was the very man who attempted assassination." She mused to herself.
Then the intercom beeped.
"Madame D'Aramis?"
"Yes Perrine?"
"There is a message from a Lilith LaCroix has taken over as the Grande Marechal of the Gallic Royal Navy. It has seemed the claim by Joseph DeFrance at the Grande Marechal of the Royal Navy has been unacted upon and ignored by everyone. Including the King."
"What does she order?" Emeline frowned.
"All loyal soldiers and commanders to New Paris milady."
Standing, the Comte of Orleans smoothed her dress out. Dammit. "Ready my ship. I should not keep her waiting."
"Yes milady."
Within five minutes, Emeline D'Aramis was whisked away from Orleanais, heading to New Paris. What will Roux say, if she ever wakes up?
Natsumi Hideyoshi (The Order) | Alexis Hunter (Liberty Navy) |
Anton Villiers received the announcement with a silent yet broad smirk. Turning around himself and walking into the bridge of the RNS Tonnerre, where most of the Tricolore's snubcraft assets were docked and based in as well as serving as mobile HQ. There, he summoned the most diligent pilots under his command, included Claude Douffet and Quétineau's niece, Camille Delacroix. Moreover, he extended the message in a private transmission to his fellow legionnaire Baudin, as the lack of news regarding his persona and battlefield reports had left Villiers extremely concerned.
Nevertheless, LaCroix would expect her Tricolore cohort in New Paris, and thus he wasted no time ordering new course from Orkney back to the Gallic Core worlds. Plenty of names would also be new to her, but that wouldn't exclude the fact that the extensive training and dedication was still the same fore every single legionnaire.