Thread: Noblesse Obligé [Ghostwolf and Thaedael]

The high vaulted ceilings of the ballroom did little to put the veterans at ease, the space only amplifying the sound and grandiose nature of such an event. Ilya's group was no different, each of them having been received into such a gathering on merit alone, and not birthright. While the other honor guards had begun to dissolve their cliques, individually mixing and mingling with the different nobles and soldiers with whom they were more natural with, his were gathered around himself in a loose formation. The plan to cover one another, however, seemed to have back fired, as they were surrounded by the highest concentration of nobles and returning military men of noble descent. It was as a result of their close proximity to one another, that whole narratives could be woven, each member in turn taking the time to answer questions or chime in on an event or memory that they had. The soft music from the band lent a stronger atmosphere to the stories they told, which lacked any embellishment. The six veterans stood taller than the surrounding crowd, all of them cutting impressive forms against the backdrop of those who approached them. About them moved the servers of the governor's palace, upon each of their hands large trays of delicacies were laid out, always making sure that the valued guests were well taken care of, and that no plate ever ran empty, despite protests or reservations from any of the veterans. As such, the six of them stood, hands full with plate and drink, as they recounted the stories and memories of the different campaigns. It was because they were storm troopers that a lot of the questions and stories were teased out of this cadre of veterans, for it was not by birthright or merit that one was enrolled in such training. Every one of them present was an orphan of a servant of the Imperium, one who had laid their life down in the line of service, whether it be a soldier, or a victim of war. Upon being taken as a ward of the Imperium, they were brought to the Schola Progenium, where an unwavering love for the Emperor, the Imperium, and all mankind was indoctrinated into their very fiber of being. They were educated, trained, and taught to fill the most important roles in the crumbling society of humanity. Those that showed promise were enrolled into training to become storm troopers, the elite arm of the Imperial Navy. With strong bodies, and even stronger mind and willpower, they were gruelingly sifted through tougher and tougher regimes until the cream of the crop was all that remained. Clad in carapace armor, armed with hotshot hellguns, they were then formed into vast regiments of Storm Troopers. However it was rare that such a formation would remain fighting intact, for they were part of the navy and were attached to campaigns or other units as needed, and equipped to fulfill the roles required of them. They were not trained to survive a lifetime. They were not needed to survive a lifetime. Upon their backs and sacrifices was the Imperium to endure. Each one of them would carry this duty unto death, each one of them would embrace it as the highest of honors. Yet here they were, six of but a larger group that never returned. It was because of this that there was so much attention, and so many questions. As time went on faces rotated in and out, an ever constant whirling of people coming and going as the group begun to slowly break into smaller pieces, leaving each-other to fend for themselves as they were engulfed in a sea of nobles. His face was beaded with sweat, the dark reddish hair matted down under his formal uniform cap, the blue beret hanging heavily upon his brow. His green eyes were drawn tight as he turned to face the only other member of the honor guard to have managed to stay within an arm's reach. I honestly don't know how much longer I can keep telling the same story. Zacharias looked completely out of his element, perhaps it was the way in which he held himself, constantly shifting about in his uniform, or perhaps it was the fountain of sweat that continued to bead along the strands of his red hair, before dripping down his forehead, stinging his eyes. I can't even keep smiling, my face hurts. Our faces were not made to smile and pander to the wants and needs of these people. He continued to keep his voice down, lest he offend any of the nobles whom which their good grace allowed himself to gorge on the fine foods, and the never-empty tumbler of armasec he had in the other hand. Vince drew in closer, a smile on his face, until he was so close that his face was covered by the shoulder of his senior. You said you wanted to be recognized and step out from under my... Vince said, all the while with a scowl forming on his face. No I didn't he hissed under his breath. A passing noble woman stopped to look at them, before looking away, and hurrying off in another direction towards one of the... less occupied member of the retinue. No I didn't... That was what you said he whispered, this time being more cautious to keep it between the two. Well if you want to have the honors, you got to look the part. After all, hook up with one of these fine ladies, and you will be set for life. We just need to tell them one of your funny stories - Don't you even think it! Zach would have none of these, shooting glaring green eyes into the darker amber eyes of Vince. Vince didn't give two feths about what Zach thought, his eyes defying his own, a look of Is that a dare? coming across his face, a smirk forming at the sides of his mouth. As if on cue, a waitress from the staff came by, picking the plate and glass from the man, leaving him free to clasp his formal gloved hands against one another, before turning to the crowd of younger ladies that had been attending to them throughout the opening moments of the balls. So, ladies he said with a smile, before bowing once more. Who wants to hear about the time Zach here got stuck in a sleeping bag, and had to fight in a warzone in such a state? he said with a giant shit-face grin. Zach's face remained composed, but for the slightly rise eyebrow, and the tick at the side of his mouth that flickered for but a moment. So here we are, on this planet half way across the segmentum, and it was this cold winter night... The nobles gathered closer, some of the gentlemen gesturing for others to join them. Just look at him Jordan laughed to one of the gentlemen that had managed to corner him by the music stage upon which the Governor's entertainment were performing. Even from such a distance, Zach's face was a distinct red, suffering from what seemed to be the brunt of another story that had the surrounding crowds laughing to the story and gestures of Vince. You wouldn't think it, but both of those men are some of the most reliable people in the world. Even Vince seems to be put off by such a setting. he said. The man that accompanied him nodded his head in agreement. I take it that the bright-red one is reliving some rather embarrassing moments, isn't he? Yes, quite. Judging by the way my colleague over there is jumping, I presume it is the story of the time Zach got stuck in a sleeping bag and got captured by the renegades. Instead of murdering him, they though it would be wise to try and coerce some intelligence out of him. Is that so? However did he survive? the older man said, before sipping from a high rimmed glass, a deep blue liqueur swirling inside. Well, to learn about that, you better go listen. I can't do the story any justice compared to Vince Jordan said, sensing the opportunity to duck out from under the man. Well, it was a pleasure talking to you, but I must say that curiosity has gotten a hold of me. I wish for us to speak again in the near future, and please consider my offer. With that, the noblemen was off but with a bow of the head. Finally... Jordan muttered under his breath, before turning around. He barely took a step before bumping into a person that he did not see. On the floor before him was a young child, only in her early teens by his estimate. The kid took it on the chin before getting up. What happened to your leg? she asked, sensing right away that not all was as it seemed with him. Jordan knelt down to the kid, dusting her off and making sure that she was alright, before answering. I got hurt a long time ago, and now I have this cool robot leg he said, trying to diffuse the situation without scaring the little kid. He lifted the pant leg of his formal uniform, the dark navy fabric giving way to a sliver of silver bionics. The little kid's face was aglow in wonderment. How did you get hurt? she asked in return, before placing a hand on it to feel it. An older lady came rushing through a part in the crowd, before picking up the child in a sweeping motion, holding her tight to her bosom. Honey, we don't go asking people that kind of question she said lightly, in a tone that suggested the child had done something wrong. No it's quite alright, you see, I... ...Ilya? John simply stated. He had managed to get herded to the edge of the ballroom, under the large arches that held the tiered balconies above his head. He was sitting in a fine velvet chair, his leg crossed against the crook of his opposite knee. He cut a stunning image the way he sat with the oldest of the gentlemen, armasec in hand, cigar in the other. He looked around to the various people, his one good eye ablaze in emotions and thoughts. The golden colored eye traced the faces around him, trying to discern how genuine of a question it had been. He brought the back of one gloved hand, rubbing at the brown beard at his chin, the cleft of his chin moving side to side as he did so in thought. Words don't really do justice to such a man. He would never admit to it, but he is a very tenacious man, a very... he stopped to think, trying to put two decades of experience into words for those that didn't know him. It's hard to describe him. He can be your best friend, and your worst friend. He looks after you, that's a given, but he is also the one to give you the hard missions. It's nothing personal, but it comes with the territory. The others looked at him in stunned silence, a look of disappointment on their faces. He commands with authority, he keeps his calm, and he does what he has to get done. He keeps himself alive, and by extension, he keeps us alive. It was the only way so many of us got out of... One of the girls leaned closer towards him, almost falling out of her chair. In the last campaign, he made an... he thought of a way to put it in a politically correct way. He made a judgement call, and it worked. It's a miracle so many of us even made it out alive. Look at Jordan over there he said, pointing with the hand that held the cigar, the ashes falling upon the marble floor of the ballroom. Made it out with just a lost leg. It may seem like such a high price to pay, but Ilya? He would tell you it's just a damn leg, that each and everyone of us... ...losing a bit of yourself there, Ilya? Victoria's voice came in a gentle tone, friendly as it had always been. She had held herself well, being the one that was at most ease in the group. She placed a hand on Ilya's shoulder, rubbing at it to break him from his day dream. They are gone now, you can breath. She cut a stunning figure in her uniform. She looked out from under the blue beret she wore upon her head, her short cropped black hair flowing out from under the fabric of the cap in an asymmetrical bob that favored her left side. Her hair was still short, having been non-existent but a year ago when they had been pulled from the field. While short, it lent itself very well to her facial symmetry, where high-set cheek bones only accented the hair style. She was positively aglow, her purple eyes catching the light from the many crystal chandeliers that hung above the pair. A simple smile was upon her face, and her cheeks a hint of rose. She leaned forward, the uniform clinging gently to her petite chest. You know, I think all this Hero of the Imperium stuff is getting to your head. You have been zoning out way too much lately she said with genuine concern on her face. It's like you are losing a part of yourself every day that goes on. He brought a glass of iced water to his forehead, leaning it against his temple to sooth the shooting sensation of a headache that continued to pound at his temples, the whole day being one elongated display for the nobles. It was his duty to live up the expectations, but the carefully constructed facade of his appearance was beginning to show wear. Victoria took her right hand, pulling the ceremonial white glove off of it, before placing it in a chest pocket. Moving her hand, she place it upon his hand that held the glass, slowly moving it across to the other temple. He looked at her through the scarred eye that was now exposed. You are still here, you are still you. Stop losing yourself in your own mind, or you will never come out again. She took her hand off of his, before placing it at the tip of the scar on his forehead, before tracing down the lines of his face to his chin. Victoria... there is something I want to talk to you about. he said. Her pulse quickened at his words, reading right away that something was on his mind, her heart pounding against her chest. Yes, sir? she responded, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer. Part of her wanted it to be true. It will have to wait, we have guests on your six. He pulled away from her, allowing Victoria space to turn to face the guests that were incoming, two noble ladies by the looks of it. Will this day ever end? Victoria said, almost pouting. Must be impotant people Ilya said in a low tone as to not be heard. Look at the way the heads are turning towards them, and how the crowd is actively parting about them. The two women made themselves known, walking towards the two veterans that had caught their eye. Sir, Maam. I am Elizabeth Rayna, this is my dear friend Clara Lucero. We are very pleased to make your acquaintance and welcome you back to Vorlancia. She was as beautiful as her voice was golden, easy on eyes, ears, and the heart. She stood shorter than Ilya, but by a length, though her height was augmented by heels. Hello. Clara added, already glancing and smiling at the woman. The look of annoyance disappeared from Victoria's face as she tried to put the interruption past them. I hope you are enjoying your return so far? said the noble again. Ilya Garin, and this is my aide Victoria Mays. Pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady he said, before taking a bow. From this position he took her hand, giving it a kiss upon the back side, before straightening up and repeating the process again with Clara. Pleasure to make your acquaintance as well. Greetings Victoria said bowing to the other two ladies, before taking their hands into her own, repeating the same process. The four of them stood off to one side of the main dancing area, protected by the curvature of one of the large wooden staircases that lead to the second floor above. The fine nobles of Vorlancia have been much too kind to receive us in such a way. We have been treated beyond what we needed, and we are eternally grateful to your he said. He stood a little bit straighter, one hand on his glass of water, the other tucked into the side of one pants leg. Unlike the other veterans, he was still required to wear the ornamental chest piece, and the shifting of his arm brought reflections about the gathered people. And you, my lady, do you find the reception to your liking? he asked.