OPREF-3 Chpt 1

=Book 3, Chapter 1 - Stacking the Deck=
==Opalescent Reflections==
<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>
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===Long Distance Call to the Homeworlds===
Dali, Tamar
Clan Wolf Occupation Zone
23 August 3052
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Ulric Kerensky, Khan of Clan Wolf, made sure he was presentable before the holodisplay lit up. The various marks of House Kelswa and House Steiner had been removed, replaced with Clan Wolf's flag and Ulric draped his heavy wolfskin cloak over the back of the throne-like seat behind the desk, the head of it appearing to peer over his shoulder.
 
Exactly on time, the holo projector came to life and a white-haired woman appeared to be sitting opposite him. Age had reduced Cyrilla Ward's flesh and left her with a bird-like delicacy, but her eyes were still sharp and missed nothing. "Khan Ulric," she offered in greeting.
 
"Cyrilla," he replied with a respectful bow of his head. She'd been junior khan once, before Ulric had become Kerlin Ward's choice for the role, and now she was leader of the Ward Bloodhouse, one of the most prestigious among Clan Wolf. "I trust that matters are well on Strana Mechty?"
 
She shrugged. "The Hellions' tantrum has died down and the Blood Spirits keep poking at the Diamond Sharks, as if that will go well. I am not sure what they expect."
 
Ulric nodded. The Blood Spirits and the Burrocks had been squabbling since the earliest days of the Clans. When Clan Diamond Shark presented evidence to that would justify eradicating their ancient rivals, the Spirit Khans had been delighted - only for the Diamond Sharks to cut a deal that, while technically legal, pressed against the boundaries of the Clans traditions. "Blood," he said simply.
 
Cyrilla chuckled. "They are getting that. I saw a real Diamond Shark once, and the Clan lives up to it."
 
The Khan frowned. Clan Diamond Shark was a problem. "I would not mind if the Clan were to suffer some reverses," he admitted, "But Clan Blood Spirit is unlikely to provide one."
 
"Their continued invasion," she agreed. "Will House Kurita be the ones to take the Sharks down a peg for you?"
 
"It seems unlikely. Sennet is not making the sort of progress she did two years ago, but worlds are falling and their fresh warriors are eager for action."
 
The old woman looked around, presumably examining his office. "Is your concern her young warriors or our own?"
 
A face flashed before Ulric's eyes. "It may be a concern in the future." he allowed. "For now we have Smoke Jaguars and Jade Falcons to let them get their teeth wet, but the more they see other Clans winning worlds from the Inner Sphere…" He tailed off. "Cyrilla, I may have made a mistake in nominating Natasha Kerensky as my saKhan."
 
That got a sharp reaction from the old veteran. "Tasha is my sibkin," she warned him with the sharp loyalty of a wolf for their pack.
 
"Yes, and you know her well." As well as anyone in the Clans… after almost fifty years of separation.
 
"Well, enough to know that she will be clawing at the walls if she's somewhere like…" Cyrilla frowned. "Where are you, anyway? It seems… luxurious."
 
Ulric stroked his short beard. "This was the office of the Duke of Tamar. Luxurious is putting it kindly - Conal claimed it was outright decadent and for once he may have had a point. However, it has all the facilities needed to govern a region as large as our occupation zone."
 
The palace as a whole was also large enough to house not only Ulric's staff, but the entire garrison of Tamar It kept them conveniently away from the civilian population - no doubt the Lyrans had left agents and assassins who would pick off targets of opportunity, and when that happened the Clan Council would demand reprisals… Ulric could see how that was working out for Clan Smoke Jaguar and wanted none of it. The Clans' destiny was to protect the Inner Sphere, but too many of the other Clans lusted for conquest and the wealth that came to it.
 
"I can see why she does not like it," observed Cyrilla. "What is it that bothers you, Ulric? Her loss to that Enders' whelp?"
 
He made a dismissive gesture. "I do not think anyone else would have done better. It would have been far better if she won, but Ace Enders is building an impressive legend."
 
"If you can win any claim on his bloodline…" the house leader hinted.
 
"We would not be the first to try," Ulric told her drily. Although it would be a way to let some of the younger warriors in the Crusader blow off steam, and cull their numbers. "What concerns me is her sudden interest in politics."
 
That startled the woman, she sat back in her own chair and looked at him quizzically.
 
"Natasha has been talking a great deal with my own sibkin, Erik. He has been introducing her to those of a like mind with him."
 
"Uff…" Cyrilla murmured, eyes distant. "Conal's death has left the Crusader bloc without a clear leader, do you think Erik is trying to fill that gap?"
 
As the commander of Delta Galaxy, Conal Ward had recently done Clan Wolf the great favor of defeating the Smoke Jaguar's bid for transit rights to join Clan Jade Falcon and Clan Nova Cat in striking deeper into the Federated Commonwealth. To Ulric's mind, the ardent Crusader had done a bigger favor by dying to a cockpit hit during the trial. Most of his proteges were eager to take revenge on the Jaguars and that was keeping them distracted.
 
And unless the Smoke Jaguars suddenly developed the capacity to extend their supply lines hundreds of light years around the Wolf Occupation Zone, that meant that they had no chance of participation in either side of the invasion. Clan Diamond Shark certainly wasn't going to share conquests even with their Ghost Bear allies, so the Jaguars would have no chance.
 
"Erik rarely puts himself forward like that," he said out loud. "But he is one of the sharpest minds among our more traditional brethren. He may be sounding Natasha out to fill the role. She does not lack for charisma."
 
"Charisma is one thing," Cyrilla told him, "but Tasha has no patience for politics. Have you spoken to her about this, quiaff?"
 
"Aff. She said she was 'knocking some sense into him' when it came to freeborn warriors."
 
"Good news if she can manage it. We need them - half the touman being posted to the Inner Sphere means our forces here are stretched. Four years to bring the civilian-born up through training is much faster than the twenty years for a sibko to be raised."
 
"Longer than that considering incubation time - and the time the Scientists need to argue over which genes to use."
 
"Twenty, twenty-one…" Cyrilla flicked her hand. "The point stands."
 
"Yes, but I have not been able to talk Erik around on this point since we were children." Ulric observed. "No one will be happier than I if Natasha succeeds, but for her to be making progress like this makes little sense. It seems out of character for her."
 
"I would not have expected this," the old woman allowed thoughtfully. "I will twit her about this later. But in some ways I am not surprised - she was always going to cause you a headache somehow. Expecting Natasha to simply behave is never wise. She has too much energy, and too much pride, to quietly take orders."
 
The khan exhaled. "On that, we agree. Perhaps I am being too sensitive." Erik would be a strong ally if Natasha could talk him around. Was he just feeling jealous that someone other than himself was managing it? Or was some deal being cut. If so, he doubted that Natasha would be the one coming out on top.
 
They paused for a moment and then Cyrilla shook her head. "Moving to the purpose of our meeting… you wish to discuss the Trials for Conal's bloodright?"
 
"Aff. His death in battle has raised his reputation rather than diminish it. I am sure many warriors are hoping for a chance to claim the bloodright."
 
That got a nod. "The grand melee will be exciting. Deferring the trial until warriors can reach the Inner Sphere to participate is just giving more time for youngsters to get their hopes up."
 
"And for the Bloodnamed to make sure that their candidates are sufficiently prepared," Ulric agreed. "Have you decided on your own choices?" All of those bearing the Ward bloodname could make a single nomination, but as the house leader Cyrilla could make eight nominations - filling out the roster to thirty-one, who would then be joined by the winner of the melee.
 
"Not officially," she admitted frankly. "We have many promising young warriors, and until everyone else has made their choices I can delay." Which meant more time for favors to be offered by those who had more than one name in mind for the trials. "The only one I have committed to is Conal's choice, I cannot buck that tradition."
 
"His aide, Vladimir?" asked Ulric, recalling an intense face with a widow's peak of dark hair.
 
"Young Vlad has considerable potential," Cyrilla agreed. "I like his chances… unfortunately he is very much of Conal's mindset."
 
"I am aware." Ulric was not a believer in destiny or other supernatural matters, but Vlad seemed drawn repeatedly into conflict with the khan's own protege, Phelan. Indeed, he was the one who had captured the young Inner Sphere mechwarrior in the first place. "Has he ever mentioned my bondsman to you?"
 
Her lips curled in a smile. "Repeatedly. I wish to meet this young man, Ulric. Reading between the lines of Vlad's account, he seems formidable. Not that this should surprise anyone, since he has Ward ancestry."
 
"I will send him to meet you on New Oslo," Ulric agreed. The world was where Conal had died, and had been chosen as the site for the Trial of Bloodright for his successor in the Clan Council.
 
Cyrilla paused. "You would like me to sponsor him?"
 
Ulric leant back and steepled his fingers. "If you find him worthy. His maternal lineage is Ward, so it would be legal. And his paternal lineage is apparently exceptional… the warrior in question fought on Luthien and reportedly brought down at least five Diamond Shark 'mechs without ever taking serious damage."
 
"Impressive. There might be a challenge to this," Cyrilla warned. "No spheroid has ever been given a chance to win a bloodname. The Grand Council could step in."
 
Ulric smiled. "No spheroid, but the chance has been offered to someone born outside the Clans before."
 
Cyrilla arched an eyebrow.
 
"Sennet's favorite ristar," Ulric told her. "Ace Enders was born among the dark caste. So the Sharks will have to back us against any criticism. And if it comes to a trial of refusal, in either direction, I can trust it to Natasha."
 
"She will be motivated," Cyrilla agreed wryly. "Let me meet him first and then we will see what I make of his chances. But in exchange, I want you to send Natasha as well - it is far too long since we have met."
 
"Surely the Smoke Jaguars will tremble to know that you are both on their border," Ulric agreed readily. It would get Natasha away from Erik for a while and give him a chance to feel his sibkin out, to see what was really going on.
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===Messages showing there has been Intelligence Failure===
Hilton Head, North America
Terra, Sol System
23 November 3052
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Wei Rong smiled fondly as her secretary peered cautiously around the door. After her previous secretary moved on and up to run his own HPG station, the Primus had been amused to see a familiar face in the list of potential candidates.
 
Having reassured herself that the Primus was fully clad, Tanya Serebryakov entered the office carrying a plate of pastries in one hand and a datapad in the other. "Your mid-morning snack, Primus. And two priority messages." She knocked the door shut with her hip before crossing the room to Wei's desk.
 
"Ah, sweet temptation." Wei mused, banishing the existing displays. She raised her arms high and stretched before accepting both plate and datapad.
 
Seeing the datapad was from the HPG not a planetary matter, the Primus concluded that it could wait until she'd eaten and set it aside. "Want one?" she offered generously, picking up a Danish stacked with intermixed cream and lemon curds.
 
Serebryakov's eyes widened fractionally as Wei licked some of the soft topping off the crisp pastry. "I don't know how you keep your figure," she admitted, not taking one for herself. "I think my waist got wider just carrying the plate."
 
"Rigorous exercise," the more experienced woman answered. "You're welcome to join me."
 
The adept's ears went pink. "No thank you, Ma'am."
 
"Are you sure? Yoga is very good for one's health and flexibility."
 
"Uh, I'll think about it?"
 
Wei nodded in satisfaction, before biting into the pastry. One step closer to getting her secretary into snug exercise gear. The younger woman's looks weren't why she chosen, but if a tiebreaker had been needed it would have likely been in Serebryakov's favor. Mmmm, this was delicious.
 
Seeing that her secretary's face was still ruddier than usual, Wei went back to the datapad rather than taking another pastry. "Two priorities… both from Sian? Did we get a duplicate?"
 
"No, Primus." Serebryakov shook her head briskly. "I checked and it's two different messages. The HPG was spinning up for the first priority when the second was received so they were sent together."
 
"One from the Chancellor, one from…" she blinked. "A St. Ives diplomatic code? On Sian? Did Allard-Liao take his aunt's throne and no one told me?" DRUM would be answering some harsh questions if that was the case. Duke Kai Allard-Liao's advance was pushing closer to Capella, probably the most important world in the Capellan Confederation except for the capital on Sian, but if he'd managed to pull forces aside for a sudden decapitation attack, that would change the entire nature of the war between the two branches of House Liao.
 
"Not that I'm aware," the younger woman reported. "Should I check?"
 
"No, let's see what they have to say." Wei selected the Chancellor's message first, wondering what Romano Liao was after.
 
The message was 2-D, once Wei had the datapad secured to her desk console it replayed on the screen that made up one wall of the office. The first surprise was who was sat upon the Confederation's throne - a young man in immaculate Chinese robes.
 
"Sun-Tzu Liao," Wei clarified for a puzzled looking Serebryakov.
 
"The chancellor's son?"
"That would involve time travel, given where he's sitting." Although it was possible he'd repeated his mother's course of action and locked a clearly insane parent up, acting as a 'deputy' Chancellor.
 
"Oh!" Serebryakov didn't miss that clue.
 
<<"Madame Primus.">> Sun-Tzu didn't bow but he did incline his head fractionally, acknowledging someone who - by protocol at least - was his near-equal. <<"As I am sure you have realized, there has been a change of leadership within the Capellan Confederation. By the time that you receive this message, I expect that a formal announcement of my accession to the throne of my honored ancestors will have reached the House of Scions. As Chancellor, I look forward to a future of improved relations with ComStar and with the other interstellar nations.">>
 
There was a moment's pause, which Wei assumed was to allow her a moment to pause and consider the remark. Considerate of him.
 
<<"I am aware that you and my mother were, if not friends, at least occasional correspondents. While she had no last messages for you, I believe it is only reasonable to settle any curiosity over her passing that you might have. My mother, distraught at the course of the war with my cousin the Duke of St. Ives, elected to end her own life. My father attempted to restrain her and regrettably suffered a fatal injury from her chosen weapon of suicide.">> Sun-Tzu was a good liar, he looked at the camera with every sign of regret and mourning for being orphaned so tragically.
 
Having met Romano, Wei was certain that the story was horseshit. It wasn't impossible that she might have killed her consort - she was tempestuous at the best of times. But she was also far too self-centered to end her own life, much less over a war she considered everyone else's fault.
 
Possibly the younger Liao had decided to take the throne before his cousin seized it. Or perhaps it had been a falling out where his father accidentally killed Romano in self-defense. But suicide?
 
"That sounds awfully Draconian." Serebryakov said slowly.
 
"Quite so, Tanya. It's the official account and therefore we can assume that it's at least glossing over the ugly details." the Primus agreed, pausing the replay briefly so she could respond.
 
<<"I am aware that my grandfather declined the services of ComStar to conclude the Fourth Succession War, twenty-three years ago." the young Chancellor continued. "That may have been the right decision then, but this is a different time. Given the continued threat posed by the Clans, I believe that the current conflict between the Capellan Confederation and the St. Ives Compact is an unnecessary distraction. I am therefore formally asking that you mediate our dispute with the goal of a peaceful resolution.">>
 
Wei made a face but watched the rest of the message, which was little more than polite courtesies and an entirely pro forma invitation to attend the ceremonies that would formally recognize Sun-Tzu as the new Chancellor.
 
"Should I draft a reply?" asked Serebryakov when the message reached its end.
 
"I should probably decide if I'm going to accept or not first." Wei told her. "The Captain-General already tried to rein this in and he didn't get anywhere. That young man is hitting all the right notes to convince me that it's in ComStar's interests to back him, but he's losing the war which means he's clutching at straws."
 
She tapped the second message on the datapad. "Let's see who this is from. I can only hold my curiosity back so far." With her other hand, she picked up another pastry. "Are you sure you don't want one? They're delicious."
 
Serebryakov hesitated and then accepted the last pastry on the plate with a guilty look on her face.
 
Then the second message began to play. >>"Greetings, Primus Rong Wei."<< Wei dropped the pastry back onto the plate and jabbed the pause command.
 
Serebryakov had her own pastry halfway into her mouth to bite and stood frozen for a second as they both looked at Duchess Candace Liao's face. The leader of the St. Ives Compact was sitting in front of a neutral background, wearing a dress that wasn't up to the usual standards of a nation's ruler.
 
Of course, she'd also been killed over two years ago by a Capellan assassin. Or so it had been reported.
 
"Is that -" Serebryakov lowered her pastry.
 
"It looks like her." Wei admitted. "Eat up, we might need the calories." She matched action to words, devouring her pastry as she considered the possibilities. "Mu may be able to confirm if this is really her," she continued once the morsel had been swallowed. "But for now I'll listen to the message."
 
>>"As you may have guessed,"<< the duchess continued once the recording resumed, >>"Rumors of my death have been exaggerated. After recovering from my injuries, I have traveled to Sian and concluded a frank exchange of views with my sister regarding her behavior. This has resolved our personal differences to my satisfaction, but it does leave the other fall-out from my husband's death and my own absence to be resolved."<<
 
"Like a little war?" Wei shot back, not that the source of the message could hear her.
 
Candace glanced away from the camera for an instant and then stared directly into it. >>"The current war wasn't part of my plans, but as I'm sure you're aware, once a war begins it isn't easily stopped. Thomas Marik's attempt to broker a peace was doomed by the fact that he's a Marik as much as by the fact that my sister was one of those he had to work with."<<
 
>>"My nephew is more reasonable than Romano, and you have a more neutral position to work with, And, of course, my own support. I expect Sun-Tzu to contact you to request your mediation and hope that you'll accept. Too many of the Capellan people have died already and the distraction is affecting the preparations to fight the Clans. As you were born within the Confederation, I'd hope that both of these arguments carry weight with you."<<
 
The duchess - if she was genuine - lowered her head, apparently in fatigue. >>"I will return to St. Ives now, and once I am home, my survival should become public and you can contact me via the usual channels there."<<
 
>>"At the risk of being dramatic, Primus, you may be the only hope to end this war before it becomes much worse."<<
 
The message cut out sharply and Wei leant back in her chair and exhaled. "We definitely need to know if that's the real Candace Liao or not."
 
"Do you think it's a trick?" her secretary asked, a little cream from the pastry decorating her upper lip. "It's hard to imagine Duke Allard-Liao being angrier with the Capellans than he already is, but if they created a fake of his mother…"
 
"Mmm. And there's already speculation that Chancellor - the old Chancellor - was ordering strategic weapons deployed to defend Capella from her nephew. It's hard to imagine anyone using those - even House Kurita held back when they fought for Luthien. But it wasn't unthinkable that Romano Liao might take desperate measures to retain Capella."
 
Serebryakov shivered.
 
Wei gestured for her to lean over. The younger woman hesitated and then obeyed. Wei reached up and wiped the smudge cream off her lip with one thumb. "Messy eater," she chided as Serebryakov flushed. Then, for her own amusement, Wei licked the cream off her thumb
 
 "P-primus!" the secretary yelped and backed up, looking mortified.
 
Having got the reaction she wanted, Wei unplugged the datapad. "I'll hold off on any response for now. I want both messages checked by Mu division to see if they're from who they claim to be. If I'm going to accept, I'll need to talk to Focht and see what we've got available to play peace-keeper. Boots on the ground matter."
 
"It shouldn't be that hard," the brunette offered. "I mean, both of them seem to want to end the war."
 
"Yes, but the problem is…" Wei shook her head. "Did you ever hear that it takes two to fight? That's rubbish. It takes one to start a fight, it takes both sides to accept that it's over. We still haven't heard from the other side."
 
"...what do you mean? We have the Capellans and St. Ives."
 
"Do we?" the Primus asked. "Candace Liao, if that is her, has been away for two years. She isn't calling any of the shots for St. Ives until and unless her son accepts her. And what do you think Kai Allard-Liao will have to say about this?"
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===Request to a old Swordsmith===
Kincha Mountains, Pesht
Clan Diamond Shark Occupation Zone
18 December 3052
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Ace Enders had been told that his destination was picturesque. It wasn't a word he was familiar with, he'd had to look it up and been genuinely surprised to learn it wasn't from the 'Japanese' language that the Draconis Combine appeared to prefer to Star League English.
 
So far as he was concerned, the dictionary could stuff it. The word evidently meant 'primitive and inconvenient'.
 
Oh, the mountainous valley was pretty, he'd grant that. But the paths were (deliberately as far as he could tell) too narrow for any motor vehicles wider than a meter to pass safely and far too twisty for most of those. He'd been left with no alternative but hiking up the trails on foot.
 
Granted, it wasn't as bad as survival training with the sibko, one of the many (oh so very many) classes where he'd found himself years behind his peers. But it had taken him half the day to reach his destination high up on the side of the valley and he doubted very much if the return journey would be any faster.
 
Nonetheless, he'd finally reached his destination and the young Galaxy Commander emerged from the trees that covered the slopes, likely holding them together as much as the bones of the mountain beneath, to find a house that…
 
Well, it wasn't a shack, Ace corrected his first impression. It was large and well made, not to mention well-cared for. But it was also timber and wood, in the ancient style mimicked slavishly by House Kurita and their servants, the sort of building that might have been found on Terra more than a thousand years ago. It was entirely possible, he thought, that the makers had even used the same methods rather than power tools.
 
Emerging from the trees had exposed him to the sun, which was now high in the sky. Sheltering his eyes, Ace uncapped his water bottle and sipped from it as he let his eyes adjust to the brightness.
 
Satisfied, Ace looked around for signs of the inhabitants. No one was outside that he could see, but a coil of smoke rose from one of the chimneys, behind the left wing of the house.
 
Following what he understood of local practices, Ace walked up the steps onto the veranda and unlaced his boots, leaving them on the top step. He followed the walkway to his left, around the corner of the house. As he followed the side of the building, a clanging noise came from ahead of him - metal striking metal.
 
It sounded… no, it wasn't mechanical. Rhythmic, but under the control of a living person. Perhaps this was who he was looking for.
At the back of the house, a courtyard was framed by the house, two outbuildings and a cliff that rose up above all three. The floor between them was paved and swept so clean that Ace almost didn't worry about walking over it in his socks. One of the outbuildings was clearly a storehouse, but the other was the source of both the smoke and the chimney. As he walked closer, feet chilled by the stone, Ace could hear the rustle of someone moving and deep, steady breathing.
 
"Suzuki Satoru?" he called.
 
The clanging cut off with a clatter and then quick footsteps to the door of the… workshop perhaps?
 
The man who emerged wore a heavy leather apron over a dull green kimono and baggy pants in the style of a DCMS uniform. He was gray-haired and his face was lined visibly, looking out at Ace with his hands on the door frame - no, one on the door frame and the other hidden by it - most likely holding a weapon.
 
"That is my name," the man confirmed flatly. His eyes swept up and down Ace. "Do you often walk into someone's home uninvited?"
 
"I didn't see any bell or buzzer."
 
That got a muttered word that Ace didn't catch. "I am working. What do you want?"
 
"I believe you sent a letter of protest," the Diamond Shark told him, pulling a printout from the thigh pocket of his pants. "It was judged important enough to respond directly."
 
The man frowned. "More than I expected. I need to clean up. Go wait out front and I'll show you how to knock."
 
Ace gave a slight bow and then returned to the walkway, heading back around the house to the front. Hopefully this wasn't a means to keep him waiting as a lynch mob was assembled. He had his side arm and a radio, but those likely wouldn't be enough to keep him alive if the locals were serious about killing him. Then again, there was almost nothing they could do to stop the garrison from burning the valley out with napalm, so hopefully they wouldn't think it was worthwhile.
 
After a few minutes that felt considerably longer, Satoru opened the front door of the house. "For your general fund of information," he instructed and pulled on the back of one of the pillars either side of the steps leading up to the door. The section swung out and when he released it, it returned to its previous position with a loud thunk. "It's a tradition from worlds where metal isn't so common."
 
"I do not recall Pesht being short of metals." Few industrial worlds were.
 
"Custom even so. It is polite." The last word was weighted deliberately.
 
Ace inclined his head. "Thank you for the lesson."
 
He was ushered inside to the main room where a low table was waiting. Satoru knelt on one side and Ace sat on the other, wishing that there was at least a cushion as he copied his host. The room was somewhat dim, without any artificial lights. Each corner of the room had a triangular shelving stack with an unlit oil lamp on the top shelf, presumably the light sources used at night.
 
"So, you are here about my letter."
 
"Aff," Ace agreed. He laid it on the table and let the other man check it.
 
"Yes, this is what I wrote," he agreed. "I didn't think I'd get a reply, much less a visit. Well, except maybe a firing squad."
 
So we're being tested, Ace concluded. I thought as much. "I will not pretend there are no people who might respond like that. Some in the Clans, some in the Combine. I would expect a DCMS veteran to be aware of that."
 
Satoru's eyes widened fractionally at the admission that Ace had researched him before visiting. He must have had a low level of expectation. "So, are you going to remove the ban on sword ownership? Just because I asked you."
Ace shook his head. "I'm here because I think you - and potentially a lot of other people - have misunderstood our laws. We do not ban the ownership of swords and if the belief that we do is preventing you from selling the swords you make, I want to correct that."
 
The swordsmith frowned. "You say that you don't ban swords, but you have a law that means that only your warrior caste can be armed."
 
"What does it mean to be armed?"
 
"Carrying a weapon." the older man said impatiently.
 
"Carrying a weapon that can be used," Ace amended reasonably. "Transporting a weapon with no intention and, at least arguably, no means to use it, is not being armed."
 
 
Suzuki's frown deepened. "What use is a sword that can't be used?"
 
"I carried a pair of swords for a year, more or less," he pointed out. "I used them once."
 
The eyes looking at him narrowed. "You are the famous Ace Enders."
 
"Famous?"
 
"Oh yes. Your duel was here on Pesht. You are quite well known."
 
Ace considered that and then spread his hands. "I am well known, and I am quite senior in rank. I am aware that some of my fellow warriors have likewise claimed swords as trophies. There is no barrier to them carrying weapons, and we are not in the custom of carrying weapons we cannot use. So that is one market for your swords. The other lies in the distinction that swords are not just weapons."
 
Satoru folded his arms. "Are you telling me to make swords that are just display pieces?"
 
"So long as your clients are not carrying the swords outside of their private property, that is not banned. Perhaps it is decorative. Perhaps it is a training aid for kendo. We have no need to investigate everything that can possibly be used to kill people - can you imagine if we tried to block the ownership of kitchen knives?" Ace asked rhetorically, keeping his tone light.
 
"Hmm." The swordsmith closed his eyes in thought. "The sword has been the mark of a samurai, a warrior of the Draconis Combine, for a very long time. I think you underestimate how important it is to my people."
 
Ace smiled slightly. "Your people… or our people? We are recruiting locally, training candidates from worlds in the Inner Sphere to become warriors of Clan Diamond Shark. They are being trained in our ways and methods, but they are also from these worlds. What do you think they will do once they have warrior status and have the right to carry weapons?"
 
"You want samurai of the Shark, rather than the Dragon."
 
"Whether I want it or not hardly matters," he told Satoru. "We are here, amid the people of these worlds. We shape those who live here and they will shape us - unless we cut ourselves off entirely which would be less than productive. Will they call themselves samurai? I have no idea. But if a sword is the mark of a warrior, then warriors will seek swords. That much is predictable."
 
The older man sighed and unfolded his arms. "It is something. More than I expected."
 
"Our castes are also more complex than I think you appreciate." Ace continued. "Among our Clan, it is accepted that older warriors may retire and take up other professions."
 
"I heard that they are encouraged to die in battle first." Satoru snorted.
 
"Some choose that. And there are Clans where that is normal. Most Diamond Sharks consider that wasteful. And - an interesting point of law here - no one may change their caste. A warrior who takes up another profession, that of crafting weapons, to give an example…"
 
Satoru's eyes narrowed and he gestured with one hand for Ace to continue.
 
"They are still considered to be warriors, at least as long as they can maintain fitness for battle. They are simply in reserve. So they too can carry weapons." Ace raised one finger. "Also, we consider those who serve as police to be warriors. Again, qualified to be armed. And we extend this to those who we have brought into our Clan. I do not think that your markets have been as affected as you believed."
 
The old man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "That was not my understanding. I see that I too must thank you for the lesson."
 
Ace waited a moment before concluding: "A warrior who has retired, who is brought into our Clan, might also be said to be a warrior. Sho-sa."
 
Satoru's eyes snapped open. "Do not mock me." he demanded, voice sharp.
 
"I do not," Ace told him quietly. "You trained and qualified as a warrior. You went to war. You retired and now serve in another role. If you pass the fitness tests and swear an oath of loyalty to Clan Diamond Shark, you may carry a sword proudly."
 
The old man growled. "No. I will never swear that oath."
 
Ace had never been much for fishing, but he knew that once the hook and bait was in the water, patience was called for. He said nothing.
 
Absent any reply, it was Satoru who filled the silence. "I will not. I served under Takashi Kurita. I swore my oath to him and… I would not serve his son. I will not serve your Clan."
 
"Then do not. It is your choice."
 
Satoru glared at him. "You said you had swords, what happened to them?"
 
"The sister of the man who carried them before me, won them." Ace told him honestly. "I do not suppose…"
 
"I just told you!" the swordsmith snarled. "My oath was to Takashi Kurita. Do you think I will arm the man who killed my lord?!" He raised his chin defiantly.
 
After a moment's thought, Ace spread his hands. "One never knows until one asks."
 
"I would rather die."
 
"As much as I have heard your skills praised, I do not believe you are the only swordsmith on Pesht, much less the Inner Sphere."
 
Satoru's face fell, looking defeated. "Do I matter so little to you?"
 
Ace pulled himself to his feet. "Whether or not we carry swords, we both have to carry our own honor and decide what it means. If your honor means refusing to take an oath and refusing to make a sword, so be it. I do not need to stain your honor to maintain mine."
 
He walked to the door and then looked back. "I hope my answers are satisfactory."
 
"Why can you not be the sort of man I would despise?" the old swordsmith asked bitterly.
 
The commander of Epsilon Galaxy shrugged. "There is always tomorrow. Perhaps I will live down to your expectations then." He pulled on his boots and laced them up one at a time. "But if you want to be a martyr, I will have to disappoint you."
 
He had taken two steps towards the path when Satoru called out: "Enders."
 
Ace stopped and looked back.
 
"I may make swords for your warriors one day. If I think them worthy. As for whether others like me will take oaths for the right to wear their blades…" The gray-haired samurai sighed heavily. "That, as you say, will come down to their honor."
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Chapter 3-1