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There was a bunch of other crap that had reared its head. Netillian deep cover Kommissariat agents seeking revenge, and some silver haired slag that thought she owned Magnus and wanted to win a series of duels for his heart. None of that would get in the way of the now, though, where you were pausing a motorcycle drive to have some tea at a rural teahouse with lofty claims to its brews.

This teahouse was also being crashed by at least a couple bikers from a gang called the Sleeves, who could be trouble, but again, they would not stand in your way today.

So, to Magnus’s request for a second opinion, you’d stated as much. It claimed to be the best “country tea” in the region. Maybe it was the best in the country, maybe the continent. Were some punk bikers going to stand in the way of you two? No, of course not.

He’d agreed without hesitation. With relief, even.

“Tell me what we’re in for,” you prompted Magnus as you made for the teahouse, as though the bikes in front of it had vanished. “Country tea?”

“Proper tea’s price is variable, depending on how far the trip to Zhantao is, from what waters. Yet nobody simply wants to stop because of that. Herbal tisanes, berry and mint infusions, spice teas, all of those are considered country teas. Remember Midland Stingers? They’re the same principle.”

A Midland Stinger was a simple wake-up concoction made with black pepper and ginger. Netillian as could be expected, it made the mouth and throat tingle with the overindulgence of mild yet prickly spice.

“I don’t think they’ll have enough pepper for your taste,” you said, making fun. “They’ll freak out if you take the shaker t’ their tea I bet.”

Magnus snorted at that. “Hah. I’ve sometimes considered asking for rye bread at a patisserie, just to see the look on the baker’s face. I wouldn’t gamble the chance on getting it here though, in case whoever here likes to play into a joke I don’t want to taste the punch of.” He looked you up and down, and you didn’t let that pass.

“Lose your train of thought?” You smirked at him.

“I was just reminded,” Magnus said, putting a finger on his chin, “You made provocative modifications to your uniform over in Netilland as well. I didn’t think you were a tailor. Even if some people would consider what you did to those clothes to be butchery.”

“Memorable tho’, huh?”

“Now that I think about it,” Magnus rubbed his chin and stopped in his tracks, “That was before…Blumsburgh. Tell me, were you trying to get my attention then? Or was that choice in fashion just your usual expression?”

…

>…The hell did he think? He’d always been a pest about you not showing skin. Annoying him like that was fun, in a way. Especially if he could be twisted into appreciating it.
>Magnus never seemed too into you being showy. So of course it was just you doing your own thing. Would have been nice if he had said anything about it then, though…
>Heh. Wouldn’t he like to know? Let him stew on it. Be coy about it. Just because you’d made the first move didn’t mean you weren’t hard to get.
>Other?

Previous Thread is - https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5967085/
Panzer Commander Quest Thread archives- Not required reading for this I think, but opinions vary- https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
I would have had this up earlier but my sleep schedule's been wrecked so I had to cut down the OP. Which is probably better anyways.

>>6017245
>Magnus never seemed too into you being showy. So of course it was just you doing your own thing. Would have been nice if he had said anything about it then, though…

>>6017245
>>Magnus never seemed too into you being showy. So of course it was just you doing your own thing. Would have been nice if he had said anything about it then, though…

>>6017245
>Magnus never seemed too into you being showy. So of course it was just you doing your own thing. Would have been nice if he had said anything about it then, though…

>>6017245
>Magnus never seemed too into you being showy. So of course it was just you doing your own thing. Would have been nice if he had said anything about it then, though…

>>6017245
>>Heh. Wouldn’t he like to know? Let him stew on it. Be coy about it. Just because you’d made the first move didn’t mean you weren’t hard to get.

>>6017245
>Heh. Wouldn’t he like to know? Let him stew on it. Be coy about it. Just because you’d made the first move didn’t mean you weren’t hard to get.

>>6017245
>>Magnus never seemed too into you being showy. So of course it was just you doing your own thing. Would have been nice if he had said anything about it then, though…

>>6017248
>>6017259
>>6017266
>>6017276
>>6017378
There are standards to uphold. Which involve contradicting other, lamer standards.

>>6017304
>>6017365
No kissing and telling. Definitely not the latter without the former.

Updating.

I forgot how rough Sundays are to try and update on for me. So, sorry, but I have to push this to tomorrow.

>>6017241
i fucking dare you to link a vocaroo of you pronouncing that title card.

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It had always been hard to get a handle on Magnus’s sexuality for you. You’d even presumed he was fond of men at one point…though that wasn’t because of any generosity. There was a time when you wouldn’t have cared if he’d rotted in open air after all. That had changed. Yet he seemed as reserved as ever. Trying to work that metal without having a flame would have been pointless.

“I was just doing my own thing,” you said, trying to seem uncaring. “Wearin’ a uniform as is ain’t for me. I’ve gotta put me into anything I’m gonna wear for a while.” The haughtiness eroded without you willing it. “Y’ didn’t say anything about it then. Not keepin’ any secrets, were you?”

Magnus put his hand on your back and pushed you along. “You’ve an alternative idea to mine about your most charming features, Lady Nowicki.” You jabbed him in the side with a humph, but he had put himself to your left side, and it lacked the impact you’d have liked it to have. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Pfeh. Trying to mess with you now? He was getting too cocky. “Not even a hint, night curtains?”

“Not unless you win it, Sieben.”

That had been what Magnus’s second in command, a testy guy called Arminius, had dubbed you. It wasn’t as popular a name for you as Ribbons was, but you liked being called after a tank better than panties. The Netillian NfK-7 model of tank hull had crew hatches on its sloped flanks- that was what you presumed to be the reason for the name. Asking for confirmation spoiled the game.

Well, he’d be thirsty for more than tea yet.

On the way in, you peered at the bikes left outside the teahouse. Von Apfsen Motorrad type, like the ones you’d taken up here, but an older model. The VAM-5/4B. The Army didn’t use this type- this was a civilian later iteration of the last one they did make standard, the VAM-4. A model that you knew of from copies making their way into the wastes like many motorcycles did, regardless of how well they handled the Red Dust.

Through the door you went, a line of little bells tinkling a greeting in sequence as the door moved forward, then swung back. It was a humble place, clean and prim with mottling of white and soft greens and blues on the walls, floor, and furnishings in plainly applied stains and paints. Though the patronage of elites showed in places like the landscape paintings and portraits on the wall, and the delicately painted porcelain both displayed for effect and also others ready to be used for teas.

There was the expected herbal smells- but also another. The harsh stink of cigarettes.

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In the front corner of the teahouse, right near a window, there were a trio of what were unmistakably the people who’d left their bikes outside. One of them, the girl, must have ridden on back.

“The famous ruffian youths,” Magnus sniffed disdainfully, “It seems they’ve some hesitancy in showing who they are.”

He referred to the cloth bandannas over their faces and the goggles, doing a decent job of hiding their faces, their uniform a riff on a pelisse where a half-cloak covered one arm and a cropped jacket had one sleeve under the cloak, colored forest green. The titular “sleeve” of the gang, though their colors were of all sorts. Yet their girlfriend wasn’t so shy about showing her face. You’d seen her around the dormitory and academy, actually, but couldn’t be bothered to learn her name.

The fashion sense was a bit nostalgic. The sort of chaotic grabs at individuality that were common in the wastes, not too far to the east.

One of them, the guy slouching on a corner chair with a red bandanna, immediately started to take exception to you coming in. “Hey, you!” He called out, “This place is…is…” He stalled when you turned to look at him. A lot of Sleeves were Academy students- and every Academy student knew your face, as well as that you had a decoration that would spoil the reputation of anybody who thought to cross you.

You’d consider a smart remark, but Magnus was quicker on the draw. “This teahouse’s reputation precedes your introduction, and your cheap tobacco musk and hand-me-down mounts introduces yourself without words,” he said, “The Sergeant and I are here to partake of the former." He put his thumbs in his pockets and stood wide legged, “Not the latter.”

A pause from the Sleeve. The girl next to him, leaning against the wall, clicked her tongue in an annoyed sounding fashion, and the stunned man snapped a look over his shoulder to her, while his friend spoke up for him.

“Sheesh, Blutig, what are you so scared of?” He pointed at you and Magnus. “You might be queen of the Academy, Nowicki, but this is Sleeve turf, and unless you want to make the deal sweet for us, you ought to get lost. There’s no room here for anybody who thinks they can just step on our toes and act like we ain’t here.”

“Queen of the Academy?” Magnus said sidelong to you with a hint of amusement.”

“Shut up. First I’ve heard that label.”

“Hey, we weren’t done,” the first guy said, speaking louder and over the other, “I had it, Rauch, nobody asked you to butt in.”

“No need t’ fight over me, boys,” you said snidely, clinging to Magnus’s arm, “I’m already taken.”

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“By that guy?” Blutig, as he was called (even though he was probably Von Whatever) had thought of some line that was giving him confidence, “Sergeant, I think you could do better. How about you hang out with us a while? That look you’ve got now is something we could get used to. Dump the long hair, and we’ll get you all the free tea you want. That guy can go do his own thing in the corner and watch, I guess.”

“I think not.” Magnus said curtly, “You are highborn, yes? Somebody like you should know perfectly well when to know his place, especially going around in your own homeland with your face hidden like a sheepish bandit.”

Edelschwert was in no mood for any shit. Or he had found somebody he could let loose on without any concern and was working that for all its worth. He wasn’t the only one in no mood for this though.

“That’s it,” Blutig stood up, “Are you foreign, with that accent? Do you know who we are?”

“No.” Magnus replied flatly.

That response didn’t assuage hurt feelings, and the other one, Rauch, stepped forward. “We’re part of the Sleeves, the Grunzer.” You weren’t sure if it was a sloppy combination of green and the term for a border trooper, or not. “And this is our turf. So you show some respect, or you’ll have it beaten into you, hear?”

By now, the teahouse owner had taken notice of the rising tensions. A grey-haired man with tiny glasses, who had a sharp featured face but a cowardly stoop in his posture. “If you’re going to do anything, won’t you do it outside, please?”

“Indeed,” Magnus said, “Unruly dogs should be kept outside in the first place.”

“Then you’d better show your arse out, before it’s thrown out!” Once more, Blutig was trying to seize the initiative on who the big dog was. “Either way, you’re gonna learn a lesson you’d better spread around here and far…”

You weren’t paying attention to those guys, though, they’d have liked that. You were looking at the girl, instead. She had a look like she had bet money on a boxing match that could go either way. So, was this what this was? Were you two fighting your dogs against each other? Not that you’d complain at watching your man work…

>Take this outside then. Tea afterwards would be more refreshing in a place that wasn’t trashed.
>A fight inside sounded like more fun. An important element- since you intended to participate.
>Why engage in fisticuffs, especially when Magnus would probably win? You’ve all got motorcycles. Demand to make this a contest of riders.
>They wanted to fight. They'd get their asses kicked. It'd be a waste of time. What'd really get under their skin would be if you just went on with your business with exactly as much consideration to them as they deserved. None.
>Other?

>>6018284
Fine.
https://voca.ro/1jRpQv04HO7h
Now if you ever chance upon me in real life you'll know exactly who it is because of this sperg voice.

>>6019313
>>Why engage in fisticuffs, especially when Magnus would probably win? You’ve all got motorcycles. Demand to make this a contest of riders.

>>6019313
>>A fight inside sounded like more fun. An important element- since you intended to participate.

>>6019313
>Take this outside then. Tea afterwards would be more refreshing in a place that wasn’t trashed.

Be nice to the owners.

>>6019313
>Why engage in fisticuffs, especially when Magnus would probably win? You’ve all got motorcycles. Demand to make this a contest of riders.

They are a biker gang and they're largely made up of academy students who know Anya's face. Kicking their asses will probably stoke tensions that might boil over later on, better to beat them fairly and earn their respect in one go.
Bear in mind Anya's not necessarily always going to have Mag or Van Halm to hand to make up for that bad arm, and ventilating some lordling's brat with 6 derringers as a last resort in an overeager gang honour hit, or something, X weeks down the line doesn't sound like it'll do wonders for her continued education.

>>6019313
>>Take this outside then. Tea afterwards would be more refreshing in a place that wasn’t trashed.

>>6019313
>>A fight inside sounded like more fun. An important element- since you intended to participate.

>>6019313
>Why engage in fisticuffs, especially when Magnus would probably win? You’ve all got motorcycles. Demand to make this a contest of riders.
A contest of duel monsters right?

>>6019324
>>6019416
>>6019741
Ride, Pantsu Ritter.

>>6019326
>>6019634
Busting it inside.

>>6019369
>>6019440
Pulling out.

Calling it in a couple hours. Also, I got jury duty, so that'll make updating...interesting. Probably. Though the waiting periods will probably make it fine.

>>6019772
How many days for the trial?

>>6019783
Starts tomorrow, will probably last a couple weeks, hard to say. I only work two days of the week now so it's not a huge draw on my time. Honestly I don't anticipate it keeping me from finishing things this thread.

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“Hold on a sec,” you said, choosing now to get in between.

The Sleeves stopped their advance on Magnus. A little respect and hesitancy could be a castle wall in the right circumstances- as old pig man taught once, being smaller and weaker could benefit you in the right circumstance.

“So,” you followed on, not waiting to hear any proposals you weren’t interested in like stay out of this or stand aside, “This don’t seem like a fair fight.”

“One on one and a half is close enough odds,” Magnus mused.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Blutig whined, “You’ll have an apology wrung from you yet!”

Magnus was making it really difficult not to just let him have at it, but you wanted two things, in a way. To be a part of it, but also not to mess up the date venue. “You’ll lose,” you said flatly to the two Sleeves, “In a straight up fight. I ain’t gonna just let y’ beat him up even if I thought you could. So. You’re riders, aren’t you? Motorritter? Last I checked, we’ve all got motorcycles.” Except the quiet broad in the back, but she could go get stuffed as far as you cared. Her build was too similar to yours to be any competition, while also needing to do more sit-ups and squats.

That seemed to hit some brain matter in between the two thugs’ skulls, together with the realization that Magnus, for all his prettiness, was taller and broader of arm than both. “You know what,” Rauch said, “You’re right, we’ll go easy on you. A race will settle this.”

“Blackjack rules, I presume,” Magnus said. You turned your head at that- you knew he’d done a lot of Dustlands duties but that term was definitely not Netillian.

Blutig, as usual, seemed clueless. “…You want to play cards while racing?”

“No, dippy,” Rauch said, and Blutig whirled on him like he was about to pick another fight, “It means real racing.”

“Dirty racing,” Magnus corrected. “Especially with that baton you’ve got in your coat.”

Rauch touched his jacket in surprise. “But that’s fine, yeah?”

Nobody would hear otherwise. Trying to hit each other during a race meant not focusing on the road or speed anyways. “Yeah,” you said, “That’s fine.”

Magnus noticed the implication. “You don’t have to, Lady-”

“I’m doing it,” you interrupted, “And you can’t stop me.”

No further comment was had on that as you all went outside. You couldn’t help but feel a bit smug when Bluting seemed to choke upon seeing your rides.

“Aren’t those…Academy Sixes?”

“And how would you know that?” You snickered.

“Uh,” he stammered, “I mean, it’d be on your arse, if they got beaten up…”

“Ain’t none of your concern,” you said with a shrug. “So,” you traced your finger over the view from the hill. The roads were uneven in their twists and turns, not straight sweeps. Speed wouldn’t be all that mattered. “Two eights around that hill and this one, come back here, first place takes the pot?”

“The pot?” Rauch asked this time, “It’s going to be like that, then? Both of us do the same thing, then.”

“Yeah,” Blutig did his best not to seem like the smaller mutt, “We win, that other guy has to leave with his tail between his legs and you hang out with us for the day!”

Rauch turned his head skeptically. “Was gonna say we should take the bikes…but that might be a better one. So long as hanging out means she takes the pokes and pinches with a smile, too.”

So you were the prize, hm? Wouldn’t be the first time you bet yourself as the ante, but you hadn’t lost those when it mattered.

“For my part,” Magnus said, “Should I win, you’ll remove those silly masks and introduce yourselves by name. Then you will leave this place and not return as anything but cowed patrons. This will be your turf no longer.” He looked to you, “Should that be your goal as well?”

Well…it didn’t have to be.

>Nah, that sounded good to you. Though the teahouse would have to air out the scent of trash a bit.
>You’d do one better. If you won, then they weren’t Sleeves anymore- they belonged to you, instead.
>Nah, they could stay if they want. But they’d have to give you their wallets and watches. And clothes.
>Other?

No second picture for the interest of getting this out before this day is completely taken over.

>>6020452
>Nah, that sounded good to you. Though the teahouse would have to air out the scent of trash a bit.

>>6020452
>>Nah, that sounded good to you. Though the teahouse would have to air out the scent of trash a bit.

>>6020452
>>Nah, that sounded good to you. Though the teahouse would have to air out the scent of trash a bit.

>>6020452
>>Nah, that sounded good to you. Though the teahouse would have to air out the scent of trash a bit.

>>6020452
>Nah, that sounded good to you. Though the teahouse would have to air out the scent of trash a bit.

>>6020452
>You’d do one better. If you won, then they weren’t Sleeves anymore- they belonged to you, instead.
They can be Neo-Zeon instead.

>>6020452
>You’d do one better. If you won, then they weren’t Sleeves anymore- they belonged to you, instead.

>>6020457
>>6020461
>>6020538
>>6020574
>>6020657
Merciful Tomboy. Or a fawning one.

>>6020684
>>6020963
You're my punks now. Too shitty to be part of a harem though.

I'm leaving it open until I get back from the courthouse tomorrow because they want the jury (and everybody else) there bright and early and today was plenty tiring.

>>6020452
>Nah, that sounded good to you. Though the teahouse would have to air out the scent of trash a bit.

I return from the house of law.

>>6021462
One more for going along with the Mag.

Updating.

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“Sounds good t’ me,” you said, “We see those faces and y’ get a score, and you clear out so the teahouse can stop smelling like trash.” You could have demanded more- but you felt merciful this day. Or not so willing to aggress on these guys in case they actually were somebody important, though you doubted that anybody who was worth anything would be fighting over a singular drab blueblood girl in some hill teahouse. They were probably some fourth or sixth son from a second marriage. Full of nothing but hot air and ambition before the Academy beat them into something vaguely useful.

Blutig snorted and went to his bike, folded out the kickstart. “That smug look’ll be great to watch melt! Let’s get this on!”

No waiting or declaration of starting then, huh? Too bad you were already wise to it. Everybody’s bikes were running with only fractions of seconds between, and a cacophony of engine screams echoed about the hills as you all sailed down the road in scattered order, feeling out just how fast you could go before any curves or turns sapped speed.

This was dirty racing still, though, and you considered your options in the moments while nobody had any plan. You had derringers- but that’d be a questionable escalation. You also had a knife, which might slash a tire with a good throw or pass. Again, killing anybody here wouldn’t fly well. Frankly, you didn’t have much going for you when it came to using force even if you weren’t at a disadvantage by default before having a weakened arm. The Sleeves, on the other hand, probably had blunt instruments which they beat each other and rival gangs with, that could smash fingers and handlebars or break faces, bruise legs. That meant the best tactic would probably be to avoid letting them get close, whether that meant tailing them, or just keeping speed ahead.

Either way, the time to decide how you wanted to do this was coming. The first turn approached- the careful decision of accelerating through it and risking your balance for a lead had to be contested against staying close, or even staying behind for a bit. If you went far enough ahead, it would force your rivals to race riskier to try and catch up. Risks they might not have the skill or luck to make successfully.

>Gun it. The sooner the Sleeves eat your dust, the sooner they’ll accept that they like the taste.
>No risks or surrender this early on. Maybe in trying to mess around instead of focusing on the road, these thugs will screw up before things have even started.
>Honestly, you could afford to toy with them. They were probably four to six years younger. Let them have the lead for a bit- like the kids they were.
>Other?

Not all the things I want ready are yet due to recent scheduling chaos. The clip will be picked up again tomorrow so things resolve nice and quick.

>>6022546
>Gun it. The sooner the Sleeves eat your dust, the sooner they’ll accept that they like the taste.
If there's one thing Anya learned from her mother it's to move as fast as you can, especially when it comes to men.

>>6022546
>>Gun it. The sooner the Sleeves eat your dust, the sooner they’ll accept that they like the taste.

>>6022546
>>Gun it. The sooner the Sleeves eat your dust, the sooner they’ll accept that they like the taste.

>>6022546
>>Honestly, you could afford to toy with them. They were probably four to six years younger. Let them have the lead for a bit- like the kids they were.

>>6022546
>No risks or surrender this early on. Maybe in trying to mess around instead of focusing on the road, these thugs will screw up before things have even started.

>>6022546
>Honestly, you could afford to toy with them. They were probably four to six years younger. Let them have the lead for a bit- like the kids they were.

>>6022546
>Honestly, you could afford to toy with them. They were probably four to six years younger. Let them have the lead for a bit- like the kids they were.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DL8QGNUB4Hk

>>6022546
>Gun it
We should reserve the option to shoot out their tires with derringers though.

>>6022546
>>No risks or surrender this early on. Maybe in trying to mess around instead of focusing on the road, these thugs will screw up before things have even started.

>>6022551
>>6022563
>>6022583
>>6022915
Gun it. Perhaps somewhat literally. Speed is everything.
Wouldn't you appreciate Von Tracht in another reality.

>>6022594
>>6022668
>>6022766
Play with them. This might as well be a game, for children. Like them.

>>6022660
>>6023003
Let them have their place- letting them be behind you is a reward they haven't earned.

Updating.

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You turned your wrist sharply and gunned the throttle- the drive wheel spurred up, and tried to make the bike lurch into the air- you let it, but only for a moment. There was a balance to letting the machine roar and reminding it who was in charge- a slim one. As for everybody behind you who hadn’t been as quick to get going, you were going to make them work hard for first place- if they ate your dust the whole race, by the end, everybody, Magnus included, if need be, would be used to its taste. It was a mercy really. If nobody tried to catch you, then that spoke more than enough for itself.

>Speed Increased- Maneuver Skill Checks raised by 1.

It was a risky move, but what was life if you lived it afraid of something so small as a weaving series of turns? It approached ever faster- and if you wanted to keep your momentum, you’d have to trust skill and instinct both to keep you going fearlessly forward.

>Roll 3 sets of 1d10, DC roll over 5. Lucky Razor adds 1 to a single roll. Each Failure deals 1 Stability Damage.

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>6023084

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>6023084

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>6023084

>>6023086
One Good.

>>6023099
>>6023205
Two Poor.

The subtle press of the Lucky Razor on fate is not enough to tip either balance.

Well, no worries, you've got a max bar of three points for a reason. Updating.

Rolled 1, 2, 7 = 10 (3d10)

Should include this too, forgot to.
Certain obstacles are only taken at a certain speed, it should be said, if that wasn't implied well enough.

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>One Success, Two Failures- 2 Stability Damage Taken

Close. Too close, you swore in a voice that couldn’t be heard over the motorcycle as you dipped perilously off the road and bounced up and down, shook back and forth, speeding over the edges of the curves, avoiding turning as much as possible, but what you gained for speed you lost in sureness of balance. A quick glance behind- the closest person was the red bandanna guy, who had blazed the same trail you had for similar punishment, anybody else probably taking things slower, based on you not seeing them right away.

Okay. So, the guy who wanted to snipe a date from you was the most motivated. Maybe Magnus was dealing with the second, and that’s why he wasn’t hot on your tail to be the first to grab your bum. No time to file that away, though- a long sweeping turn around the hill was coming, and it was time to decide on whether your speed was still as important- or if you should risk slowing down to gain control again.

>Oncoming Obstacle- Wide Turn- 2 DC 3 Roll Over Checks at current speed 3, 2 DC 4s at Speed 4.

If you did that, the guy behind would surely catch up, but then again, he already seemed pretty uncertain on his balance. Keeping up the speed, if you could do it, would force him to reconsider his own…

>Keep going as fast as you can. In fact, go faster. Put so much distance between anybody else that you’d be the one coming from behind to give their asscheeks a swat. (Increase Speed)
>Slow up. If the guy behind you wasn’t a complete moron, he’d be slowing up too. Status Quo- with you still in first. (Lower Speed by 1- Restore 1 Stability)
>Kill your speed and let the red bandanna overtake you. If he blew past you, he couldn’t act- and you’d gain a chance for a breather. (Lower Speed by 2 to raise Stability to Max)
>Other?

>>6023240
>>Slow up. If the guy behind you wasn’t a complete moron, he’d be slowing up too. Status Quo- with you still in first. (Lower Speed by 1- Restore 1 Stability)

>>6023240
>Slow up. If the guy behind you wasn’t a complete moron, he’d be slowing up too. Status Quo- with you still in first. (Lower Speed by 1- Restore 1 Stability)

>>6023240
>Keep going as fast as you can. In fact, go faster. Put so much distance between anybody else that you’d be the one coming from behind to give their asscheeks a swat. (Increase Speed)
Fuck it we ball

>>6023240
>Slow up
>Toss a banana peel behind us

>>6023240
>Slow up. If the guy behind you wasn’t a complete moron, he’d be slowing up too. Status Quo- with you still in first. (Lower Speed by 1- Restore 1 Stability)

>>6023321
+1

>>6023255
>>6023257
>>6023321
>>6023330
>>6023347
Slow down and recover some.
Wonder at the luxury of a banana (they're not particularly available right now)

>>6023308
That speedometer ain't maxed out yet.

Updating.

Rolled 8, 5 = 13 (2d10)

Right, this is probably necessary too.
Requires 2 roll over 4 ups, here.

File: scene64_elbowroom.jpg (471 KB, 1200x786)

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You eased off the throttle and leaned gently into the curve that ringed the hill you were rounding now- you could use a breather, you figured, and whoever was behind you, whatever his dumb name for himself was, he could zoom up to you at his own risk. If he dared to, you’d figure it out there on the spot. You’d be more ready for it now at least. That was what you thought as you glanced again over your shoulder.

Except, you’d underestimated the luck or skill of this idiot, because he was gaining on you, fast, and most of the way through the curve, he budged in on the inside and was immediately beside you, though no steadier on his ride.

He wasn’t in any place to try and make a strike at you, suffice it to say, but maybe, you were in a place to do the same? Whatever you did, the time to choose was soon. The stretch of road coming up was easy- a place to gain speed without fear. Undoubtedly where any stragglers would be catching up very quickly.

>Time for you to speed back up then. You knew this thing could go faster- and you weren’t going easy. (Increase Speed)
>Cute. Let the kid have a break, see what he did. Maybe it’d be good for a laugh later. Be ready for any tricks. (No Speed Change- Recover Stability)
>A perfect opportunity to teach a valuable lesson. Give his bike a good boot. (Make an Attack Roll and spend a Stability Point)
>Other?

>>6023465
>KICK HIM OVER

Captch: TAXY
Guess he's not driving back home

>>6023465
>A perfect opportunity to teach a valuable lesson. Give his bike a good boot.

>>6023465
>A perfect opportunity to teach a valuable lesson. Give his bike a good boot. (Make an Attack Roll and spend a Stability Point)

>>6023465
>>Time for you to speed back up then. You knew this thing could go faster- and you weren’t going easy. (Increase Speed)
We can win this clean; our machine is faster. Save the dirty fighting for when we need it.

>>6023465
>Time for you to speed back up then. You knew this thing could go faster- and you weren’t going easy. (Increase Speed)

>>6023465
>Time for you to speed back up then. You knew this thing could go faster- and you weren’t going easy. (Increase Speed)

>>6023465
>A perfect opportunity to teach a valuable lesson. Give his bike a good boot. (Make an Attack Roll and spend a Stability Point)

>>6023471
>>6023503
>>6023511
>>6023728
A little shove sometimes sends somebody down the right path in life.

>>6023531
>>6023536
>>6023551
The only race you care about is yours.

Updating- Once I have a couple of d10 rolls. The better roll is picked, DC is roll above 4.

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>6023816

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>6023816

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>6023816

File: scene65_mightaswellkickit.jpg (448 KB, 1200x796)

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He wasn’t focused on you- he was trying to keep himself upright and going straight. Now was as good a time as ever to be a responsible senior, and teach a valuable lesson. You swept your bike sideways, leaned sideways to get the leverage you needed, and snapped out your boot to drive the full force of a stomp sideways into the flank of this rival racer's machine.

The difference in size between you and the mass of this guy and his bike combined was substantial. You were short, you were a woman, but in spite of that, the human leg couldn’t afford to not have strength afforded to it. As Hell had drilled you in two lessons to spit in the face of poor odds- one, that pride was no reason to use a pistol to use a rifle’s job, and two, that it only took a bit of steel in the right place to end any beast.
>Attack Made- -1 Stability
>DC 4- Rolled 8- Success

Your foot struck true, and the Sleeve veered off road and drove into a bush with a sharp rustling of brush, then veered off behind, covered in leaves and twigs, before spinning out on the other side of the road, tumbling down the hill. The fall would build character, you thought as you left him behind.
>Blutig has been Eliminated from the Race

One down. Another glance told you that you could relax- nobody was coming up right from behind- yet.
>Straight Road- +1 Stability

The easy rest was done as the straightaway climbed upwards, as the next turn curved more sharply around a higher section of hill. At your speed, it was easy to lean into, but upon taking that one easy, you heard the sound of a bike coming up from behind.

Magnus. About time- he was unmistakable, for the cowl of black hair that billowed behind him. He wasn’t accompanied- you wondered if he’d dealt with his guy like you had yours, or if he’d left him in his afterimage, and that last place was going to make a surprise appearance to try and snatch the win despite seeming beyond reason. That’d be the admirable thing, but these guys wouldn’t be that. Yet, rather than ever, if you were being generous.

The only person you particularly cared about in this race was coming up at a leisurely pace- you wondered- should you beat him out, too? Or was this practically already over?

>You weren’t so easy. Make him catch you. You hadn’t said there’d be a penalty for him losing, but you’d think of something along the way.
>Hang back and match your place with Magnus. If there was more dirty racing in the second lap, then it’d be best to be together.
>Kill your speed and see if anybody’s yet to come up behind. You’d deal with him if there was- let Magnus have the lead for now.
>Other?

>>6024018
>Hang back and match your place with Magnus. If there was more dirty racing in the second lap, then it’d be best to be together.
>Flirt furiously

>>6024018
>Hang back and match your place with Magnus. If there was more dirty racing in the second lap, then it’d be best to be together.

>>6024018
>Hang back and match your place with Magnus. If there was more dirty racing in the second lap, then it’d be best to be together.

>>6024018
>Hang back and match your place with Magnus. If there was more dirty racing in the second lap, then it’d be best to be together.

>>6024018
>>You weren’t so easy. Make him catch you. You hadn’t said there’d be a penalty for him losing, but you’d think of something along the way.

>>6024018
>Smoke him too

>>6024021
>>6024022
>>6024026
>>6024056
Resume Date.
Flirt in an unspecified way- unless you wish to specify.

>>6024057
>>6024060
Play hard to get- by demanding to be caught, or else...

I've got work for tonight soon, so I won't call it until I get back.

>>6024018
>>Hang back and match your place with Magnus. If there was more dirty racing in the second lap, then it’d be best to be together.

>>6024018
>>Hang back and match your place with Magnus. If there was more dirty racing in the second lap, then it’d be best to be together.

I return.
>>6024118
>>6024273
Two more for buddying up.
If you like this guy so much why don't you marry him.

Updating.

File: scene66_laststretch.jpg (484 KB, 1200x788)

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If there was to be more dirty racing in the second lap- in case anybody else was still going- you’d rather not have either of you be by yourself anymore. Not that you were much concerned, but it never hurt to be careful when you could with just a little effort. With a release of the throttle and a light squeeze of the brakes, you let Magnus catch up beside you, steadily, and leaned over towards him.

“Hey boy,” you called out over the engines with a wide grin, “You lose your lover? You’re lookin’ lonely!”

“He overestimated himself,” Magnus called back without a beat, “You must be feeling cocky to slow up, just because the other man took a tumble!”

“What, they gonna get back up and smoke us?” You had to laugh at the implication, “We’re just going one more lap t’ make sure they ain’t dead, y’know!”

“They’re fine. They’re young and foolish. I remember being like them, once.”

“Better not be feelin’ too much pity for ‘em to make ‘em show their faces!” You challenged, “You tryin’ to make me jealous?”

“You’ve already forgotten you’re in a contest, Anya?” Magnus asked with a sly tilt of his head, “This is still a race, even if it’s down to half. Finish it in first, or I’ll make you cover your navel!”

He accelerated, and left you behind, caught off guard. He hadn’t said anything about your shorts…but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to make him admit he liked you showing off like this. You leaned back and let the throttle carry you forward, the front wheel lifting off the ground with a lurch for just a moment as you closed on the rider ahead…

He didn’t make it easy for you, regardless of what you expected. You passed both places where the Sleeves had failed to display proper skill at handling their cycles, but they were nowhere to be found, nor their bikes. Probably just ran off when they realized they had no chance of winning anymore. Wusses. If you were that girl they were hanging around, you’d be dry as summer dust right now.

They didn’t matter right now, though. They were out of the race, the hills, and may as well have launched themselves towards the stars for all you cared. Slightly behind Magnus, the finish line of the village you’d started from approached uphill, behind that initial twisting road that had been troublesome at the start. This time, though, you were going much faster…and you’d have to go faster still to overtake Magnus.

>Maybe you didn’t mind being dressed to Magnus’s preference. Let him have this- by only a bit.
>Time to win. Full throttle, even if it’d be tough to keep that speed and keep your balance at the same time.
>Other?

>>6024887
>Time to win. Full throttle, even if it’d be tough to keep that speed and keep your balance at the same time
Fight and Win, Magnus.

>>6024887
>Time to win. Full throttle, even if it’d be tough to keep that speed and keep your balance at the same time.

>>6024887
>Time to win. Full throttle, even if it’d be tough to keep that speed and keep your balance at the same time.
Navel gang NAVEL GANG

>>6024887
>Time to win. Full throttle, even if it’d be tough to keep that speed and keep your balance at the same time.

>>6024890
>>6024903
>>6024921
>>6024950
The Top, then. Be it, for it, own it.

I'll be needing 3 rolls of 1d10, then. DC 7 roll over. Lucky Razor gives +1 to one.

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>6024953

>>6024887
>Time to win. Full throttle, even if it’d be tough to keep that speed and keep your balance at the same time.
I forget, do the school bikes have a speed governor on them?

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>6024953
Oh well too late to vote.

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>6024953

>>6024955
>>6024960
>>6024963
There's a tradition being followed here, isn't there.
Updating.

Sorry for the delay, went to sleep early and woke up late and then an errand ate into the time I had for finishing the update, and now I'm going somewhere for dinner.
So basically, I'll be updating once I get back. If it were text alone I could have done it yesterday...ah well. If only I had an hour to spare.

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You’d decided it by now- you were winning, right here at the last dash. Damn any obstacles, you made it over once, you could do it again, in spite of how fast you were going.
As soon as you pulled the throttle forth and shot forward, though, the terrain surprised you. Bucked you back and forth, shook you, and in an instant, you were struggling to keep the rebelling machine under you, let alone going where you wanted.

“Shit-!” You swore and, unavoidable heading off the road now, you shielded yourself with your good arm and aimed for a soft looking mass of foliage. The bike whined as it went from having two wheels on the ground to none, and it followed you into the leaves, steadily winding down as the shock left your nerves and left you dumped on your back under the motorcycle. A small wriggling took you from under its weight, and you gasped for breath as you took stock of what had happened. You weren’t impaled on anything, you weren’t smashed on anything, everything could move…

The other motorbike sputtered as it drew near, and boots tromped through the undergrowth.

“Are you alright?” Magnus said to you as he knelt down beside, “Is winning that important, Lady Nowicki? Judge Above.”

“Psh.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’ve had way worse.”

Maybe fine was a lie. You felt sore all over and the brush you’d cushioned the crash with had paid you back by prickling and scratching whatever it could. The motorcycle ran against you hard enough that your thigh felt pretty bruised- an ankle might have been sprained, but you would have to see if it walked off. Compared to what you’d experienced in the past, though, your pride was more hurt than your body.
>-1 Health

Magnus reached his hand toward you, but you pushed yourself up without taking his grip, flopping a few times to get clear of the bush before rocking unsteadily on your feet, brushing off the sticks and leaves. More importantly, you hauled the VAM-6C up from where it had fallen on you, and checked it over. Clicked your tongue.

“I’ll have t’ report that…” you said, rubbing a sore spot on your hip that went to your heinie. It had a healthy amount of padding for good reason, you supposed. The motorcycle wasn’t so lucky, being dinged and scratched, though not broken, and the seat had been torn open by a sharp bit of broken branch. You touched over your behind just in case a similar tear had been made for you. It hadn’t. The piece of clothing that had taken the most punishment had been the thick leather jacket, and your tights, made of thinner fabric intolerant of anything more than the stretching of legs.

Though you could stretch your legs to a degree that tougher tights had been necessary by default anyways.

File: scene68_returntothecafe.jpg (427 KB, 1000x1050)

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"How is your arm?" Magnus asked, "Do you need to be taken to a clinic?"

"No, I don't," you said grumpily. It did hurt, and what happened couldn't have been good for it, but it didn't hurt any more than the rest of you that had been banged up did.

Once it was untangled from the brush, the motorcycle was once more ridden, in a less triumphant arrival than you wished as you rode it to a place to park next to Magnus. Again, the Sleeves nor their rides were nowhere to be found. Good. At least you’d have the teahouse to yourself.

You couldn’t hide a small limp when you started walking, but brushed away Magnus’s outstretched arm that he offered, implying permission to cling to it. Some other time. You weren’t in a mood for that when nursing a close defeat.

“Guess I oughta find a shirt,” you sulked as you both went through the teahouse door, the entry bell tinkling cheerily.

“That can wait,” Magnus said, “Tea soothes in many ways. I’d rather you take your next crack at dressing yourself with a cooled head and a warmed heart.” He passed by the teahouse owner. “Did the youths depart?” he asked.

The older man nodded. “I ought to thank you for that.”

“Not too loudly,” Magnus said, “Should they return, we should not seem in leagues.”

“Even so. You should at least have the courtesy of free service. Seat yourself, and I will bring you a menu to peruse. Anything you wish, you both may have free of charge.”
Your stomach growled in anticipation, and nobody commented on it. The menu was glanced over as Magnus led you to a window seat on the other side from where the Sleeves had been, and he pulled out the chairs for you and him both, and sat.

You had been distracted by the page, and pondered if you really needed your own chair…

>He’d pulled out the chair for you like a gentleman. Show some appreciation and take it.
>Sit on Magnus’s lap instead. You’re his girlfriend, you get to do that. No matter what some might think.
>Make your seat between his legs. Insist on it. You'd also have to insist on a shoulder massage.
>Other?
Also-
>Keep it light. Now wasn’t the time to mess up this carefully cultivated figure. Just tea is fine.
>Surely you deserved some reward for what you’d been through today. Tea and a pastry would make you feel a lot better. Hopefully without loosening your tummy.
>You were famished, and Magnus wanted your middle covered anyways. Time to pig out.
>Something else?
And-
>Talk about something/do anything with Magnus in particular here?

>>6026329
>He’d pulled out the chair for you like a gentleman. Show some appreciation and take it.
>Surely you deserved some reward for what you’d been through today. Tea and a pastry would make you feel a lot better. Hopefully without loosening your tummy.
>Talk about something/do anything with Magnus in particular here?
Nothing pressing I don't think, but if we're trying to shoot the shit we can absolutely do that.

>>6026329
>He’d pulled out the chair for you like a gentleman. Show some appreciation and take it.
>Surely you deserved some reward for what you’d been through today. Tea and a pastry would make you feel a lot better. Hopefully without loosening your tummy.
>Talk about something/do anything with Magnus in particular here?
Should probably tell him about the Kommissariat remnants snooping around

>>6026329
Supper tan >>6026339

>>6026329
>Make your seat between his legs. Insist on it. You'd also have to insist on a shoulder massage

>Surely you deserved some reward for what you’d been through today. Tea and a pastry would make you feel a lot better. Hopefully without loosening your tummy.

>>6026339
This please

Supporting >>6026339

>>6026339
+1

>>6026329
>Sit on Magnus’s lap instead. You’re his girlfriend, you get to do that. No matter what some might think.
>Surely you deserved some reward for what you’d been through today. Tea and a pastry would make you feel a lot better. Hopefully without loosening your tummy.
>Tell him about the Komissariat

Alright, long day at court today. Testing things from a new computer, will call things in about an hour or so.

>>6026335
>>6026339
>>6026340
>>6026408
>>6026454
>>6026505
Take the profferred seat. Drink tea and eat.

>>6026860
Your seat just sat down.

>>6026378
Move aggressively.

I'm finishing moving over my files to the new computer, I'll update from there.

Sorry for the delay, things will be out soon. I've just felt really dried out these past couple of days.

>>6028816
thats no good; i only like my QMs to be moist and supple. do something about that.

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You weren’t much one for gentlemanly behavior, but if you reframed it as knightly, you could sigh to yourself and accept having your chair pulled out for you as something you liked. So, you sat across from Magnus, and brushed your hand over the laminated menu. The items were listed in deep red handwritten script on a deep cream background, like antique paper. Perhaps they were antiques, but it was impossible for somebody like you to tell with these places.

Magnus had become instantly engrossed by the list, but you flicked your eyes back and forth to him. When it came to tea, you planned to just have what he had. An indignant growl from your gun made you keenly aware of its emptiness, though, and your eyes went further down the menu page to the pastries. They were all cool or chilled in nature. Finger sandwiches, each with a different sort of sweet filling of whipped cream and fruit preserves, caught the eye. They were simple and straightforward, and you’d had enough mystery food for today.

The person who collected your orders wasn’t the older man- it was a young girl, a slight young waif who couldn’t have been older than your little sister. Probably scared into hiding by the thugs that had just been run off. What a soft place this was, for people like those Sleeves to scare anybody at all.

“That tea we’re getting,” you said, “Blackberry?”

“Blackberry, sage, lavender, honey and lemon,” Magnus recited, “A sweeter profile than I usually drink.”

“Sounds like it’s got everything in it but tea leaves,” you said as you glanced out the window. Would this place stay empty as it was with the Sleeves gone? You hadn’t come here intending to do any service like that. Hell liked to bask more in heroism than money, but most of the time in the dust, mercenary work benefiting locals was more happenstance than anything.

“Strossvald would not pride itself so much on a product prepared and shipped from Zhantao,” Magnus said, “The Archduchy can preen like Emre and bluster like the Grossreich, but nobody is deluded enough to claim that they are wayward blood of the wandering dragon.”

You snickered at that. “Y’sure?”

Magnus paused. “It wouldn’t be very surprising.”

The teapot arrived, along with cups and odd mesh bags for the mix, the actual tisane being kept in its own pot- the sandwiches also arrived, and each thing was tucked into.

“If I may ask,” Magnus said, “You and Von Blum speaking with each other. Was it anything important? The two of you meeting seems…odd. Especially with what you’ve told me about your relationship. She is Von Tracht’s wife, no?”

“Huh?” You blinked, “No, her sister is. They look exactly the same, I know.”

“Hm.” Magnus made a noise of mixed puzzlement and apathy, pouring water into his teacup, steam billowing up and out. “Then you don’t even know one another.”

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“Not really?” Though it seemed you’d be meeting more often in the future. “She wanted to ask for somethin’, and tell me somethin’, too. She’s chasing after Van Halm, and he asked me t’ help shake her off. Then she asked me t’ stop doing that.”

Magnus looked up at you with a cocked eyebrow. “I hope he doesn’t take offense to that.”

“He won’t,” you brushed the implication aside and picked up a finger sandwich. It looked like you could eat the whole thing at once. Maybe you ought to try, to see if you could fit something like-

“Anya, don’t choke yourself,” Magnus scolded, “We’re in no hurry, are we?”

Psh. You wouldn’t share that part, yet. “She told me somethin’ about a bunch of strays from the old guard over in Netilland, part of the old Council Kommissariat, wandering around these parts. Deep cover operatives along with people just out and about. She put it like a warning, I guess.”

Magnus’s shoulders went stiff, and he stared at you. “Pardon? Why…how would they be here? How would this Von Blum girl know?”

“She said her family poached them, since they want experts, and in exchange they offered safe passage and a place far away t’ go. Some of them got stupid ideas, apparently. Mathilda warned that we ought t’ be careful, is all.”

Magnus pinched his brow and grimaced, “Why didn’t you say this when-” He leaned heavily on the table, “This is bad. I ought to take Yuliana and leave as soon as we can. We can handle this later, when the danger has passed-”

“No.” You interrupted sharply, “I didn’t bring it up because I’m not afraid of them. An’ you ain’t either. You aren’t goin’ nowhere.” You gestured aggressively with the sandwich. “Got it?”

Magnus frowned at you, face set in a fixing glare. “You’re underestimating this situation, Lady Nowicki. The Kommissariat was always extremely adept at hiding itself and operating with odds against them, and I made no attempt to conceal my or Yuliana’s plans to come here.”

“They weren’t so tough when they had all the power and influence they could ask for,” you pointed out. “On their home turf too. Mathilda said they’d only try and act like biker thugs. I’m about as scared as I’d be of a bottle of flat cola. Besides.” You reached into your shorts and drew one of your derringers out, “I’m always ready for surprises.”

Magnus paused, weighing his words. “You still should have said something then.”

“Fine. I should’a.” You relented with a pout, “I just didn’t want it gettin’ in the way of…this, y’know?”

Magnus’s expression softened again. “I understand,” he said, his voice softening as well.

From there, you spent the midday in idle conversation, relaxed, no stresses in the world save for the temperature of the tea- which you liked more than you expected. Maybe this teahouse wasn’t boasted about nothing.

But you couldn’t help but notice how Magnus kept glancing out the window instead of looking at you.

-----

The two of you, done with lunch and with a race out of the way, had mounted back up to ride back into Strosstadt. Magnus didn’t want to keep the pale haired cunt waiting for too long- and for your part, if coming back sooner meant getting her out of your way quicker, you’d tolerate a short date.

It was on the way back into the city outskirts, however, that you noticed a trio of other bikers following you- from far enough away to not be a threat, but they couldn’t help but stick out. In the way that youth gangs often did- they were dressed all in darks and blacks. You knew the sort- they called themselves the Bastardhorner- the Bastards’ Horns. They skirmished with the Sleeves plenty, being from similar societal roots, acting out rivalries they couldn’t show anywhere except in the streets and alleys, masked. After all- some were probably half-brothers or half-sisters.

They were as brutish and proud as the Sleeves nevertheless, and despite you being a bastard yourself, they would have felt no camaraderie with your origins. They might have been illegitimate children, but they knew who their parents were. Meanwhile your mother might as well have been plowed by half the men in the Dustlands. Her womb had been a garbage pit, just like the trash pile you'd found her corpse dumped in.

Suffice it to say, the Bastards’ Horns would have liked to take your bikes or assert their turf just the same, if tempted.

They were a bit cagey for young thugs, though, and Magnus seemed to notice that too. They kept their distance when you stopped, were always a certain distance away. Were they just keeping an eye on you…or were they not what they outwardly seemed?

The streets seemed oddly dry of constables around here, too. Not unusual for some biker gang territories lately- it seemed the local constabularies either had funding cut or they were doing favors- but it meant you couldn’t just flag down an officer and send them after these pursuers.

>Chase them down. If they’re bastard bikers, then they could be taught respect. If they weren’t, then they’d still need a lesson.
>Who cares. Let them follow you around. If they make things a problem, whoever they are, they’ll be dealt with.
> You weren’t fond of creeps hanging out behind you. Lose them. Lead them through the city until they can’t follow you or you ditch them.
>Other?

In the interest of time, no third pic, sorry.

>>6028921
>Who cares. Let them follow you around. If they make things a problem, whoever they are, they’ll be dealt with.
Be ready for action, but if they wanna tail then why bother? Not like we're going somewhere secluded, unlike if we chased and they lead us to a trap.

>>6028921
>You weren’t fond of creeps hanging out behind you. Lose them. Lead them through the city until they can’t follow you or you ditch them.

>>6028921
>Who cares. Let them follow you around. If they make things a problem, whoever they are, they’ll be dealt with.

>>6028921
>You weren’t fond of creeps hanging out behind you. Lose them. Lead them through the city until they can’t follow you or you ditch them.

>>6028921
>> You weren’t fond of creeps hanging out behind you. Lose them. Lead them through the city until they can’t follow you or you ditch them.
It's date time, dammit. Lose them and return to attempting to suck face.

>>6028921
>>Who cares. Let them follow you around. If they make things a problem, whoever they are, they’ll be dealt with.

>>6028921
>You weren’t fond of creeps hanging out behind you. Lose them. Lead them through the city until they can’t follow you or you ditch them.

>>6028921
>You weren’t fond of creeps hanging out behind you. Lose them. Lead them through the city until they can’t follow you or you ditch them.

>>6028929
>>6028936
>>6029060
Your fanclub grows. You can hardly deny admirers the privilege to look, can you?

>>6028930
>>6028937
>>6029026
>>6029194
>>6029243
More people who want to eat dust. Order up, then.

Updating.

File: scene71_bastardneighborhood.jpg (322 KB, 1100x872)

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“Let’s leave those creeps behind,” you leaned over to Magnus and said, both of you waiting behind an automobile at a traffic lamp. “They won’t follow us everywhere, and if they do, then we can lose them easy enough.” You’d been around Strosstadt long enough to know how. Though that only made things even.
Magnus looked back, then at you. “I half expected you to want to confront them…”

“Nah. Not right now,” you said, “I don’t feel like it.” Especially when you didn’t want any distractions besides the one on another VAM-6C next to you. With a pointing finger, you gestured to where you wanted to abscond to. “There’s a straightaway down that corner that heads straight into the Factory District, then it turns into a mess. We turn away from that at the right time and it’ll seem like we’ve gone right into it, and even if they catch that, it’s going into the Silversmith District where there’s Fangers every other street.”

Dog catchers- obviously metaphorical ones, but Magnus didn’t misunderstand the local slang.

“Lead the way, then,” Magnus said. “Though if they know where Yuliana is staying, they might just double back…”

“We’ll see if they like me or her better then, yeah?” You smirked, “The lights ain’t law in this part of town, let’s get goin’.”

So you sped on, confident that Magnus could keep up with you, even though you weren’t giving this your all anyways. You only looked back while on the so-called Herzstrasse, the wide straight road where trucks and trains on the rails beside were constantly moving goods back and forth. In the mornings it was utterly clogged, but not now in early afternoon. Yet, there was no cause for concern. You saw none of the black clad pursuers anymore. Still, you went along the same path as planned, and waited in the Silversmith district with Magnus in case they did try and chase you down.

Still nothing.

“They’re either not very spirited,” Magnus surmised as you waited around a corner from the main road into the Silversmith district, “Or very patient.”

“Or they just suck,” you said. You couldn’t complain, though. More time with Magnus. Less time around the gum wad clinging to his boots.

“Yuliana shouldn’t be kept waiting for too long,” Magnus sighed.

“She was fine waiting for you for years,” you commented with a huff.

Magnus didn’t address that. “Is there a place we can keep the bikes here? We’ll have to come back for them for your idea at your duel, anyways, and anybody watching out will be expecting the noise of motorcycles.”

Riding in a cab instead of motorcycles? Feh. “Yeah, I know a place for cadets to park stuff.” The Silversmith district served plenty of them and their families as customers, after all. “You have money for a taxi, yeah?”

“Of course.” Good, because you didn’t have your wallet.

-----

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The driver you and Magnus hired was relatively pricey, given that he was somebody who serviced clientele with paunchy wallets, but Magnus didn’t complain about the price, and had him take you both directly to the hotel where he and Yuliana were staying. There weren’t any dark clad Bastards’ Horns about, let alone following you, when you walked in.

The hotel itself, despite being near a shady part of town, wasn’t a run-down building or poorly serviced. It was just adjacent to part of the Capital that, once, had been better patrolled. That said it was nothing fancy either, and you had no doubt it had been selected for budgetary reasons rather than preference. Strosstadt was certainly not a place you’d want to go to be a tourist.

Still, the place was ten stories tall. Not a small building- and the length of time on the elevator to get up to Yuliana’s room on the ninth…there weren’t many things that scared you, but you couldn’t help but feel nervous knowing how high up you were.

When you arrived at Yuliana’s room and she opened the door, wearing something different from the gaudy metallic top she had on before, replacing it with a simple sleeveless number with a singular indulgence to fanciness emblazoned in the center of the chest- the back was absent til below the shoulder blades, you noted. The silver haired woman was bright and cheery upon seeing Magnus…then her expression darkened at you only a little, then more, as she recognized you after a moment, shifting her eyes to scan your outfit. A big change from the pile of silks you had on before.

“Magnus,” she said, eyes cold on you, “A streetwalker seems to have stuck herself to you...and stolen my ribbon.”

“Nah,” you pushed yourself into the room ahead of Magnus and past Yuliana, your hand pushing on her chest and swinging her aside like a second door, “Ain’t no whores who dress like this, certainly not around here.”

“Have some peace for just a moment,” Magnus interrupted before either of you could try to stick in further barbs, placing himself between you. “Yuliana. We must discuss the terms of yourCiecieksiczyca trials.”

Yuliana’s expression hardened. “Very well.” She glanced to you. “Yours first, then.”

“Motorcycles,” you said, jerking your thumb behind you, “They’re ready whenever. Me on one, you on the other. Straight patch of road to get some speed. We play chicken. Whoever turns away or eats shit after the pass, loses. Like jousting, y’know?”

“I accept.” Yuliana said defiantly. “I expected you to pick something less fair. I wouldn’t have a hope in a race.”

“I wanted t’ make it interesting,” you returned, “What’s yours, then?”

“In respect to your own allowance,” Yuliana seemed to mull over something, “I propose cooking. The heart is connected to the stomach. Satisfying both is a necessity to any pairing. You should be willing to prove your worth or lack thereof.”

“I’ll accept.” You said, without thinking, as you would have no matter what she threw down on the table. Yet it was as Magnus said she’d say, and as you knew that you had no chance of really winning. “Who judges?”

“The man whom is being contended for,” Yuliana said, with an uncertain glance to Magnus. “I have a proposal for you, Nowicki.”

“Not Dust Whore?”

“Not for now.” Yuliana grit her teeth, “Even though your challenge is simple, I have no experience riding a motorcycle. Some hours spent learning would do me well, even for driving it in a straight line. Meanwhile, this would allow you precious hours to learn cookery better.” She paused and appraised you. “Would that be a fair deal to you?”

>Sure. You’d take any advantage you could get, frankly…
>Refuse. You’re both ready. You’ll both go for it. You didn’t need any handicap.
>Other?
Also-
>You are now obligated to cover your navel. Thinking about what to do for an outfit change and to what degree will come up. Not every piece of clothing need be changed.

>>6030710
>Sure. You’d take any advantage you could get, frankly…
Alright Anya, what we do is make a simple butter basted steak.

>>6030710
>Refuse. You’re both ready. You’ll both go for it. You didn’t need any handicap.
Motorcycle jousting is a contest of guts, not skill. Yuliana only needs enough skill not to fall off, and it's absolutely possible she can obtain it in a few hours. Cooking, on the other hand, is more complex, and we have no one to teach us.

>>6030710
>Sure. You’d take any advantage you could get, frankly…

>>6030710
>Refuse. You’re both ready. You’ll both go for it. You didn’t need any handicap.
We already have years of experience making shitty military rations palatable on our side, and just adding pepper is surely half the battle won.

>>6030710
>Refuse. You’re both ready. You’ll both go for it. You didn’t need any handicap.
>>6030709
Anya looks way too mildly inconvenienced to be being held back the way she is here, but I guess Magnus knows her well enough to know that he needs to bar her like that.

>>6030710
>Refuse. You’re both ready. You’ll both go for it. You didn’t need any handicap.
You can't learn how to cook in a few hours.

>>6030710
>>Refuse. You’re both ready. You’ll both go for it. You didn’t need any handicap.

>>6030712
>>6030717
Get some very speedy lessons.

>>6030716
>>6030739
>>6030775
>>6030779
>>6030862
No stalling, fat chest.

Updating.

>>6030775
>Anya looks way too mildly inconvenienced to be being held back the way she is here, but I guess Magnus knows her well enough to know that he needs to bar her like that.
You weren't throwing hands earlier, it's true, but you've also preemptively agreed to a knife fight. He's a bit cautious, suffice it to say.
Especially considering one of the most important tactics in Saeker's The Fiercest Prey is utilizing the element of surprise in seizing the initiative, and when and how such surprise might be achieved through misleading of character assumptions.

Plot twist, Anya manages to win the cookout and we never even get to the knife fight.

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Saying you knew how to cook would be an outright lie. The best you knew how to do was putting a char on canned meat and melting cheese in bread. Boiling water and letting an egg sit in it. How much could you really learn in a few hours? Probably less than Yuliana could benefit from being around the motorcycles.

“Nah. I refuse.” You said to Yuliana’s proposal, “We’re both ready, far as I can see. I don’t need any handicap. Let’s just get to it.”

Yuliana’s eyebrow twitched, and contempt returned to her glare. “So be it. I’ve no doubts how this will be settled, regardless.” She glanced at you up and down again. “You’re looking worse for wear. Did a rough customer take you aside when you should have been with your officer?”

“Yuli.” Magnus said sharply, “Hold your tongue. Your insults are uncalled for and strike myself too.”

“I apologize.” Yuliana said flatly, and clearly to Magnus, not to you. Not that you cared. An insult with no truth to it didn’t sting.

“Save your bitterness for each other for when your contest turns violent, lest either of you spoil your cooking and try my patience both,” Magnus said with some smoldering tone you rarely heard outside of military context. “Lady Nowicki has-” Yuliana and you both scoffed at that title at the same time, “-elected not to adjourn your contests, but I don’t want you to start immediately. You lack for materials, after all.” He pulled a watch from his pocket and checked it. “It is one hour and thirty minutes. We’ll go to the market nearby and you two can buy what you need.”

“I don’t got much money on me,” you interjected. In fact, you had no money at all.

This seemed to give Magnus an idea. “Yuliana. Buy for both of you.”

An offended grimace spread across the bitch’s face. “What? No.”

“Would you rather I finance her, then?” Magnus challenged, and Yuliana’s tune changed.

“I suppose…” she grumbled, “It would only be fair, considering the difference in our means and bloodlines, that I should show generosity befitting mine…”

“Good girl.” Magnus reached out and brushed Yuliana’s hair behind her ear, and you saw her smile for the first time as his hand brushed her cheek- a twinge of fury caught you off guard and had to be pushed down into your bowels at the sight of this. You hadn’t felt the scorch of that sort of ember of jealousy falling on you for a long time.

Unfortunately, Yuliana caught scent of how much you'd tensed up, in spite of how brief the feeling had been, and her smile turned to an insufferably smug smirk. The expression that made you think of what she had said offhandedly, and that you hadn’t paid any mind to at the time. Because you didn’t care then upon hearing it, but part of you, seeing that face, did now.

Whatever. That feeling was stupid. Playing into her hands.

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You let a returning smirk crawl back across your lips instead of lamenting unimportant things. “Y’done with trainin’ the dog yet?” You said snidely, “Don’t got all day if we want t’ do anything in moonlight rather than sunrise.”

It wasn’t your best jab, but the lack of a counter gave you satisfaction enough, as Magnus took you both out the door.

“Ah, one more thing. Yuliana, Anya,” he said, carefully letting you two be next to one another, “Anya needs a new outfit. I am claiming my bounty from winning that race.” You huffed and rolled your eyes. “So. Yuliana. Along with your other shopping, do help Anya change her attire too, won’t you?”

Yuliana grit her teeth, sighed, and hung her head. Said nothing, but the acknowledgement was clear.

Hey, you’d take all the free stuff you could get from the markets.

-----

The Triumph District was close to the Blau District, a taxi ride away for Magnus’s concern, but not very distant from where you were. You’d have been comfortable walking there, even if it wouldn’t have given you a lot of time to make Yuliana buy stuff. It was called the Triumph District for once being host to Imperial military parades- and was briefly used for the same by the victorious Archduke Roland II after his war of independence, before being consigned to use as a great marketplace for the people of the capital, and beyond.

The wide streets were filled with vendors, and more permanent commerce was housed behind the stalls and carts in stout buildings behind, all little taller than a house. It wasn’t the Blau or the Silversmith, after all- even children could, and did, come around here, as did some unsavory sorts- the constables were present here, but the place was too dense for them to patrol everywhere. So the black markets could also be found here and there, though only the ones smart enough to stay on the move. A surge of policemen surely indicated one being caught, as pickpockets or thieves were usually chased by private hirelings instead.

Magnus was keeping back and away from you. Purportedly to watch out for trouble, but you could see through him here- he wanted you and Yuliana to try and get along better. Your forced collaboration, in his eyes, possibly cooling the rivalry…

>Not a chance. You didn’t have anything to talk with this cow about besides how much money you needed her to hand over. She probably wouldn’t indulge you in talk if you tried. (Write in any insults you'd like to poke with)
>You were going to cut each other up with knives, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be cordial. Try to make talk that wasn’t insult trading. (Talk About What/Ask About Anything?)
>Other?
Also-
>Declare what you intend to make for the cookery contest. The simpler it is in principle, the easier it’ll be to do, at least. Though, a fully equipped kitchen will be available for use- though esoteric useful ingredients are beyond your knowledge.
>Dressup is Immenent

>>6032157
>Other
Frosty silence.

>Declare what you intend to make for the cookery contest. The simpler it is in principle, the easier it’ll be to do, at least. Though, a fully equipped kitchen will be available for use- though esoteric useful ingredients are beyond your knowledge.

French (or Emrean) toast.

>>6032157
>Not a chance. You didn’t have anything to talk with this cow about besides how much money you needed her to hand over. She probably wouldn’t indulge you in talk if you tried. (Write in any insults you'd like to poke with)
We're competing to get a man, no? In the end, one of us is going to go back home alone. No reason to be friendly.

>Dressup is Immenent
Only because i have no idea of what we should cook. I feel like french toast isn't going to be enough.

>>6032157
>Not a chance. You didn’t have anything to talk with this cow about besides how much money you needed her to hand over. She probably wouldn’t indulge you in talk if you tried. (Write in any insults you'd like to poke with)

>Dressup is Immenent

>>6032157
>Other
Supporting >>6032249's suggestion for holding our tongue.

>Declare what you intend to make for the cookery contest.
Baked pork ribs, seasoned in oregano and pepper. Served with mashed potatoes and a cabbage-heavy salad.

>>6032258
>>6032271
I ought to say, the second part wasn't a choice, it was just informing. The food choice is mandatory. If you don't know exactly what then the principle or general idea is fine. It's going to be next to impossible to write what happens without knowing what the intent is.

If people think the dressup stuff is boring or don't want to do it though we can just skip it. I just thought it'd be fun, but if it sucks, then I'm not going to bother wasting time on something nobody wants to do. No sense in making a paper doll if nobody wants to play with it.

>>6032157
>Other
Frosty silence.

>Declare what you intend to make for the cookery contest
What do we know about our boyfriend's tastes? We might have a chance if we cook what he likes.

>>6032721
Dressup has been fun so far.

>>6032157
>Not a chance. You didn’t have anything to talk with this cow about besides how much money you needed her to hand over. She probably wouldn’t indulge you in talk if you tried. (Write in any insults you'd like to poke with)
Imply that she's so used up that she might have an edge in motorcycle riding because she can't feel anything down there, talk about how bad being a deposed noble must feel (not where Magnus can hear though), not sure what else.
>Declare what you intend to make for the cookery contest. The simpler it is in principle, the easier it’ll be to do, at least. Though, a fully equipped kitchen will be available for use- though esoteric useful ingredients are beyond your knowledge.
I remember Anya spending some time with Richter's dad. I don't know what his tastes are, but she should cook something like that. Well, try to cook something like that.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6032249
>>6032553
>>6032780
The silent treatment.

>>6032258
>>6032271
>>6032823
The same level of friendliness, save with barbs.

1 for the former, 2 for the latter. It's a slight difference in intent but a big one in what's communicated between the two of you after all.

For the food thing, I'll take what was asked after and put it in for further consideration rather than deciding right off. Though that won't be the only thing being done.

Writing.

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…But you wouldn’t play that game. You were competing for his hand, and the rest of him, and there wasn’t going to be any making friends. It’d be pointless. So instead, both of you walked on in cold, frigid quiet, people walking by you pausing in any conversation when they looked at you. The glances you gave one another, the tightness of your lips, must have silenced those nearby too.

You’d felt less tense when you were in hostile urban terrain. At least there, an enemy could be shot and not considered a moment more.

Since you weren’t giving Yuliana the time of day, you put yourself to work forgetting her presence by thinking on what you’d do for this cooking contest. You’d have to put your best foot forward- losing wouldn’t be as bad as being blown away without a fight- what a forfeit would be accepting the presumption of.

What did Magnus like? You had to think on that. You hadn’t talked to each other about food often, but you knew that he was a good cook. He talked offhandedly about how a ration might be made twice as tasty if it were made from its base materials on the spot, but reminisced often about local specialties- you tried to recall what he seemed most fond of.

…There was one thing that stood out. Places where rabbit breeding was tradition. Every conversation about them was made in reference to how they’d be turned into food. You’d put it down to him being hungry, considering he didn’t seem picky with anything else, and most ration meat was either ground or pulverized into a paste.

Yes, you could just go back and ask him, but doing that now implied…something that the bitch next to you could be smug about, and you’d be damned if you’d give that to her so easy.

So Magnus liked rabbit, meat in general, he was a Netillian so he liked it peppery. Meatloaf or corned beef, or the like? Come to think of it, the Von Tracht family was from Netilland, too. The ones you’d met (besides Richter’s mom), Richter, his father Geroldt, and Hell, his uncle, had all liked game. Hell had best liked roast boar, and claimed it being wild made it completely distinct from the ordinary humble hog.

Soon. For now though, you noticed clothing stalls before any food, and you recalled what Magnus had said. You thought you looked great, but he wasn’t much impressed, so you’d have to change things up- get him running hot when he so much as looked at you. What did he like? Well, you being in uniform, but that wouldn’t be on offer here…

>Draw an Outfit on- or pick/modify a premade.
Also, for Cooking Shopping-
>Keep it simple. Even you couldn’t mess up a good cut of meat with taters and cabbage.
>Contending directly on what Magnus liked was hopeless against a childhood friend- you’d try an alternate direction of attack. A more regional and newer experience. Nobody disliked Pofesen.
>Rabbit was game, and any fool could make stew. Magnus was a rustic sort of man- it was a perfect fit.
>Other?

>>6033325
>Outift 2
>Rabbit was game, and any fool could make stew. Magnus was a rustic sort of man- it was a perfect fit.

>>6033325
>Outfit 1
We're going to be going to a knife fight and a chicken game. Probably better to not go so...lightly covered.

Also, I don't know about the food...i feel like Yuliana would know *way* better than us about what was his 'favorite' food. Just doing stew probably wouldn't be enough, would it?

>>6033364
If Anya wins this it's a bonus, I fully expect this to come down to the knives.

>>6033366
Doesn't mean we shouldn't try.

>>6033368
None of the options are an automatic white flag? As its been said Anya isn't really a great cook so in theory it might be better to do something simple well than try to overcompensate somehow.

>>6033325
>A + Jacket on top
>Pofesen + Rabbit Medallions/Chops

>>6033325
>Outfit 1
>Contending directly on what Magnus liked was hopeless against a childhood friend- you’d try an alternate direction of attack. A more regional and newer experience. Nobody disliked Pofesen.

>>6033325
>Outfit 2
He'll see skin whether he wants to or not.
>Other?
The boar, not only is it game, but a roast is hard to fuck up. In theory.

>>6033325
>Outfit B, but tie A's sweater (or a jacket) around the hips and wear it to protect our arms during the bike chicken and knife contests.
>Pofesen + Rabbit Medallions/Chops

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>>6033325
>A virgin killer outfit

>Rabbit was game, and any fool could make stew. Magnus was a rustic sort of man- it was a perfect fit.

>>6033325
>Outfit C
>Keep it simple. Even you couldn’t mess up a good cut of meat with taters and cabbage.
Mash those spuds.

>>6033325
>3
>Contending directly on what Magnus liked was hopeless against a childhood friend- you’d try an alternate direction of attack. A more regional and newer experience. Nobody disliked Pofesen.

>>6033325
>>Rabbit was game, and any fool could make stew. Magnus was a rustic sort of man- it was a perfect fit.

>>6033348
>>6033394
>>6033410
Backless.

>>6033364
>>6033374
>>6033386
Long Sleeves and Short Shorts.

>>6033469
Playing against body type when picking from that series, bold.

>>6033515
>>6033548
Semi-Professional.

Variations are wrapped in for now.

>>6033348
>>6033642
>>6033469
Rabbit Stew

>>6033386
>>6033548
Eggy Toast.

>>6033374
>>6033410
Above with Bunny. Not in a bunny suit.

>>6033394
Break out a fuckin wild pig son.
If you can find one.

>>6033515
Steak Spuds and Sprouts.

The vote'll stay open until tomorrow, taking a day off today.
Can't help but wonder if providing premades discourages anybody trying other stuff

>>6033325
>Option B
>Keep it simple. Even you couldn’t mess up a good cut of meat with taters and cabbage.

>>6033724
>spoiler
Well I can't speak for everyone but in my case I can't even be bothered to dress myself let alone a fictional character so I definitely appreciate premades.

>>6033801
Sounds like you are severely depressed & lacking in motivation. You have to have purpose in life, & work to improve yourself bit by bit. I recommend lots of far-right propaganda, walking/jogging in the early morning, eating breakfast, semen retention, doing pushups whenever you feel like doing something counterproductive or do cave to impulses, & seeking spiritual help through performing the LBRP & other banishing rituals to shake off any negative energy & parasitic entities. Also, try to improve your diet by reducing the amount of aspartame, artificial colors, s.o.y, flaxseed, corn syrup, fast food, weeds, & sugar you take in; focus more on getting protein in general but especially from meat, drinking lots of filtered water, & eating fruit as a snack instead of junkfood. Mew, but look up how to do it properly. Try to get enough sleep. WAGMI

Hopefully you take some of this advice & seek out improvement.

>>6034288
Good advise.

>>6033728
One more for Backless and tato.

Looks like it's no-back and...we'll say the Pofesen with Bunny. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Updating. Probably going to take some time, considering.

Delay did not occur for the reason I thought it would.
Back on track now, update will be tonight. Honestly, the insistence on making this a drawquest has caused more delays than anything else...

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The second clothing stall you hit up was being paced about by an old woman who hobbled about with a cane. A young man snoozed nearby- presumably a grandchild, forced to serve as deterrence against any people looking to pick up free clothes, unused and freshly tailored, from the look of things.

“Agh, it’s one of you biker’s burrs,” the old hag said with a disapproving sniff when you walked under her portion of shaded tables, “Back in my day, even a vain girl knew better than to try for the attention of men who value skin over character. I doubt I have anything for you.”

“Aw, cram it, old bag,” you jeered as you stuck your thumbs in your pockets and looked around at the hanging clothes. “…I ain’t no biker’s burr. My boyfriend’s a knight.”
“If you say so.” The old woman flicked her fingers dismissively at you like shooing a fly. “The sultry imports are elsewhere.”

You clamped down on your tongue and took a breath. “Y’ don’t get it. He doesn’t like this,” you gestured down to your midriff, “But I’m tryin’ to outdo that,” you pointed to Yuliana waiting on the road, glaring after you, surely wondering what your plans were. “Y’ see what I mean?”

The old woman picked up a pair of eyeglasses and squinted to Yuliana. “No, you certainly aren’t much competition.” She took her spectacles off and squinted back at you. “Where are you from? Your accent sounds local, but you look like you’ve been chewed apart in the Cauldron and spat out here.”

The Cauldron was a close guess. “I’m from the Dustlands. Sosaldt.” The Republic of Mittelsosalia these days.

“Hrm. An exile, then.”

“Nah. I was born there.” Many countries had used the wastes as a dump for their undesirables for the last couple of centuries. Whether that would change now wasn’t something you’d bothered to discover.

“Hum. Odd. I pity you, but that you’re still alive shows some favor from above.” Whatever. The Judge Above was a giant asshole when it came right down to it. At least he had an Abyss to dump evildoers into. “Hmmm. Is your man the one with the long black hair?”

“The one with the blue sash,” you said without looking, picking through more shirts.

“That sash…” the hag seemed to reminisce with a sigh. You’d never asked after it, but you’d seen maybe one person besides Magnus with one on. You were about ready to give up and go to another stall, when she spoke up again. “Girl. Hold on a moment, come and see this.”

More out of curiosity than anything else, you stayed.

“Emrean bold-faced brashness has been popular with you young folk,” the crone lamented, “As well as Wasteland devils may care perspective. Competing head on, careless to whatever might oppose it, is the specialty of such fashions…” She rummaged about under a rickety table and took out a flat box.

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“Vitelia. That old land, split apart like a church window with a stone thrown through it. Yet they’ve tried many ways to recapture their old glory. It gives some of them a certain mindset to things.” The shirt she pulled out seemed like a typical sleeveless top- but it near completely lacked a back, like a party dress- like one you’d worn before, actually. “My son brought this from Vitelia when he ventured there some time ago. He thought it would provide inspiration for an old tailor. I prefer to maintain my correct thinking to rolling over to reckless change, but I have no shame in selling it. The front of it would mislead. The back is all out. Like a leopard that leaps at you when you turn around- that was how my son told it. In my eighty years, I’ve come to know many sorts. Some men prefer to pounce when they think themselves not seen, perhaps…”

It was more daring than might be assumed, when you thought about how it went on. There was a tie that would go around the lower back, but besides the collar, nothing higher- there were ties that went around the arms somewhat like an atom suit, but in an unspoken declaration of commitment, this top would make no bones about showing off whatever bra you wore. Or even, should you lose that, showing where there wasn’t one at all…

A glance over other offerings, to other stalls, and you had to weigh up not whether you were daring enough, but if attacking boldly from another direction was really the right tactic. “I’ll take it,” you said eventually.

“Four ironwoods.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, granny,” you turned down four strossmarks as being the ripoff it was- then remembered you weren’t paying with your own money. “Throw in this other stuff and I’ll do four silvers and a scepter.” A half-mark, duller coin.

She raised her eyebrows like you said you were going to take a running leap before immediately eating shit. “Deal. There’s a curtain over there to try it on, so you can be sure, but it should fit a thin girl like you just fine.”

…You wouldn’t go digging in that one.

Into the curtain you went- a tall and scratched up mirror must have been the fanciest thing in this marketplace stall- and got changed.

…

It fit pretty well, but you weren’t quite done with your look. You still had the cropped biker jacket, but had also picked up a long-sleeved ribbed shirt- because you needed a place to stick a derringer and a knife besides your boots. The question seemed to be whether you wanted to cover your back- or cover your butt. The summer weather made leather jackets pretty toasty around the shoulders, after all.

>Stick with the leather jacket, on the shoulders. Tough and cool.
>Go lighter. The long-sleeved shirt tied around the waist.
>It’s summer, and you want Magnus to see you. Nothing covering anything more than now!
>Other?
Also-
>Let your bangs out below the goggles.
>Keep your hair off your forehead.
>Other hair stuff?

>>6036926
>Go lighter. The long-sleeved shirt tied around the waist.

>Let your bangs out below the goggles.

>>6036926
Go lighter. The long-sleeved shirt tied around the waist.

>>6036926
>Keep your hair off your forehead.

>>6036926
>Go lighter. The long-sleeved shirt tied around the waist.
>Let your bangs out below the goggles.

>>6036926
>Stick with the leather jacket, on the shoulders. Tough and cool.
and
>Let your bangs out below the goggles.

>>6036926
>Go lighter. The long-sleeved shirt tied around the waist.
>Let your bangs out below the goggles.

>>6036929
>>6036956
>>6036966
>>6037011
Shirt round the waist.

>>6036989
Leather on the Neck.

>>6036929
>>6036966
>>6036989
>>6037011
Release the bangs.

>>6036957
Show off that forehead.

Updating.
In the main quest, there was a possibility of Anya having a big Yakuza-style full back tattoo that might have been shown here. Such was advised against to her, though.

>>6036926
>It’s summer, and you want Magnus to see you. Nothing covering anything more than now!
>Let your bangs out below the goggles.

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All out on the back, then- was this the right choice? The shirt now tied around your waist covered up your bottom, which you knew for sure people liked, considering how much it got prodded and grabbed over the years. Not that Magnus made any indication of whether he’d be tempted, frustratingly mannered as he was.

Yuliana was made to pay a price that she blinked at herself, but with Magnus watching, she had no choice but to comply with, muttering a curse under her breath. You gave her a sly wink as you handed your jacket to Magnus to hold.

You couldn’t notice if your open back caught his eye or not- but the only regret you had with putting the new shirt around your waist was that the knife and derringer you had to move weren’t as handy to draw out without sleeves to hide them in.

As far as other shopping to be done went, you knew that, much like trying to match her in other aspects, trying to compete directly against Yuliana in cookery would be hopeless. She probably knew something fancy, something perfect- so you’d have to try the imperfect. The common and humble. Something that couldn’t help but be good…even if you’d never actually tried to make it.

Pofesen, Poor Knights, stale bread soaked in a slurry of eggs and milk and fried in butter. Eggs made everything better by your measure. Maybe you’d find a place for rabbit sausage medallions with them. What was better than breakfast after morning?

The stale bread and eggs would be cheap. The rabbit and sugar wouldn’t be. Not your problem, though. This was like picking Yuliana’s pocket with permission. Though the only spices you knew much about were salt and pepper and chilis- maybe you should just get what she got when you reached the food market.

Then you noticed, again, that there were shadows stalking you. People who’d be nondescript if you didn’t keep noticing them, and the covering of their faces inside kerchiefs or low-worn caps. Any doubt was cleared when a man brushed past, and you recognized the black knit long sleeved shirt he wore- one of the Bastards’ Horns from earlier.

You realized with a start, you were somehow suddenly alone. Yuliana and Magnus had been nearby just a moment ago, heading in the same direction to the food market. You’d thought of a good dig against her, and you didn’t want it to slip from your mind. Did she pull him away somewhere? Or…

A woman a bit taller than you walked up from in front, her hands behind her back. Black shiny hair was cut at her chin and tied back at the sides, and tinted glasses only somewhat hid the piercing ice of her stare. Trouble, you could already tell.

“Sergeant Anastasiya Nowicki,” she said, flashing a silver seal from inside a black leather booklet too fast for you to examine in detail, “I am from the Archduchy’s Intelligence Office. Come with me. We need to speak with you about an urgent affair.”

…You were suspicious. Not that you knew much about the Archduchy’s shadowy spy organization, besides that Richter was a part of it in some form, but somehow, you got the feeling that they wouldn’t have sought you out here, as well as alone…and nobody, not even your worthless whore mother, ever called you Anastasiya.

>Intelligence Office your ass. You were alone, but so was she. Kick her ass and make her talk. (Initiate Combat)
>Maybe you were being too paranoid. Go along with her- if things went bad, couldn’t you handle that?
>Try and flee. You’d rather have the backup of a boyfriend than having to deal with any of this by yourself.
>Other?

>>6038470
>Maybe you were being too paranoid. Go along with her- if things went bad, couldn’t you handle that?

>>6038468
>>Intelligence Office your ass. You were alone, but so was she. Kick her ass and make her talk. (Initiate Combat)

>>6038470
>>Intelligence Office your ass. You were alone, but so was she. Kick her ass and make her talk. (Initiate Combat)

>>6038470
>Try and flee. You’d rather have the backup of a boyfriend than having to deal with any of this by yourself.

>>6034288
Sorry, I tried following all of your advice but I think I did something wrong because I ended up being convicted of war crimes at the Hague.

>>6038468
>Pretend we 're already working with IO and our handler is nearby. If this is a fake operative, that'll worry her and she should give herself away

>>6038470
>Intelligence Office your ass. You were alone, but so was she. Kick her ass and make her talk. (Initiate Combat)

>>6038470
>Maybe you were being too paranoid. Go along with her- if things went bad, couldn’t you handle that?

I suspect its the Militarist spooks, if so use them to get Yuliana to back offpermanently.
We must use any power available to us, this bitch threatened to kill us after all.

>>6038470
>Maybe you were being too paranoid. Go along with her- if things went bad, couldn’t you handle that?

We have to reason to dislike the IO right? Technically our boss works for them.
Also get them to dissappear that Netillian slut.

>>6038470
>Intelligence Office your ass. You were alone, but so was she. Kick her ass and make her talk. (Initiate Combat)
No way she's legit

>>6038470
>>Intelligence Office your ass. You were alone, but so was she. Kick her ass and make her talk. (Initiate Combat)

>>6038470
>Intelligence Office your ass. You were alone, but so was she. Kick her ass and make her talk. (Initiate Combat)
catfight catfight

>>6038474
>>6038832
>>6038867
Follow along. What's the worst that could happen?

>>6038475
>>6038520
>>6038813
>>6038920
>>6038927
Go from being a mutilated woman to a woman mutilator.

>>6038530
If you're fighting by yourself, then everybody will think you're single, and that'd be terrible.

>>6038756
Make a bluff- try to put her off balance if she's a phoney.

Updating.

>>6039146
And You.

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…Yeah, bullshit this lady was Intelligence Office. Not Strossvald’s at least. You’d already made up your mind to subdue the woman, maybe make her talk, but you did devote a bit of speculation towards how she might be of help to you…mostly while a delay came out of your mouth and you eyed up her stance. She stood like she was ready for the unexpected, but her hands were hooked firmly in her pockets, unready for a snap reaction.

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” you said lazily, “The people following me around, right? I got a tail for myself already. They’re hanging around.”

An obvious lie, but in the Triumph District’s bustling mazes it would have been impossible to be certain. All you were looking for was just a second, just a moment where her guard would be down, to act. She was a bit taller, but she was a woman, and Keilerkampfen was what you had been taught in order to defend yourself against people twice her size. The technique of placing oneself in the best tactical position to use all their strength against an opponent’s weakest vulnerability- like a man would have to do to fight a blonde-faced bear, trying to be sporting was no option in a real dust-up.

“Really,” the woman said to herself, seeming skeptical, but she glanced away from you, and that was the opportunity you’d have to take. Much longer than a few moments, and it might not be one on one anymore… and with how battered you felt, being outnumbered against men that wasn’t a fight you were confident of taking.

>Draw derringers. Trying to fight with a gun pointed at you was a battle already lost, and if not, her loss. (Requires Quickdraw Rolls)
>Bare Steel. You have a knife, and the one thing you needed over a person taller was reach. (Stab or Cut, and Where?)
>You don’t need any weapons. No need to escalate further. A good boot in the nose would open her up. (Simple and Easy, not Escalatory)
>Try to take her down in one, unarmed. Flying Armbar into Dislocation, Done. (Risky- but Decisive)
>Other? (Anya is extremely experienced in close combat and grappling techniques- but her left arm doesn’t have much strength or toughness in it right now)

>>6039734
>>Try to take her down in one, unarmed. Flying Armbar into Dislocation, Done. (Risky- but Decisive)

>>6039734
>>Other? Rear naked choke with the right arm (albeit this relies on her arm being long enough to reach her own shoulder)

If my vote falls through:
>You don’t need any weapons. No need to escalate further. A good boot in the nose would open her up. (Simple and Easy, not Escalatory)
Das Boot

>>6039734
>>Try to take her down in one, unarmed. Flying Armbar into Dislocation, Done. (Risky- but Decisive)

>>6039734
>You don’t need any weapons. No need to escalate further. A good boot in the nose would open her up. (Simple and Easy, not Escalatory)

>>6039734
>>Draw derringers. Trying to fight with a gun pointed at you was a battle already lost, and if not, her loss. (Requires Quickdraw Rolls)

>>6039734
>Draw derringers. Trying to fight with a gun pointed at you was a battle already lost, and if not, her loss. (Requires Quickdraw Rolls)

>>6039734
>Draw derringers. Trying to fight with a gun pointed at you was a battle already lost, and if not, her loss. (Requires Quickdraw Rolls)

Catch her off guard, i doubt she would expect a gun in her face out of nowhere.

>>6039734
>Try to take her down in one, unarmed. Flying Armbar into Dislocation, Done. (Risky- but Decisive)

>>6039751
>>6039769
>>6040050
Flashy and brutal.

>>6039762
The weak should fear the strong.

>>6039762
>>6039801
Might as well Kick It.

>>6039811
>>6039876
>>6040039
Meet my friend Gun, and his friend Another Gun.

I'll call and update in an hour or so and roll off if I need to.

>>6039734
>>You don’t need any weapons. No need to escalate further. A good boot in the nose would open her up. (Simple and Easy, not Escalatory)

>>6039734
>Try to take her down in one, unarmed. Flying Armbar into Dislocation, Done. (Risky- but Decisive)
This one just sounds funny but in-line with how Anya's been. Boy fever be making girl stupid.

>>6040138
Boot

>>6040154
The daring.

Alright, calling for the flying armbar, I need three rolls of 1d10. One of them gets a +1, DC roll over 4 for all of them. First is for the initial grab, second is for the leg maneuver, third is for the ground pin. A failure on one stage increases the difficulty of the next ones by 1 each.

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>6040160

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>6040160
I'm going to go ahead and hope that critfails don't exist in a system where it's a 10% chance every time

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>6040160

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”C’mere, Creampuff. Let me show you a neat trick. You know how if you put a lot of weight on a stool, it’s easier to knock over? When you’re pushing or pulling, it’s the same thing. If you want to win something fast and hard, nothin’s better than takin’ your opponent off their feet. Give it a try here.”’

…

“Too small to reach? Ain’t no excuse. Birds are tiny but they still fly. Use yer head. Ah, hold on, Pig wants somethin’.”

…

“C’mon, there’s times to be afraid, but this ain’t a scenario you can hold back on. Throw everything y’ got into it. Like your life depends on it, ‘cause in a fight, it sure as hell does.”

…

“Just a couple a’ sprains, Schweinmann. She’s young, she’ll heal up fast. She’s almost got it down…”

-----

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This shady woman was thin, light, like you in a way. That meant that she wouldn’t have the power to keep you from taking her down in one flashy sequence.
That was, if your snatch for her arm wasn’t immediately detected. You stumbled forward, cursing that your left arm had faltered when you needed it not to.

“Tsk,” the woman turned aside from your grasp, reaching into her sleeve casually, but if she thought you were going to stop just because you missed, then the cocky spook clearly didn’t know what you were capable of. The assistance of stepping up on her and pulling on her arm would have been useful for the next step- but she wasn’t so high that what you tried would be impossible, as you sprang upwards and snatched out with your legs- a crazed snap like a bounding mine.

Yet it worked, and you found your legs wrapped in a coil around her shoulder, her arm against your body. You grabbed it and pulled tight as you twisted around, and both of you crashed into the stones, though she would have hit them harder than you.

...Yeah, you thought with a stifled cough, Eat shit. That's what happens when you take on an Iron Hog.

“Hrrff!” Your victim’s vocabulary had remained simple as you straightened your back out and pulled on the arm you had tucked under your own. “What-“

“And,” you said with a puff as you snapped your spine straight and gave a mighty tug, a soft pop and a sharp yelp of pain being the only indications you’d won, “That’s one. Cry uncle and I won’t move on to the other, but if you cry too loud, I’ll try your neck instead. Like doin’ a fuckin’ bunny rabbit.”

“Fuck you, sheepdog bitch” she panted. Real articulate. She was sweating, but wasn't crying for help- like she didn't want the wrong sort of attention. “This isn’t over.”

Yes, it was. She couldn’t do anything with her other arm with your legs tucked under her torso except flail as impotently as the one in your hold might, and you felt free to let that one go to adjust yourself forward. “Think I won’t?” You growled threateningly.

“Not in a marketplace,” she wheezed, “Release me. Your threats are empty. If you’re pursued by police, if you’re caught, then you won’t get to finish your silly lovers’ spat.” Whack. She spat out blood from the cut lip you just gave her with that knuckle sandwich. “Pointless.”

>Offer a deal. She tells you who she is and why she’s here, no bullshit, and you’ll let her loose.
>Negotiate for something else. You won’t turn her over to the IO, with all the fake documents, in exchange for something else… (What?)
>No use trying to be polite. Beat her or choke her until she won’t be chasing you, then get up and make yourself scarce…
>Other?

>>6040587
>Tell her that if we take down one of the Komissariat's agents, it's an autowin for us. SO either she talks, or we take a razor to something she wouldn't wish us to. Demonstrate the razor.

>>6040591
+1

>>6040587
>No use trying to be polite. Beat her or choke her until she won’t be chasing you, then get up and make yourself scarce…

>>6040587
>No use trying to be polite. Beat her or choke her until she won’t be chasing you, then get up and make yourself scarce…

>>6040587
>Offer a deal. She tells you who she is and why she’s here, no bullshit, and you’ll let her loose.
Players have a bad habit of brutalizing women in these side quests.
Let's try to avoid a Vivi situation fellas. The world is worse off without her sloppy toppy, even if the guy enjoying it was a complete asshole.
Besides, I DO wanna figure out what the hell this was all about.

>>6040587
>Negotiate for something else. You won’t turn her over to the IO, with all the fake documents, in exchange for something else… (What?)

Information that we can use against Yuliana, also to leave our man alone in case they were planning anything.

>>6040587
>>Offer a deal. She tells you who she is and why she’s here, no bullshit, and you’ll let her loose.
I feel like we can work the razor into this deal.

>>6040587
>Offer a deal. She tells you who she is and why she’s here, no bullshit, and you’ll let her loose.

>>6040587
>Offer a deal. She tells you who she is and why she’s here, no bullshit, and you’ll let her loose.

>>6040591
>>6040631
The razor is not so lucky for others.

>>6040673
>>6040682
You don't have anger issues. They're an issue for other people, not you.

>>6040695
>>6040832
>>6040874
>>6040880
It's time to make a deal. Talk, or be unable to.

>>6040803
Obtain gossip, cut out competition from yet more women you might not know of.

Updating.

>>6040695
>Let's try to avoid a Vivi situation fellas
Somehow I think you're the only person who didn't want to shoot her dead.

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While you had won this handily, and with only a sore spot on your back in exchange, you definitely couldn’t follow up on it long term. There wasn’t anybody to help drag away a prisoner, and help would be on the way for this woman soon enough. So you had to get what you wanted fast- and then get away.

Some coercion would help negotiations, you thought as you slipped a hand into your waistband, and beyond, to find your Lucky Razor tucked into your underclothing.
It was honestly an ironic name. If you actually needed it, then you hadn’t been lucky at all, but it was even sharper than the knife you had on you, and didn’t need much effort to make a mess. There was a precision to it you wanted to exploit.

“Is now the time for that?” the dark-haired woman asked with a sneer, sweat beading on her head. Trying to put on a strong face.

“Shaddup,” you said as you pulled the razor out and unfolded it. “Listen. We both know that you’re not the IO. If I took you or a piece a’ you to ‘em, though, I know they like surprise presents. No matter what, I win. Just a matter of how much you lose.” You gave the razor a light tough to her cheek, and a line of blood ran down near instantly. The drop shed was licked off your razor- the familiar taste of iron spread over your tongue. “What piece of you d’you should I take as a trophy, huh? Do I do that, or do y’ tell me what I want to hear?” You pushed the razor down again. “Answer now.”

“What do you want,” the woman said a bit too fast, though her voice kept cool. Not trying to deny her position anymore at least.

“Tell me who you are,” you said, “Why you’re here. Just that, and I’ll let you go. I’ll only be this nice once.”

A second of contemplation. “You seem to already have a good guess at who I’m with. Who I am isn’t of any value to you.” A few passersby had noticed what was going on and were watching warily. Better everything kept quiet.

“You’re right. Your name is Pepper Cunt for all I care. Talk. You here to kill me? Or Edelschwert? The other bitch?”

“No.” Pepper Cunt said flatly, “We were offered an opportunity to return to our home country. A safe place to be, sheltered from the spite of the new authorities, perhaps until they collapse like they’ve done before.”

Time to interject before the manifesto. “Spare me the political opinions. I don’t give a shit. Who gave you that offer?”

“I don’t know who offered it. Our leader was very confident of it working out. We would be able to return home, or at least, close enough to it. All we had to do was one thing.”

Was this a lie? Mathilda had implied vengeance might be more the motivation, but her warning could have been based off of assumptions. The most dangerous possibility being the most reasonable to prepare for in the absence of information. “What’s that one thing then?”

“Take you or Edelschwert out of the picture.”

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You balled a fist. “Try to kill him or me, then? I ought t’ shoot you and any of your goons who show up.”

“No.” Pepper Cunt said hastily, “Not kill. Take you aside. Occupy you or hold you, for a few days at most. Death or mutilation was off the table.” A pause. “I do not know why that was what they wanted, and we did it so that they would give us a place in our homeland once more. I only had my commands, and my homesickness. Now. Release me. Or wait for the rest of the team to come and catch you while you waste your time with me.”

You thought about it, reached for a derringer and glanced around. Then you got up, untwisted the Kommissariat woman’s limbs from you and folded your razor. “Get the fuck out of here,” you snarled as she struggled to her feet, and you gave her a swift kick in the ass to speed her on her way. “I see you or any other creeps with you ever again, I’ll shoot you dead!” You shouted after her, and with another glance about, you stepped off for a more populated part of the market.

She’d said either you or Magnus, which meant he could be in danger. That drove you to a more energetic pace, while you thought over why and what these Kommissariat expatriates could be doing. Distracted by why they’d want to go home to a place that no longer wanted them anyways. Lark hadn’t wanted you, and you would be fine never returning to that shit hole in your life, so long as Alina moved somewhere else. Maybe this was something your sister would understand, where you thought it was an unfitting reward for something as risky as crossing you.

Your boyfriend was not a hard man to find, at least. Tall, pretty, and moreover, right next to the sort of silvery blonde that wasn’t common in this country.

That bitch thought that, just because you weren’t around, she could hang off of your man’s arm.

“Oi!” You barked at them, and Yuliana snapped her head round, looking back with a mixture of shock and disgust like you’d interrupted something a lot more intimate. Deluded- Magnus seemed relieved, and like he wasn’t much into being held onto anyways. “There you are,” you said as you moved close again. “You run into any trouble while I was gone?”

“No,” Magnus said, seeming surprised, then suspicious. “…Did you encounter those people who were trailing us before? If they’re making any moves…”

Yuliana glared coldly, but raised an eyebrow. Anticipating something from you.

>Let it drop there. It didn’t matter. They weren’t a problem any more. Let Magnus have his peace of mind- and keep him from trying to put off resolving the issue of his hand.
>Tell Magnus about your encounter- and what you’d learned from the Kommissariat woman you’d subdued. You were both their targets, after all.
>Don’t tell Magnus about this- but ask that you go off without him, alongside Yuliana again. There were things you needed to talk about with her, and not him… (What about?)
>Other?

>>6041145
>Tell Magnus about your encounter- and what you’d learned from the Kommissariat woman you’d subdued. You were both their targets, after all.

>>6041145
>Tell Magnus about your encounter- and what you’d learned from the Kommissariat woman you’d subdued. You were both their targets, after all.

>>6041145
>>Tell Magnus about your encounter- and what you’d learned from the Kommissariat woman you’d subdued. You were both their targets, after all.

>>6041145
>Tell Magnus about your encounter- and what you’d learned from the Kommissariat woman you’d subdued. You were both their targets, after all.

>>6041145
>>Tell Magnus about your encounter- and what you’d learned from the Kommissariat woman you’d subdued. You were both their targets, after all.

>>6041145
>Tell Magnus about your encounter- and what you’d learned from the Kommissariat woman you’d subdued. You were both their targets, after all.

>>6041145
>Tell Magnus about your encounter- and what you’d learned from the Kommissariat woman you’d subdued. You were both their targets, after all.

>>6041158
>>6041205
>>6041214
>>6041242
>>6041253
>>6041267
>>6041596
Share the latest news. Especially the part where you won.
Though why did this happen? Really I expected some speculation on that.
Updating.

>>6041622
Why they're after Anya, or why they got seperated?

>>6041626
>Why they're after Anya, or why they got seperated?
Sure.

>>6041676
Yuliana hates Anya enough to team up with the Komissariat, obviously/s

>>6041676
Yuliana hates Anya enough to team up with the Komissariat, obviously/real

You’d held off on telling Magnus about the Kommissariat tails before, but now that they’d actually approached, attempted something, there wasn’t any reason to be cagey. Especially since you’d taken care of it, and any attempts to come. Only an idiot would try and keep it up while you were this on guard.

So you told Magnus what had happened, about the woman, how you’d dealt with her, and what she told you. He avoided interjecting until the very end of it.

“Hell. I thought I had spent quite enough time addressing these problems, only for them to come back the moment my attention is elsewhere. I should not have come here yet.”

“Don’t say that.” You said flatly, “It’s all worked out.”

“I should leave right away,” Magnus continued, “I can understand why they’d target me. But the only reason they would pursue you is to get to me.”

“Oi, I’ve done my fair share of makin’ trouble for the Military Council,” you objected curtly, “They’ve got plenty of reasons to come after me.”

“Yet only once I’ve come here?” Magnus challenged.

You had no answer for that. Just a plea. “At least stay ‘til tomorrow. Things will be fine as long as we stay outta the ground they’re confident in.”

Magnus pursed his lips, pinched his brow, contemplated, then sighed. “Fine. We can resolve your duel, but me lingering here helps nobody.” Having decided to relent, you let your own held breath out, and his hand went away from the bridge of his nose. “The woman did not tell you anything else about her mission? Her leader?”

“She said she didn’t know. Chances are she doesn’t know how high up this goes either.” You shrugged. “Didn’t want to risk too much time, or else I might’a been grabbed anyways. What d’ you think about the other part? Only keeping either of us a couple days? What’s the point of that?”

“Deception?” Magnus suggested and when you shook your head, changed course. “Holding for somebody else? Or bait for myself in your case. They could have had every impression that their part would be minimal and their action extremely limited, if somebody else planned for more. Perhaps they hoped that the leverage would be sufficient to demand something instantaneous.”

“If they wanted t’ bait you, tho’,” You thought aloud and squinted at Yuliana, and then pointed, “Why not go after her?”

“I have not made myself vulnerable,” Yuliana said, with a touch of offense, “And if I were taken against my will, there would be international incident. I am of important birth, and the Archduchy of all places values such. You, on the other hand, have nothing like that to dissuade any but the most reckless.”

Maybe, you thought, the real reason was that she was in league with these goons. Yet you had no proof of that besides a common goal of taking you down…or did you? It had to be thought on.