Chương 278: Day Two Hundred And Seventy-Six

Dear Diary, Note to self: I have a bad habit of equating 'asshole' with 'stupid', especially when the asshole is in charge of shit, and I need to, y'know, stop doing that before it bites me in the ass unpleasantly. Lord Lenny Lancaster is an asshole of the first water.

He could become the greatest butt-stuff porn star (catcher division) if he found a portion of M-Space where personalities manifested themselves, all he'd have to do is let normal people go there and do what comes naturally, because he's even more punchable than his son Larry.

He approaches the Platonic Ideal of Asshole, and before you tell me 'oh, Plato didn't think about things like ideal assholes', hello, Ancient Greek Academic, if those dudes were any more into assholes the culture wouldn't have lasted into a second generation. Denis Leary put Lenny Lancaster's biography in a song. The man is also perniciously, habitually, and clearly intentionally in positions of authority.

He is also, despite my subconscious prejudices, my favorite ways of taunting him, and his son's gradual eclipse of him, probably the second smartest person I'm personally acquainted with. Also, no, there will be no deeper 'acquainting', even if he comes to me with a strap on the size of a station wagon and begs me to end him by rupturing him like a water balloon filled by a hyperactive eight year old. I'm into nerds, and he's that weirdest of things, a smart person without any real nerd in him.

If Michael J Fox is the Anti-Elvis, Lord Leonard Lancaster is the Anti-Nerd. So yesterday I got really stoked when Marshall duBois put Lenny on the spot, because I intuited that he'd wind up hitting him with the same fuckin' questions he'd hit me with.

After a few moments spent clearly adjusting his mental landscape to include 'Absolutely That Bitch Tabitha Fucking Diaz just wrecked my shit in a debate on military matters', which is probably exactly how he thought about it, what with him agreeing with duBois about my S-Class Talent for wrecking shit, Lenny cleared his throat, turned to face the class, and started talking about the recent war against New Amsterdam and Newark.

It's really impressive that a fart can keep a class of Cadets enthralled for damn near half an hour. Okay, it was also pretty interesting hearing his opinion about shit. Like, I definitely hate the man more than anyone I haven't murdered to death, and surprisingly more than plenty of people I have induced to do their part keeping the psychopomp unemployment rate down, but when it comes to plans? It's like Batman made a baby with Satsuki Kiryuin. The moment he realized I could Translocate strategically?

He immediately came up with and implemented a plan to use himself as bait to put Saffron in danger to get me to powerfuck the 'Damn Army. Kinda galling that's exactly what happened, but maybe definitely proof he's the second smartest person I know personally. By the time he finished, I think I might have gotten a little personal lubrication at the idea of duBois putting him on the spot.

"In your opinion, what was your biggest mistake of the campaign?" Without pause, Lenny snapped back with, "embarrassing to admit though this is, a mistake that has become habitual and ubiquitous among field commanders. Which, since we, the Heroes of Phileo City, are meant to be a cut above, and I am near-universally acknowledged as our greatest field commander, is no excuse for me making that mistake. I slept in my Command Tent." DuBois blinked.

"Sleeping in your command tent was your biggest mistake." Lancaster nodded.

"And what would be the takeaway you'd share with the class regarding that?" Lancaster chuckled, proving even an exterior rectal sphincter can simulate charm in its human form.

"While the baseline ought be obvious, even to you, William, for forms' sake, the core takeaway is do not unintentionally mark yourself out as Commander of a force, and in fact do so only when doing so will grant some benefit to the mission. I suppose a secondary takeaway might be utilizing common markers of Command like Command tents as traps for enemy raids and assassins, but that might be," the hole of all asses turned to look at me, "what is that phrase I heard you use during training?

'Putting a hat on a hat'? So pithy." DuBois snorted, as did my Kitten.

"So, just to be clear, your biggest mistake was sleeping in your Command tent."

"Yes."

"Not using yourself as bait." Lancaster managed to look surprised, annoyed, and even disappointed with duBois all at once.

"Whyever would I consider that a mistake?" The Marshall rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I dunno, Leonard, maybe the whole part where it got both of us killed?" Credit where it's due, Lancaster can clench himself hard enough to create gravitational eddies not unlike those found at the center of a spiral galaxy.

"Your point?" Then he chuckled at duBois, interrupting his reply by saying, "I'm surprised at you William. Even a little disappointed, really. Here I implicitly recognize and acknowledge the wisdom of your favorite tidbit of military wisdom, and you miss it entirely. But to make it clear, since this is an academic setting and some things should as such be made explicit, 'if it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid'. And the results of the Battles of the Walls speak for themselves, do they not?

A three to thirty three thousand casualty rating is a record I doubt I will best, though I do have high hopes of and look forward to seeing it bested in my lifetime." DuBois just kinda sat there gobsmacked while the class chuckled, eventually starting to laugh himself. I figured I had to step up and save the old man's dignity, so I raised my hand, and when Lancaster called on me, asked, "I gotta ask, who doesn't consider you our best field commander?

You said that like you knew someone whose opinion matters to you."

"Of course I did. Because the person whose opinion I value most highly on the matter disagrees."

"Okay," I replied, "who specifically?" This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

"Why, myself, of course." Fell back on duBois training. Never stop moving. Also, my mouth had kinda gone on automatic when my train of thought derailed.

"Who's our best field commander then?" The asshole clenched itself at me in a parody of a triumphant grin, his expression screaming, 'game, set, checkmate'. Yeah, I don't play backgammon or whatever.

"The only one I've willingly subordinated myself to in my lifetime, the Imperator of the Inter-City Alliance." Yeah. To sum up and remind myself, 'Asshole. Not stupid.' I don't remember any of the rest of the class. I think Potami actually gave an entire campaign synopsis, and I didn't even notice that titanium deli slicer of a voice talking for like half an hour straight. My brain wouldn't even conjure up fucked up images of her and Velazquez doing the nasty. Tabitha. exe crashed, hard, and refused to reboot.

When Marie and Menace showed up with dinner, I kinda ate on automatic, yeeting half of my food at Isnomi, playing catch with her. When I sat there doing my best internal Jack Sparrow thinking, 'but where has the food gone?', I stood up, pulled Saffron up under my arm, scooped up Isnomi, and fell sideways into Marie, letting her catch me in our bedroom. I set the rug rat on the floor and gave her a little shove on the butt toward her room, saying, "go get ready for bed like a Big Girl, Menace."

When she toddled off, I turned to Marie and quietly said, "could you please close the door and put her to bed?" When she turned to do so, I grabbed at her, laying a hand on her forearm and adding, "you're welcome to come back in as soon as she's asleep if you like, but right now I need Saffron to ride my face like a bicycle seat until one of us passes out. Hopefully me, because my brain is still stuck on Lenny kowtowing to her verbally. I mean, he's right, but him saying it? Does not compute."

Marie just smiled, nodded, and walked into the other room, closing the door behind her as she went. Meanwhile Saffron lay her fingers on the side of my face and, gently stroking my scars, said, "My Goddess, might I suggest instead I practice for when I must model for the inevitable mounted statue of me?"

"Howzat better?" I asked, collapsing onto the bed and flopping onto my back. She smiled at me, Glowing Midnight replacing her uniform in an eyeblink.

"Not only do I get to wear this, which I know you love? Thigh pressure and bouncing."

"Yep. Lancaster's right." She giggled at me.

"Oh, my. Those words? Coming out of your mouth? You do need a, what did you call it? A factory reset." Then Glowing Midnight threw my vision into wireframe. Slept really fuckin' well. Mimic dreamt of seeing Mom's face in the gaps between the stars, a kind of negative space constellation. She also tried to ignore the crop dusting coming from the south to no avail. I woke up to Saffron using me as an air mattress while still wrapped in Glowing Midnight.

I watched her until I got to see the Saffron Boot Up Sequence, which finished with her, eyes still closed, licking my neck clean. Both sides and the middle, everyplace she could reach without me moving. When I could talk without giggling from the tongue tickles, I said, "Good Morning Kitten. You gotta leave early?"

"No."

"Then why this?" I nodded at Glowing Midnight.

"For you." I've never actually had a raging lady-boner overwhelmed by warm fuzzies before. Oddly enough? Me likey.

"My Wife is Best Wife."

"No You." I had no choice at that point but pulling her down into a kiss that lasted until our Menace pushed us apart, saying, "Beffas! Beffas!" If her growth spurt is anything like her eating, she's gonna wind up carrying Lachlan around like one of those purse dogs. Oh, God, now I've got the entirely unwanted image of adult her carrying Lachlan around in her purse like and as a vibrator. Brain bleach, please. You made me think that with my own brain. No brain bleach for you. Thanks. Boss. You're. The best. I know.

When we got up to the Practice Yard, I was definitely in a mood to work out some aggression. DuBois called me over, then called the rest of the class over as well.

"Cadet Diaz, Cadet Aetos, could you please bring High Priestess Darling up here?"

"High Priestess who now?" He smiled, shook his head, and said, "Sister Siobhan." High Priestess Sister Siobhan Darling. Because of course she is. Fates, if you keep throwing these little dying dream hints at me, I'm gonna come give you impromptu clit piercings. Just sayin, cut that shit out. A few moments later I had Sister Siobhan standing next to Marshall duBois.

Okay, behind him, her back nearly against the wall, with Saffron standing next to her in Glowing Midnight in her persona as High Priestess Aetos at duBois' request. He faced the rest of us and said, "you ready, Diaz?" I rolled my shoulders, limbering up a little, and laughed as I said, "you want to go again, old man?" He took a deep breath, shaking his head and picking up a big fuckin' sack he'd had sitting next to him. It clinked.

He tossed it in the general direction of the rest of the class, and some really recognizable dull gray short swords scattered out at the feet of the Cadets.

"Not nearly enough Scotch left in my personal stash for that today, Diaz. The Rules of Engagement are simple; no deliberate kill shots, no hitting someone when they're down," he paused thoughtful, then continued before I could say anything, "unless they're still attacking, which means they're still fair game. No attacking anyone within weapon reach of the High Priestesses. If you go to them or are taken to them for Healing, you're out, sit down in an orderly line beside them.

If you take someone else to them for healing, you can return to the fight after you're at least three long paces away from them or anyone else is who is out. Remain within the Practice Yard. Any questions regarding the Rules of Engagement?" One of the other Cadets called out, "Full contact?"

"No deliberate kill shots, but yes. Hence the on-site Revive specialists. Any other questions?" As the rest of the class shook their heads and got to arming themselves with those fucking Cold Iron short swords, I raised my hand, "uh, what are the teams?"

"Do you get the RoE, Diaz?" I shrugged.

"Sure. Teams?" He shot me a lopsided grin.

"You need something challenging to keep improving." Without turning he raised his voice, "and this lot has gotten cocky enough to start making jokes about you using my face for a saddle when they think I can't hear." Then in one smooth motion he raised his hand, took one long backward step toward Saffron and Siobhan, shouting, "BEGIN!" as he did. So fucking embarrassing. I'd have won, if not for that bitch Smith getting a last second rush of brains to the head and cheating.

When it got down to just me and her, right after she delivered my second-to-last opponent to Siobhan, I decided to end it quick and Translocated all of me into one behind her, Mana Blades coming in underhanded toward her glutes. She spun, lunged, and took a pair of goddamned Mana Blade hits straight to her crotch in order to jam the point of one short sword painfully into my gut. While our Jackets will stop a Cold Iron short sword lunge? They're flexible enough for that shit to still hurt.

She used the hilt of the other like brass knuckles, breaking my nose. Then her weight slammed into me, knocking me backward a step or two, screaming, "HEAL HER!" the moment my ass bumped into Saffron. I'd say it even spoiled Saffron choosing to deliver her Heal Injuries to everyplace every one of me had been dinged by chastely kissing them and making them better right there in front of God and everybody, but I'm trying to be all Mature and not lie about shit like that. Embarrassing?

Not as much as getting outsmarted by Smith, but yeah. Awesome? Absolutely even more yeah. Look how Adulty I'm getting! Hooked on Therapy worked for me! And we're all very proud of you for your progress, daughter.