“I’ll be the first to admit I’m no expert, but isn’t it usually considered... I dunno, unethical to date one of your officers?”


    I flash Sofie a grin over the rim of my glass.


    “Sure, but if you date two at once, it cancels out. Simple mathematics.”


    “This is a date?” Niko says, in mock surprise. “I thought we were having another emergency War Council session.”


    “Yeah, I was wondering where Grant had gotten to,” Sofie remarks sardonically. “This explains so much.”


    “Quit it, both of you. You’re gonna make me regret doing this in the first place.”


    Despite my reprimand, I’m grinning. These two are easy to be around, in a way few others I’ve met here at the Citadel are. Our general compatibility makes me wonder again if their placement in my unit was the deliberate choice of the same hidden benefactor who made sure I’d be protected from the assassination attempts that typically befall Nobles of my line by assigning Sander to me. But bringing that up would probably kill the mood, so I cast the thought aside.


    “Well, there are probably better things we could be doing with our time,” Niko comments idly, stretching his arms over his head in a way that makes his black shirt tighten and accentuate the contours of his well-sculpted body. “War Games aren’t far off.”


    “We could all use a break after that training session yesterday, though.”


    Especially since we’ve got one planned for the whole day tomorrow, Sofie adds.


    Nodding in response, I continue aloud as though she hadn’t said anything. We need to avoid mentioning anything about tomorrow’s secret training session, or that the one we had yesterday was a sham, in case any spies from the enemy unit are listening in on us- and they’d be foolish not to be.


    “I should probably check in with Grant and see if he’s got a sense of how mad people are at me after that,” I note. “But enough about business, we’re supposed to be relaxing. How were your classes this morning?”


    “About the usual,” Niko shrugs, churning the contents of his glass with a straw. We’re eating in a retro diner, the kind of place that specializes in burgers, milkshakes, and not a ton else. Sadly, thanks to my recent last-minute health kick, I’m forcing myself to abstain from the typical indulgences of a place like this, eating only a single burger with lettuce and tomato, rather than the double-layered monstrosity laden with cheese, bacon, mayo, and all other manner of toppings, that I usually get. I’ve forgone the milkshake entirely, opting instead for an artificially sweetened soda, which simply doesn’t taste as good as the real thing.


    “Yeah? What class do you even have today? I can’t remember.”


    “Ooh, bad first date etiquette,” Sofie says with an exaggerated wince. “Admitting you forgot something he already told you? That’s basically admitting you don’t listen to him at all.”


    “That’s because I don’t listen to him,” I inform her with a smirk. “All I care about is his body.”


    “Well, it is a nice body,” she replies, scratching her chin contemplatively.


    “Are you two planning on letting me talk any time soon?” Niko asks.


    “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” I tell him, with a disinterested wave of my hand, as I sink into the plush red leather of the booth and pick up my glass of bland diet soda.


    “I’ve got Fireteam Combat Tactics on Fourthdays. It’s taught by Professor Kore, the Crane Unit’s advisor. She’s quite clever, I think you’d like her.”


    The Crane Unit’s advisor- could that be the professor I saw having a private dinner with the Heir at the Stygian, on the night I took the whole Gazelle Unit out for a meal? I suppose anybody who’s got the Heir’s ear would have to be at least somewhat intelligent.


    “Now who’s making first-date mistakes?” I ask with a laugh. “Talking about other women? Pretty sure that’s supposed to be verboten.”


    “She’s got you there, Nicky. Anything to say for yourself?”


    “I regret nothing,” he maintains, straightfaced.


    “Hmm, firm in his convictions. What do you say, Izzy? Is he forgiven?”


    While Sofie is busy cracking up at her own unintentional pseudo-rhyme of ‘Izzy’ and ‘is he,’ I make a show of considering the question.


    “For now,” I conclude eventually. “But you’re on thin ice.”


    While this may be our first date in the strictest of senses, I don’t really consider it to be a hugely momentous event or anything. We’ve been in an ambiguous state of entanglement for a little while now, this is just making things official. Polyamory really does make this sort of thing much easier than it would otherwise be- we’d surely have been caught in some terrible love triangle, where two of us competed uselessly for the affections of the third.


    (I would have won, of course.)


    “Sure, sure,” Niko responds, smirking. “Anyway, I answered your question. Your turn.”


    “Oh, I just had Logistics. Boring as ever. Spent the whole class thinking about the two of you, ‘course.”


    Sophie chuckles at my obvious flattery.


    “What about you, Sof?”


    “Combat 101,” she says with a frown. “Not my fave. Almstedt doesn’t seem to like me.”


    “Huh, that’s funny,” I reply, smirking. “He likes me just fine.”


    “I wonder why? It can’t possibly be your personality...”


    As Sofie pretends to mull that conundrum over, I roll my eyes and scarf down the last morsel of my burger. Washing it down with a slurp of my soda, I tap my stomach, feeling taut muscle- but not as taut as it should be. Overindulging with meals like this is probably to blame for that. Food in the Imperium isn’t heavily processed for the most part, but it’s still best not to eat burgers or drink sodas more than once or twice a week, tops.


    Some people choose to succumb to vice completely, even to the detriment of their bodies, because all the damage they do is by definition impermanent. However, one can’t simply dispose of a body and receive a new one on a whim- the waste of biomass means you incur a fee for any ‘nonessential’ resurrections. I prefer to hang onto a body for as long as possible, and so far I’ve done just fine in that respect. Only two resurrections in my entire life so far, and both occurred here at the Citadel.


    That number isn’t going to stay so low forever, though.


    “Well, what do you two think? Should we head out?”


    My dates share a glance. Finding no objections between either of them, Niko nods, while Sofie balls up her napkin and dumps it on her plate. Having paid in advance, we can leave whenever we want. Apparently, before the brainband, there was some arcane process involving multiple trips to your table by the wait staff to confirm your payment before you could go- despite having the technology at the time to streamline the process. Yet another example of the inefficiency of the pre-Imperial system. Hell, even in the Warlord era, most places had some kind of centralized government that was capable of imposing rules onto society when the markets alone would have created suboptimal outcomes. There were a few pseudo-democracies in that era, though most of them were conquered or wiped out by warlords before the Imperium was founded. The few that survived were quickly incorporated during the War of Conquest, typically putting up less of a fight than the warlord-led systems.


    The three of us head out onto the streets of the Citadel, taking in the cool afternoon air. Naturally, my plans for our time together extend further than just a single meal, so Niko and Sofie follow my lead as I head towards our next stop.


    Humming idly to herself, my spymaster slips her hand into mine, shooting me a wink when I turn to her with a questioning glance. I’ve got nothing against physical displays of affection, but they don’t exactly come naturally to me- despite having grown up in a household where they were quite common. The influence of my Founder, I suspect. According to most accounts, Thorn was a fairly extroverted individual, but not one prone to excess touching.


    I don’t intend to fall into the trap of letting my long-dead Founder’s behavior dictate how I live my life. Hewing too closely to the lifestyle of one’s Founder is considered somewhat improper among Nobles, and not in the way where you’d be a countercultural rebel if you did it regardless. So I wrap my tail around Niko’s waist to draw him closer to us. A trio all walking hand in hand would look ridiculous, but luckily I’ve got an additional appendage I can use to express my affection instead.


    Raising an amused eyebrow, my warmaster allows the flexible strand of flesh to encircle him, the tip hidden behind his back, where I use it to gently trace patterns into him, never pressing hard enough to pierce the fabric of his shirt, much less his skin. He shivers slightly at its touch, but doesn’t say a word in complaint. A body that’s been under the needle as much as his probably barely registers such a light touch as pain.


    The three of us don’t attract much attention on our walk. It’s hardly uncommon for young Nobles in the prime of their lives to have flings with one-another while they’re at the Citadel. In fact, the only person who really looks twice at us is a Peregrine who I vaguely recognize, mainly because of her distinctive appearance, as her skin is painted in various bright pastel colors, complimented by her attire. She’s got a falconer’s glove on one arm, which suggests that the bird circling overhead belongs to her, and the way she gazes at us indicates that she’s pointedly saving the memory to show to somebody later.


    It’s been less than a day, so we can’t really tell yet whether last night’s ruse has done the trick or not. Hopefully the sight of us three having such a casual stroll, when by all rights we should be scrambling to get our unit into fighting shape, will help sell the notion that we’re not a real threat. Not that such a thing particularly factored into my decision to ask Niko and Sofie out, but it’s a nice added benefit.


    After several minutes of walking in companionable silence, we arrive at my chosen destination- one of the Citadel’s many outdoor covered markets, where the family members of the Citadel staff hawk various wares to Nobles in order to supplement their income. Many families have multiple members with different staff jobs, and those that don’t typically tend to have off-world positions that allow them to work remotely, but the few who would otherwise have nothing to do all day have stalls in places like this.


    The theme of this particular market is clothing. It stretches all the way down the avenue, with displays presenting everything from saris to sundresses. One stall even seems to be purveying more practical items, like fingerless gloves, cargo pants, and body armor, which I can tell has immediately caught Niko’s eye.


    “I’m sorry, are we going shopping?” Sofie asks me, incredulous. Despite myself, I frown slightly. My expectation had been that she’d be the most enthusiastic about this venture.


    “That was my plan, yeah. Isn’t that something people do on dates?”


    “It’s something people do, yeah. Not something I thought you’d want to do.”


    Niko laughs.


    “What exactly were you expecting?”


    “I dunno, that she’d take us to the range or something.”


    With a wave of my hand, I dismiss that notion.


    “Too much like training. Plus it’s a pretty solitary activity- we’d be in our own lanes, earplugs in. This seemed like something we could actually do together, rather than just being in the same room at the same time, doing our own thing individually.”


    Before I can think better of it, I drop my voice to tell them something else, embarrassed.


    “I don’t really have much experience with this sort of thing, either. Or... any experience. So I picked something cliched.”Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    “Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m fully into it,” Sofie tells me, giving my hand a quick squeeze of encouragement. “Just surprised.”


    “Okay,” I reply, trying to recover some of my confidence after that admission. “Let’s get started.”


    We wade into the market together, breaking from our formation to navigate the narrow corridors between stalls, made narrower by the presence of other customers idling in place and examining the wares. It’s not long before a dress patterned to look like stained glass shining in the sunlight catches Sofie’s eye, and she pulls Niko and I close to fawn over it.


    “Isn’t this gorgeous? Oh, I would look so good in this.”


    “Looks... fragile,” says Niko critically. Sofie scoffs in response.


    “No duh, it’s meant to look like it’s made of glass.”


    “I meant the material. Suppose it’s got to be thin for it to look like glass, but it would probably tear like tissue paper if I tugged on it too hard.”


    While they bicker, I turn the dress around and examine it. The design is certainly meant to be revealing, backless and loose like it would hang off of the body, rather than cling to it. Not something I could see myself wearing, but I’m not the one contemplating buying it.


    “I think it would look great on you,” I tell Sofie, who gestures to me while looking at Niko, as if to say ‘see, I told you.’ She takes it off the rack and brings it to the cashier, though she holds it gingerly, as though afraid a strong breeze might tear it to shreds. There’s no cash transaction necessary, almost all payment is handed through the brainband, but she does need to get a bag for it before we can move on.


    “Admit it,” Niko prods me, grinning. “You just want to see her wearing it because it’s half transparent.”


    “What, and you don’t?” I fire back, flicking one of his black metal horns playfully.


    “...touché.”


    So happy with her purchase is Sofie that when she returns, she plants a kiss on my cheek- then blows one to Niko with a wink. He rolls his eyes, but I see the ghost of a smile on his lips. His generally reserved affect makes those subtle signs of his affection all the more valuable.


    Further down the avenue, we pass a mannequin dressed in a sky-captain’s powder-blue uniform, complete with a red scarf and brass goggles. It’s the sort of thing you’d find on the pilot of an airship on a helium-rich world like Argestes, where airships are a common sight in the skies. Stories of airship piracy and the intrepid crews that fend them off are typically exaggerated in mems and books, but such events do occasionally occur in reality as well. I devoured those stories when I was younger, uncaring of whether they were true or false, and gazed up at the empty skies of Demeter-VII, hoping in vain to one day see an airship sailing overhead.


    Now, though, I simply admire the uniform for a few moments, ignoring Sofie’s quizzical glance, and then move on. Much as it might have impressed my younger self to see me wearing that, it would be a waste of money. I would look pretty ridiculous dressing like a sky-captain in everyday life, to say nothing of formal events. At best I’d use it once or twice a year for a costume party.


    While I was examining that, Niko set his sights on another outfit, this time something I don’t recognize. It’s an orangeish-brown leather jacket, covered in patches, pins, and a few empty ammunition loops, over a maroon turtleneck. Distinctive, sure, but not exactly what I’d call iconic. Niko, however, seems quite impressed.


    “I can’t believe they’ve got one of these here,” he says almost reverently, before looking over his shoulder at the two of us. “Do you seriously not know what this is?”


    Sofie and I both shake our heads.


    “It’s an Arawan Ranger uniform. They were a sort of irregular peacekeeping force from the Annwyn system in the early days of the Imperium, when the power structures of the old warlords were still largely in place. The Rangers didn’t just keep the peace, they dispensed justice to everybody, regardless of their status, and brought low the warlords’ allies who still had the populations of those worlds under their heel. All of them wore a jacket like this, so they could be easily identified by anybody who needed their help.”


    As he’s speaking, Niko is examining the jacket closely, poring over every patch with the same intensity he uses while doing maintenance on a rifle.


    “You know this is almost certainly a replica, right?” I ask him.


    “Yeah, I know. But still...” He trails off, then picks back up where he left off before. “Their founder was asked to become a Founder, and he declined, said he wasn’t interested. Shame, honestly. Would have made a good one. Better than some of the ones we got.”


    He doesn’t have to name any names for me to know who he’s talking about. A few come to mind immediately, including some among my Gazelles. But what’s done is done, and I’m not going to judge anyone for refusing to have their personal pattern passed down through endless generations of Nobles. If someone asked that of me, I’m not sure I’d say yes either.


    While Niko is heading off to buy his special jacket, Sofie and I share an amused look.


    “Kinda cute when he’s nerding out like that, isn’t he?”


    “Oh yeah,” she agrees. “Downright adorable.”


    When he returns, Niko’s wearing the jacket, sleeves rolled up past his forearms, looking satisfied. The tattoos on his arms are still fully visible, including one large, distinctive pattern featuring a roiling thunderstorm with a lightning strike in the center that’s taken the shape of a wolf’s howling maw- a clear reference to his Founder’s title. He jerks his head to the side in the universal gesture for ‘let’s get going,’ and we do.


    Nothing much catches any of our eyes for a stretch, so we continue down the avenue together, until I spot something worth stopping for. Not an article of clothing, but an individual. He’s immediately recognizable, despite his back being turned, thanks to his shock of orange hair, brighter than naturally possible. It’s Tellis. The Ox Unit’s strategist is perusing the wares of a stall that proclaims itself to be ‘The final stop for any Noble looking to dress the part!’


    “You two go on ahead,” I tell my companies quietly, gesturing to Tellis. “I’m gonna go say hi.”


    Sofie furrows her eyebrows for a moment, and I try to hide my smile upon noticing that confusion, like almost everything else, is a good look on her. Conversely, Niko just shrugs and turns to head towards the stall selling tactical gear, like a fly drawn to honey.


    Approaching the unaware Noble, I raise my voice slightly so as not to startle him by getting too close before he notices me.


    “Tellis, hey!”


    He turns, looking surprised, but quickly recovers and waves to me with a smile, flashing his perfect teeth. Not that anybody in the Imperium chooses to have anything less than perfect teeth, but somehow his are more perfect, in a way I can’t quite put my finger on.


    “Izanami. What a pleasant surprise. I hadn’t expected to see you here.”


    “Why does everybody keep acting surprised that I’m here?” I ask sarcastically. “I’ve gotta dress myself too, you know.”


    Strictly speaking, I wouldn’t have to come here if all I cared about was dressing myself, I could just have clothing fabricated for me from the comfort of my own apartment. But the way people have been reacting, one would think that they assumed I never bothered making any updates to my wardrobe.


    “Yes, of course. My apologies,” he replies gracefully, bowing his head for a moment. If he’s concerned at all about being approached by me, this close to the first round of War Games, he doesn’t show it. He’s got to be aware of the scheme to deny my unit access to the Crucible, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he approves. It seems like the kind of plan that would offend his sensibilities.


    “Don’t worry about it,” I laugh. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to see you here either. Figured you’d prefer to shop somewhere a little more upscale.”


    This little market is hardly the only place to buy clothing in the Citadel, and many of the other establishments are marketed more directly to people like Tellis, who prize pedigree above all else.


    “This location came highly recommended,” he replies, gesturing to the stall around us, which is replete with fancy suits and gowns. “Besides, what those other stores charge is practically highway robbery, and I should know.”


    It takes a moment for me to get the joke- a reference to his Founder, the Corsair Captain. Still, considering he comes from a wealthy family, I’m surprised Tellis would have any issue paying high prices. It makes me suspect that he’s got an ulterior motive for being here. It’s unlikely to be related to my presence, as he seemingly had no idea I was even here, and would be about the last person I’d choose to send on an intelligence-gathering mission anyway.


    “Yeah, I bet. Plus the atmosphere here is nicer. Places like that can be kinda... sterile.”


    That’s supposition on my part, I’ve never actually been inside of a place like that. The stipend my family receives from the Imperium isn’t large enough to justify spending my share on overpriced formalwear, and I’m not about to dip into the unit’s funds for that either. Really, I’m just trying to make conversation while I attempt to suss out what Ayedar’s real reason for being here is.


    “Indeed, indeed,” he says, glancing to the side so quickly I barely notice it. “Has anything caught your eye yet? The array of options is almost dizzying, but this is simply calling to me.”


    Tellis gestures to a red longcoat with a golden fringe, and silver pauldrons on the shoulders. It looks a little overwrought to me, but definitely the kind of thing I could picture him wearing.


    “Not yet,” I inform him honestly. “Came here with two of my officers, though, and they’ve both found things they liked.”


    “Ah, I hadn’t realized you were accompanied. Apologies if I’m distracting from your excursion.”


    “Nah, no sweat. You here with anybody?”


    Immediately, Tellis flushes, and turns away slightly as if to hide it.


    “Not as such, no. An... acquaintance of mine indicated she frequented this market in the afternoons, and I’d hoped to see her, but as of now she’s yet to make an appearance.”


    Finding excuses to ‘run into’ someone he’s interested in, then. Strange that he should be so confident in most things, but incapable of directly expressing interest in a woman he wants to be with. I guess maybe in his mind, there’s some kind of courtship ritual he’s got to go through, before he can ask her out or whatever. Thankfully, I don’t subscribe to outdated ideas like that, and neither does Niko, nor Sofie. Though she’d probably like it if I got her a bouquet of flowers or something, come to think of it.


    “Gotcha. Well, I wouldn’t want to get in your way, so I’m gonna head off. Good luck with her, and the War Games.”


    “Likewise,” he says, looking grateful. His surprise and discomfort upon seeing me makes more sense now- if the object of his desire had appeared only to see him chatting up some other girl, it would have made his attempts to woo her much more difficult.


    When I return to Niko, he’s comparing two utility belts, both of which look pretty much identical to me, while Sofie watches, looking bored. My reappearance changes her expression to one of relief, and she steps away from Niko to greet me.


    “How’d it go? You get anything useful outta him?”


    “Think so,” I reply with a wink. Specifically, with the eye that’s concealing a recording lens, the same one I used during dinner with my fellow unit commanders two days ago. Before approaching Tellis, I activated it surreptitiously, and made sure to keep focused on his face while he was speaking. Hopefully our conversation was long enough for it to have collected enough data to generate a model of him that we can use to sow dissent within the Ox Unit’s ranks, as I planned to do with Amalia and Tai. We’ve still got a few days to go before the War Games, and for maximum effect, we’ll have to ‘leak’ the falsified recording to the intended recipients right before the battle, so they don’t have time to examine it in depth and discover that it’s fraudulent.


    “Good. It better have been worth abandoning me here for. Because this place is a nightmare. Look around- everything they’re selling is black. Every single thing. And the pouches... so many pouches...”


    Sofie shudders theatrically, and I grin, putting an arm around her shoulder and guiding her away from the stall, leaving Niko to continue examining the various tactical offerings on display.


    “There, is that any better?”


    “Now that you’re with me, yeah,” Sofie replies, and guides my head down for a kiss. She’s a good few inches short than me, probably to make herself seem nonthreatening to people, which I find rather endearing. Not that I’ve got anything against taller girls, of course, being one myself- but people who choose to be short are somewhat rare, and having to lean down to give her a proper kiss is a nice feeling.


    While her lips are still locked with mine, I slip my tail up the back of her shirt, and ghost the flat of its barb across her stomach, making her shiver. Sofie pulls away slowly, almost reluctantly, and I withdraw my tail, aware that we’ve drawn a few glances from the market’s other patrons, but uncaring.


    “You’re too good at that, farmgirl.”


    “What can I say? Some people just have natural talent.”


    Rolling her eyes, Sofie brushes a strand of metallic hair out of her face and hoists the bag with her dress in it over her shoulder.


    “Come on, Nicky’s gonna be in there for hours. Let’s find you something nice to wear.”


    Already having flashbacks to my time with Grant, trying to pick out what to wear for my meeting with the other commanders, I follow Sofie deeper into the market. She steps between two stalls, into an alleyway I hadn’t even noticed was there, but which seems to have a few hidden establishments of its own.


    “There’s gotta be some good stuff in here,” she says, pointing to a stall with a sign above it that simply reads ‘Chroma.’ The interior is obscured by a curtain, which she parts before stepping through. I enter a moment later, after sending Niko a quick brainband message letting him know where we are, in case he finishes up sooner than expected and wonders where we’ve disappeared to.


    As the name implies, Chroma seems to mainly traffic in extremely colorful clothing. Not exactly my usual style, but I try to keep an open mind as I look around. While Sofie gravitates towards the most vibrant offerings, my attention is drawn to a simple shirt in an eye-catching color. It’s a dark, almost otherworldly shade of green, calling to mind some sort of alien shore.


    “That one?” Sofie asks, from over my shoulder.


    “Yeah. You not like it?”


    “No, no, it’s just… it seems very you.”


    “I’m gonna choose to take that as a compliment,” I laugh.


    “Good, I meant it as one. That color’s all dark and mysterious, just like you.”


    Rolling my eyes, I pull the shirt off the rack and bring it over to the cashier to get it bagged, transferring payment as I do so.


    “Interesting choice,” says the woman behind the counter. She’s older, streaks of gray in her hair, with lines on her face that tell me she’s held onto that body for quite some time. That stands to reason, if she’s been working for the Citadel a while- there’s very little here that could kill you, unless you’re deliberately putting yourself in harm’s way.


    “Yeah? How’s that?”


    “The color, chthonic green. It only occurs naturally on one planet in the entire Imperium- Ormenos. Fascinating place. Almost ninety-five percent ocean. Completely dark year-round, thanks to the cloud coverage, so it’s more or less uninhabitable for humans. Plenty of sea life, though. That’s where the color comes from, the oceans. Nobody’s certain exactly why. But within those waters dwell leviathans.”


    She falls silent, giving me a meaningful look. I stick the shirt into the bag she’s offered, and smirk.


    “You have anecdotes like that ready to go for everybody who walks in here, or am I special?”


    The woman smiles knowingly at me, and I roll my eyes, turning back to my companion.


    “Come on, Sof. Let’s get out of here.”