4th post
The Mythosaur's Den, Market District,
Midtown, Kestri (Early-877 ABY)
'Lord Barran, you flatter me.'
Innocuous though the moment seemed to both Braxton and Erskine alike, the Galaxy's many opposing elements would learn to reference this moment (and in well-studied historical context with it) in either awe-struck bedazzlement or abject horror, especially in the ease with which the former accepted the offer of the latter, an a simple swipe of the hand was all that it took to set the Galaxy on a supremely-militant collision-course with the forces of Dark and Light alike. A mutually-driven stroke of genius, no matter what way the Galaxy tried to spin it in the years following their first face-to-face encounter.
A simple swipe of the authentication bar was all that was needed, just a simple scan of Holst's ID chip to set the Empire and Hex Inc. on a collision course with the Dark Side, already expected to impact so heavily that the unprepared ones among their enemies would suffer greatly. Such masterstrokes in diplomacy always came at a hefty price, but the Imperial Treasury would remain untouched by their deal, and even though it was all coming out of the old Woad's pocket and bank-balance, there was no doubt the perks of being Lord-Regent were proving fruitful already. Stepping into proverbial shoes Lord Erskine hadn't worn for years, as all the expenses in his life as an Imperial had been covered by higher-ups until that point, proving that the number-crunching years at the helm of the Noble Exiles PC would bring Barran's shrewder formative years into the future with him.
'I actually know about the Noble Exiles. Very old name in the business. When I first started up my company, I hoped I would be able to hire your services. Sadly the money wasn't there yet. Though I knew I recognized you from somewhere.'
Though the past was still very much capable of keeping up with the man, formative years or otherwise.
Very few from among the Noble Exiles PMC had survived long enough to receive retirement pay, and even then, those who had were of lesser quality in aptitude and valour than those who perished in the Third Imperial Civil War, the bones that formed the baseline foundations of what would become Blue-Heart Brigade. And in the years following his established affiliation with the New Imperial Order, not even Bruenn McHugh could survive it, though Shug was no doubt among the best the Woads had to offer in those years; Commoner-Captain McHugh was the only real friend Lord Erskine had through all those years of toil and bitterness in exile, and still, the old stalwart was KIA within the first year of their involvement in the civil war. Not much remained from his old life, and yet even fewer faces, including his firstborn son, lost to an orbital bombardment in the Second Battle of Ziost and changing Lord Erskine's life forever.
However, bitter though these memories were to recall, old Barran was grateful for the recognition, taking it lightly to heart for the sake of his fallen comrades and firstborn son alike, as the soldiering-caste of Galidraan (and in particular, the Woad-Macushla) had achieved much and more to be remembered with the reverence and respect they were due. And in Mr. Holst's recognition of the very PMC that paved the way for the legendary Imperial climb to prominence, the old Woad couldn't help but find appreciation in the new perspective, gladdened that Braxton had been knowledgeable enough just to comment on the nearly-forgotten collective Lord Erskine still grieved almost fifteen years after the fact. The recognition in the corporatist's eyes had been enough on it's own, but in revealing his previous designs on the Noble Exiles, and in the admitted fruitlessness that kept it all from happening back then, the former-Stormchaser knew that Holst was telling the truth.
'We'll do great things together, Lord Barran. Your people will be able to breathe, and your troops will likely not mind if a few mercenaries take the hits for them. Same goes for the Enclave, in all honesty.'
'Thanks for that, Mr. Holst. And agreed, on all counts. I'm also sure the Enclave will learn to value the Hellions in the wars of the future, an' before ya know it.', Lord Erskine started, briefly pausing in his amble to drink some more of the heavy-hitting Tihaar, and in letting the taste linger, thinking on the early signs of battlefield cohesion between their contingents revealed already and realising that these armies had proven compatible as early on as their first fight together. A matter in particular that had the old Woad remembering the point he was previously trying to make, though first Lord Erskine would weigh his words before continuing,
'The Empire's battle-array evolves quite quickly, never looking exactly the same from year to year.... So as long as your men are evolving with their allies, you may yet survive the next iteration of the Scar Hounds; who, by the way, are evolving much quicker than all our other adversaries in the field - past and present at that.', letting his point sit for a moment as he moved on to enjoy the delights of the cigar this time.
'Good job we've got folks like the Hellions holding their ground with us, that sort of indomitable could bring much-needed weight to our efforts.... Especially with the way the war's going, we'll be needing that kind of strength if we wish to survive the worst of it.'
Kranak Vizsla
Jos Krayt
Eliz Krayt
Vulcan Krayt
