Dear Diary,

I don't know how many of me I can keep going at once, I don't know how many of me I'll need to beat whatever the assorted Jotnar jackasses in Norfolk try to stop me from getting my ship on, and I'm really not sanguine about the prospect of actively trying to violate some Jotnar with scores of Mana Blades while doing lazy warm fuzzy things with my family, or even moreso doing delicate hot equally fuzzy things with two particular members of that family.

Which means, me being me, until the ball drops on Jotnar-flaying day, I'm not gonna spend a single waking second when I'm not both snuggled with one or more of my family in one or more locations, not to mention seeing if I can convince Marie and Saffron to indulge in passive-me antics with two of me while one of me does the same with one of each of them. Because I will absolutely work my goddamned ass off like only a hyper focused bitch can do in order to keep my family safe, even moreso when whatever I'm doing has a side order of making the world a better place. But when I have the opportunity, I'm going to play just as hard.

Wait, wait, wait, Saffron?

Yes, Tabitha?

Can you ask Marie to set up a picnic for the four of us out on the back lawn?

That's a lovely idea. Certainly, dear. I'll let you know when it's scheduled to start.

I didn't say all that hard play would be hardcore play. I mean, yeah, me, so some of it sure as shit will, but not all of it.

So yesterday after Imperator Kitten Sexypaws gave me my Mauling Orders, she and I hopped up to the building with the rock in it. "Hey, Kitten?"

Saffron, collapsing back to just one of herself in the room, smiled indulgently while holding up a hand to pause Ophelia's latest verbal diarrhea, and said, "yes, love?"

"What do you guys call this place? Oh, and are you gonna keep meeting here? 'Cause eventually you're probably gonna want shit like offices for Attachés and Adjutants and Assorted Assholes, too."

She nodded to me and said, "the Alliance Army refers to it as the 'Command Center', although on official correspondence with non-Allied Cities we've taken to referring to it as the 'Grand Council Chambers'. I've already begun plans to expand the building to allow not only for those offices you referred to, but also for more Grand Councilpersons to meet, not to mention having enough seats to allow each Grand Councilperson to have staff with them in the room."

At that point Ophelia screeched out, "I did not vote in favor of such an expenditure! When did the Council approve this?"

I opened my mouth to tear her unwanted ass a new hole, but froze when Saffron lay a hand on my forearm. She swiveled her gaze to land on the latest head of the House of Orange, who had the situational awareness to shut her fuckin' mouth. "In order to avoid wasting this Council's valuable time on discussions so abstract they could never possibly come to any meaningful conclusion, I have been spending my own free time working on architectural drawings. When I have completed them to my satisfaction, and only then, it is my intent to bring them before the Council, at which time we can discuss changes, whether minor, major, or wholesale recreation of the plans. I trust that meets with your approval. Grand Councilwoman Orange?"

Ophelia's mouth worked a moment. Her voice waspy as fuck, she snapped out, "how can we be sure these plans of yours won't result in a structure doomed to collapse the moment it's completed?"

Saffron bowed her head infinitesimally, but more to the side than to Ophelia bloody Orange. "That is a legitimate concern, and of course I would be perfectly happy should any or all of the persons on this Council at that time to employ architects and experts in construction to review the plans. In fact, I myself will insist on having them reviewed at the Army's expense as well. Thank you, Councilwoman Orange."

That seemed to take most of the wind out of Ophelia's sails, but I couldn't help but mutter, "bark. Bark bark, growl."

Lancaster turned to me, raised an eyebrow, and said, "did you say something, Champion?"

I shrugged. "Eh, just wondering if you guys have a moment to give me my list of targets down in Norfolk."

Lancaster winced, but when Ophelia, George, and Momma Driver turned to look at him, said, "a purely military matter the Imperator bid me assist in. Norfolk has positioned themselves to severely hamper our ability to deal with the situation in Calverton, but Champion Diaz volunteered to deal with the situation in a manner unlikely to provoke a war, while still allowing our Expedition to Calverton City the best possible chances of success."

Momma Driver weren't nobody's fool; she frowned and said, "before you go any further, what exactly have you told Tabitha to do?"

I held up a hand to forestall Big Poppa Lancaster and said, "this shit wouldn't go down anywhere in the Alliance, because we're all civilized and shit, but apparently if you say the right words and, I dunno, fill out the right paperwork and shit? In Norfolk it's legal to kill rich people and take their shit."

As Ophelia blanched, then went positively pale as George and Momma driver both head tilted, then glanced speculatively at her, Lancaster shook his head. For what it's worth, he looked totally fine with that interpretation of Norfolk Law. I'm guessing anybody who had the personal power to object to being killed and having their shit taken would have a different opinion on the matter than Temu.com Princess Peach. "Champion Diaz is part Vanir. This provides the slimmest of legal arguments for her to challenge a Norfolk Jarl to trial by combat to determine which of them is rightful owner of an item of property."

Momma Driver looked over at me. Somehow she managed to hit me with serious doubtful side-eye even while looking straight at me. "Surely they'll object to that?"

In my best J.K. Simmons voice, which wasn't really all that good, but fuck it, none of them had ever seen Spider Man, I said, "that's the great part! If they object? I demand Trial By Combat to determine if my bullshit is, in fact, legal bullshit or not."

George shook his head, and on his face I saw the face of every person I'd ever seen back in Camden who had a morally fine, but legally shaky plan to somehow make the city just a little less shitty for the people living there. "I dunno. Won't they just get pissed and send troops... after..." He wound down as with every word, my grin stretched a little wider. By the time he said 'troops', I'd gone full on Loki Bullshit Activate and felt the corners of my lips touching my earlobes. He barked out a half hysterical laugh, then said, "holy fuck. Holy fuck, is this what it's like to have you on our side?" Before I could say anything, hell before I could even nod, he frowned and shook his head. "No. I can't. I can't agree with you doing what you did to our Levies to all those poor bastards down in Norfolk."

"The term is Thralls, Councilman."

I nodded to Lenny. "Thanks, General Lancaster." Then I turned back to George. "Hey, I've grown as a person since then, George. I dunno if I've ever said this in front of you, but I still kinda regret what I did to the Levies at the Walls. I mean, everybody with more brains than me tells me I had to, or they'd have dropped into full on rape and pillage mode, but I still feel guilty about it. Thing is? Down there, with just me and maybe, maybe one or two other people who can fuck the fuck off and not be in danger in range of Norfolk's 'Thralls'? At that point, assuming you guys approve, or I leave before you can tell me no, or I just decide fuck it I'll do my time afterward while basking in the adoring gaze of every conscription aged poor person in the Alliance? If they send in the Thralls to, y'know, 'arrest' me or some shit? I'm just gonna start killing Jarls until they come to their senses."

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

He blinked at that, and I Co-Located to a half dozen places around the room, all of them out of reach of the guards at the front doors, then Translocated those six of me around the room in an endless merry-go-round of me, which by the way is not only my new band name, but definitely gonna wind up being the next over the top naked antic I pull on Saffron. "Yeah, ain't no way any number of Thralls is gonna be able to catch me, so the Jarl options will be, 'die fighting' for a value of fighting that equates to getting fuckin' executed, 'run away', for a period of time measured in single digit heartbeats until I catch them and kill them, or maybe just neutralize the fuck out of their self-mobility if they lose bowel or bladder control and I think it's funnier to let them lie in it, and, 'surrender and / or loudly agree that my considered legal opinion is correct'."

He still looked kinda iffy, so I collapsed back to one of me, at least here in this building, and said, "look, George, there's two important things for you to realize here. First, from a legal standpoint, you guys are clear on this. It's a really blatant covert military op that the Imperator ordered me to do after I bribed her to order me to do it. Okay?"

He looked a little head-tilty wrapping his brain around 'blatant covert military op', but nodded and said, "yeah. And?"

"From everything I've heard and read so far, the Jarls? Are rich violent bastards who all agree that Trial by Combat is Best Trial. They're like him," I nodded to Lancaster, "without the brains or class, or her," a nod to Ophelia, "without her scintillating personality. You gonna tell me you'd get big mad about somebody like that dying from terminal stupid?"

He looked at Lancaster, who stood doing his best stoic, which was pretty fuckin' good, then at Ophelia, who apparently seemed to take my sarcastic comment as an actual compliment, shook his head the tiniest bit, then said, "but..."

I stepped over to him, lay a hand on his bicep, and in my best 'big step-sister who's trying to help you, and might just get stuck in the dryer if you take your head out of your ass long enough' voice, said, "look, George, you're a good man. I get it. I respect it, even, trying to do the right thing even to rich entitled assholes who, if they didn't enslave you or kill you out of hand, would have fun seeing how long they could torture you before you died. You're a better man than them. Probably a better man than me." I looked down, shoved my tits out with my biceps, then looked back up at him with a teasing grin, all of that hammed up to eleven so his brain would think I was joking even if his dick didn't agree. "Okay, not hard to be a better man than me really, but still, tell you what. I promise you, cross my heart, pinkie promise, that before I kill any given Jarl or Duelist to death, I will give them the option to surrender peacefully, and if I can I'll do my best to neutralize them non-lethally. Non-cripplingly if I can manage it, which I'm pretty sure I can do with most Thralls." I paused for a five count, then asked, "you good with that?"

He shot me a wry smile and said, "were you gonna do all that anyway?"

I leaned in and stage whispered, "I'll Mana-Blade catheter any historian who tries to say I was, since I've obviously been swayed by your pure heart and clearly morally superior position."

Tabitha dear?

Yeah, Imperator Sexypaws?

I'm fairly certain Councilman Papadopoulos has just become incapable of responding to the offer made by the way you said that last word. If you're going to Just Happen to him, please spirit him away first, so the rest of us can get some work done.

Pfft. George? Nah, he... I froze, my eyes still pointed in George's direction. Well. Fuck. Apparently along with the nerd fetish you dumped on me I've got a thing for people with actual, y'know, morals and values and shit.

You say that like you regret it for some reason?

Do you know how much harder it is to figure all that shit out? Fifteen years of 'nice hair: check, big dick: check, spread legs', and now I've got to, like, actually listen to what they're saying? Fuck.

Laughing inside my head, the Imperator turned to Councilman Papadopoulos. "So, Councilman, do you wish to make this a Council issue, or shall it remain a military operation for the time being?"

Looking way more sheepish than he ought, George shook his head. "No, no, I'm good with things to remain as they are for now. I, ah, formally request an after action report be delivered to the Grand Council after any covert operations in the future though."

"Completely fair, and likely wise." She turned to Lenny. "General Lancaster? Would you be so kind as to review the scouts' report with Tabitha outside, so we may continue?"

"Certainly, Imperator."

We walked outside, he turned to me and handed me a piece of paper. "Six ships. Each a Battleship owned by one of the major Jarls of Norfolk. That would be six of the eight Battleships in their present Order of Battle."

As I scanned the list of names, I asked, "you think I should just get one, or try for more?"

He shrugged. "If you take one, it will be a nominal defense for our transports. If you take two, it will take at least three Jarls to contest passage, since we will be two coordinated ships facing three independent ones."

"They don't work well together, huh? Oh, or the King coming after us. Like, 'oh, I'm not the King, I'm just Biggest Jarl doing a little raiding with my two biggest warships'"

He looked at the sky for a moment, his lips moving. "Just when I find myself accepting that you are nothing but an attack dog, thankfully under the nominal control of our Imperator, you say something insightful."

"Meh. Don't get your panties in a bunch. Probably just random mouth noises that sound like something smart."

"My panties are far too well tailored to bunch up in combat, let alone speaking with you, Champion Diaz."

I froze, then turned to look him in the eye. His poker face told me nothing, and I choked out, "shit, was... Was that a joke? Are you okay? Do you need to go lie down?"

Without twitching he replied, "you will never know any of those things."

I just let myself laugh at that. "Okay, okay, I'm not such an arrogant bitch that I can't give you the double-u on that. You think I should just take all six?"

He rolled his eyes. "It would give us a three to one numeric advantage. But at that point you might as well just take all eight and be done with it. Have you chosen your first target?"

Something about the way he said that made me realize he knew which one I'd picked and why the moment I saw it. "Yep. Odin's Pride. Totally gonna take that bitch and rename her toot sweet."

"You realize I am, in fact, still a High Priest of Odin?"

I waved a dismissive hand at him. "Eh, don't worry about it. If one-eye gets cranky, just tell him something like," I puffed out my cheeks and did my best diamond crushing anus impression, "the ship was unworthy of being named in your honor, Sire." Then I smiled up at him and said, "I'll be sure to have the Imperator keep you in the loop." Before he could reply, I stepped back to Isnomi's bedroom. "Hey, Kitten?"

She slid her Spell Coding windows out of the way and said, "yes, Goof?"

"Have you got that list of assignments from Law and Custom?" She turned, pulled it out of her desk drawer, and handed it to me. I took a look and said, "you mind helping me write a couple letters tomorrow?"

"Tabitha Diaz! Are you suggesting I do your assignment for you? The very thought, that I would perform such an act of Academic dishonesty!" I stood there, jaw hanging open for a minute, until the Grin snuck onto her face. "Without offering me bribes sufficient to make Aphrodite and Fafnir alike to faint from blushing."

"Oh!" I paused a sec. "I'll get you a Battleship!"

She rolled her eyes. "You were going to do that anyway."

"I'll get you six Battleships!"

She Grinned up at me. "Like you won't keep one for yourself to ride into battle like some kind of crazed warrior queen."

"Yeah, prolly. Ooh! Seven Battleships, a Jotnar femur, and a City?"

Her Grin melted into something a little less hungry, a little more fond. "You'd give me your Jotnar femur?"

I shrugged. "Most of the big bastards have two, right?"

Her face fell, disappointment clear. "Battleships. Cities. Excess femurs. You realize who you're speaking to, correct?"

"Uh, Kitten Imperator Saffron Sexypaws Aetos-Diaz?"

I saw me using her hyphenated name work that warm fuzzy magic in her, but the Grin would not be denied. "I'm sorry, who are you talking to again?"

Hey, if I know what game I'm playing, I'm gonna play the fuck out of it. "Oh! Right! Imperator Kitten Saffie-kin Sexypaws Nakedcooch Aetos-Diaz, I am your faithful Attack Dog! Woof woof!"

I watched the Grin twist momentarily until she realized that I had, in fact, banished everything but her shirt, which hung open with its ties braided and dangling out of reach behind her ass. She looked up at me, the Grin barely keeping itself together through the laughter that leaked through it. "What's. My. Name?"

Which is totally how I wound up handing in six different variations on the assignment to 'write a Diplomatic Letter to a member of the Ruling Faction of a City other than your City of Origin' at the end of Law and Custom today.