It seemed a lot of effort for such a pointless voyage. But Veta would do as she was commanded by her emperor.
Besides, there were far worse missions she could be on.
This was easy.
Veta worked hard to get in a position like this, where these easy missions were more common than war and death. She patted the side of her head, her braids tight and out of her face.
Then why did you prepare your hair for combat?Veta asked herself.
She couldn’t help smiling a bit. Once a soldier, always a soldier. And whether this mission was peaceful or not, Veta would always prepare to fight.
Especially when big alien men were a part of it. And the Rhimodians were undoubtedly big, alien men.
Over seven feet, they towered over even the tallest Terrans. And they were hard as hell to kill. Frankly, Veta would much rather take out a squad of Terrans than fight Rhimodians, but she was here.
She would do the job.
She put her hand on the weapon the Emperor had given her. The blade was sharp—she’d tested it on some training equipment. It should do the job well.
Hopefully, she didn’t need it.
Caoimhe’s expression remained somber and straight ahead; however, her eyes cut to Veta. “Do I amuse you, Veta?”
“This whole mission amuses me,” she replied, releasing the blade. She was growing quite fond of the weapon she’d been given. Too large to be a knife, but too small to be considered a sword, it fit in the middle, skirting both sides of the lines.
Like she did, most of the time.
“Why? Do you not want peace?” Caoimhe asked.
“Perhaps she thinks her job will be in jeopardy if peace is reached,” Diado added as he fluffed and adjusted Caoimhe’s dress.
“I don’t worry about that,” Veta replied, glaring at him. “I wonder if you do?”
Diado paused, his hand to his chest, looking affronted, and stalked away.
Veta smiled again.
“That wasn’t nice,” came Eleanor, Caoimhe’s little sister. She wore an equally fancy, heavily embroidered dress, only just a touch less important looking than Caoimhe’s.
The spare child would not have the finest things as the royal heir would.
Naturally.
But together, the two, in their elaborate headdresses and makeup, were a formidable picture. Eventually, Veta would put on her own similar cut robe as the princess’s dress but more subtle. All members of the imperial escort had matching robes to make them all look uniformed and submissive.
One of the Emperor’s little quirks.
It always amused her, because as Veta glanced around at the women in the room, not one of them was submissive in any way. Well, maybe Caoimhe’s little sister, but only because she was the youngest and most naïve. But outside of that, every woman in the Imperial Escort could, and would drop anyone who dared attack the princesses.
Even the princesses were trained in defense, basic hand-to-hand, and simple weapons usage. It was a time of war, after all. The imperial princesses needed to be equipped for whatever the future held.
“I don’t need to be nice to Diado,” Veta replied.
Eleanor smiled. “Would you want to dress us?”
“If I dressed you, you’d be wearing military bodysuits, like me,” she said, running her hand down her hip, the suit leaving nothing to hide. Easy to move in and practical with plenty of pockets and clips to store whatever she needed. Currently, all she had was a couple ration bars and a handful of water caplets, but she always carried those.
And she wasn’t taking it off under her robe, either.
