Colonel Leo pulled Kian aside to where no one could hear them.
"Small arms going missing — nobody upstairs will notice or care. But heavy equipnt is a different matter entirely. Armoured vehicles, artillery pieces — each one is logged and inventoried. If an inspector cos through and finds heavy assets unaccounted for, that becos a very serious problem.
The only clean way to make heavy equipnt disappear is to report it as combat loss. Unless there's a war on, my lord, the heavy kit absolutely cannot leave this compound."
Kian accepted this without argunt. He'd never seriously expected to walk off with the regintal artillery anyway.
Leo, reading his expression accurately, lowered his voice further.
"Don't be discouraged, my lord. You're aware of the food situation in the Hive. It won't be long before we're in open conflict with the rebel forces. And when that happens, the accounting becos considerably more flexible — in a major engagent, armoured vehicles and artillery pieces do get destroyed."
Kian leaned in imdiately.
"What do you know? Is there intelligence circulating?"
Leo nodded carefully.
"The regintal commanders were called to a military briefing recently. High command is ordering a general discipline review across all units. In my experience, that kind of order only cos imdiately before a large-scale military operation.
My assessnt — the Spire destroyed the starch facility during the unrest, the Hive is running out of food, and the planetary leadership has to act. And consider this, my lord: we have over five hundred regints garrisoned in this Hive. If the high command cannot feed five hundred regints of soldiers, those soldiers will start the next riot themselves. The planetary governnt would not survive it."
Kian turned this over. "So the informal ceasefire between the PDF and the rebel forces is ending."
Leo nodded grimly.
"We have no food. They have food. We either negotiate or we take it. I expect the high command will attempt talks first — if the rebel leadership agrees to supply the Hive, the peace holds. If they refuse, it's war."
Kian's private assessnt was that it would almost certainly co to war. The rebels' entire strategic objective was the removal of the planetary governnt. A starving Hive was the best opportunity they'd had. They weren't going to feed the people trying to suppress them.
The fighting itself didn't worry Kian. What worried him was PDF artillery falling on Marshal Dillar's territory.
Dillar was a revenue stream. Stable grain supply into the Hive, currency arbitrage running in the background, more paper notes accumulating for conversion. Their comrcial relationship was productive and growing. Kian had no intention of allowing it to be bombed into rubble.
He spent several days with his battalion, getting a sense of the unit.
Egghead, Ash, and the others were slotted into the officer vacancies without difficulty — the previous commander had taken his staff when he transferred, which left the positions open for Kian's people to step directly into.
What he found when he started talking to the rank and file was dispiriting but unsurprising.
Drinking. Cards. Collecting pay and waiting for the duty day to end. A thoroughly unmotivated collection of individuals who had found a comfortable arrangent and were determined to preserve it.
Looking at Rudolphson's soldiers from the outside had been funny. Looking at his own battalion from the inside was not.
Kian shook his head, issued an order about weapons maintenance, and left it at that. There was only so much that could be addressed imdiately.
He made his way back up to the Spire and returned to the Baron's estate. He needed a solution to the problem of protecting Dillar's territory, and he needed a perspective he didn't currently have.
He summoned the noble steward.
The steward arrived — silver-haired, precisely dressed, the bearing of soone who had spent a lifeti in service to houses greater than his current employer. He bowed at ninety degrees.
"My lord Baron. Your advisor stands ready."
"Your na," Kian said. "I should have asked before now."
"It is my honour to be known to you, my lord. Kilian Stanton Cavendish. Thirteenth-generation associate of House Cavendish. Illegitimate branch."
Kian raised an eyebrow. "You're of noble lineage yourself?"
Kilian shook his head with a practiced composure.
"Not in any recognised sense, my lord. An illegitimate son carries no inheritance rights and was not acknowledged by the head of house. I was discarded. I received a good education before that beca apparent, and my knowledge of this world's noble genealogy and political history proved marketable. Hence the current profession."
Kian nodded slowly.
"Kilian — do you want to beco my permanent steward?"
Another precise bow.
"I do, my lord. To manage a noble house would be an honour."
Kian shook his head.
"That's not the real reason. You have another motive."
Kilian didn't dissemble.
"You're correct, my lord. I've studied your history. A young man from the Mid-Hive who fought and speculated his way to a barony in a matter of months. You have extraordinary drive and extraordinary potential. If I serve you well and you rise as far as I believe you can, you might one day see fit to grant a title of my own. Which would allow to return to House Cavendish and make a certain point about the value of what they discarded."
Kian looked at the old man for a mont — the controlled expression, the very precise investnt of hope behind it.
"You want to earn a title through your own capability. And then go back and show your family exactly what they threw away."
Kilian said nothing. His eyes said everything.
Kian liked people who wanted things and were willing to work for them. He decided to give the man a chance to demonstrate his value imdiately.
"Here's your entrance examination, Kilian. The Hive is heading toward war with the rebel forces. Five hundred hungry PDF regints are about to beco five hundred ard raiding parties operating through rebel territory. I need to protect one specific rebel Marshal's land from that. How do you do it?"
Kilian's mind visibly engaged. He understood the stakes — this was his interview.
After a brief silence:
"My lord — have you selected a location for your baronial fief yet?"
[End of Chapter 207]
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