As Miss Cross had gone about her business of securing the Warpieces in the airship's hold, and just before the Captain and Caster Haas began their discussion, Wing Sergeant Mary Stalwart had reported to the Captain for duty, and then embarked. Her presence would have gone largely ignored by the various Casters; at the moment, she was little more than just another non-commissioned grunt walking the deck with her pack in tow. After briefly making her way below decks and stowing her travel supplies with everyone else's, she made quick introductions with a few of the lower officers of the ship, and got to work. As she wasn't bottom of the rank barrel anymore, she wasn't relegated to much of the heavy lifting and carrying that the deckhands and mule warpieces were. Instead, she was expediting and directing, overseeing work and getting a good look at all the faces that came aboard. This sort of life was a day like any other for a common marine of the Airborne division. Disembark, transfer, come aboard, get to work and follow orders, until the cycle started again. It was all a sort of blur, merging one day into another, one voyage into another, one duty into another. It wasn't boring, but it was numbing, to a degree. Even the casual light skirmish with an enemy airship that had ventured too close to Steelshire territory had nearly become mundane.
Stalwart had been part of the compliment that had begun to scout and map the island, and from the things she'd overheard the officers discussing, she was to be transferred to the lead ship with the main exploration contingent as soon as she reached port. From experience, she figured that this probably meant she was going to be the scout for the landing expedition. Since then, she started reading into clues and context, to get an idea for what she was in for. Three ships were being sent; that was a decent detachment. The lead ship was one of the most armored, heaviest-class frigates in the fleet -- that meant they were either expecting a comparable enemy presence, or they were going to be carrying precious cargo of some kind. Or both. Following protocol, however, this mission was exploratory. The only thing Mary could think of that would warrant this kind of muscle protecting it were mana crystals, and lots of them ... but you don't bring crystals to an expedition site. As far as she knew, none of the lookouts had spotted any enemy factions near the new landmass when they were there, either, though. All of this information didn't quite come together for her, which annoyed her a little, as she'd been doing this job for close to 14 years, now. Still, she wasn't in any place to really ask around about it, and if she was being honest with herself, she didn't really care. This was probably just another typical expedition to stake out the crystal ore for the Mining division. They were going to use her as the keenly honed military tool she had allowed herself to become, she would live or die, and if it happened to be the former, the process would cycle once again. Maybe they'd give her a little shore leave, first, though; she hadn't been home to see her mother and step-brothers in more than two months.
After the Wing Sergeant dutifully checked on the state, stock, and lock of the armoury, she started sweeping decks for suspicious persons. The burlap sack was pulled free of the long-rifle called Ashburn, and she swung it off of her back and into her arms. As she moved, she chambered a round, and observed the goings-on of the above deck crew. "Make ready for launch!" shouted the first mate, parroting a much quieter order from the Captain, above. An ear-splitting screech bellowed from the call whistle, coughing a heavy plume of steam into the air for the props to mulch moments later. Mary didn't flinch at the nigh-deafening volume; the blow of a call whistle from 20 feet away was nothing compared to a Warpiece's cannon going off right next to your head. As she took a headcount of the deckhands, she noticed that there were not one but two Casters conversing in their midst. That's twice as much as one, which was the standard retinue for a mission like this. Perhaps they were sending two parties. The Sergeant decided this wasn't the case, as one of them decidedly lacked the confidence of a full-fledged Caster. The other might have been a full Caster, but it was impossible to tell right away. One of them had to be, right?
Casters are of utmost importance. This was the creedo that was pressed into the Sergeant's head during training. A fully trained caster, with a compliment of warpieces, was worth twenty men or more, depending on their skill. They generally single-handedly changed the tides of battles. Despite the fact that they sometimes did or didn't have ranks assigned to them, they were all to be considered superior officers. There was always a vague exception about the journeymen, but it was never quite clear whether one was beholden to them or not. Since they were usually attached to their fully-fledged mentors, it was usually just a safe bet to do what they told you, anyway. So, for this journey, she would be guiding one or both of these two into the new wilderness. Given the awkwardness level between them, she wasn't so reassured of their abilities. From what she could tell, one of them was trying to put the other in his figurative place, for some reason. It wasn't her business; she tried not to eavesdrop. Mary finished her sweep of the upper deck, then turned back toward the quarterdeck and called out, "All decks clear!" Several other NCOs and COs called out statuses in rapid succession. Everything seemed in order. The boarding plank was being pulled aboard by several crewmen.
"All hands to launch stations! Stoke the engines and shove off!" called the first mate again, and a series of parroting calls echoed all over the ship.
The engines began to roar below decks, and the propellers above and aft redoubled their efforts, causing the ship to part with its mooring. As Mary was headed back to her station next to the quarterdeck, she heard a couple of deckhands pointing toward the bridge and laughing amongst themselves. She approached to investigate, coming up alongside them but remaining silent as she pulled the hood of her greatcoat off of her head. What she saw made her truly question what was going on, here. There were two more Casters down there, as well as a lightweight Warpiece, running like a nightmare out of the core for the ship, even as it drifted away from the small island where it had been docked. Four. Four Casters. By the looks of things, one of these two were definitely not only fully-fledged, but decorated. The other ... was hard to read. She wasn't sure she was a Caster, at first, but the teamwork she exhibited with the Warpiece made it pretty clear she was in control. Realizing what was about to happen here, Mary's brow furrowed, and she reached out a hand aft and shouted, "Clear deck starboard!" One after another, the famous Judas Haas and his company came ceremoniously crashing onto the deck moments after any crew that had been bustling about there quickly scattered. Well, that wasn't something you see on every voyage. Not only were there definitely four Casters here of varying grade and stature, but apparently the Captain was in such a hurry to leave that he nearly forgot half of them. That's just something you don't do. You don't forget Casters like you don't forget ammunition for your cannons or fuel for your engines.
Everybody more or less stood around and stared at these late arrivals, and it took the salty crack of a CO's command to snap everyone to. Soon, everyone was in motion again, preparing for the journey ahead. Mary returned to her post, trying to steal a closer look at these Casters as she passed without being too conspicuous about it. There was definitely something familiar about the senior one. She felt like she should recognize him. She couldn't quite pin the thought, though. At least from here, she'd be able to hear their conversation better. Her concerns with eavesdropping were officially alleviated.
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