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Description

In the months following the conclusion of the escort war, tens of thousands of people were honorably discharged from the Infrastructural Military. It was the logical move economically and from the perspective of morale. A respectable number were still retained, among them a few wartime recruits but also many of the prewar career soldiers and sailors. Admiral Petrov Miles was firmly in the latter category, having been in the Infrastructural Military from it's earliest days as the Dalatyr Militia and for all of that he still had a few years left in him before mandatory retirement. Those decades in uniform had instilled in him a strong sense of duty and he knew that the Navy could use an experienced flag officer with the respect of it's crews, even if there was a promising new generation on the rise. In the days following the Peace Treaty the crew of the Avatar had been given shore leave and spent some time admiring the old city's grand architecture, a few truly excellent meals and shopping through the markets and shops. Despite spending a few months at sea leading a convoy escort to the colonies, it was well worth it when he returned home.

About six kilometers out of Borogskov was a villa. One of a series of homes built by Black Port Slaver Lords that had been confiscated by the Infrastructural Army when they were conquered and subsequently auctioned off or given to prominent servants of the state. It was a far cry from some of the villas and manors that foreign elites had built for themselves, but even before it had been renovated with improved heating, electrification and running water it was still far beyond the log cabin of his childhood or the Barracks of his early adulthood. On a warm summer evening he rolled up to it in a Navy Roadsteamer and with the assistance of his attendant and the house's two servants brought in a number of parcels containing linen, fine porcelain and glasswork, perfume, cheese, a couple of dresses and several bottles of wine, one of which he brought. When he came in, he saw something that he'd all to little of. A solidly built woman who'd helped him through a quarter of a century of conflict. His wife Anastasia. She'd been to him a lover and a friend, a mooring through turmoil, one to whom he could drop the facade of military stoicism and tempered bravado. A mother to three children, two of which had started promising careers and the youngest had excellent grades.

"Well, I hoped you had fun at sea darling." She said in just the right tone.

And with that man who'd started as a humble fisherman's brash son who'd come to lead soldiers, cannons and ships. Who'd faced down bandits, warrior hosts, slavers, pirates and the fleets of the Dark Elves. Who'd met with warlords, officers, captains, nobles, patricians, doges and frequently dealt with Committee Members. Who'd helped build an Army, a Navy and a Nation. Quietly wept. "A bit my dear, but it's good to be home."

From the Beginning

Previous: Infrastructure Part Two Hundred and Ninety Seven

Next: Infrastructure Part Two Hundred and Ninety Nine

Description

In the months following the conclusion of the escort war, tens of thousands of people were honorably discharged from the Infrastructural Military. It was the logical move economically and from the perspective of morale. A respectable number were still retained, among them a few wartime recruits but also many of the prewar career soldiers and sailors. Admiral Petrov Miles was firmly in the latter category, having been in the Infrastructural Military from it's earliest days as the Dalatyr Militia and for all of that he still had a few years left in him before mandatory retirement. Those decades in uniform had instilled in him a strong sense of duty and he knew that the Navy could use an experienced flag officer with the respect of it's crews, even if there was a promising new generation on the rise. In the days following the Peace Treaty the crew of the Avatar had been given shore leave and spent some time admiring the old city's grand architecture, a few truly excellent meals and shopping through the markets and shops. Despite spending a few months at sea leading a convoy escort to the colonies, it was well worth it when he returned home.

About six kilometers out of Borogskov was a villa. One of a series of homes built by Black Port Slaver Lords that had been confiscated by the Infrastructural Army when they were conquered and subsequently auctioned off or given to prominent servants of the state. It was a far cry from some of the villas and manors that foreign elites had built for themselves, but even before it had been renovated with improved heating, electrification and running water it was still far beyond the log cabin of his childhood or the Barracks of his early adulthood. On a warm summer evening he rolled up to it in a Navy Roadsteamer and with the assistance of his attendant and the house's two servants brought in a number of parcels containing linen, fine porcelain and glasswork, perfume, cheese, a couple of dresses and several bottles of wine, one of which he brought. When he came in, he saw something that he'd all to little of. A solidly built woman who'd helped him through a quarter of a century of conflict. His wife Anastasia. She'd been to him a lover and a friend, a mooring through turmoil, one to whom he could drop the facade of military stoicism and tempered bravado. A mother to three children, two of which had started promising careers and the youngest had excellent grades.

"Well, I hoped you had fun at sea darling." She said in just the right tone.

And with that man who'd started as a humble fisherman's brash son who'd come to lead soldiers, cannons and ships. Who'd faced down bandits, warrior hosts, slavers, pirates and the fleets of the Dark Elves. Who'd met with warlords, officers, captains, nobles, patricians, doges and frequently dealt with Committee Members. Who'd helped build an Army, a Navy and a Nation. Quietly wept. "A bit my dear, but it's good to be home."

From the Beginning

Previous: Infrastructure Part Two Hundred and Ninety Seven

Next: Infrastructure Part Two Hundred and Ninety Nine