Kerrall Brandist Cathedral, Kerrall-Marnstead,
Northern Bramber Outskirts, Galidraan I (Summer of 874 ABY)
The weather-patterns for Galidraan I had been nothing short of glorious all week, and even then, with the little dusting of morning cloud - the bright, wondrous strength of the sun would burn an array of warm, lifelike colours into the early-morning skies above. This was God's country, and Bramber hadn't changed a day since his previous visit in '67, and though the Kellas was only boarding in this region to give his ears a break from the noise and the hustle-and-bustle of the Calavaran outskirts to the north.
A great spot to bring the wife on a romantic retreat, though Lady Helen was still sleeping soundly at the time Lord Aron embarked on his journey to the planet's capital city, strolling the streets of Kerrall-Marnstead with the night before still fresh in his mind, enough that it put a rather obvious spring in the Lord-Colonel's step. Put under control by the time he reached the speeder-taxis parked out the front of the Mayor's office, and made all the easier by the well-behaved driver when Gowrie hopped in at the seats behind him, the Kellas would be relieved to see the plainly amiable demeanour as the elderly man in front drawled,
'Mawnin', sir.', in a supremely recognisable Southern-Galidraani commoner's accent. This region had given rise to a constantly-improving battalion of soldiers, bloodied in both the Reconquest of Galidraan III and in the Siege on Citadel Caelitus, and in the recollection of this fact, Lord Aron couldn't help but feel reassured by the safety the realisation had assured within him.
'G'mornin', sur. Everything alright this morning?'
Lighting a cigarette in front, prompting the Tuath to do the same, the Bramberite smoked a couple draws before replying,
'Can't 'elp but take in the wevvah just a little earlier t'day, been like this fuh weeks.... Nuffink else to call it but 'eavenly, sir.', with a rather dreamy-eyed view of the view of the sky beyond the cathedral uphill, caught easily in the rear-view mirror as the tariff-meter stayed at the 0.00-mark next to it. This was an honest town, in an honest part of the planet's largest continent, there would be no such instances of charging as soon as hypothetical passengers settled into their seats, and certainly not from one who was born and raised so far from the urban wiles and hustles of Calavar Province at that. However, in the archetypal Calavaran's accurate and pertinent defence of their own city, one would correctly argue that the brutally-modernised metropolis itself had undergone many much-needed changes since, even if old habits remained to die hard in some of the older, rougher commoners among them.
Fair play, mate. Reassuring to know there's plenty o' your sort still around though.
The driver would turn the engine on and leave the meter untouched to drive home the point after noticing Aron's clearly-seen approval, silent though it was, continuing,
'Yeah, the cabbies from the city often move aht 'ere wivv their 'abits an' feel the regret settin' in soon after.... Makes my job easier, makes Bramber just that little bit more peaceful as time passes. As all fings should be, mate.', as the sun finally broke over the rooftops. Both would sigh in delight at the view as they enjoyed the silent serenity of it all, smoking the rest of their cigarettes with smiles on their faces until the unlikely acquaintances were done smoking, flicking the cigarettes away and putting on their seatbelts before the driver turned around and offered his hand in the hopes he could make a more formal greeting, quickly accepted as soon as Lord Aron's buckle clicked secure.
'The name's George, and you're going into Calavar - I can tell already.'
THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S PALACE: ARON'S VISIT TO CALAVAR - PART ONE
The Palace Quarter, (Formerly The Crown Quarter)
Calavar, Galidraan I (Summer of 874 ABY)
'Easy transfer, safe as 'ouses! And just to confirm; you said you wanted anuvva booking back 'ere in a couple hours, correct?'
Shaking the driver's hand in their brief parting, Gowrie answered,
'Aye, that's actually perfect. See ye in a wee bit, George. We'll be back in Bramber afore ye know it.', with an endearing nod before letting go and stepping out with a royal wave in jest, and in lasting disdain towards the kingly or queenly sort who were known for behaving in such a manner. George would laugh and nod in agreement with the gesture in disdain towards their former masters, offering a royal wave of his own before driving off to make scenic uses of his time, leaving Aron alone to chuckle to himself and make his way east. The Blue Palace awaited, but not only that, but the legend residing within who summoned the Kellas awaited far more eagerly than the estate itself; and though it had been around seven years since he last set foot on those grounds, something was telling the Lord-Colonel that this visit had much greater implications than those that awaited the completion of his first visit.
Haven't even seen the Lord-Protector since Nirauan.... Is this about the Maw, Fel perhaps?
By the time the Free-State palace guards were visible, the Tuath-born Laird couldn't help but wonder how the Lord-Protector was faring in the years since the defence of New Carannia, as old age would always have a wicked way with the ones who rested on their laurels of their fighting years, and Lord Aron knew that the would-be Moff had been rightly enjoying his time away from the rigors that war inflicted on the mind in complete contrast to the ailments and atrophies of later life. Any man who'd lived the life Willan Tal had lived would have done the same in the Lord-Protector's shoes, any self-respecting Galidraani at least, as it was for the Goidels to do all the fighting and flaying of their own souls into their older years, it was for the Goidels to die in the heat of the Crucible like their folk-heroes and knights of old alike. In blessed contrast, fate had made it so the Galidraani viewed aging through differing, stoic lenses, something that not even the Tuath clans could begrudge.
'God save Galidraan, Milord! So what's your view on all this Moffdom business then?'
The broad northern accent was all too easy to detect, lessening the Lord-Commander's irritation towards the unwarranted query as he considered his kindlier answer, turning back after passing through the gate as he lit another cigarette and weighed his words a little longer, though fortunately to no irritation of the patient guardsmen who turned to face him in anticipation. Yet, in that moment, when Gowrie appraised their uniforms, he found them both standing to attention, holding his gaze with a hopefulness in their eyes that would've been quite alien to their ilk just ten years before. This worried the Lord-Colonel greatly, for hope often invited complacency, a complacency that made a world conquerable - a fate of which the Kellas had internalised a vow to keep from befalling Galidraan.
'Better toughen up, lads. In times like this, Warlordism and Moffdom alike, an' as much as I hate to admit it, invite war and strife from these outcomes' equally-reviled circumstances. Sadly this is t'become one o' the Galaxy's great constants. Just like Galidraan's presence at the forefront o' the worst of it.... Sorry, lads. Nae happy endings in sight yet.'
Rinoi Ssiv
and other Rebels 
