It had not taken long for the rest of the militia to convince the remaining sellswords to lay down their arms, and though Piper's actions had gone far from unnoticed, they had also been far from welcomed. After that day, Piper had been taken to Prescott's office in the capital city of New Albion where she had been set for trial. A looming threat of being dismissed and possibly even imprisoned hung over the trial for her charges of treason - for "disobeying the commands of a superior officer and taking unwarranted actions of violence" - described as such by Captain Henshaw himself.
Unwarranted my arse, she had thought, they would have cut you down not a moment later
Though she hadn't said it, he turned an accusatory sneer towards her, stretching his pencil-thin mustache even tighter across his lip.
"I'd like to know what you intend on doing about this matter, Sir." Henshaw snipped as he jabbed a sharp finger in Piper's direction. "Her actions in Westgulf could have easily led to a declaration of war from King Edwin. Tensions are high enough as it is."
Piper remained tight-lipped. She folded her arms and sank back into the padded armchair as Prescott scrutinized her from behind his desk. A clock ticked away dutifully as he looked expectantly between her and the officer, but she would say no more. She had already spoken her piece, now it was up to Commander Prescott whether to damn her or deliver her.
Piper could tell from his hesitation alone that the Commander had seemed to see the situation in a similar fashion to herself, though he did not let it show easily.
"Very well then," he began,"the way that I see it, it seems as if Miss Raddendale fancies her decisions to be wiser than that of her superiors. From this point forth I will be stripping her of the rank of Lieutenant, and she shall be transferred to a division where the consequences will be quite a deal harsher for disobeying orders."
Piper had long since learned to read between the lines of Prescott's political jargon - she would surely be transferred to where the orders she received would hardly need to be questioned for competence. Yet, Prescott's sentencing seemed to sit well with Captain Henshaw, who filled out his signature on the report with a smug grin. Prescott dismissed him from the office, and he left satisfied and without another word. Watching his back as he marched out through the door, Piper swiveled back around in her chair to face Prescott. Her entire demeanor had changed now that it was just the two of them.
"I wish to be transferred to your Skyfleet division, as an Airman of 3rd Class."
Prescott raised an eyebrow, "I do not ever recall that decision ever being left up for you to decide," he said curtly.
"With all due respect, Commander," began Piper, composing herself with a formal air, "I see myself as perfectly capable of handling the responsibility, and I will act within all due accordance demanded of my position."
"Seeing as how you were just dismissed from your latest position in less than two roats of receiving it - on accusations of treason no less - I severely doubt that." He scoffed, leaning back in his chair.
"I was forced to take action based on the conclusions I came to on the enemy's perceived course of action, Sir."
"Against the orders of a superior officer."
"He was a dolt, Sir."
Prescott snickered at this, and locked eyes with the dismissed soldier.
"Did you really need to take a life, Raddendale?" he questioned seriously.
"I would not have used lethal force unless I deemed it the most direct way to discourage further bloodshed." she explained.
Shifting uneasily, she added after a moment. "All of that considered, it wasn't my first time doing so, as you know from my records...Sir."
Piper scanned Prescott's face as he sighed at her words. Was it pity she saw in his eyes? She smiled tightly. Having essentially raised her, Piper knew Prescott to be a man of little emotion when it came to duty - pity was not one of them. She did not know if being the subject of the Commander's pity gave her joy or despair.
Prescott changed the subject quickly.
"No woman in our nation's short history has ever made it past 1st Class on an Airship since the Skyfleet's founding. Certainly not someone as young as yourself."
"I intend to be the first, Sir."
"Is this your dream that you're hounding after, or your fathers?"
Piper opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She went through nearly half a dozen responses in her head before she found one that could be considered polite enough to offer.
"It is my dream because of my father."
Prescott pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was tiring of a discussion that had, historically, continued to repeat itself.
"Your fostering was done as a favor to you, not as a final service to Atticus."
Piper had no response. They stared in deadlocked silence for a long time, until the lines on Prescott's face deepened with a sigh.
"I am transferring you to the 2nd Naval Fleet under Captain Jeremiah Tartan. The Captain is taking on a rather large group of various transfers from other divisions and Quarters, and he has stated in our correspondences that he is in need of hands for a number of internal issues they have been facing. You will await further instruction at Ferrier port, tomorrow noon."
Piper was dumbstruck. The Navy?
"Sir, with all due respect, I have never received any naval training, I would be much better suited for the Skyfleet division." she protested.
"Then it is a grand old thing that we do not base all of our decisions off of the wishes of our subordinates. I have arranged a steamcoach to pick you up from your temporary bunkhouse here at 0400, please be packed and ready by that time." said Prescott whilst sternly returning to the papers on his desk, but Piper would not waver.
"But Sir -"
Prescott's fist sounded like a courtroom gavel as he pounded it on his desk to end her sentence and deliver his. "That is an order, Raddendale, learn to obey them. Now take your leave and be grateful you aren't facing a sentencing, as some have wished."
"Yes Sir." spoke Piper stiffly, standing and turning to the door.
"One more thing, Miss. Raddendale." Announced Prescott.
Piper stopped with her fingers caressing the brass handle, but did not turn around.
"The divisions of Land, Sea, and Air are the three pillars that make our nation's military strong. One cannot safely climb a ladder without putting a hand and foot on each rung. Take care to remember that. You are dismissed."
She continued out of the office without a word.