Gods I've Never Served [Thysbae]

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Gods I've Never Served"

30 Searing 121 Steel

"I have to say, Mister...?"

"Lightborn." The tall, chiseled figure across the table replied after a beat.

"I have to say, Mister Lightborn..." Brenner pursed his lips and nodded approvingly at the resume before him, "You've an impressive background, and you come to me very highly recommended, but... Our background check indicates that you weren't originally born in Zaichaeri borders. From whence do you hail originally?"

"I prefer not to say, Commander Dornkirk." The hulking figure's nose twitched and his lip curled into an approximation of a snarl.

"And may I ask why not?" Brenner arched an eyebrow.

"Lest you find my origins distasteful, or even compromising." Lightborn replied in a gravely basso.

"Ours is a mission that will require absolute discretion from those who participate. Trust is paramount, Mr. Lightborn, and I will say that I do not judge a man for his place-of-birth. I judge a man based upon the content of his character." Though it remained unstated that when Air Commander Dornkirk said 'man' he meant 'human'. "For all I care, you might have been born in Kalzasi-..." Brenner took note of a twitch at the corner of Lightborn's eye, which darted away from his scrutinising gaze to study the table. "...So it was Kalzasi, then?"

"Aye." Lightborn nodded, sternly. "And a chaotic rat's nest it was." He snarled openly now, as if at the memory if his birthplace. "It were never my home, Commander Dornkirk. Just a place I happened to be for longer than I'd've liked. It weren't 'til I came to Zaichaer that I understood that a man could lead a just, orderly life." His eyes rose from the table, "Folk can't be trusted to manage their own affairs. They need a steady hand- An iron fist to guide them on the righteous path. Elsewise, they're like to do harm." His large hand formed its own fist, as he spoke through tightly clenched teeth. "In Zaichaer they know what's what. A body knows his place, and the State tends to them what don't." He locked eyes with Brenner in an intense grey gaze. "Zaichaer is severe, but not cruel. Your justice is swift. As it should be."

Brenner straightened his back, and studied the man's face. This seemed personal for him. Brenner cracked a smile.

"You seem like a man with whom I can do business, Mr. Lightborn. And you've braved the Warrens before?"

Lightborn sneered and answered with a single, profuse nod and a snort through flaring nostrils.

"Splendid. Why don't you meet me tomorrow at the headquarters of Dornkirk Windworks. I'll introduce you to my brother, and brief you a bit about our mission in more intimate environs." He said, with a broad gesture to the sparsely populated public house they currently occupied. "Say, nine o'clock?"

"Nine it is." The statuesque figure rose from his chair and towered over Brenner, even when he stood to offer his hand across the table. Lightborn's grip was firm enough to make Brenner's bones ache, but he managed to stave off the cringe that threatened to twist his visage. Instead, he maintained a cordial smile and nodded to Lightborn, as the man stalked out onto the street. "Splendid." He repeated to himself, reaching down to gulp down the rest of the ale he'd nursed during Lightborn's interview.

With that, he cast a wave toward the barman and made his way out the front door, turning left and then left again to duck into the adjacent alley. His hopes of tapping a familiar shortcut were dashed, when the sound of an anguished shout pierced the alleyway- resonating between the stone walls of the flanking building. In the shadowy environs, he could only see the silhouettes of two figures up ahead. The large of the two was leaning heavily against the wall of the tavern, quaking to hold himself erect and he clutched at his chest. The other silhouette might have been a child- ostensibly in some sort of costume with a bizarrely shaped hat or headdress of some kind.

Brenner jogged ahead to see what was going on, and made it there just as the man was falling to his knees- his face nearly purple as he gasped for breath.

"What's going on here, is he-..." Brenner's eyes locked with the otherworldly gaze of the child- but was it a child at all? He froze for a beat, but the struggling man, who he could now see was wearing the uniform of a reconciliator, was grasping handfuls of his trousers, and staring up with pleading, bloodshot eyes. Brenner huffed,

"Does this man have a medical condition you know of?" He asked of the creature, with an incredulous grimace.

[Thysbae]

This one was new. Thysbae liked meeting new reconciliatiors, but this one had never been put on his watch before. But he was seasoned. Maybe well warned to not give into the pleas of the half-breed. But he wouldn’t have been able to avoid the walkabouts Thysbae was allowed, which was why he was there in the first place. He’d taken care to brush out his hair — both his head and the soft hairs of legs — and dress presentably. A good impression could be a lasting one if done right, and he was determined for this to be. Thysbae had seen it as an opportunity to potentially make a friend of this officer, inquiring that all their activities be related to something...calming, mundane. Or, in the case of where they had just been, delicious.

But that proved to be a problem. They’d only gotten a few steps away from the bakery when the man was hit with first a coughing fit and then weak gasps for air. The halfbreed watched on in horror, strained whimpers leaving him in time with the gasps of the officer. Frantic stamping of hooves in an attempt to draw attention — but no one care for a Lysanrin and his keeper. Or, better yet, they dared not to.

Thysbae fretted over the man, the parcel of sweet buns dropping to the ground in his panic. The man trampled it underfoot and Bae’s whimpers became louder as further panic set in. He’d never had to deal with two emergencies at once like this. He wasn’t equipped for it. Bae’s voice was trapped, pleas for help too low as he tried to force them out past the lump in his throat. Round eyes watered, tears warming his cheeks as they flowed down. This couldn’t happen. He’d hardly even knew the man and he was dying right before him.

His own breathing turned erratic, hands fisting the fabric of his shorts. He hardly noticed the man that had approached the pair until he was right there. Asking questions and taking charge. But Thysbae couldn’t answer them. At least not with any helpful answers.

“This One was just — was just p-paired with him for the day.” He sniffed, hiccuped. “This One doesn’t know. H-he just had a treat. A-a sweet bun. W-will. Will he die?” The question seemed to strike more than just Thysbae. The man gave another harsh gasp for breath as Thysbae’s tears sprung anew at the thought that his (possibly) new friend would expire so soon.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner knitted his brow as he listened to the strange being, trying to shake off his discomfort at meeting such an unearthly gaze.

"A sweet bun?" He sighed with relief, "He's choking, then." Brenner decided, dropping to one knee to crook an arm behind the stranger and pull him up. The Air Commander was no medic. He'd only had the basic medical field training that all members of the military were expected to undergo. He was certainly no diagnostician, but this seemed like either a choking episode or an allergy. Brenner couldn't do much with the latter and, with no one else around who knew better, it seemed wiser to treat the former and hope for the best.

"Help?" Brenner suggested to the little thing with the antlers, as he struggled to draw the panicked, writhing man up to his feet from behind. He managed to wrap his arms around the fellow's midsection and grab the wrist of his right hand with the fingers of his left. With his arms locked in place, he made a fist with the right hand and sharply pulled inward.

The man was still writhing, but he'd been denied air long enough to have been significantly weakened, so his spasms were not as pronounced and Brenner was able to pump his abdomen at regular intervals until a chunk of what was once bread dislodged and spewed forth across the alley to the opposing wall. An exhausted Brenner, slumped back against the wall behind him with the strange man still in his arms- quaking and gasping for the breath that had been denied to him moments earlier.

Brenner released his grip on the man, but he just slumped against him all the same in his exhaustion. The Air Commander looked up to regard the little creature.

"You speak in the manner of a slave." Brenner belatedly recalled the phrasing used earlier when he'd directly addressed the beast. "Is this fellow your master? To answer your question, I believe he'll recover."

The man nodded emphatically, still trying to catch his breath, but awash with apparent relief.

[Thysbae]

It truly was a blessing that the man had shown up when he had. Any more time wasted, and surely the reconciliator would have died. Of that, Bae was certain. For one, he had little in the way of medical training aside from bandaging a small cut. He sniffed, perking up as the man addressed him once more to give aid. Another moment of floundering, and he was — very weakly — attempting to help the reconciliator to his feet. But such was the plight of someone not accustomed to doing any heavy lifting; the officer promptly dropped back down after not moving much more than an inch.

But it was good to know that he wouldn’t die. Thysbae himself crumpled to the ground, a fresh wave of relief turning his limbs to jelly. It was not often that he felt the full weight of how...unhelpful he could be outside of official capacities. “This One won’t ever ask for sweet buns again.”

The half-breed sniffed again, used his sleeve to wipe his tears away. The cotton soaked them up easily. Bae’s brows furrowed as he glanced down at the officer, then the man. Slave? He didn’t think the word applied to him. Never had he a chance to really have it used on him. For one, he dressed too well. At least, he thought he did.

“This One has no master, and as he said before, we’ve only just met today.” There was no anger to his words, but rather confusion. So heavily laced into his tone that he might as well have answered one question with another. But he had a few of his own. “Why do you think This One is a slave?” He wasn’t pouting; he wasn’t. But his understanding of the word slave held no positives, and that must have been that he’d done something bad — worse than almost losing a new friend.

The reconciliator finally moved away from the stranger, chest still rising and falling harshly with the remnants of his attempts to catch his breath. The knees of his uniform had been sullied by his struggles and at that sight Bae let out another whimper. The Order would see this and think he ought to be scolded, surely. He stood, panicked. His hooves clopped down on the stone of the alleyway, an odd sort of pacing starting. “This One thanks you greatly for your assistance, and if there is any way that he could repay you —?”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner slowly dislodged himself from being wedged behind the reconciliator, finding himself flanked by the recent choking victim on one side and the odd creature on the other. He was still panting from the exertion and adrenaline of the prior moment, and so he remained seated on the ground to catch his breath alongside the other two.

He tipped his head to look at the creature when it renounced sweet buns, and he started blankly for a moment before tipping his head back and breaking into peels of laughter. He wasn't sure if it had just been the deadpan delivery or whether he was put in strange humour from being overstimulated after the recent episode, but he guffawed.

Dabbing at the corners of his eyes with his sleeves, he wound down the cathartic hysterics and nodded.

"Yes..." He cleared his throat, "Yes, I suppose you did say that." A few errant chortles still interrupted his response, "You'll forgive me, if I was a bit distracted from the nuance of our exchange, given the choking reconciliator." The laughter finally stopped completely.

"Oh, well only because 'This one' keeps referring to themselves as 'this one'." He wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "I don't know why, but that just seems very... sort of... slavey." After he uttered that made-up word, his mind instantly came up with three alternative words that actually existed that he might have used instead- 'servile', 'submissive'... even 'slavish' would have been preferable, but there was no taking it back, now.

He tilted his head in the opposite direction to regard the Reconciliator.

"Can you walk?" Brenner inquired, "You should really get to a doctor."

"I'm supposed to chaperone the-..."

"Oh, bollocks, man. You nearly choked to death a moment ago. You're in no state to chaperone anyone. I'll tend to the little fellow. You get yourself to a medic." The Air Commander instructed, before turning his attentions back to the creature in question.

"No need for any of that, just... Is there somewhere I can take you? I-... Wait, why are you being escorted about? Are you a prisoner of some sort?" He wasn't sure whether that would be a step up or a step down from a slave, but it would certainly put Brenner more on his guard. He sat upright, tensing at the notion.

[Thysbae]

This was a strange man. No; it was that Bae hadn’t encountered many people in this sort of interaction before. A novelty in both direction and person. His head tipped to the side as he watched the man laugh, begin to compose himself. For a moment, he wondered if he ought to laugh to, gaze flickering over to the reconciliator as if to seek an answer from him. But it stopped soon enough.

The half-breed had never met a slave before. Maybe he had and was simply never given a name to match them with, but he didn’t see the connection in the way he spoke. His mother had told him that it made it easier to be around him when he spoke this way, and so he had. “Slaves talk?”

But — that was beside the point. The man jumped from the idea that Bae was a slave to a criminal. Both seemed equally offensive, the latter being the most pressing. He’d done too good to be branded a criminal. He’d done everything that had been told of him and more. A soft, simpering voice in his head contested that but he ignored it because what could he have possibly done wrong?

“This One isn’t a criminal!” His voice rose, shrill and cracking around the word as if it produced a panic in him. Which, it certainly did. The Order had been clear about what they would do to him if he veered away from what was allowed. Stories of delinquent Lysanrin were never far from the lips of the Order, relayed to him in passing as if it was a weather report and not something ghastly. “This One has never done anything bad. Promise!” He tacked on the word, shifting from one hoof to the other with newly watering eyes.

“This One works for the Order an-and they want to make sure he is protected.” That would be seen as both the truth and not. Protection was the goal, but not of him. Of the citizens that would inadvertently be in his presence. But, looking at him now, shaking with the effort to hold back another wave of tears like a child; he wouldn’t seem as though he posed much of a threat.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Well..." Brenner blinked, bemused at the cross-examination. "They can talk. I suppose it's more of matter of whether they're permitted to in public, but..." He shook his head, "Immaterial!" If the creature wasn't a slave, it didn't much matter as far as Brenner was concerned. He'd agreed to chaperone the little beastie, not to get into sociological discussions about slave culture in Karnor when it wasn't pertinent to his immediate task.

Brenner pushed himself to his feet, and turned to help the supine reconciliator up as well. Their eyes were locked when the creature declared its innocence and the reconciliator responded with a nod of confirmation to support those claims.

"Huh." Brenner replied with a shrug, double-checking the reconciliator's uniform to make sure it wasn't a strong counterfeit. If this man had been in plainclothes, he might have stopped this pair as a concerned Zaichaeri citizen to make sure nothing untoward was going on. Satisfied that such was not the case in the present moment, Brenner turned back to the non-slave, non-criminal creature with the military escort. Was it some sort of foreign delegate? Before he could pose further questions, he noted alarmed concern in the strange eyes of the smallish figure and furrowed his brow.

"It works for the Order?" Brenner's eyes snapped to the human for his affirming nod. "I see." He pursed his lips and considered his next move. "Well, get you to an infirmary. I shall conduct your charge to the nearest outpost of your Order." He patted the man on the shoulder, before turning his attention to his latest responsibility.

"All right, little one." He said, clapping his hands together once and letting them remain clasped in front of him, "I am Commander Dornkirk of the ZADC. And what are you called?"

[Thysbae]

Thysbae was not glad to have his outing cut short, but — at the very least he wouldn’t be in trouble if he was escorted back to the outpost. The man would certainly hold more weight in any sort of conversation about where his chaperone had gone, as well. Even more as he introduced himself, pulling Bae from his thoughts. Commander. That was a fairly important rank. The half-breed hadn’t thought much of acquainting himself with the military outside of the immediate need to show respect to anyone bearing such titles.

The half-breed stood straighter, chest pushed out and thighs pressed together as if a rod had been shoved up his backside. “T-this One is named Thysbae Ashtlin.” He fumbled over the words, perhaps more out of panic than anything else. “A Watcher of Purity for the Order of Reconciliation.” If Dreyfus were here, would he be proud of how well he’d introduced himself? He hoped so. He didn’t get to do it often.

“This One hopes he hasn’t taken you from something important.” Holding himself straight, and a little taller, didn’t feel comfortable. He was slouching again shortly after, hands clasped before him in a weak imitation of Dornkirk’s own stance. “Or — relaxing? This One had a day off so he wanted to take a walk, but...it hasn’t gone well.”

Thysbae had been told, many times within the Monteliyet Estate, that he should avoid giving out as much information as he could. It was fortunate the reconciliator had conceded to getting to a medic while the commander escorted him. Less for the man to reveal to the other.

“This One does not know much about the...ZADC. What, uh. What do you do there?” It was a child’s question, meant to distract as they walked. Maybe the other would find his company tolerant enough to allow for a slower walk to the outpost.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Well met, Thysbae." Brenner said with a curt nod. The response seemed perfunctory, but it wasn't outright rude. He didn't sound insincere in the greeting, so much as unenthusiastic. But that could have just been his coming down from the excitement of saving a man from choking.

Said man staggered off in one direction, whilst Brenner headed in the other with the unusual creature at his side. After studying the features a bit, he took it for some sort of strange-looking Rathari, but he didn't trouble himself to inquire.

"A Watcher of Purity? Really? Hm." He sounded taken aback, but he didn't verbalise his reasoning. Perhaps Thysbae would be able to gather that on his own, based on prior experiences in Zaichaer, but Brenner wasn't of a mind to make his distaste for lesser species known. They didn't really have an audience, and the creature had been quite deferential. Such a submissive comportment suggested to the Air Commander that this was a creature that knew its place, and he could respect that.

"The Zaichaer Air Defence Force." He explained, "I'm the second in command of a dirigible dreadnought..." He paused, realising that if this being didn't know what the ZADC was it was unlikely he was familiar with words like 'dirigible', "...An airship, that is." He glanced skyward to see whether he could catch a glimpse of any examples to point out to his temporary charge, but none could be seen above the high buildings on either side of them. Perhaps the smog of industry was too thick today.

"And, um... What is it you do for the Order, Thysbae?" He inquired, as they made their way out of the alley onto a main street.

[Thysbae]

Commander Dornkirk’s surprise was nothing new. While working with Dreyfus, there had been a certain measure of fascination with his presence in the Order, as well as by the side of the state-sanctioned mage. But those that did know the truth of his nature could understand, even if they weren’t particularly keen on working with a creature any part lysanrin. Which — it seemed as though the commander had not come to the conclusion of. Thysbae peered up curiously at the man, wondering what conclusion he might have drawn. Rathari was a common enough assumption that he ran with often, though there were few that could guess at any Fae blood within him.

He nodded, listening carefully as the man spoke. Airships could be visible from the estate, what with all the space they had. The half-breed found himself looking up to a smog-blotted sky as well for signs of one as Brenner did. “This One has never been on an airship before. Is it...different up there?” His head cocked to the side with the question, gaze flickering down to his hooves as he lengthened his strides to keep up with the commander.

The spellbreaker hadn’t expected the conversation to shift toward his own work, but he perked up all the same. Until he remembered that much of what he did was tied to an identity that he’d been instructed to keep under wraps of sorts. “This One is an investigator!” It wasn’t a lie. He did investigate things. Just...not on his own. A smile pulled at his lips as he looked down bashfully. “This One helps track mages. He’s not been doing it for very long, though. Training took some time.” At this, he nodded sagely to himself before peeking up at the commander. Would he be impressed? Not many were, but any sort of praise would be nice.

“What was your training like?” It may have been a bold assumption, but Bae found that people didn’t want to hear about him. If conversation was entertained, it was only to be polite, but when it shifted to focus on them they didn’t seem to mind much. He hoped the commander was of a similar mindset.