Flight of the Nachtherr. [Florian]

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin glanced at his subordinate, then back to the horizon. Of course, he could see physicians making Albrecht's routine visits uncomfortable, but if he started getting complaints from the powers that be, he would have to insist, lest the complaints reach Captain Merovech's desk or, worse, Vigilant Richter's. He would shield the Lysanrin from what he could, but there were rules and ways that things were done that couldn't be circumvented without repercussions.

Anyway, if the nurse was comely and had small hands, the rectal probe could even feel rather nice.

"Indeed, no death, please."

He glanced once more to the private when tears began to fall. Looking on glumly, he shrugged and returned to piloting the stealth ship.

"Emotions are messy," he offered without judgment. Angevin had been present for quite a few messy emotions where Albrecht was concerned, and if he didn't always understand, he tried to be understanding. It was always uncomfortable, but he still wanted to be there for the man, both as his superior and his friend. Lives were, by and large, messy. There was nothing to be done about that, though. The people that mattered were the ones who would trudge through the muck alongside the people they cared about.

After a moment, he launched into something else entirely. It was connected, of course, but might have seemed disjointed in their conversation.

"Obviously, I'm invincible," he began with comically hyped bravado, "but if something should happen to me while we are in the Warrens or... ever... I want you to trust in the chain of command. Captain Merovech knows you've been a model airman. Vigilant Richter knows you have been compliant and invaluable. But also... though you may not like or trust them, the Dornkirks have sway as well. Brenner with the military, Stefan with academics and intelligentsia, both of them with the affluent and influential. Orator Beeman might speak on your behalf to the Order, as well. All the people here who will see you being your heroic self will be part of the network that supports you. They know you can be trusted with classified missions, you know? And I've known the Dornkirks since we were boys. I will make sure you are taken care of if something happens to me. Not that anything will."

He paused, checking in again. "All right?"

[Florian]

Florian stared at Eitan for a few moments, and then his gaze settled on the scenery. Sometimes Eitan believed so much in the idea that he would be okay, or normal, or even accepted that he wanted to believe it to. It was such an unlikely future, and he wasn't even sure if that was what he wanted in the end. To be nothing. To be simple. To be an airman. To work for the state that would cruch him under its heel the second he stepped out of line, or the second he was too dangerous. And to him, there was no if, only when. Another tear streamed down his cheek.

"I appreciate the optimism. I appreciate the sentiment, even, but I don't really believe that in the case that Zaichaer decides I'm no longer useful, any of you or the Dornkirks or anyone else will be so willing to stop them. Whether you're here or not, I am easily replaced as an airman, I am a liability as a mage and as a Lysanrin, and I am hard pressed to think my friendship is worth the consequences." He had already come to terms with this line of thinking, but he was still scared. He had no plan for pulling himself out of this chain of events, and he pushed on with the single hope that something will happen, something will change.

There was no telling what that could be, or if it would be. He was not so pessimistic as to believe he was simply going to die without a chance. It was a thought he had to keep in mind, sometimes, even when delving into the Warrens for the state he was so sure would want him dead at the drop of a hat.

"But I'm trying."

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin's lips compressed into a thin line. He knew better than anyone the dangers Albrecht faced. In different circumstances—had Albrecht not enlisted and the Order found him more intriguing than a danger—he might have been the danger that Albrecht faced. But now they were a team, a partnership blessed by the Order and the Corps, and he needed Albrecht to focus on succeeding in the grander, overarching mission of keeping him alive. He didn't consider himself an optimist; he knew the dangers, but he also knew how they might be circumvented. He supposed he couldn't be angry given the stresses Albrecht was under. Faith was difficult amid depression.

"I think between your mother's death, the wedding, and preparations for the expedition, I failed to bring up some news: Richter assigned me a mentee. They are an Aspirant older than I am." His lip curled a bit around that. He knew not everyone worked as tirelessly as he did, but a person ought to have achieved a standard rank by twenty-seven.

"In any case, they are marked with the Rune of Kinetics, so I anticipate us training together, magically and perhaps for combat. They told me they have far too many obligations for them to focus on their work with the Order, though, so we may end up having to take them down to the Warrens and feed them to a fear wraith until they straighten up." He laughed. He was joking—wasn't he?

"But I will have to oversee their investigations. I wonder what else we will be assigned when we return. Are you aware, I wonder, of the witch covens—the Grymalka, the Railrunners?"

[Florian]

"An aspirant older than you? Who doesn't have time for the Order he joined? Why even bother?" The change in topic was almost humorous enough to knock Florian out of his mood. He was not intimately familiar with Kinetics. He couldn't quite remember the names of everything that he had seen used, that had been used around him, especially before he joined the corps. Judging by the name, he figured it had to do with movement. If it was offensive, it would work well to practice against Eitan. Unless he was intent on overworking himself, though, it would also mean that they would have less time to work together.

Unless...

"You mean the three of us, then? I haven't tried with Kinetics. That I know of. Do you know what else they can do? Can they throw a punch better than me, you think?" He smiled at his own joke. He wasn't terrible at fighting, but he was small. His mother was the one who taught him how to defend himself after he kept losing fights, which made it all the more terrifying that she had been killed. In her own home. Maybe that's why; she had her defenses down. It wasn't like she was found traveling the slums at night. If that had been the cause of her death, maybe he wouldn't feel as agitated about it. But his mind was wandering now, and he had to reassert his train of thought before his emotions got the best of him again.

"I'm not familiar." He knew there were secret mages in Zaichaer, though he had never affiliated himself with any particular group, nor had he ever learned the names — of anyone, any mages, let alone how they organized themselves or interacted. He was an outsider to many groups, and they were no different. Most of his knowledge of magic now came from his working with Eitan, and even that was limited now to Negation, and even further with just what he could see, or what he could take. The rest of it was just unknown to him. "What are they?"

[Eitan Angevin]

"I didn't ask too many questions," he admitted, making a slight adjustment to their course based on what he saw. Later, if his instinct proved incorrect, they might have to adjust their course to compensate. Thankfully, this was simple enough that he could get away with flying by feel. "Anyway, Richter likes to cut them off when I do ask. She's more of a sink or swim sort of mentor."

He shrugged. Angevin was never one to ask for kinder treatment and so he rarely got it.

"Given their lack of advancement, I would hazard to guess you could put them down in a fair fight." He smirked, not minding the idea of putting his various wards into informal bloodsport for his amusement—and their training. "But I haven't yet sussed out their value. Richter thinks they have potential, else they wouldn't be under her protection for the time being. But she's my superior, so here we are." He was still trying to convince Albrecht that working within the system until one had enough authority to alter the system was the way to play. Of course, he would always have more power than Albrecht in Zaichaer, but that was natural. It could still lead to an improvement for the private and his Lysanrin brethren.

"The witch covens?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "Little cults that have often been hit by the Order but never fully wiped out. Like an infestation of rats or cockroaches, they go to ground and become difficult to trace. It seems as though they have gotten to be a bit creative with their power out of necessity." He shrugged. "The Grymalka do their unnatural death magics, and the Railrunners... They're the slipperiest of the lot. They seem to be able to escape situations nobody else can."

[Florian]

"Vigilant Richter likes to make you play babysitter." Florian mused. He was one such project, and it seemed the line between his being in the ZADC and however the Order decided to meddle was blurred beyond recognition. Of course, he was technically in the ZADC, but it seemed to be much more complicated than that. His very decision had made his mother worried and angry — he had committed the cardinal sin of standing out.

Even in the middle of conversation, his thoughts liked to lead him astray. He blinked a few times and tried to focus on what Eitan was saying instead of daydreaming.

"Death magics? That's...interesting." Florian did not sound as if they were interesting as much as they seemed uncomfortable and gross. "How do the Railrunners escape situations? What magic do they use?"

His own ignorance was starting to annoy him. He did not know the names of the gods or the names of most magic or even what sorts of magic was out in the world, and it was not something that bothered him before. Now he felt stupid.

"I guess if you knew exactly how they escaped they wouldn't be an issue anymore. Can't cut off the head of a snake if you can't find the head and all that." Florian crossed his wrists behind his back. He had a surprising lack of curiosity as to how the magical underworld of Zaichaer organized itself, with only a vague awareness that it must exist because he had met mages before, and because he had attempted at secrecy himself. But he had never any backing of something or someone like a coven, and he had ended up working for the State before it became relevant.

"But...what's your point? Why are you bringing them up now?"

[Eitan Angevin]

"Aye, and glad I am that I don't have to change diapers, at least."

Angevin snorted. But he had grown to enjoy working with Albrecht, even if he was difficult at the best of times. Whatever the struggles, the Lysanrin was now somebody he trusted to bring into a top-secret initiative and to watch his back in the danger of the Warrens and afield from the safety of the High City. He hadn't anticipated that, nor that he would become Albrecht's sole emotional support. That was some stupid bad luck for Albrecht—Angevin wasn't the best with feelings, whether his own or anyone else's.

As for the covens, "Well, as much as we're calling this a holiday for the purposes of secrecy, work will be awaiting our return. The Noble Gambit ought to be up and running, and other than training Leichenberg, we ought to have more casework from the Order." While Albrecht wasn't a member of the Order, he was very much an asset of the Order on loan to the Air Defense Corps. But Angevin would now be overseeing Leichenberg's cases, which meant he would need to keep Albrecht close in order to keep an eye on him as was his responsibility, and because the man could help him. If he did, there would be that many more reports from Angevin on record to make his reputation all the more sterling.

"Just distracting you from the doldrums with possible work ahead of us. Presumably, the Railrunners use Traversion, but how they use it..." He shrugged and kept his eyes on the horizon. "They're escape artists."

[Florian]

"Escape artists. That's fun. I don't think I can do anything so interesting." Florian could tell he was stronger, but he was unfamiliar with the real extent of what he could do. He figured he would find out soon enough. And if he was getting stronger, he only imagined that Eitan was, too. Just as intended — someone who could match him if he ended up dangerous.

That was the problem with him. Of course, everyone was wary of mages, but he was a Lysanrin cautiously allowed to cultivate power, and it was a worry he had expressed enough times to Eitan about when that would end, when he'd be too dangerous. He wasn't like the Railrunners, who could apparently escape the Order with ease.

"You spend so much time working, even your vacations are work." Florian was still a bit misty-eyed, but he was getting over it. It was somewhat easier to pull himself together. He had to be better at pulling himself together. "She was the same way. But she had to if we were going to eat. Well, when I was able to work, she didn't have to work so hard, but..." Florian shrugged.

"I started working when I was twelve, but I am absolutely terrible at keeping jobs. Something about an attitude problem. Issues with authority. You wouldn't know anything about that, of course." He smiled. For some reason, in almost every social situation and without fail, Eitan would tell him to stay quiet. And every time he would not listen. And every time Eitan wouldn't stop him anyway. Maybe he thought it was funny. It didn't seem to end up poorly for him, at least.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Mm," he agreed halfheartedly. "Fun."

But he still had a faint smile on his face. His was the sort made of sharp lines, easily cast in a cruel light. There were surprising curves, though, softness that could be quite the opposite of cruel when he wanted to be. There was nothing to be done, really, about Albrecht's grief but to grieve and to give him space and support to grieve when the exigencies of their work allowed. But it was easier for Angevin not to let it drag him down, that inability to fix a thing, while a prototype stealth airship was responding to the most casual movements of his hands.

"I wonder what would happen if a storm caught us," he mused, "took us far away from civilization and dumped us there. What would become of us? Would we fall victim to monsters and elements? Infighting? Or would we come together and figure it out? Survive." Angevin wasn't one for reverie, but there was a hypnotic element to the horizon, so far away that it could be holding anything from glory to doom. A part of him wanted to just keep flying. His best friends were here, though he would miss Delia. He would miss Lucrece. But among them, they had the wits of Stefan and Agata, the skills of Dr. Stechpalme to keep them alive. They had Myles and all their various skills to keep them alive and safe.

The boy he had been had dreamed of unending adventure. The man he had become wondered what awaited them in the depths of the Warrens. Of them, he and Albrecht knew best what they might come up against. He wasn't afraid, but he was wary. They all ought to be.

"Who's cooking supper?" he wondered. "You or Dienerin?"

[Florian]

The change in topic had Florian looking far into the horizon, too. City was really most of all he had known. You could consider Zaichaer its own sort of forest, with its own treacharies and dangers, but it was one he was accustomed to. Elsewhere was its own beast, and he had very little experience. Whether the question was rhetorical or not, Florian answered.

"Survive, I'd hope. That's what we're about to be doing, anyway." But where Eitan thought of people he would miss, Florian knew that there was really no one waiting for him in Zaichaer. No one that would miss him if he disappeared, if a storm took them. The State would not be pleased, but it wasn't the same as knowing there was someone waiting for you to come home. And if there was anyone he would return to Zaichaer for, he was already standing next to him.

"I hope it's not me. She was the one who was good at cooking, I just had to figure out how to help without getting in her way." He shrugged. "Though I guess...if I helped Dienerin, then it would be both of us." It was a funny question, granted. Eitan had seen him help prepare dinner once, but considering the general lack of food kept in his apartment and his boniness, it was clear he was no chef himself. All the same, he could cut vegetables.

"Maybe I should go and ask if anyone needs any help." It was a suggestion offered, but he decided to follow it, and left the room to be useful elsewhere.