15th of Frost, Year 121 Steel
Outside Zaichaer
Outside Zaichaer
It was Isold Stechpalme who put him on the trail.
Even after the expedition had ended, she had wanted regular checks on his health. Interaction with magical creatures always had some sort of effect, and sometimes they were slow-acting. In any case, the vision of his ears regrown—the feel of them even—had disappeared as soon as he and Stefan had escaped its enveloping embrace. Sometimes, though, he still heard and saw things that oughtn't to be there. She surmised it was reawakened some latent ability from his maternal bloodline; it was said Dratori could speak to nature itself. He hated it. But he couldn't deny the added beauty of the wind in his ears as it sang.
Mister Dornkirk had afforded him an extended test drive of an experimental air skiff as he followed this lead. The airship was small enough for him to manage on his own, though he had brought Dienerin—his Dienerin, a cousin of Stefan's—because the man missed the skies and he could pilot well enough if Eitan was for whatever reason occupied. Thankfully, this Dienerin didn't have a wife and children, so Eitan could drag him along and he was game.
Dr. Ilex's estate was far enough outside of Zaichaer proper that it was likely they would have to sleep on the airship, moored at his estate, rather than risk a night flight. Eitan trusted the Windworks in general and Stefan specifically, but he didn't want to abuse the trust being shown in him.
The skiff wasn't built for speed, but for pleasure. The helm was abovedeck, exposed to the elements, but for Eitan and his valet, it was an adventure and they had cold weather gear aplenty.
"Destination ahead, sir!" Dienerin called over the song of the wind. It was good to see the wounded warrior a bit excited, even if his cousin would likely have been upset he was showing emotion at all. But they weren't in Zaichaer; Eitan didn't mind. The man pulled the spyglass down from his gaze and pointed. Eitan followed his indication until he could see a faint plume of woodsmoke on the horizon; 'twas winter and while a man of Ilex's means surely had proper steam heat, there was a primal pleasure in a blazing hearth when Frost came freezing.
Eitan nodded and adjusted his course. Via correspondence, the Doctor knew to expect him and his valet. The man had seemed quite well-spoken and hospitable via their messages. Perhaps he enjoyed his isolation, but was happy for the occasional break in it. The Commander had memorized the instructions on where and how to moor the skiff, and when they were close enough, he reduced speed and maneuvered it carefully around. Though he wasn't a pilot for the Air Defense Corps, he had his training. As such, he enjoyed spreading his wings, so to speak, from time to time.
It was a clear, cold day, and between the two of them and once the skiff was secured, they went below decks and changed into winter clothes more befitting the visit. Eitan descended then, Dienerin in tow. He wore civilian clothes with a badge affixed to his lapel. While he was here in an official capacity, Ilex had asked him not to stand on ceremony.