Best Left Forgotten [Brenner]

[Stefan Dornkirk]

46th Frost, Late

White Knight Hall

The Wedding of his brother-in-law had been more to Stefan Dirnkirk's liking than his own had been. Aside from the choice of bride, of course. Not that Stefan had any complaints about Eitan's own choice, it was simply not one that would have suited him. The simple ceremony aboard the Noble Gambit, and the lack of official reception in lieu of attending a party being held by someone else meant that the couple could enjoy it, and that Stefan could spend time with them instead of waiting in the wings as Eitan had been forced to do for him.

All in all, the first major event he had attended as Man and Wife with Delia had gone off splendidly. His delightful spouse had ordered them complimentary ball outfits and it was such a relief to be able to introduce her and watch the hopeful expressions on the eyes of hunting debutants fall away. He hadn't been forced to dance with anyone but his wife, though he had chosen to dance with both Jane Farroway and Lucrece, there was the possibility of both of them being his sisters in the future, and he got along with both. They felt safe, though Jane felt safer than Eitan's bride, who had a bit of a wicked sense of humor. She would suit her new husband, but she might also be a trial to Stefan once in a while.

Once everyone who was invited to the after-party at the Hall had been bundled into warm clothing and then bundled off to the new destination, Stefan got himself and Delia into his steam carriage, which was a deal faster than a traditional one, so they were able to arrive before the guests. Greeting them at the door and ensuring everything that was wanted was had, so that the newlyweds could continue to enjoy themselves without obligation, Mr. and Mrs. Stefan Dornkirk eventually made their own way into the pavilion that had been set up outside. Braziers warmed the area, but it still felt open, and it was a beautifully clear night.

Things degenerated quickly among the guests who arrived mostly intoxicated already, to the sort of party Stefan had heard of, but never attended. They were all of the same generation, young, happy, and drunk. Stefan stayed mostly on the edges, conferring with Dienerin whenever questions came up, while Delia flitted among the guests like a queen butterfly. Stefan was not worried, his wife could hold her own in social and dangerous situations alike. Whatever indiscretion she might take a fancy too were equally not something that upset him, he had no doubt of her love and her body was her own. Besides...

Well, he would think about that later. He wasn't sure when Brenner had arrived, but when he spotted him he plucked two glasses of sparkling wine from a passing server and brought them over.

"Hello, Bernner," He said, sounding warmly pleased to see his brother, as well as a bit tipsy himself, "Bit wild for my tastes, eh? Is this the sort of thing you servicemen get up to nowadays?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner was happy for Eitan. At least his rational mind was. But there was a cynical part of him that envied the younger man for beating him to the altar. It was his own fault, of course, for not prioritising marriage whilst focusing on his career. As much as they may have bucked against the designations, in the end Stefan was the heir and Brenner was the spare so it simply wasn't as important for him to marry. In Melchior's master plan, Brenner had always been meant to bring glory and take risks they couldn't afford to allow Stefan to embark upon. Well, not without a great deal of convincing or deception, at any rate.

Unfortunately, he wasn't looking his best these days and the rumours of ill health probably weren't doing much to aid his marriage prospects. So it was that he was flowering the wall when Stefan approached.

"Talk of the devil." He said, apropos of nothing as he had very clearly been standing alone and speaking to no one when Stefan drew up to him.

"Mists, no." Brenner sounded almost offended at the assumption, but he was smirking so perhaps it was in jest. "No, honestly I'm rather taken aback. Perhaps it's our new money upbringing talking, but I'm not keen on pushing the limits of decency merely because I can get away with it. Thank you." He accepted the offered wine and rested his back against the wall behind him.

"It seems an odd way of celebrating a wedding between two souls, if you ask me." And he downed half the contents of the glass in one gulp, because it soothed the nerves currently being rankled by this behaviour.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

"Mmm, indeed." Turning his own back to the wall beside his brother so that he might observe the scenes being played out before them while they spoke he was able to see that, while no actual intercourse was going on, at least not of a sexual nature, the casual states of undress and touch were far more than he was comfortable with.

Delia was in a slimmer, less formal dress than she had worn to the masquerade, but no parts of her were showing that she wouldn't show at a family tea table. He wondered then, at what point he would have stepped in to protest if she did begin to be even less formal in her attire or behavior. The question was not one easily answered and more complicated for Brenner's presence at his side.

Ignoring it for the nonce, as he did not suspect he would be a matter he needed to attend to, he sipped at his wine.

"The happy couple seems mostly to be keeping their hands to each other, but I can't disagree with the oddity of it." Perhaps this was relatively normal among the old money nobility, perhaps his own lack of such had been seen as new money conceit. He didn't care if it had, and he certainly hoped Brenner would not engage in such when his turn came.

"How is my brother?" The inquiry was not merely polite, there were still days when Stefan was convinced his sibling had caught some odd, lingering Warren's sickness. It made sense that the sort of fevers common to overland marshes might also linger in subterranean ones. A note had been sent to the commanding officer of the military men who had come with them on the journey, inquiring as to their health, in case one of them had caught it as well. Stefan either regularly saw, or regularly corresponded with everyone else who had been on the expedition. Well, except for Albrecht, damn him. Remembering suddenly that Brenner had been scouting alone with the Lysanrin on at least one occasion he said,

"Brenner, nothing strange happened when you were out scouting with Private Albrecht, did it?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"I mean..." Brenner took a more moderate sip of the effervescent wine before composing his thoughts to words. "I could see this sort of thing at a Stag Do, but after the wedding itself?" He wrinkled his nose. "Just seems a bit, um... I don't know- Indulgent?" He gestured vaguely with his crystal flute. "I guess it just strikes me rather more suited to the wanton folk of Kalzasi than the stalwarts of Zaichaer." They might have been fighting words, if he'd expressed them to Eitan, but Stefan felt like a safe outlet for his discomfort. Stefan tended toward discomfort more easily, after all.

"I wonder whether I'm not becoming dependent upon alcohol." Brenner replied to the question about his state of being. "Spirits are the only thing that seem to agree with me sometimes. A strange thing, that." He'd forgone alcohol for the most part in their preparations for the excursion, but since returning there had been so much to celebrate. And, indeed, he'd found that his stomach tolerated alcohol better than most of what he consumed of late.

"Well... Nothing that we haven't talked about. You'll recall there was a cave-in that would have killed me if Florian hadn't intervened with some of his purloined aether. And I found that bio-sample I brought back to you that I thought might have been the 'fresser, but turned out to be some sort of fungus..." He knitted his brow,

"You don't think it might have been that, do you? No... that wouldn't make sense. You handled the specimen, too, and you're looking no worse for wear." He thought back to that day, trying to mine his memories for more information, but he came up empty. Besides, it was difficult to focus with everything going on in front of them.

"Dünste! Gisela hat einen Schwanz in ihrem Mund." He shook his head and sighed, "So fängt es an."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan was entirely in agreement with Brenner's assessment and he nodded, humming his concurrence.

"Perhaps, due to having to see to his duties, there was no place for a Stag get together beforehand. Do women have Stag parties? Doe parties?" Considering the phrasing for a moment he dismissed it and continued, "If so, perhaps the decision was to combine the two after. Though..." His eyes wandered to and then quickly away from what he might politely attempt to call 'dancing', "I believe the point of segregating by gender is to prevent exactly this sort of incident."

If he had been more socially savvy he might have tried to take note of who was likely to no longer be on speaking terms with whom if the evening was remembered afterward. Perhaps Delia was up to that very thing, the thought was heartening.

A thought struck him,

"You don't imagine we'll be required at some Stag party for the pidge abomination, do you?"

Forgetting the question, gratefully, as the conversation turned back to concerns nearer Stefan's heart he turned enough to really look at his brother.

"You didn't imbibe at all during the trip. I had worried that you picked up some unknown and lingering illness from... that place. At least you're getting some caloric intake, I suppose." He toasted with his glass but it was too worried to really land. Listening to the speculation, similar to his own, he frowned; a sure sign he was thinking hard.

"In some species of fungus, it is only the initial puff of spores that is dangerous. If it was one such, I would have been protected by the time I was examining the sample. I will read up on those species and see what I can find." Reaching out he placed one hand warmly on his brother's shoulder, partly from fraternal affection, and partly because he knew Brenner's normal body temperature well enough to tell if he was feverish.

The observation brought him back into the present, which was not a relief, even from the worrying subject. He grimaced, finding it as difficult to look away from the degenerate scene as it was to watch.

"Ist sie nicht mit Lord Koch verlobt?" It had been intended as an actual question but it felt like gossip the moment it left his mouth, further irritating him, "Nein, antworte nicht. Besser weiß ich nicht."

Waving his hand to belay any answer he sighed and finished what was in his glass.

"I think I might want something stronger than this, would you care to join me?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner stared blankly at his brother for a long moment.

"...I am completely baffled that you've spent more years on this earth without knowing that the female counterpart to a Stag Do is a Hen Do." He said with an expression of utter (albeit play-acted) astonishment.

"I mean... I've been to the odd Stag Do that ended up in a brothel, but we didn't all make a go of it in the common area." Lest Stefan think the gender segregation suggested a lesser potential for debauchery.

Brenner considered the question.

"My first impulse was to say, 'Of course not! Stag events are meant for close friends, not foreign dignitaries!' but that wouldn't be the first nor the least perversion of my expectations Kalzasi has yielded over the years. It's possible, but... I rather think we'll be able to excuse ourselves from anything particularly jarring. They will have to understand that there are limits to our sense of moral relativism."

Brenner was indeed feverish, which might have been particularly surprising given his pallour. Typically when he had a fever he was flushed, but there was no sign of ruddiness colouring his sunken cheeks.

"Das stimmt." Brenner chuckled, nodding at the suggestion of a stiffer spirit and gesturing for Stefan to lead them to the bar.

"It should be interesting..." Brenner mused, as he sidled up beside Stefan. After a moment's pause, he realised he hadn't been clear in imparting the line of thought that led him to that statement. "The pidge wedding, I mean. If we are able to distance ourselves enough to look at it with scientific objectivity, it might impart an interesting lesson about their culture that could serve us in the future." He sighed contentedly as his grip closed around a tumbler of schnapps.

"Well, the ceremony at least. The reception promises to be pure pandemonium come the appointed hour." A sentiment worthy as any of being toasted, he thought, and so he raised his glass accordingly.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

"Yes, Brenner," He replied, with equally playful derision, "because I've been invited to ever so many ladies' pre-marital parties. As I am sure you have also."

He only made a humming sound at the suggestion of Stag parties ending up at brothels. He had rather assumed, and he was listening, but his eyes were beginning to unfocus as they tried to make sense of the 'dance' floor while also not imagining what an abomination Stag Do might look like.

Given both Brenner's pallor and fever, particularly when considering they were not in a particularly well-heated area, he used the hand to gently steer them both toward the inside bar. He would be able to remain aware of what was going on in the pavilion, but they would both be warmer. He would not be needed in his duties as host (So Eitan could concentrate on enjoying himself without interruption) unless an actual fight broke out, which, considering, wasn't altogether unlikely, so staying close seemed wise.

Ordering them each a double portion of their favorite schnapps he positioned them near a crackling brazier and took a sip as he listened.

"Interesting is one way to put it." He wasn't disagreeing, only steeling himself for what would be an altogether unpleasant trip to his imagination. The usefulness of both their plans and the scientific data he would be able to collect were worth it, however much he was beginning to enjoy his domestic life.

"I suppose we shouldn't bring firearms to the reception?" Bringing weapons would be suspicious, and theoretically, they would be the safest people in the room. The attackers would know they were friends and the host and his ilk would view them as guests. Putting thoughts of the reception away, before they made him anxious, he returned to an earlier comment.

"I intend to garner as much information as I can about their scientific abilities. They are holding a gathering for me to meet with their brightest minds, and, with any luck, I'll get an invitation to access their famed Archives."

After another swallow of the clear warm, clear liquid he said, abruptly,

"What do you think of her? Lucrece, I mean. Bit of a spitfire for my tastes, but, then, I suppose Eitan is as well. You know him better though, is it a good match?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner shrugged and shook his head with a good natured chuckle, swirling his tumbler as he sauntered over to an armchair and draped himself over it with one leg dangling over an armrest.

"I can't imagine we'll be permitted any manner of weaponry... If we aren't screened before entering the palace, Kalzasi is even more in need of Zaichaeri oversight than we realised." He observed with a snigger, "But I know my clever brother has wily ways to circumvent such concerns. We won't need aught that's deadly- Just a means of doling out a dose or two of your Meisterwerk." The laughter subsided into a smirk.

"Just remember, Brother..." Brenner began, sending Stefan's trepidation about the whole undertaking, "...whatever discomforts we will doubtless endure during our time in Kalzasi? It will all culminate into something salient for the glory of the Fatherland." He lifted his glass in salute and pursued the gesture with a sip.

"Wisely done. If we are able to strip them of their arcane advantage, it will be important to know how far their tech can take them. My sources seem to indicate that the two are so intertwined for them that it would be very difficult for them to function on the day-to-day, let alone wage a costly war against a tech-centred nation like ours. I expect they shall have the will to vie with us, but hopefully not the might."

At Stefan's question, Brenner's eyes darted out into the crowd to find its subject.

"She is not as stuffy as many children of the Old Guard. Marrying a mongrel bastard is testament enough to that, and that goes a long way for me. She doesn't look down on us and, I think, she recognises that the future will require adaptation from all echelons of our society..." He pursed his lips, "So I approve. And you?"

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The idea of being allowed into a Royal reception of any kind without being searched for weapons was ludicrous. Going to any government agency in Zaichaer entailed leaving any weaponry at the door. Attending any high-ranking member of said government entailed a rather invasive search unless one had prior clearance. Which, Stefan supposed, Brenner now seemed to have. It was a rather proud thought.

He nodded at the compliment, having already discussed several ways to get small arms past security even as stringent as that Zaichaer employed. A report had also been written, by his own hand, of what sort of dangers might be secreted on a person into areas where they might do great harm. If he found loopholes, there was no reason not to inform the State of them so they could shore up their defenses.

Nodding, Stefan took a long sip of his drink. Brenner was, as usual, correct; whatever hardships they endured during their trip were worth what would be gained. Lowering his voice he lifted his glass and clinked it against his brother's.

"To rendering the world a safer place." It was an innocent enough toast even if overheard, which seemed unlikely at that point in the evening.

The truth was that Stefan had filled the gap of personal study since returning from the Warrens with trying to learn as much as possible about Kalzasi's technology, with an emphasis on their airship technology. Without their ships, getting to Zaichaer to make an attack would be nearly impossible en masse.

Brenner's casual assessment of Eitan's heritage, while not inaccurate, felt out of place on the evening of the man's wedding day. Stefan did not comment on it, however, not wanting to cause any issues. Finishing his drink he motioned for the bartender to bring him another.

"Delia speaks well of her, as well." The two Angevin recommendations were enough for Stefan, at least, until he formed his own opinion, which would be imminent now that he was to share a roof with the woman. It was a bit difficult to think of her as a woman, but she was respectably married now and he would have to get used to it. His new drink arrived and he found himself trying to remember how much he'd had at the gala before arriving home. Feelings of warmth and comfort were beginning to settle in his limbs, but there was nothing wrong with that. Letting his eyes wander over his brother it was hard not to admire him, even pale and drawn as he was. It reminded Stefan of the year the majority of Brenner's growth had come on him. His body had gotten so lean as it stretched, no amount of feeding was enough to put weight back on him till he'd reached his present height. Realizing he'd been asked a question he said,

"I'm inclined to approve of her. If she makes Eitan happy and behaves properly I won't ask for more. Having a companion for Delia when both men of the house are so often away also seems a good idea. Speaking of which..."

Sitting up properly he leaned toward his brother and said, quietly,

"You are to be congratulated, Brother, you're to be an uncle."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner chuckled with an approving nod at Stefan's toast. It sounded like such a simple sentiment when packaged that way. He often forgot that, at the end of the day, though the means could become convoluted, the goal was simple: Safety, prosperity, equality. He clinked glasses with Stefan and tipped his back against his lips for a savouring taste.

"I trust Eitan's judgment." Brenner appended with a shrug as he placed his tumbler down on the table at his side. He hadn't vetted Lucrece in any real way. He'd known her socially for years, though she'd always been on the periphery for him and he for her. He had faith enough in Eitan to expect him to have exerted due diligence in the selection of the woman to whom he would be personally, professionally and politically aligned for the foreseeable future.

"If he is pleased with the arrangement, and it seems he is, then so am I." He nodded at the notion of the two wives entertaining one another, and his mind didn't quite catch the subsequent revelation straight away. At first he tilted his head and furrowed his brow, bemused at what he was being congratulated for. He hadn't done anything to become-... His eyes went wide.

"An uncle?!" The leg that had been draped, dropped to the floor as he sat bolt upright and turned his full body to face Stefan. "Then..." A broad smile spread across his visage- Heartfelt and enthusiastic, in the way it should have been when the elder brother had announced his nuptials to the younger. After a moment frozen in disbelief he rose and spread his arms.

"It is I who should be congratulating you! A new generation of Dornkirks! The world is not ready." Embracing Stefan firmly, he patted him on the back. "Do our parents know? Mother will be over the moon."