Something Special for Our Guests [Brenner, Stefan]

[Aurin]

The Golden Peacock Theater, Kalzasi
73rd of Frost, Year 121 Steel

The performance of Tristian and Yseult was certainly something.

At first, Elric Hansom, artistic director of the theater, had been opposed to scheduling any performance of something often seen to glorify the philosophies of Zaichaer and the Gelerian Imperium, but Aurin had been working on a flow of information out of those places and was focusing on the Pfenning Theater in Zaichaer. When he heard dignitaries from the High City would be invited to the wedding of the Shinsei, he had been motivated and done his homework. There were readings of this opera that said it ultimately opposed those philosophies. The theater's mission statement said part of its purpose was didactic and so giving Kalzasern audiences an opposing view was not outside that purview. He got Lord Yserloo Choi's buy in when the angel investor realized—with Aurin's subtle help—that he could parlay this into social capital with foreign dignitaries.

And so here they were. The three of them and a few hand-selected Kalzasern dignitaries to mingle with any of the Zaichaeri delegation who had opted to accept the box seats afforded to them. Soon enough, a few of the stars would come in to meet their guests. For now, Aurin had the bartender pour him a whiskey neat, and he leaned his elbow against the bar to observe. Yserloo would likely monopolize their guests, but Aurin would wait for an opportunity to make what acquaintances he could and mine them for what intelligence he could.

"It was actually Master Kavafis' idea," he heard Yserloo saying. The man knew when to spread the glory around to appear more magnanimous.

"He claims to only understand numbers and figures," Elric agreed, "but I think we've made a theater fiend of him."

When Aurin looked up and found foreign eyes upon him, he feigned embarrassment and offered, "Ah, well... Gelerian schnapps?"

Then he turned to the bartender and said in a low voice, "Shots for the lot of them."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

“It was refreshing to see such a traditional staging.” Brenner noted, as he fidgeted with the cuff links on his uniform. He was looking well again after his affliction came to a head under Lyra’s watchful eye. Though at first she didn’t seem to know what was going on with him, she had studied and learned enough to guide him through the final throes of the condition. By the next day, his colouring had returned and if his ravenous appetite was any sign, he’d soon regain the meat that had been dwindling from his bones these past few months.

Still he’d needed to visit the tailor in advance of this trip to take in the various uniforms that served as his wardrobe for this trip. For the Fatherland he made a point of standing out from the effeminate, flowy garb favoured by the pidges and their peons. He was certain there was plenty of misleading propaganda polluting the minds of Kalzasi’s citizens and that his every interaction would be an education for them. He would need to be a paragon of Zaichaeri culture- Sharp of dress and of wit, and ever cautious with his framing and phrasing, lest he verify their negative assumptions.

“The last few productions I saw in Zaichaer were- What would you call them, Stefan?… I suppose you could dub them experimental. Always setting a classic story in some anachronistic time or nonsensical place.” He wrinkled his nose in disapproval.

“I’m passing pleased to see your company elected to leave well enough alone.” He inclined his head to the ginger human who’d been addressed as Master…

“Kavafis?” Brenner repeated the exotic-sounding surname for clarification. “I can’t place the origins of that name. From whither hail you, sir?” He nodded in stern approval of the offered schnapps and gladly quit toying with his sleeves in favour of a preferable pastime.

“Prost.” He half muttered before downing the shot and sliding it back to the barman, in case they were feeling generous enough to keep them coming.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan had a quietly held enjoyment of the theatre, spending time there whenever he was able to both remember, and make time. One of the joys of marriage was that he had an excuse, and someone who wanted to go with him regularly.

It was rather obvious that the production the brother's Dornkirk had been invited to had been staged to appeal to their tastes, but it had been good, for what it was. A more traditional telling, which also appealed to him personally. Brenner was right, the ways modern theatre directors felt they had to change something to make it good for a new audience, or worth watching to those who had already seen the original, often fell flat.

"Indeed." He concurred, " 'Modern' interpretations." The word was not a compliment in this context, though, of course, it would have been for Stefan in many others.

Taking the offered drink he took it down with his brother, in sync almost. Then, eyeing the tumbler before Master Kavafis, asked if there was a preferred drink in Kalzasi that he should try during his visit. Trying to local alcohol was one pleasure that the elder Dornkirk was not worried about. Even studying with other scholars had been a dance of pretend that he was not particularly well suited for. However genuinely he wanted to learn, he must conceal, deflect, give half answers to lie outright when he was asked certain questions. Questions about the topics he was most capable of discussing were the ones he had to avoid the most stringently while acting as though he were being the most open. It was exhausting, and the marathon still had the big finally it was building up to that he must save energy and concentration for. It could not fail. He could not fail.

But tonight, he could drink, and discuss the opera, and worry a little less.

[Aurin]

"Ah, well..." Aurin took his shot with the practiced ease of a habitual drinker. Elric managed to get his down, but coughed a bit. Yserloo closed his eyes and thought of Kalzasi or whatever it was the winged wonders did when they thought they were doing something heroic. "Prost. I will admit that I combed the repertory for stories that might build a bridge between us rather than a wall, but Master Hansom is the artist and Lord Choi ensures that the powers that be look kindly upon us.

"I don't actually know the provenance of my name. I was born in the south somewhere, but my parents were often on the move. And then I was on my own and found my way north. I suppose the lack of connection to my own roots—wherever they found purchase—gives me an interest in those who have a strong connection in their own.

In reality, he had put some pressure on Hansom to make the production more traditional, but he didn't rub it in that his suggestion had found such favor. Aurin did his best to be a team player, or at least seem like one. By now, he could manipulate his co-directors into doing what he wanted for the most part. Aurin gestured and the bartender poured another schnapps for Brenner and another tumbler of what he had been drinking previously for Stefan. Aurin handed both Zaichaeri men their drinks.

"Another schnapps for Commander Dornkirk, and a Blue Star eighteen-year for Mister Dornkirk." He picked up his drink and raised his glass more casually so they could drink at their leisure. "The whiskey is from a remote fiefdom in the mountains. A friend went traveling up there a couple of seasons ago and brought me a bottle. Now it's my current go-to."

If Stefan took its scent first, he would get waves of spice that gave way to vanilla and honey. The taste was more caramel, hazelnut, and dark chocolate. It had a luxuriously long, warm, and smoky finish, perfect for Frost.

To Brenner, he said, "I have met some performers from your Pfenning Theater and while they are patriotically supportive of the talent in Zaichaer, they have diplomatically expressed similar frustrations to yours. Perhaps if you were more vocal at home, your voice would be heard. Master Hansom does cleave to his artistic integrity, but does not ignore the desires of his audience. Thankfully, he's a nimble tightrope walker."

The artistic director seemed mollified by Aurin's praise and mumbled thanks into his clear spirit.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"How thoughtful of you." Brenner acknowledged as his eyes roamed Aurin's form down and up again appraisingly. "You must be quite the forward thinker to have had everything prepared in time for us to enjoy it..." The compliment was punctuated by a sip of the freshly poured schnapps. He didn't down it in one go, this time, but seemed to just let the tiniest splash warm the tip of his tongue.

"Interesting." The Air Commander considered the nebulous background information, "And you ended up here in Kalzasi." It wasn't posed as a question, though there might have been something probing in it. He could better understand the plight of a human native of Kalzasi... One who'd never known what it was to live free from arcane oppression under the thumb of a pidge polity. The idea of a more worldly Man choosing to make a home of this vile place was more alien a notion to him.

"You seem to have done well for yourself, at any rate." The cut of his suit was sharp and his theatre was state-of-the-art, but still that didn't quite sound like a compliment- delivered as it was through a wan sneer. It turned into a warm smile when Aurin suggested he dabble in critiquing the arts.

"Alas, Mr. Kavafis, I freely admit that I am little more than a dilettante when it comes to the performing arts. I am an appréciateur of the finer things, but I would feel quite out of my depth attempting to sway the winds of culture in this direction or that." His eyes fell on Elric for a brief moment, then Yserloo before returning to the more agreeable sight of Aurin.

"Do you have anything else playing that we oughtn't miss whilst we're in town?"

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan accepted the offered drink with genuine appreciation, though it only came out in the form of a brief nod of thanks. He took more of a taste than Brenner did of his libations, wanting to get the full flavor and mouthfeel of the foreign liqueur.

The initial sensation was that of sweetness, then, tempered by the alcohol, there came hints of nuttiness with a slightly bitter end. It made Stefan think of a bright Frost day dipping down into a long, cold night spent comfortably by a crackling hearth. He nodded again when he noticed Master Kavafis watching his reaction.

"Excellent. Your friend has good taste, you will have to give me the name." Whether he could find the whiskey in Zaichaer or not, there was little he could not have imported if he wanted it, and, if the clandestine plans the brothers held for Kalzasi came to fruition, it might not be a foreign import in years to come.

As the conversation moved on, Stefan was of a similar mind to his brother, though neither said anything to imply what they were thinking. Why would a human choose to live in a place where he had no say over those that ruled him, and knew that no one representative of himself would ever hold high office?

Looking over the man appraisingly, Stefan wondered if he might not make a good inside ally. Brenner and Eitan had always been better at gauging the subtler things, but, might not such a man be as useful to them as they intended to be useful to him. Not him specifically, but to the freedom of men like him all through the region.

The suggestion that Brenner inform the arts was a good one, though, if the redhead had known the brothers, he might have suggested it to the elder instead of the younger. Stefan donated to many theatrical companies and houses, musical and otherwise, and had standing box seats in most of them. His life of late had not allowed him the leisure to take much advantage of his position as a financial contributor, but he still held a place in his heart for the performing arts.

[Aurin]

"Perhaps someday there will be an opening at the Pfenning Theater," he said with an almost wistful smile. He supposed that at some point, he would be talented enough with his tricks that nobody could pierce his illusions or see the runes he didn't want them to see, or Torin might figure out some artifact that could accomplish it for him. Zaichaer seemed a dangerous place for those not born to the privileged elite, but dangerous places could often yield passing lucrative dividends.

"And you oughtn't to downplay your tastes, sir," he said. "If mine can help Master Hansom make creative decisions, surely yours could as well."

He nodded and smiled to the elder Dornkirk, who seemed to be an appréciateur of dark liquors.

"I will have a bottle sent to you, sir." In fact, he would have a case sent. Favors were often more valuable than gold. The Avialae made a polite excuse and went to schmooze with someone else; he had, perhaps, overestimated his ability to truck with the Zaichaeri. His nobility did not seem to impress them when all they could see were his wings and his stature. Hansom looked after him, then back.

"Master Hansom coordinates with the Academy, as well. I believe they are offering up some Zaichaeri orchestral works at the Pyrecaeon, though I haven't personally been to listen to their rehearsals."

"Oh yes," the other man agreed, brightening somewhat. "It is a learning experience for the students and for the community. And you really must let your opinions be known to your own artistic community, Commander Dornkirk. We want our work to be a conversation with our audiences."

Aurin smiled when his opinion was seconded, then looked from the more loquacious brother—had Brenner been checking him out?—to the more quiet one, not to force him to speak, but to make sure he wasn't uncomfortable in the social setting.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"A gentleman with a keen mind for populist trends would be a welcome addition to the Pfenning, I'm sure." Brenner placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, "But Stefan can speak more to that. Whilst my work has often taken me abroad of the West End of Zaichaer, Stefan's keeps him at the heart of our great Fatherland so he has been more attentive to the arts. He's something of a philanthropist." He squeezed the shoulder casting a proud, encouraging smile to his taller, broader brother.

He watched the posh pidge patter off his eyes lingering a moment after Aurin next addressed him.

"Hm?" He smiled slightly, "Oh. Well, it may surprise you to know that I'm interested in non-Zaichaeri entertainment. It is a strange thing to be a foreign delegate." He opened his posture to include Hansom as well as Kavafis.

"You leave your homeland only to be treated to foreign interpretations of your own cuisine, music, theatre... It is a generous tribute, of course, but in point of fact I am more intrigued by the local fare. We came here as much to learn about Kalzasern culture as to represent Zaichaer's." He took a light sip of his drink,

"I am intrigued by it all." His eyes rose to regard the decor surrounding them, "I can see how the bright colours and flowing garments... The exoticism of it all can be quite seductive." He cast a sidelong glance to his brother, with an impish glint that would allay any fears that Brenner might be amongst those seduced. No, he was being diplomatic. He took another sip, and cleared his throat before changing the subject.

"And how do you gentlemen find life under a dynastic monarchy? It's been ages since Zaichaer cast off-..." Realising he was about to sound very impolitic if he completed that sentence as it first formed, he adjusted: "...that particular form of governance."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Mainly, Stefan kept quiet, sipped his excellent drink, and listened to the conversation. Enjoying watching Brenner shine and be recognized for his wit, charm, and intelligence was a pastime the elder Dornkirk had been partaking in since they'd been young children. Even when it had been the attention of their own parents that his sibling was absorbing away from him, Stefan preferred it.

Brenner's limelight was never excluding to him, as the hand on his shoulder showed, but Stefan was better at listening and filing everything away for later. He made a self-deprecating gesture at the suggestion that he was either a man of the arts or a philanthropist, though both were true. He considered himself a patron, not an artist. Kavafis might appreciate him for his financial contributions but the other two men shouldn't get the idea that his appreciation was more than personal.

His attention became more pointed, though he let his eyes wander over the lavish surroundings as his ears perked. Taking the pulse of the populous about their oppressors was vital to understanding how the aftermath of a war might play out. If the people had the wool pulled over their eyes to the extent that they thought themselves happy under the dictators, things might go poorly. Rebellions were not unknown in pockets around Zaicaher, but the State had gotten good at repressing them.

Stefan would rather the people greet their liberators as just that, but imagining that all the common folk of Kalzasi would view a Zaichaeri invasion that way was foolishness. Gauging the level of resistance in the aftermath could mean the difference between prosperity and anarchy in the years that followed.

From what he had seen of the city thus far, Stefan would not mind being part of the governing team the State sent to sort out the newest province under its leadership. Even having a modest home in this city might be pleasant once it was free. Zaichaer was home, would always be home, but the people he'd met in Kalzasi deserved fair and honest governance. Aiding in it seemed a noble thing, in Stefan's mind. Little dreams of what Delia might think of being a diplomat's wife for a time brought a smile to his face, let the gentlemen think of it what they would.

[Aurin]

"Philanthropy does help the arts thrive," he agreed with a judicious sip of his whiskey. He glanced at Mr. Dornkirk, thinking that perhaps he might secure some sort of investment if the man made a habit of visiting Kalzasi; that would be a bit of a coup as it seemed unlikely Yserloo could manage it what with his wings and all. But he wanted information more than he wanted money for the theater and a feather in his cap.

Aurin laughed.

"I suppose the Velvet Cabaret next door would be our more exotic sister," he ventured. "Their menu includes things from as far away as Tertium and Gel'Grandal." Kalzasi was certainly different from the streets of Cathena City, but then, on some level, every city was the same in his eyes. "But I suppose you might have to flee your hosts if you want to see more of Kalzasi. 'Tis a strange place, I suppose. The Avialae rule and call it protection. They do protect us from the Dread Mists, from whatever might wander up from the Warrens, from whatever else threatens us. There are those who would prefer to have a seat at the table, or the opportunity to wear the Shokaze's crown. Those who aren't Avialae."

His smile was urbane; he said some people rather than we, but it was clear he wasn't a blind worshipper of the winged men.

"But thirteen Shokazes into this experiment and most people haven't traveled far enough to see other options. They would consider other options to be wrong merely because they aren't tradition. Some seek to work within the system to improve it; others likely want to bring it down. I've heard whispers of a Mad King gathering forces below the Midden. They could mean Jacien Novalys, either as a martyr or a force of vengeance." He paused. "I truly don't know what the Mad King rumors portend, but I wouldn't say the populace is of one mind about anything."