Bless My Homeland Forever [Ursula]

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Bless My Homeland Forever"
12 Glade, 122

To date, Brenner Dornkirk's entire relationship with Miss Ursula Fletcher had revolved around gardens. From their first rendezvous not so very long ago, to yesterday's salon and now at Dornkirk Manor, they made the most of Glade by spending their time together outdoors. Today offered new surroundings for Ursula, as she attended Brenner on his home turf for the first time.

When she arrived at the front door, the butler would greet her and conduct her inside and through the opulent halls of the lower floor out to the back where the professionally manicured gardens lay.

"His Excellency the First Minister awaits you atop the Gloriette." The butler gestured up to the hill that overlooked the grounds upon which stood an exquisitely appointed building with huge windows to offer a view of the manor and greater Zaichaer beyond. The sun would soon be setting, and the view promised to be as striking as the architecture of the gloriette itself.

Following the path uphill, Ursula would eventually see Brenner seated at a table that had been set up on the roof of the structure. He offered a smile and a wave, then gestured to a footman who was standing by who immediately set about to pouring sparkling wine into crystal flutes for the two of them. Another footman greeted Ursula downstairs, and led her into the gloriette and up the stairs to the railed in roof.

Brenner stood to be gentlemanly as she approached and moved to embrace her and offer a kiss to both cheeks, before brushing the footman aside to slide her chair out for her himself.

"Welcome." He gestured to the drink on the table before her, "A bit of refreshment to start?"

[Ursula Fletcher]

Freshly polish black shoes, for Brenner Dornkirk. A floral-print dress, for Brenner Dornkirk. A set of pearls, for Brenner Dornkirk. Again, the same.

Or, almost the same.

Where before she was ambivalent about being courted, he’d impressed her since. He was clever and possessed good humor, something she’d found most men to be lacking.

That blush, though. His eyes. It’d caught her off guard, momentarily, the way Brenner had looked at Myles. It wasn’t unheard of - and, in truth, it wasn’t something she found particularly worrisome. So long as the Commander provided her good company and saw to his familial duties, she wouldn’t ask about his friendships with other men.

And yet, she wondered about his other friendships throughout the carriage ride to Dornkirk Manor.

--

The house was, of course, impressive. Tastefully decorated. Mrs. Astor would be appalled at how well done up the house was - or, that Ursula considered it so. She’d greeted the butler, and then the footman, who led her up the stairs of the Gloriette.

“How absolutely marvelous,” she breathed between cheek kisses, taking a moment to appreciate the view. The grounds were considerably expansive, perhaps more so than Fletcher Manor. “And, of course, Commander - a refreshment, however bit, is always welcome,” she smiled, taking one of the crystal flutes.

“I am very happy to have the chance to see the Dornkirk gardens,” she said, looking out over the various collected flower gardens. It was stunning - it could be better, of course, but it was beautiful.

She took a quick sip of the sparkling wine.

“And to be drinking such delicious wine with you, Commander.” It was hardly forward, but it was better to be clear if it wasn’t already obvious. She enjoyed his company. “Might I ask the vintage? It is quite good.”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"I thank you." Brenner smiled warmly and turned his head to regard the gardens himself. "No match for your own, of course, but to my layman's eye it is quite the bastion of beauty. I shall miss it when I move into my official residence, but the State demands and I oblige." His smile wilted a bit. He'd spent most of his life based here, but Dornkirk Manor was built for splendour not for security and with the threats to his life that followed the incident in Kalzasi, it was not safe to remain.

Rumour had it, there was rather a massive bounty on his head- dead or alive, and the last thing he wanted was for his parents to be dragged into it. It was bad enough that Stefan had a separate bounty on his own head, but they would all be in different dwelling places ere long and Brenner would make sure an ample security detail was placed here at the manor in case anyone sought to visit retribution against the parents for the sins of the sons. If you could even call their iconoclastic heroism a 'sin'.

"It is a sparkling grüner from a vineyard outside the village of Grauschweig in the North of our territory..." He explained, lifting his glass and holding it up in the waning sunlight to inspect the pale, almost clear, colour. "This is the 115. Probably their best year. It's a relatively new vineyard, you understand." Grauschweig had always been known as a factory and mining town until a recent industrious soul bought some land there to embark on this new venture.

"Might I interest you in some hors d'oeuvres as well?" He glanced over his shoulder and snapped his fingers, causing the footman to step to attention and fetch a tray of assorted cured meats, cheeses, olives and crostini.

[Ursula Fletcher]

“It is beautiful,” she said, “To any eye, I’m sure.”

The gardens were obviously well-cared for if a bit overgrown. She’d known a few houses that preferred a more natural garden, one less curated.

Ursula had experimented with a more free garden, along the west side of the house. Wild roses and other such things crept and build over themselves. In the end, the garden had been a bit too much to handle. It’d sprawled over the lawn and along the house, growing over windows entirely.

She caught the wilt in his smile and offered a stronger one in return.

“It is…a strange thing, isn’t it, leaving. I think about it, too. I’ve spent the whole of my life at Fletcher House,” she took a piece of crostini smeared with what looked to be some sort of soft cheese. “You might imagine how many hours I’ve spent caring for those gardens. And yet -,” she shrugged, sighing.

“I know I won’t be living there the whole of my life.”

Marriage. Regardless to whom, she’d be expected to marry - and soon. Twenty-five was hardly old, but it wasn’t young. And, when she did marry, she’d be expected to leave. Her eldest brother would inherit Fletcher House, her gardens.

There was an order to those things, an order where she stood at the bottom.

“New or not, the wine is splendid,” she took another sip, “I understand the importance of legacy - but some people are terribly afraid of new things. Of change. I hope I am not one of them.”

She ate an olive, already pitted, thankfully - pits were so difficult to navigate with any grace. “Might I ask you a more personal question, Commander Dornkirk?”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"On behalf of the landscapers in our employ, I thank you." Brenner offered with a chuckle. He let her make the first foray into the charcuterie, but followed up moments later by spreading a bit of pate onto one of the crostini. He bit it in half, nodding as she grew wistful.

"I try to be excited for the new, rather than dwelling overmuch on my own nostalgia. Our memories remain, and we'll have new gardens to tend. Just think... You inherited the lot you currently curate, but one day you'll be able to design your very own- Even if that just means creating a replica of that which is familiar, though I am more keen to improve upon my current situation." Her mention of the wine seemed to remind him it was there, and he took the glass by the stem to draw it to his lips for a savouring taste. He chuckled,

"Well, at the very least you know your audience and, perhaps, the shifting of the Zaichaeri Zeitgeist, hm?" Change was very much in the air. The new Grand Marshal had fired shots across the bow of the aristocracy and compounded the matter by lauding the Dornkirk family specifically and raising its two salient sons to positions of prominence in the new regime. It was a clever move, and one which Brenner had often predicted might come to pass. He might have pressed the matter himself in a few years, but Kelgarde had beaten him to the punch. Like Brenner, she seemed to recognise that the future relied heavily upon the proletariat. They outnumbered the gentlefolk vastly, and coveted the concept of upward mobility that the Dornkirks represented. As old, important families were reduced to ruin, she would still have the numbers in her favour as long as she appealed to the proletarian majority.

He arched an eyebrow and nodded,

"Of course. Please." He gestured for her to proceed.

[Ursula Fletcher]

Ursula smiled, “I like that you seek improvement, Commander Dornkirk.”

Many of the older families clung so desperately to their histories. They told the same stories again and again, ever wistful. It felt like they had no care for the future. They wallowed in the past, pretending their gilded age hadn’t ended long ago.

The House of Fletcher was storied but they’d always looked ahead. Planned. Her father’s marriage to her mother was controversial, at the time.

A family with blood as blue as the sky marrying into a name carried only by gold.

“I wonder if you’ve noticed the fault I’ve seen in many of the supposed aristocracy of Zaichaer,” she says, between sips of wine. “They don’t believe they can improve. That, somehow, they already exist in some state of perfection.” She shrugs, eating another olive. Tradition was important, she valued it, but there was something to be said about becoming too stale. Innovation offered all sorts of exciting prospects.

There was, she believed, always room for improvement. Perfection was a journey, not a single place. The impossible goal to strive for, endlessly.

“I find myself wondering what your aspirations are, Commander Dornkirk,” she asks, looking at him.

Ursula would admit Brenner was handsome. He was, presently, in quite the enviable position. First Minister of the State. A Hero who defended a prince. He had many things in his favor. Wealth and status were enough to sure he might find many a match within Zaichaer society.

But things could change so quickly. She knew her family’s history. Fortune might favor the bold, but it always favored the prepared. Ursula wouldn’t tie herself to a rising star only to see it fall.

“You already accomplished so much,” she says, “And - I wonder what you might be considering next, in the long-term. What does the man who has, seemingly, everything dream of?”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Evolution was the dogma by which my brother and I were raised." Brenner mused, "Since our father came up out of the factory floors of the Grungeworks, he learned the pivotal importance of adaptation. The ability to be malleable is what enabled him to highlight the talents that garnered attention from his betters, and later to move amongst their circles as he fostered puissance of his own." He sounded proud of his father's rise. Others in his lot might have downplayed the obscurity of his background and the hardships Melchior Dornkirk brooked to reach his current station, but not Brenner. The Dornkirk background was no secret in Zaichaeri society and he'd found it better served him to highlight the unlikeliness of their rise rather than dismiss it.

"Old families feel as though their blood is special because of the deeds of some distant forefather. For me, it is simply a far closer relation who displayed the potency of his blood through hard work and ingenuity- Rising against the odds." He smiled faintly,

"I know that you are, like me, a child of two worlds. I take comfort in that. It displays a marked resilience to the Fletcher patriarch that many of the Old Guard lack." He sipped his grüner.

"My foremost aspirations, Miss Fletcher, are for our Fatherland. My own ambitions are secondary to those goals." He prefaced his response with that, "But the State is kind to those who sacrifice for its betterment, as my current position suggests." He placed his flute down on the table and took a deep breath as he turned his gaze out toward the gardens, the manor and the greater city beyond.

"I am half-Gelerian, and that influences my worldview. I believe the North is vulnerable. Our cultures are too divided and it is only a matter of time before a larger power consumes our city-states one by one, unless we unite. The only power in Karnor capable of maintaining Order and managing so large a territory is clearly Zaichaer. I am, at the end of the day, an Imperialist. I believe in Imperial Karnor under the watchful eye of a Zaichaeri capital." His eyes turned back to her, and they were soft as a spring afternoon.

"But to the meat of your question, I would like to be a leader in such an empire. I am fully behind Her Esteemed Excellency the Grand Marshal, long may she reign, but long is not forever. As First Minister I am her natural successor, and I would not shirk that lot... But if my imperial dreams come to fruition, I would also be perfectly pleased to govern a province. Many of our wayward neighbours will require a great deal of attentive care if they are to learn the true meaning of liberty in the North."

[Ursula Fletcher]

Ursula wasn’t especially familiar with the Gelerian Imperium. She knew that the Carter Shipping Company had a modest factory in the Imperial City. Her mother enjoyed the capital and, when Ursula had been younger, would often risk her away for a week or two of shopping. She remembered vaguely, something they called the Relay, which she’d found curious.

Not something she’d want in a home of hers, but curious all the same.

There’d been whispers in her house, and others she was sure, regarding the Grand Marshal. Her father and brothers suspected an imperialistic lean to the new government. Nobody was entirely sure what to expect, but that was supposedly the norm for coups.

And now, she wondered, how closely the ambitions of the Grand Marshal paralleled the First Minister's.

“I’ve enjoyed the little time I’ve spent in Gel’Grandal,” she said, neatly snacking on a cracker.

The Gelerian Imperium, was if anything, united. Things were easier there, or that’s what she’d heard from her uncle. Some time ago he’d even considered moving the shipping company’s headquarters to the Imperium. The board had decided against it, in the end.

“I find myself inspired by your patriotism, Commander Dornkirk,” Ursula said after a few moments of thought. “I - well, it is hardly a secret that my family values service. My father and my brothers have dedicated their lives to the military.” And, if she were to have sons, her father would expect them to do the same. Regardless of her thoughts on the issue, the Fletcher men served.

“And, while I…hadn’t the opportunity to serve in the same capacity, I like to think I show my loyalty through philanthropic efforts. I would very much like to leave this world a better place than I found it.”

She hummed, taking another sip from her glass. The gardens here were, if different from her own, beautiful. “I am glad to hear of your desire to serve, to lead. While I do not know you as well as I might, I do think you would excel in any position you find yourself in - I am sure the Grand Marshal sees that.”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Oh, have you been?" Brenner's posture straightened a bit at the mention of Gel'Grandal as if his Gelerian mother had just reminded him to sit up straight. "I'm afraid I've never had the opportunity, myself, though I was raised rather immersed in the culture. As children, Father spoke to us in Common and Mutti spoke in Kathalan, so we're fluent in both." He took up a spreading knife and scooped a bit of brie onto a crostini, topping that off with an apricot jam before biting it in half and washing it down with sparkling wine.

"I am pleased to hear my fervour hasn't put you off." He grinned, "I am well aware that stridency isn't everyone's cup of tea, but when the cause is righteous I see nothing wrong with a bit of zealotry. In a world as rife with injustice as ours, it is only natural for hearts to wax fiery in opposition to the blights that afflict us." He nodded at her mention of the military leanings of her family.

"My brother and I both served as well. I would say the most difficult part of assuming my current position was letting my service to the Air Defence Corps lapse. Especially in a time of turmoil such as this..." He trailed off and glanced to the North. Dornkirk Manor was West facing and thus so was the gloriette upon which they were situated, so he was facing his right and looking to the sky. He dreaded the day when that same sky might be swarming with avenging Avialae come to bring their perverted concept of justice to Zaichaer. It was his duty to see that day would never come.

"Philanthropy is important, too. We must nourish our cultural pursuits. Without those, what are we even fighting for?" He trailed off and tipped his head in a slight nod.

"And what of you? You tend gardens, you dance, you are a patroness... But what are your passions? What are your ambitions for your future beyond the pastimes we've already broached."

[Ursula Fletcher]

“I have,” she answered, “When I was younger. I haven’t had the opportunity to travel in quite some time.”

Her parents had decided that marriage should be her only priority - that, and whatever social obligations her mother decided suited her. She hadn’t enjoyed a vacation for years. There’d always been something: a gala, a dinner, some suitor to attend to. Ursula fought desperately, at least, for time to manage the garden.

She’d won that, in the end.

“No - I would never hope that someone might be unfeeling regarding injustice,” she said, “I am happy that you feel so strongly.”

There were concerns, obviously. He might be too brazen, but that was often the case with men. Still, the Grand Marshal thought well enough of the Dornkirks she’d named both their sons to powerful positions. And - her father had been clear in that the family would be supporting the Grand Marshal. And so, she hoped, whatever concerns she might be feeling could be dismissed.

She smiled, “I agree. I just feel so strongly that I might make a positive difference. Philanthropy is a way to express that hope, perhaps.” She wondered sometimes if it was the only way. Certainly, it was the only way she’d ever learned to be helpful.

“I -,” she hesitated, considering Brenner for a moment. Her mother would kill her for going off-script.

But he’d trusted her, hadn’t he? He’d been, as far as she could tell, completely honest with her.

“I would like a family. Children,” she said, “Perhaps even one of them might take an interest in gardening.” She took a sip of the champagne, willing her tongue to loosen.

“...but, I suppose I have always…wished to be of more use to this city - to the region,” she blushed, slightly, as if she’d said something vulgar. Men, she’d be told, didn’t wish for ambitious women.

“Perhaps it isn’t appropriate, but I find myself interested in city planning. Developing more parks and natural areas for people to enjoy. Places where people can seek reprieve, from the business of their lives.”