Flight of the Nachtherr

[Stefan Dornkirk]

No word had been had of either his parents, nor his brother. In the weeks since the rift had opened and the city of his birth had been torn apart he had, at first, hoped, and then feared, and as the familial silence extended, a part of Stefan went silent too. Left unknowing, not willing to step past what was missing, or grieve for it, only hold on, in stillness, like a breath unable to escape. Now came the day when, more than likely, his answers would be found and he found himself reluctant. One might imagine, if one had the chance to know the fate of one's family, it would be a good thing, one way or another. But for Stefan, it almost felt as of not knowing was better, that he could just bury the fraught complication that was his blood and never have to face it or its loss.

Now he was aboard the Nachtherr, Eitan having arrived at the Windworks after extending his recovery at White Knight Hall, with his Dienerin at the helm. Stefan had directed the loading of the two armor suits that they would debut in a real world setting for the first time in an exploration of whatever was left of Dornkirk Manor. Unless there was no trace to be found, Stefan suspected he would receive answers he did want, one way or the other when they arrived at their destination.

As they flew he stepped close to his brother-in-law and said, quietly,

"Eitan, I..." Pausing he cleared his throat, tried to find words for things that were too big to fit into anything so mundane as conversation. He glanced down and then back up at Eitan's face, hoping it would understand when he finished with, "Never mind, it will wait."

It was a comfort, having him there, a solid representation that not all was lost, that not everyone he considered family had disappeared. Stefan had a wife, and a daughter now, he would be an uncle soon. There were reasons to keep himself steady, to keep moving on.

Soon they were climbing into the suits, now reinforced by the Negation magic of the Order mages who had been left at the Windworks, strapping in and flexing their limbs withing the metal casings to warm them up. When the hatch was opened and they stepped out it was immediately obvious that the Manor had been struck during the initial storm that had literally torn the city apart. The whole front entrance, and a quarter of the building to each side was collapsed in a pile of rubble. Stefan took a slow breath through his nose and made himself step out of the way so Eitan could follow him across the broke street to where the once intricate iron gate was now nothing but twisted metal pushed aside by some surge of energy. As he stepped closer he saw that, where the steps leading to the door had once been was something other than stone and mortar, more than one something. Curiosity was quicker than sense and he was bending onto one knee to get close enough to inspect what he was seeing before he thought better of it.

It took a long moment before he could process what his eyes were seeing, even when he concentrated his mind refused to put together the information. It was the compass that finally snapped him into understanding. Beside a set of long, oddly intricate, interconnected bronze tubes was the gift he'd given Brenner on his last birthday. The metal was scorched him the piece, magically enhanced to survive combat, seemed to be intact. Glancing around he found, on the other side of the half-buried bronze construction, a lighter, also fine, that he knew had been Eitan's gift for the same event. Looking up at the other things he couldn't understand he noticed a bit of metal that had obviously once been a necklace that he recognized as his mother's.

Bile rose in his throat so fast he smelled it before he felt it burning as he recoiled back a half-dozen steps into the street. He didn't remember falling, and it didn't hurt, since he was in his armor, but he sat there, on his ass, blinking and trying to think past the ringing in his head so loud it seemed like someone had rung his helmet like a bell.

[Eitan Angevin]

"I know," he said quietly, giving Stefan's arm a bracing squeeze. But they were the ones everyone was looking to now, and so they would wait until later to work through whatever emotional fallout was to come. As time was of the essence, Dienerin helped him into his mechanical armor. He was trying not to be critical of the wards that had been placed upon it just because they weren't his. He had directed and overseen the warders doing the work while he was still forbidden from exercising his own power.

Eitan knew they were right and he needed to recover. He still got headaches, and was still generally exhausted no matter how much time he slept. But strength had returned and the armor would do much of the work. He had practiced moving in it, but this was the first big field test; it was a shame that it would be so fraught, but this was the world they lived in now.

To his mind, Brenner had died at the Presidium, and unless their parents had been somewhere safe, they were dead. The fact that they hadn't made it to the Windworks since the destruction began told him all he needed to know. All the same, it felt good to step out onto the rough, ruined terrain. He would test himself and the armor against it, which would be more difficult than the flat expanses of the Windworks hangars. If he felt invincible, at least he could say it was the armor and not his traumatic overstepping. Beeman was aboard the Nachtherr, too, just to ensure he didn't go off the deep end today.

Though he was the more seasoned soldier, he let Stefan take the lead. These were his inventions, and this was his home. Melchior and Sylana had never been beloved of Eitan, though he hoped they didn't suffer as they had given him his two best friends in the world.

Where Stefan acted, Eitan paused to assess. Among the wreckage, clues. Among the wreckage, human remains.

And then Stefan was recoiling, and fell.

"Stef. Breathe. I will handle this."

Eitan returned to the dead, collecting relics—gifts and valuables that had weathered the storm. He supposed it would be easiest to bury them here, using the suits' strength to overturn things into a carin to keep the monsters from what was left of them, gnawed bones and bits of fine fabric gone to waste. His eyes stung seeing the lighter he had given to Brenner for his birthday on the first day of their great expedition. For some reason, he had been here. His were among the bones and decay.

But he was a soldier. He would do the work now and grieve later.

Something strange caught his attention then, metal, covered in dirt and scorch marks. It almost looked like it was reaching for him. He took hold and pulled. What emerged had his mind reeling.

"Stef...?"

From the shallow grave, he had pulled forth a metallic skeleton.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan was trying to do just that, trying to fill his lungs past the closed off hollow that had once been his throat. The part of him that had been quietly insisting he not step out of the ship, not investigate, not even consider what fate might have befallen his parents and sibling had began to howl, a banshee wail that just went on and on as though all the air he wasn't breathing was being funneled into it.

It was Eitan's confused tone that made him blink and, for a moment, forget that he couldn't breathe long enough to do so. His eyes hurt, like all the tears he couldn't cry were building up behind them, but he made himself stand up and move, over to his companion. Good soldier. That's what his father had always told him to be, a good soldier.

It was now quite obvious that the remains of his parents were what his mind had been desperately trying not to acknowledge, but his eyes barely grazed the two sets of bones before alighting on what Eitan held in the metal hand of the armor. Swallowing Stefan took another breath and tried to assess the oddity of what looked like nothing so much as a metal skeleton, holding itself together. Now that his emotions were off and his logic was operating he realized it was the body that had been lying with the compass and lighter beside it. His eyes went immediately to the left leg and, sure enough...

"It's Brenner," He said, loudly enough that it would be heard through the helmet, "He broke his left tibia when he was about six, there, you can still see where it healed."

Even though there was no explanation for the state of the bones, the thin scar line was clearly visible on the large lower leg bone. Perhaps something had happened when the Presidium fell, perhaps it was something of the Rift. No similar incidents had been reported, but, so far, no one had ventured anywhere near the main government buildings. It was too dangerous with the Rift still ripping apart anything in the vicinity. Perhaps, when Eitan was fully mended, with the armor...

But that was a plan for another day. He still needed his notes and equipment, if they survived. There was hope they might have, as his home office and lab were underground. Taking a step back, again, he assesses the structural soundness of the Manor. The front, entrance hall, and everything on the front side of the house was likey not sound. But the back half appeared to be alright. There would be no knowing for sure without a closer inspection so he gestured to Eitan.

"I am going around the back to see if I can gain entrance. You know the layout of the house, if possible I'll get to my room and... Brenner's. They are in the back, away from the sounds of the street. Put him in the Nachtherr, please. I want to know, what happened."

While the explanations that the storms or the mists were the cause of the oddity, Stefan didn't believe them. This was something else, something older. Something to do with Kalzasi or the witch Brenner had taken as lover. Stefan should have done something, should have realized, right away, that of course his brother would never bed a witch. Would never take her home. She had ensorceled, foul magic manipulating the mind and the emotions. There was a reason such things were punished by public burning in Zaichaer. Why hadn't he seen?

There had been the shock. Looking back he could see that he'd been in shock after returning home from cursed Kalzasi, but, had he been under the witch's magic as well? He would ask Beeman to check him for such things as soon as they got back to the Windworks. Eitan too, for good measure, and both their manservants. If Lyra had not died in the destruction of the city, and he wouldn't believe she had unless he saw the body and had a member of the Order confirm it, she would pay for what she had done.

As he made his way careful around the back of his childhood home and found the main back entrance door blown off its hinges, but the opening itself intact, his mind whirred. What else might a powerful Kalzasi witch have done while in his city? The entrance was wide enough that he barely had to duck to enter. He'd never noticed the height of the ceilings of the Manor specifically, but now he was grateful for his father's insistence on ostentation. He could walk through the main halls without stooping even at the armor's twelve foot height.

One side of the double staircase was collapsed, and as he tried the second it too buckled. Carefully activating the smallest amount of thrust that would get him off the ground he increased it an increment at a time until he could plant his feet on the floor above. He waited, hand on the thrust for a long moment until he was sure the floor was sturdy. He messaged across the comm channel to let Eitan know that the stairs were not safe before heading into what had been his own set of rooms.

Nostalgia rose in a wave that threatened to wash him away. Even though he knew it was foolish he flipped his helmet open and took a deep breath of the familiar scents. They were plastered over with the smells of ruined architecture and other, less pleasant things, but they were still there. His cologne, Brenner's, even Eitan's, lingered, ink and paper, the soap they used on his sheets and clothes. He did not know how long he stood, just breathing, but his face was wet, and his chest hurt terribly. When Eitan joined him Stefan looked at him once, then flipped his helmet closed again.

"I don't think I need anything in here. I'll head down to the lab and the office, get what I need there. Can you go into Brenner's suite and see if any of his ministerial paper work was left?"

When he was alone again he did make his way through the room that, aside from the window glass being broken, looked the same as it ever had. There were many things there that he wanted, but they were there for important things, not childhood trinkets or favorite ties. The lab and office put him back into a mostly stable mindset. He collected small experiments into a crate along with books and papers until he was sure he had all he needed. As he headed back out he stopped, set the crate down and went into his bathroom. He'd been so proud of the design, once, and it had been a comfort and relief to be able to shower at the end of every night. There were too many memories to allow any of them to surface so he simply ducked his head to enter and reached around the door to the hooks that held two silk robes.

Folding them as carefully as he could in the armor he lay them over the crate and went to find Eitan. His counterpart had collected a few things, but it seemed Brenner had moved the majority of his operation to the Presidium in the months since Stefan had returned to the Windworks. They made their way out and into the Nachtherr. When the documents and equipment was safely stowed he turned back and pulled carefully at the pile of stones that had been the entrance to the Manor until the rubble fully covered the two remaining sets of bone and sinew that had been his parents.

When he was back on the ship, in the air, and out of the armor, (which they would leave on the ship unless either suit needed repair), he said, quietly,

"We should come back, if it's ever safe again." To say goodbye.

[Eitan Angevin]

The foray into the ruins of Dornkirk Manor left Eitan shaken, though he didn't let it affect his work. He held it together until they returned on the Nachtherr, until Beeman had some initial reports to share on the strange remains of Brenner Dornkirk. He had managed to find some files left behind, and had helped Stefan with the gruntwork of getting everything back to the airship. If he had managed to smuggle a few childhood relics, well, he didn't think Stefan would begrudge him that.

Beeman was with them too when, some time later, the Nachtherr approached the ruins of the Hall of Reconciliation. In the intervening time, the Noble Gambit had found them at the Windworks, and he and Captain Merovich had gone back and forth with the title in a sort of memorial for his sister after his former commanding officer confirmed the death of at least one Angevin sister. The second airship kept pace with them, offering the security of their guns, wards, and holds for anything they could recover from the Order's vaults.

This was, of necessity, a more complicated mission than Dornkirk Manor. Eitan and Stefan were lowered in their mechanical armor, and then they spread out while troops and Watchers hit the ground as well. In their armor, they took point. He wished he was allowed to fix the flaws and boost the power of the wards on them, but he was playing nice so that Beeman wouldn't rat him out to Stefan. In any case, the backup proved fortuitous as what first appeared to be squatters turned out to be something worse: squatters corrupted by the Dread Mists.

Some were husks of their former selves, shuffling as fast as they could toward them. Others seemed more canny, more malevolent. It felt wrong to mow them down, but everything felt wrong since the world exploded and rifts tore through the sky. Eitan coordinate them, he and Stefan testing the speed of their suits and their resilience as they acted as two juggernauts plowing through the weaklings, scattering them so the troops behind them could clean up the mess. Snipers from aboard the airships picked off those that stayed out of reach or out of line of sight from the ground.

They had gone in as if this were hostile territory. Now they knew it was. Eitan led the way. The twisted things attempted to flank them, to separate anyone they could, but their military discipline kept them safe, as well as the skills of the Watchers who had come along with them. He and Stefan did the excavation necessary to gain access to the vaults. Eitan was forced to exit his suit, much more taxing than anything he had done in it. His radio silence was brief. One of the Watchers who was also a warder trotted up to assist him. She hadn't his skill, but he could guide her. As he had feared, failsafes had gone off and now even a Seeker wasn't allowed in and so he had to walk her through laying a ward flush with the visible section of the greater wards and tune it so the harmonics of the aetheric patterns cancelled out. He engaged his Rune so he could sense what she was doing more clearly, but he poured no aether through it and so his reaction to the energetic release wasn't so strong as hers. But she was prepared and she was fine.

Once back in his suit, he declared it a success and the soldiers made a perimeter while the rest went down to start taking whatever they could, bring it to the surface, and loading it onto the ships that hovered above, sending down platforms from cranes constructed in preparation for this mission. Their suits too large to help, Eitan and Stefan helped maintain the safety of the operation, and so they were present when the survivors made contact. They were wary at first, and understandably so. Eitan's heart swelled with pride to see them, though—they were few, but each one another survivor they hadn't dared hope to find.

Quickly, they fetched what they had managed to scrounge together of any value, and then helped with the transfer of artefacts and tomes of forbidden knowledge, full of vim and vigor now that not only was survival entirely likely, but some degree of a life beyond survival. They carried word of assassinations before the cataclysm that Eitan hadn't heard of due to the byzantine neature of Order politics, but he bade them be quiet to report more fully to him later. He couldn't spare time to mull over the deaths of Vigilant Richter and Sentinel Strauss, whether they were connected to everything else that had played out or not. He remained the ranking member and it fell to him to ensure the safety of his people.

The work was long, continuing even as the sun began to set.

The creatures returned then with a vengeance, with greater numbers. Eitan's orders were swift; he had expected this. Everyone on the ground and on the airships who could be spared continued the process of retrieving the bounty of the Order of Reconciliation. But the suits of armor were more fully tested, from durability and agility to armament and utility—such as high-powered incandescant lights that helped them see what they were fighting, and also blinded some of them.

Beeman identified some of them as experiments from before the arrival of the Mists, though the Mists had changed them. Even Captain Merevech and the Dienerens were laying down covering fire.

By the time the alarums came, voices screaming "Mists!" as well as quieter but no less urgent reports in the helmet of his armor, it was too dark to attempt a full extermination. They were nearly done, but some of what lay below would have to be sacrificed. He ordered that this be the last load carried up from below, and then everything was piled onto the lifts as well as people, survivors and troops. Eitan and Stefan were the last to board, the former the Noble Gambit and the latter the Nachtherr.

Eitan ordered Stefan and Dienerin to drop incendiaries upon the site to destroy those monsters that remained, as well as whatever they could not salvage, and obliterating the door if all else failed. He followed Beeman's lead to where the College's experiments had been carried out and laid waste to the rubble there as well, hoping to crush out the life of any abominations that hadn't been released. Zaichaer had enough problems without them, and while they planned to get out with those they could, there might yet be others attempting to survive.

In the end, he was so exhausted, he remained in his suit as they flew back to the Windworks, not wanting anyone to see him weep. Once there, Dienerin helped him out of his armor and the rest of the work began. Beeman oversaw the unloading and cataloguing of what they found, as well as securing it away from any coven witches whose priorities and loyalties were not clear. Eitan debriefed the rescued Reconciliators and personally saw to it that they were given food, water, access to baths, medical attention, and housiing. They didn't have infinite space, but they had enough. And Stefan...

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The trip to The Presidium had, by necessity been much more elaborate than that to the Manor. The fighting reminded him of the Expedition, which rallied his darkened mind at least enough to give a fair showing of himself with both blade and rifle attached to the suit. At one point he'd curled down and kept the armor and his body between some of the few fighting men they had and the enemy until Eitan could come around and dispatch them. It was good to know that the two of them could shoot at in the direction of the other with no fear of harming each other. The suits were holding up well, even when the minor wards Stefan had allowed the two lesser Negation mages at the Windworks to put onto them. The dents could be hammered out and soon enough Eitan would be well enough to do what he wanted to them.

When the fight was over Stefan looked over the wrecked and rubbled courtyard that had once been the seat of power for the Northern Cities and his eye caught on the rift itself. Churning, unimaginable yet somehow able to be seen, up above. It would be easy to get lost in it, even to find it beautiful, but Stefan's emotions were numb from the constant hammering they'd taken over the last months. Every time it seemed he might get a reprieve the hammer became heavier and he simply couldn't keep trying to feel and do his duty. Duty won. Duty always won.

It took time, hours, to open up a passage to the vaults of what had been the Order headquarters, punctuated, now and then, by sniper fire as a new threat was spotted. The suits took care of the literal heavy lifting, and, eventually, they made it through. The entrance was too small to fit the suits and Stefan wouldn't know what it was looking for so Eitan exited his to enter. Going down on one knee Stefan opened his visor and said quietly,

"Use your rune if you need it, come back to me, brother." Before the Seeker entered.

Waiting was hard, but eventually both Eitan and the Watcher that had accompanied him emerged and declared it safe enough to send the soldier's down to extract what they could. It didn't feel like stealing, it felt like preserving what they could. Many boxes and crates came out of the hole, but Stefan had no idea how to tell what was information, what was magical, and what was practical. Eitan would sort it out, with Beeman's help. He was the highest remaining member of the Order they'd encountered except Beeman, who wanted nothing to do with giving orders, making schedules, or the daily issues associated with running the Watchers who remained. Eitan was a natural leader tempered by years of training to lead and Stefan trusted him completely.

When the survivors first made contact he nearly shot at them, but they were neither shuffling nor running and it saved them. It made sense that, even with all the destruction, some members of the Order would have lived and he was heartened to see Eitan heartened by the recovery of some of his colleagues. More members of the Order, whatever their ranks or abilities, would be more than welcome. There was much they would be needed for.

Stefan was more than willing to take orders from his brother in law and everyone was made aware that Angevin was in charge of the engagement. So, as darkness fell, they stayed, trying to finish the work, until the call that the Mists were rising came. Even Stefan's cold heart clenched at the warning, but the retreat was orderly. Destroying more than had already been done did not come easy, but he followed orders. He stayed in his suit until they were safely back in the warding of the Windworks and even after, using his superior strength to unload and help carry what had been recovered. When the ships were empty he went to find Eitan, who he knew must be exhausted, for he had taken his leave as soon as they'd landed.

The last of the rescued Order members was just leaving his office, which was used as more central hub than actual office now. Eitan was inside, looking grey and drawn. Stefan shut the door behind himself and came to kneel before the other man. They did not speak, nor need to, for a time, just sat until Eitan asked to be taken to where he could rest. He would be returned to the Hall in the morning, but for the night it was too much to require.

~~~

A week later they were back in their suits, with only the Nachtherr accompanying them, with a list of requested items from both Delia and her grandmother, Perpetua. Stefan wanted to get Delia everything she had asked for, but he got the feeling that if he missed things off of Perpetua's list it would cost him his skin. The mission wouldn't take nearly as much time, nor was it expected to be one where survival was in question, but the truth was, they didn't know what to expect. The scouts had reported looting and squatters taking up residence in the homes of the well to do of the West end. Stefan wasn't particularly worried about clearing out a few squatters, or even taking them back to the Windworks, but he didn't want to have to kill any untainted people. Enough had died already, and if he had to fight for family trinkets it would cost him in more threads of fraying sanity.

As with the mission to the Order headquarters, he let Eitan lead this excursion. He knew better than Stefan what was needed. Stefan was basically back up in case of trouble and an extra pair of strong metal hands to carry things.

[Eitan Angevin]

Indeed, the last words Stefan heard from his wife was a whispered, "I would like the things from my list, but prioritize Grandmother's or... well, or else." But she smiled, even though he didn't respond to the touch of her hand or her kiss on his cheek. But that had been days ago and he hadn't returned to White Knight Hall since. This troubled Eitan, though he understood exactly how busy they were. Stefan and Beeman, Dienerin and his lieutenants, they all had to utilize whatever tactics they could to send him home regularly, wanting him to recover as fully as possible, so necessary had he become. The remaining warders could bolster some of his works, but if they failed, none could rebuild them.

At the sight of the ruins, only Stefan could hear his strange laugh. Half of what had been his first home was broken down, but there was smoke rising from places in the rest of it. Cookfires, most likely, rather than arson or anything out of control. Many of the Watchers supporting them now were those they had recovered from the broken Hall of Reconciliation, eager to prove their worth to the Science Minister and the Captain-Seeker. Captain Merovech had hazarded the idea of naming him Admiral, and Beeman had said that, in the absence of a higher authority remaining in Zaichaer (and because she had no desire to lead anyone but other scholars), he ought to claim the title of High Sentinel. To both, he had said they should wait and see. When they took flight with those who were recovered, they could make decisions like that. Grasping for power and titles made no sense to him when everyone already seemed content to follow Stefan and him already.

Eitan pointed out Trystan's Folly, the tower where he suddenly remembered a birthday where Stefan had come up to bring the boys down to make the rounds. They would rather have played airship captains, but alas, their birthday had never been theirs.

"If we scour Onneifer, perhaps we could cobble together enough parts to bring the Folly along, hey?"

He was joking, of course.

Before the flight, Eitan had gone over the grounds and the layout of the place, drawing everything from memory. Everyone had an idea of how this mission was going to go. Again, the armored men took point. They would not lose anyone today if he could help it; they would gain some if fortune favored their boldness.

"This is private property," came a stern voice from above.

"For fuck's sake," Eitan said for Stefan's ears only. He raised his armored suit's hand to prevent any of their people from firing. "Stef, assure your mother-in-law that we are here to help."

Friederike had never been fond of Eitan, and while he found he was happy she had survived for Delia's sake, he would rather give the credit to Stefan, to let it strengthen his relationship with his wife and his mother-in-law, and let Eitan just remain in the background.

The woman wept when she saw Stefan's face, pointing her impressive rifle down where it wouldn't hurt anyone. She had always been a sharpshooter, and she would likely have thinned their ranks before they overcame her if they had been anyone but who they were. She wept more when he assured her that Delia was alive and well, the mother of a healthy girl. But she wouldn't hear anything of trying to get everything aboard the two airships.

She saved them some time. What could be moved was ready to be moved. Many things went up into the airships, including neighbors, servants, and other refugees who had found safety in numbers. But there were horses, carriages, and carts, supplies, and even livestock animals who could help provide variety to the diets of those who would fly with them.

She lost them some time. The carriages were escorted by Eitan, Stefan, troops, Watchers, and witches, the airships providing vision and plenty of covering fire whenever they encountered creatures. But on the way to White Knight Hall, which was nearer, they also came across other survivors, emboldened by the familiar drone of airships and the clop and clatter of carriages and wagons. The impromptu parade eventually made it to the safety of his wards, his walls, and the men and women who guarded them.

Delia and Friederike wept, embracing. Even Perpetua laughed through tears when she embraced her daughter-in-law, saying, "My dear, you look dreadful."

Then, "Oh, no. Little Devil! Run Lady Angevin a bath now. We'll have to burn those clothes... pants."

For his part, Eitan let himself back onto an airship in preparation to take what was on board back to the Windworks. There certainly wasn't room for everything at his home, and already they had been transferring refugees to the Windworks, whose outlying buildings had more space for people to make new homes in. He didn't want his stepmother living in his home, but he would give her some time there to relax, to bond with her granddaughter. There was certainly enough to keep Eitan busy at the Windworks for a while. Lucrece would be cross, but then, she was a bit of a brat and was always cross until he gave her a tickle and a tumble.

He was weary again, though not so weary as after the Hall of Reconciliation. This was a win, even if Friederike was among the survivors.

Dienerin helped him out of the armor, and he assured the new people aboard that there was room for them at the Windworks, which was also entirely safe. They would wait to see whether Stefan was joining them or remaining with his family for a while.

Later, they would have to discuss exactly how many people their airborne colony would be able to sustain.

[Rune]

R E V I E W

Lore: 20 each

Points: 25 each

Injuries/Ailments: Lots, wow.

Loot:
- 1 whole city of Zaichaer

Notes: Due to the epic length of this thread (Over 13k words by itself) and the importance of what was being written I am awarding additional lores and xp.