34th Frost, 122
The time had seemed to pass in a whirlwind; some days he felt like ten years had passed since destruction had come to Stefan Dornkirk's homeland, others it felt like only days. Six months, had passed, each one measured in heartache and fear, and yet, there had been joy too. The day he'd thought had ended all his previous hopes and dreams had, in fact left him with some intact. His daughter, whose age would always be an exact reminder of how long it had been since Zaichaer had fallen, was beginning to crawl, and, surprising no one, to talk. Well, not talk, exactly, but she would yell 'Da!', her piping voice somehow carrying through the house when she spotted him or heard his voice during the day when he was not usually at home. Delia was 'Ma'ma'ma' with an odd little pout of Amalia's lips between each syllable as though she were chewing on them. That she sometimes shrieked 'Da!' at Eitan while making little grabby hands didn't bother Stefan, it was amusing, and aside from that it made his chest ache in a good way he couldn't put words to. They'd had to restrict her to rooms that had been baby proofed at least up to knee height, for she was fast, particularly if her watchers took their eyes off her for the merest moment. Stefan had asked Eitan to make the wards around the edges of the Hall something that no person could pass through at least up to neck height for fear that one day she might find her way to the edge and topple over in her boundless curiosity and utter fearlessness.
The little girl had a nanny and a nurse, even so, Stefan and Delia spent as much time with her as their duties could allow. Almost, anyway, the couple needed a little time alone, and Stefan also needed time with Eitan, both of which were in short supply when things were hectic. Things had been hectic for almost the whole half year, though it had been a steady decline and, now that supplies from the Riverlands Forts assured that none of the survivors, military or civilian, would starve through Frost, there were days in which no crisis called for his attention. There was still plenty of work to take up his time, but none of it would mean lives were lost if they weren't attended to immediately.
The ships that carried the goods being made on the islands, textiles and machinery, to where the Forts needed them, and returned with cargo holds filled with foodstuff were on a rotation and needed little oversight. Of all the commanders, only Vonnegut had negotiated for more than he had originally offered. The Forts needed their guns fixed and their patrol ships repaired as much as they needed new uniforms and information, all of which Stefan would have tried to give them even if they hadn't been stuffed to capacity with the provisions. The 'trade' had felt more like the normal workings of Zaichaer than an exchange between opposing parties. Stefan had gone down, spoken to them, discussed what was needed most from each, and shaken their hands before departing. They were not admitting to being still under his command, but neither were they balking when he made requests and expected them to be followed. He had listened to their requests and suggestions as their Minister of Science when the State had been fully functional, earning him some respect and goodwill. That he had worked tirelessly for the good of the country in preparation for the war which meant now meant they were prepared to survive the coming year without a functional government had earned more significantly more.
The vast farms and town of the district were still more or less fully functional, with the makeshift fleet that now used the Windworks as their base of operations to take what they produced away and bring them what supplies could be spared. A sections of the Windworks' foundry had been turned into a metal workshop to supply basic goods that had once come from the capitol. Things like plows, harvesting equipment, even cooking implements were needed below, and sometimes above as well.
Everyone on the islands, and at the town that was springing up where the Dornkirk hunting lodge had been worked now, regardless of gender or previous social status, except children below the age of puberty. A school had been set up at each location where all the children were being educated equally. What surprised Stefan was not the contentment of the poorer folk at having themselves viewed as equals, but at that of the people who had once been considered the highest level of their society. High ladies who had once been restless and bored, or waspish with a barbed comment for everyone were now throwing themselves into their work and seemed happier for it. Dower Lady Angevin had taken to the organization of the growing lodge with a will that did not surprise him, but that other noble women spent their days at the looms alongside those who had once been whores without complaint reminded him that, whatever the trappings a citizen of Zaichaer would support the whole.
Then again, perhaps the did complain and it was Delia (and her formidable mother and grandmother) and Luca that kept the well-to-do among the survivors working with their mouths shut. Each area that needed governance and oversight seemed to have settled onto a pair of shoulders, rather than a singular person, and though not the way things had been done, it seemed to be working well. Stefan would certainly have said that if his duties as Minister of Science had included a second person of equal rank he might not have run himself so ragged as to have lost track of his family in so many ways.
The Counsel, as the governing body of the Islands, the lodge, and whatever other areas they could assist had shaped up almost without anyone having planned it. That there would be one had been planned, and what positions were needed had been discussed. People had been chosen to lead each, but, somehow, it had ended up as pairs.
The Captain of the Noble Gambit had been the highest ranking Military officer, as the captain of the largest ship left in the fleet available to the Islands, and while the man hadn't been unwilling to command, he'd also wanted the freedom to remain with his ship. So he and Eitan had come to an understanding, and between them they saw that Stefan received all the reports he needed and took care of what he wasn't needed for themselves.
The overseeing of the domestics of the Islands had been assigned to Delia, but Luca had stepped in without pause as though it had been assigned to both of them from the start. They did an excellent job, though he had no idea which one of them was taking care of which part and thought it was better not to ask. When the people had needs they were brought to him and addressed, that was as much as he realistically needed to know.
The lodge, farms and village that were growing around it were being run by the two Dower Lady Angevins. Technically he had officially tapped them for the job but only after they had taken it over without anyone having asked them. It seemed to be working out and kept both formidable ladies out of his own household, and off the Islands, which was, as far as he could tell, to everyone's satisfaction. The real test of their abilities wouldn't come until the Glade thaw when the real work would begin.
The Order was being governed by a combination of Eitan and Orator Beeman. The Latter claimed she was not in command, but Eitan did not hold rank enough to do it by himself, so the orders came from him but out of her mouth. It was a situation that needed to be officially rectified, but it seemed as though it was beginning to do so on its own. That Eitan was both capable and qualified was showing, and that he would be given the rank he deserved was all but a foregone conclusion. That Beeman was able to handle a lot of the simpler, day-to-day operations and send Stefan reports of what the Order required was needed, for, being split between the two branches that had held his loyalty before the 34th, Eitan didn't have the time for all the minutia.
The covens were being overseen by the highest ranking members of the two that had come first to request shelter; the Grymalka and the Kindred. The majority of the coven folk who took shelter either on the Islands or at the lodge were from one of the two, and the few from others accepted that they had to follow both the rules set by Stefan and the Counsel, as well as those set by the two coven leaders. And that, as with much else, was all Stefan wanted or needed to know. The Order had ensured that everyone was properly licensed; those that had not been now were and had been pardoned without ceremony. Stefan tried to think of them as a branch of the Order now, and was hoping that some sort of formal understanding to that effect might eventually be had. There was bad blood on both sides, and he wasn't expecting miracles, even from those who wielded unnatural powers.
Aside from handling all the reports and doing with them what was needed, Stefan himself ensured two things; supply and information gathering. The first he was well suited for, whether it meant assigning space for workmen to create what was needed or seeing what was already had distributed. The second he was not so good at, but he was available and, often, the reports that came required someone of his rank to even be allowed to read them. No one was left to court martial or arrest anyone of lesser rank who broke the seal on classified missives, but it was a sign of respect to the military commanders throughout the country that he took what information they were willing to send seriously. Word had reached almost all that was left of the armed forces that there was someone left to send reports to, and they were beginning to flood in. Deinerin assisted greatly with this, being considerably better at the quick sorting of information than his master was, but Stefan accepted that, sooner or later, he would need to appoint someone as, not his spymaster, but Counselor of Information, perhaps. Titles were important to people, and if he kept Minister as his, then those under him who were taking up the positions that the Ministers of Zaichaer had once held, they would need to be called something else.
All in all, the machine might not be well oiled yet, but it was up and running. It was fulfilling its function, and better than anyone had had any reason to hope for only months before. There was a pride in that, a distinctly Zaichaerian pride, and that was something to be proud of too.
The time had seemed to pass in a whirlwind; some days he felt like ten years had passed since destruction had come to Stefan Dornkirk's homeland, others it felt like only days. Six months, had passed, each one measured in heartache and fear, and yet, there had been joy too. The day he'd thought had ended all his previous hopes and dreams had, in fact left him with some intact. His daughter, whose age would always be an exact reminder of how long it had been since Zaichaer had fallen, was beginning to crawl, and, surprising no one, to talk. Well, not talk, exactly, but she would yell 'Da!', her piping voice somehow carrying through the house when she spotted him or heard his voice during the day when he was not usually at home. Delia was 'Ma'ma'ma' with an odd little pout of Amalia's lips between each syllable as though she were chewing on them. That she sometimes shrieked 'Da!' at Eitan while making little grabby hands didn't bother Stefan, it was amusing, and aside from that it made his chest ache in a good way he couldn't put words to. They'd had to restrict her to rooms that had been baby proofed at least up to knee height, for she was fast, particularly if her watchers took their eyes off her for the merest moment. Stefan had asked Eitan to make the wards around the edges of the Hall something that no person could pass through at least up to neck height for fear that one day she might find her way to the edge and topple over in her boundless curiosity and utter fearlessness.
The little girl had a nanny and a nurse, even so, Stefan and Delia spent as much time with her as their duties could allow. Almost, anyway, the couple needed a little time alone, and Stefan also needed time with Eitan, both of which were in short supply when things were hectic. Things had been hectic for almost the whole half year, though it had been a steady decline and, now that supplies from the Riverlands Forts assured that none of the survivors, military or civilian, would starve through Frost, there were days in which no crisis called for his attention. There was still plenty of work to take up his time, but none of it would mean lives were lost if they weren't attended to immediately.
The ships that carried the goods being made on the islands, textiles and machinery, to where the Forts needed them, and returned with cargo holds filled with foodstuff were on a rotation and needed little oversight. Of all the commanders, only Vonnegut had negotiated for more than he had originally offered. The Forts needed their guns fixed and their patrol ships repaired as much as they needed new uniforms and information, all of which Stefan would have tried to give them even if they hadn't been stuffed to capacity with the provisions. The 'trade' had felt more like the normal workings of Zaichaer than an exchange between opposing parties. Stefan had gone down, spoken to them, discussed what was needed most from each, and shaken their hands before departing. They were not admitting to being still under his command, but neither were they balking when he made requests and expected them to be followed. He had listened to their requests and suggestions as their Minister of Science when the State had been fully functional, earning him some respect and goodwill. That he had worked tirelessly for the good of the country in preparation for the war which meant now meant they were prepared to survive the coming year without a functional government had earned more significantly more.
The vast farms and town of the district were still more or less fully functional, with the makeshift fleet that now used the Windworks as their base of operations to take what they produced away and bring them what supplies could be spared. A sections of the Windworks' foundry had been turned into a metal workshop to supply basic goods that had once come from the capitol. Things like plows, harvesting equipment, even cooking implements were needed below, and sometimes above as well.
Everyone on the islands, and at the town that was springing up where the Dornkirk hunting lodge had been worked now, regardless of gender or previous social status, except children below the age of puberty. A school had been set up at each location where all the children were being educated equally. What surprised Stefan was not the contentment of the poorer folk at having themselves viewed as equals, but at that of the people who had once been considered the highest level of their society. High ladies who had once been restless and bored, or waspish with a barbed comment for everyone were now throwing themselves into their work and seemed happier for it. Dower Lady Angevin had taken to the organization of the growing lodge with a will that did not surprise him, but that other noble women spent their days at the looms alongside those who had once been whores without complaint reminded him that, whatever the trappings a citizen of Zaichaer would support the whole.
Then again, perhaps the did complain and it was Delia (and her formidable mother and grandmother) and Luca that kept the well-to-do among the survivors working with their mouths shut. Each area that needed governance and oversight seemed to have settled onto a pair of shoulders, rather than a singular person, and though not the way things had been done, it seemed to be working well. Stefan would certainly have said that if his duties as Minister of Science had included a second person of equal rank he might not have run himself so ragged as to have lost track of his family in so many ways.
The Counsel, as the governing body of the Islands, the lodge, and whatever other areas they could assist had shaped up almost without anyone having planned it. That there would be one had been planned, and what positions were needed had been discussed. People had been chosen to lead each, but, somehow, it had ended up as pairs.
The Captain of the Noble Gambit had been the highest ranking Military officer, as the captain of the largest ship left in the fleet available to the Islands, and while the man hadn't been unwilling to command, he'd also wanted the freedom to remain with his ship. So he and Eitan had come to an understanding, and between them they saw that Stefan received all the reports he needed and took care of what he wasn't needed for themselves.
The overseeing of the domestics of the Islands had been assigned to Delia, but Luca had stepped in without pause as though it had been assigned to both of them from the start. They did an excellent job, though he had no idea which one of them was taking care of which part and thought it was better not to ask. When the people had needs they were brought to him and addressed, that was as much as he realistically needed to know.
The lodge, farms and village that were growing around it were being run by the two Dower Lady Angevins. Technically he had officially tapped them for the job but only after they had taken it over without anyone having asked them. It seemed to be working out and kept both formidable ladies out of his own household, and off the Islands, which was, as far as he could tell, to everyone's satisfaction. The real test of their abilities wouldn't come until the Glade thaw when the real work would begin.
The Order was being governed by a combination of Eitan and Orator Beeman. The Latter claimed she was not in command, but Eitan did not hold rank enough to do it by himself, so the orders came from him but out of her mouth. It was a situation that needed to be officially rectified, but it seemed as though it was beginning to do so on its own. That Eitan was both capable and qualified was showing, and that he would be given the rank he deserved was all but a foregone conclusion. That Beeman was able to handle a lot of the simpler, day-to-day operations and send Stefan reports of what the Order required was needed, for, being split between the two branches that had held his loyalty before the 34th, Eitan didn't have the time for all the minutia.
The covens were being overseen by the highest ranking members of the two that had come first to request shelter; the Grymalka and the Kindred. The majority of the coven folk who took shelter either on the Islands or at the lodge were from one of the two, and the few from others accepted that they had to follow both the rules set by Stefan and the Counsel, as well as those set by the two coven leaders. And that, as with much else, was all Stefan wanted or needed to know. The Order had ensured that everyone was properly licensed; those that had not been now were and had been pardoned without ceremony. Stefan tried to think of them as a branch of the Order now, and was hoping that some sort of formal understanding to that effect might eventually be had. There was bad blood on both sides, and he wasn't expecting miracles, even from those who wielded unnatural powers.
Aside from handling all the reports and doing with them what was needed, Stefan himself ensured two things; supply and information gathering. The first he was well suited for, whether it meant assigning space for workmen to create what was needed or seeing what was already had distributed. The second he was not so good at, but he was available and, often, the reports that came required someone of his rank to even be allowed to read them. No one was left to court martial or arrest anyone of lesser rank who broke the seal on classified missives, but it was a sign of respect to the military commanders throughout the country that he took what information they were willing to send seriously. Word had reached almost all that was left of the armed forces that there was someone left to send reports to, and they were beginning to flood in. Deinerin assisted greatly with this, being considerably better at the quick sorting of information than his master was, but Stefan accepted that, sooner or later, he would need to appoint someone as, not his spymaster, but Counselor of Information, perhaps. Titles were important to people, and if he kept Minister as his, then those under him who were taking up the positions that the Ministers of Zaichaer had once held, they would need to be called something else.
All in all, the machine might not be well oiled yet, but it was up and running. It was fulfilling its function, and better than anyone had had any reason to hope for only months before. There was a pride in that, a distinctly Zaichaerian pride, and that was something to be proud of too.
