Tarry Here, My Wayward Son.

[Eitan Angevin]

Admiral's Office, Fort Cathevelle
15th of Ash, Year 123 of Steel

Everyone in Zaichaer did jobs they weren't expecting since the fall of the High City on 34th Searing the year previous. Since the official rise last season on that anniversary when the rift and its mutations summarily disappeared, that hadn't changed. Eitan Angevin had been a captain in the Air Defense Corps, and a Seeker in the Order of Reconciliation. Likely nobody had expected he would rise to the admiralty or to High Sentinel in only a year of heavy losses, attrition, and trial by fire, but here he was and here he was likely to remain.

Fort Cathevelle had been reclaimed, and now housed the bulk of the armies that had returned from afield, although they were given rest and succor, and then sent back out to ensure that the environs were clear, that Zaichaeri citizens either driven from the city proper or long-standing citizens in absentia, were not left to fend for themselves. They were restoring order, and they were rebuilding.

Until the old Hall of Reconciliation was restored or, perhaps, replaced, he had an office at the Windworks, which continued to ride the winds above the city, but more and more often, he found himself moving between the Fort and Onneifer Airfield. The troops were more populous, and the Order was working hand in glove with them, and so it was easier to err on the side of stability for the leader of both branches of Zaichaeri might. Minister Dornkirk spent more time above, where they had ridden out much of the year of hell, the year of mists.

Angevin flew up most nights to sleep with his wife in his home, which had also been uprooted and given - if not wings, then - flight.

"Come," he responded to the knock at his door. A pretty blonde in Riverland Corps uniform let herself in, smiled, and announced his next appointment.

"Mr. Cross is here for his appointment, Admiral."

"Yes, thank you. Send him in."

"The High Sentinel will see you now," she said, voice slightly muffled by the door. Angevin glanced over the report on his desk, refreshing his memory on the reports of this errant Watcher returned to the fold. His story was interesting, but Angevin wanted to hear it from the man himself. It was a much happier duty to welcome a wayward son of Zaichaer home than most of the other tasks he had undertaken over the past year.

[Nathan Cross]

Debris whirled in a chaotic dance around Nathan, an explosive force that robbed him of his balance. With only one functional hand, he fumbled desperately, unable to clutch the railings in time. His fingers clawed at the air, reaching for any anchor that could arrest his plummet into the jaws of impending death. In a fleeting moment, he glimpsed the entrance to the Hall of Reconciliator, a mere illusion snatched away as he was yanked back to his precarious vantage point. The next recollection etched into his mind was the abrupt descent into a haystack, accompanied by the visceral scene of a wolf-like creature engaged in combat against soldiers amidst a haze of dust and debris.

Nathan, driven by the urgency to reach the Hall of Reconciliator, attempted a vault but miscalculated, propelling himself into a neighboring building instead. It was a nightmarish ordeal, his personal purgatory unfolding since the ill-fated day at the Hobbled Gobbler. Phasing in and out of Zaichaer and the alternate plane became an unwelcome norm, an arcane affliction that haunted him ceaselessly. The mere thought of invoking his arcane arts sent shivers down his spine, for fear of spiraling uncontrollably into the astral plane. The abjinurium-edged ring embedded on his finger, a relic from the explosion, emerged as his only bulwark against permanent assimilation into the otherworldly realm.

"The High Sentinel will see you now," a melodious voice echoed from behind the closed door, disrupting Nathan's reverie. A gentle tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to the present. "Mr. Cross?" the Riverland Corps representative queried, to which Nathan, somewhat disoriented, responded, "Ah, yes. Sorry."

Stepping into the office, he acknowledged the High Sentinel with a salute. "Watcher Cross reporting in, High Sentinel," he declared before settling into a seat. His gaze flickered with surprise at the youthfulness of the High Sentinel, a sentiment quickly rationalized by the realization that the new Grand Marshal likely shared a similar age bracket. Unperturbed by the age of his superiors, Nathan reaffirmed his allegiance to Zaichaer, indifferent to the faces at the helm of the Order's hierarchy.

"The report pertains to my last mission under the previous administration. The individuals at the Hobbled Gobbler, including its owner, are not affiliated with the Blood Witch," Nathan began, pausing for emphasis. "Following the explosion, I endeavored to reach other Order branches. Penetrating the Hall of Reconciliation was untenable at the time, and communication with Vigilant Franz Cross in the Kalzaseran region was severed." Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, "I apologize for the delayed report, High Sentinel. Personal afflictions hindered my progress, though a temporary resolution has been devised."

Initially hesitant to divulge the nature of his affliction, Nathan, cognizant of the Order's stance on arcane anomalies, had reservations. Even his interaction with the Coven had yielded only a provisional remedy for his mutation. The Order of Reconciliators, masters of Negation magic, held the key to his persistent struggle.

[Eitan Angevin]

This was the former Grand Marshal's office. While Angevin hadn't taken on that mantle, as an Admiral of the Air Defense Corps, he had risen to lead the Sky Islands military and, as the Riverland forts and generals in absentia began to fall under the Sky Islands banner, he was thrust into even more responsibility. Many things were still in flux; they were making do, adapting when necessary, and trying to take Zaichaer from merely surviving to thriving.

Of course, Cross had been debriefed before he was allowed to enter the presence of the High Sentinel. He had read Lessnau's analysis, as well as Beeman's. There were reasons why Cross was brought to the very top of the current food chain.

Before inviting Cross to sit, Angevin rose and offered him his left hand to shake. The High Sentinel - whose military uniform was clearly adorned with badges that marked his membership and rank in the Order - respected his elders and veterans, no matter rank.

"Mr. Cross, please sit." And they did.

After listening to Cross' opening volley, he nodded.

"I have read your report. Investigations into the Knob are ongoing, as well as into those agents who were still in Kalzasi at the time of the rift. I have someone looking into the survival of your ward, Miss Stradiva. As you can imagine, ascertaining who survived, who departed, who are unaccounted for, and who are dead has been an ongoing, frustratingly slow process. But resources have been applied to that goal.

"So." He closed the dossier and nudged it to the side, giving Cross his full attention. Angevin was perfectly willing to hear more detail that might not have made it into the report, but he was also keen to rebuild the ranks of the Order. "You are here. May I take that to mean that you seek to return to duty, Watcher?"

[Nathan Cross]

Nathan took a deep breath, his optimism unwavering as he considered the possibility that Gabrielle, with her eccentric and curious nature, had found refuge far from the city during the blast. Amid his brief 'missing in action' period from the Order, which primarily involved the search for his uncle and colleagues at the Kalzaserean branch, he had also diligently kept an eye out for Gabrielle. Recollections of her stating her intent to join other researchers on a voyage to the Clockwork Waste in the week of the explosion played vividly in his mind.

"I greatly appreciate it, High Sentinel. She's a tough kid, eccentric but tough, just like her parents," Nathan replied with genuine gratitude, expressing acknowledgment for the High Sentinel's assistance regarding Gabrielle.

Nathan observed as the High Sentinel closed the dossier, a subtle but familiar gesture that resonated with him. The closing of the dossier and the conversation's commencement with the word 'so,' followed by a brief pause, mirrored a technique employed by the previous Grand Marshal, as well as his father and uncle. It signaled a shift towards off-the-record discussions, a method Nathan had been schooled in by his uncle, who emphasized that certain information was better conveyed verbally.

"Yes, High Sentinel. It would be the greatest honor for me to carry on the legacy left by my predecessors and to uphold the honor of House Cross," Nathan affirmed, his commitment resolute. Pausing momentarily, he placed both hands on the table, calculatingly choosing this moment to disclose his personal struggle.

Having estimated the dosage of substances he used to take, Nathan, who had abstained prior to the meeting, shifted the conversation toward a more delicate subject. "And I also would like to ask for a personal favor from you regarding my affliction," he admitted, raising his hand to demonstrate its onset of phasing. Nathan detailed his reliance on the Abjinurum ring and the temporary solution he had found in the form of ground dragonshard. His plea for help from the High Sentinel carried a weight of urgency and vulnerability.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Nathan scanned the room—a customary habit when conveying sensitive information. He recognized the High Sentinel's office as the safest haven for such discussions. Clearing his throat, Nathan broached another sensitive topic.

"High Sentinel, there is something else. It has come to my attention that my father was working on something before Kara's rebels assassinated him. I haven't delved deeper since the Blood Witch incident," he confessed, aware that his next words could implicate his father and the entire Household. "But the information my father was following suggests connections between previous administrations, the former Shokaze of Kalzasi, and the Inquisitors." Nathan was uncertain whether the 'Puppet' mentioned in the letter referred to the previous High Sentinel, the former Grand Marshal, or the ex-Shokaze. Yet, based on the letter and the events leading up to the blast, he concluded that the Puppet held a position of power in Kalzasi or Zaichaer.

"Forgive me, High Sentinel, for my seemingly outrageous speculation, but I can't dismiss the possibilities that the explosion, the arrival of the Dreadnought, and the war were planned by the same individuals or group. The events lined up a bit too perfectly," Nathan confessed, studying the High Sentinel's reaction closely. "I wish to resume my duty as a Watcher, to aid in rebuilding Zaichaer, and personally request approval to pursue this issue on the side." His words hung in the air, a mix of determination and a plea for understanding in the face of a complex and shadowy conspiracy.

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin nodded at Cross' assessment of Ms. Stradiva. He would quietly put what resources he could into looking for leads, keeping eyes out and ears to the ground. While she wasn't the State's highest priority, she was a priority, but he also didn't want to give him false hope. The Clockwork Wastes were a dangerous place, after all, especially when Zaichaer hadn't been a safe harbor to return to. But they were still in triage in many ways, even as they were also trying to solidify political and socio-economic structures, to give the people their new normal—so life could carry on carrying on. His smile at the thought wasn't warm, not exactly, but commiserating. They were all missing people and they were all doing the best they could do with the cards they had been dealt. If Angevin seemed a high roller, well, his cheeks were drawn and his eyes shadowed no matter how early his wife demanded he sleep, no matter how many meals Dienerin set by his elbow.

There was always more work.

There were always more people who depended upon him.

He wasn't complaining.

The High Seeker assured him that the resources of the College of Minders would be used to find a more permanent solution to his problem, and informed him of the planned excursions into the Warrens—they would need more abjinurium, of course.

As for the rest, he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and peering at the man with dark, probing eyes.

"I am inclined to grant your request," he said. "However, you will report directly to me and I expect the utmost in honesty and forthrightness." He was not unkind, nor was he accusing; he was where the buck stopped now, and Zaichaer could not afford for the man who was, among other things, their chief intelligence officer to not be in the know. "There is evidence of collusion between the Imperium and other forces, and investigations continue—quietly—while we focus on rebuilding. I need you to be entirely straight with me, and loyal. Zaichaer needs to march in lock step else we will succumb to outside forces."

Mists, there might even be internal forces at play still. He had to find out without letting on that he had suspicions—or the time to follow up on them.

[Nathan Cross]

Hopefully, the scholars at the College could find a better solution than me having to be some junkie, dependent on the powdered dragonshards from suppliers in the Covens. Even the dragonshards were in short supply, nevertheless. Getting my hands on some unrefined abjinurium from the Warrens is an interesting venue to pursue. Still, I must look for a more skilled runesmith or alchemist who could work better with the powdered dragonshard. He thought to himself while listening to the planned excursions into the Warrens. If only that brat were here, I could pick her brain on this topic.

"Yes, High Sentinel. I will report to you as soon as I find more information." He paused and took a deep breath. "…..and Sir, what will my 'official' duty be?" he asked as he didn't know who else was on the High Sentinel's list of trusted people; he could somehow deduce it from the official duty that he would be assigned or just asked it outright. Nathan knew that the shorter the list was, the safer it would be, but it would also be more accessible to backtrack.

"High Sentinel, I will be visiting the College of Minders to discuss this issue after this meeting, and perhaps the other issue," he said as he lifted his right arm while gazing momentarily at the stump. Nathan knew it would be difficult for him to be of significant help with only one good hand and magic that could go haywire every time he used it. "Is there an engineer or artificer you recommend that could help with the other issue? It would greatly increase the effectiveness of the operation." He asked, as he didn't know people from the engineering corps or mages that dabbled in artificing since he would always ask Gabrielle if he needed help from one of her peers.

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin nodded, having grown accustomed to his decisions being obeyed; when men acceded without push back, it required less time and effort and the sooner he could move on to the next issue that needed his attention.

"While you are in Zaichaer and within Zaichaer's dominion, you will be part of the task force seeking out plants, animals, people, and such who have been mutated by the Mists over the past year, containing them, and bringing them to the College of Minders for study or, if necessary, extermination. This should allow you free rein within the city, and you will only need a partner should you require one. There will also be more coordinated dives into the Warrens to which you might be assigned. You will need abjinurium, after all. We all will.

"If you investigation takes you to the Imperium or one of the Free Cities where we have a chapterhouse, you will be given a legitimate cover assignment to keep you occupied. Should the trail lead to Kalzasi, we will have to prepare a black operation for you and resources will be allotted to support you. We need to reclaim a foothold there, officially or otherwise, the better to apprise of us impending offensives.

"As for artificery," he said, spreading his hands, "I rose up through the Watchers, not the Minders, but my brother-in-law is a genius with artificery. Obviously, the Minister can't devote all his time to this mystery, but I will speak to Orator Beeman and have her share whatever findings the Minders have and get his opinion on their plans to help you."

His smile was tight, but quietly kind.

"I know that waiting in this situation must be torturous, but good science requires patience and time, alas. We will ensure that you are taken care of, however."

[Nathan Cross]

Nathan's mind drifted through the echoes of the past, contemplating the eerie familiarity of the present compared to the time before the explosion. The pursuit of mutated specimens had become a grim routine, but the abundance of these anomalies in the current world contrasted with the challenges faced in the aftermath of the blast. Nathan acknowledged that working with a task force now made the endeavor more manageable, a stark contrast to the solo missions of his earlier days. He pondered the alternate reality where such collaborative efforts had preceded the explosion, musing on the potential avoidance of the grotesque magic mutation ordeal that had befallen him. However, the unpredictability of fate lingered, and Nathan considered the possibility of having been at headquarters during the blast, envisioning a different, more devastating outcome.

"Yes, High Sentinel. And regarding the partner, do you have anyone specific in mind? Or I could ask for a shortlist of names later at the taskforce?" Nathan's inquiry held a sense of curiosity, his respectful nod affirming his agreement with the High Sentinel's previous statement. The shared desire for abjinurium and an enhanced arsenal akin to the Imperial soldiers reflected Nathan's ambitions and the collective needs of their task force.

The revelation of a black operation brought forth memories from the depths of Nathan's past. He recalled his father's involvement in something similar under the former Grand Marshal, stirring a sense of nostalgia and the realization that he needed to ascend the ranks to become a more valuable asset for Zaichaer. The specter of his missing hand served as a constant reminder of the necessity to compensate for his physical limitations. Simultaneously, the High Sentinel's explanation stirred thoughts about the acquisition of more powdered dragonshards from a different supplier within the Covens.

"Thank you very much, High Sentinel, for the consideration. Yes, I agree that getting a good result can't be rushed. After all, we are spread thin as it is," Nathan expressed his gratitude, acknowledging the challenges they faced. The pause that followed was pregnant with anticipation as he inquired, "So, High Sentinel, which task force will it be?" The question hung in the air, marking a crucial juncture in Nathan's journey as he awaited guidance on the path that would unfold before him.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Sadly, I have had to delegate a great deal of the personnel logistics since the reunification of Zaichaer began. You will have an appointment set up for the appropriate bureaucrat among our ranks," he said with a humorous twist to his lips, "for your marching orders. No doubt you will have temporary partners whose skills complement your own until they find a perfect fit. These matches are even more important. We can't spare a single Watcher, so we need each Watcher to be as equipped for danger as possible.

"Your supervising officer will know that you will need to take time to pursue your own investigation. I will likely have whichever Minder oversees the study of your hand and its rehabilitation sign off on that in your file. If I did it myself, well, even loyal Watchers get curious. Best not to give them more reason to be. And once your supervising officer and said Minder sign off on you being ready for Warrens missions, you might be shuffled around. There are no concrete answers to questions like yours these days, Cross. We are too few and must wear too many hats.

"If there are any names you would like put in for consideration or... lack of consideration, I can note that as well." He smiled. Angevin had tried to work well with if not get along with all of his Order brethren, as well as his ZADC comrades, but he knew how much more effective he and other people could be when they were well matched. They all had to make compromises and sacrifices, but he would try to make the machinery of the Order and the ZADC work as smoothly as possible.

The High Sentinel stood to see Watcher Cross to the door. Few were those who got his undivided attention, and even those few rarely got as much as they needed.

"I will receive reports on your progress, though, from Minders and Watchers. I will keep my tabs on you and, from time to time, check in."

[Nathan Cross]

“Yes, High Sentinel. It had been dark days for Zaichaer.” Nathan nodded in agreement. One of the reasons he had been working primarily solo before the blast was because of incompatibility issues with his partners. Besides, he was accompanied by his Aidolon before his magic got all wonky and unstable, and he still got his good hand.

Nathan paused momentarily as Eitan told him about having another officer sign off on his other assignment. He agreed silently, as he knew it would make him a target of the forces, just like the incident with Kara’s rebellion and the fact that his father was close with the previous Grand Marshal, which made his family the prime target for the rebellion. “It would’ve been suspicious indeed, High Sentinel. We don’t want the paper trail to be that obvious. As we don’t know who else is working against Zaichaer.”

“Hmm, I will have to look for the potential squad mates too, High Sentinel, as I’m not sure if they are still around or……” he took a deep breath. “I will inform you along with the report.” Nathan stopped a few inches before the door. “Thank you very much, High Sentinel, I will inform you as soon as possible. I would also like for this matter to be resolved as soon as possible, so it would not hinder the reunification process and the rebuilding of Zaichaer.” He saluted Eitan and made his way outside the room.

Well, no rest for the wicked aye. Hopefully, the crew’s still around. That brat, too, knowing her, would probably make her way back to Zaichaer even if she had to crawl on the ground to reach here. He thought to himself as he walked briskly in the hallway.