[closed] windworkings

[Talon]

71st of Glade, 121 Steel

The facade of the factory was impressive to behold. If there was one thing that the City of Brass had no shortage of, it was grandiose edifices that proclaimed the glory of their devotion to science and ingenuity. The aptly named City of Brass held true to its moniker, polished brass gilded the columns of the building, supporting a high arch. The main entrance was decorated with brass plating adoring the double doors that rose higher than even Talon’s height. On the plates were depictions of the majesty of Zaichaer’s dominance of the skies, proudly showcasing the sky fleet as they began as little more than wire frames to full dreadnoughts rising into artfully carved clouds.

“What do you think, Your Highness?” Talon’s eyes came to settle upon a young man. He had tawny brown hair and freckled skin. Opening himself up to the flow of the aether around him, Talon brought the young man’s aura into his focus. He immediately perceived nervousness. The entirety of the young man’s frame was littered with a touch of uneasiness. There was another thread to the weave of the man’s aura though, one that emanated from a great many of the Zaichaeri people he had encountered in the very brief time he had been in the city thus far. It was the equivalent of being met with a wall of hard stone where before there had been naught but open fields. This feeling, this emotion, Talon came to understand as a form of prejudice. Judgements existed in this one’s aura, in his psyche, at least as far as he could tell. Talon’s assessment could not have lasted more than a breath or two but already the young man fidgeted beneath his stare. He was finding people did that more often, the longer he did that. He recalled something Lyrielle had told him.

“Yours are the eyes of Justice and Justice is not always kind.”

“I look forward to seeing what awaits us inside.” Talon was not expecting to see anything remotely close to unique as far as Zaichaeri engineering went. Undoubtedly, any such projects were not made or undertaken in a place so easily accessible to the public. Besides, the Grand Marshal had already made sure Talon witnessed a taste of what their military was capable of. It had greeted him when he arrived. While he was not unsettled by what he saw, it was an indication of the sort of things that were at the city-state’s disposal if forced to defend itself.

“Of course. Lord Stefan Dornkirk and Commander Dornkirk should be here momentarily. They shan’t be much longer.” Talon inclined his head. He moved past the young man to more closely observe the plating on the double doors. “Uh, Your Highness…”

The young man went to reach for Talon. Before the young man could touch him, he was halted by Aoren. The dark winged Kathar gently but firmly grasped the man’s wrist, guiding it away from Talon.

“Peace. Heath, was it?” The young man looked down at the very large gauntleted hand that held his wrist with ease as Talon spoke to him from over his shoulder. He nodded.“I will not enter until your Master’s Dornkirk present themselves.”

Taking the steps up to the main doors of the Windworks, Talon observed the craftsmanship. It was only slightly tarnished but it was clear that each of the plates adorning the great doors received regular care. Aoren released the young man’s wrist. Heath brought it back steadily. The young man swallowed as he looked up at the towering bodyguard who simply stared back at him impassively. Footsteps sounded nearby, the young man’s superiors no doubt.

“Tell me, what story do these tell? Is it of Zaichaer or of the Windworks specifically? I can see elements of both.” Talon turned his head to regard, not Heath, but the new arrivals to their group.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

"It is both." Stefan intoned in a strong baritone as he appeared on the top of the steps and approached the group of diplomats. Well, it looked to be the one diplomat and several guards. It was wise of the prince to have the guards, one never knew when an overzealous member of the population, or even the army, might decide that their lives were not too much to pay to end the abomination that now walked the streets of the Brass City.

These thoughts did not show on his face, only a placid, if perhaps, over stern expression. He looked quite the prince himself, as much as anyone in Zaichaer anyway, in a fine brass and black brocade vest and coat. The color brought out both the blue in his eyes and the copper of his hair. It was also an undisguised nod to where his loyalties lay.

"Welcome to the Windworks, my Lord." He clicked his heels and executed a perfect, stiff Zaicaerian bow, looking almost like a jerk to an eye unused to the salute. His tone held respect and warm welcome, even if the title was lesser than might have been received elsewhere. As far as he'd been able to tell the so-called throne of Kalzasi wasn't a hereditary title and, thus, this... man, was only the heir to a great house, the same as Stefan.

Moving to where the prince could see both his host and the decorative plating he told the story of how technology had developed to solve the problems, and conflicts of Ziechaer's history. It showcased the triumph of rising to any occasion and the perseverance of overcoming.

"These last panels here, they show the opening of the Windworks, as sanctioned by the Grand Marshall and the launch of our first great ships." The Searing Victory had been added to the panels only the year before. His father planned for the entire building to be wrapped in the story of the combined glory of the city and the family, eventually.

Adjusting his arm from pointing out the building's features to pointing out his brother, who was still standing in the wide official entrance to the factory.

"I believe you have already made the acquaintance of my brother, Command Dornkirk?" He waited while the two men made their greetings before ushering the group into the main entrance.

The factory floor itself was sunken into the earth for several reasons, the excellent view offered from the rotunda balcony that severed as the entrance area to the factory hadn't been one of them, but it was certainly a perk. A beautiful luxury ship was currently in production, suspended in the air so that it was almost perfectly at eye level with whoever stood on the mosaic marble-floored circular room upon first entering. The production itself went on below, the sounds of heating metal and hammer fall echoed up from the depths to sound where the group gathered.

Several doors led off of the rotunda, left and right from the entrance, the view of the working floor was directly opposite the front door. The Kalzazian delegation had already been shown examples of the military might of Zaichaer and was probably expecting more of the same in this visit. Stefan, however, had decided, with the sanction of his father, that the splendor of their accomplishments also needed a spotlight. The city was not only a military machine, after all. He let the effect of the room and its view settle appropriately before speaking again.

"As you can see, we do more here than craft the finest in military technology. Feel free to observe." Pointing to the slim, elegant, half-built ship on display he explained, "The Himmelszelt here is being built as a wedding gift from the bride's dear father to the couple. She will be equipped with the very newest in aeronautic technology. I know the design intimately if you have any questions. I would be happy to answer them, about the ship, or our manufacture."

What information he gave would be carefully curated, of course. The technological advantage the city held would not be compromised. Some of the secrets considered State Property were Stefan's own work and while he intended to be in all things gracious, he was as jealous a guardian as any.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"I just think it reflects poorly upon us that he couldn't trouble himself to, at least, make an appearance." Brenner griped in Kathalan, "I'm supposed to tell the Crown Prince of Kalzasi that our father was too infirm to grace us with a visit to his own bloody factory?" The Air Commander shook his head, snarling.

"I mislike practising deception around so potent a creature as His Highn-..." He paused, realising he was still in the habit the Diplomatic Corps had drilled into him, of using the Kalzasern honorifics. As they were still in private, there was really no need, thus he amended his thought, "...as Talon. There's really no telling what sorcery is at his disposal. Can he sniff out lies? Read thoughts that reverberate too loudly? I am loath to put his prowess to the test making half-arsed excuses for flagrant bigotry." Brenner let out a huff. "Part of being civilised is knowing how to bloody well conceal it."

Here was another way in which Brenner more resembled their mother, who was well-practised in the arts of diplomacy and its first cousin, deception. It was probably one of the reasons he'd blundered into this posting, despite being untested in the arena. He'd been reluctant to accept the position, at first, but after meeting Talon and his entourage the prior day, and conducting them through his city with no further incidents beyond Dreyfus' folly, he found he actually enjoyed it. It required much of the same skillset that benefitted him as a leader of men. After a fashion, he was still leading people- Only in this case, it was people over whom he had no authority. He relied upon charisma and deference to serve as the crook he used to shepherd. For the moment, though, it was Stefan playing shepherd as he stepped out to where the sound of Talon's resonant baritone could be heard completing a query, which his brother seemed keen to answer.

Brenner remained atop the stairs, dressed in a different uniform from yesterday's dress regalia. Today's garment was a bit more practical for the day of walking tours and so forth. For a moment, Brenner relished the view from above- For once able to stand at a vantage high enough to see the top of Talon's head, rather than craning his neck all the way back just to look him in the eye.

"Greetings and welcome, Your Royal Highness." He sounded matter-of-fact, delivering the honorific gently enough that he wouldn't seem as though he was correcting Stefan's greeting so much as offering his own. It was accompanied by a bow.

"My apologies for not conducting Your Highness here myself, but I was summoned home to tend to our father. Regrettably, he's taken ill and won't be able to join us for the tour, but I assure you my brother is the one to meet. He's taken over daily operations and knows more about contemporary operations at the Windworks than anyone alive." With that, he stepped back and stood by, granting Stefan leave to lead whilst he followed along off to the side and out of the way.

[Talon]

Stefan Dornkirk was a man of purpose, that much was abundantly clear to Talon as soon as his eyes settled upon him. Talon took note of the formal attire, the the brass and black brocade vest and coat, the way it seemed to make him become a projection of the very city he called home. He offered the man a nod of his head even as he inspected the man’s aura. It was an elusive thing. That told him the man had discipline. That did not surprise him. Based on the way he walked, the way he commanded attention simply through his mere entrance, Talon surmised that he was familiar with military drill just as his younger brother was. He listened attentively as Stefan described the building of the Windworks factory, the sanction of the Grand Marshal and the steady rise of engineering and ingenuity that had spawned from its halls.

“Dornkirk. I found myself wondering why that name was familiar to me.” Talon mused for a moment as Stefan finished telling the story depicted on the doors. “As a boy, I recall being told stories of the sky ships that came to our borders from Zaichaer. I remember seeing them enter the sky harbor and feeling filled with wonder.”

He remembered seeing his first dirigible. It had been quite an event for him. He had seen it docking, the detachment of Zaichaeri airmen moving swiftly. They had drawn a crowd of attention. Kalzasi had its own detachment of sky ships but they were much fewer in number than that of Zaichaer. Talon wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps his homeland should invest more time in some of the mundane sciences. The power at their fingertips was formidable but in some areas he felt as though the progress of his people’s scientific achievements was somewhat stalled.

“My people do not need the assistance of such devices to fly but there is something to be said for the brilliance of engineering put behind making a ship airborne.” Talon would give a compliment where it was due. He was not an engineer. He was a warrior. A nobleman. A blacksmith. He had a mind for crafting but the level of careful planning that went into building something of this nature was not something he had ever put much thought to. When Stefan motioned to his brother, Talon inclined his head. The other Dornkirk’s aura came into focus. Like his brother, Brenner’s aura was quieted. The most immediate emotion he could discern from it was a sense of annoyance or apprehension. Beyond that, he would have had to focus to delve deeper into it.

“I wish your father well, Commander.” He felt a heavy amount of skepticism emanate from not just his bondmate but from the other guards beside him.

“Made ill by our presence, perhaps. These Zaichaeri don’t seem to take well to our magic.” The comment was made by his companion, the words spoken softly in Synskrit. Talon did not have to be bonded to the Kathar to get the implication. The question of whether the Dornkirk Patriarch skipped out on the meeting due to a legitimate illness or out of disgust for his proposed guests, was something that warranted a brief thought. He shook his head at his bodyguard. There would be time to speculate on the matter later. For the moment, he accepted the hospitality of their guides. It was either that or make a scene and after the tense moment from the day before, Talon was not eager to invite another.

Following Stefan and Brenner inside, Talon took note of the facility’s layout. He was filled with many questions as he observed the work going on in front of him.

“Himmelszelt?” Talon posed the question openly. He was still learning Kathalan but he recognized the word.

“It means “firmament”. Most commonly used in phrases to refer to the firmament of the heavens, specifically the Land of Nod, where dreams and nightmares make real the wishes of men.” Aoren spoke up without hesitation. His accent, if it had not been clear before, came to the forefront as he spoke on the meaning of the Kathalan word. An Imperial born Kathar, the man did not often speak his native tongue publicly. Talon only ever heard him speak it in private or when he was particularly irritated. The raven winged Kathar was eyeing the skyship impassively. His eyes burned with witchfires, the mark of his elementalism on display, making the amber of his eyes glow with the light of banked coals. Talon studied the ship, he watched the workers as they toiled away.

“Curious. Tell me, how does one make a ship of steel fly without the assistance of magic?” Talon genuinely wanted to know. The idea fascinated him more than he thought it would.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stephan had let his brother complain, absorbing his annoyance and attempting to quiet it by listening rather than countering it with his own thoughts. He had, in fact, been somewhat relieved when Melchior had declined to join his sons in acting as hosts and tour guides to the Kalzazian noble. There had already been an embarrassing incident with the chosen delegate of the Reconciliators, it would not aid the social status of the family or the city to have a second.

Griping finished Brenner comported himself with more grace than his brother had, offering an honorific and the easy charm that had skipped Stefan over in the womb. The elder Dornkirk had to make do with the strength of his presence alone, something he had a stark rival for in this prince. Taking a moment to really look the man, if he could be called such, over, while Talon was examining the Himmelszelt and operations below Stefan repressed a grimace. He was just as Brenner had described, like a mish-mash children's drawing, part animal, part human, and larger than either would have been naturally. One of his companions was even worse, eyes aflame, wings of darkness swathing his back.

He let the thoughts graze his mind before pushing them far away. Such things could show on the face, or in the tone, and he was here to bring honor to his family, not shame. Aside from the other oddities there seemed to be a... tattoo, on the prince's face.

Leaning just his head slightly toward where Brenner stood at his elbow he murmured in Kathar,

"What do you suppose that is on his fac..." Then he realized what it must be; a magical rune. Taking a slow breath through his nose, Stefan kept himself from taking a step back. Of course, he had known the Prince wielded magic outside his natural abilities, of course, he knew how such things were accomplished. But, heretofore, had only seen runes drawn in books or printed on wanted posters, never in the flesh. The phrase 'in the flesh' had never felt so poignant.

All of this passed in a flash and he realized he was being asked a question. Before he could gather himself to answer one of the prince's companions (bodyguards?) translated. The man could speak Kathalan, with the accent of a native. The idea that a native of Zaichaer had fled to Kalzazi for any reason was immediately suspect. Eyes darting up to find the speaker he realized it was the winged guard. No wonder the creature had fled. Glancing quickly at Brenner, knowing his brother would have caught all the implications, he then stepped up to the balcony edge with his guests.

"Indeed, you have expressed her name perfectly." He gave a gracious nod to the guard, "Your accent is very good." The compliment had the hint of a question at the end, but it was not pressed. Stephan was glad he had already reached his fill of distaste and consternation, it made standing so near the two abominations oddly easier.

Having had long ago trained his mind to record polite conversation for when his attention wandered away to more important things and Stephan quickly went over the parts he had missed while trying to remain in control of himself.

"It is gratifying to know that my father's name has spread so far." He could at least be genuine in this,

"I have heard that your city has airships of its own, but have never had the pleasure of seeing one myself. I wanted to be present for your arrival, but unfortunately, duty kept me away." This too was honest, he had wanted to see the arrival of the rival to his engineering.

A small laugh came, unexpectedly from the taller brother at the question of how airships flew,

"I am just as curious to understand how one gets a ship into the air without the aid of mechanisms. I have been informed, I hope not erroneously, that you are yourself a maker of such magical creations? Perhaps you would enjoy accompanying me to the sitting room for a discussion and some refreshments? Or, would you prefer a tour of our facilities and adjourn to refreshments afterward?"

He was not sure if a tour would mean anything to the Kalzazians, but he had given the walkthrough many times, to those wealthy enough to commission their own ships or government officials, even a class from a higher learning institution once in a while. The guest sitting room was impressively adorned with models of many of the Windwork's ship designs, in miniature, handing from the ceiling and about the room under domes of glass. It certainly helped a sales pitch to be able to point out features and attractive options all around one, perhaps it would impress the delegation in other ways.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Really?" Brenner's surprise at the prince's recognition of their name was in earnest, as was the pursuant grin. "I wouldn't have expected one such as Your Highness to have been awed at the sight of a Zaichaer zeppelin. I felt much the same when I first laid eyes upon The Sky Leviathan..." It had been a well known vessel, and served as flagship of the A.D.C. for years before being decommissioned and replaced with the newer models that now composed the fleet. It hadn't been a Dornkirk design, and Stefan had improved upon its best qualities in conceiving the Searing Victory, but there would always be a special place in Brenner's heart for that old dreadnought. It was the first thing Brenner could ever remember feeling reverent toward... worshipful.

Brenner cocked an eyebrow as one of the prince's retinue spoke in response to Talon's query about the nomenclature of the vessel Stefan had referenced. In his periphery, he caught a pointed glance from his older brother and cleared his throat before casting his attention upon Aoren. Brenner didn't understand Synskrit, but he inferred that the creature was providing an answer in case the Dornkirk definition was deemed deceptive or otherwise misleading.

"Dare I hazard there's another in our midst with an Imperial background?" Brenner cast a winning grin toward Aoren and continued in Kathalan, "Stefan and I grew up speaking Kathalan with our mother. She gifted us this tongue as a souvenir from the Motherland, but here in the Fatherland we've barely opportuned to use it outside our family..." He trailed off, and returned his attention to the prince.

"I'm not sure if your minion mentioned this, Highness, but the literal translation of the word is 'Heaven's tent'. Kathalan is a fascinating language, full of poetry and, you may be surprised to know, a dash of whimsy. The word for 'turtle', you see, is 'Shield Toad'." He chuckled. "Isn't that a lark?"

Brenner stood by as Stefan and the prince spoke of more pointed matters. The Air Commander's mission was to be his best approximation of charming, and to take note of everything he could observe about Talon. Brenner was the good cop, there to smooth out discomfort, distract from chaos, soften the barbs of less diplomatically minded Zaichaeris, and so forth. Stefan could be more direct, and Brenner could mitigate any adjacent insult that might arise from their discourse.

[Talon]

Aoren met the curious stares and questions of Stefan with silence. It was well known that the Imperium detested the existence of Kalzasi. It was a fact that placed the two cities even further at odds in most things. The empire viewed Kalzasi as an errant states whose citizens had fallen well away from its firm but necessary guidance. The Synnekar of Kalzasi viewed the Imperium with open hostility. Rumors circulated that Kalzasi, while not being a direct handler of such matters, was involved in accepting refugees fleeing the Imperium for one reason or another.

“My people offer respect where it is due, Lord Dornkirk. Your machines have a rippling effect that extend beyond Zaichaer. As the skyships of the Brass City grow ever more fearsome, the pirates that sail the clouds grow more devious. They either retreat to places whose skies seem less threatening or rise to meet the challenges presented by your advancements.” Talon had yet to participate in such matters himself. He doubted he would see it any time soon but he had heard in one of the briefings to the council that sky brigands had been displaying more aggression in areas either away from Zaichaer or closer to the border. The eagle riders and their support had certainly been pressed for a time as they dealt with the odd increase in aerial combat. He was surprised at Stefan Dornkirk’s inquiry regarding his work as a runesmith. Talon would have thought that such a topic of conversation was horrendously averse to a Zaichaeri.

“I have worked the forge my entire adult life. Learning to manipulate and bend aether to their will was expected of my mother’s children, I was no exception.” Talon would not have traded his gifts as a mage for anything. It had been a rigorous childhood, with rarely a moment’s break between tutoring, martial lessons, and arcane theory in preparation for his Warren March. He had survived, as had all of his siblings thus far. That was in no small part to the strict standards expected of the children of the sovereign. “If you have questions, I will certainly do my best to provide an answer.”

Talon listened as Brenner clearly switched to Kathalan as he spoke to Aoren. Though Talon did not manage to catch the entirety of what was said, from his partner’s growing curiosity it must not have been anything bad.

“Nothing and no one from Gel’grandal is a gift. It is an investment. Always.” The Kathar folded his arms over his chest, eyes passing from Brenner to settle upon Talon once more. The raven winged man resumed his silence then, ever watchful of anything that might be amiss. Talon observed the exchange briefly before returning his attention to Stefan.

“I would enjoy a tour of your facility, Lord Dornkirk. As I said, the idea is one that fascinates me. If you are so inclined--” The sound of a loud clanging drew Talon’s attention back toward the ship that was being worked on. Higher up, toward the rafters, one of the workers toiling away atop the scaffolding shouted in both pain and panic as he stumbled. Talon did not see what tripped him but he did see the man falling as whatever disruption caused the commotion propelled him over the edge. The man screamed loudly, from his height, death was certain. Talon was moving before he put conscious thought to any of his actions. He let the flow of his aether suffuse the path in the aether flux before him. He expanded it to create a net of gentle force around the man plummeting to the floor then quickly stepped forward. As the man’s descent was slowed, the young demigod moved. Talon performed a Seeming of his aether with the flow just beside the man and from one breath to the next, he was beside him in mid-air. Talon’s wings were not extended but tucked closely beside him to avoid knocking into anything. He caught the man in his arms, releasing the net he fashioned.

Talon levitated there for a moment before descending to the floor where he deposited the startled man gently. The man stumbled away from him. Whether from shock or nerves, he could not tell. Talon merely gave the man a bow then hovered back over to the side of his guides. He dusted off the sleeve of his shirt as he stepped up to Stefan and Brenner once more.

“Where were we?” He smiled, silver eyes not reflecting the humor. That had seemed terribly well timed to him. He felt the suspicion grow across his bond as his partner reached the same conclusion.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The tension-overlayed pleasant conversation continued to flow around him in several languages. Stefan tried to absorb what was being said without giving it his full attention. The sounds of the manufactory soothed him, made it easier to relax in the present circumstances. He was more relieved than ever that he had missed the delegation's arrival.

When the prince addressed him again he was able to listen with real interest. In the same way that he studied plant and animal life twisted by magic, the idea of studying the magical answer to the natural function of mechanics was of true interest.

"Of course, our facility is open to you." Not entirely, of course, but no less so than it was to any honest imperial citizen. Turning and gesturing with an open palm to the set of stairs leading down to the working floor he was abruptly interrupted by the sound of metal on metal and a cry of pain. With concern, but not undue concern the elder Dornkirk brother looked up to where the workers were toiling almost on eye level with the balcony.

There were nets below, intended to ensure no accidental loss of life for those who chose to work near the ceiling. The net was in addition to the safety harnesses workers were required to wear and attach to hooks that were available, by design (Stephan's design) on all scaffolding.

Yet, the man fell. The rigid control drilled into him from infancy kept Stephan from making any outward sign of worry or displeasure beyond his distinct frown.

Then Talon moved, the air around Stephan felt electric, small hairs all over his body tried to stand. His breath caught in his throat and his right hand reached out to find a crushing grip on Brenner's wrist. His hold showed the physical strength Stephan fostered but usually his beneath his finely tailored garments.

The falling worker was caught in the grasp of invisible forces, then the Kalzazian lord himself was swooping up into the air, born on the wings of another form of magic. It was beautiful in a way that twisted sickly from Stephan's eyes into his mind; like watching an avalanche fall onto a town from very far away. The workman was plucked from the air and deposited on the ground in a state that Stephan was sure a Kalzazian would describe as 'unharmed'.

He was stone-still, aside from the death grip on his brother, for several moments as the scene unfolded. It was the quiet clearing of a throat at his shoulder, the opposite one to where Brenner stood, that brought him out of it.

His manservant, Dienerin, had come out of where he had been preparing the sitting room and it appeared had seen the accident and its non-accidental, disastrous, conclusion.
"Sir," The man's calm tone was only slightly off usual. "Shall I send someone to see to it?"

The request for his leadership snapped Stephan back into himself more quickly than anything else might have.

"Yes, Dienerin, do." Turning enough that he was facing his assistant he said, quietly,
"Inform the man that he is on leave until he has had himself properly inspected for any lingering ill."

Dienerin's expression changed only minutely but Stephan knew he understood. The worker would not be welcomed back to his job until he had been thoroughly examined for any lingering effects, intentional or otherwise, of the magic that he had come into contact with. Stephan would see the man paid for the time that would require, assuming he wasn't in some way responsible for the incident.

The fact that all his safety precautions had been, somehow, removed or ignored, spoke of more than a mere accident. As Talon reappeared on the balcony Stephan released his hold on his brother and forced himself to swallow the horrified anger coursing through him.

"I apologize for this unfortunate, and surprising, incident. I assure you we take the safety of our workers with extreme seriousness. If you'll follow me down I will show you how our precautions are designed." Stephan's own suspicion came through in his voice as he led the way down the stairs.

Over the next hour, he gave the traditional tour, adding information about the safety procedures and any information he thought the delegation would find interesting that might not be understood by school children or other typical tour groups. The basic reality of how to make a ship fly was common enough knowledge in Zaichaer that, had the delegation so wished, they could have simply gone out and bought books on the subject. Stephan was thus more than willing to discuss the general theory and its applications with Talon. Much of what made the ships so effective was in the details of design, things that were not included in the pleasure craft which was on display above.

Talon asked good questions, which made it easier for Stephan to convince himself that he was talking to a fellow mechanist or an investor with some knowledge of the trade. It helped him maintain his mask of calm and geniality but he also silently thanked his parents for their intense training as, without it, he would never have gotten through the afternoon.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Ah yes..." Brenner suppressed a smirk, "It woes me to admit that I haven't come across any Skyracy in recent months." He slipped in a bit of portmanteau he'd whimsically coined over whiskey one evening with some of his crewmates. 'Skyracy' and 'Skyrate' had entered the common parlance aboard The Searing Victory, though the terms had yet to invade the general Zaichaeri vernacular. "I hope our diligence has not driven too many of their number your way." He even managed to sound relatively sincere.

He returned the blue fire of his gaze to Aoren, as Talon and Stefan spoke of matters arcane, and considered his Kathalan reply with a good-natured chuckle and an arched brow. Brenner certainly didn't disagree with the sentiment, though he suspected he wasn't receiving it in the way it had been intended. For the Air Commander, it was a worthy investment indeed.

"As you say, Kamerad. And may the investment in us bear glorious fruit." He inclinded his head slightly, and parted his lips to speak on, before the clangour above drew his attention away from the envoy from Kalzasi. Brenner's immediate reflex was not concern for the wellbeing of his fellow man, but concern over the possibility of being embarrassed again. Dreyfus had already sullied Brenner's diplomatic efforts by blundering onto the airfield and making a mess of the formal introductions, and it would be even more exasperating for aught to go wrong at the Windworks, of all places. Here he was representing, not only Zaichaer, but also the fledgling House of Dornkirk.

Brenner clucked his tongue, grimacing as the man staggered and began to topple over the ledge. Bloody vexing, he thought, as his eyes followed the rapid descent, but at a certain point his gaze kept falling whilst the man himself ceased to. Perplexed, Brenner's eyes darted to Stefan as his brother's grasp closed about his wrist. He furrowed his brow in confusion, looking from Stefan back up to the space between the floor and the rafters where he found the fellow seeming to hover aloft. His eyes widened as he turned to regard the Prince of Kalzasi, who was beginning to alight into the air ostensibly without the use of his wings. Brenner felt his blood curdle and a shiver rolled up his body like an angry tide.

He took a quaking breath and placed a firm, steadying palm over his brother's whitened knuckles, still clutching his slender wrist. Stefan gathered himself and ordered Dienerin after the man. He lowered his voice to a whisper as he leaned close enough to warm Stefan's ear with his breath.

"Have Dienerin call for the Order of Reconciliation, straight away. Victims of mage abuse are to be interrogated in haste whenever possible." With that said, Brenner relaxed the hand that rested atop his brother's and Stefan drew it away as he made his apologies. Brenner found himself proud of Stefan for maintaining composure and treating the matter with a diplomat's delicacy. He knew Stefan would not have done so blithely, and that he had to swallow down a great deal of bile to sweeten his tongue so.

"Your Royal Highness..." Brenner began, without craning his neck to regard the towering figure of the Avialae aristocrat. "Whilst you are a respected plenipotentiary from an esteemed neighbouring city, I must ask that you refrain from such..." He cleared his throat, and swallowed audibly, "...displays. Of course I am aware of your diplomatic immunity, but whilst you are not subject to our laws, you may not realise that you are putting yourself, your party and this city in peril by using your Kraft in public.

"Zaichaer is not an unruly realm. Our population is respectful of the State, and you are a guest of the State, but these are not typical times. You see, it wasn't long ago that we were the victims of a dastardly, terrorist attack. Perhaps you've heard of The Tragic Events of Glade the 8th? Stefan and I were in the courtyard on that bloody day, and we bore witness to the wanton use of magic and the level of carnage it can wreak..." He trailed off, seeming to remember himself in the silence of the moment,

"Whilst Stefan and I are enlightened people and tolerant of..." He gestured broadly in the direction Talon's act of arcane heroism had taken place, "...such spectacles, there are many amongst our populace who are traumatised and poised to lash out. I know it may seem backwater to Your Royal Highness, but even a magnanimous exhibit of witchcraft like this one could stoke the fires of resentment and be met with bloody constraint." He regarded Stefan,

"Apologies, brother. I will permit you to continue the tour."

[Talon]

Years of his practice as a sorcerer gifted with the powers of Semblance helped Talon form an intuitive insight into some of the emotions of people around him. The ability to look past the realm of the mundane and behold the tapestry of a person’s every emotion, even down to the echo of something they might have eaten, to see the inner workings of their body and even the things they wore, it helped him get a sense of what awaited him as he returned his attention to the Dornkirks. Across their bond, he could feel his partner urging him to act with caution. Talon realized his mistake immediately.

He had used magic.

He had used it openly.

It did not matter if the act itself had been in the interest of saving a life. Whether benevolent in intent or functionally harmless, Talon had used magic. He had used it in front of two officers of the Zaichaeri military and their entourage in a factory designed to help fashion the ships they prized so dearly. Silently he swore to himself. As he listened to Brenner rather politely reprimand him for acting thus in their presence, Talon schooled his features. He found it utterly baffling that the issue at hand was the fact that he had used his powers, not to save a life, but that he had used them at all.

“Apologies. I did not realize that such a small display of beneficence would be so upsetting.” Talon inclined his head. “In my homeland, it is expected that the Gifted will move to act in defense of their kinsmen when danger presents itself. I moved on instinct. I shall bear in mind the sensitivity of my present company more firmly.”

He arched an eyebrow at the mention of Glade 8th. He had heard of the disaster that had occured in the square. The fallout from it, from what Talon understood, had been a mad witch hunt that had seen even more people burned at the stake. He could only imagine the barbaric way in which the Zaichaeri authorities dragged people out into the streets, heedless of their innocence, just to find a whiff of the accused.

“We heard of that unfortunate event and its aftermath.” Talon shifted his wings so that he could rest his hands at the small of his back comfortably. “I trust that Zaichaer's Reconciliators brought the perpetrator to justice.”

Though he did not expect a response, he posed the last statement as though it were a question before moving onward. The tour continued and Talon was escorted through the rest of the factory without incident. He did his best to not think on how curiously timed the man toppling over the edge of scaffolding had been. From what he observed, there were supposed to have been safety measures in place to guard against such an accident. Safety netting, ropes and pulley, even harnesses that some of the workers wore to protect them from falling. It was clear that Stefan took extreme care to make the work environment for his laborers as safe as possible. That was what made the encounter seem all the more out of place. Talon asked honest questions, openly complimenting the dedication to engineering that it took to accomplish the work that the Windworks produced. When the tour was over and they were drawn to the sitting room, Talon joined the Dornkirk brothers. As tea and other refreshments were made ready, Talon accepted his cup with calm and poise. He opened his senses up to the aether, inspecting the contents of the cup carefully.

The aura and aetheric structure of both the cup and the tea came into his field of view. He perused it for a moment, checking for any chemicals or compounds that seemed out of place before taking a sip. Talon then turned his eyes to the Dornkirks. Their auras came into focus. As expected, the details of their emotional state were tightly controlled in his vision. The both of them were military men. Brenner seemed to be an apt diplomat from what Talon had encountered thus far. Unlike the common man, studying them would require more careful observation than mere cursory glancing.

“A question, for the both of you.” Talon formulated his words carefully. “What is it that you love most about your homeland?”

It was a simple enough question. Talon could name so many things he loved about his people and his country but he wanted to hear from two seemingly well-off natives of Zaichaer what drove them to love it so much. Perhaps if he understood that, he might be able to go into the summit with a clearer understanding of the people he was dealing with.