The Riverland Festival Gala [Open]

[Brenner Dornkirk]

The Riverland Festival Opening Night Gala
15 Searing, 121
The Hall of Inventors

The elite of Zaichaer, like most societies of leisure, required little excuse to gather and make merry. Everything from a wedding to an execution might serve as a perfectly acceptable pretext for a fête. One of the more extravagant examples of Upper Class Zaichaeri excess was the opening night gala of the annual Riverland Festival.

The 121 gala was held in the hallowed Hall of Inventors, and hosted by the office of the city-state's Chief Science Officer who resided there. The discerning list of distinguished guests ranged from corporate CEOs to Admirals of the Air Defence Force, from debutantes to Reconciliators, all dressed to the nines in the latest Searing fashions.

Whilst much of the city reveled in the streets, reporters from the State press gathered around the red carpet to watch carriages drop off newsworthy notables so they could report on what they wore and whom they brought as their dates to the coveted ball.

The carriage that delivered the Dornkirks was, itself, a statement. Framed in burnished brass (to honour the city thereof) that also lined the spokes of its large wheels, the body of the coach was made of polished mahogany with deep crimson curtains shielding the four occupants from the view of the surrounding rabble.

Liveried footmen approached the coach to open the finely hewn doors. Brenner, the youngest Dornkirk, was the first to step down in his classically patterned suit of gold jacquard, with a deep rusty bronze shirt and tie peeking out from under the high collar of the metallic jacket. He offered a hand up to help his mother, the Lady Sylana Falkanos Dornkirk of Geleros, down the steps of the carriage and onto the red carpet. Her gown complemented the metallic tones of Brenners, as did the suits of both her husband Melchior and eldest son Stefan, both of whom emerged from the coach after her.

Air Commander Brenner Dornkirk led the way toward the grand staircase leading up to the Hall of Inventors, waving to the reporters lining the red carpet but ignoring the questions they lobbed his way. Brenner was followed closely by his relatives, who ascended the steps together and made their way into the grand hall.

The strains of a jaunty, modern Zaichaeri tune poured across the elegant crowd from a stage that had been erected toward the rear centre of the ballroom. Upon the stage was a popular band with a female singer crooning State-sanctioned sentiments, as a crowd of the younger attendees danced a well-coordinated foxtrot, as most of the more mature guests lingered along the periphery. Some watched the youth dance with delight, whilst others shook their heads in critical contempt at the lively dance- deeming it chaotic and unseemly for a fine function like the gala.

Brenner, for his part, grinned ecstatically at the trendy tune and jogged over to the first female he recognised in the crowd,

"Jane!" He beamed, as he trotted over to the corner where the Farraways were inspecting a tray of canapés being presented by a footman. Brenner inclined his head to Jane's mother,

"Lady Farraway." He cocked an eyebrow, "Might I steal your daughter for a dance? I never miss a chance to foxtrot."

[Jane Farraway]

Searing 15th, 121. The Hall of Inventors, Zaichaer

The Ballroom of the Hall of Inventors had been splendidly decorated, the high ceilings layered with a sprawling sky of filigreed airships and celestial bodies that showcased a fine precision of clockwork engineering as they traveled through a shifting day cycle. An artificial atmosphere of clouds swirled around the soaring vaults, maintained through an innovative machine with focused control over temperature and humidity. The clouds gave off a hazy ambiance, filtering the light given off by a star map based on the most current astronomical discoveries. The entire display was an exhibition of Zaichaeri scientific progress condensed and projected into a moving diorama. Jane could not help but marvel at the skyscape, her head craned upward. Carmen briskly tapped her shoulder to redirect her attention.

“Don’t gawk, dear. We can’t seem too impressed”, her mother reprimanded her. She wore a glamorous gold and silver gown with red accents in a style similar to Jane’s own dress, an inversion of silver and red with gold accents. The biggest difference between the two was that Carmen’s dress seemed to fit whereas Jane struggled with the tight satin. Her mother must have relayed a smaller dress size in her last letter, likely out of hope that her daughter could wear it.

Normally such fashion would be well beyond their means, but they had been purchased for them to wear at the Gala by the family of her mother’s “date”. He was a retired general of the Defense Corps, over twice her age and wearing a highly decorated uniform that hung loosely on his elderly frame. A relic from a bygone era still admired among military circles and those that loved to reminisce on Zaichaer’s past victories. The General's family, however, seemed to regard him as more of a burden. A burden that Carmen offered to escort to the Gala, freeing his sons and grandchildren to cavort as they pleased. The youngest grandson had been asked to accompany Jane, a modest request by her mother, but he seemed to have found a more suitable date at the last minute.

It was hardly a disappointment, though disappointment as a whole had become expected at these events. Jane always made an obligatory effort to retain the smallest degree of relevance among the Zaichaer Bluebloods. Most found her presence pleasant, but irrelevant, appreciated, but not terribly missed. Much like the General, the Farraways were a remnant of Zaichaer’s glory days. She could relate that much with the shaking old man that shuffled along at her mother’s side.

Decadent samples of hors d'oeuvres drifted on silver platters throughout the crowd as they chatted between the lively musical sets. Canapés of paper thin beef, aged and spiced, were delicately folded on flaky crackers, piped with a creamy whipped topping. It was richer than any food the Farraways could enjoy in private, but thought of eating in such a snug dress had killed Jane’s appetite. Carmen looked over them impassively and nodded at the old General holding her elbow.

“We were hoping for something a bit—softer”, she said to the footman. He gave a bow and rushed off to fetch another tray.

Jane turned about as someone called her name. That fact that she had been addressed at all was surprising, much less that they should use her preferred name. Even more remarkable was the person who addressed her. The fashionable figure of a Brenner Dornkirk made his way towards her, their eyes locking across the room. She knew the man, at least in passing. They had crossed paths infrequently, exchanging small talk and recent news of the State. He was, in her eyes, the picture of Zaichaer high society and success.

Carmen remained poised as she whispered to Jane, her voice restrained but filled with excitement, “That’s Brenner, the youngest son of the Dornkirk family. Air Commander. Recently escorted a Kalzasi diplomat. Mind yourself, Camilla.”

They both smiled, Carmen's a bit wider, as Brenner asked for permission to dance with Jane. She flushed at the invitation, hesitating as her mind raced for what to say before her mother gave her a gentle push towards him.

The older woman laughed quaintly, “No need to steal what's given, Sir Dornkirk. Camilla, won't you humor our dear Commander?”

Jane closed her eyes and curtsied, falling back on her etiquette lessons, “Of course, It would be my pleasure”. With that she locked arms with Brenner and they went towards the dance floor.

“Very nice to see you again, Brenner. You look well.,”Jane said, somewhat at a loss for words. It felt strange that she should use his first name, but given how he addressed her she assumed it was his preference.

The band began to pick up, having taken a brief pause between sets. She reflexively took his hand and placed the other on his shoulder, but soon realized that the others were engaged in a modern dance unknown to her. She looked away and gave a nervous smirk.

“Forgive me, I don't know how to dance the “Fox Trot”. I'll need to follow your lead, if you don't mind”

[Eitan Angevin]

Nobody from the Angevin household had contacted him about the gala, but an invitation had arrived for him all the same. As such, Eitan had come alone, looking rather slick in his dress uniform, curls slicked flat with pomade. He was the very model of a modern Air Commander, and he had been making the rounds. There were those who would never let him forget his mongrel heritage, but others seemed to accept him as one of their own since he had the Angevin name, an officer's commission, and those ghastly knife-ears had been expertly cropped. He didn't look a thing like a hairy Dratori beast! But that particular début was long past. He was an officer and a Warden and people were kind or polite to him depending on their station, their relationship with the Admiral, and several other factors.

He was jovial or solemn as the situation required. Bowing to one old dowager, listening to that retired vice admiral, and otherwise gleaning what he could from conversations overheard and glances cast hither and thither. These were the élite of Zaichaer and if his place here was precarious, it would not become dangerously so unless his father disowned him, which seemed unlikely given he had spent some social capital keeping him around at all. Things might change when the old man died and Orilla became the matriarch of the House. But even she seemed to have come around to the inevitability of his presence.

With any luck, by the time the Admiral passed, may that day be far in the future, his own career would be well established and his unfortunate heritage would be more trivial than it had been before. There were glances cast his way, though — calculating. Of course there were. Some families would take a mongrel Angevin for their daughter any day. But nuptials were not a thing on his map just yet. He was focused on his career and figured it was best to leave such things to his father's discretion.

Eitan wasn't skulking exactly, but an early survival skill had been to fade into the background and listen. He was doing that to the best of his ability when he saw the Dornkirks arrive. He didn't suppose he would hear anything tonight that might help Brenner with his plan, but it was always good to have one's finger to the pulse of high society. He glanced toward the entrance but saw no sign of his family.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The manner of the Dornkirk Family's entrance was carefully curated, from their matching, but not identical clothing, to the timing, to the fact that Brenner entered first, escorting his mother while he, Stefan, entered at his father's right hand.

The social implications should be clear, Brenner was an important asset to ornament and emphasize the Dornkirk name but Stefan was The Heir. They paused for a predecided amount of time at the top of the staircase that led down onto the gala floor, letting themselves be seen. Stefan used the moment to look up at the scientific display. The offering was an ingenious combination of the new technology that had been designed or perfected since the same Ball last year. The elder Dornkirk himself had created, or overseen the creation of a good number of the miniature airship replicas floating in the artificial cloudscape. They really flew, fueled by small dragonshards, and were set to maintain a certain continuous flight path circling the exhibition till morning.

The family descended and the chaos of high society crashed down around them. Melchior stepped in to take his wife's arm as their younger son bounded away to greet someone he'd spotted. Stefan's plan of keeping near his family for the evening vanished as his parents went the opposite direction, if with greater dignity, to be surrounded by the little court they had begun to gather about them at these kinds of functions.

In a moment he was alone in the swirl of sound, light, laughter, conversation and movement that it had taken him years not to be instantly overwhelmed by. He knew he had about a minute to do something with himself before he would be descended upon by young women or well-meaning relatives of young women. He grimaced knowing that his parents, if not his brother, had almost certainly abandoned him to such a fate intentionally.

Glancing about he spotted Brenner already leading a plumply pretty young woman to join the couples already dancing. Running his eyes over the crowd a bit frantically, hoping to see someone he at least knew he would be able to have a conversation with he alighted on his brother's childhood companion. Blinking at how much the youngest Angevin had changed in the several years since Stefan had last spent any meaningful time with him he pushed himself through the press of polite bodies toward the comfortingly familiar uniform that was now identical to what Brenner wore into battle.

"Angevin." He greeted, polite and more than coolly friendly. He too had fond memories of the half-breed joining in his and Brenner's games in their youth. Despite the difference in their ages, the younger boy had always kept up. Good things were said to be spoken by his commanding officers as well, rumors that were proven by his quick rise through their ranks. "I trust you are well?"

Reaching out with one long arm he pulled a drink from a passing server's tray to let anyone who might be watching him know he intended to stay in his current conversation for some time. It would tell Eitan the same thing but there were things Stefan genuinely wanted to discuss with the man so he hoped his ploy to be left alone would be respected. After the pleasantries had been exchanged he said,

"Brenner tells me he's slated you onto his shortlist for the expedition he's been planning. I must say, the games we played as boys have certainly panned out, for the both of you. Congratulations on your promotion, much deserved from what I hear."

There was nothing of mocking or disdain in the elder man's tone now. He would admit he had distanced himself from Eitan after he'd entered the Battle Academy. There had been many reasons, none of which had proven accurate based on the current evidence. Stefan was a firm believer in any man being allowed to prove themselves loyal citizens through hard work and dedication to Zaichaer. Eitan seemed to be trying to embody the ideas therein and Stefan respected that.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Camilla!" Brenner repeated Carmen and wrinkled his nose, "Did I call you by the wrong name? A thousands pardons if so... I just thought I remembered someone calling you Jane at Lady Gerestant's Frost season soiree." He paused for a beat, "But I suppose that was quite some time ago and pursuant to a great deal of mulled wine. At any rate, Camilla..." Now he bowed his head and offered his arm, "With your mother's blessing, will you do me the honour?" He cast a dashing smile at the unassuming lass as she accepted his arm. He dipped his head in a nod to Carmen, and marched her daughter down toward the ballroom floor.

Brenner raised his voice to be heard over the music as they drew closer to its source and replied:

"Well, you look well as well!" The music had ended right before he spoke, so Brenner's voice was awkwardly loud and sounded overenthusiastic in the comparative silence of the room. He winced realising he'd not only just shouted unnecessarily but he'd also used the word 'well' three times in one brief sentence. The repetition of that one word represented a full half of his statement. He blushed a bit, embarrassed at his ponderous parlance and looked ahead to the crowd of young Zaichaeri partygoers gearing up for the next dance. As the band began the opening strains of their next song, Brenner frowned at the tempo.

"Well, it seems you're in luck." He replied with chagrin, "It looks like they're following up with a ballad, so you'll be spared your first foxtrot." In truth, he'd been excited to show off his talent for contemporary popular dance on a nice uptempo. Now, as he watched many of the young couples quit the dancefloor as their elders descended upon it, he realised he'd locked himself into the uncomfortably intimate scenario of a slow dance with a relative stranger whose name he hadn't even gotten right.

"Um..." He cleared his throat and gestured toward her waist with his left hand, "May I?" He awaited permission to place his left hand there, and raised his right with the palm facing his partner. This wasn't what he'd signed up for, but he would make do.

"I haven't seen you around at the past few functions I attended. I trust all has been well?"

[Jane Farraway]

Searing 15th, The Hall of Inventors, Zaichaer

Jane glared furtively at her mother. Carmen held no small resentment that her daugther started to go by her middle name whilst living in Haqs. It had been easier to be a little girl named Jane than a Lady named Camilla in that sleepy farming town. Regardless, it was a family name, the name of her grandmother, so abandoning it was like forsaking any other part of their legacy. As such, Carmen always insisted on using her first name, except when she was mad, perhaps as a way to reinforce its negativity. Jane tolerated this peeve, but embarrassing Brenner for it stretched her patience thin.

“Oh, no, no, you're right! My name is--”, .

“It's Camilla Jane, Commander, so you are not far off the mark. “Carmen interrupted, “Whoever called her “Jane” must have been quite drunk themselves, since I and most others use “Camilla”. Isn't that right, dear?”

“Yes, Mother, you certainly do”, Jane replied.

Brenner took this apparent faux pas with good humor, but she flinched as he attempted to correct himself. Once they were out of earshot, she leaned over to him.

“Please pay my mother no mind. The person from the soiree was a friend of mine from Haqs who stayed with us for a time during Frost. I greatly prefer Jane, so please continue addressing me as such.”

The mishap seemed to have thrown him off kilter and he stumbled with his words. Jane felt guilty that her mother had put him in such an uncomfortable position, but she could not help but be charmed by his nervousness. Zaichaeri pleasantries were widely understood to be a game meant to polish one's image so brightly that it reflected all flaws back on viewer. To see any cracks, no matter how fine, was refreshingly earnest and helped to put her at ease, though unfortunately at Brenner's expense.

“I suppose all's well that ends well”, she said lightly. The memory of this regretful comment would later haunt her at odd hours of the night for years to come.

Jane's heart slowed with the dropping tempo and she gave a gentle sigh of relief once she realized she would not have to exert herself with a strange new dance. Brenner tried to play this off, but still seemed disappointed.

“If anything you've been spared my first lesson”, Jane smiled, “But the night is still young; I'm sure they'll pick it back up later.”

Jane took his raised hand and saw him staring at her expectantly, hand hovering over her waist. For her, slow dancing had lost any intimacy it might have had through tedious classes and banal conversations with dull or uninterested suitors. It was small talk with extra steps, but it appeared to have more weight with Brenner. His reaction made her mouth go dry and she nodded briskly, pressing his hand to her waist.

“Go ahead.”

The two were momentarily silent as they swayed with the music, nearly bumping into an sleepy old couple who listed too closely to them. Jane looked away as the young Commander commented on her recent absence from Zaichaer society.

“Yes, very well. I had been attending classes at the Greater Institute, so much of my time was focused on my studies. Too much of my time, it seemed, since Mother asked that I take a break to become reacquainted with my peers. I supposed she feared I was becoming a hermit.”, she laughed.

In truth, their lack of funds had forced Jane to withdraw, which just so happened to align with her mother's wishes. She wanted to keep all inquiries about her current situation as brief and as vague as possible, dreading the outcome if anything more came to light.

“But as whole, nothing exciting has been going on with me. But what about you? I heard that you escorted a Kalzasern diplomat recently. Is that true?”

[Eitan Angevin]

"Dornkirk," he replied without missing a beat. He had noticed him hone in on his position and chose to maintain it. He hadn't spoken more than a handful of polite words with the man in years; their lives had taken them in different directions and he had always been almost too old to play with Brenner and Eitan when they were young. The heir to the Dornkirk fortune hadn't been unkind, only aloof, and that was to be expected.

"Passing well, thank you. I trust you've been the same, old boy?"

He didn't know whether his father and Stefan's father were still negotiating a marriage between him and Eitan's youngest elder sister, Delia. She was the kinder of the three, at least to her mongrel brother, and the only Angevin of their generation not to have a career in the Air Defense Corps. He had no plans to ask. He would be informed if anything was formalized. Originally, the idea had excited him as the Dornkirks would make excellent brothers-in-law. But things had grown distant with Stefan and strained with Brenner, though things looked to be clearing up now that they were adults.

"We spoke over drinks the day I was officially installed upon the Noble Gambit," he affirmed. "My hands are full with my new assignment, but should there be any movement on the Great Dornkirk Expedition, I will immediately set time aside for research into what dangers we might encounter. It seems a right smashing plan, but without support from the higher ups, well... it will remain a right smashing plan."

Eitan eyed the elder man, assessing him with his new experience as a grown man.

"You don't like parties," he noted. "I remember Brenner and I running off to Trystan's Folly whenever our joint birthday parties became too much about other people. You always knew where to find us, though. At our war games." He chuckled. "It's heartening to know you see me as a friendly face in the crowd. I encourage you to seek me out whenever you require an ally."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The music shifted from lively to more traditional almost as soon as Stefan began his conversation. It meant he didn't have to raise his voice at all to continue it, which was preferable. Taking a place beside Eitan so they were both able to keep their backs to something solid and observe the general goings-on while still speaking to each other he answered as honestly as he could.

No one in his life used affectionate nicknames for him except Brenner and while it was a little odd, and though he knew it was most likely simply what Eitan called peers aboardship when off duty, Stefan found he liked it.

He considered asking about the man's family, specifically about the youngest of his sisters, but decided against it. The off-and-on marriage negotiations had been off again for some time when everyone had reluctantly accepted that Stefan, at twenty-five, was going to dig his heels in and not marry right away. He had graduated from the Battle Academy and spent a year as an officer before his father had gotten him out to study at the Greater Institute as an engineer. Upon graduating with his degree he had convinced everyone that he needed to establish himself in the family business and couldn't spend the time it would take to raise his own family yet. Sometime after there had been news of an engagement between Delia and another gentleman but that had fallen through for whatever reason, hushed up and forgotten by polite society.

Stefan had gotten used to the idea of marrying Delia as a boy, had considered it an honor, and had gotten along with the girl, later young woman, quite well. They had lost touch while he had attended the Academy and spent his year in uniform. Meeting again as adults when he'd come home to study at the Institute had been a little awkward but it had faded into something almost like a friendship. A distant, socially controlled imitation of a friendship, perhaps. Looking at Eitan, who was almost the same age as Delia if he recalled correctly, Stefan wondered if 'young lady' was really the correct term for her anymore.

Certainly past the age when most high society ladies in Zaichaer were married. Her family name, her father's position, would ensure that her prospects and eligibility were unlikely to fade with time but he still felt vaguely guilty. Surely her socially known attachment to him had discouraged many young men from making serious offers. She could have been married with several children by now. He thought that was what she wanted, but of course, she would have to project that idea. For all he really knew she was the one subtly ending each offer for her hand and wished to remain single. The idea that she was secretly and cleverly controlling her own fate amused him and part of him hoped it was true.

He scanned the room for other members of the Angevin family. Not finding any he turned his attention back to the one at his side. He nodded at the inquiry to his health, making a 'fair to middling' face.

"Is that where you're stationed now? She's a good ship. I wouldn't mind hauling her into the Windworks and refitting her with my newer engine designs. Have you seen the Searing Victory?" Of course, the man had seen it, everyone had seen the flagship, but he meant in a more professional way. He was asking if Eitan had had a chance to inspect the ship in the way of men who had both served.

He cracked a smile at the accurate description of Brenner's plan and its chances of becoming reality.

"Indeed, the brass hold all in their hands in the Brass city." It was a saying that was a bit irreverent but which he found apt. "This is Brenner we are talking about though, if anyone can charm his way into getting what he wants..."

The observation about his dislike of parties was at first uncomfortable but it wasn't as if it wasn't something most people knew.

"I don't mind parties, not really." His vocabulary was relaxing, reminders of how they had played as boys and that this person knew Brenner in the same way he did were helping. "I don't like being observed by so many people I don't know. I know their names, where their estates are, but not them." It was impolitic a thing to say, but, considering, he thought Eitan had a good chance to understanding. The offer made him raise a brow.
"That's surprisingly kind of you, Angevin. Particularly considering how I haven't been especially friendly since I left started at the Academy." The two had never shared time in that part of their education due to their age gap and he'd considered himself an adult after graduation. He hadn't ever gone out of his way to be cruel or make things difficult for the other man, he had, in fact, basically forgotten his existence.
"I wish we could run off to the tower right now." He smirked at his own mental image, sipping his drink, "I'd even take my rightful place as lowest man in the hierarchy while we shot down every pidge in the sky tonight."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Jane it is." Brenner said, with a dashing albeit crooked smile. "When mum isn't looking, at least." He added a wink, before casting a sidelong glance toward the elder Farraway. Brenner was, of course, aware of the family's history. His parents were avid students of the local peerage, and had imparted much of that knowledge to their offspring. Melchior, the Dornkirk patriarch, was lowborn and bragged about picking himself up by his bootstraps with ambition and ingenuity to rise to his current state. Lady Sylana, though her past was shrouded in mystery even to her nearest kin, was a daughter of Geleros and had inserted herself into Zaichaeri society upon her arrival over thirty years earlier, utilising her unique mystique to captivate the local hoi aristoi with her foreign fashions and exotic accent. But neither parent was born into this particular social set, and so it was that much more important to be knowledgeable enough about the past to fit seamlessly into the present.

The Farraways, as Brenner understood it, were not unlike the Angevins. An old, old name that had survived through generations of progress in Zaichaer. Except, whereas the Angevins remained in the good graces of their peers as steadfast soldiers in service of the State, the Farraways had fallen out of favour over the past few decades. He didn't know the details as to why, but he'd begun to notice a pattern of complacency in the old families. Generations of nepotistic advancement granted to middling brats with notable names had left many of the old families ill-equipped to catch up to the rapid pace of modern Zaichaer under its current Grand Marshal. He seemed to value loyalty and innovation over dynastic connections or sycophancy. The Dornkirks would likely have never reached this level of renown if not for the coup d'etat that put the Grand Marshal into power.

"Quite right." Brenner's mind returned to the present moment, as Jane consoled him for his missed opportunity to show off his talent for current dance fads. His ostensible disappointment gave way to a modest smile as he brought his hand down to rest upon the waist over which it had been hovering cautiously. His other hand closed around Jane's, and he led her in the inaugural steps of the dance.

"Is that right?" He arched an eyebrow curiously, "And what is your area of study?" He kept his eyes roughly upon his dancing partner, using his peripheral vision to steer clear of other couples.

"Ah!" His eyes lit up at Jane's question about his recent foray as a diplomatic attaché. "You heard correctly! I was taken off duty on the Searing Victory to attend to the visit of the pidge pri-..." He cut himself off, "Forgive me. I oughtn't use such vulgar language in the presence of a lady, I attended to the heir presumptive of Kalzasi. And a harrowing experience it was. But I am the wiser for it. I hope you need never cross paths with such an... unnatural creature."

[Jane Farraway]

Searing 15th, 121. The Hall of Inventors, Zaichaer

“Thank you”, Jane smiled demurely. She was quietly grateful that Brenner Dornkirk had decided to give her his attention this evening. He was esteemed enough to please Carmen, though she hoped that this event would not inspire her mother to insist upon his company too aggressively. If they were to be friends she'd prefer it to be on her own terms rather than through some attempt to acquire political pull.

The initial awkwardness passed as they settled into their dance. It was a soft tune to navigate, so conversation came easily. Jane mentioned her studies and brightened as Brenner inquired further.

“Oh, Biology mainly. My focus was in Botany and Zoology, though I am considering Ecology when I go back. You'd be surprised at all the species of flora and fauna that go undocumented, even within Zaichaer. I do understand the importance of industry but the natural sciences have been somewhat neglected by the State in my opinion. I think many believe the study to be a bit too “wondrous”, what with how many organisms have sprung from the Dreadmists. But that's why I feel it deserves attention, you know? We need to understand these things, understand how they effect our world. Ignoring it brings us no closer to conquering it. Maybe we could even benefit from it in an purely mundane sense, of course. It is a shame--that Kalzasi surpasses us in that regard, but with our resources we could quite easily exceed them. I believe so, at least. Still, it is disappointing that so much of the current research is written in Vallenor--”

Jane noticed how long she had been talking and shook her head, “Pardon me, I'm rambling—I don't mean to bore you.”

She listened intently as Brenner elaborated on his diplomatic adventures and was momentarily puzzled at his sudden apology. Pidge? If it was a slur it was new to her, but she was surprised that he would speak of a foreign dignitary with such irreverence. Granted, his cavalier attitude was part of his charm, but this went beyond the limit of what most would typically tolerate. There was an edge to his voice, like the experience had severely tested his patience.

The Heir Presumptive of Kalzasi. A dawning realization struck Jane and her mind went back to the airship on that fateful day in Glade. It should have been apparent from the start but that creature did not leave the impression of a diplomat or heir. The memory of him, radiant and unyielding, overwhelmed her and she missed a step in their dance. Jane looked up at her partner with wide eyes filled with a dreadful understanding.

“Brenner...”, She paused, taking a moment to collect and articulate her thoughts.

“I have. My mother and I were going to Kalzasi to visit my Aunt. She had connections, arranged it so we would be on his airship leaving Zaichaer. We did not know this at the time. But I saw him. I saw it, Brenner. It was terrifying. That such a being is using a noble to get it's way—I fear for the State. I even fear for Kalzasi.”