The Games We Played as Boys [Brenner]

[Eitan Angevin]

28th Searing, 121 Steel

It wasn't exactly as it had been when they were boys, but then, they were no longer boys. While the Searing Victory and Noble Gambit were both floating protectively over Zaichaer proper, Dornkirk and Angevin were often thick as thieves. The club had been amusing for a time, but then Brenner wanted to speak more about his plans for Kalzasi and its mages and they had needed somewhere else to talk. Eitan had been a touch surprised to find how far toward the wrong side of town his companion wanted to go, but had gamely kept pace. This taproom had led to that bar and Brenner kept a witty narrative going describing the places and the people they encountered. For Eitan, it felt good to be in cahoots, sharing conspiratorial smiles and judgments.

But Brenner had that look about him of feet itching to wander.

It was growing late and they were growing rumpled, but shore leave was shore leave and it was best to get these things out of the system when possible so they could be exemplars when it counted.

Dark eyes raked Brenner's face, calculating.

"Where to next, old sport?" he asked. He might not have known the answer, but he knew they would be charting their course for someplace with potent potables or pretty women or, preferably, both. It often felt as though Brenner thought he needed to teach his younger companion about the world as if they were still children, but Eitan laughed off any sense of condescension as his friend's generous spirit. The rough patch was in the past. He looked human now, and acted human. He thought as a human thought and felt capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with men like Brenner in defense of his home.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"The Godless Temple." Brenner replied, without missing a beat. He tipped his head down and grinned darkly at his younger drinking buddy. He was sure that he'd taken Eitan there in years past. At least as sure as he was of anything that happened in the murky haze of inebriation that always preceded a trip to the seedy venue. At times it felt almost like some mythical place out of legend that only appeared when the moon was full, except in the cast of The Godless Temple the mists only parted to reveal it when the pilgrim was tipsy enough.

He melted off his barstool and rolled up the bishop sleeves of his cream coloured, blousy shirt and tugged at the bottom of the bronze brocade waistcoat he wore, with its complex design of interlocking, tesselated diamond shapes. The boots he wore might have appeared, at first glance, to be standard military issue, but another military man or a keen eye might note the tilt of the heel and the platform affording him three more inches in height than nature had granted- closing the vexing gap between his stature and Eitan's.

He marched toward the door, running a hand through his hair and wantonly bumping shoulders with a patron on their way into the bar they were leaving, sending the other man stumbling slightly. Brenner shot a glare toward the stranger, who elected to hold his tongue rather than griping about the affront. The Air Commander sneered and made his way out onto the street, turning left to lead their way toward the promise of mischief.

"I popped by with Stefan a few months back." Brenner cast over his shoulder, "It had been years since I'd been there, but you'd never know it. Old Gormund is still behind the bar getting everyone's names wrong, and there's still that air of something amiss going in whatever corner the shadows hang longest. It almost feels like as service to the community to hang about in such places... Just in case someone needs to intervene on behalf of the State."

[Eitan Angevin]

"More libations at the Godless Temple," he proclaimed and chortled. The irony wasn't lost on him. Then he got in his head for a moment trying to remember if that counted as irony or was some other literary device.

The Order had trained him to read and think critically, to pay attention to details, as that would help him identify and track malefici. When he applied those skills in military service, it felt more like spycraft, which didn't bother him at all. Zaichaer needed good intelligence always to keep ahead of its enemies, foreign and domestic. When he applied those skills while drinking with Brenner, he was just amused to note how thick the soles of his boots were. He ought to feel threatened — Eitan would be the whetstone that kept him sharp, and vice versa.

Eitan shot a sharp glance over Brenner's shoulder at the offending patron of the bar. Perhaps it was the threat of two drunken officers that calmed him down. In any case, they were both dressed as civilians, but still walked — stumbled — with military bravado. His own civvie weeds were soberer than Brenner's, following the mold of his father's old money sensibilities. Only new money called attention to itself. His curls weren't slicked down, though, and the summer heat added a bit of glistening to his cheeks.

"Oh, I saw Stefan at the Festival..." He followed his compatriot out into the street. Though the air wasn't exactly cool, it was bracing after being indoors with so many people. He unlaced his shirt a bit to help him breathe, fluffing the collar a bit as if that would change the reality of the weather. He trailed off, though, having a difficult time remembering where he was going with that. He hadn't blacked out at the festival and likely wouldn't blackout tonight, but making connections was a bit more difficult than normal.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Oh?" Brenner cast a mild glance over his shoulder, as they trod the sidewalk. "I hope he wasn't a cunt to you." The younger Dornkirk had recently chided the elder for speaking ill of the bastard of Angevin. Brenner had been duly impressed of his fellow Air Commander's comportment when they reconnected at Eitan's promotion party.

"We'll all be working together, if my will triumphs and this expedition happens in earnest, so I'll need my team to be on speaking terms at the bare minimum." He sounded as though he was already playing the role of captain, even if there was a great deal of planning yet to be executed before the venture came to fruition.

The Godless Temple was no great distance from their prior drinking venue. It was almost as if Brenner had intended to go there this whole time- Itching for something, he knew not what. Glade had been a watershed season in the life of the young patriot. After the inauspicious outset of Glade the 8th traumatised the city and Brenner personally, who bore witness to the terrorism and participated in putting down at least a few of the assailants, then came the Kalzasern envoy and all the complications that implied. Foremost, was the violation Brenner endured at the hands of some Siltori sorceress whose influence had softened Brenner's resolve to the point that he allowed a member of the delegation in his charge to be abducted right out from under his nose. It was a humiliating incident to be interrogated over on top of being a horrific defilement of his pure, hitherto unenchanted person. No matter how roughly he scoured his skin in the hottest of baths, he could not remove to tingling sensation of something changed in his flesh that would never be the same... never be pure again. It had left him with a roiling anger ever bubbling beneath his sneering surface. Anger that had yet to brim over, though it was ever just brimming to the edge of its strident vessel.

"Gormund!" He called across to the old barman with a grin, "Two shots of Gelerian schnapps and two mugs of your best bitter!"

"Coming right up, Bryan!" Gormund called back without losing the integrity of his famously perpetual grimace.

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan laughed. "Not at all. At least, he was polite. He may or may not personally like me, but I know him well enough. We can work together, especially for the good of the State."

The mongrel wasn't so worried about Stefan Dornkirk. He might put on his father's airs, but if Eitan could prove himself to Brenner, then he was certain Stefan would eventually see his worth.

The place was not one he would have expected Brenner to enjoy. His father's voice sneered about upstart families finding their natural levels without people like him lifting them up, but Eitan was more generous in his estimation, thinking that Brenner's connection with the lower classes made him want to keep his fingers to the pulse of the State, even its low-class members. That sort of charity ought to be a virtue, but the Admiral was a member of the old guard and sometimes there was no pleasing him.

"Thank you kindly, Grimace!" he called after Gormund, deciding that he would find out whether the man could take as good as he gave. He laughed and sidled up next to Brenner. "If only Kalzasi was a protectorate of Zaichaer. We could have summer houses on that great lake to keep cool." His mourning was an act, of course, though he wouldn't have minded a good dunking in cool water. It kept hot heads from causing civil unrest—not that he was a hot head or liable to cause civil unrest, but there was a reason so many of the airships were docked at Zaichaer.

"Dual weilding our spirits tonight, eh, Dornkirk?" He laughed. It was going to be one of those nights, but they were still young men, so boys will be boys was likely still true when on shore leave.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"I should hope so." Brenner replied, inclining his head with a resolute nod. In truth, he wasn't concerned about Stefan overcoming his enmity. He'd softened on the matter as soon as Brenner protested and, though Stefan was the elder, Brenner was more the cynosure of the two siblings.

"Name's Gormund." The the humourless barkeep grunted in correction, as the shot glasses were slammed down before the two soldiers. He tilted the schnapps bottle in a sloppy pour that wet the bar top as well as brimming over the top of both glasses.

"Endurance training." Brenner amended. "A man who can't hold his liquor isn't fit to lead." That sounded like a lesson that had been instilled long ago and Eitan knew enough about his upbringing to recognise that it had likely come from one of his parents. Brenner was a momma's boy, so perhaps the other Air Commander would deduce that the notion's origin was Lady Sylana. She was the more practised courtier, and the more politically inclined of the two Dornkirk parents.

Gormund returned with two mugs of ale, sliding them across the bar to the two best dressed and cleanest-looking gents in his establishment. Brenner placed down a bit of coin and in the same fluid gesture, lifted his shot and held it aloft toward Eitan.

"To Conquering Kalzasi and commandeering stately country homes along their waterways for Searing skinny dipping." Clink. He downed the schnapps and winced as it slid down his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook it off. When his eyes shot open, he thought he saw a flash of something in his periphery and his face snapped to that direction, where two young men, roughly the same age as Brenner and Eitan, were seated at a table ostensibly playing a card game. He arched a brow as he noticed a dull glow to the pair of eyes that darted up to meet his briefly, before snapping back down to his hand of cards. Brenner scanned across his pale profile and took note of pointed ears, as well. He narrowed his eyes as he cast his gaze toward the other cardplayer and scanned his features. He might have been human, but with the cut of his muttonchops and the thick forest of hair protruding from the V-neck he wore, Brenner suspected he might have been a Rathari of some sort. Brenner's nostril's flared slightly, and he returned his attention to Eitan and ale.

"Couple of shady characters at seven o'clock." He whispered.

[Eitan Angevin]

"That's what I said," he said innocently to Brenner while Gormund was off fetching their bitters. "Grimace."

With a grin, he toasted and tossed back the shot. It burned, making skinny dipping in Lake Udori sound all the more enticing. Alas, such shenanigans were allowable for cadets, but not for high-ranking officers such as themselves. Ah, the burden of being on a pedestal for good behavior. His smile soured as Brenner's whisper curled in his ear, his gaze coming down upon an elf and one of the beastly creatures that aped humanity. He felt a choleric tide rising within him, though he did naught but sneer at them.

To Brenner, "Best keep an eye on them lest they stir up trouble. Even this class of citizens deserves protection from others."

Even so, he felt his rune tingling as he instinctively activated it. Non-humans tended to bring magics with them, and he could be much quicker on the defensive should magic be leveled at him if his rune was primed. But he turned his gaze upon Brenner more closely then. Of those present, only Brenner knew his shames. It seemed he ought to take a trusted human friend's guidance in this. A part of him didn't want to cause trouble, nor have Brenner think too hard about Eitan's own connection with degenerate blood, but another part of him wanted to start something, to instigate a situation where the card players revealed their ill intent and baser natures, the better to prove himself a loyal son of Zaichaer.

"What's the play, Air Commander?" he asked. It occurred to him to ask Grimace some questions about those particular patrons. If he knew what was good for him, he would comply. But Eitan was used to being out in the field and so he would defer to Brenner who had been on duty within the city more than he had himself.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner grunted at Eitan's snobbishness in mentioning 'this class of citizens', sensitive to the fact that he was in the first generation of Dornkirks who weren't born into this class of citizen. Still, his mind was far too fixed on the dodgy element behind them to dwell in umbrage. There were like to be far greater offences to brook than run of the mill classism.

"Just be vigilant." He instructed, softly as he swiveled his chair to cheat his body toward Eitan so he could get a cleaner line of sight on the cardplayers. "As airmen we are agents of the State and dutybound to uphold the laws of the Fatherland within the borders of Zaichaer. If they so much as sneeze pixie dust, we're within our rights to act as de facto police." Eitan knew the laws as well as Brenner, but probably hadn't had as much occasion to implement them. It wasn't so long ago that Brenner exerted his rights to detain a rat-like Rathari straight out of his nightmares for questioning after she slithered out of this very bar. This was his first visit since that incident, and he was already primed to act on the State's behalf again. But there was a new and dangerous element this time for Brenner: He had an audience.

The hirsute cardplayer turned his head sharply to glare at the two plainclothes air commanders. He bared his teeth, which Brenner noted were sharper and longer than those of a human, thus confirming his suspicion about the creature.

"What're you pair of ponces prattling about over there?" He growled in a voice of grit and gravel. "Don't think I don't see you glancing over here. You aren't slick."

"Just... leave them be, Yergen." The Elf with the luminous eyes pleaded, his eye twitching in a few involuntary spasms probably brought on by nerves. He placed his cards face down on the table and leaned across to whisper sharply to the Rathari, "This is our last night in Zaichaer and I'd prefer it weren't our last night on Ransera, yeah?"

Brenner cocked an eyebrow and slid off the stool, taking three, languid steps toward the cardplayers.

"Who're you calling a ponce? You look like a gorilla playing dress up." The Air Commander sneered, holding his hands out to his sides- the right one hovering over the sidearm holstered under the blousing of his shirt.

[Eitan Angevin]

A terse nod was all he offered in response to Brenner's instruction; the man should know he need say nothing more and Eitan would back him. The Rathari called out, belligerent as was the wont of his bestial race; the elf sought to calm him, clearly a more sophisticated attempt at skulduggery. They would not succeed. Brenner advanced and Eitan remained only a half-step behind and to his right. Instead of indicating his sidearm, however, he merely carried his mug along with him, which could easily be broken over a thick skull, his other hand prepared to anchor a general shield against magic—not specific, but enough to negate at least a couple of magical attacks unless these rogues be powerful mages.

"Aye, listen to your friend, Yergen," he taunted, turning the man's name into an insult. Cropped ears remained keen. "Keep your tail between your legs around your betters lest someone take it home as a trophy."

His lip curled, but he didn't speak further, instead concentrating on the preparation of a shield—circular, much like a proper buckler attached to his arm, anchored to the cuff of his shirt. He was only priming the thing, a proper ward against any sort of magic, which was broad so not as strong, but waited to fully manifest it until a clearer threat presented itself. Sometimes, his wards would be visible to the naked eye, especially if he was rushed or attempting something near the limits of his cursed power.

But Brenner was calling them on their shenanigans. It would make for a cleaner case, should this come before anyone in authority, if they did not present the appearance that they were anticipating a battle royale. But this filth needed to vacate the premises and vacate Zaichaer entirely. That they hadn't yet was an oversight that could be corrected if they proved themselves false as hell.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

The burgeoning tension of an impending standoff was palpable- rippling out from their location like ripples in a pond as other patrons hushed, some heading straight for the door and others watching the scene with unabashed interest.

"Oi! What's going on over there? I don't want any trouble!" Gormund snapped. Brenner tilted his head to one side, though his eyes remained fixed on the suspicious pair at the card table and called over his shoulder.

"I am Commander Dornkirk of the ZADC Searing Victory. This is Commander Angevin of the Noble Gambit. We are invoking our Right of Cohortes Urbanae to question these shady characters in the immediate absence of a constabulary presence."

"What the fuck?" Yergen growled, confounded.

"If there is a good Samaritan present who would like to send out an alarum to the police, the State would be appreciative. In the meanwhile..." He eyed the Rathari up and down, "We're going to need you two to stay put and explain your business in Zaichaer."

Yergen shot out of his chair, which flew back and slammed into a wall with a loud clangour. In the time it took for the Rathari to rise to his imposing height, Brenner drew his sidearm and aimed it for the large beast's chest. There were shouts from other patrons and a few ran for the door. One voice could be heard calling for the police in the distance.

"Yergen!" The Elf held both hands out toward the Rathari and looked at him pleadingly, "Yergen, please, don't do anything stupid! Mister, um... Commander Dornkirsch-..."

"Kirk. Dornkirk." Brenner corrected, eyes locked on those of the seething creature baring its teeth but holding its ground across from him. Brenner's nostrils flared as he glared at Yergen, waiting... internally begging for an excuse to pull the trigger.

"Commander Dornkirk, Yergen and I were just playing some cards. We're only passing through on our way to Ecith. We don't want any trouble. We can... Just leave a nice hefty tip for the barkeep, head back over to the pension house and turn in for the night so we can leave your fair city all the earlier tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

"I guess you're the Organ Grinder, huh?" Brenner replied after a beat. "Where are you coming from and what is your business in Zaichaer?"