Tour de Force. [Stefan, Florian]

[Eitan Angevin]

79th Searing, 121 Steel
Dornkirk Windworks

Though the invitation had been unofficially made back at the Riverland Festival Opening Night Gala, Searing had been a busy season both for Commander Eitan Angevin and Stefan Dornkirk. And while he was closer to Stefan's brother, Brenner, he hadn't seen much of him either. But duty called and the sons of Zaichaer answered. One of his new responsibilities tagged along with him today, if only because he felt it incumbent upon him both to educate Albrecht with regard to the development of the airships his innate abilities would be made to protect and to train him to act appropriately in various situations so as not to call undue aspersions from his betters. Dornkirk was a name that carried weight these days, both from the successes of its business and its long association with Lir Angevin, but the details of that weren't necessary for the Lysanrin to know.

As they durst not be late, they took a cab from Onneifer Airfield to the Windworks even though both were situated within the West End. In their summer-weight uniforms, at least Angevin looked a proper officer. He didn't know if the uniform would ever suit the Lysanrin, or the Lysanrin suit the uniform, rather. But it indicated to those who saw them that the Air Defense Corps had deemed Albrecht safe and useful, and there was a human there to keep him to heel. Those who looked closer would see the badge on his arm that marked him a Watcher as well, which ought to make them feel doubly safe.

"Best be seen and not heard, Albrecht," he advised. Lysanrin were like children in that. "Answer if he or I ask you a direct question, but otherwise, just take it as a learning experience and an opportunity to blend in. If you absolutely have to volunteer something, get my attention and I'll acknowledge you when it's appropriate. Just pretend he's an admiral."

He got all his last minute admonitions out of the way before they approached the front doors, which were opened for them. In the lobby, he was recognized. Stef must have had the wherewithal to let his people know that Angevin would be on the schedule. They were ushered into a private waiting room and assured that Master Dornkirk would be with them presently.

[Florian]

Florian was not particularly excited for this adventure into the Dornkirk Windworks. If there was one thing he could be near certain of, it was that no one else cared whether or not he belonged there. He followed Eitan like a dog in a heel, not daring to stray too far from his superior lest the fear of an unleashed Lysanrin spring violence into the hearts of someone nearby. Best be seen and not heard. The statement alone was enough to drive Florian into anger, as if the entire intention of this level of society were to undo the trust they had so sought to build. He willed himself into calm, and his eyes stayed blue, but the frustration enough was evident on his face for as long as Eitan looked at him. Seen and not heard. Bullshit.

Perhaps it was for the best. Florian was not educated enough in the matter to ask educated questions, and he did not want to jeopardize anyone's reputation. It was only an unfortunate matter that his actions now seemed to reflect on Eitan. He preferred the man in private. Florian deigned not to reply to Angevin's instruction.

The Lysanrin was a sight to see, even in uniform. The stub of a missing horn that ended in rough cracks, the scar across his nose, even the bruises and tiny scars that marred his knuckles. He already felt that this enterprise would be excellent practice in his endeavor to keep his cool. Seen and not heard. Fuck! Florian was hung up on the phrase, like he'd been child, chided for annoying a guest. He wasn't annoying, and he wasn't stupid, but now he wondered if even Eitan believed the fact.

He so lost in thought that he only just realized they had made it through the doors and he was standing in a small room. Florian took a deep breath - he knew what Eitan wanted. He wanted him to be human, to act human. The very idea was an affront to his nature, and he knew that no matter how human he acted it would not change the immediate reaction to him and his presence.

He'd try his best, though.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

"Master Dornkirk," Dienerin, Stefan's manservant-cum-assistant, spoke in a calm, almost dry tone as he entered his master's office with a perfunctory, single knock, "Commander Angevin has arrived, I put him and his," There was the briefest of pauses, nothing that would have been noticed by anyone who did not know the man's mannerisms as exactingly as his employer. It made Stefan pause in the notation he was making for an adjustment to an engine schematic and look up, raising a brow.

Dienerin flushed, brief and light, like a flash of color more than an actual blush as he went on, "Assistant in your private sitting room. I thought this was appropriate considering the long friendly standing of your families."

Nodding as he stood Stefan buttoned his waistcoat and held his arms at the correct angle for Dienerin to assist him on with his jacket. The servant brushed it down, ensuring all was in place and nothing marred the effect. This was done with practiced efficiency; they did this nearly every day now that the Dornkirk heir had taken over the majority of the Windwork's workings.

"Thank you, Dienerin," He nodded gratitude that was genuine, he would never have gotten through the social parts of his job without the dedication the man showed, "Will you have something sent up? Not tea," It was too early in the day for serious drinking, but it was near to lunchtime and many men had a beer with their midday meal, "A case of the Weissbier I had sent in from that pub I like, chilled, if you please, and some sandwiches. I'll take my lunch during the meeting and get back to work after, no need to send anything up to the office."

The slim servant man nodded, only once, and stepped away with, "Of course, Sir."

Stefan gave no thought to whether the man would follow his instructions exactly, Dienerin had been nothing less than perfect in his service for years now.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the small mirror by the door before he stepped out was an automatic gesture. His assistant would have told him if his hair had been put out of place by careless touch or if his face were smudged by ink.

He relaxed a little out of the formality with which he usually attended meetings with clients, there was, after all, someone he knew, even liked, waiting for him this time. It was also in his private sitting room rather than the much fancier public one intended to impress and suggest to new clients what the options were. Entering without knocking he stepped in and turned with, if not a smile, an open expression toward Angevin and was stuck like that for a long moment as he took in what had caused Dienerin to hesitate when he'd announce the arrival. Blinking himself out of the awkward stare and clearing his throat he stepped forward and held out his hand toward Eitan.

"Commander, welcome to the Windworks." He had intended something much less formal, but he was off-balance now, his skin beginning to crawl as he carefully sectioned off the part of his mind that was listing off the biology and dangers of the Lysanrin race.

A serving maid from the kitchens arrived with a large silver tray upon which was an ice bucket filled with bottles, several kinds of neatly cut sandwiches, mixed nuts, a plate of iced cakes, and assorted other finger foods. Stefan stepped forward and pulled the vase of flowers off the table situated between the chairs and couch and put it on the mantle so the girl could place the food where it would be most convenient. With a curtsey, she left. Stefan used the moment of distraction to compose himself properly and when he turned back to the two men he was able to manage his friendly expression again.

"Eitan, I'm sorry, I'm so used to these meetings being overly formal. Please, sit." Gesturing to the available seats while taking a chair for himself, he did not specifically include the Lysanrin but nor did he exclude him. The man was wearing a full uniform, the kind Stefan knew well had to be earned. Could he have gone to the academy? Surely not, he must have worked his way through basic training and been deemed acceptable. If the state had decided he was worthy then Stefan would not dishonor that decision by being rude.

"I'm afraid I'm having to make this a lunch meeting, I hope you don't mind." He doubted they would, most military men were more than happy to enjoy a free meal, particularly one of higher standards than mess food. "Please join me if you've the appetite."

He put a couple sandwich triangles on a plate to be held in his lap before settling back.

"How are you? Alls well with the Gamit?" They were there to talk about the ship after all, but he did have a growing feeling of comradery with Eitan since they'd met again at the Gala and catching up felt comfortable.

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin grinned broadly when Stefan appeared through the doorway. It was pleasant that the lad who had been too big, too old, and too mature to play with young Brenner and Eitan now saw him as an equal. He shook his hand, his spare set familiarly upon Dornkirk's elbow. Of course, he realized then that he ought to have sent ahead a warning that he would have the Lysanrin experiment in tow; he would have to send an apology later and explain in person when Albrecht wasn't tagging along.

"Master Dornkirk," he greeted in kind. "Thank you for having me."

He too recovered full aplomb while the serving woman set out refreshments, admiring her, though he thought not too openly. Knowing Stefan could be thrown by social situations more easily than his younger brother, he was relieved when the man smiled. He sat and indicated Albrecht should too, albeit farther away from the important personage than himself. He didn't want Albrecht ruining Stefan's digestion.

"Please, I'm still young and active enough that I always seem to be hungry and 'tis the hour of day for it." Indicating Albrecht briefly, he added, "This is Private Florian Albrecht. He's been assigned to the Noble Gambit as a member of the Corps and further, the Order has me watching to ascertain whether Lysanrin siphoning can be safely used to bolster wards." Of course, magic was hardly polite luncheon conversation, but he thought he ought to get things out of the way so they could have a more civilized conversation. "The airship has survived nearly a whole season with me as its XO so I will call that a win." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "A spot of trouble at an outpost recently, but nothing we couldn't handle. Business has you busy, it seems. All's well, though?"

[Florian]

Florian's expression remained neutral, but he side-eyed Eitan — sorry, Commander Angevin — even as he sat down a healthy distance away. Bastard. He was annoyed, frustrated, and certainly confused as to Angevin's reasons for bringing him with, and he did not give a shit about the upper echelons of society and the niceties that were required within it. And yet, he behaved. It was less that he cared about being thrown out or arrested, and more that he did, truly, care about Eitan, and he didn't want to be an embarrassment to the man who surely had more reasons than what he'd told Florian for inviting him along.

He stayed quiet. He had immediately decided he wouldn't touch the food that had been set out before them unless Angevin — or Dornkirk — told him to directly, and he had his doubts. His eyes stayed their natural blue for now, but there was a distinct tension in his shoulders and the way he sat. Stiff. He was as uncomfortable as Dornkirk, and he was seething. It was this scenario that made him hate his decision to join the Air Defense Corps, but he had no idea what he was getting himself into. He had no idea that he would be used as an experiment, and he had no idea that he would feel things for Eitan Angevin. But they weren't in private like they had been, and Florian could not act like himself outside of it.

It was difficult to find himself a respectful place to rest his eyes. Briefly, he wondered about resorting to staring at the Master Dornkirk, but he settled on his hands, only looking up when the man they had come to meet started talking. The indication of the situation at the outpost as a spot of trouble was an interesting summary, but Florian kept such commentary to himself.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The friendly greeting and jovial conversation helped restore his equilibrium more than most things would have.

"Private." He greeted after the introduction, nodding to Albrecht not as curtly as he might have before having had an explanation of his entry into the ZADC. His expression was, in fact, interested more than anything else.

"How fascinating." He sounded as if he meant it, "How is that going? I must say, I am glad the leadership of the Order is allowing for such tests, it shows a willingness to reach for the future, find real solutions." He took a bite of his sandwich and then shook his head,

"Forgive me, please, eat, both of you, and oh, hmm," Reaching into his waistcoat pocket he pulled out a silver bottle opened with his initials on it and leaned forward long enough to open three of the cold beers. "Have a drink, it's simple stuff but really quite good. I can have a couple with lunch and not lose my head for the rest of the workday. Quite refreshing this time of year."

He took his own and had a long pull, not caring when a few drops of icemelt fell onto his plate. Relaxing was much easier, even in the current company, when Stefan was being given several of the things he liked best; the company of someone he knew and still liked, a simple meal without ceremony, and a topic that interested him.

The elder Dornkirk had run into several of his own 'spots of trouble' in the years he'd spent serving on the ships he would later learn to build. "Misting rebels? I've heard about the troubles at the border. Not new, I suppose, but senseless nonetheless. You taught them some respect I've no doubt." He lifted his bottle in a salute that might have included both men.

"I'm glad you brought her back in one piece, I wouldn't want to have to fit her back together before I can even start on the upgrades. Have the Brass brought you up to speed on what they've asked for?"

[Eitan Angevin]

"Thank you," he said, and took a pull of his own beer. "Quite good, quite good. Albrecht pulled his weight. We offloaded cargo at the outpost and moored for the night. Mages tried to burn her where she rode the air, but the wards held. Albrecht didn't trust my ward and walked in between me and a fireball, ate it like it was nothing. Quite helpful in the dark, as well. He could see which ones were channeling aether, allowing us to focus our fire from behind my ward, which... well, with his help, I built it up into a veritable barricade. The wounded got behind it and we managed not to lose many. Any loss is a loss too many, but we had to evacuate the wounded so I wasn't there to investigate why the outpost commander didn't have the area under better control."

He shrugged. The fact that they were ambushed still bothered him, but the investigation wasn't his responsibility. Perhaps Captain Merovech would let him know if something came of it; the CO had more authority to demand answers from the infantry than Angevin did.

And he clearly didn't mind sharing the glory. The jury was still out on whether Albrecht would prove himself, but Angevin's assessment thus far was that he could be an asset to the Corps. If he could offer someone like Stefan Dornkirk various ways in which he could be helpful, then that was one more person who might extol the possibilities of integrating Lysanrin into the fabric of their society and one less who would vote for their extermination.

After all, there was a mission coming up and if Angevin was going, Albrecht might have to come along. But they were still playing some cards close to the chest and that was one of them.

"Captain Merovech showed me the preliminary plans, but I know there has been some communication back and forth that I haven't been a party to. He has made some noises that he'll want me to liaise with you, though. I'm guessing he wants a bit of a holiday while the work is being done, and he'll inspect when things are closer to finished."

[Florian]

The feeling in the air changed to the tune of popped bottlecaps. Florian took the bottle, and a sandwich, and he felt instantly more relaxed. His anger subsided even further as Angevin then took the time to explain his assistance in the ambush. To have the wary curiosity, even if not acceptance, of a man of such seeming importance as Stefan Dornkirk felt substantial. He wondered if Angevin considered it so. He made no comment on the recounting of events - it was accurate, if it was not even more favorable to Florian than he felt he deserved.

Florian paid close attention to their conversation and took a sip. He almost felt more awkward as the tension left his shoulders and he followed up the beer with a bite of sandwich. He was tempted to ask questions. Angevin's mantra of 'be seen and not heard' disappered as he swallowed his bite.

"What's being upgraded?" He leaned a bit into the conversation, his eyes labeled with the indigo stain of curiosity. Drive. Competition. Leave it to him to make a competition out of everything. He glanced at Angevin for just a second and wondered if he'd notice. He'd seemed particularly interested in the colors of his eyes. And then, Florian looked back at Dornkirk and began to draw conclusions from the air. Eitan was clearly familiar, friends, even with this man, and he figured that such upgrades were not entirely universal for similar airships, or else they would surely be more well known to the XO. Florian was unsure of why the Noble Gambit would be getting upgrades, but at that moment, he was not afraid of making a fool of himself if he asked a stupid question.

"Is it something more routine, or is it special?" He was no engineer, of course, but he felt if anyone was going to discuss something secret in plain air, it would be wealthy military assholes. If Eitan had any misconceptions about Florian, it was that he wouldn't be just as bold with the Admiral as he would this man in his private office. Station and rank and power only went so far for him, and now that he had been addressed directly by Dornkirk, he was ready to ignore the pointed instructions he had been given.

What was Angevin going to do, get him killed for this? Chide him like a child? Florian didn't particularly care for the consequences if it meant sating his curiosity.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan was a good listener, better than he was at making his own speeches anyway. The tale Eitan was telling was thrilling in the simple style of those used to combat. The elder man had seen similar skirmishes in his own years in the uniform and while he didn't miss them, per se, he still saw them in the spirit of adventure rather than horror. 

"Bastards," He shook his head, "Getting bold as bronze, or, desperate." The latter seemed more likely as he thought about it, a little frown forming between his brows. "What could the point have been? The supplies? Raiding the outpost would surely have been easier without the Gamit right above it."
The idea that they might have simply wanted revenge, to kill as many ZADC personnel as possible came to him but he didn't voice it. The trend of increasing aggression from the borders was certainly concerning but there would be better times to talk about it. No need to frighten a private, Stefan could talk to Eitan later in private if it needed further discussion.

His eyebrows rose as the dramatic heroics of the young private were expounded upon and his focus shifted briefly to the boy. It was sometimes hard to remember that Lysanrin didn't actually use magic, in the traditional sense. They were so connected in idea to the use of magic that many citizens of Zaichaer didn't know the difference. Stefan had run into several research logs concerning the study of the race and their potential use in controlling or combating magic. Based on the presence of the private it seemed someone high up in the military hierarchy had read them too. He assumed the Order was well aware. The urge to ask questions that might, or might not, be considered polite by the young man welled up in Stefan but he suppressed them for the moment. This was business, and he didn't want to step on Eitan's toes as it was obvious he had been assigned responsibility for the experiment. Perhaps after business had been concluded...
He was just turning to answer the Commander's question when he was unexpectedly interrupted by the new voice. Blinking in a perfect representation of refined surprise he turned to look at Albrecht and started back minutely at the realization that his eyes had changed color. 

"Uhm," He cleared his throat, looked to Eitan for a moment as though to find an answer there, and then regained his oft-slipping composure. 
Looking between the two so his answer was directed to both he said,
"The engines are my main upgrade intention but part of the reason you are here, "He nodded to Eitan, "Is to discuss with me anything else that might assist in efficiency or, ehem," He hesitated only slightly to bring up the Commander's sacrifice,"Your abilities. I have some ideas about placing the holding studs so you might situate your wards between them for better, uninterrupted coverage? I haven't actually spoken to anyone with your ability about it so I might just be spitting into the wind with that."
He took a long drink, settling into one of the only things he was truly comfortable talking about.
"It's a bit of both," He addressed Albrecht's question directly, "actually. The upgrades are special in that I haven't done them on any ship yet. The technology is standard on newer vessels but it is only this season we got the contract to start retrofitting the older fleet. I am hoping the upgrades will become standard. The stabilization and greater maneuverability are, in my opinion, significant enough to save lives in combat situations and greatly increase safety during inclement weather situations."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

The door to Stefan's private sitting room swung open, and a man entered holding a book aloft that obscured his face, though a full head of telltale dirty blonde hair was visible above the binding. The words that emerged from behind the tome sounded more like the continuation of a thought than anything approaching a greeting.

"...And, as I've said, as long as we have a means of following their food source, we'll be better situated to find a specimen. And right here on page 358 of 'A Brief History of the Sundering' it says, and I quote: 'The potency of the conflagration Diraegon triggered on that fateful day cannot be overstated in terms of-...'" It was at this point that Brenner bumped his shin into a table and whipped the book down to scowl at the offending piece of furniture. Muttering a Kathalan curse, he softened at the sight of food.

"Ooh! Sandwiches." He leaned down to snag half of a sliced wurst sandwich, which he promptly took a bite of as he finally regarded his surroundings. His crooked smile was particularly disproportionate given the large bite he'd taken that puffed out his cheeks as he offered a nod to Stefan, then glanced sidelong to note Eitan was there as well. His eyes widened at the pleasant surprise. He was passing pleased to see his captains conferring- presumably about the expedition to come. He leaned back down toward the table to claim a napkin, and that was when he caught sight of another figure in his periphery. He turned to get a direct look at the figure and-...

"Heilige Scheiße! Was ist das?!" Even those in the room who spoke Kathalan would have struggled to understand the utterance, as his mouth was still full of bread and cured meat, but the intent was plain enough irrespective of language comprehension. He stumbled a few steps back, choking slightly on the last bit of his purloined pabulum. He grabbed Stefan's water to wash it down and clear out his throat, by which point he'd had the time to register the creature a bit better. Based on the odd, inhuman complexion and the cranial protrusions, he recalled an illustration from one of Gereon of Geleros' bestiaries, though he struggled to recall the exact nomenclature.

"Lice-rancid?" He asked of Stefan, who was seated beside where Brenner now stood- It was a comfortable distance from which to inspect the creature with academic curiosity and nary a word to address the beast directly. "Fascinating!" He gaped unabashedly, as he slowly lifted the sandwich to his lips, which parted to claim another bite.