Legend of Ransera

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

Jane jumped at Brenner’s enthusiastic response, slightly surprised, but delighted, that he had such an interest. It was rare to receive anything more than a passing acknowledgment of her studies from anyone at these functions. His sentiments fell in line with the Zaichaeri ideal: that the end of all efforts were for the service of the State. She had expected as much. Knowledge for knowledge’s sake was not always appreciated, so she had phrased her interests in a more political light. It made them more palatable to the average socialite. Still, behind his nationalistic fervor there seemed to be a spark of curiosity in his eyes that went beyond sheer practicality.

“That’s incredible! I had no idea the Windworks incorporated Biology into their research. Is your division sponsored by the Institute? I've heard that they've often collaborate with businesses.”

“Suppress or destroy Aether”. The phrase stuck with Jane as Brenner spoke further about his family’s work. It was an intriguing concept but not one that she had seriously considered. It seemed too dangerous. Magic was Aether but Aether was life. The full potential of such an endeavor was concerning. Her main issue with Zaichaer’s avoidance towards the natural sciences had been more a matter of principle than any true effort to compete with Kalzasi, though after her encounter on the airship she was beginning to understand this mindset. It was difficult to believe that it had been anything more than a dream, but the Commander’s testimony had thrust it firmly into reality. She felt like she had to warn him about the true nature of this threat to their people.

Based on his reaction, he understood all too well. To receive such intense and compassionate consolations was incredibly overwhelming, not to mention unexpected. It was always proper, she had been taught, to never fully accept a compliment. To act coy and even embarrassed when attention was brought to oneself, though never to the extreme. Her face, however, blazed with a redness that could not be recovered with niceties as he held her in his embrace. "Refinement, breeding, and apparent patriotism". Refinement and breeding could be assumed of her station, but patriotism? Jane held a tenderness for her nation but she had never considered herself a patriot. Then again, seeing the tensions between Kalzasi and Zaichaer had made her feel strangely defensive in a way that was difficult for her to understand.

A group of ladies noticed them and gave a veiled laugh, their whispers lost in the surrounding din of voices. Growing self-conscious, Jane gently placed a hand on Brenner's chest to give herself some space. Even through his suit she swore she could feel his heart beating furiously. She looked up and saw the steely cast of eyes. It was severe, focused, and chilling. Whatever insult he had suffered from the Prince ran deep.

"No one should know it", Jane said softly, adjusting her spectacles, "That is what I fear. Before this, I always assumed that the conflict between Zaichaer and Kalzasi ran cold. I suppose I was ignorant. I'm not sure what to expect now."

The gravity gave way to a question from Brenner about her studies. His shift confused her but it felt somehow related. She was curious to see where he was going.

"The Institute considered any studies beyond the average varieties of bats, blind fish, lichens, and molds to be too advanced for undergraduates. Field study was absolutely out of the question barring some exceptions so most of it was through lectures. I did manage to do some of my own reading while I had access to the library. They did not have much but what I did find was truly bizarre. It more than piqued my interest, I can say that much."

The mention of Gereon of Geleros, the esteemed naturalist and anthropologist, captured her attention completely and she eagerly agreed to sit at the bar, though the memory of her previous outing still made her stomach churn. She ordered something light and fidgeted with the stem of her glass as she spoke.

“Oh, you would not believe how difficult it is to find his work outside the Institute, much less anyone who's willing to discuss it! I've only found a few of essays but it put so much into perspective. Where do we even begin?!”

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

Jane listened as Brenner talked about the Windworks and the dynamic between he and his brother. How proud their parents must be, she thought, to have one son an inventor and the other an air commander, both serving the State in their own way. It was not surprising that the Dornkirks had made such an impression on Zaichaer society. From what she understood, they were relatively fresh on the scene. Perhaps that's why Brenner had been so warm towards her while the other families kept their distance. They were not yet jaded by generations of rumors and expectations, still thriving from the fruits of their labor rather than sitting on complacent wealth.

“I wouldn't sell yourself short. Inspiration can be difficult, I'm sure, when one is so absorbed in running a business as your brother must be.”

She had not noticed Stefan until Brenner pointed him out, but it seemed to her that he did want to be noticed. Between the lively chatter of powder rooms and the hushed gossip of dining halls, the Dornkirk heir was a popular subject among the ladies. He was handsome, successful, and brilliant, but regrettably unapproachable. Some considered him cold, others thought he was too proud. Regardless, the bachelor had become someone to admire, or resent, from afar—a man whose affections were thought to be too lofty for anyone to obtain. Jane regretfully recalled when her mother caught wind of his seeking a wife. She had written Lady Dornkirk a letter requesting their company for a night at the theatre, but there came no reply. While this insulted Carmen it did not phase Jane. What assets, material or social, did she have to offer? She doubted that he recognized her, much less that he was ever aware of the invitation in the first place.

The gentleman with whom he was speaking seemed vaguely familiar, but she could not place how she knew him. He appeared closer to her in age than either of the brothers. Perhaps an old playmate, one of the many children brought along with guests to the Farraway estate before it was lost? He had a melding of features that reminded her of her half-Hytori cousin aside from the ears. As she studied his dark hair and dusky skin, recognition struck her. It was the Angevin bastard. The half breed. That was how her parents had described him. That was what she had called him when he was excluded from their games. Jane remembered that sunny day in Glade when she and the other children ran off in the garden, giggling as they left the poor boy behind. She smoothed the front of her dress and turned to look at the selection behind the bar as Brenner ordered for them, hoping the memory of that day was long forgotten.

“Just a glass of Riesling for me, please”, Jane nodded at the bartender. She noted the drink that Brenner had ordered, finding it surprising that his tastes were so similar to those at the Hobbled Gobbler. Perhaps Gelerian liquors had a taste that transcended class.

“You seem fond of Gelerian schnapps”, she said with a smile, “I've noticed it's been more popular these days.”

Just as Brenner was about to speak further, an imposing figure descended upon them. Jane paled as he was addressed. Dreyfus Monteliyet. Ever since Glade the Eight his name was well known, and feared, though tensions with the Monteliyets had existed with her family long before that. They were one of the only old families in Zaichaer with whom Carmen did not hold any correspondence. There was some long held injury between the Farraways and Monteliyets, the details of which had been lost to time. All that remained now was a general distrust and disdain. She felt no small amount of panic as Brenner introduced her to the intimidating mage slayer.

This was the first time Jane had ever spoken with a Monteliyet. For all she knew perhaps she was the first Farraway to speak to them in generations. The young woman nodded and smiled, doing her best to mask her nervousness, “A pleasure to meet you, Sir Monteliyet. Thank you for your sacrifice”

It was a canned greeting one might give to anyone from the Order, but it was all she could think to say. It felt underwhelming to say the least, given what little she had heard of his past. Outside of recognizing its service to the State, the Order of Reconciliations was often considered too grisly to be discussed in polite company. Regardless, whispers of morbid gossip still found its way into conversation. Her blood ran cold as she recalled the death of Lady Monteliyet. It was a story that exemplified the degeneracy of mages, one so gruesome that it could scarcely be believed. But now, with the surviving son of that martyr standing before her, it was all too terribly real.

Brenner, for his part, seemed unmoved by Dreyfus, almost purposefully so. He mentioned his “friend's” bizarre “talent” with as much brevity as one might the weather. It really did shock her how casual he could be. All she could do at first was nod weakly in response.

“Yes, that's—a rather unique ability. Quite useful.”, Jane said briskly. Their drinks arrived and she took a sip that was almost too eager.

Though Dreyfus seemed to have approached them in good faith, there was a definite edge between he and Brenner. It was cordial, but wary--too wary for comfort. She glanced over at Stefan and Sir Angevin. They appeared tense, talking quietly to themselves as they subtly observed Dreyfus. A chill ran down her spine. There was something unspoken, something unplaceable, something that wove itself so tightly through the room that it threatened to snap. What it could be, or when that might happen, Jane could not tell. She modestly drank her wine, hoping it would brace her against the undercurrent that ran between these men of the State.