Albatross [Florian]

[Eitan Angevin]

56th Searing, 121 Steel

"At will, Pvt. Albrecht can add the aether that he has absorbed into the weave of a magical activity that he encounters. Normally, as you know, a mage must bear a Cardinal Rune in order to perform this feat, and typically, it must be of the same rune they are attempting to join. Lysanrin do not suffer this limitation. Those that do must be cautious, for once they have finished burning through the magical aether they have absorbed, they will begin burning their own stores of natural vitality.

It is expected, of course, that you will make regular reports of Pvt. Albrecht's skills as they develop, as well as ensuring that he follows all protocols of the Order of Reconciliation in addition to those of the Air Defense Corps. Your captain may be briefed with all necessary information, but remember that he is not a member of the Order.

Enclosed please find a copy of Pvt. Albrecht's dossier.

Good luck, Warden Angevin.

Hail, Victory!"

And it was dictated by someone rather important in the Order, which gave Eitan pause as he considered, looking also at the files that had been forwarded to him from the Air Defense Corps. Of course, it was right that this responsibility fall to him as executive officer, leaving their commanding officer, the captain of the ship, free to field more important matters. All the same, he wondered whether this Lysanrin private was assigned here because of Commander Angevin's liminal heritage.

In any case, he took the files and set them neatly where they belonged. He had a filing system that was quite impressive, he thought, and then took a moment to reseal the wards over them. It wasn't that he didn't trust his crew, but as a Warden, he answered to more than just the Captain. Then he quit his berth and strode down the corridor of the Noble Gambit to emerge onto the deck.

Pvt. Albrecht looked much as he had in the sketch provided, broken, scarred, and alien. Eitan told himself that he could respect that, having come up through some opposition himself despite his father's name—in some ways, it was worse to be his acknowledged mongrel bastard, though. Perhaps he could help this pitiable creature fit into the Air Defense Corps, though he would have to take his measure first.

"Permission to come aboard, sir," said the sergeant accompanying Pvt. Albrecht to the Noble Gambit.

"Permission granted." And then he waited for them to board and for the Lysanrin to present himself for inspection from the ship's XO.

[Florian]

To say Florian was nervous was an understatement. Enlisting was his attempt at earning the respect of his peers, and to learn that he was placed upon a ship with someone who not only was part of the Zaichaer Air Defense Corps but the Order of Reconciliation was a terrifying concept for this particular Lysanrin. Stepping onto the deck of the Noble Gambit, he felt...alien. Strange. And some part of his consciousness told him that it was going to be just as bad as the outside. He steeled himself - he was Pvt. Albrecht, after all, and at the very least he could feel secure in the fact that he would not be outright killed.

He could not quite meet the eyes of Angevin without craning his neck, and instead stared at a nail, jutting out just a bit more than the rest of them just behind the XO. The gnawing at the pit of his stomach refused to be quelled, but Florian stood still. It was far too late to back out of this now, but he couldn't help but think he had made a mistake in some way. The ZADC and his own morals did not align, and neither did most of his skills. And to reveal himself was certainly a death sentence - but he couldn't help but feel that maybe he already had. He did not easily blend into a crowd. How much did they know about him? Was he as good at keeping secrets as he thought he was?

Regardless, Florian was here now, and in no immediate, life-threatening danger. Perhaps, he thought, it was simply the fear of the reactions his new crewmates would have of him. Whether they be hostile or ignore the Lysanrin, it was nothing he hadn't handled before. He just had to mind himself, and pretend that the uniform he wore was enough to make anyone else believe that he belonged.

What he did manage to see of Eitan was enough to tell him that this was not the assignment he was expecting. The XO seemed younger than he ought to have been, though he had no real frame of reference for such a fact. He was human, which aligned with his expectations, and while he seemed strong, he had a delicate face. While Florian considered his own features to be delicate, he had a running theory that such a face was not to be trusted. If he were a stranger, he wouldn't dare trust himself.

All the while his thoughts raced, Florian stood still and stared.

[Eitan Angevin]

Commander Angevin ambled a slow circle around the new recruit, who was facing forward and had saluted well enough for someone just through basic training. He nodded to the sergeant.

"Dismissed, Sergeant." The man saluted crisply, turned on his heel, and debarked.

"Pick up your duffel, Private," he said. "I'll show you to your berth."

He turned and led the way back belowdecks.

"I am your XO, Commander Angevin. I'm also your Warden from the Order of Reconciliation. It is unlikely you will interact with the Captain, and so you will follow the chain of command, but I am the one keeping an eye on you. To wit, I am responsible for you. If you deviate from accepted behaviors, I will be responsible for that. I can be your best friend in this corps or I can be your worst enemy. The choice is largely yours."

He ducked into a berth, smaller than his own though it had six bunks.

"Officer on deck!" alerted one of three airmen currently in the room. The porthole windows were opened to let in the breezes; airships thankfully smelled much better than the bilge of a sea craft or so he was told.

"At ease," he said and swept the room and its occupants with a critical gaze. The Noble Gambit was a swift ship and so was on call to make emergency journeys as the need arose; there was leisure time, but they could be called into action at any moment. "Men, this is Private Albrecht. Get him situated with a locker and a bunk. Show him the ropes. I'll be back once you're settled in to answer any questions you might have."

Albrecht's soon-to-be bunkmates were stoic now. They respected their XO's authority. But they were brimming with many things: curiosity, cruelty, camaraderie. Time would tell which were leveled at Albrecht.

"Boys," he said, and saw himself out.

[Florian]

Florian was thrown to the wolves. He knew that Commander Angevin knew it would not be a warm welcome, but he couldn't expect the slew of insults hurled at him to be held at bay by the presence of someone in charge forever. No, perhaps even a few seconds before the XO made it out of ear-shot, they began their process. He knew it was never that good for a new recruit, but he felt it unlikely he'd make it out unscathed. That was fine. The Lysanrin had been in plenty of scraps before, but not one that may be held with such repercussions.

The tallest one - almost a half foot bigger than Florian, but not quite as tall as the Angevin - was clearly sizing up the small Lysanrin. He looked at the man next to him. "So they're just letting anyone in these days?"

Florian shifted uncomfortably, and looked around. He couldn't immediately tell which of the bunks was free, which meant he relied on them to tell him. Shit. "Which of the bunks is open, then?" He asked. His voice was soft, a softness expected from his frail appearance, but he funneled every bit of confidence he held in his body into it.

"What's your name, then?" The man standing to the left of the tallest was only a few inches taller than Florian, a welcome reprieve from this airship of apparent giant humans. He took a few steps around the Ashborne, sizing him up. Florian tried to relax his body language, but his free hand stayed clenched at his side.

"Private Albrecht. What's yours?" He replied. Politeness rarely got him far, and yet he still attempted.

"Albrecht? That's a Zaichaerian name. What's your real name?" He asked, stopping and pushing a finger into the Lysanrin's chest. He simply smiled in response.

"Bunk? Locker?" He asked, still forcing himself to keep from stuttering. He wasn't doing a great job.

The three men shared a look, and then pointed to a bunk and a chest at the foot of it. Florian inclined his head, moved over to the bed, set his duffel bag next to it, and leaned down to open the chest—

And was promptly kicked in the back and knocked over the chest. He rolled off of it and ended up on his back, sore as shit from the impact. The three of them stood over him, jeering comments that Florian did not bother to hear. He pulled himself to a sitting position, and then slowly stood up...and pushed the chest of the man closest to him.

[Eitan Angevin]

The airmen knew they were treading a thin line. There was hazing in the military academy that put out officers as well as the basic training that put out mere grunts such as themselves. They couldn't put him in the infirmary, and they were going to have to rely on him to pull his weight when the time came—and it would come. But they wanted him cowed, to know his place, and there were plenty of people who thought the Lysanrin had no place in Ransera, let alone Zaichaer.

The big one cracked his knuckles. It might have been comical in another setting.

The smart one was more savvy.

"Look," he said. "Someone in their infinite wisdom decided to enlist you in the Corps. But you're going to have to prove yourself worthy of their generosity, hear?"

"Yeah," said the third, augmenting the sentiment but adding nothing original.

The big one spat on the ground at Albrecht's feet, then shoved off.

"Clean it up," ordered the smart one. "We keep our bunk ship-shape."

And that was that. There was an incident in the privies, and bathing might prove problematic. It became business as usual throughout the day. Nobody was friendly, but nobody was out and out violent toward him. There were "accidental" shoves and there were now several bruises on his person that weren't visible with his clothes on. At supper, as he waited in line for his meal, the petty officer assigned as their head cook took Albrecht's bowl of stew and began to snort and hock. But before he could spit into Albrecht's food, a calm, cool voice sounded, startling everyone.

"Ryback," Commander Angevin said, "you ought to go to the infirmary and have that checked out."

"M'fine, sir," he assured him, knuckling his forehead and setting Albrecht's food safely on his tray. "Ah... you won't be wanting your meal privately, sir?"

"No, thank you. I'll eat with the crew. See how Albrecht is settling in."

"Yessir," he replied after a moment of incredulity, though eventually he figured they were all probably safer with a Warden keeping an eye on the Lysanrin menace. "If you don't mind me joining you, Albrecht?" He waited while Ryback clamored about the galley to put together something fit for their XO, who seemed to be both feared and loved in equal measure.

[Florian]

The day had passed as expected, maybe even better than expected - other than kick, Florian was only a bit bruised. A win! Maybe he would be able to get along on the airship after all. He visibly flinched when the cook almost spit in his food, but was, to his surprise, saved by the XO. A fact that was almost as humiliating as he was thankful.

"I don't mind, sir." He replied, eyes a bit wider than usual, and voice both soft and strained. He was not just humiliated and thankful, he was intimidated. He had tried to hide things as much as everyone else. Florian took the tray and stood there until Angevin had his food, and then followed him to a place to sit. He both looked and felt like a lost puppy, a scene that was not lost on him and only furthered the humiliation that burned at his cheeks.

Florian took a bite of stew once sitting, and then looked up at the XO across from him. "Why are you here, sir?" He asked, in between bites. The Lysanrin pretended he could not feel the eyes boring into the back of his skull. He was particularly worried of what the implications of this would be for him later. The approaching need for sleep had him concerned, but he did not know if it was wise to share that things had gone anything less than swimmingly with Angevin.

"I have been settling in..." He paused, unsure if he should even continue the sentence past that. "...just fine. Sir." It was clear from his expression that things were not just fine, but he felt he could - should - be stronger than that. He would get used to it, and just as he was told by his crewmate, he would earn the generosity of being allowed into the Zaichaer Air Defense Corps.

"Really, there was no need for you to need to come check on me, sir. But thank you, for, ah..." Florian trailed off and then took a few more bites from his stew, but his appetite had been low all day and he was struggling to reach the bowl's halfway point. At this point, his eyes had significantly lightened from their bright blue, now a bone white that was ringed with black, only serving to make him look more nervous than he was.

[Eitan Angevin]

Albrecht was forced to wait a bit for the Commander to get his meal, which was demonstrably better, but the wait wasn't so long that his food got cold. He sat down such that Albrecht would have his back to a wall, eyes on the rest of the tables. There was a strategy to everything as Eitan well understood.

His manners were impeccable, even for a high-ranking military officer. Angevin was a royal name, though Zaichaer was no longer a kingdom. Still, families would cling to history like that until it was wrested from their cold, dead hands. The man himself made little of it, however, especially among his crew. He worked harder than most to get what he got, knowing his father's name would open many doors for him. He had to be sure he could handle what was on the other side of those doors.

An elegant eyebrow slashed upward. "For ah...?" He paused, noting the change in his charge's eyes. There had been background material on Lysanrin in general, Ashborn in particular, along with the particulars of this man. Still, it would be a learning experience to study one up close while keeping him on the straight and narrow.

"I'm not an idiot, Albrecht. If you weren't hazed as soon as I was out of earshot, I'd be surprised. Even I was hazed in my time. You just buck up, prove your mettle, and keep doing the work. People hate Lysanrin and you'll be the only one within range, so you will catch more than your share of violence. I will do what I can to make it livable, but if I order them to leave you alone, you might earn fewer bruises, but you'll never integrate into the unit. The only way forward is through. Do you understand?

"You might just be an exceptional Lysanrin, one who does the work and earns the respect of their crew. You'll never be human. You can survive this. The Corps isn't for the weak. We're all blades. We're all whetstones. Adversity will make you stronger. They glanced askance at me when I first came aboard too, knowing I bear the curse of a Rune. But I bear it for the State and my wards keep the Noble Gambit safe from enemies as they did my previous ship. And I'm a member of the Order of Reconciliation. If they think I have you on a leash, they will fear you less and fear is the root of a great deal of violence. If they see that you only siphon aether in order to bolster the wards that keep them safe, they will begin to understand how you can fit into their world, being part of their crew.

"It won't be easy, but when has your life ever been?"

Dark eyes regarded the private frankly, and then, his piece said for the time, he began to eat his food.

[Florian]

Florian simply nodded while Angevin spoke. He knew he was right, and he was ready to endure it. But he was not sure that he ever would be able to integrate into the unit, barring strange circumstances. Regardless, when asked if he understood, he replied with a "yessir" and let the XO continue talking.

What struck him as odd, though, was that the man seemed keen on making him fit in. Why he would give a shit - especially one with the Order - on whether or not he was treated well or respected by his crewmates was unusual, and he got the feeling that not everything was as it seemed. What that entailed was beyond him. The talk did help steel his nerves, however, and he felt his anxiety melt away into resolve - his eyes flickering to indigo.

And Angevin was right. He'd had his horn broken off before he'd even reached adulthood. The silvery-pink scar that crossed his nose had come even earlier, and countless, tiny scars marred his body from scraps and scrapes and encounters back when he had refused to take anyone's shit. Before his horn, when he learned that maybe it was better to just suck it up.

The way that he had mentioned the curse of a rune...while Lysanrin did not bear any runes, and were unable to bear any runes, their innate ability felt far different than what he had assumed was Angevin opting to receive one in order to be a part of the Order. And his comment about bolstering wards...was it a comment on Lysanrin aether siphoning in general, or did they know about him, specifically?

He did not know if she should ask.

"I joined the military in the first place to take respect for myself. I know what I'm getting myself into, sir. But I know you're right." He paused, his countenance different than just a few minutes before. "I can only hope I will be successful in this endeavor."

He was still struck by Angevin's apparent friendliness, or at least, lack of overt racism. Florian did not know the lore of the families in Zaichaer, nor did he particularly care. It was information that had always been irrelevant to him, and the name Angevin meant about as much as anyone else's name.

"Thank you for your help, sir. I suppose I will be leashed, as it were, for a good while on this ship."

[Eitan Angevin]

"Then we joined for similar reasons," Angevin surmised. Admiral Lir Angevin was famous, of course, but Eitan didn't know if his fame was known to the inhuman inhabitants of Zaichaer. And so he didn't know what this Lysanrin git knew about him, whether he was aware that the Admiral's son was a bastard and that his bastard was born of a Dratori woman. Some of the stigma had disappeared over the years, so perhaps his father had been correct, that even a mongrel bastard could be raised to the light with good Zaichaeri guidance. Certainly, there had been many other scandals over the years more grievous than a noble hero showing compassion for the fruits of his peccadillo. Lir Angevin had turned his folly into another decoration on his uniform: a brilliant, brave soldier of Zaichaer who could also be empathetic and nurturing.

It hadn't always felt like that, but here he was, XO of a fine airship, a respected member of the Order, and helping other baseborn creatures reach for humanity. But with his ears cropped, and expertly healed without but the faintest of scarring, most people seemed to forget those unfortunate facts of his birth if they knew them at all. Still and all, members of high society didn't forget, though it had been some time since anyone attempted to twist the knife in his guts about it. His family continued to thrive; he continued to thrive.

If Eitan's birth and life hadn't ruined Lir Angevin, then Florian Albrecht's success in the Corps needn't ruin Eitan Angevin.

"You will not find my leash excessively severe," he went on, "assuming you comport yourself as an airman of the Corps, and abide by the laws of our fine city-state when it comes to magic. But while I will make all efforts to support your success, I will not go easy on you, either. Especially not in front of your peers, lest they grow to resent you. Worry not; there will be enough danger in your career for you to prove yourself a worthy crewmember."

[Florian]

Florian took another bite of his stew, the bowl finally nearing empty. He was small, but his appetite was not nearly as frail as his appearance would suggest. A last bite was taken as Angevin finished his piece. Florian mused on the fears his mother had for him when she had first learned of his desire to enlist. She had told him to be careful, but that was something that he already knew. But she wanted him to be careful with who he trusted, too. Even a supportive word could be used as a weapon later, and Florian did not eagerly trust even fellow Lysanrin, let alone anyone else.

But to work functionally in a crew, he had to trust the people in charge of him, and he had to trust that his crewmates would see that he was useful enough alive and unharmed. It was difficult to reconcile this. To reconcile that because he was now part of a group, part of a team, regardless of how others may have thought of him, he would have to place trust. Even if they pushed him around and insulted him, he had to trust that they would not wish him to be severely harmed.

Florian swallowed, his eyes slowly fading back to their normal blue from the indigo they had flashed. "I would like to prove my worth first without the use of...magic." He says, the last word a whisper, thrown out from his mouth with a practiced distaste. "Whatever the case may be, I do not wish for you to go easy on me either, sir."

The Lysanrin had been leaning over his food as he ate, but he now sat up straight. "Truth be told, I don't know why you are offering to help me fit in, sir. It's one thing to keep me from being killed, by cruelty or accident, but it's another to want to...help." Florian smiled, just enough to reach his eyes. "Don't think I don't appreciate it, but please do not take offense if I seem at all hesitant. You must know this is not a common occurence, sir."

Just for a second, Florian allowed himself to daydream about a future where he did not just survive, but had the appreciation and respect of people around him, Lysanrin or not. A future where he could thrive without the encroaching fear of his new crewmates or even people he met on the street.