Birds of a Feather. [Stefan, Brenner, Florian]

[Eitan Angevin]

11th Glade, Year 121 Steel
The Dornkirk Estate

A year ago, Eitan Angevin had been absent for a momentous date: Glade the 8th.

This year, he had been absent for a coup.

When the Noble Gambit had been allowed to dock, the crew had not been allowed to debark. Officers came aboard and treated with Captain Merovech; Angevin had been present, but had let his commanding officer do the talking. Their debrief was painfully, well, brief. It was lacking in detail. And it took more than that initial meeting to prove that they were loyal to the new regime. Merovech said it well: "We are loyal to the office, not the person."

And then he had to oversee the debarkation of the men. The captain may go down with the ship, but the executive officer might as well have while seeing to the logistics. When he could finally quit the deck himself, Dienerin was waiting for him—good man. He offered more intelligence upon the ride to the Hall of Reconciliation. At least he was armed with the knowledge that Florian Albrecht had returned, though he couldn't quite grasp what turn of events had led to Brenner—now First Minister Dornkirk—hiring him. And the Lysanrin had returned no thanks to Angevin's multi-city net of informants through the Order; no, he had been brought in by the Dornkirks.

He tried not to let Vigilant Richter see that he was reeling.

"It would seem that your exile order is stayed," she had said. "Find out what is going on."

Their meeting was brief—sharp and gutting as per usual.

His meeting with his wife and his sister was sharp and gutting for other reasons.

"Send word to Leichenberg and Zorrothy," he told Dienerin, who rode with him to the Dornkirk Estate. "I'll need to see them tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," he said crisply just as a footman opened the door for them and Eitan disembarked.

He was still in his uniform as he walked from the cab to the door, and it opened before he reached it.

"Mists, Stef—"

The brothers Dornkirk going to Kalzasi on a diplomatic mission had seemed like a laugh riot; they would drink expensive liquors and eat all the pupus while the pidge prince married his Kathar slave. From what little he had gathered, it had been something else entirely. He had been disappointed not to find Stefan at home with Delia, but of course, he was now, it seemed, being promoted. Eitan couldn't imagine he would be happy about that, preferring to be hands-on with his engineering and managing his workers, but Stefan would do anything to support Brenner and his family, even a job he hated.

He embraced the man hard.

But once they went inside, he would have to be professional again. He wasn't here just for drinks with the boys. Important, history-altering things were afoot. And then Melchior and Sylana would probably be around as well.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The last ten days of Stefan Dornkirk's life had been, without question, the most extraordinary. There had been many times, as a boy, that he had wished for a life less ordinary, but now, as a man confronted with the reality of those wishes, he found them wanting.

More than that, he found himself wanting. He had dreamed of adventures as a child, of running the Windworks as a young man, and vaguely of political ambitions as an adult. Now, without warning, he'd had the middle of his plans, in which he had assumed he would spend the majority of his life, ripped out from under him and replaced with a combination of the former and the later.

The days spent since returning to Zaichaer were a blur of short, intense violence, and conciliatory speech making. Stefan was exhausted to the point that he wasn't properly processing anything that had happened since they had fled Kalzasi, and just rested enough to realize it. He had agreed to things, he knew he had, sorting out all of what those were would be a matter to deal with overtime.

Several notes had been sent to Delia, but fear of consequences had kept him from going back to the place that had provided a tranquil and joyous beginning to his domestic life. His wife, and the life she carried were too precious to risk in the precarious political environment. Additionally, Brenner might need him at any moment and he could not abandon his brother or the State at the time they were most likely to need him.

Eitan's valet, also named Deinerin, had been keeping him abreast of the safety and wellbeing of the ladies of White Knight Hall. The man was a formidable soldier, and it wasn't as if Delia herself wasn't capable of defense if it came to it, still, Stefan worried.

A note had arrived informing him that the Noble Gambit was soon to dock, and it had been a struggle not to go to meet it himself. Who knew what Eitan would be experiencing when he landed? All the ships of the ZADC were being given a debriefing and were required to reswear their oaths to the State now that there was a new regime. This was to be expected, and, as far as Brenner had told him, there hadn't been any major issues with loyalty. Still, Stefan wishes he could spare his brother-in-law the ordeal.

It had been hours since the Gambit had arrived and now he waited by the door, having sent the butler away, not caring how odd that might seem. As soon as he pulled it open he was pulled into strong, familiar arms. It was all he could do not to collapse into them. As soon as the grip loosened he gave Eitan's Dienerin a nod and then pulled the half-elf quickly across the hall and into a small, rarely used room that Sylana kept to house high-level messengers, dressmakers, and other service professionals who wouldn't stand the affront of being left standing in the hall but also weren't of high enough standing to be invited into the actual parlor.

No one would be in there, or would enter, and that made it exactly to Stefan's needs at the moment. Once the door was closed behind him, Stefan did collapse a bit. Only a little, there was still too much to do for any more than that.

"Mist, Eitan." Was all he said for long minutes as he pressed his face to the man's shoulder.

Finally, he lifted his head, eyes a bit bloodshot from lack of sleep and hair in disarray. Trying to pull himself together he ran a hand through, trying to put his hair back in order.

"I am so relieved you are here. Did you stop by the Hall?" After listening to the reply he nodded and said,

"Did you get our message about Private Albrecht?" The answer to this was also affirmative so he nodded again. Nodding was about all he could muster with a lot that had been presented to him of late.

"We can go to Brenner if you would like, I believe the Private will be with him."

He did not want to leave the small, empty feeling room they were cloistered in, unless it was to go somewhere more comfortable, where they could drink, but what Stefan wanted no longer seemed to be a part of the equation. Saying

"Come, Brenner has an office set up now." He led the way.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"...And we simply cannot brook further dissent in that quarter of the-..." A knock on the door to his office cut off Brenner's latest oration, perhaps sparing Undersecretary Albrecht, but it was doubtful any such relief would be long lived.

"Enter!"

Brenner rose from his seat as one of the household footmen briskly stepped over to hand him a folded note on a brass tray. He opened and scanned the scribbles, then placed it back on the tray and walked round to the other side of the desk.

"Yes. Send them in whenever they're ready." He instructed, waving the man off before returning his attentions to Florian.

"It seems the plaintiff has arrived, Albrecht. You reckoning is at hand." He lifted his eyebrows in a playfully menacing manner. Perhaps a bit of spoonful of playfulness would serve as some slight balm to what was certainly a nerve-wracking day for the young Lysanrin. This meeting wasn't likely to be a picnic for Brenner, either.

Although he'd pushed for Florian to make amends with Eitan, he'd also promoted the lad to a high-level position before broaching any of the matter with his oldest friend who had quite valid grievances against the new Undersecretary.

The First Minister stalked over to his dry bar, figuring he'd cut to that particular chase and make a concerted effort to lubricate the entire experience with a spot of schnapps. He poured two fingers of the good stuff for each of them, and shot his own with one hand as he gestured to the bar with the other.

"Help yourself." He said to Florian, after that hefty, fiery gulp. He refilled his tumbler before returning to lean his rear against the front of his desk, facing the door and awaiting Florian's fate.

When Eitan entered, he would find Brenner looking far different than when they'd last parted. Whereas then, he'd been sickly and pallid, now he was rejuvenated. In stark contrast to Stefan, who now looked harried and underrested, Brenner appeared to be thriving in his new position. Upon seeing Eitan, he would launch forth with arms extended. There was glory to be gleaned amidst the chaos of the day.

[Florian]

It was almost a saving grace that Brenner was interrupted in work-talk, though the reason behind it was far from safe. It had been about a season and a half, give or take, since Florian had last seen Eitan. And the last time he had seen the man, he admitted his love — only to leave the very next day. With a note. With a key. To say that Florian was nervous was an understatement. He had little idea of the ramifications his actions held on Eitan, though he knew that there was some measure of responsibility passed to the Commander. He was resolute to not step on the defensive. He knew he hurt him professionally, but past that it was up in the air. He had to take responsibility for what he did and apologize.

"It sure is."

He still loved him. He knew that the second that Brenner announced he was there. Florian sighed and walked over to the bar to take the shot, grimacing for a second as the alcohol mixed with the butterflies in his stomach. It was going to be a long story to explain how he disappeared and returned as the Undersecretary of Domestic Relations, but if Eitan had any interest in hearing it, he would tell it. If he wanted to know, he deserved to know. He stood next to the desk, his left hand crossing his chest and resting on his shoulder.

When they entered, Florian, unlike the brothers Dornkirk, did not attempt to hug or even really approach Eitan. He wanted to, but he knew better than to do anything in front of the brothers and without gauging how everything was. He both looked and felt rather sheepish. It had, in fact, been as long as they had even known each other since they had seen each other.

[Eitan Angevin]

Seeing Stefan first was a boon. Seeing Brenner second was another, and the man appeared to be thriving under the pressure of his promotion. He clapped his friend on the back and, once released, straightened and saluted.

"First Minister," he greeted, a touch teasing.

He had a million questions, both on Richter's behalf and his own, and while he knew his official level of clearance, he didn't know where he stood with Brenner now that his star had risen so high. At least three members of their expedition had been catapulted into the firmament of the Zaichaeri power structure. He didn't know if that included Arnnett, Stechpalme, or any of the others.

And there was the Lysanrin whose disappearance had threatened Eitan's career and, in all probability, his citizenship. He didn't know whether his military rank had officially been changed or not. Undersecretary was much higher than anyone of his race had risen in the past of the Brass City. The Order would leave him be, he assumed, though they did want to keep tabs on any Lysanrin capable of aether siphoning, especially one of his power. But they would have told Brenner that, surely.

"Albrecht," he said, not unkindly. Never had he imagined the man would return of his own volition. If his net hadn't been cast as far as Kalzasi yet, it had certainly been a good place to hide. Extradition would have been nigh impossible without extralegal covert operations.

"It seems I miss all the early Glade adventures," he noted to Brenner, who at least saw these things as exciting. He knew Stefan would rather be at home with his wife, and he didn't really know what Albrecht wanted anymore. With his mother gone, there were no remaining ties to the city for him.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan followed his brother-in-law into his brother's office with at least as much reluctance as the other man was showing. Well, Eitan wasn't actually showing reluctance in the way anyone might recognize outwardly, but there were subtle things that Stefan, after having lived with him for a time now, noticed.

The meeting between Eitan and Brenner would be important, but their elder brother didn't anticipate anything untoward from it. They were old friends, and they had known since childhood that their relationship would shift as one or the other rose in rank. It had not been a foregone conclusion that Brenner would always be the superior. House Angevin was powerful, and deeply entrenched in the military hierarchy of the State. Even as the younger of the two, and a legitimized bastard, Eitan had been the favorite for the better career, at least, in the eyes of society. The Dornkirks had always known Brenner was crafted for greatness, a prediction now born out by current events wildly beyond what even they had imagined. At least, not this quickly. It was well earned and well deserved, of course. Having society as a whole, or, at least, those in charge of it, recognize the fact was gratifying.

Stefan himself might wish they had all had more time to be a family, to grow and live before the extended burdens of high office had been thrust upon them, but he kept thoughts of the kind firmly to himself. It was an honor to his family, an honor to his wife that he too held high office now. Delia would be one of the premier women of society, outranking even her own mother in social settings. If only he wasn't terrified to go home and take joy in it with her. For as short as their courtship, and not marriage had been so far, the idea of the peace her presence gave him was so tempting it nearly tore him apart.

But her safety was everything. If he could not keep her and their child safe, what was the point of any of it?

He greeted his brother and nodded to Albrecht, but then stepped to one side and kept quiet. He had nothing important to report to Brenner in the capacity of Science Minister to First Minister. Stefan would be peripheral to the conversations that Eitan needed to have with both the other men in the room, so he would keep quiet, and try to relax in the presence of the two people he trusted most.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Eitan's warm, easy reception was enough to assuage Brenner's concerns of resentment. If there was any present, it didn't seem that it was great enough to render the younger man cold. He even got the sense that there was something congratulatory in the immediate use of his novel title. The embrace was tighter than usual for that relief.

"Everything happens so quickly these days, doesn't it, old boy?" He held onto Eitan's shoulders as he drew back and looked him in the face, "But you're looking well. I'm glad to see you." He released Eitan, stepping over to Stefan, so Florian could have his moment with the Air Commander. That was the more concerning reunion, after all...

"Stef." His brother was afforded a more casual hug, because they'd seen each other frequently enough of late between Kalzasi, the return trip, the coup and its aftermath. Patting Stefan on the arm, Brenner moved back over to the bar to collect the two drinks that had yet to be claimed and deliver them to their designated recipients.

"For you, brother dear..." He winked, "And for you, Eitan." He chuckled.

"Indeed. You really must stop planning your vacations around New Years." He was in jest. He knew very well that Eitan was on assignment, not vacation. After all the time he'd taken off for their top secret expedition, he didn't imagine the airman would have much in the way of vacation time for quite a spell.

"But seeing as this is our first rendezvous of 122, I believe we're overdue for a toast." He collected his own tumbler and lifted it.

"To the regime change in Zaichaer..." He smirked, "And the one in Kalzasi."

[Florian]

Florian was quiet still, watching the greetings between the Dornkirks and Eitan. He didn't seem upset, but the Lysanrin himself was on the brink of tears just standing in the room. Eitan was no longer his superior now that he'd been discharged by Grand Marshal Kelgarde, but there was still a sense of...something. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Florian had already had his drink, but he joined in the toast anyway. It didn't matter as much to him as apologizing, however, and afterwards, he pushed himself out of what would have been mumbling anxiety and spoke clearly.

"Angevin," And, in the same breath, "I'm sorry." He set the tumbler on Brenner's desk and freed his hand. In his current dress it was not difficult to notice that his right arm ended much earlier than the left, but it was perhaps the only visible changes visible to Eitan. His hand shook a bit from his anxiety, and his eyes were shock white, but he was dressed well and his recent haircut afforded him a better look than he had even when he was in the ZADC. He exhaled slowly, and was quiet for a bit. Brenner seemed to be in a good mood and he didn't want to ruin the moment by spilling his guts about his spilled guts, but that was also part of the entire point that Eitan had come, wasn't it?

"I never should have left Zaichaer." He laughed after he said this, as if it were some salve to his own nerves. A weird coping mechanism for his mostly unprompted talk. "It's like the moment I left your side, Eitan, they pounced. How much do you know, anyway?"

[Eitan Angevin]

"Vacation," he scoffed, but he played along. Everyone present had been a part of the expedition that had used up any vacation time for the foreseeable future. When Brenner handed him a drink, his shoulders relaxed and he grinned.

"Mists, I need one after talking to Richter. And we very nearly went through our stores aboard the Gambit waiting to be processed. Thanks." He raised his glass. "Here, here!"

As for Albrecht, Eitan just smiled. "Bygones. Now you're back, I'm no longer facing exile. I've a better connection with the network of Reconciliators across Karnor, and the boys here have saved me a trip to Kalzasi. I would have cornered you there and reported back. There would have been no extraditing you from the city of pidges. But... it seems you've found a way back without drawing the wrath of the Order or the Corps, so bully for you."

He paused, straightened, and saluted.

"Pardon. Undersecretary." Then, "I wouldn't mind the long version, but I'll settle for the short version. I heard some little when I was debriefed. Some more from Richter. Most of what I got was from Delia, Dienerin, and my wife. Seems like you had a rough go of it, though." He didn't comment on the arm, fairly certain that a bit of resin and gold dust wouldn't reaffix that, though perhaps Stefan could contrive some clockwork replacement, or Stechpalme could work her wonders with scalpel and aether.

There was no rancor in his tone. Brenner was First Minister. Stefan was Science Minister. Albrecht was Undersecretary to Brenner. He liked when good things happened to good people, and Albrecht seemed suitably chastised for his betrayal. If this war was well and truly coming, not some wagging of the dog, then there would be chance enough for him to earn some glory and promotion as well. Perhaps he really might end up the last mage standing before the world was delivered from magic.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"You've more than earned it." Brenner conceded with a vaguely apologetic shrug. "You just let me know if a good word from the office of the First Minister might help with that." A wink accompanied the offer, but he didn't linger as Eitan's focus turned to Florian. Pursing his lips, he moved to one of the arm chairs, trying to appear as though he wasn't focused on their exchange, though he very much was.

As far as the First Minister was concerned, their reconciliation was the first order of business. There were other matters, incidentally some of them also pertaining to 'reconciliation' of a sort, that he was keen to broach, but they could wait. If their differences proved unappeasable, that would complicate things, but Eitan seemed to be in forgiving mood. He glanced to Stefan, trying to gauge whether his brother was picking up on anything he wasn't from the exchange.

It was not lost on Brenner that Eitan had gotten the short end of the stick as far as expeditioners went. Of the team leaders, he and Myles had been the ones who hadn't seen promotions straight away with the coming of the new regime. That didn't mean, of course, that Brenner wouldn't do what he could to see their fortunes lifted. It would just be a matter of figuring out how and where best to place them. It wouldn't do to have all their best and brightest soldiers transferred into the private sector with an epic war looming on the Northerly horizon, but there were other matters at home and abroad that needed tending to and Brenner had a few ideas as to how Eitan Angevin might improve Zaichaer's prospects in advance of the coming conflagration.