Legend of Ransera

It just so happened that Eitan was working in the same building as Stefan that day. While he was used to working out of multiple offices, it was important for people to know where to go to run something up the chain of command. Luckily, his and his brother-in-law's families remained in cohabitation, so, in general, they let each other know where they would be working on any given day.

Eitan also had multiple assistants anymore, from secretaries and logisticians to his personal watchdog - Watcher Lessnau - to his own Dienerin, who now had security clearance higher than he had owned when in military service. Everyone knew that the Dienerins were not to be kept from two of the three heads of state, and even Lang's people had learned to accept them as trusted messengers from Dornkirk and Angevin.

While a newly minted Seeker and Captain when disaster had struck, he had risen quickly through the ranks even as the ranks were thinned, but if he had learned anything, it was to telegraph a stoic, confident mien as so many of the men and women working toward the greater good looked to him as a bellwether for the state of the State. And so now he was a past master at hurrying without seeming to hurry.

Stefan's man kept pace with him, as did, predictably, Watcher Lessnau, then let him into Stefan's office and closed the door behind him. Eitan didn't stop, but strode up to his brother-in-law's desk. As they had the room, he placed his hand on the man's strong arm, sensing his agitation.

"I'm here," he said quietly, supportive as ever. He squeezed, and then his hand came up to squeeze at the tension in Stefan's neck. He didn't pressure him for an update, knowing it would come quickly in any case now that he was here. Catastrophe was old hats to them, so his heartbeat wasn't even elevated.

Without further speech, Eitan took the box and investigated. Brows rose like raven wings taking flight, but he did not otherwise comment. If his search was more thorough, his hands and eyes more practiced, it was his training at work, as well as his rearing as a political animal. There were dates upon the letters, but he hadn't heard tell of this from his sources in Kathiid. Timing would be imperative.

All the same, he paused to share the stiff drink.

The burn down his throat steadied him.

"You don't have an official press secretary yet," he began, "but you will need to get an official statement out. Acknowledge what he accomplished before his betrayal, which makes his betrayal all the sharper. Distance yourself from vigilantism, but underline that a right and proper court of law or military tribunal would have found him guilty based upon the evidence presented and that the punishment would have been capital."

The High Sentinel paused, unreadable eyes reading the First Minister.

"Stef..." Eitan softened around the edges, becoming more human and less office. "Stef... look at me." Stefan Dornkirk a strong man, but also a quietly sensitive one. "Expediency aside, well, no... This is politically expedient. The one great barrier between all those Zaichaeri citizens and their home is now out of the way. A traitor escaped justice, but paid for his crimes. A man is dead and that is a shame, but now, if we act quickly, Zaichaer can be whole again. Families can be reunited. It'll all be safer for Delia and Amy, for Luca and Brynn..."

He considered taking the box, but whoever did act as press secretary would need all the details. He could relay them to Lang himself, and then their triumvirate would be equally informed, and both Order and Military would be prepared to support their Civilian leadership as a united front.

Eitan's smile when Stefan met his gaze was fully of fraternal affection. He patted him on the arm.

"A good idea," he said. "We both ought to put some resources into verifying, but we ought to let Lang know and relay what our people find. If both civilian and Order investigations corroborate whatever his come up with, he will see that we are aligned and he will appreciate being allowed to be the one taking visible action."

Kill him with kindness, Eitan thought. And, of course, he would ensure that on some level, a seed of suspicion would be planted that Lang had somehow maneuvered the assassination for his own rise to power, a useful key should they need to neutralize him. Between the two of them, they could lead the triumvirate, but, of course, it was going to be a dance. They didn't want an actual military coup.

"But you should have a statement prepared to follow his. Nobody expects the Order to opine, but I can be present to nod approvingly if necessary. The people need to see that they have a government that is united and working together toward their benefit and future."

There were statements that they made publicly, although those would be more cumbersome now that the population had boomed with the influx of people now that Zaichaer was "safe." It had been easy at the Windworks; Dornkirk and Angevin, wives, babes in arms. They would have to include Lang in the tableau from now on, which would shift things, but Eitan was certain he could spin that. Their families were young, beautiful, and full of hope. The old guard general was comforting, but not inspiring.

Crumbling glory, he thought to himself.

Eitan was glad Dienerin had so many skills. His own Dienerin wasn't a carbon-copy of Stefan's, but he was equally capable in his own bailiwicks. Once they had sent him off with notes and orders, Eitan's own to be translated to his Dienerin so his people would know they came from him. No tea, but rather lunch; well, he was here so he would lunch with his brother-in-law. Progress knew they always had plenty to discuss, whether personal or political.

"If we have a working lunch," he mused, "perhaps we can be home before supper tonight. The wives would appreciate that, I'll be bound." But his attention was captured as soon as Stefan began to speak of Order matters. He nodded slowly.

"I intend to manage that office ex officio et pro tempore for the time being. I have thoughts about certain members present in Zaichaer, but I am curious to see who has yet to return to the fold, as well. We are, as you know, rearranging quite a bit and there are a thousand and one dire priorities. I have been holding so tightly to the reins for so long that I am afraid they will have to pry my fingers loose slowly but surely." He smiled, then took on a more serious mien. If they took out Lang, then they would have to raise Jäger as a matter of course, which would leave a wake of disruption that any fluctuation in the political power structure.

A part of him wished he could put the biddable Reichart into the third seat of power, but he was more useful where he was at the moment, and that could be a long-term goal once Lang's days of service came to an end.

"I have informants in Kathiid," he admitted. "That none of them came to me with news of this before the assassins is perhaps no surprise, not if we were intended to be the audience to the crime." He paused, asked mildly, "Can you think of someone you trust more than me to investigate this matter?"

The unconditioned and unconditional affirmation of trust made him smile with all sincerity. He would, of course, also prefer their business finish at a regular time that they might break bread with their wives daily. For a moment, he recalled that rare moment when he had fallen asleep on the settee, his young, swaddled son asleep upon his chest, their heartbeats, he imagined, falling into sync. They had gone from unending crisis to a steadily growing mountain of work, but he hoped that someday, they would bring that mountain's growth into equilibrium, delegate, carve out time for the domesticity they had earned.

But, until that day, he would work shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother-in-law, his sister, his wife, and all those proud Zaichaeri citizens who were the lifeblood of the nation.

"Lang has taken a load off my shoulders," he acknowledged, his own hands falling upon Stefan's shoulders as they took a moment to lock eyes, to take a breath. "Our birds are aloft. Reichart supplied lists of men he thought capable of quick training to the skies and now we are no longer undermanned. I now command men like Captain Merovech, who taught me how to lead. My captains are capable men and women, and my oversight at this point is minimal compared to my work on the Order.

"You have no need to fear Luca's blades." He winked. "Only her hands."

It amused him that it amused his wife to tease Stefan, a man probably twice her mass. That the First Minister of Zaichaer was afraid of his young wife provided much needed hilarity, and Stefan was a good sport. The best sport, really.

"All right, my good man." His hands clapped upon Stefan's shoulders and squeezed. "Our goal for the day is to kiss our children before they are put to bed, and then to kiss our wives until they pull us to bed. Everything else is just a task that needs compartmentalizing toward that goal. Are you ready?"

He grinned.