Legend of Ransera

"Aye, and we still hunt the shadows lest they hunt us," he acknowledged.

"The structure of the Order has changed somewhat due to the exigencies of our time. I went from Aspirant, an apprentice, to Watcher, which is the rank-and-file. I was promoted to Seeker, and reported to a Vigilant. The Vigilants are the greater powers in the Order, at least in the Watchers of Purity, who were the active branch, while the College of Minders were the scholars and sages. The Vigilants reported to Sentinels, who oversaw the Order in a city, all subject to the High Sentinel, who is the Sentinel of Zaichaeri proper. I now have that honor.

"So, I was a mid-level Watcher, but... as you say... trial by fire. The new structure is more of a web, but with better delineation of roles for better efficiency."

As for menageries, "Some eccentric bluebloods did have menageries in the past. We had to focus on the preservation of livestock, however, and so pets, especially exotic ones, have become more rare. Thankfully, this valley seems to have recuperated from the long night."

Angevin took a broader view for a moment before returning to his observation of her work.

His nose wrinkled obligingly when she alluded to the Orkhan. They weren't a particular problem in Zaichaer, but he was also too polite to cast more aspersions at Kalzasi, where the Orkhan had lived long before their new Avialae masters had come. She knew his prejudices, at least in broad strokes, and he knew hers. Belaboring them was unnecessary.

When the time came to isolate the roots, he crouched down beside her so he could better observe his work.

Dark eyes intent, he wove a fine mesh of aether around the entire plant, not only its roots. Layers upon layers with different tasks, molded and anchored cleverly such that they would move with the plant, protecting it without risk of strangling it or preventing necessary things from flowing in or out of the wards.

He was neither a sembler nor an elementalist, but he had worked with both. Still, he wasn't entirely certain how a Vastian mage would describe things in the Common tongue.

"Do you see?" he asked. "Here I have left a sort of, hm, permeable bit whereby you can make magical adjustments without breaking the ward?"

Angevin nodded.

"I also left parts of the weave temporarily tied, so any competent warder can undo the work rather than break it with brute force. That way, once you plant them, there will be no wards to impede growth. You are quite welcome."

As for her work, he didn't fish out an aura glass to observe, but she had the literal quirk in her eyes indicating she was up to some magic. He wasn't worried; one of their recent innovations was weaving arcane protections into their uniforms. That way, he could feel more secure that nobody was tampering with his mind even if Lessnau were not on hand to stand guard.

He was silent while she worked. As he could not observe the actual weaves, his eyes did take in their surroundings. He considered using it as a training ground for Zaichaeri troops. There was enough danger to challenge them, but it was a danger they could learn to adapt to.

Dark eyes returned to her when she was finished, and he nodded acknowledgement of more thanks heaped upon him. The biome had bounced back rather robustly, no doubt due to less infringement by humanity, and so he did not limit her to the one seedling, but kept pace with her and her work.

"Etzalal." He tasted the word. "Does it have meaning?"

"Etzalal," he said again, trying to incorporate the nuances of her voicing of it into his own. He offered the little creature a bemused smile. "Welcome to Zaichaer, noble one."

While he was aware that some spirits were a great deal more intelligent than pets, he refrained from reaching out to Etzalal, even though the boy he had once been had certainly dreamed of riding dragonback before he had been trained to eschew fantasy for airships.

When she called to his attention more mundane herbs, "Hm? Oh, aye. We cultivate many of these on the grounds for herbal remedies." He paused. "After the rift and before the eclipse, the grounds of my townhouse were outfitted by my brother-in-law and the other geniuses at the Windworks to rise into the air, much like an airship. Between my wards and the efforts of some patriotic Kindred, we managed to make a farm of the place to help feed the people while the sun was hidden behind the new moon.

"It has since been scaled back into more natural beauty now that sheer productivity is no longer its sole raison d'être. But the herb garden remains robust." He did lean down, rather elegantly gathering a cluster of white flowers to scent. "How do you know about goldenrod and meadowsweet? Surely they don't grow in the desiccation of the desert or along the flood zone of the Vasta?"

A dark brow arched curiously. Botany was not his forte, but he was well educated and had learned quite a bit he hadn't thought to learn during the crises of '22 and '23.

"Ah, yes," a broader smile flashed at mention of marriage. "I have the honor of being married to the most beautiful woman in Zaichaer. Just don't tell my sister I said that. Luca and I married in Frost '21, and have two beautiful sons. And you?"

"He is quite welcome," he said, offering a faint smile to the creature.

There was a part of him that wanted to delight in the strange thing, but another part of him shuddered away from the faint sort of gossamer touch upon his mind. It had been a long, long time since he had learned coping mechanisms to bind those black Dratori rages; in his mind, they were inextricable from the spirit-speaking that such elves did.

She might have noticed how air elementals had caressed him as they flew up where the air was rarefied, how occasionally, some little wild thing would try to get his attention until his willful ignorance proved too much. He had made himself deaf to such things so long ago that he barely recognized the feelings and then only on the odd occasion.

"So you seek to steal our natural resources rather than trade with them..." But he was smiling. If the vines had been a viable commodity, they would have become one before the rift and all that followed.

As for her more personal stories, he nodded thoughtfully.

"Our parents have a great deal of say in who we marry as well, although that might be changing. My wife and I made our own decisions. My sister was on-again-off-again betrothed to my brother-in-law for as long as I can remember, largely due to the whims of our parents. Finally, though, I believe she informed the First Minister that he was to propose to her properly, he did, and the rest is happy history."

When she held out the nosegay, he could only accept it.

"Oh, thank you. You are too kind. Although... as an honest man, I will be compelled to tell her I didn't pick it myself." He chuckled. And he was an honest man when he could afford to be. With his life, that was the vast majority of the time.

In the time remaining her for her visit to Zaichaer, if she had any social skills at all, she could likely find someone to tell her more about Eitan Angevin. His mixed heritage had never been a secret, but whereas he had been well-known among the blue bloods when he was only proof of his father's peccadillo, now he was known by nearly everyone in Zaichaer. What had been a mark of shame was now reinterpreted as proof of what human will could achieve, how he had mastered his baser nature and proven the power of humanity.

It had begun as an honest sentiment. Now, perhaps, it was encouraged and fostered. A leader couldn't be popular at all times, and so banking goodwill for the future seemed only wise.

"Consider them a gift from the people of Zaichaer, please," he said. "You are welcome to spend coin among the shopkeepers in the city, but this is also a precursor to reestablishing relations with Solunarium. They sent an envoy before the Eclipse. Soon, I hope we shall be returning the favor. If I must don my coldly practical politician's hat for a moment, it were better we have allies against Gelerian aggression. And so the good graces of an important Solunarian citizen is well worth the sacrifice."

He offered her his arm, a Zaichaeri gentleman, though he didn't know how such things were handled in her homeland.

As they walked, "The Rift, the Eclipse, and the threats from without have forced us to be more diligent about defending our borders. Your employer would have had an easier time of it, although I hope our red tape didn't prove overly taxing for you. We welcome guests. We just have house rules."

And, "The cold realities of the day are changing our culture. Adaptability is important. My sister has three small children now, and serves as Minister of Welfare besides—the Mother of the Nation, some call her." He laughed. "My wife has two, and is completing her studies at the Institute with an eye on work in the Ministry of Science. Thankfully, we have a staff at White Knight Hall to help with domestic duties as the four of us are spread quite thin. There is no longer a leisure class in Zaichaer."

After a brief inhalation from the bouquet, he said, "Luca does deserve flowers."