Vanya's handwriting is neat and easy to read, in the manner of a man who drilled on it as a boy: utilitarian but never sloppy. The note is submitted to Flint through formal channels, not simply left on his desk or slid under a door.
Commander, At your convenience, I would request a short audience. The matter is time-sensitive, but not an emergency. I am at your disposal at any time convenient to you.
The reply comes by way of the weekly rota assignments handed down the next morning. Alongside whatever duties Vanya has been given—this watch rotation, that tedious Gallows maintenance chore—is an appointment time for that afternoon. If there's any novelty to being afforded the option to give his time so rather than simply looking up and finding his work interrupted, the reply makes no note of it.
Yet it is—novel. Enough so that Flint makes a point of picking some hour where Matthias is likely to be away from his desk lest the appearance of a Templar turn the boy grousing and sullen, and so somewhat diminish the overall atmosphere of the division office.
He's been with Riftwatch for over a year, and in that time he hasn't given anyone cause to complain that he's late, or that he gripes, or that he doesn't pull his weight. He takes any assignment given to him and does it promptly and thoroughly. It's not enough, he knows, but it's what he can do, and so it's what he does. Flint, running Forces, knows the results as well as anyone in the Gallows, so it can hardly be a surprise when Vanya arrives precisely on time for the scheduled meeting.
"Commander," by way of respect and greeting; he still gives the impression, sometimes, of an instinct to salute. In lieu of that, he isn't seated without an invitation, waiting for Flint to take the meeting's lead.
Edited (immediately noticing a repeated word, terrible) 2022-08-27 23:38 (UTC)
"Orlov," comes with a nod to the chair before the desk—invitation extended.
(There's just the one on that side; further seating options would seem to invite being mobbed. At least this way should more than one person wish to ask him a half dozen irritating questions, someone must deal with the indignity of being made to stand to do so—)
Not that this fact has much bearing on the current circumstances. Here, Flint shifts the ledger sprawled before him to the side and draws one of the desk drawers open with a rasp of its fittings. A fresh page is rifled from it. Clearly, he's anticipating this to be the sort of meeting where one might wish to take down a note.
Whether or not he'll need to take notes, Flint can see that Vanya came prepared. He is still more or less at attention, even seated. "Thank you for seeing me. I wished to make a request, one which may have some tactical ramifications. But I think it is overall a net gain for the organization, and I hope you'll agree. I wish to be excused from my duties in anticipation from being ill from ceasing the use of lyrium."
Flint hasn't gotten a far as fetching a pencil from the collection of writing implements in a nearby tin cup, and so there is no need to set it aside. Though the sense of the thing is in the way his ready hand turns idle on the desk—it seems there will be no note taking after all. Instead, Vanya is subjected to a brief and critical study; a flicking look of assessment.
"You'll forgive my ignorance," he says. "I can't say that I've much first hand experience with the Order's use of lyrium." Theoretical? Certainly. He knows the broadest strokes. But Templars are strange beasts in the north compared to their Southern brethren, and rarer animals still when it comes to the habitat of ships and rebel pirate islands.
"I assume this will impact your ability to challenge a mage in the field."
"It will," Vanya says, without surprise or hesitation. "Once the lyrium clears my system, I will no longer have access to the specific abilities that allow me to interfere with a hostile mage's magic, which is the main reason I haven't broached the subject before now. However." This is the part he laid out carefully before even sending Flint the initial note.
"There are three tactical reasons I would submit that support my request. First, if you'll forgive me noting it, there have been signs of strain in the relations between Riftwatch and the Chantry, even for someone removed from the details." It hadn't been hard to figure out, eventually, why Marcus Rowntree was grilling him on his connections. "Should that relationship fray to the point they are no longer willing to provide lyrium to those who do not have current ties of loyalty to the Order, I could face withdrawal at a time not of your choosing, which would likely sideline me for, at a minimum, a few days. It could come at an inconvenient or dangerous moment, if it isn't a choice." It's a reason he'd thought of before, but the situation seems newly likely.
"Second, as I'm sure you will have noted, many Riftwatch agents find my resignation of my post within the Templar organization meaningless while I still possess the ability to counter mages. I'd initially thought that my utility in fighting Venatori and other hostile mages would offset this drawback, but it has been clear to me that there are agents who would prefer to work with any other member of Forces. No one has ignored orders or done a subpar job in my experience, but even so ... if it is a stumbling block that I can remove, I would remove it."
A brief pause and then he says quietly: "And third, continued lyrium use could affect my memory and judgment. I've been ingesting it for nearly 30 years at this point, and the damage is possibly done. But from what I've heard of Commander Cullen's experience, it is also possible that you may get longer use from me as a soldier if I stop, which may somewhat offset the tactical drawback of giving up my lyrium-specific abilities."
It is very possibly the most words anyone in Riftwatch has heard him say in a row.
There are likely people in Riftwatch placed to better appreciate this outpouring of rationality; to Flint, has Vanya Orlov ever been anything but agreeable and deferential to the orders handed him? A man who does as he's asked and makes few complaints, and so hardly takes up any space in the day of Flint's thinking. There is nothing quite so pleasantly forgettable as a man who does as he's asked.
Still, he can appreciate the intention behind the process of laying an issue out in strict order. There is an reassuringly organized rationale to each part of the man's reasoning. How fucking novel: to be presented with the thought out facts of a thing rather than some half assembled rat's nest of a proposition. From behind his desk, Flint gives him a moment of serious and calculating study. It seems only fair.
"Okay."
Brevity is the correct reward to a concise summary like this one.
"Though I'm curious which of those points occurred to you first."
The relief he feels doesn't touch his features, but it's present nonetheless. A small part of him expected a no: no, we need you for fighting Venatori, or possibly even no, we have no use for you in Riftwatch anymore. That possibility is put away, quietly and firmly, at least for now.
However, he thinks the commander does merit an answer. That, or after all this time he's incapable of not answering a superior who prompts him. Maybe a bit of both. He says, "All three have been on my mind for some time. The recent events with Captain Rowntree emphasized that the first might be an imminent concern, I admit. And." He pauses, more than hesitates, before he says, "When the Gallows had its recent encounter with the enchanted soup, I had an conversation with Mlle. Baudin, in which she laid some of the the thoughts I'd previously had privately before me in starker terms."
There's a flexing, knowing line in his face which accompanies the sound. It makes loud the part which otherwise goes unspoken: Yes, well. Mademoiselle Baudin can be extremely persuasive when she cares to be.
"I won't ask what those points were." Largely because he can have them out of Gwenaëlle whenever he pleases, and he may as well ask for something more valuable while there is opportunity to do so. With an absent shift of his thumb along the desk's edge— "Rather, I would have your confidence. Should you take this step and later find that your relationship with the mages in the company continues to be strained, you're to inform me directly. Understood?"
"Understood, Commander." He might have left it there; he's relatively sure leaving it there is the better idea. But he'd rather say the uncomfortable thing now than revisit it later, if he has the choice. "If I am able to rely on them in the field, I do not expect no strain whatsoever. Under the circumstances."
"I don't expect them to embrace you. But I prefer that all the members of this company be pointing in the same direction. Resentment is a tricky thing in a place like this, Orlov, and I'd like to have its measure."
If they're not willing to bend a little in exchange for the sacrifice he's apparently prepared to make for the work, then something will need to be done. Hate the likes of Keen and anyone else who might still be running under the Order's sword all they like; there is a limit to what stretches outside of its shadow and can still be considered functional.
"I will keep you informed, then, Commander." If it feels uncomfortable to be, essentially, ordered to report when his colleagues are rude to him, Vanya tucks that away in the box labeled to feel something about later when you have time. (It's presumably a full box, at this point.)
"I will also keep you posted on my recuperation. I don't know exactly how long it will take, but I intend to be back on my feet as soon as the infirmary staff gives their permission." As if anything about him suggested a man who might malinger.
Well, so long as he's taking blatant advantage of Orlov's predilection to do as allegedly required:
"Assuming said staff will be keeping some watch over you through it, see that they're prepared to take down notes on the process. Should Mademoiselle Baudin lead someone to a similar conclusion, I'd prefer if we didn't lose all reference if our head healer wanders back in the direction he came from."
(That Vanya is likely to be of little help to offset that possibility goes without saying. It's difficult to gauge one's own discomfort. And because this whole endeavor puts even odds on him also disappearing into an—albeit entirely different kind of—ether at the hands of some Venatori mage.)
"And let them know that if we're short on anything it turns out that you require while convalescing—" A faintly flippant flick of the fingers. "The Seneschal's office is empty at present. I've some confidence the books can be rearranged to make allowances."
"Understood." If he has thoughts on the liklihood of Barrow or Keen signing up to go through the gauntlet he's about to run, he keeps it to himself. If nothing else, Riftwatch could pick up a new defecting Templar or two, one day.
"Is there anything else? Preferences on timing?" Since they were taking advantage of getting to choose.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Memo
no subject
Yet it is—novel. Enough so that Flint makes a point of picking some hour where Matthias is likely to be away from his desk lest the appearance of a Templar turn the boy grousing and sullen, and so somewhat diminish the overall atmosphere of the division office.
You're welcome, everyone.
no subject
He's been with Riftwatch for over a year, and in that time he hasn't given anyone cause to complain that he's late, or that he gripes, or that he doesn't pull his weight. He takes any assignment given to him and does it promptly and thoroughly. It's not enough, he knows, but it's what he can do, and so it's what he does. Flint, running Forces, knows the results as well as anyone in the Gallows, so it can hardly be a surprise when Vanya arrives precisely on time for the scheduled meeting.
"Commander," by way of respect and greeting; he still gives the impression, sometimes, of an instinct to salute. In lieu of that, he isn't seated without an invitation, waiting for Flint to take the meeting's lead.
no subject
(There's just the one on that side; further seating options would seem to invite being mobbed. At least this way should more than one person wish to ask him a half dozen irritating questions, someone must deal with the indignity of being made to stand to do so—)
Not that this fact has much bearing on the current circumstances. Here, Flint shifts the ledger sprawled before him to the side and draws one of the desk drawers open with a rasp of its fittings. A fresh page is rifled from it. Clearly, he's anticipating this to be the sort of meeting where one might wish to take down a note.
no subject
And there it is.
no subject
Flint hasn't gotten a far as fetching a pencil from the collection of writing implements in a nearby tin cup, and so there is no need to set it aside. Though the sense of the thing is in the way his ready hand turns idle on the desk—it seems there will be no note taking after all. Instead, Vanya is subjected to a brief and critical study; a flicking look of assessment.
"You'll forgive my ignorance," he says. "I can't say that I've much first hand experience with the Order's use of lyrium." Theoretical? Certainly. He knows the broadest strokes. But Templars are strange beasts in the north compared to their Southern brethren, and rarer animals still when it comes to the habitat of ships and rebel pirate islands.
"I assume this will impact your ability to challenge a mage in the field."
no subject
"There are three tactical reasons I would submit that support my request. First, if you'll forgive me noting it, there have been signs of strain in the relations between Riftwatch and the Chantry, even for someone removed from the details." It hadn't been hard to figure out, eventually, why Marcus Rowntree was grilling him on his connections. "Should that relationship fray to the point they are no longer willing to provide lyrium to those who do not have current ties of loyalty to the Order, I could face withdrawal at a time not of your choosing, which would likely sideline me for, at a minimum, a few days. It could come at an inconvenient or dangerous moment, if it isn't a choice." It's a reason he'd thought of before, but the situation seems newly likely.
"Second, as I'm sure you will have noted, many Riftwatch agents find my resignation of my post within the Templar organization meaningless while I still possess the ability to counter mages. I'd initially thought that my utility in fighting Venatori and other hostile mages would offset this drawback, but it has been clear to me that there are agents who would prefer to work with any other member of Forces. No one has ignored orders or done a subpar job in my experience, but even so ... if it is a stumbling block that I can remove, I would remove it."
A brief pause and then he says quietly: "And third, continued lyrium use could affect my memory and judgment. I've been ingesting it for nearly 30 years at this point, and the damage is possibly done. But from what I've heard of Commander Cullen's experience, it is also possible that you may get longer use from me as a soldier if I stop, which may somewhat offset the tactical drawback of giving up my lyrium-specific abilities."
It is very possibly the most words anyone in Riftwatch has heard him say in a row.
no subject
Still, he can appreciate the intention behind the process of laying an issue out in strict order. There is an reassuringly organized rationale to each part of the man's reasoning. How fucking novel: to be presented with the thought out facts of a thing rather than some half assembled rat's nest of a proposition. From behind his desk, Flint gives him a moment of serious and calculating study. It seems only fair.
"Okay."
Brevity is the correct reward to a concise summary like this one.
"Though I'm curious which of those points occurred to you first."
no subject
However, he thinks the commander does merit an answer. That, or after all this time he's incapable of not answering a superior who prompts him. Maybe a bit of both. He says, "All three have been on my mind for some time. The recent events with Captain Rowntree emphasized that the first might be an imminent concern, I admit. And." He pauses, more than hesitates, before he says, "When the Gallows had its recent encounter with the enchanted soup, I had an conversation with Mlle. Baudin, in which she laid some of the the thoughts I'd previously had privately before me in starker terms."
Apparently, he'd found her points compelling.
no subject
There's a flexing, knowing line in his face which accompanies the sound. It makes loud the part which otherwise goes unspoken: Yes, well. Mademoiselle Baudin can be extremely persuasive when she cares to be.
"I won't ask what those points were." Largely because he can have them out of Gwenaëlle whenever he pleases, and he may as well ask for something more valuable while there is opportunity to do so. With an absent shift of his thumb along the desk's edge— "Rather, I would have your confidence. Should you take this step and later find that your relationship with the mages in the company continues to be strained, you're to inform me directly. Understood?"
no subject
#rememberwhen (but no pressure)
If they're not willing to bend a little in exchange for the sacrifice he's apparently prepared to make for the work, then something will need to be done. Hate the likes of Keen and anyone else who might still be running under the Order's sword all they like; there is a limit to what stretches outside of its shadow and can still be considered functional.
sincerely into it
"I will also keep you posted on my recuperation. I don't know exactly how long it will take, but I intend to be back on my feet as soon as the infirmary staff gives their permission." As if anything about him suggested a man who might malinger.
no subject
"Assuming said staff will be keeping some watch over you through it, see that they're prepared to take down notes on the process. Should Mademoiselle Baudin lead someone to a similar conclusion, I'd prefer if we didn't lose all reference if our head healer wanders back in the direction he came from."
(That Vanya is likely to be of little help to offset that possibility goes without saying. It's difficult to gauge one's own discomfort. And because this whole endeavor puts even odds on him also disappearing into an—albeit entirely different kind of—ether at the hands of some Venatori mage.)
"And let them know that if we're short on anything it turns out that you require while convalescing—" A faintly flippant flick of the fingers. "The Seneschal's office is empty at present. I've some confidence the books can be rearranged to make allowances."
no subject
"Is there anything else? Preferences on timing?" Since they were taking advantage of getting to choose.
no subject
How easily this whole thing is converted from some kind of dispensation request into briskly cut orders.
"Report back once you've accomplished what you intend to."