Jingling from sheathed sabers echoes through the hallways of the monastery as a black swordsbird meanders past candelabras, shrines, and holy articles he only dimly understands. His left wing is held slightly to one side, bent over a bundle secured under it with a soft leather sling, and a few snugly buckled straps, almost overly cautious.

Hurried footsteps, oddly muffled by vestments, sound as a crow approaches at the best speed that land-bound robed crows can make. Soon enough a monkish Korv appears, a book tucked under one wing-arm. "Cousin!" he calls. "Is that you, Cousin? Oh, thank be to the Great Gear for bringing us together again! I had not looked to see you again except at great length of time."

"Gergesene!" the swordsbird exclaims, even as he turns to face his cousin. "By Gretchen, it be good t'see ye again." Kensington grins around his beak, gesturing at the robes the other Korv is swathed in. "S'been too long already – yer goin' all bookish on me. What's it been since Einheimisch? A year?"

Gergesene caws laughter and leans forward to wing-hug his cousin. "Aye, it has well been that long, cousin, but it has been a year well spent for me in the study of the holy truths of the Celestial Order. I learn, and I begin to hope that I may be granted my dream, that I may be granted Warder's vows, to keep alive our borders against cursed Bosch." He looks down to see the sling. "Ah! I see your booty of the past year hasn't been all shekels and riches, I see. What have you here, Kensington?"

Kensington gives Gergesene a firm pat on the back, in the hug, but twists gingerly to one side to keep the sling out of the way. "Aye, well… that be part o' what I came back for, Gerry." He releases the monk, fiddling with some blankets over the sling as he speaks. "Does me heart good t'see ye doin' so well someplace I ne'er could… "

The blankets are drawn aside to allow smooth shell to peep up from the sling, a creamy color against the tanned leather.

Gergesene looks puzzled. "Why, it appears, dear cousin, as if you're swaddling a very chick!" He caws laughter and gives Kensington a wing-arm to escort him through the halls. "But surely I would have heard of it if my cousin had… found… a wife." He pauses on this very last word, seeing the shell.

Gergesene stops in the middle of the hall as if frozen in place. He stares at the eggshell.

"There's where I be somewhat… uh… adrift, cousin," rasps Kensington, coughing once midway through the sentence. He cradles the egg's weight in his wing for a few moments, before allowing it to lay back down. "Aye, I sired it."

Gergesene boggles. "You… sired it? Eh, ahem." He clears his throat. "And who is the fortunate damsel, dear cousin? Will she be joining us as well?" He starts fussing, as if he has a very good idea that "she" will not.

The corsair sighs gustily, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling, as though he knew this question was coming, and still didn't know how to answer. "… Nay… nay, she won't be comin' 'ere." He levels his gaze out again, shaking his head. "Try t'unnerstand, Gerry… we was brought t'gether by… by a passion fer life. Livin' fer the moment after some… strange happenin's." He trails off somewhat lamely.

The monkly Korv fusses a bit more with his robes as if checking that they weren't chafing against the straps of his chitin breastplate. "Well, then. Um. Romance of the moment and all… " His voice trails off, and then he squawks. "Kensington, what were you thinking? How can you raise a chick when you're flying all over the country doing – Great Gear forbid that I know exactly what it is you're doing – and without even a mother at home to make sure that the child gets all of the necessities of life? Oh, what if your child should grow up illiterate, knowing only the sky for roof and the ship for walls? What will I tell our loving parents and uncles and aunties?" He picks up his book and begins to bonk his own head with it.

Kensington's right wing slaps at the book. "'Ey… 'EY, knock that off! Belay that!"

Gergesene takes to sobbing into Kensington's wing. "Oh, cousin! What will I say to our Great-Uncle when he asks, 'Where is my grand-nephew, that I may bounce him upon my knee?' Give him to us as an orphan at least, and I'll see to it that he is raised with the tutelage of Chronotopia's great history and our laws, so that he won't grow up into a lawless fledgling, without even the chance we were both born with! Surely you can see that the boy would be well provided for here?"

Kensington shoves angrily at his cousin. "Stop yer bawlin'! This be me own flesh an' blood, an' I'll be damned if he or she be brought up widdout me t'look after'm! I ain't came 'ere fer yer lectures, or yer charity, or yer pity! I came… " He falters again, and takes a step back before turning his side to look away through an arch to the monastery courtyard. "… I came t'ask ye to be the godfather."

"But think of the child," Gergesene urges Kensington. "Surely you realize that the life of a privateer is no life for raising a chick, all alone and without others with whom he or she could play – godfather?"

Gergesene blinks almost audibly and tries to picture it.

Kensington turns his back on Gergesene, his wings folded and his tailfeathers flicking. "Aye. And… and I thought about all that. I thought about it fer a long time. I want this fledgling t'ave more'n I scrapped outta life. I saw lotsa things, an' I 'ad lotsa excitement, but… I don't want th' lil' rook to 'ave to fight things out like I allus did. I came 'ere t'think about it summore. Maybe it be time t'settle down."

This brings a pensive look from Gergesene, who fingers the cover of his book. "Cousin… " Gergesene says, and then no more as if words have fled him for once.

The swordsbird stares out into the courtyard again, as though trying to take some serenity from the garden. He stands quietly, letting the silence settle like dust over the monastery before stirring it again, this time more lightly. "P'raps a week from now… I'll enlist wit' th' Luftrittern. Regular pay… quiet patrols… family close by. They could use sommun wit' me experience. Maybe I could make it as'n officer 'ventually. The fledgling'd be safe 'ere. I could put 'im through school."

Gergesene makes the sign of the Gear. "If it is the will of the Great Gear, cousin Kensington. You may be sure that I will bend all my efforts toward seeing that you gain a good post with them, and I am certain that your good deeds in Chronotopia will be remembered." He looks at the sling and then up at his fellow Korv. "I humbly apologize, cousin, for speaking as though you were still the feckless, irresponsible cousin that I remembered so well from our childhood." A soft feathery chuckle follows. "Ah, the Great Gear works in mysterious ways."

"Eh, no love lost, old bird," rasps Kensington, glancing over his shoulder. He turns away from the archway, and takes a moment to rotate the egg in its sling before speaking again. "I still be 'avin' some time t'think about all this. Before that, though, I'm 'opin' ye'd do me th' honor o' comin' to the Ovum Baptae ceremony. I wants t'see to it the egg be blessed by the Gear 'fore I christen the child. It should hatch soon."

Gergesene nods. "It would be an honor, cousin!" he exclaims, straightening up, so that there's more than a little of the Landsknechts seen in his bearing.

Kensington looks pleased, and more than a little relieved. "It's a weight off me wings, Gerry. I knows there'll be questions, an' I knows I won't be able t'answers 'em right every time. But the fledgling comes before all that, an' I knew I could count on ye t'back me up. I'm gonna see t'wards speakin' with yer abbot about th' ordeal… an' I hope t'bring some friends t'celebrate."

Gergesene claps Kensington on the back, but not so hard as to jostle him. "Indeed, it will be a most joyous occasion, for all of us! Er, you won't take it amiss if I scribe a note to invite our family? There's those as haven't heard from you in some years, as they keep reminding me since I wrote to them of our exploits… "

"Well… ah, Dagh." The Korv hesitates a moment before tossing his free wing in the air. "What th' blessed bongin' bell, 'twouldn't be right widdout 'em."

Gergesene caws laughter. "Ah, language, cousin! You would never get by in these halls if you keep talking like that. But I'll forgive it as it's only you and I here. Now, I expect you'll want to see the abbot? It's just this way, and past the Great Hall. Which is in itself," he says as an aside, "most worthy of your viewing. I go there often to contemplate the ancient symbols of Chronotopia's wards."

Kensington nods, waddling into step with his cousin. His neck feathers ruffle a bit sheepishly. "Aye, I picked up a few 'abits in me years on th' airways. Probably a few I better kick. The 'abits, not th' abbot." He peers forward to try catching a glimpse of the hall before they reach it. "What news be there in Blitzheim, any'ow?"

"Well, Chronotopia as ever, remains a shining beacon of order and stability in this region," Gergesene comments to his cousin as he shows him around the monastery and the relics thereof. There are many tools which are said to have once been powerful workings or parts thereof, or which belonged to powerful workers against Boschian madness, but have been retired from service. "News comes to us slowly from the hinterlands. I've heard that there were new Gallisian incursions on Sylvania." He shakes his head sadly. "I should not be surprised if your service might call you thither, cousin."

The corsair cackles, shrugging his wings a bit. "Oh, I charted in from there on me way t'Blitzheim. Last I saw, the dogs were clearin' out wit' their tails 'tween their legs."

The priestly Korv tilts his head. "Is that so? I'd heard that it was a Khatta that drove them back. A black one, at that – Perhaps he's one of our own by bloodline!" He chuckles.

"Oh, I met th' fella!" Kensington grins, and clicks his beak once or twice. "A Khatta o' few words, not near flighty 'nough to be o' yer line. 'Ow's Jael doin'? Looks like Blitzheim's still standin', so the boy must not be doin' too shabby, eh?"

Gergesene chuckles. "Oh, no. I didn't mean of our line. But black Khattas are certainly one of the major species to be found here, you know. I was thinking that it would be quite a coincidence if the newcomer – he's supposed to be from Rephidim, did you know? – happened to be Chronotopian by descent." He rubs his beak a bit. "It'd certainly make things a bit simpler for our Kaiser if he were. There're those in our Parliament that favor Sylvania, torn as it is into so many fiefs, rather than lend support to Gallis, and those that say Gallis remains a greater emblem of order. And how is one to honor a treaty with a collection of independent nations, if no one spokesman can be found, eh?"

"So, that's how it is for Jael, at the moment," the priestly Korv explains. "He's a boy born to responsibilities too great for youth, so he must listen to those of grown ages explain how things must be on the one side, and how they must be on the other. They try to give him good guidance, but you know how it is; sometimes there's no reconciling between two parties. I pity him, but there is little I can do as a mere monk."

Gergesene signs the five-pointed Star again. "May the Great Gear grant that his decisions always be made with wisdom beyond his years."

The swordsbird nods thoughtfully. "Near as I recall, 'twas Sir Hehner what was gonna 'elps 'im, weren't it? 'E took that whole business pretty well, I'd trust 'im an' Steinhardt the senior to steer the boy right."

"Ah, but how far can they go before Parliament wonders if they've taken the Kaiser's powers for themselves? I swear, by the Star that guides us, it seems as if they vie for the very minutes that make up the boy's life, and were it not patently ridiculous, they might divvy up the hours of his sleep as well!" Gergesene exclaims.

Kensington nods thoughtfully. "Aye, p'raps I'll 'ave a chance to catch up in th' comin' months. So many things've 'appened. It feels like an age since I cames 'ome."

The priest stops near a large, complex-looking apparatus which consists of a crank attached to a wooden armature and twin rods of some kind of shiny metal leading off of it. "Would you care to turn the crank a few times, cousin? This device is said to aid in meditation and grant greater insight into the workings of Power. We are all bidden to turn it daily as part of our rites and training."

"Eh… " The other Korv looks skeptical. "That be soundin' like a bunch o' mumbo-jumbo what'd fly right o'er me 'ead."

Gergesene demonstrates, "Just turn the crank and concentrate on the Star that guides us. Imagine that you are praying to it to send you guidance." He puts the book on the floor and starts turning. The handle seems quite stiff and resistant, but the clicks of hundreds of gears locking together can be heard from the housing.

The machine hums loudly, and then a thin line of blue-white energy crackles from one bar to the other … and gradually works its way up the two bars, spreading out and accelerating … until it breaks apart and the process repeats itself.

Kensington looks briefly startled by the spark, but still doesn't look convinced. However, after a barely perceptible roll of his eyes, he rasps, "Fer the love of… oh, all right. I wouldn't be wastin' time like this on anybody but ye, Gerry, I hope ye know that." He sidles up next to the crank to await his turn.

Gergesene beams. "There! That is my prayer for your yet-to-be-born fledgling going up to the Star. Now you try it."

The priestly Korv steps back and genuflects, making the sign of the Star.

Kensington carefully unbuckles the sling under his wing. "'Ere then, 'old onto the egg so's I kin put some wing-grease inta this."

Gergesene chuckles and reaches out to hold the egg. "I've never held one of these before, old cousin, do you know? It will be a novel feeling for me as well. Imagine, we used to think of ourselves as if we would be young forever. Now… "

Pt! Ptoo! The swordsbird spits into his palms, and rubs them together…

Gergesene winces. His thoughts are obvious: This means that we novitiates are going to have to turn a handle coated with spit tomorrow… I'd better clean it off before tonight.

Laying his wingclaws on the crank, Kensington leans into it, straining to give it some starting momentum. "Hnn… "

Once again, the machine hums, and the same Jacob's Ladder display results as the blue-white spark travels up the slightly askew rods, widening and then dissipating at the top, and repeating the process again, crackling all the while.

Gergesene cradles the egg. "Well, well. A godfather, I. When I was a young fledgling training hard to get into the Landsknechts, I wonder if I ever thought of the day I would settle down… " He coos at the egg. "Will you be a boy or a girl, I wonder?"

Kensington's wings keep turning the crank, and the bird closes his eyes, his own voice speaking in his head. "Gear… I never really prayed for anything before… I never really thought about it or cared about it. I've always been my own man, and always wanted it to be that way. But now, there's someone else… I can't just live for myself anymore. And if it helps my boy or girl to lead a greater life, to grow up happy, to be raised wise, and to become strong, then I'll ask for any help you can give… Gear, hear me… "

The monk wipes away a tear. "Ah, I can almost see it… Magnificent! Truly magnificent, you in your uniform, your son by your side… I am sure it will be a son. He will surely be a great Luftrittern after his father. Do you hear that, little one?" He chuckles. "And I will be sure to tell him all the little stories his father does not want him to hear. But only as a moral example of what not to do in life."

The corsair's eyes remain squeezed tightly shut for a few moments more, churning at the crank as strongly as he can manage before releasing it and stepping back, letting his wings sag, and releasing a held breath.

Gergesene beams. "Do you feel any better, cousin?"

Kensington puffs a few moments. "I feels… tired. But I kin takes the lil' cannonball off yer wingclaws now, iffen ye like."

Gergesene chuckles. "I used to carry metal swords around… the very ones you carry, cousin. I imagine that I can carry this for you. The Abbot's office is rather up a few stairs. But I'll give it back to you before we go in." The priest winks. "After all, it would hardly do for him to think that it was I who had committed a slight indiscretion, hmm?"

Kensington smirks wryly, and tosses his beak. "I sees monastic life ain't affected yer sense o' humor. Right then, off we go."

Gergesene winks. "So, tell me about your travels, Kensington! I do feel a bit cloistered at times, you know, since our duties as novitiates rarely calls for us to see much of Chronotopia." He guides the corsair toward a corridor near the back of the hall.

The swordsbird cackles to himself. "Gerry, we could walks around the monastery 'till we wore a moat around th' wall 'fore I finished tellin' ye… but we kin gets a start, at least. It got innerestin' whens I were launched to another planet… "