Fort Weyr - Weyrleaders' Office
Aged by time, this office has lived through the ages of Fort just as its counterparts have. But unlike the Weyrsecond and Junior Weyrwomen offices, this cavern is spacious and formed in a rough semicircle of three conjoined caves that were carved and modified Turns ago. The middle portion acts as a waiting room of sorts, holding only a few modest chairs and a simple tapestry to otherwise brighten up the plain stone walls. There are no windows here and the only light comes from well placed glow baskets. To the right, the smaller of the two adjoining caverns has been set aside for the Weyrwoman, a large desk situated in the middle and a bookshelf pressed against the wall. A small hearth allows for some warmth in the colder months and another cabinet rests across the room to hold various supplies, as well as several books, reports and records. More tapestries have been hung there, lending some color to room. On the left, the larger cavern belongs to the Weyrleader's office and the walls here are littered with a vast array of maps, as well as a tapestry hung behind where he would sit. The desk is large and the wood aged, looking old and a bit worn, but well tended too. Shelves and a bookshelf line one wall, crammed with rolled hides, other maps, books, reports and records and all arranged in an organized chaos. A small hearth has been built in here as well and various well placed glow baskets are hung to offer just the right amount of light in this windowless office. Both offices have stout wooden doors that have been carefully worked into the stone. They can be closed and locked if privacy is needed but are often left open.
Early summer is upon the Weyr and already it's hot. Fitting, given they've had an unusual spring that arrived early and has thrown everything out of sorts. By afternoon, the humid air hangs heavy in the bowls, unaided by the lack of much of a breeze and the relentless sun beating down on stone that is intent on absorbing the heat and add to the misery. They may as well be in Igen, for all the discomfort! At least the skies are slowly darkening as clouds loom and gather. The few weyrfolk milling about outside will mutter about possible relief from a storm — if it rains at all. Of late, even the storms taunt and often drift by without a single drop.
None of this concerns Mr'az. He's spent most of his day holed up in the Weyrleader's Office, once a favourite haunt by another bronzerider. Various records and reports lay scattered across the desk and already a few minute changes have been made to the room. Mr'az making his mark, subtly undoing what little he can of Th'ero's presence. By rights it's his now to do with as he will and he's certainly settled into his position well. Too easily. It's as he's reading through a particular set of reports that he has Zhirazoth bespeak a certain blue, the bronze not wholly unfamiliar with speaking to Varmiroth though now there's an air of command behind his requests. Simple orders: tell your rider she is needed. Curt and to the point because why would there be any question to the purpose behind the summons?
Kimmila was waiting for this. Dreading it, almost, and she takes her own sweet time in reporting. Passive aggressive? You bet, but she doesn't give a damn. She finally arrives a full half candlemark after being summoned, braiding her hair and still damp from a swim. She's dressed casually, but for once she's actually wearing her knot. Not inviting trouble? Or reminding him that she /does/ have a rank and position? Hard to tell. "Sir," she greets, offering a salute that's proper enough as she enters the office.
Mr'az isn't a man to keep waiting but he'll grit his teeth and keep hold to his temper. At least he has this endless reading to keep him occupied, though one has to wonder how it helps. When Kimmila does arrive, he's half expecting a fight right at the gates with her tardiness but her offer of a proper enough salute throws him momentarily off guard. He'll stand and just long enough to return the salute as is proper and fitting between a man of his rank and the rank she carries. Supposedly carries. "Afternoon, Wingrider Kimmila." Ouch. It's not said in malice, just a statement of the truth. He gestures for her to sit, but he doesn't force the issue as he retakes his seat. "You'll have to forgive my ignorance in some of this. I've been trying to catch up on Turns of reports and records…" His hands spread out to indicate his desk with a grimace. There's also the unspoken hint of frustration there. He knows there are holes and he knows full well who is behind the "disappearance" of a few key items. He's not sure whether to be furious at Th'ero or marvel at the man's ingenious forward thinking. But he's not here to interrogate Kimmila — not yet, at least and not on certain political matters. What he wants to pin her down with today is what she was dreading. "I wanted to speak to you about your… 'wing' and your position, so to speak, as it stands." His hands clasp back together and he's watching her carefully as he waits on her reaction or lack thereof.
Kimmila sits when she's directed to do so, arching a brow at his words. Yup. She figured as much. "Go on," is her dry reply, complete with a hand gesture to go with her words.
"I'm not sure if I fully understand it's purpose or at least… why it came about as it did." Mr'az goes on to explain as he leans back into his chair, still fixing his gaze on her with an indifferent set to his expression. "Mind explaining it to me?" Of course, he could have just found the documents or asked around and surely he's seen for himself what her wing and the riders in it do. He's been at Fort Weyr long enough! Could be he wants to hear it directly from her and maybe, just maybe, if she plays her cards right, this meeting won't go as sideways as she worried it would. At least he's not outrightly saying he's stripping it from her?
Kimmila nods slightly, as if she expected him not to understand it. "It happened because of Stonehaven." And she pauses to make sure he's aware of that situation at least. If he isn't, she'll explain, but if he is, she continues. "We realized we needed someone - a point person - to keep track of the Cotholds and their needs. It didn't quite fit in with any other wing, so much. It wasn't all politics, or all search and rescue, or all transport. It was everything. So I was chosen to head up a different sort of wing - not a true wing - but one which drew from all the others, part time, to oversee the Cotholds in our territory." She shrugs. "In the old times it would have been a wing's duty, but when we switched to specialized wings, we needed to improvise to meet the need."
Mr'az isn't completely lost. Of course he heard of Stonehaven and of Laris and the whole mess it caused in Fort. He doesn't know a lot of the nuances and hidden details, but there's enough in his memory and knowledge that even the mention of it brings a darkened frown. He listens quietly from where he sits and long after she's finished he is silent. Eventually he'll lean forwards again, scrubbing his one hand along the underside of his jaw. Immediately it's obvious that he's made a decision and one that doesn't settle well with him. "I figured as much. A Wing that is not a Wing but serves a purpose that any rider worth half his salt would realize is needed — given Fort's… reputation." It's not meant as a slight. Just honest truth, something Mr'az is fond of using without realizing how it could come back to bite him hard. He gives Kimmila another scrutinizing look. "Who do you report to then?"
Kimmila hears him as Fort's entire area, not Fort itself, and given the facts she has to agree with him. "The Weyrleader," she replies, watching him impassively.
Mr'az quirks a brow at that and his smirk betrays that he figured as much. "Whichever Weyrleader is currently in place, I'd presume?" He's no idiot. He's heard the rumours and seen it for himself just how loyally bound she is to her weyrmate and he's smart enough to be wary of such a bond. Of just how much or how little she may report to him and what she may share instead with Th'ero.
Kimmila smirks. "The Weyrleader," she repeats. He is technically the Weyrleader. However. She'll still report to Th'ero as well, as anyone would talk to their SO about the day's work.
And that's exactly what Mr'az doesn't want. His gaze narrows, just a little bit but she'll see the suspicion lurking there. "Good. There will be information that I want shared only with me, not with others." Meaning, he doesn't want her to speak of anything to Th'ero beyond the usual cryptic replies. He may not say it outright but the look he gives her says it all: he knows she's bright and smart enough to read between the lines. "I'll let you continue with your work for now." For now? "With the way the holds are and this Turn has been, we need to keep a close eye on things."
Does he also know she's going to totally ignore his cryptic request? Th'ero, after all, doesn't count as 'others'. "As we always have, sir," she replies dryly. Have since before he was Weyrleader. Since before he was even here.
Of course he has his suspicions! Which leads to Mr'az sighing when he doesn't get the assurance he was looking for. "Listen. I need to know I can trust you Kimmila or this unorthodox wing of yours isn't going to work. I need to know that what's done is in the Weyr's best interest." More like HIS best interest. "Do I make myself clear?"
Kimmila arches a brow. "Didn't you just say that my wing was something that…" ahem, "any rider worth his salt would realize is needed?" Empty threats, Mr'az. Not a good way to start. "The wing is in the weyr's best interest."
Are they empty? Mr'az's smile is anything but amused. "And the leader of those Wings can be replaced, if needed. The idea, while not entirely traditional by today's standards, isn't entirely a bad one." Grudgingly he'll give Th'ero and Kimmila that. "My duty is to keep those here safe and protected. I can't do that if I can't trust the riders I have in certain key positions. Now do you see?" If she's wise, she'll at least pretend she does.
Kimmila snorts. "We've never worked together, Mr'az, and already you're threatening and implying you don't trust me?" She gestures to the records he was reading. "Have you reached my reports yet?" It's a pointed statement. Her reports are good. Very good. And she knows it. "You think changing positions now, when the Cotholds are still recovering, is what's best for their safety and protection? Bringing in someone new?"
"That's exactly it! We haven't worked together before, so we have to work on that and our trust." Mr'az counters in a firm tone, his voice taking an unusual raspiness to it and a slight inflection betraying his Reachian roots. "Of course I've read them. You're clearly a rider of talent and skill and so are the riders who follow you. Which is why I'm not just outright disbanding this Wing or reforming it." Don't think for a second he won't, either! He frowns, disapproving of her questioning. "I'll decide what is and isn't best for the Cotholds right now as far as our involvement goes. But that doesn't mean I don't want your insight. You know them better than I do. All the more reason to let you carry on. I think we've discussed enough, for now."
Kimmila nods, pushing to her feet. "And we will carry on, sir."
Mr'az doesn't rise from his seat but he will follow Kimmila with his eyes before nodding his head. "Clear skies then, Wingrider. I expect to have another one of your reports in the morning." Curt dismissal and with nothing more to say he looks down at the records and reports on his desk and wearily picks up yet another.
"As always, sir!" And then she's gone, closing the door behind her and saving her eye roll until she's well down the hallway.
Continued in: Live Among You