Flyboys, Part Sixteen
Aug. 14th, 2006 10:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalNot quite a complete scene, but at least an extended and emotionally complete bit.
Two weeks later.
“Tell me why, oh Grand Vizier, how this manor house could be sucking down over 5,000 a month?” Rolas asked his brother. He laid his chin down on the edge of his mother’s... his study’s desk and looked up at the large pile of papers to his left, awaiting his attention, and the much smaller pile of completed papers to his right. Every one of them was note, or a memo, or a bill (mostly bills) that demanded his personal signature, not to mention money, always money.
Rulfen started ticking off points on his fingers. “Well, there’s the general maintenance fund, the special fund for replacing the roof next spring, salaries for an even twice eights of servants, food and board for same, schooling for their children, money for the various soirées you’ll be expected to host...”
Rolas moaned and covered his eyes. “No parties! I can’t be expected to host parties, I’m still in mourning.”
“Eventually you won’t be,” Rulfen said.
“Not if I can help it. Tell the servants to keep wearing black until... um... next spring.”
“Will you be paying for the extra cost to their wardrobes?”
He growled. “I’m starting to see the appeal of leaving everything an evil Vizier. Den Mother knows its easier than taking care of it oneself.”
“I’m starting to wonder how evil Viziers ever get the time for their nefarious experiments,” Rulfen said. “Speaking of which, however tragic Mother’s unexpected passing is, it does open one opportunity for us both.”
“No.”
Rulfen went on, ignoring Rolas’s protest. “With TO agreeing to pay for half the costs of creating the jigs to build their airship engines, we’re in a remarkably sound financial position. If Bel’s father can set up the cart manufacturing business as he intends to, we’ll be even better off. All the risk will be on his investors, and none on us. Which means we can devote some serious funds for an improved version of our glider, using the engine we built for our cart.”
“The answer is still no, Rulf. I’m serious. We... I have responsibilities beyond fooling around with aircraft. Maybe some day, when I’m older, when I’ve got a better handle on things, when I’ve a mate and cubs and things are settled. Not now.”
“All right.”
Rolas looked at his brother carefully. “All right what?”
“You’re Lord Greycoat, Rolas. If you say you don’t want to spend our House’s money on aircraft experiments, then we won’t,” Rulfen said.
“Oh.” Rolas sat a little straighter in his chair. “You’re fine with that, then?”
“Perfectly,” Rulfen said, then smiled. “What say we break for lunch? We’ve gotten through the worst of the pile for today. I want to go back to our old house and look over some of the design specs that Trans Oceanic sent to us so I can see what’s needed to scale up the engine to what their ships will need.”
“Oh, good. Tell me what your conclusions are when you get the chance,” Rolas agreed. “I’ll go get something for myself here. I’m sure someone is going to come along in five minutes and need me to decide something for them.”
“See you then.” Rulfen shook his hand and left. Rolas watched him go, looking out the study’s window, wishing he could have found an excuse to call him back. He couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t done everything together. Now they were growing further apart, and he didn’t know how to stop it.”
There was sharp knock at the door and Rolas sighed, turning away from the window. “Yes, come in please,” he called out, wondering what he was going to be asked to decide upon this time. He smiled when he saw that it was Bel who entered the room. Then he stopped smiling when he saw the expression on her face and she shut the door behind herself.
TBC
Two weeks later.
“Tell me why, oh Grand Vizier, how this manor house could be sucking down over 5,000 a month?” Rolas asked his brother. He laid his chin down on the edge of his mother’s... his study’s desk and looked up at the large pile of papers to his left, awaiting his attention, and the much smaller pile of completed papers to his right. Every one of them was note, or a memo, or a bill (mostly bills) that demanded his personal signature, not to mention money, always money.
Rulfen started ticking off points on his fingers. “Well, there’s the general maintenance fund, the special fund for replacing the roof next spring, salaries for an even twice eights of servants, food and board for same, schooling for their children, money for the various soirées you’ll be expected to host...”
Rolas moaned and covered his eyes. “No parties! I can’t be expected to host parties, I’m still in mourning.”
“Eventually you won’t be,” Rulfen said.
“Not if I can help it. Tell the servants to keep wearing black until... um... next spring.”
“Will you be paying for the extra cost to their wardrobes?”
He growled. “I’m starting to see the appeal of leaving everything an evil Vizier. Den Mother knows its easier than taking care of it oneself.”
“I’m starting to wonder how evil Viziers ever get the time for their nefarious experiments,” Rulfen said. “Speaking of which, however tragic Mother’s unexpected passing is, it does open one opportunity for us both.”
“No.”
Rulfen went on, ignoring Rolas’s protest. “With TO agreeing to pay for half the costs of creating the jigs to build their airship engines, we’re in a remarkably sound financial position. If Bel’s father can set up the cart manufacturing business as he intends to, we’ll be even better off. All the risk will be on his investors, and none on us. Which means we can devote some serious funds for an improved version of our glider, using the engine we built for our cart.”
“The answer is still no, Rulf. I’m serious. We... I have responsibilities beyond fooling around with aircraft. Maybe some day, when I’m older, when I’ve got a better handle on things, when I’ve a mate and cubs and things are settled. Not now.”
“All right.”
Rolas looked at his brother carefully. “All right what?”
“You’re Lord Greycoat, Rolas. If you say you don’t want to spend our House’s money on aircraft experiments, then we won’t,” Rulfen said.
“Oh.” Rolas sat a little straighter in his chair. “You’re fine with that, then?”
“Perfectly,” Rulfen said, then smiled. “What say we break for lunch? We’ve gotten through the worst of the pile for today. I want to go back to our old house and look over some of the design specs that Trans Oceanic sent to us so I can see what’s needed to scale up the engine to what their ships will need.”
“Oh, good. Tell me what your conclusions are when you get the chance,” Rolas agreed. “I’ll go get something for myself here. I’m sure someone is going to come along in five minutes and need me to decide something for them.”
“See you then.” Rulfen shook his hand and left. Rolas watched him go, looking out the study’s window, wishing he could have found an excuse to call him back. He couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t done everything together. Now they were growing further apart, and he didn’t know how to stop it.”
There was sharp knock at the door and Rolas sighed, turning away from the window. “Yes, come in please,” he called out, wondering what he was going to be asked to decide upon this time. He smiled when he saw that it was Bel who entered the room. Then he stopped smiling when he saw the expression on her face and she shut the door behind herself.
TBC
