The Crown rests comfortably on your head as you walk to the balcony, the sword on your hip. You squeeze your hand round the scepter and look out upon your subjects. All of Amber, all of Shadow lies at your command. You can see it all now – the throne brings such power, more than a title. Roland stands at your back, ax in hand; guarding you much as Benedict guarded your mother. "My loyal subjects, this is the day we have long dreamed of," you begin to say.
The pounding on the door wakes you from your sleep. No, the clap of thunder you quickly realize. Instantly you are awake and aware; your dream quickly fading into the ether. You hear the steps outside your door before the guard even knocks. "Lord," he shouts while knocking frantically. It must be 3 or 4 in the morning; what could be so important? "Lord, wake up. The sky! The sky! It's burning!"
Its not surprise they came running to you. Scarcely a month after you return to Amber, and your mother runs off on errand, some treaty renegotiation in Marbok, leaving you and your bastard brother Merlin in charge of the greatest kingdom in Shadow. Its only been a couple of days, and it mostly maintenance stuff, nothing serious, but the feeling of power is immense. Its good practice for when you really are King. Of course, Dara may not be fully trusting – she's left Benedict behind watching over you and Merlin. He hasn't interfered in anything yet, and might not even be paying that much attention. His presence though feels like an extension of your mother's arm.
The Queen is due back in two days, or rather that would be tomorrow now. Every year your mother has a huge anniversary party celebrating her marriage to your father, Corwin. This, the one-hundredth anniversary will be the largest party so far. The Queen has declared it a day of national celebration. The preparations for the party have already been taken care, and aren't yours, or Merlin's, responsibility. Other than attending to matters of state, your mother also asked that you present your to the new royal trump artist, Lady Ariadne, so that a new trump of you might be crafted.
The pounding on the door continues, "My lord. Please, wake up. The sky. The sky is on fire. The city in the sky is burning!"
Sitting up Brennus throws back the covers, his dream induced mood totally spoilt.
He sighs in exasperation before shouting at the inconsiderate peasant who has interrupted his slumber.
"What do you mean the sky city is burning you fatherless..."
Tailing off he decides not to bother with a description the guard is no doubt already familiar with. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and takes his head in both hands for a moment before rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
He stands and moves toward the wardrobe, as he nears it he shouts out to the guard once more.
"Bide, I shall come when I am dressed."
After some minutes deliberation he chooses suitable clothing, tunic and hose in red and black amongst them. Once he is dressed he unlocks and opens the bedroom door and steps out into the corridor.
Thunder claps and is immediately followed by flashes of lightning outside, as you dress. The hard clicking of sleet outside is a constant reminder of how strong the storm must be. Opening your door, you see one of the royal guards, assigned by Benedict to your personal royal guard. He is perhaps the youngest and newest addition, and that may be why he drew the undesirable job of watching over your room at this hour. Your memory strains for his name – Tyrus, perhaps. He bows deeply, his red and black uniform somewhat soaked. There is snow in his hair. – he must have step outside recently, meaning he might have left your room unguarded. Another guard is supposed to be with him, but you don't see him.
"So very sorry for waking you, your lordship, but, but," he stammers, "I think its important." Your personal guard would not be easily spooked or upset, whatever it is must at least seem serious to him. Or perhaps it is just fear of your wrath that scars him. Since your return, you've noticed that people, peasants, staff, guards, even royal assistants, have all been showing you an increased amount of respect and a bit of fear – a good step towards taking power. They no longer see you at all as a child, even if your mother does.
"The ghost city, Tir'Na Nogth," Tyrus explains, strengthening his composure, "it's on fire, sir. It's glowing red in the sky, even through the storm."
Brennus closes and locks his door without speaking, turning back to the guard he looks at him appraisingly before speaking.
"Tyrus isn't it? Very well, we will go and look upon this wonder, come."
Brennus strides away from his rooms and taking the lead, heads toward the nearest room with a view of Tir, as he walks his left hand rests upon the hilt of a silver hilted dagger, his head turns neither to left or right, but his gaze is far from relaxed.
Brennus hears the unfortunate guard scurry to catch up, from behind him the guard enquires weakly.
"Your lordship, shouldn't I go first?"
Brennus, pauses in his walk and turns to Tyrus. He smiles sardonically.
"Very well, you shall lead, but remember I am a prince and should be addressed as 'your highness', not 'your lordship'. I'd have expected your colleagues to inform you of that much at least... Also young Tyrus can you explain to me why you were guarding my door alone? There should be two guards. And why your uniform is wet, were my rooms left unguarded at any point?"
Brennus' expression gives no hint to Tyrus of his thoughts.
Tyrus nods when you ask him his name.
When you turn on him, a bit of fear and surprise is clear in his eyes. "Very sorry, your highness. Your broth-," he begins to say, but pauses. "It would happen again. I did your quarters, but Red stayed behind watching. Some servants were making a racket about the fire, and after speaking with them, I went to check for myself. That's why I'm wet, your highness. We decided it was an emergency, so I stayed to wake you, while, according to protocol, Red went to wake some of the other guards." There normally are four guards with you during the day, so it is likely that Tyrus wasn't too far out of line.
The nearest view of Tir is from a balcony in one of the lounges at the end of the hall. Tyrus hurries ahead, checking the room before proceeding in. He dims his lantern, and opens the balcony doors. A fierce cold wind comes blowing it carrying with it bits of ice, rain and snow. The cold cuts into you like a knife. Any portion of your mind that was groggy is now wind awake. Tyrus searches through the room, and finds an umbrella to keep you dry, although in such wind it would do little good.
The sky is darker and more fiercer than you have ever seen it before. Torrential winds buffet the castle. The sleet stings your skin, and you are forced to shield your eyes in order to see. From this angle, your view is mostly of the mountain and the sea. Giant waves buffet the coast and you wonder how many ships at port will Amber lose tonight? The visibility is very poor, but you can see up to the silvery city in the sky. A reddish light seems to emanate from it, and focusing yours eyes more you see the outline of Amber's castle, flames wrapped about it. The fire seems to extend throughout the city, and even through its grand arch and partially down its silvery steps. The entire ethereal city glows with a violent red. The winds up there must be even worse than here. Any fool who tried to venture up would be blown away and hurdled to their death.
Something else strikes you as odd, but its a moment to realize what it is. You can't see the moon – its buried behind clouds. Tir'Na Nogth shouldn't be visible.
Tyrus relates his tale and begins showing signs of fear or perhaps nervousness, Brennus merely nods his expression difficult to read.
Following behind Tyrus Brennus ponders what sight may await him. When the window is thrown open and the damp and cold flood into the room, Brennus shudders and draws his shoulders higher and closer together.
Brennus gazes up at the sky his face impassive, but as Tyrus begins searching for an umbrella Brennus calls across to him.
"Forget that boy, come over here, take a look at the sky city, you may not get another chance."
Tyrus hesitantly comes to stand abreast of Brennus, after some moments Brennus speaks without turning his head.
"Listen Tyrus my lad, try to remember when you address a member of the royal family or a someone of noble blood, proper protocol must be followed. If one of my family allows you to address him in a familiar manner, that doesn't mean all of them will. Some may even be mightily offended... you see, it's for your own good. Now, go find out who else is present, family members that is. When you've found out come find me in the library. Quickly now."
His gaze still intent upon the blazing city above Brennus waits for Tyrus' muttered acknowledgement and the sound of retreating footsteps before stepping back from the window and making his way to the library.
"Yes, your highness." Tyrus says with a bow, before departing. You could sense some unease in him, mostly concealed, when you referred to family members allowing him to them familiarly. He quickly leaves, shutting the doorway behind him, leaving you watch the scene in the sky. The storm must have risen up from almost nothing. The sky was clear when you went to bed, and there were no indications that a storm front would be moving in.
As you turn from the window to leave, you hear the sound of new footsteps, three people, outside the door. From the sound of armor and weapons and the manner of their walk, you'd guess them to be royal guards, probably the rest of your personal guard. Whoever it is, remains in the hallway, not entering.
The three guards outside the room, escort you to the library. The relief on their commander's face is clear when he sees you unharmed. He says nothing though, focusing instead on providing silent protection and service.
The dark solitude of the library is penetrated when you enter, turning on the new Guild lighting system. Two of the guards take station outside, while their commander, Lieutenant Alvers, personally stands watch over you. The sleet upon the frosted library windows is accompanied by frequent rolls of thunder - masking any sounds of life within the castle. The library is one of the few places that still maintains an ancient quality. Other than the new lighting system, the room remains must as it was in your childhood, filled with books from across the realm and from times unspoken. Almost a quarter of the books are said to be from Shadow, brought back by venturing Princes.
Your eyes stray down and catch upon a book, open on the table. A poem, tragic and beautiful leaps from the letters on the pages and into your consciousness. Something in you stirs... a memory. You find yourself anticipating and expecting the next words on the page before you read them. A love poem - one that you are sure ends tragically. You can almost hear it being spoken in your ear. Your eyes look to the footer of the page. The Collected Poems of King Corwin I - Volume III.
The doors swing wide and Tyrus coming bursting in. You hadn't heard his approach over the storm's thunder. He takes a deep breath even as he bows. "Your.... your highness." He takes another breath - clearly he's been running around the castle for the last fifteen minutes. "Your highness, according to their personal guards, both of your brothers are in residence. Prince Merlin is in his chambers, but Prince Merek is elsewhere in the castle," his voice lowers, "His guards refused to tell me where. The Lord Protector is here, as well, and the Princess Florimel is away. That's everyone, your highness. Oh, and, of course, the Lady Ariadne is in her tower as well." Tyrus takes another bow and a step backward, awaiting your instructions.
(OOC: You, Merlin, Merek, Dara, Benedict, Flora, and Ariadne are the only royals who make their primary residence within the castle.)
Brennus listens in silence, his expression once again neutral as Tyrus makes his report, Brennus’ eyes narrow slightly when Tyrus reaches the point where Merek’s guards’ refuse to divulge details of Merek’s location, but Brennus shows no other reaction. When Tyrus finishes, Brennus nods once, and casually moves around the table on which the book of Corwin’s poetry sits, then turns to Alvers.
"Lieutenant, we shall visit with Prince Benedict, see that your men are ready, Tyrus will lead the way.”
Brennus' speech is almost a monotone.
Turning to Tyrus, Brennus comments in a more animated manner and with a small smile.
“Lead on Tyrus, you know where the Lord Protector is right now I assume?"
[I am assuming that you want Alvers to ready your entire personal guard. You and he probably have good communication skills, so he'll know what you meant, if it was something else, and I'll edit the post.]
Alvers nods, understanding your order.
"Yes, your highness. He was up in the gardens, watching the storm." Tyrus responds, before leading the way. The guards outside the room fall seamlessly in step behind you.
The royal gardens that Tyrus leads you to are at the top of the castle, under a luxurious glass ceiling that perfectly fosters the rare plants within. The air in the garden is moist and warm, a stark contrast to the dry and cold atmosphere that dominates the rest of the castle. After seeing the budget and other administrative papers of late, you know the gardens are far more expensive than others would guess. For the same prince, the Queen could command legions of new troops or conduct massive civil projects. Several teams of highly skilled gardeners are employed year round to maintain many of the exotic plants, many of which hail from deep in Shadow. Luckily the garden is also a private one - free from the swarms of commoners who would certainly ruin it if they were allowed access.
The garden is almost completely dark, save for a few plants that live only under constant sunlight. On a normal night, the moon would illuminate the garden and its misty air, giving it an almost mystic quality. Tonight however, the garden is lit only by the streaks of lightning and the glow from the ghost city. Here, the roar of the wind is amplified and the pounding of sleet is like a drum roll on the glass ceiling. The view of the sky city and the storm is a marvel though.
The tall lanky form of your uncle is silhouetted by the lightning near the center of the gardens, where a marble statue of the unicorn rises up. His eyes peer upward, his arms are folded in front of him. No weapons adorn his body, but you are certain that the master of death has something hidden away. Benedict makes no move to acknowledge your entrance, and simply stares upward at the sky.
Leaving the guards at the door Brennus strides slowly through the garden. By the intermittent light he sees a great profusion of plants from Amber and surrounding shadow. A brief smile crosses his face as he notices the Velanthian chiming orchid that he brought back as a present for his mother. It’s purple and silver petals now appearing a dull grey. As he passes he brushes the flower lightly with his finger tips and hears very faintly the expected bell-like tinkle.
Moving up toward Benedict, Brennus finally comes to a stop some ten feet away, he is sure that Benedict is aware of his presence and no doubt was aware of his passage along the nearby corridor and stairway before he even entered the garden.
Brennus studies the patch of sky that Benedict is facing for a moment before he speaks.
“An unusual display isn’t it? Can’t say I’ve seen or heard of the like, but then I’m a mere whippersnapper.”
Brennus’ expression is passive as he waits for Benedict to answer, fully aware he may get no response.
Benedict turns to you, his face passive and unassuming. If his eyes appraise you, it is difficult to tell, as he quickly turns his vision back to the chaotic heavens. The Lord Protector remains silent for a long moment and does not speak until the next clap of thunder rings through the garden.
"Did you know, Prince, that this arm was not the product of Guild devising as so many believe? Before you were born, at the end of the War, your father took it from that place, carving it from the strands of moonlight." Benedict raises his mechanical arm, its gem-like surface reflecting the light from the burning city. "He went to Tir-na Nog'th looking for answers, and brought this back. Time should seem shorter at my age, but it feels as though it were ages ago." There is the briefest note of sorrow in his voice, as his voice fades almost to a whisper.
He turns to you, examines his mechanical arm with his flesh one for a second and then holds them behind his back. You can almost picture your mother standing in front of him. So frequently, she would rule over court, with Benedict quietly watching over her. The illusion is quickly broken as you realize he stands ready not for your mother's orders, but for yours.
Brennus listens to Benedict in silent reverie, a reverie that continues for some seconds after Benedict’s words end. He moves slowly forward to come abreast of Benedict, and looks up into the sky.
Without turning his head asks.
“Is this a threat to Amber, an evil omen, or a sign of doom? … I meant it about being a whippersnapper Benedict,” Brennus grins here for a second, before his face once more becomes passive.
“I simply don’t have your years. Has there ever been an occurrence such as this?”
"This is not an age of prophets, Brennus." Benedict replies calmly. "It does not bode well, but it may not offer an immediate threat. There have been disturbances before, but none quite like this. The storm, on the other hand, does seem familiar. It reminds me of the Shadow Storms that covered the realm a century ago. The barriers between the Shadows will weaken - places will cross. The tools that my granddaughter used to stop them before are gone, but perhaps this one will fade on its own. Whether it causes the excitement of Tir-na Nog'th or it is the reverse, I can't say." The sleet and rain continue to pound the glass roof as you watch the sky. Hidden within those beats is the near silent hiss of Benedict's curling metal fingers.
Brennus stands silently listening to Benedict’s words, his expression remains passive, to some he would appear aloof.
Brennus turns from the window and looks Benedict full in the face. He speaks slowly, an act of deliberation rather than hesitance.
“Could this be a natural phenomenon Benedict? I find that a somewhat improbable suggestion. If there is even a chance that this is caused by an intelligence of some kind we need to be prepared."
Brennus turns and walks towards the garden, after a brief moment he speaks once more without turning.
"But how does one gather information on such imponderables? Must we look for anything strange, weird? “
Gesturing toward Tir-na Nog’th he continues, “we have that already... ”
"The storm could be natural," Benedict seems hesitant to use that word, and pauses for a moment as a clap of thunder rings out. "But I suspect," he continues, "that it is a by-product of the situation with Tir-na Nog'th. Behind that, there is some agent of power."
"There are those that study these questions, Prince, perhaps you should seek their counsel. Consider that if Tir-na Nog'th fades with the morning's sun, then so might the Storm - even now it seems to steady. We still must determine what is responsible though - anything weird, as you say, might be a good place to begin. I fear there is little to be done now though. I do not need to remind you that you have others duties as well. The Storm will not leave Amber unscathed - there will be wounds that will need attending."
Brennus nods curtly as Benedict reminds him of his duty.
“Indeed Benedict, I am fully aware of my duty to Amber in my mother’s absence. A duty you share to some extent Lord Protector… Very well, I shall go roust out my brother Merlin and together he and I shall organise whatever measures may be needed. In the meantime I would be obliged if you would go and take a look at the Pattern. If this is an unnatural event as seems likely, then perhaps there will be signs of some sort there also. After that I would have you pass on anything germane from whatever intelligence sources you are privy to.”
Brennus turns as if to leave, but at the last moment turns back toward Benedict. His expression is passive but has overtones of melancholy.
“Benedict, suggestions are always welcome, you are still my master of arms, my teacher, and I suspect you always will be. That said I won’t promise to do as you say. Until later then.”
Brennus turns and walks from the gardens.
Benedict nods at your request. "It was my next destination."
When you turn with your final comment, Benedict smiles. "If you always obeyed, Brennus, then you would be a poor student, indeed."
The guards close ranks around you as you depart the garden. They seem more nervous now then before, as though your conversation with Benedict had sparked new fears in them.
With a nod to the guard Brennus orders Tyrus to lead on to Merlin.
The castle seems more alive than when Brennus walked through it on the way up to visit Benedict. Word of the events in the sky have spread, and the castle is buzzing with activity. The servants and other castle residents seem alarm by the sight in the sky. They all calm and attempt to maintain their composure as you pass by.
You reach Merlin's room. Two guards are stationed outside, much as Tyrus was supposedly stationed outside of your room. The guards, already at full attention, salute as you approach. They are dressed the same as your guards with the exception of a green sash with Merlin's seal upon it.
As Brennus approaches Merlin’s room, he turns to Alvers and with a sardonic smile nods before speaking.
“Thank you Lieutenant, you and your men are dismissed. I think I can look after myself from here, but you’ll be sure to arrange a full and proper night time guard on my chambers in future won’t you?”
Brennus holds Alvers’ eye for a moment before turning away.
Briefly Brennus inquires of Merlin's guards as to his whereabouts, Brennus then knocks on the door quite loudly, and calls out.
“Brother, are you awake? Merlin?”
Anyone in a position to see Brennus’ face might see the merest trace of a quirky smile.
After a few seconds, you can hear the shuffling of footsteps within, not moving directly to the door, followed the opening and closing of some chest or cabinet. The footsteps approach the door, and it swings open without a word. Merlin is dressed in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms and velvet robe, black on the outside, red on the inside. His hair is a mess, although that condition is not a rarity in your brother.
"Brennus," Merlin smiles. "I can't say I'm surprised to see you tonight." He shivers slightly, and you can feel his eyes evaluating you. The air from his room is many degrees warmer than the cold air in the corridor. "Why don't you come in?"
The sitting room at the entrance to Merlin's suite is lavishly decorated with rugs and throws, giving it a genuine feeling of warmth even if it is slightly claustrophobic. This feeling is aided by the glow of candles throughout the chamber. Merlin's quarters are probably one of the few rooms in the castle that still lack Guild designed lighting systems. Two bookshelves line the walls, each double-stacked with worn volumes of text. Numerous paintings are hung throughout the room, many of which border on the surrealistic - probably painted by Merlin himself. There are two other doors out of the room, each closed. There are several comfortable looking chairs, as well as a couch, throughout the room. Loose sheets of paper, covered in sketches and various writings, are scattered throughout the room, adding to the room's crowded and chaotic feel.
Through the windows on the far wall, you can see the storm still at work. It might even be possible to see Tir-na Nog'th burning from this room's vantage point.
When invited in Brennus smiles and gives a nod, he steps in past Merlin and heads for whichever of the chairs gives the best view of the window.
When he has sat down he asks quietly, "I take it you have seen the aerial display? You'd best dress we have things to do."
Merlin nods. "Its hard to miss." He digs through a stack of papers you might have mistook for trash, and pulls out a small packet of papers, loosely bound. "Here, this might interest you, while I dress. Apparently there's been some security problems abroad lately - just one of the many details mother left unspecified. You've seen more time in the service here than I have - it might be more up your alley. Came in last night." He tosses you the papers and heads into the next room over, presumably to dress. He seems cool and collected, but you suspect it is just an act.
The papers are a report prepared by Amber's embassy in Begma, although its possible that some of the information in the report was gathered through less official channels. According to the cover sheet, the report was then filtered through the office of Secretary Anita Chantris, attached to the office of foreign affairs.
According to the report, an attack by a force identified as "The Army of the Black Lion" was carried out two days (almost forty eight hours from now) in the city of Gofstan in the nation of Begma. Gofstan is a medium city along the developed border of Begma. The attackers objective was unclear, but they were met with minimal resistance, and caused a large amount of property damage, as well as an estimated sixty two casualties. The army, or a force by the same name, has been responsible for raids against numerous small Golden Realms in the past month, although this is the first attack against a major city in Begma. They are well trained, and well armed. They might be of the same caliber as the army of Amber, but they lack the size and resources that Amber has to offer. The Begman government is asking for official assistance from Amber, according to a clause in the Golden Realm Treaty relating to attacks from Shadows - in all likelihood, a representative from Begma will ask for an audience in the next day. You also notice in the report, that many of the casualties and much of the property damage was caused during a battle at a Guild facility in Begma - perhaps another reason while Merlin put off dealing with it right away.
It would take some time to mobilize Amber's forces and reach Begma, but there is a large standing force ready in Eregnor, designed for just this purpose. The dukedoms not only provide a steady flow of income for your mother's realm, but also provide a location from which to stage and launch military assaults.
The report goes on in some detail about the assault and the known make up of the Army of the Black Lion. It is very dry reading - very clinical and detached. You don't have a chance to really dive into the substance of it before Merlin returns, fully dressed.
Merlin is dressed almost completely in black with a silvery gray undershirt under a black jacket. His outfit is practical, yet carries a sense of formality. As he enters, he is tucking a red handkerchief into his breast pocket. He takes a seat outside you, and begins donning his black boots. "Hell of a way to start our last day on the job, huh?" he comments with a glance behind him and out the window. It seems to you, that the storm is lessening - the beat of sleet and rain on the windows only a soft roar now.
Brennus sits with his left leg cocked over the chair arm, idly bouncing his foot, as Merlin dresses he looks through the papers and after the third time he has to untangle the excessively crumpled pages he comments, “Interesting filing system you have brother mine.”
Brennus looks up as Merlin comments that this is their last day in command and nods has he concurs, “Indeed, mother will be a welcome sight for us both I’m sure. By the way this Army of the Black Lion will keep, but I’ll have the forces stationed in Eregnor put on alert, won’t hurt to have them ready. But then there's no need to jump in feet first either, the Begman’s won’t expect action that quickly in any event I’m sure. I also think we need to know who’s leading this little shit-kicker brigade! So a little intel job seems in order too.”
With this Brennus stands and turns toward the Merlin, he changes the subject abruptly.
“Benedict seems to feel that this storm may be a natural phenomena, personally I have my doubts, if there is any fallout from this little lightshow, whatever it’s nature or origin, I want it dealt with efficiently in the shortest time and with minimum effort. Shall we go Merlin?”
Glancing at his brother Brennus continues, “… and a united front is in order I feel, you agree I hope?”
He pauses for a moment before continuing in a completely serious manner, although it may be that he intends his comment to be humorous.
“Lead on Merlin, to the conclusion of our glorious tenure as co-regents.”
"There are some speculations on the bandit's leader in the report. Nothing but rumors though. Probably not critical, but it'll be good to have something in motion when mother returns."
Merlin moves to the door, but doesn't open it immediately. "Its possible the storm is natural, but I wouldn't bet two cents on it. You're right, there will be fallout from this. Have you ever seen the carnage reaped by a Shadow Storm? Things from here and there all tossed together. Turns into a real mess. Even if it wasn't for that, its natural force would cause damage enough. We'll need to prepare cleanup crews, set up some emergency shelters somewhere - in this cold, any of the citizens rendered homeless wouldn't last a day. We'll have to tend to the docks as well - see what kind of damage it did to the fleet. Its a right mess. I suggest we gather all the resident bureaucrats and kick them into action." He turns the handle of the door, and opens it wide. "After you."
Brennus listens to Merlin and nods in agreement to his words, when the door is opened he smiles slightly and passes through. Turning halfway he waits for Merlin and walks side by side with him toward the council chamber.
“It’s a good thing we can agree on this since it’s probably the only emergency worthy of the name we’ve had since mom’s been away.” Brennus remarks as they walk.
“Shall we divide and conquer so to speak, I’ll deal with this Black Lion business first if you’ll start organising the immediate area. Once I’m finished with that we can apportion tasks such as checking the status of the docks and the navy as seems most appropriate. One thing we shouldn’t have to worry about is cross-shadow drop-ins, I’m sure Julian will be able to deal with any, assuming this is a Shadow Storm of course.”
"Its a Shadow storm brother, of that I'm fairly certain. The why of it is the mystery. The majority of the Shadow drifts will occur in Arden, but we still may see a few in the city and nearby. A few boats might drift into our waters, but I doubt any of it will be of too much concern. Whatever the Storm drags in will likely be from the Golden Realm anyway."
Merlin turns to his guards and begins rattling off a laundry list of ministers, secretaries, and other bureaucrats he wants summoned to the council chamber. "I don't know how they could sleep through this, but any are deep sleepers, don't hesitant to toss them out of bed."
Once the guards set off, Merlin returns his attention to you. "Plan sounds fine to me. I'll set the recovery effort underway while you do all that army stuff."
Brennus smiles and bows with a fair amount of irony.
"Indeed Merlin, I shall attend to my army stuff as you put it. I'll join you in the main council chamber once I'm done. I'm sure I'll enjoy watching you organise the relief effort, and who knows perhaps I may even be able to contribute in some small way."
Brennus smiles as he speaks and with a jaunty nod sets off alone toward one of the auxiliary chambers keeping a lookout for any passing servants or guards as he does so.
The recent chaos has brought many out of their beds, so it is with ease that you find servants to fetch military and intelligence personal to the council chamber for your planning session. A young girl, probably still in her teens, is exchanging whispered words with one of the castle guards. From her uniform and the tray of dishes you'd surmise that she is assigned to the kitchen staff. At your approach they quiet, the guard stands at attention, and the girl timidly lowers her head. You send her, the guard, and a few other servants you fetch the personal you'll require. The names of all of the relevant personal are still a jumbled mess in your mind, but you think you recall all of them.
You arrive at the auxiliary council chamber, a barren room, whose only decorations are a painting of your grandfather, old King Oberon, and a woven purple tapestry depicting the Unicorn. There are no windows here to observe the storm, a decision probably made out of military concerns, as this room occasionally functions as war-room. You recall the last time you were here, during the planning stages before the invasion of Eregnor.
None of the personal you've summoned have arrived yet, though you presume they are on their way. Your early arrival gives you time to more carefully read the report Merlin gave you. The corners of the report are bent, and a small blue stain mars the back cover. Merlin's slovenly habits would probably lead the entire kingdom to ruin if he were ever to become King.
You familiarize yourself with the previous attacks. They've been going on for long enough that several other, older, reports are cited - reports that your mother must have seen. Several unconfirmed incidents from over a month ago are listed as well. The attack on Begma seems to have bumped the situation up a level in importance. From the pattern of attacks, the army either has free movement from several Golden Realm states, knows some undisclosed Shadow paths or has some other method of traversing Shadow. The possibility that several of the Golden Realms would be aiding the army is unlikely, but if true it could pose a serious problem for the empire.
Little is known about the leader of the Army of the Black Lion. The few sources available refer to the leader as the Lion, but additional, less reliable, sources seem to indicate that his real name is Haden. There is a vague reference to service in the War of Princes and to King Eric. A note is made that additional checks into King Eric's military operations are being conducted, especially concerning a commander by the name of Hald Feldane.
The staff you sent for all seem to arrive in quick succession. You know most of them by face, but a few you know only by name, and a couple are strangers - assistants brought by others. Commander Garret, the older cousin of your friend Maer, is one of the first to arrive, dressed in light armor, and armed with a heavy blade. He bows before you, lowering himself to one knee. "Your excellency." Your dream of earlier comes back to you for a second and you can easily imagine getting used to the humbling of great men before you. He reminds you a little of Duke Roland, but less wild.
One of the last to arrive is the secretary whose input is probably most valuable, Anita Chantris. Her bearing is clearly noble - a beauty whose veins flow with the blue blood of an ancient and respected family. She appears young, but you suspect that the years lie as much for her as they do you. Her slightly pale skin is contrasted by the black hair tied in an elaborate knot - perhaps the activity that caused her relative delay. She moves with a grace that most would attribute to etiquette classes and dance instruction, but in which you see hints of weapons training. Her black uniform, typical of Dara's staff, would normally conceal the details of her form, but Anita seems to have adapted somehow, and the outfit seems to subtlety enhance her beauty. "Your highness," she says softly as she bows before you. Her eyes flit to the report on the table, and her lips curve upward in a smile. "How can I be of service?" It seems difficult to believe that somebody so full of life could have written a report so dry and dense.
Brennus nods and smiles in acknowledgement of the assembly’s respectful manner of greeting, then with a negligent wave of his hand he responds.
“Please be seated, we may as well have our ease.”
Turning to the servant girl he had seen earlier he orders refreshments, then casually takes the seat at the head of the table as is proper.
Once all are seated Brennus casts his eye over the assembly giving words of greeting to those he knows, singling out Garret, Brennus nods and smiles then enquires, “How are you Garret, and Maer, he is well I hope? Give him my regards won’t you.“
"I fare well Prince, as does my cousin, though he has spent much time at his father's bedside these past few weeks. I'll be sure to give your regards on my next visit to the estate." Brennus had not heard any news of Maer's father, but does recall hearing of Maer's brother's death during Random's insurrection, leaving Maer to inherit his father's fortune. "The news of your return to Amber were glad tidings to both of us." Garret brushes a lock of black hair streaked with gray behind his ear as he speaks. There is a glint of light, reflecting off his prismatic left hand - a Guild replacement, though Brennus cannot recall hearing how Garret lost the hand.
Brennus replies with a brief nod and smile. Pleasantries dealt with Brennus turns to the matter at hand. He addresses his audience in a more formal manner, looking pointedly at Anita Chantris as he does so.
“Very well, I have rousted you out from your beds or wherever you were when the summons came to discuss the situation regarding the Black Lion Army. I trust we are all familiar with this miscreant band of cutthroats?”
Brennus pauses to allow the assembly to acknowledge or disavow such a thing, whilst still meeting lady Anita’s eye. His expression seems almost amused as he concludes.
“I personally only heard tell of them this very morning, interesting my lady wouldn’t you say?”
The group, many groggy eyed, generally nod at your question, though it is likely that many of them are only vaguely aware of the situation, and would likely require a more thorough briefing.
Anita tilts her head slightly, while the young aide to her side, straightens up, seemingly nervous. "The latest incident only reached our office yesterday, Prince. Prior to this attack on Begma, the situation was not deemed critical."
Brennus inclines his head slightly and comments with an ambiguously questioning tone, “Indeed?”
He then nods and looking around states flatly, “Very well, to be sure we all understand the situation I will reprise the content of this report, that way I can be sure we all have the relevant facts. Let me know if there is anything I have missed.”
Then as good as his word Brennus launches into a précis of the report; his delivery is crisp and precise with no divergence from the subject matter.
Having completed his summary Brennus turns to Lady Anita once more and asks, “Now my Lady, please if you would, explain why I received this report second-hand so to speak, from my brother Merlin no less. While I acknowledge that the situation may not necessarily be threatening to the Crown at the moment, I do feel I should have been informed.”
Anita answers calmly as though this was a question she was expecting. The aide at her side seems nervous, though Brennus might be the only one to notice. "A bureaucratic oversight, your highness. My office is accustomed to preparing a single copy of our reports for the crown. It could just as easily been sent only to you. I assure you, Prince, such a mistake will not occur again." The aide's throat tightens ever so slightly at these words.
If Brennus was angered by this omission he gives no sign, remaining impassive during Anita’s discourse, but he does glance pointedly at her aide. Finally with a trace of a smile he comments, “Very well, a misunderstanding then.”
Brandishing the report nonchalantly Brennus goes on, ”Now my Lady, this refers back to some of your earlier reports, how long has this rabble been a problem? Specifics please, how long has this been going on?”
Anita nods, and takes a file from her aide. "It is difficult to say, as reports from the border of the Golden Realm are unreliable at best. Confirmed operations of the Army of the Black Lion go back approximately one month, with numerous other incidents, that might be attributed to them, having occurred as early as three months ago. " Anita opens a file, and briefly flips through it.
"Three months ago, reports came to us of an attack on various villages in the Darklands - a desolate realm on the border of the Golden Realm. A week later, a report came in of an attack by a military force against the capital of Ambrose. The attack was turned away, but the invading force fled, with the forces of Ambrose in pursuit. A disappointing turn of events, doubly confounded by the fact that we lacked military forces in the area to move in and follow through." Brennus is unfamiliar with the realm of Ambrose, but is fairly sure it is not a Golden Realm.
A short, fat man with a few patches of hair scattered on his head, jumps in quickly to comment. "We now a team of agents in place, to take advantage of any further opportunities that arise. The purported Black Lion incident occurred less than a week after the Queen's decree to eliminate the Ambrosian monarchy." Brennus believes the man's name is Daedus, one of the many secretaries whose actual job involves covert actions on behalf of the crown. His ugliness is said to be rivalled only by his effectiveness.
Anita goes on to discuss several other military actions performed by unknown groups in the past three months, along with specific dates. Most have to do with raided caravans normally outside of, or on the edge of the Golden Realm. "It was not until after the second of the confirmed attacks that the we launched an investigation to track down possible prior activities of the Army of Black Lion. There is some evidence linking each of these affairs to Black Lion, but nothing definite."
Brennus purses his lips, a habit he has become aware of lately.
“So I can assume then that until recently we have had no reason to take any concrete action against them? Or are we making any efforts to counter them?”
Eyes glance around the room, waiting for somebody to speak up. Finally Anita speaks up. "Currently none, your highness." She seems almost surprised by the question. "We've engaged in some investigative actions, but no military force yet. So far, the Army has not attacked any close allies or any of our distant territories. In fact, several of their operations have been deemed... useful."
Brennus looks around for any additions as he speaks, “The envoy from Begma when he arrives may have a different opinion on that I think. Good, I am pleased that nothing of a more overt nature has been done yet. With luck they will be, less wary shall we say.”
Brennus pauses to think for a moment, “The Lion, he interests me, what do we know of him really?”
Jabbing his finger towards Daedus Brennus demands, “You there, Daedus is it, what have we done to identify this mystery man?”
Daedus's creaky voice answers. "All plans to send in operatives to infiltrate the Army have been held off. Intelligence estimates of his base of operations have so far proved... unsuccessful."
Brennus narrows his eyes at this point, and then nods.
Anita eyes are focused on Daedus, and you see the barest hints of anger, but it is well controlled. "Rumors, a few shaky eye witness accounts, and a few talkative merchants have led us to suspect the Lion is a man also going by the name of Haden. One of the merchants says the man's name is actually Hald Feldane, uncle to the Lady Jasminda Feldane. Physical descriptions seem to coincide, and Hald Feldane would have the skill to lead the army. Motive would also seem clear. Of course, Hald was believed killed in the Black Road War and..."
"Aye," Garret interrupts. "It was just after the final battle in Garnath, when the King fell. Hald was defending the Fort at Deia when they were overwhelmed and the region was lost. Of course, you said the first attack was in the Darklands," Garret says to Anita, pointing with his metal finger, "and that's exactly where Deia was before it fell."
Anita seems to disregard Garret, and continues. "We could be dealing with an impostor, a Shadow of Hald, or even a descendant. I'm also not sure we can trust the source of the knowledge. We're in the process of trying to confirm it via other sources, but the difficulty is that few who are still alive who remember Hald well enough to identify him."
Garret snorts and settles back into his seat.
Brennus shuffles slightly in his seat, sitting a little straighter.
“All very interesting I’m sure, and like lady Anita I am not interested in rumour. I want a positive identification. You understand me I hope Daedus, my Lady, gentlemen?”
Brennus looks around the assembled staff as he speaks his expression showing momentary annoyance, or perhaps irritation. Brennus breathes in deeply then exhales slowly and with a quirky smile speaks again.
“A thought occurs to me, and not a good one at that. Have there been any investigations into the possibility that the Lion may be a member of the Royal Family or a front for one of my kin? In fact has it even been suggested?
"A member of the Royal Family?" Anita asks, slightly surprised. "Its a possibility we're considering of course, but such things are difficult to confirm. In the past decade alone, we've had attacks in the Golden Realms by many who appear to be family. We've stopped four small armies led by Shadows of Random." Anita's aide whispers something in her ear. "Sorry, five attacks. Two attacks by men who appear to be Bleys. Three by impersonators of the Queen."
"There was the attack by the one armed woman who claimed to be Beatrice. I heard the Lord Protector was not amused." Garret comments. "Especially as it was his grace who had to put her down."
Anita looks slightly irritated at Garret's interruption. "And many others as well. None have made it to Amber, but it does confuse matters."
Another military commander, an older man, whose name you don't recall, speaks up. "Indeed." His voice is as old as his body, but you sense hidden reserves of power there. The emblems on his uniform show him to be Garret's superior. "It was just last year that I defeated a pirate captain raiding the coast. A young warlord by the name of Brannan, who looked the part of the Queen's own son."
Brennus cannot help but grin at this point, “Brannan you say? Well I’ll be damned, a pity I wasn’t there.“
After a moment Brennus regains his former impassive mien, and with an inclination of the head speaks to the older man, “Your pardon sir perhaps it’s the hour but your name escapes me.”
[...Pauses for breath, and Moderator response...]
"Commander Oswald Farsh, your majesty." The name is familiar, Brennus remember hearing of his courageous efforts during the war against Corraline. He was one of the most promising of Benedict's captains - by now one would have he would have earned the rank of general. Farsh is not a noble name though, and politics might have had a hand to play in the commander's lack of promotion. "Indeed, a pity, Prince." The left corner of his mouth rises somewhat in what might be the beginnings of a grin.
Brennus nods in acknowledgement and comments, “Commander Farsh. You can be assured I’ll remember next time we meet sir.”
Brennus gives himself a mental shake and with a small grunt returns to the topic at hand.
“So on to countermeasures. If as I expect Amber is forced to deal with these insurgents how soon can we have a force ready for action?”
Garret smiles. "I sent the order for them to be readied yesterday. We could launch a sizable force in the next day or two. I haven't heard from the Duke, but I believe a portion of their force is kept constantly at the ready, in case offensive actions are unexpectedly required."
Brennus harrumphs to this and then asks, “Can we do so without weakening Eregnor? I wouldn’t like to have our men move out and have Eregnor attacked while they’re gone.”
Garret begins a lengthy discussion of the current forces in Eregnor. A force large enough to completely crush Army of the Black Lion would take a week or more to field without leaving Eregnor vulnerable. Garret's estimates seem to assume that the enemy is the strategic equal of the commander of Amber's force, with equal firepower. A superior commander, or one willing to suffer heavy loses, might be able to make due with a smaller force that could be readied in the day or two. Unless all estimates of the Army of the Black Lion's forces are wrong, Eregnor should still be well defended.
Brennus listens to Garret speak and when he has finished nods and again purses his lips.
“Good enough, I have a predilection for the cautious approach, the truth of the matter is we do not know enough. To my orders then, from a covert or intelligence point of view, find out everything we can about this Army of the Black Lion, it’s base of operations, numbers, and particularly it’s commander. Who is he? What is he like? Where is he from? Militarily I want a force large enough to wipe out the bandit force, no gambling on the enemy being less able. I like to hedge my bets. Any questions.”
Anita bears the sole question. "Your highness, the pattern of attacks, would indicate that the Army has conspired with several of the other Golden Realms, or is moving covertly through their territories. We have no definitive proof of an alliance, but such an investigation would be warranted. It is possible that the Black Lion may have a base in one of those nations. We will activate the agents we have in place, but it will take time. I know the crown has other... resources at its disposal, which might prove useful." Anita leaves the statement hanging in the air.
Brennus gazes at Anita appraisingly and with a short smile comments, "See to it my Lady, see to it. I'm sure we're all aware that her highness is due back tomorrow. I want efforts to resolve this matter expedited and moved far enough along that the Queen can see that her staff, and her sons have not been idle." Brennus smiles slightly with the final comment.
Looking around the room Brennus asks, "Unless there are any other matters of urgency I suggest that we adjourn at this point. I assume that I can delegate the minutiae to your good selves?"
No further questions are broached by the staff, and as it clear you are leaving they begin the effort of further refining and dividing the tasks ahead. As you are about to leave, Anita walks over to you, her voice a muffled whisper. "Could I have a brief word, your highness? In private, perhaps?" The rest of the room is already busy at work, the beginnings of a maelstrom of activity. Daedus, however, keeps his attention focused on the Anita and yourself - his observation subtle enough that you suspect nobody else would notice.
With the merest smile Brennus nods and quietly comments. "Certainly, there is an office three doors up on the left which should allow some privacy."
Brennus collects his papers and heads off out of the meeting room.
[He also surreptitiously watches Daedus' reactions, as he speaks to Anita and as he leaves. He is going to the office mentioned.]
Anita says a few words to her assistant, gathers a folder of paper and follows you out of the busy room. Daedus watches without distinct reaction as he sips from a cup of tea and listens to Garret describe the movements of some of Amber's forces.
Outside of the room it appears that your royal guard has once again caught up with you. You can shake them for a little bit but they always seem to catch up with you - half guardians, half babysitters. The four of them silently follow you to the office, but do not enter.
The office itself is minimally furnished with virtually no personal touches. A faint odor of garlic seems to permeate the room, which, until recently, was occupied by an assistant secretary of public works. Unfortunately, there are no windows in the room, preventing Brennus from checking on the status of the storm.
Anita speaks quietly and quickly, perhaps fearful of being overheard. "I won't take much of your time, your highness. The 'other resources' of the Queen's, that I mentioned before... I don't know what they are - I was hoping they were at your disposal. I know she has other methods of gaining information - another network, perhaps... I don't know. They seem to have a knack of finding information for the crown when our methods prove... less fruitful. In this situation, they might be... quicker."
Brennus nods with a quick smile and takes a seat, he gestures for Anita to do likewise.
“Did you really think I’d know, or were you being diplomatic? If it is the latter your guess was correct I don’t know what mothers other resources are either. She doesn’t trust anyone much you know?” Brennus grins then quickly goes on.
“I’ll speak with Prince Merlin and perhaps the Lord Defender, failing that it will have to wait until her majesty's return.”
Brennus pauses and becomes more serious.
“Why so nervous my lady? What or who do you fear?”
"Nothing's the matter, highness. I fear only for the privacy of your words. There are some who serve many masters. The fragile balance has grown less steady since your unexpected return. I do not know whether your brother or even the Lord Protector knows of the Queen's secret ways. I have heard it said that your uncle, the Duke of Corraline, is privy to such knowledge, but," Anita pauses with a grin. "But, I have also heard it said that it was he who started that rumor. It seems that none are safe from the Queen's eyes."
As she speaks, Anita's posture shifts slightly - opening up to you - though a lesser eye may not have noticed. She has moved half a step closer under the pretense of speaking quietly, although such a stance was unnecessary. There is a playful tone to her voice that still retains the necessary separation of nobility and royalty.
Brennus nods as Anita speaks maintaining eye contact, he pats her hand reassuringly as he says, “Your concern is appreciated my lady.“
His expression seems to indicate conflicting attitudes, reserve mixed perhaps with openness.
“Let us hope we can discuss matters in more depth later…” Brennus looks around and sniffs, “… and in more congenial surroundings perhaps. We could reconvene this evening if that is convenient, and assuming you will be able to give me a little more than I’ve had heretofore.”
Brennus moves slightly away from Anita, his expression becoming passive, “As much as it pains me I am afraid I must leave you now Anita, as ever duty calls. “
With that said Brennus stands and with a bow makes to leave.
"I would be glad to discuss this in more detail as, and when, you desire, your highness. I am, of course, at your disposal." The edges of Anita's lips curve upward in what you suspect would be a grin if circumstance allowed.
As you move to leave, Anita bows slightly. "Of course, your highness. Tonight's royal duties are likely unusually taxing as well."
Your royal guard remains ever vigilant outside the door to office. Anita bows again quickly as you depart, before heading back to the council chamber.
Brennus watches Anita as she goes, the beginnings of a smile evident.
Turning to his guard he nods and heads off to the main council chamber and Merlin.
The halls of the castle still buzz with the nervous chatter - but the sense of fear is noticeably diminished. A large arched glass window at the end of the corridor quietly overlooks the city. The brutal assault of rain and snow seems to have been replaced by a light drizzle. The maelstrom of clouds has turned peaceful and may yet turn to a clear day. Even the winds have ceased their thunderous roar. The castle in the sky though, has vanished from heavens despite the faint beams of moonlight still visible. The twilight of dawn already threatens to retake the land ravaged by the Storm.
The main council chamber is even busier than the rest of the castle. Men and woman in the Queen's colors sketch on maps, organize reports, and do all manner of other tasks that Merlin apparently delegated. The apparent chaos appears to have a heart of order and it appears things are actually getting done. A courier darts out of the room carrying sealed orders even as you arrive. Merlin however is conspicuously absent.
A thin young man with strangely gray hair spots you and leaves the conversation he was having, racing to you. He hastily bows and then addresses you in rapid Thari. "Highness, Prince Merlin wanted me to inform you that something came up requiring his attention and that he'd be right back."
Brennus nods and smiles, "I'm sure my brother has his priorities. Come then, what is the state of affairs let us set things in order."
With that said Brennus bends to the task of continuing the organizational tasks that were started by Merlin.
OOC: I'm assuming that his methods are more direct and perhaps more methodical than Merlin's. Also that apart from the general weirdness of the firestorm(!) Brennus has no inkling that anything may be amiss.
The gray haired man nods. "Yes, sir. Captain Blake, over there," the man says gesturing at a lean, dark skinned man, "has been assigned to assure the safety of the city against any, um, new arrivals. He is also working in tandem with some of the repair efforts, being led by Yuki El-Rez," he says gesturing to an odd looking woman of Talistian origin. "I believe there is some concern over the sewer system. Prince Merlin assigned me, Jasper by the way, Jasper Orice; your brother assigned me to deal with various trade issues which might be affected by the Storm. I've also been trying to keep the chaos here to a minimum, majesty. Jasper continues to show you about, familiarizing you with all of the activities under way. Things seem to be progressing smoothly, despite the frustrating lack of centralized organization. The main concerns appear to be security, infrastructure repair, and assistance for citizens displaced during the storm. A small effort is also under way to ensure public calm in the face of the violent fire in Tir-na Nog'th.
Merlin seems to have left things in reasonable shape, but it seems the entire organization could be streamlined dramatically. In addition, reports and information are not being well processed, causing delays in information flowing up the chain of command. Without Merlin, or somebody else, keeping all of these projects in check, things will probably fall apart in a few hours at a minimum.
With a disdainfully raised eyebrow Brennus comments to Jasper, "This will never do. Come with me."
Brennus takes Jasper with him to a small side chamber, he calls the other primary relief effort officers in and quickly and succinctly he begins to reorganize things to his own tastes, with a definite command structure and a system of information sharing where possible and gives each the authority to requisition additional aid from the city's personnel as and where required.
[If necessary he will draft in Castle staff or possibly even garrison troops to act as gofers and messengers.]
Having done so he attempts to contact Prince Julian in Arden by Trump.
The reorganization, though making things simpler for Brennus, has set the workers back a bit as they restructure their groups. A few of them seem more accustomed to Merlin's unusual system and they seem to feel constrained by the new order you've laid down. It appears Merlin has already given similar powers to requisition aid from city personal, castle staff and even military personal, mostly limited to the local garrison forces, although you extend the powers in a few cases that your brother apparently overlooked. Your efforts appear to have paid off and things seem to moving in a more orderly sense now.
You withdraw Julian's card from your deck. Merlin's hand has depicted the Duke of Arden in soft, easy lines, an almost minimal style. Arden is depicted in shades of dark green, her mighty trees raising to the heavens. Julian stands under a mighty oak that may be as old as the forest itself. He is dressed in flowing white clothes, and his long hair dark as night blows to the right of the card under. There is a sense of mystery and depth. Merlin has captured the interplay of weak shadows upon his face which seem to only increase the intensity of the man.
The card grows colder in your hand as you focus on Julian, remembering the man, willing the card to come to life. Days and nights in Arden... learning the way of the wild. He was like a father to you in many ways, always taking pride in your accomplishments. You remember his voice, soft with the a hint of stutter. You feel him, urging life to come forth in the card - hoping for the leaves to move through the frame.
Nothing. The card is cold, but nothing stirs. The leaves hang in midair, and the breeze does not blow. Julian stands mighty but still, mere paint on paper.
Frowning and concentrating mightily Brennus stares at the Trump willing it to life.
In exasperation his voice tinged with either fear or nervousness he calls out, somewhat louder than he had intended.
[He mentally projects the same message]
"Julian it is I Brennus can you hear me. Answer me!"
The coldness of the card spreads through you, up your fingers and into your arms. Still the figure remains still... the only sounds are the echoes of the your own voice as though you were yelling into a deep well - a well of ice and cold. Nothing. Silence.
You recall the lecturing of Merlin, and the condescending sound of his voice, when you were just a boy and he attempted to instruct you in the use of the Trumps. "There are many tricks to the cards - too many to teach you. Remember the feeling of the card. If you try, you can always block it, no matter who calls upon you. But you have to focus to do it. Otherwise they could slip in slowly. It doesn't matter how much stronger they are; if you try, you can keep them out. It works the other way too. You must learn to be quiet, and take your enemy unaware. If they do not sense you, the advantage will be yours." Merlin paused then and reconsidered you with a laugh. "Of course, you better watch out. Its like opening a door into your mind for them and you're so soft, that they'll just walk all over you. Best you just learn to keep them out, and focus on your swords. They may act all sweet, but I think most of them would prefer you'd not been born."
Brennus shudders passing his hand over the Trump he moves to break the contact such as it is. He closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly weary, but he uses those few seconds to collect his thoughts.
"Where are you when I need you brother?" Brennus almost sighs the words out in a low tone.
Turning to the staff in the room he smiles lightly and with a nod walks out.
Leaving his guards to follow on Brennus retraces his steps to the council room in which he had been earlier.
Brennus barks out orders to the guard as he enters.
"See I am not disturbed Alvers, you understand?"
Before the Lieutenant can answer Brennus has shut the door.
Brennus quickly finds a seat and takes out his Trumps, he tries each in turn starting with Benedict.
It appears that the all of the agents of the crown that you had gathered previously have returned to their offices or posts, to work out their plans privately. A single maid is in attendance, cleaning the room of the trash left by your earlier meeting, but she departs almost as soon as you enter.
The trump grows cold in your hand as your mind wraps around the Lord Protector's image. You remember the campaign against Corraline, and the merciless style of the battle. It was as if death had been made flesh. Victory. Efficiency.
'Who is it?' comes Benedict's voice through the cold darkness of the trump into your mind.
When Benedict answers Brennus cannot help but mentally broadcast ~Thank the Unicorn~, the message tinged with relief.
Brennus jumps in before Benedict is fully in contact.
"It is I Brennus. I'm sorry it's... I tried to contact Julian just now and his Trump was somehow locked, not blocked exactly, I got an image and I felt the cold, but it was still with no real sense of presence. I'm trying yours to see if the others are similarly affected. Obviously yours isn't."
Realizing that he is perhaps a little panicked Brennus pauses to allow Benedict to come clear, and to answer.
Benedict comes into view, walking up the carved steps that lead to the dungeons of the castle. He is silent for a moment in consideration before speaking. "Shadows Storms tend to interfere with the Trumps, making their use more difficult. Possibly the effect remains even though the Storm has passed. You might try contacting others who are farther removed from Amber. It is also possible that Julien was occupied, but was unable to fully block the connection." Benedict seems slightly distracted seemingly only giving you a portion of his attention. "If the trouble persists, your brother or the Lady Ariadne should be informed."
Brennus grimaces at Benedict's pronouncement.
"Well you have more experience of these things than I but, well, it didn't feel like a block, not an intentional one by Julian in any event"
Brennus thinks for a moment whilst studying Benedict's movements.
"I'll try some of the others then, in case it is simple effect of the storm...are you alright by the way you seem a little distracted."
Brennus tails off and studies his uncle once more, aware that being distracted is something Benedict is not famous for, nor is he prone to allow distractions to cloud his judgment or slow his reflexes. A worried expression appears on Brennus' face for a second but it is quickly masked.
"You could try Roland, whatever environmental effects might be bothering Julian in Arden would likely be affecting Roland in Evermoor."
"I was at the Pattern." Benedict pauses, looking to his upper left for a moment. "It was not unaffected by the Storm. It was excited, more than it ever grows when being walked, although the appearance was similar. Sparks lit the room like a star - a sight worthy of a poet. I could feel the energy in the air, flowing from the Pattern. The fury died with the fading of the Storm though, now the line is as calm as one might ever see it."
Brennus pales slightly listening to Benedict speak.
This cannot be a shadow storm, not if it affects the Pattern surely. I must speak with... who, who would know?
Quelling a growing sense of unease he nods his head.
"I'll try Roland first then, thank you Benedict, until later then."
Brennus passes his hand over the Trump, he remains standing in place completely still. His face appears almost grey, he sighs quietly an almost mournful sound, he begins to pace slowly whilst talking quietly to himself.
"No one to ask Brennus, you are in charge, do something!"
Decision made, Brennus riffles through his Trumps, when he has located Roland's card he concentrates his thoughts, focusing, willing the image to come to life.
Benedict nods, as he continues climbing stairs. The connection fades instantly as you pass your hand over the card.
ermoor glares back at you. You remember your excursion into Arden with Roland... the talk over your cooking... the fury of battle...
The card grows cold. Nothing at first and then a feeling. Movement. Chaos. Colors rush together. A pattern of white and brown. The smell of blood. Trees vanish and reappear. Water is there and is not. Snow turns to ice, melts and then grows back as snow again. The clouds twist and turn. The feeling is familiar, even in this half contact - a Hellride.
Realising the truth of this vision Brennus prepares to break the contact, instead he draws back. His mind still in contact but no longer pushing, a bystander only.
He reasons that if the hellride continues for too long then he can simply withdraw and try to contact someone else.
The movement slows, ceases, and the contact solidifies. Cold flows through the card, and a chill overtakes your hand. Roland is in a forest, upon a horse, with another man. His companion looks to a woodsman of some sort. Blood covers his body and a field dressing wraps his shoulder. Even at this distance you can sense the fading of life. Roland also has splatterings of blood upon himself, along with many small cuts. He shows no signs of weakness though.
(To be continued in the shared thread: An Interrupted Ride)
The effort of drawing Roland, his companion, and the horse through the Trump leaves you feeling a little exhausted. The mass of the horse made the ordeal far worse than you would have expected.
Roland's companion's arm hangs limp at this side. He looks slightly pale from blood loss, most of which seems to be lost from a shoulder wound under the field dressing. The man's complexion and dress would indicate him as somebody of low social class - a woodsman or peasant, perhaps. There are several days of stubble on the man's face. His hair is a mangled mess of black - his skin tanned and worn - clearly a man who has spent many years working under the sun. He is dressed in several thick layers, necessary in this climate. The severity of his wounds keep him from being attentive, but you sense a bubbling of consciousness.
Brennus makes an involuntary intake of breath as he brings Roland, horse and companion through.
His eyes roll slightly for a moment. As he looks the injured man over his nostrils flare and a derisive sneer appears but is replaced quickly by an impassive mask.
Upon closer examination, the man's wound is very severe. It looks as though something very sharp and powerful ripped through his shoulder, slicing through skin and bone. The wound could be consistent with an ax wound, but it would have to be an exceeding sharp blade moving at extremely high speeds. You can stop the bleeding, and save the man's life, but you're not sure the arm can be saved. Even if you can save the arm, he'll never have full use of it again. You also notice bits of a light blue liquid within the wound. There seems to be some splatters of the same substance on the man's clothes, and on Roland's clothes.
You tend to Roland's companion to the best of your ability. His health is clearly that of the lesser classes and you are certain he has not seen medical attention in some time. There are signs of old wounds badly healed, and easily treated childhood diseases that would leave no mark if the proper care were possible. There are signs of continued exposure to cold, and from small signs on the skin and in his clothes, you are certain he has been in a forested area recently and likely for some time - a man of the forest perhaps, though you suspect he has often dealt in a city.
The skills of killing lend themselves to healing. The same science that Benedict instructed on the matter of death gives guidance on the treatment of such wounds. Once you are concluded, you are certain the man will live and confident in the restoration of his arm, though only time and healing will determine the final course of the limb. What measure of value does Roland find in this man that he warrants the care and attention of two sons of Amber? He could be one of a great multitude that dwell in the shadow of the ancient castle, but none of those would ever receive such treatment.