# Blood Loyalties (Roger Zelazny's Amber) UPDATED 7/30/04



## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 21, 2004)

Hello all!

This will be my story hour for a game I am playing in (not running). This whole thing will be written from my character's point of view, but there will occasionally be interludes that are from another character's POV.

This game is based in the world of Roger Zelazny's wonderful books. I highly suggest reading the Amber series of books.

For those of you familiar with the series, we started in the time period directly after the war with Chaos (the first five books). We are all playing children of one of the elder Amberites (who are Corwin, Eric, Brand, Bleys, etc).

The game is being played atRPG Crossroads using the Amber Diceless Roleplaying System. This is where you can go to get the newest info on the game events.

There is a webpage for the game: Blood Loyalties. This includes text from the game (updated periodically), information on the other characters, and Trump images among other things. I would highly suggest reading it - the below is just my humble attempt at compiling my character's POV into a story hour. 

*The Cast:*
~ Shiro (Player: Shiro)
~ Orion (Player: Orion)
~ Talen (Player: Talen)
~ Caliban (Player: Garvey)
~ Tanda (Player: Tanda)
~ Killashandra (Player: Taria - me)

The GM is SisyphusX. He has written probably about half of what I will be posting, although I have altered it slightly to fit my character's POV. The Prologue was written entirely by him, and I have not intentionally altered it in any way. 

Please feel free to post any comments or email me at taria @ shadowlady.com.


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 21, 2004)

*Prologue: Flora's Journal, Day One*​The Castle is abuzz with rumour and activity - sound and fury, signifying nothing. It has been two weeks since anyone saw or spoke to Fiona, and Julian's rangers have just this night reported that Morgenstern is charging about Arden unridden. The recently-returned young Prince Orion offered to take temporary command of the rangers, but Bleys returned immediately from Shadow at Random's request and used the rangers to organize a search of Arden for Julian or evidence of his whereabouts. Those efforts continue even now.

Even more disconcerting is the news that Benedict has been unreachable for days. What could possibly have happened to _HIM_? Caine fears that two or three such disappearances is an obvious prelude to attack, and he assembles the navy even now for a fierce wargame and drilling to maintain their readiness. King Random is still relatively new upon the Throne - he looks to Corwin for advice. Corwin is a rock for him, but I sense Corwin's wanderlust taking hold day by day. I believe he tires of languishing within these walls; he craves action and the search for the enemy of Amber that would dare assault the children of Oberon.

Vialle's is the coolest head in the castle - she counsels patience even now. Fiona is a skilled sorceress, she says - surely her work takes her to strange locales for long periods of time. Benedict might as well be practicing commando tactics in the field, she says - and he would not take Trump calls during such intense concentration. And Julian lacks Caine's taste for carousing, but Vialle asked Gerard to search the taverns of Amber City, just in case.

We received word today that a delegation from House Hendrake of Chaos has requested an audience with the King in seven days' time. It is not an official delegation from Chaos itself - just their House. I know not what to make of their request, ostensibly to discuss 'security and possible trade issues', but the timing could not be worse. Random accepted the request, but he worries that without Benedict to advise him militarily, he will make some mistake in the negotiations to Amber's disadvantage.

The Golden Circle holds fast to Amber's allegiance - they know naught of these troubling developments. It is good - if Chaos is indeed mobilizing in our time of apparent weakness, the Golden Circle will need our support - and vice versa. I will travel as emissary of Amber to Begma this week to renew a multi-faceted import agreement. I sometimes wonder if a grand project might be undertaken to create steppes on the side of Kolvir to raise food crops, so that we might not be -so- dependent on sea traffic for the sustenance of our citizenry, the efforts of Baron Bayle aside.

The King has begun to consider recalling what children of Amber we can from off in Shadow - who knows what menace threatens them as well as us? There are a few who are currently in residence - Shiro, Orion and Killashandra. Random's own son Martin has flatly refused to even answer Trump contacts - and with good reason, I think. Corwin has asked Random and Bleys to leave Merlin alone, and they acceded to his wishes. And that ghastly Vorus hasn't been seen or heard from in some time - I must thank the Unicorn for the mercies we are shown.

The sky is grey tonight, but I do not believe it will storm. It is a tense and unpleasant sky, filled with the promise of wroth undelivered. It merely provides all here with a sense of dread as to what is to come.

_Florimel, Daughter of Oberon_


_Written by SisyphusX_


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 21, 2004)

*Prologue: Flora's Journal, Day Six*​The attacks (if that is what they are) seem to be coming more frequently. King Random's disappearance from inside the Royal Treasury three days ago has stunned everyone - and created a governmental crisis of sorts. Vialle had to be summoned to permit an investigation, as technically only the King and Queen are allowed to admit visitors to the Vault. But indeed, after Bleys and Caine searched it thoroughly, they declared that the King has vanished. (Though I might suspect that both Caine and Bleys might have tripped over Morganstern in there, so intent were they on monitoring the other's reactions.) Attempts to contact him by Trump proved as fruitless as the rest. Vialle maintains a presence as the Royal Family Head, but Bleys had for all intents and purposes assumed the Regency. With Bleys in the Palace maintaining order, he finally accepted Orion's request to take charge of the rangers of Arden. I believe Orion may be ready for this duty, but the rangers are far more experienced at the ways of Arden than he is himself, so he is merely their organization and direction. He gets on well with Julian's lieutenants, so the men are of good cheer - a rare enough commodity in these times.

Corwin left the next day - shouting something about too galling an insult to allow to go on unchecked. I have no idea what he intends to do, or where to go - but he was off as the wind. We have not heard from him since, and I am afraid to try to Trump him - afraid of what I will learn. Orion has regretted that he could not go with him - but he had already accepted his charge and could not abandon his post.

I am just returned from Begma. The trade negotiations went well, and the goods continue to flow, but they claim to be grievously assaulted by the Weir. The shapeshifters have left Amber alone since the war to a large extent, so I know not why they should resurge in violence at this time. It never rains, but it pours.

Llewella has announced that she is not leaving Rebma until the crisis is over. We were all taken surprise by *that* announcement, I must say. I'm not sure what she has to fear, though - she had never pressed a claim to the throne anyway, and was a neutral party during the Interregnum. Only her relationship to Vialle ties her to the current situation at all - and that is quite a tenuous link.

Tomorrow, Bleys will meet with the representatives of House Hendrake in Random's stead. I do not know how he intends to explain the substitution - nor what affront the nobles will take at this apparent act of mistrust. I trust Bleys to handle the situation as diplomatically as possible, but some situations might tax even his powers of persuasion. And while he has not spoken of it, his attempt to contact our Grandfather has left him more shaken than I would expect. I believe he thinks something is horribly, horribly wrong.

Gerard has affirmed Random's suggestion to gather our relatives in strength. He apparently knows how to contact Tanda, but due to some problem he has asked Bleys to do so. He has scrounged up a Trump of Talen, but is reluctant to use it - and may only try if others are there to help him. And he has muttered something about Caliban. I've heard the name, but I think we had all assumed that he was lost in the Patternfall War. If he has not, it has strange implications for our foreign policy. Good or bad, I cannot tell. Martin remains defiant about not returning, and Vorus never remained here long enough for a Trump to be drawn of him, nor did he wish one done. His lone visit four days ago was to request a private audience with King Random - and Random did not choose to reveal what was said to me. And Gerard is respecting Corwin's decision to leave Merlin alone - for now.

The sun is bright today - it belies the foul work being done and the dire doom that seems to draw near. It mocks our suffering and our frustration, and I hate it today. I would wish that Fate would be a more honest and open thing, and that the weather had remained as gloomy as our outlook. I cannot write more today.

_Florimel, Daughter of Oberon_


_Written by SisyphusX_


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 21, 2004)

*Droplets of Blood​*The day is fresh and bright with the sun, but the tenseness of the Castle and the City belies the good feeling of the day. The Castle itself is rather quiet, and fewer people seem to be in the hallways and rooms. The Guard has been somewhat redeployed to keep order in the City - there is a restlessness there that has raised the incidence of violence and crime.

I know that Bleys and Flora are preparing for tomorrow night's visit from the Chaos delegation. Caine is at sea, supervising more of his rather frenzied exercises to keep the navy fresh and ready to defend Amber. Gerard is more than likely down in the City, helping as he can to maintain order. Vialle isn't in the royal quarters, and I believe that she is spending the morning relaxing. I've heard that Orion has gone down to Arden this morning to meet with the rangers, as Bleys recently instructed. I'm not sure where Shiro is at the moment - there is no answer at his door when I knock. 

Thus, I wander the castle for the morning, revisiting my favorite locales - the library, armory, and practice yard. Finding nothing of interest besides the ever-tense atmosphere of Castle Amber, I decide that a refreshing ride in Arden with Sha'kar is in order. I consider leaving a message that I will be relaxing in Arden for the afternoon, but drop such reasoning upon reflection that I can be reached by Trump should my assistance be neccessary.

I leave the castle and stroll toward, and past, the stable, nodding to the stablehands as I pass them. Shortly down the path to Arden, I draw the stylized dagger from my side and lightly plant it in the ground in front of me. As soon as I step back, it shimmers and shifts, becoming the familiar large form of my mount. I scratch under Sha'kar's chin for a moment before swinging astride. As usual, he appears with full tack, no doubt sensing my restlessness and guessing my need for a refreshing jaunt.

Breathing in the cool mountain air, I touch my heels lightly to Sha'kar's side. "Let's try to avoid Orion for the time being, hmm?" I say to his backward-cocked ears. "This situation is getting to everyone, and I have no desire to be in the middle of any tense situations as he is meeting with the Rangers." Sha'kar tosses his mane in response to my voice and flows into that relaxing gait I so enjoy.

As I ride, I reflect upon Benedict's being out of touch and Corwin's abrupt departure. _Really, there are few of my relatives who remain in Amber whom I get along with; and with the talk of recalling those off in Shadow, there will be fewer yet with whom I even care to speak. I would have liked to have accompanied Corwin, or Benedict - assuming he is simply off in Shadow and has not fallen to whatever mysterious circumstances King Random and the others most definitely have. And for that matter, where did Corwin hie off to, anyway? Did he have some lead on this situation that the rest missed?..._

Sha'kar, now in Arden proper, lifts his head abruptly, swiveling his ears back and forth alertly. I scan the forest about me, hand dropping to rest casually on my sword hilt, listening for disturbances in the natural forest sounds. Arden was patrolled, but not tamed, and every once in a while something slips past the Rangers, so it is best to be wary - especially with the disappearances. _Not that Amber is all that safe for one of the family at the best of times - I swear, nothing in my previous life prepared me for the curse of the offspring of Oberon...._ After a moment, my steed shakes his head and continues on. Shrugging it off as a false alarm, I release the sword hilt and gather up my reins, once more falling into reflection.

_I thought I overheard Flora mentioning that she has not attempted to reach Corwin. I think she is afraid; these disappearances have concerned everyone. Not that I have ever been all that impressed by Flora's courage, anyway._ I brood momentarily, staring at my mount's deadly horn as it points, arrow-straight, his path through the woods. _And those lunatics from the Church of the Unicorn!_ I roll my eyes in disgust. _I am all for venerating our patron beast, but really - Sha'kar is *not* a unicorn - not as Amberites are familiar with a unicorn. He is an altogether different creature - and one from Shadow, at that!_ I wave my hand, dismissing memories of yesterday's unpleasant meeting (which still left a sour taste in my mouth).

As I ride through Arden, I do see one or two Rangers. _And I suspect I am being observed by a few more...._ The ones I do see bow their head at me as I pass, respecting my station. They have a quiet and stern nobility about them, instilled by long years in Julian's service, that has an almost... reassuring quality to it.

At one point when I believe I am out of sight of the Rangers, I pull out my deck of the family's favorite playing cards and thumb through them, looking for Benedict's and Corwin's. _Flora may be too afraid to get answers, and no doubt the others (her included) are too busy plotting how to best take advantage of the situation, but I am not._ I shuffle out the two major arcana I am looking for and replace the rest of the deck. _Benedict first, then Corwin._ I had tried Benedict before with no response, but once more couldn't hurt. I hold my first choice up before me, signaling Sha'kar with my knees. Ever responsive, he stops and plants his body in a guard stance, ears up and forward, alert. I concentrate on the ice-cold card, reaching for a response in the static surface.

I concentrate on Benedict's card, looking at it, into it and THROUGH it... but nothing happens. _Even with my previous experience with the Trump, I have rarely if ever known such absolute silence from a Trump that does not have the tepid temperature of the dead...._ I concentrate with redoubled effort, hoping against hope that it will make a difference, but it does not. Wherever Benedict is, whatever he is doing, he is beyond the ken of the mystical artifact I hold.

I sigh deeply as reality once again offers nothing I had not expected. _Surprises aren't always good, but they are always... interesting._

I shuffle Benedict's Trump back into the deck, and then draw Corwin's. I stare at the handsome man emblazoned on the card, and open my mind to his image, willing it to focus. Suddenly I feel a twinge of energy at the back of my head, behind my ears. It's different, not a normal feeling. I press on with a surge of hope to fend off the disquiet of this new sensation.

As the seconds tick by, the twinge becomes a throbbing, then an itching, then even perhaps a burning. But I refuse to pay it any heed, as the Trump is finally starting to respond. It is becoming darker, even fading to near-black. But as it does so, the image of Corwin is distorting. The proud and clear gaze is becoming bleary, fatigued and glassy. The clothes are becoming torn, grey and tattered. And the mind...

The pain in my mind has grown substantially, but I fight it back as I feel the first intimations of a mental contact. Finally I pierce through whatever veil or barrier separates Corwin from I, and I feel a phrase in my mind....

*THANK THE UNICORN YOU'RE HERE!*

Suddenly everything turns white-hot and searing, and then black.


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## Xath (Jul 22, 2004)

Ooh, so far so good.  I'm a big fan of Zelazny's Amber, and I've always wanted to take a shot at the diceless RPG, but since I can't get my hands on it, this'll have to tide me over.

I do have a question though.  Where do the PC's in the campaign stand in the geneology of the Amberite princes and princesses.  Are you starting as Oberon's children? are you 4th generation Amberites? or is it something completely different?


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 22, 2004)

We are actually starting as children of the elder Amberites (Corwin, Brand, Eric, Bleys, etc). The time period is set right after the first 5 books; the GM isn't using anything from the Merlin saga, because (as he puts it) "Everything in those books is a GM's nightmare). 

Stay tuned, I hope to have a bit more up sometime today... also, I found my copy of the books at Amazon.com, if you are still having a hard time locating them. (Best RPG purchase I ever made!)


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 22, 2004)

I awaken to Sha'kar's gentle nuzzle. I have a roaring headache, and the light hurts my eyes. Still, by the position of the sun only a few minutes have passed. I raise my hand to my head reflexably, and find two startling developments. First, I am still holding Corwin's Trump - or what is left of it - a burned corner of a piece of paper. I can see the normal border of the Trump, but the illustration is pitch-black. Second, the skin of my hand is reddened and angry where it was touching the Trump. _I may need to get this burn treated at some point…._ As I move, Sha'kar retreats slightly to allow me to sit up.

It is only as I arise that I see the slight circle of ash both on Sha'kar's back and on the ground near him. It is a fine grey powder, and is already being ruffled by the wind. And as I turn around, watching the dust swirl and puff in the mild breeze of Arden's afternoon, I see the final, most shocking change of the last few minutes.

A sword stands straight up in the clearing. The point rests three or four inches into the soil, and the grass around the blade is seared away. It has a bright sheen to it, and there might be thermal ripples issuing into the air from it, but my vision is still focusing. It has a disturbingly familiar set of etchings on the blade, and the hilt is still moving slightly from side to side. I can feel the soft aura of power even from this distance.

*Greyswandir.*

I finish pulling myself to my feet, staring at the blade in the center of the clearing with shock. Using Sha'kar's tack for support as my head spins, I tuck the burned Trump into a pocket, attempting hard not to think of what it could represent.

I wince as my burned hand contacts the cloth of my pocket, and feel the skin of my face tighten with a twinge of pain as well; much like bad sunburn. A short lock of hair falls before my eyes and I notice that it seems to be scorched as well, although luckily my hair is short to begin with.

"Sha'kar, kneel. I don't wish to attempt to mount with my vision and head as is." Sha'kar obediently kneels, whickering in concern, as I never use this method of mounting unless I am injured. I dust the ash from the saddle and swing astride, pausing for a moment to allow the pain in my mind to recede a bit and for my eyes to stop crossing. Patting Sha'kar on the neck and sending a wordless thought of comfort to him that I do not feel myself, I signal for him to rise. He quiets, being sensitive enough to catch the calming thought, and smoothly regains his feet. With my knees, I signal him to move forward towards the blade. He takes a few steps then snorts and paws the earth for a moment, reluctant to move closer. I lean low over his neck and murmur into his ear, urging him to Greyswandir. Flattening his ears against his skull, he steps forward. 

As we move closer, I can feel that my eyes did not deceive me - the blade had been emitting slowly cooling thermal ripples. The air in the blasted circle of grass is still warm, and the blade itself would likely still be warm as well. I move Sha'kar alongside, and consider reaching down to touch the pommel. _It cannot truly be there in front of me. Corwin does not allow Greyswandir away from him... and if that is Greyswandir, then...._ My thoughts were disturbed by the arrival of one of Julian's _(or would it now be Orion's?)_ Rangers. Before he can speak, I maneuver Sha’kar and myself between him and Greyswandir; luckily, he had entered from the opposite side of the clearing. 

"Good day." I nod at him. "You'll have to excuse me," I gesture at the ground between us with my non-burned hand, "I had a bit of... bad luck during an experiment. I apologize for the damage this has caused Arden; it was not my intention." I reach down with my other hand and grasp Greyswandir's hilt, wincing at pain this causes my burns, and draw it from the ground. For a moment, I exalt in the feeling of the blade in my hand; but remembering the Ranger, I sheath it in the saddle-sheath I keep for a spare blade. My hand itches to regain the sword, and I clutch it into a fist and rest it on my leg to keep from reaching for Greyswandir once more.

"Are you... okay, milady?" the Ranger asks, eyeing my face and the bare ground with concern. "Mayhap I can escort you back to the castle?"

"That is quite unnecessary. I will be fine on my journey back, with Sha'kar." I lay a hand upon his neck; he is eyeing the Ranger with wariness, and I desire to calm him. "If you will excuse me, noble sir." I nod once more to him, and then turn Sha'kar with my knees and ride out of the clearing back the way I had come. I hear the Ranger turn his horse and canter off; no doubt to inform Orion of these events.

Once out of view of the clearing, I lean low over Sha'kar's neck. "All speed, dearheart, back to the castle. I desire a run." He snorts in eagerness and tosses his mane as his hooves begin to pound the ground. I lose myself in the ride, recalling my old riding instructor's words. _Galloping is hard work for both horse and rider, a fact that it little known among the unmounted. One must shift one's body to complement the movements of one's mount, always to make it easier for *him* to bear *you*. That is a very important lesson, Killa - your mount bears you out of willingness; make it too difficult for him and he will no longer carry you._ 

The ride banishes thoughts of what I carried at my side for a time, but once we reach the castle grounds, I recall with awful clarity. I dismount from Sha'kar, pausing for a moment holding onto his saddle as my head spins at the foolish move. I push the pain to the back of my mind and draw Greyswandir from the saddle-sheath. I place with my current sword in the saddle-sheath, then sheath Greyswandir at my side. My hand lingers on the hilt, reluctant to release it. _Corwin, Corwin, where art thee?...._ I tap Sha'kar on the shoulder. "Down, great brute, I cannot enter the castle with you following like an oversized mastiff." He snorts, and nuzzles my face before shimmering and reforming as a dagger. I catch the hilt of the dagger before it can fall, and hold it close to me for a moment before I sheath it on my other hip.

Facing the castle, I stride through the entrance, checking the time as I do so. _Bleys should be in his study at the moment; his meeting with House Hendrake is tomorrow, and he is no doubt deciding how to handle them. I should have time...._ I cradle my right hand against my side. _I should have that looked at later... it may be serious...._ I stride though the castle corridors unerringly, lost in thought. My feet bring me to Bleys' study in record time and I knock upon the door.

A single word in a deep voice echoes from inside the room. "Come." I open the door and step within.


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 22, 2004)

Flora and Bleys sit across from each other, pouring over a set of documents. Flora seems a little agitated, but Bleys is calm and contemplative. "Aunt Flora, Uncle Bleys." I give a slight bow to each, then speak to Bleys again. "I have come upon a matter of great urgency."

"Ah. Well, I have no wish to intrude - and there are other administrative matters to attend to before the state visit. And I think this is as good a time to temporarily adjourn our discussions as any." Flora looks at Bleys somewhat askance - there is an hint that they have disagreed on some point. "Please excuse me, Killashandra - I would not intrude on your meeting." She rises gracefully and prepares to leave, studying my somewhat disheveled condition in a note of maternal disapproval.

I shake my head and gesture towards the chair. "If you would be so kind as to stay, I feel you would be interested in the news I bring as well. I do apologize for interrupting your conference in lieu of the visitation tomorrow, but I wish to discuss this matter with all due haste. I will not take much of your time."

Flora hesitates, then smiles and reseats herself. Bleys leans back away from his desk, shuffling papers into order and placing a book atop the stack. "Please, sit." He gestures at the other chair before the desk. The emerald and ruby on his right hand glint with the gesture.

I step forward and sit, palming the burned Trump from my pocket as I did so. "I have contacted Corwin. Briefly." 

Flora smiles nervously, but Bleys only raises an eyebrow and smiles with his customary charm. "Have you, now? And what were the results of this contact?"

I could tell that they did not fully believe me. I laid the remnant of the Trump upon the desk. "This. And..." I draw Greyswandir and lay it crosswise on his desk, my hand still upon the hilt. "...this."

Bleys' sharp intake of breath when he sees Greyswandir speaks of his startlement, as does Flora's gasp as she raises a hand to her mouth. I did not miss how Bleys' hand dropped to his own blade when I drew. Still watching me with caution, he picks up the Trump and examines it while Flora watches me with wide eyes. Laying it back down, he gestures at Greyswandir. "May I?..."

I shook my head. "You may examine it, but I will not let it out of my sight - not until I discover who is behind these disappearances. It is my belief that Corwin has fallen into their clutches as well; I do not know if he is even still alive. As I do not know who or what is behind this...." I let myself trail off. _I must be very upset,_ a small voice in my mind noted. _I am being very transparent at the moment._

Bleys only nodded, having regained his composure. "Very well." He examines the blade as best he can, not touching it, nor asking me to release it. Finally, he sits back in his chair, to all appearances deep in thought. I sheath Greyswandir and rest my hand upon the pommel.

Flora clasps her hands in her lap. "I can't think of Corwin, too, falling to such a fate..." 

I ignore her continuing murmurs, concentrating on subsuming the pain of my headache and my burn. I am startled out of my trance by Bleys.

"If you will excuse me, Killashandra, I must think upon this." He touches the Trump with his left hand, sapphire glinting. "I will keep this."

I nod. "As it please you, Uncle. I will take my leave." I stand and bow to Flora. "Aunt." I leave the study, shutting the door behind me. I don't look back.

Glancing at my hand once more, I head toward the infirmary. There was no sense waiting - the sooner I can get my sword hand in shape, the safer I would be.

I purposefully head out to the infirmary, which is attached to the barracks for the Castle Guard. The physician on duty, a kind young man named Huntington, dresses the burn quickly after applying a soothing ointment. He seems to notice my disrupted concentration and prepares a soothing herbal tea, which both calms my nerves and greatly ameliorates the headache.

"You'd best not engage in any combat today, as the burned skin is still delicate and could tear if stressed. Otherwise from that, milady, you appear in excellent health. Thank you for allowing me to assist you, but there are other patients I must attend to again. I beg your leave, milady." With that, he picks up a satchel of medicines and moves quickly to one of the private rooms. I thank him for his time as he heads away.

It is now early in the afternoon. As I contemplate what to do for the rest of the day, I recall that Greyswandir has a very distinctive hilt as well as blade. I cursed myself ruefully as my thinking finally clears enough for me to realize the ramifications of being seen carrying Greyswandir. _It will not be well for me to be seen carrying it around so openly._ Indeed, I had little idea if anyone noticed it on the way to the infirmary, as I was concentrating on the route and the speed with which I could get there. _It is _unlikely_ that it was seen and identified - but not _impossible_, I fear._

As I stand to leave the infirmary, a strange man enters at a brisk pace. He is dressed in an unfamiliar style of attire - it seems formal, but the pieces are much more distinct than in other styles of dress. The shoulder pads are thick and stitched on top of the shoulder, for instance. He has a katana at his right and a wakizashi at his left. He moves quickly and quietly, which is quite the feat for someone garbed as he is and armed as he is. _I’ve seen him once or twice before, but...._ I cannot place him immediately. He appears to be headed for one of the private rooms and not the one that the physician had entered. His expression is one of duty and concern.

I lean my arm over the hilt, attempting to conceal it in-between my arm and body with a casual gesture. I angle my body away from him and nod to him in acknowledgement as I leave the room, my expression brooding and showing no interest in conversation. I head for my suite, trying to take back hallways and avoid people on the way. 

_I think I will spend the rest of the day in my room - quite enough excitement today as it is. The question remains: what to do with Greyswandir?..._


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 22, 2004)

I move rather furtively through the back corridors of the Castle, passing a few housekeeping staff and one or two guards, but they seem more interested in their own business than in mine. _Of course, there is the possibility that the staff has *learned* to mind their own business for the most part, given the nature of the family that they serve._ In addition, I am easily able to position myself between them and the object I carry. My suite is on the third floor, so it is quite the cross-castle trek, but I hurry and soon find myself at the door. Looking both ways down the hall to be sure nobody is present, I open the door quickly and back into the room, making sure I am unobserved. With a sigh of relief, a feeling just a bit silly, I close the door and bolt it.

"Good afternoon, Killashandra. I would like to speak with you a little, if you will permit me to do so."

I turn, startled by both the suddenness and the sheer politeness of the voice behind me. Florimel sits on my desk chair, turned around to face the door. She has changed clothes since the last time I saw her - before, she was wearing a rather formal gown and elbow-length lace gloves. Now, she is garbed much more informally - for a princess of Amber, that is - in a dress of a light green material with few ornamentations. She sits relaxed, legs crossed, and a pleasant smile on her face that belies the seriousness in her eyes.

"You may rest assured that your possession goes unreported, and I have enough friends inside the Castle and outside that I would have heard of it by now if it were even a rumor. Please," she entreats, indicating my bed, "rest yourself, for your injury is not yet healed, although dear Hunt is quite a skilled practitioner. I mean you no harm, but am desirous of information only you possess. I would that you lie down while we speak together."

"Aunt Flora." I bow slightly to her, and move toward another chair instead of my bed as she indicated, taking a deep breath to regain my composure. 

She adjusts her chair to face mine. "Very well - though I would rather not tax your health at this point, we can certainly speak this way for a while. Now, you've told Bleys and I that you'd found Corwin's blade, but in very general details. I have come to get a more specific description. Please, start from the beginning." She leans forward attentively. 

I sigh as I settle into my chair. As an afterthought, I unbuckle my swordbelt and lay Greyswandir, still sheathed, on my right-hand end table. I brush my fingertips across Sha'kar's hilt, but leave him sheathed at my hip.

"There's not much to tell, Aunt." I shrug and lean back in my chair. "I went for a ride and attempted to contact our missing relatives. I tried Benedict first, but my results were... expected. That is, I had none. I attempted Corwin's Trump next." I close my eyes in thought, but listen for any rustle of cloth that may signify Flora moving or another individual in the room. _I don't believe that she is behind these disappearances, but... one can never be too paranoid with one's own family if one is a scion of Amber._

"I felt a... twinge, a different sensation than normal Trump contact. I focused and forced the contact - which is how I ended up with the massive headache that had me traipsing about Castle Amber oblivious to common sense." I open my eyes and wave a hand in dismissal. "I digress. As I was saying, I finally made contact with Corwin's mind." I describe his appearance and his words - as well as my unconsciousness. As I describe Corwin's moment of contact and his near-shouted expression, Flora’s eyes widen - briefly, but noticeably.

"When I awoke, I was on the ground - and Greyswandir was standing upright in the clearing, still radiating thermal waves. I came straight to the Castle from there. Oh, I did encounter one of the Rangers. I tried to hide the blade, but..." I shrug. "It was fairly obvious there was something unusual going on, especially with the blasted circle of ground. I told him it was a failed experiment."

I lightly touched Greyswandir's hilt. "How I wish you could speak, old friend," I murmured, remembering the times I had seen Corwin with this blade. _He had treated it very like an old friend, as I recall._

I blinked and turned back to Flora. "Is there anything else you might wish to know, Aunt?" I know I was being slightly rude, at the very least for not offering her refreshment off of the nearby sideboard, but I rationalized it by recalling that she hadn't acted like an honored guest either. _Most guests do not invite themselves in before their hosts are home._ I debate asking her about the individual I had seen in the infirmary, but wait to hear her reactions on my story first. _It is sometimes interesting to tell the truth and watch the confusion as people try to decide what you are hiding._ 

Flora listened to my words intently, soaking up the detail of my inflection, expression, and tone. However, at my last remark, she flushes briefly and moves her legs as if to stand. "Oh, my word, I am terribly sorry. You're weakened by this experience, and you're understandably on edge and upset. We should probably arrange this meeting for some other time, when you're more centered and your injury has had a chance to heal. I could summon Doraine and request a hot milk toddy be brought to you - I've always found those to be soothing." Her face and eyes look helpful, but there is a shadow to them that is inscrutable.

I watch her through lidded eyes, wondering at what she was hiding. Grief? Or guilt? 

"Please, Aunt, stay and ask whatever questions are necessary. My 'injury' is not as great as you seem to think it to be; I have suffered far worse in my time. I can answer a few questions before I rest. Indeed, I should have stayed in Bleys' study for further conversation; but I feel far better after Huntington's infusion for my headache. It would be best if you raise any questions Bleys - and yourself - may have on the events; as they say, 'Time fades even legend' - and this past day is not yet even a legend." I note her reaction (or lack of) to my words, and my hint that she may be here at Bleys' orders instead of her own initiative.

I gesture at the sideboard. "Please forgive me for not offering you refreshments before; would you like something to drink?"

Flora shifts back, and her reaction is one of quiet surprise and, perhaps, a mild sense of... respect. "Well, it's good to hear that you are feeling better. Huntington has steadfastly refused to give me his recipe for tea - he says he'd never see anyone without it." She laughs lightly. "But rest assured that I am here only for myself, for a deeper sense of what has happened to Corwin. Bleys, busy as he is, merely expressed a worry that such a possession as Corwin's blade would be safe in the hands of someone with, as he put it, 'such inexperience in the hazards of life'." She smirks. "I don't share his doubts - for I have been to Averdor several times. It is a peaceful land, and you carry its quiet resolve.” I incline my head in acknowledgement to her observation about Averdor. "I can inform Bleys when next we meet, that despite my 'inexperience in the hazards of life', I can, and will, hold Greyswandir until it can be returned to its rightful owner. If someone wishes to take Greyswandir from me, they are welcome to try. I doubt they will be successful." I flash a rather feral smile. "I may be dreadfully predictable and transparent to many of you, lacking your experience in intrigue and Shadow, but I am formidable in my own way."

She nods and continues. “I was wondering if you'd notice what has been left for you on that sideboard." She slides out of her seat and walks over to the sideboard. She selects the bottle of sparkling white wine on the far right and holds it out to you. It reads, _From the House of Viceroy Mackenzian, Attendant of the Far Shores - Mackenzian Silsillade, 2376 A.P.._ I recognize the title - this was the personal label of a vassal of the King of Averdor, the lord of the lands across the Sea of the Twilight. And I know it to be a good year, as well. She pours two glasses into fine crystal flutes.

"I think you'll find this a good companion to Hunt's tea - the flavor is subtle and ephemeral." She offers you a glass. I accept, and nod my thanks to Flora as she reseats herself. "No,” she continues, “I didn't come here to interrogate you, for I am satisfied as to your character and your integrity. I merely sought as much information as I could know about the incident, as it is the only relief from the waves of terrible ignorance that crash over this house daily in this time of crisis." She takes a delicate sip of the wine, and smiles. I sip the wine myself and roll the flavor on my tongue, closing my eyes in bliss. It was indeed a very good year. "Bleys is even now trying to suppress the tide from spilling out into the city - he has taken a squadron of the Castle Guard and tours the streets, a strong champion and a presence of the Royal Family. If Julian were here, he would be a much better choice - the people know him as a trusted protector of the frontier. But, Bleys is doing what he can. Gerard is taking the situation far worse than most will admit - I think he is feeling the weight of uncertainty, and his strength can do nothing to lift it. But I believe we are expecting most of your generation to arrive tonight or tomorrow morning, and Gerard is asking that you assemble for a meeting in the Grand Hall tomorrow evening before dinner." She sighs heavily, and then takes a longer drink of the wine. "I only wish we knew more. I believe Caine is right - I believe Benedict and Fiona were first targeted in order to prevent their aid to us, as we grew more aware of the attacks. And the fact that both of them were taken is...." Her voice trails off, uncertain and fearful.

I gaze into my glass, watching the light dance through it in shifting patterns as Flora trails off. "I, too, fear that those two were taken first to cripple us." I take another sip. "It was a very good tactic for our enemy - divide and conquer. Take the two individuals that would be the most threatening to an invasion, then take the Monarch - the glue that holds the rest of the family in place and prevents us from falling on each other. Now we are falling into disarray, eyeing each other with as much suspicion, if not more, then we watch outsiders." I sigh and set down my glass next to Greyswandir. "I am sorry, Aunt. I wish I could help you more, but I really have no further information on Corwin, though I wish I did. Have we as of yet tried a massive effort to get through to those missing? Perhaps by having most of the family concentrate on trying to contact one individual through their Trump? With many people trying, we may have better luck."


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 30, 2004)

As Flora sips the wine gracefully, letting the flavorful liquid roll around before swallowing, her face alights with a smile, but the expression is somewhat more bitter. She swallows and speaks. "You are a little new to the Castle and the Family - there has *never* been a time when we have not eyed each other with more suspicion than outsiders. It is hard to fear betrayal either from the insubstantial phantoms of Shadow, or from the sworn enemies of Chaos. Those two at least offer security, of a sort." She takes another quick sip.

"We have indeed tried Trumping as a group - before the War, it was used to try to reach Brand. I believe it _may_ have been tried to reach Benedict, perhaps Bleys, Corwin and Gerard working together. As far as I know, it came to nothing - the same as all the efforts. I halfheartedly expect some disembodied voice to appear inside the contact - 'The person you are trying to reach is no longer in service. Please hang up, and try your call again.' " She speaks the words in a monotone that she apparently finds comical - I find myself unfamiliar with the reference, however.

"However, we are reluctant these days to commit to such collaborative operations as group calling, as it involves a lowering of defenses within the group, and we do not know who or what is responsible for our current troubles. So there is a general consensus that it would be... somewhat imprudent right now." She sighs. "Sometimes I think the conquest of Amber is such a trivial thing, so fragmented and disparate is its defense even in the best of times." She takes another sip, and then gazes directly at me.

"And on that regard, let me assure you that Bleys means well when he is somewhat anxious about someone as young as you possessing such a powerful artifact as Greyswandir. Do not mistake his comments for the chiding of a relative - it is the comment of a battle-tested commander, who fears to lose a powerful weapon because it may be poorly defended. He knows little of you or of Averdor - he knows only that if Benedict and Fiona both fell, nobody is safe." Her expression changes, briefly, and I cannot read it. But she sighs again, and visibly relaxes.

I wave away Flora's comments about Bleys. I had my own theories, and it didn't matter much at this date anyway. _I suppose she is somewhat correct - Bleys knows little of me, but for that matter the same goes for most of my relatives. Oh, that I could be ignorant of my true heritage once again…._ The stab of loss that accompanies the thought banished the wish from my mind. Life simply would not be the same without Amber.…

"I've noticed of recent that you generally seem to have avoided spending time with your younger relations residing here at the Castle. Being slightly suspicious of Shiro I can understand - he is of a different culture, and will take some time to acclimate himself to this society, this world. But what of Orion? He has lived here for a long time, and would make a good friend in these times, I believe."

I stand and walk to the window, sweeping up my glass from the table as I do so. "Shiro didn't answer the door this morning - I had thought to invite him on a ride through Arden. Upon reflection, that was probably a fortunate coincidence, because of the outcome of that little ride. Orion I have spoken with on a few occasions, since we have both been here for a bit of time - but he is no doubt busy with the Rangers at the moment, and I hesitate to distract him in this crisis."

Flora slowly rises, her glass empty and set on the desk. "Shiro is indeed quite the early riser. I don't know if it's just his own way of the world, or the Shadow equivalent of jet lag. But I believe he was speaking with Queen Vialle in the solarium earlier today. She's leaving, by the way. I'll miss her dearly, but I do believe it's for the best. Although I'm _still_ hard-pressed to agree with Bleys on the definition of 'safe house'..." Her eyes roll upwards briefly. 

I raise a questioning eyebrow at the news. "I am saddened to hear of the Queen's departure. I had thought that Amber was supposed to be the safest place, which is why those of my generation were being recalled - I would be interested to know what could be considered a 'safe house' if not the castle."

"I will agree that I believe Amber, and the very Castle, to be the safest place I know of. Unfortunately, even the treasure room did not provide Random adequate security. I won't say where the Queen is headed, as secrecy is the entire point of her departure. However, once the situation here returns to normal, there is someone on the staff who has special instructions that will allow her to be contacted." Flora turns and paces back to the sideboard, depositing her empty glass there.

I continue to listen to Flora's thoughts and guesses while slowly draining the rest of my wine from the glass.

"And yes, Orion will be busy for some time. Ideally, though, he'll have enough sense to leave in place most of Julian's procedures and patrols. My brother has the delicacy of an ox, sometimes, but he has guarded Arden long enough, and _fervently_ enough, that I do trust his judgment in that regard." She moves towards the window I am standing at, which overlooks one of the barer faces of Kolvir - but it is a wonderful view nonetheless. "But I had more meant why you hadn't introduced yourself to Orion in general, not just today. But never mind - I'm sure your generation will get to know each other soon enough."


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 30, 2004)

I turn from gazing out the pane to look at Flora. "Truthfully, dear aunt, my avoidance of the family is not new. Most of the family makes me fairly uncomfortable - save Benedict and Corwin, and in the past, Deirdre." I sip my wine and look at her. "I am a very forthright person, Aunt, and most of the family is _not_."

I take another sip, letting the flavor roll off my tongue. "Forgive me for being blunt, but there it is. I had thought of making myself scarcer about Amber before this current emergency. Now, I feel compelled to stay. It is my duty."

I turn away and lean myself against the windowpane, my profile towards Flora. "I will attempt to make connections with the others of my generation if it pleases you, Aunt. You are correct in that I should at least do that." I wave away the subject.

However, as I speak of my discomfort with most of the Elders, Flora’s eyes pick up... what is perhaps a twinkle of sorts. "My dear, I _do_ wish to make one distinction for you. Bluntness is one thing – *crassness* another. Just because you wish to speak plainly is no reason to speak rudely. Speaking of Julian." She smiles lightly. "And not that I think you have offended me with your frank words, I merely wish to remind you that you can be both plainly polite or plainly impolite. But I appreciate that it becomes difficult to care for people whom you know are at the very least circumspect and evasive, if not outright deceitful. But try not to hold my brothers and sisters too responsible for how they were raised. Father was... somewhat willful, and his temper and delight turned *very* fast. Children are wont to compete with one another - and especially as our mothers tended not to remain available for long, Father was the judge and jury of all our affairs." 

She thoughtfully stares down out the window, straining to make out some of the city far below. "If I were a more cynical person, I might suspect the dear King of purposefully creating an environment in which it would be impossible for any one person to acquire so much influence as to possibly supplant him. But to be honest, I believe he just didn't notice the side effects of how he treated his children." She breathes out slowly, and draws another breath after a moment.

"But I am glad to hear your resolve to defend Amber and her people. We will need such resolve, I suspect - that and so much more. I am glad to speak to you now, to learn your mind, while..." She turns her eyes away from the world outside, and matches my gaze, strong and yet pained. "I don't know how much longer I can expect to remain free - we lost our best students of both war and the supernatural early on, so we have never had even the remotest idea what was assailing us. But the pace has increased over the last three days, and I fully expect that one more will go missing today."

She has drawn her Trump deck from a pocket, and is rifling through it, pausing occasionally. "But these wonderful cards suggest that they are not dead - merely out of touch, out of range. So I am hopeful. Not for the now, but for the future. I have a hope that you and your cousins will, after much struggle, solve this riddle and rescue us. But it will require a sense of purpose such as you have declared. And so, I am comforted to hear your words."

I take her disguised admonishment as what it is; I was being rude, after all. I show little reaction to most of her news, feeling too run down to even care at this point. _If it happens, it happens... Although I do feel sorrow at those lost to us, I don't believe that they are dead... and there is nothing I can do to protect anyone from the same fate. Except lend my sword arm to Amber should She need it._ Still, I feel compelled to at least speak some comforting words, regardless of if I believe them or not. "Perhaps we are incorrect in that assumption and none will fall this soon. It is possible that a more forthright attack will be launched soon - as terrible as it is to say, I would prefer to hope for that rather then more of these disappearances."

Flora nods. "I agree - an open assault, even the gunfire we heard during the Interregnum, would be music to my ears compared to the terrible silence of the Castle's halls of late. It wears upon me like a heavy woolen coat in the middle of a desert." She sighs and turns. "But I am still here now, and there is much I can still do for Amber - and for you, if I can." She smiles warmly and openly - and it seems without pretense or posture.


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## Goddess FallenAngel (Jul 30, 2004)

I debate changing the subject and bring up the individual I had spotted in the infirmary before finally deciding that I may as well. _She's here, and we are having this little 'heart-to-heart' chat..._ I stifle a sarcastic laugh before it begins. "Aunt, I saw someone while I was being tended to by the Doctor that I feel I should know. Perhaps it is the shock of the past few hours," I gesture at my appearance with my burned hand, "but I cannot link a name to a face." I describe the man with the katana and wakizashi.

Flora listens patiently to my description. "Well, I cannot guarantee it, but it sounds as if you have met Sterling, albeit briefly. Sterling is a family friend, and has been for a very long time. He has served many of my brothers well in some of their more... private affairs. Recently, I believe, he had taken Shiro under his wing, and it was Sterling who brought Shiro to Amber. I would really have expected him to be with Shiro - tomorrow is rather an important day, and I suspect that Shiro will have questions on how to proceed. The infirmary, you say? Hmmm. I have no idea why he would go all the way down there. But the fact that he excused himself to a private room does not necessarily mean he had business there. Keep in mind that anyone can use a Trump, and that many Shadowdwellers know sorcery - as Sterling does, indeed. He may have already reported seeing your... _find_... to someone."

I nod at her words. "Well, it matters not at this date, Aunt. I can hide the sword or carry it openly, but I doubt it will take long for word to get about that Corwin has fallen to our unnamed enemy as well. What would you and Bleys, as the only two to whom I have _told_ of the sword, wish me to do?" I set my empty glass down and turn to face her with a raised eyebrow. _Of course, what they desire me to do naturally won't necessarily be what course I follow, but it is polite to ask advice of one's elders._

"What you should *do* with the item you have secured? I can't say I know at all what would be best." Flora lets her eyes linger on the sheathed sword on my endtable. "I must say I don't always know my brother's mind, but if Corwin has given it to you - especially in the circumstances you describe - I am most reluctant to interfere. Keep it safe - but that is obvious. I do not believe it should be made known to the citizenry that Corwin and Greyswandir have become separated, and I would ask that you work to keep that from becoming known to them. After that, if you believe that you should share the knowledge with someone, I cannot say that you should not. But always a warning - not *every* child of Amber is as dedicated to it as you are. Some may desire some of her more potent treasures for themselves. You are indeed a strong and powerful champion for the sword, and the kingdom - but prudence is ever a watchword within these walls." 

She starts to move to the door. "You appear tired - and dwelling on this is wearying even to me. I will go rejoin Bleys - while he is a good negotiator and knows the houses of Chaos well, I am his best source for information on the needs of the City and of the Golden Circle. You should really rest, now. We anticipate almost all of the younger generation arriving at the Castle tonight or tomorrow morning, and are planning a luncheon to get acquainted and to pool whatever information we have." She smiles and nods at your table. "_That_ will be for you to hide or divulge at your discretion - Bleys will merely include Corwin's name amongst those of the lost."

I smile at Flora and move to the door. "I thank you for your time to speak with me, and for your... openness of words. I will think upon our conversation. Surely we will speak more often." I bow low and open the door for her. "Please rest, aunt - you look almost as tired as I am." I give another genuine smile. "Let us hope for the best - mayhap we will wake up tomorrow and this will all be a bad dream."

Flora smiles in sympathy and caresses my cheek briefly. "Thank you, Killashandra. You give me hope." With that, she walks gracefully out the door and closes it behind her.

I feel very, *very* tired. It's been a long and stressful day, and I have much to consider for tomorrow. I decide that I have enough energy left in you for a few bedtime preparations, but I can feel the call of the soft sheets and quilts in front of me, and their allure is growing harder to resist.

I lock the door behind Flora and drag myself to my bed, detouring only long enough to move Greyswandir to my bedside table. I sit heavily on the bed and remove my boots and belt; I lay Sha'kar, unsheathed, on the bedside table as well and mentally bid him to be watchful. Without any more ado, I strip and fall into my quilts, into the depths of unconsciousness. Morpheus steals over my frame quickly and easily - the day's trials and tribulations have come to a close. I dream in fractures and fragments. Images of Corwin, Bleys, Flora, Huntington, and of the landscapes of Averdor swim around inside my dreamscape. Throughout it all, though, there is a dark undertone - a note of ominousness and foreboding that I cannot escape. Eventually, however, the dreams come to an end as I sleep a harder sleep, borne of exhaustion and fatigue.


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