InTheCourtOfTheKelticKingIn the Court of the Keltic King"Okay, a few days here first;" Kieran says. "I'll need some time to interview and pick people for my 'staff' as it were. Plus Paril, Gate and I can hammer out and polish the plans for Voyager's conversion." "Thank you" Paril says, relieved. 3 days later, Kieran is on a orbit-to-ground shuttle hatched from the Crimson Hippogriff, the trans-planet liner that he took from Caledon, spiraling down toward the spaceport. For the entirety of the orbit-to-ground shuttle trip, Kieran, and his four man retinue, have been subjected to the endless blather of one Powell Gwendas, a weapons manufacturer who was taking a vacation on the largest planet in Keltia. An endless stream about himself was mostly tunable out, even with Kieran’s politeness. Kieran certainly has had worse people to talk with, especially in the Republic-turned Empire. Powell seems mostly harmless. Maybe even a bit too much, so? Finally, about three quarters of the way down, the red haired, green eyed merchant turns his attention to Kieran. “So what brings you to our fair planet? I’d swear you have a Scotan accent, but there is something foreign to it, too.” he says. "Aye;" Kieran says. "I've traveled more than a little in my time." Kieran stretches out cautiously with his senses (Mind Magics) to observe Powell. Does he have mental shields up? What accent, if any, does Powell have? Anything in his clothing/style of dress/etc. that gives anymore clues about him? "Little bit of business and pleasure;" he says after a moment. "I haven't been to Tara in a while and I've come to reacquaint myself with Caerdroia and look up some old friends." He smiles politely. "And yourself?" Powell professionally stifles a sigh. "I told you already Kieran." Powell says. "About twenty minutes ago." His accent is definitely the relatively uninflected, smooth "received pronunciation" that marks him as a relatively high class citizen of the capital city itself. His clothing suggests this as well, well tailored clothes, conservative, fashionable. Not terribly ostentatious, though. "I'm here to see my wife and children, and pick up some new leads for further business opportunities. Word on the street is, the price of guns and weapons are going up these days. I need to cash in on the boomlet." He has the most basic of mental shields up, enough that suggests to Kieran he has had *some* training, but not a lot--in the military, perhaps, or one of the various societies, or taught by a Druid, maybe. "Speaking of which, I noticed you have a nice retinue with you." Powell moves his head subtly. "Could be that your retinue might need some weapons. I get the sense you're the type that sometimes runs into trouble." "Ah, yes of course;" Kieran replies smoothly. "A weapons manufacturer." He has the most basic of mental shields up, enough that suggests to Kieran he has had *some* training, but not a lot--in the military, perhaps, or one of the various societies, or taught by a Druid, maybe. "Speaking of which, I noticed you have a nice retinue with you." Powell moves his head subtly. "Could be that your retinue might need some weapons. I get the sense you're the type that sometimes runs into trouble." "Or it runs into me;" Kieran replies with a slight smile. "It all depends on one's point of view, of course. I think my people are suitably equipped for my current venture;" he says. "Still, it never hurts to see what the latest and greatest is." He smiles politely. "Tell me, what you would suggest for them? Does your company specialize in personal weapons then, or do you produce more than that?" "Military contracts are frighteningly hard to get, Kieran." Powell says. "Court politics, favorites of not only the High King and High Queen, but the various courtiers is a complete and utter nest of vipers and no mistake. But in addition to weapons for those who need to protect themselves and protect those they are bound to, last couple of years, a few companies have started forming up. They don't always *want* weapons traced back to official armories, you know? And I stick to guns, blades, nothing that gets interdicted." "Interdicted;" Kieran says. "What is currently on the list then?" "Explosives, mainly." Powell says. "Grenades, Rockets, things on that scale." "But for your men, and you, I'd suggest our "Pistol and blade" combination. Take one of our Latene style blades, and pair it with our Risca style pistol, and you are looking at a great kit. You might even have one of them swap out a blade and add in a Crail Assault rifle Very popular." "Word is." Powell lowers his voice. "The government might seek to limit their sale, too, soon, to non-military types." Kieran smiles. "I'm sure the lads are particular about their blades, so assuming I were to agree to this; changing blades would be up to them. We can talk about firearms though." He pauses then, regarding Powell. "I have to ask; you do have the proper licenses and permits? It wouldn't do to run afoul of the law before even landing on the Throneworld." He chuckles gently, but his eyes closely watch Powell. Powell's eyes go wide slightly in fear before he recovers. "Of course I do. I wouldn't expect anyone who would want to do business with me wouldn't want to deal with someone licensed, permitted and bonded." Powell says, regaining his composure. "There are a number of people in the grey and black market these days, but the lure of those sales seem to me to not be worth the risk. You know?" Kieran shrugs his shoulders after a moment's thought. "That very much depends on the reason why those markets are in existence. During the dark times of the Marbh-draoi, I understand - from very reliable sources - that there was a rather brisk black market in weapons." He smiles again. "But that's not what we're dealing with here;" he says. *Not in public;* he thinks; *anyroad. I could acquire the weapons I'll need easily enough by walking to them, but this may save time and effort. And if he doesn't deal in some of the more exotic stuff I want, I'm imagine he knows of a few people that do.* "So, give me your contact information;" Kierans says. "I'll contact you in a day or two in order to arrange a meeting once I've settled in a bit and gotten organized." "Absolutely" Powell says. "Although we've recovered most of our technology after the dark times, I still prefer these." He produces a business card and offers it to Kieran. It is done in outstandingly ornate calligraphy: Powell Gwendas Powell's Weapons Manufactury 191 Isher Lane, Caerdroia "The right to buy weapons is the right to be free" Kieran takes the card and reads it. He smiles and nods his head at what he presumes is the company motto. "Live free or die;" he says. "Do you have a brochure or catalog my people and I can over before we get together again?" he asks. Powell chuckles. "I would be a poor salesman if I didn't." He ruffles through a briefcase and comes up with a four page, full color brochure. "This is the basic one that hits the highlights, and has information on where to find out more about my products. "I would be happy to send you a full catalog or two, directly, if you give me your contact information in turn. I presume you're staying in or around Caerdroia for awhile at least. Maybe not as long as a fostering, but not for a day or two, surely?"
"Be of cheer." Powell says. "There are things to see and do in the Capital that you cannot on Scota." Kieran nearly chuckles at this, having been to the Throneworld a time or two already, and places far more exotic even. Kieran considers things for a moment or two. There is a place in Caerdroia he and his people have used before and should still be safe to use even now. He pulls out a small notebook and pen. Turning to the last page in the book, he writes down: Kieran Elharn, 1060 Lennoxliss in the Highfolds, Caerdroia. "I need to have new cards drawn up once I get settled in;" he says while tearing the page out and handing it to Powell. "Still, send your catalogs there and they will get to me directly." Powell looks over the address, and nods. "Highfolds. I should have expected." he says agreeably, pocketing the piece of paper. "You should even be able to find Haggis in the restaurants over there, Kieran. Although I hear a chef at the Crimson Lion in the center of the city is doing reinterpreted and classed-up Scotan cuisine." Kieran's expression suggests he doubts anyone can, successfully, up-class Scotan cuisine. "Crimson Lion, eh?" he says after a moment. "I may have to check it out. My thanks." "Only one of the top ten restaurants in the entirety of Keltia, according to Hester's Food Guide." Powell confirms . "Please make ready for final landing procedures." comes an announcement. "Return to your seats and fasten your restraints. We will touchdown shortly." "I think that's our cue, Powell;" Kieran says while securing his items and checking his belt. "I look forward to doing business with you." "Likewise, Mr. Elharn. Likewise." Kieran's plans, after they've landed, is to head to the Highfolds quarter and then to the Scotan Embassy/Enclave, to take up official residence there. He's been here more than a time or two in the past, sometimes with one or both of his parents, sometimes on his own. Kieran alone with an entourage is a bit of a surprise, but there is sufficient room in the Scotan Embassy to accommodate him and his team, in close to the usual quarters well out of the view of normal Embassy functions. Kieran is convinced by now that the staff expects that he is acting as a spy or watcher for his Mother, on whom he is acting as a spy is a more complicated question. Kieran is content, for the moment, to let the staff believe what they wish. It could prove to be useful. He'll send one of his people; one Powell has seen, plus a one or two others to the place on Lennoxliss to take up 'residence' there. Three of his entourage are suitably and subtly dispatched. Kieran still has an entourage, even if its a slightly smaller one, now. After settling in the royal suite at the embassy, he'll send word to the Ambassador that he'd like some time for a meeting as soon as it's convenient. Ambassador Glenross has an opening free in the morning. Kieran is aware that even that is probably rearranging his schedule as much as humanly possible; it doesn't do to keep the son of the Mistress of Scots waiting too long, after all. This of course does leave Kieran with an evening free, if he should choose to take advantage of it. Kieran has a quiet dinner ordered and brought in for himself and his entourage. He'll take care to examine his quarters and the suite given over to him and his for surveillance devices and/or actual watchers. It does turn out that there is a relatively standard recording device, small, hidden underneath the main work desk. It appears to be of standard Keltic design and works by broadcasting in a relatively underused RF band. Kieran points out the device's location to his people and leaves it in place; for now. Better to leave the one he knows about in place, than to disable this one and have someone sneak in to place a new one. Out of range of the device, he'll fill in his people on the device's location and probable capabilities. Truly important conversations among his people will be conducted elsewhere, but they should still maintain normal conversation levels around the device to keep it's listeners believing it remains undiscovered. Kieran's team is thus forewarned and forearmed. "Do we know who placed the device? Embassy staff? Aiobells? Their Majesties?" says Ormond, one of Kieran's entourage. "Do we care?" Bothwell counters. "Without disassembling it;" Kieran shrugs his shoulders; "No, I don't." He'll check in with his people at the house on Lennoxliss as well. His people there report that there is a subtle stakeout in progress. Thomas, their leader, asks for instructions in how Kieran wants to deal with it. They are to observe and record images, if possible, of their watchers. Thomas has a trump of Kieran to use if needed to bring him through; or for them to come through to him. Later, he'll instruct his people to watch the entrance to the suite and admit no one without his permission. His people have secure comm gear with which to reach if necessary. Dressed in clothing to indicate commoner status with a small harp in a case slung under a shoulder and concealed under his cloak, Kieran will slip out a window and levitate down to the ground after observing the surroundings for a time to ensure no one sees his departure. He'll slip out of the embassy compound and blend in with the night and traffic. Kieran is pretty convinced that this unusual exit manages to shake any potential tails. Certainly his exploration of the city does not reveal any obvious or even not so obvious followers. He'll spend some time exploring the city, and several inns and taverns, getting a feel for the city's inhabitants and their current thoughts, opinions, etc. With the harp, he can portray himself as a wandering bard or musician. And so he can. Over the course of the next couple of hours, he can get a few coins (not that he needs them), and get a sense that, indeed, things are different in the capital city, too. There are more constables/police/soldiers in the street than ever before. Rarely if ever in groups, but a far more prominent presence than Kieran is used to. They seem ordinary enough, and sometimes even friendly--Kieran espies one giving a young lad a chocolate bar, but the sheer quantity of them seems unusual to say the least. What, or rather, whose uniforms to the soldiers wear? Any identifying symbols, accents, etc.? They are mostly Taran accents, with a mixture of most of the other planets in Keltia. There is a distinct lack of Scotan accents, though. The citizenry doesn't seem to notice or care about this. Or at least they don't express opinions on the composition of the soldiers. Inns and taverns seem to always have a soldier or two ,drinking and amongst the patrons. Conversations do not quite have the verve and freewheeling nature Kieran is used to. Subjects of conversation are somewhat muzzled, to his ear. The patrons are nervous and reserved around the soldiers. He'll use Third Ear to listen in on conversations while observing the soldiers. The conversations are definitely mostly innocuous. The weather. The doings of the Royal court, in a distant and vague sort of way. How the local Hurling clubs are doing. This is a theme that gets repeated, with different clubs, at the various spots Kieran visits. Kieran waits until one of the soldiers, preferably an officer - but one will take what one's offered, gets ready to leave. Kieran will slip out ahead of the soldier and lie in wait to, at first, follow the fellow. Kieran's plan is to follow the soldier for a bit, to make sure he's not being followed himself, then catch up to the soldier and then through either eye to eye or direct physical contact, overpower the soldier and quell any attempts at escape or calling for help. Then, Kieran will begin to question the soldier as to what he knows of the current goings on, troop strengths, current orders, etc. Kieran does get an underofficer who decides at one point to get some air, or perhaps is done with his duties in the Duck and Dragon. Subduing him, mentally and physically is a relatively trivial task. He has some basic shields, but Kieran is able to blow through them, given his training and parentage. Underofficer Kay Risedall is from the planet Erinna, the dry, dusty, deserty Duraray Plains to be precise. He's not a mushroom, but his orders are to maintain order and keep an eye on things where people congregate and talk. Those are his current orders, and his intention is to fulfill them. Kieran gets intimations and thoughts that he himself is unsure why the military is suddenly doing this, and why Tara is suddenly being militarized, but there is a strong theme that it is all the name of Keltia's Security, following the attempted invasion. Kieran steers Risedall into an alleyway and deep into the shadows. There, he procedes to Mind Map the young underofficer while probing for further information. What does he know of the attempted invasion? Why are there a scarcity of Scotans in the city? Does he have orders concerning Scotans? He doesn't know why there are a scarcity of Scotan officers or in general, but Scotan nationals are something he is supposed to watch out for. The ostensible reason is the possibility that there are Scotans who were suborned, or being impersonated, in the wake of the attempted invasion. Doing something like an embargo would be far too hostile and overt, and so instead of restricting their travel, keeping an eye on them, just in case, seems to be standard policy. That, and Scotans are known for having nasty tempers when their lives and liberties are threatened. Indeed, as do many Kelts, Scotans are no exception to that whatsoever. Kieran is also getting a trump call at this point. If the Mind Mapping of young Risedall is complete, Kieran puts the Underofficer to sleep for the moment, and checks his caller ID. If the Mind Map is still in progress then Kieran blocks the call. Risedall's Mind Map is just about complete, and sending him to sleep is a trivial task. He is slumped against the wall, in the quiet alley off of a square where Kieran waylaid him. The caller ID on his trump call shows that the caller is his father. Kieran takes the call. "What's up, Dad? I've been here less than a day." "Snap judgements are often useful." Dad replies. "And if I know my son, you've not sat idle since arriving on the Throneworld. And given how odd things are, checking in with you is an idea both your mother and myself had." Kieran's expression remains unchanged at this; carefully schooled to reveal nothing. He pauses a beat. "Also, your cousin Martin has arrived here. Your Grandmother's doing, and he has some odd stories to tell. And given how much we've told you that in some ways you resemble him, I was offering you a chance at dinner." "I've a few tongs in the fire, so to speak;" Kieran allows. "But I've gotten all I'm likely to get for tonight." He shrugs his shoulders. "All right; pull me through but we'll have to keep my presence on Scota unknown as the Erinnachens think I'm passing a quiet night in the Scotan embassy in Tara." The view behind Kieran shows something completely other than the inside of the embassy of course. "I'll need to contact my people and let them know where I am, once I'm there;" he says. "Of course." Dad says. "I only intended to detain you for a couple of hours, at most." "Martin? That the one who doesn't take Trump calls?" Kierans while extending a hand. Dad pulls Kieran through, and into a sitting room of the Castle. "Yes and no." Dad says. "He's learned a lot of tricks about Trump, in self protection, and has some interesting technology that he has developed. Not quite the same as yours, and his latest creation is definitely different in theme and tone. You might consider it similar to one of those Protocol droids, although the basis of the technology and its feel is completely different." "Maybe he and I can compare notes sometime;" Kieran says. "Well, he is going to be here for dinner, at least, before he heads off to talk to Random. So you might get that chance." Percy says. "He's in one of the guest suites. Your mother would not appreciate the stink of seawater in the personal dining room." Kieran pauses at the mention of Random. "Uhm, can he keep a secret from the King?" Kieran asks. "If not, then my having walked the Pattern already should not be brought up." "What *were* you doing in that alley, anyway?" Percy adds. "Chatting with an Erinnachen officer about their forces being in Tara, and the lack of Scotans in Tara;" Kieran shrugs his shoulders. "The young underofficer didn't know much, and didn't want to talk at first. Fortunately, I'm rather persuasive when I want to be, and the officer won't remember me or our conversation when he wakes up either." "Of course." Percy says with a smile. "In short, the Erinnachens think, fear that the Scotans may have been infiltrated and suborned since the failed invasion. My guess is that they were the ones infiltrated, but I can't confirm that yet of course. I have been to Court yet, so I can't say as to their influence there yet." "I'd seriously consider a close up, in depth, covert examination of that station they're building on the backside of Ruchdi;" Kieran says after a moment. "I didn't like it before, and now, even less." "Hmmm." Percy says, thoughtfully. "I can kind of see why they might think we had subversives running around, that makes sense, but this ham handed approach might be, as you say, a way to cover their own compromised nature." Kieran nods his head. "That is a good start you've made. As Mom and I expected." Percy says. "Finding out how far up this theory of theirs goes, or the infiltration if you are right, is something key to find out. And, as you say, get a look at that base. I wonder if I might persuade my cousin..." he looks up at the ceiling. "I've a couple of plans on how to learn more about that." He taps his head with a finger. "And now a contact list to go through and question." He pauses and grins. "And, I want to see how they react when a Scotan prince, one of the righ-domhna, arrives at Court. I want to see who jumps and how high." "Righ-domhna to both Scota and to the throne itself." Percy agrees. "Not that I would expect you to ascend to the throne, son, although I suppose with the way they do things here, its possible." Dad says. "Never quite grasped it, although it seems to me like the way Chaosians do things, but with less assassinations, orders of precedence and violence." "I'm sure your mother would agree with me that we hope Keltia won't start to emulate Chaos that way. It hasn't, but given how the poles seem to sometimes influence shadows, or so Brandeigh tells me, it would be possible, if we were not here to moderate that." "Who I am will make me a big target there;" Kieran says, then shrugs his shoulders. "But it will also make it harder for them to remove me or push me aside." Percy gives a neutral nod of agreement. [Kieran] pauses then and looks at his father. "I don't want either throne;" he says firmly. His gaze grows thoughtful. "I'd say let the Scotan throne go to one of my cousins here in the Scotan righ-domhna, unless you and Mom have been working on another child. But, until this mess is cleared up, I'll have to stay the heir. Can't take the chance the Yithonghu or the Omphalos, whoever is behind this, has infiltrated the ranks of our people here." "Wonder if Mom or Grandmother Fiona can whip up a spell to detect outsiders and outside influences." he says. "Even if your mother could not, and I would dare not say that in earshot." Percy says. "Your grandmother most certainly *could* develop a spell. The way I understand it, resonances of shadow are something you can find while using the Pattern, I cannot see how a spell cannot tie into those the same way." "Hmm;" Kieran says. "But which method is more likely to be detected by those sensitive to such things, I wonder." He gives it some more thought. "Scanning the entire realm could take quite a bit of time to accomplish. A spell tied into a device to act as a local detector might be a faster way to go." "Well, then." Percy says. "Dinner is nigh. Would you like to go and introduce yourself to my cousin, he's in the usual guest suite, or shall we just proceed to dinner? We're eating in the North dining room tonight." "Let's go meet your cousin and then bring him along to dinner;" Kieran says while bringing Faithful Mind and Mind Masque up. "Only those with a very strong mind will be able to see me now, so after you." "You've gotten very good at that sort of thing." Dad says, leading Kieran out of the room and through familiar corridors. "The interesting thing is that if Godfrey is going to see you or not. It, He, appears to be sentient. Probably Pattern-based, too. But is he even susceptible to mind magic? It's a good question that we're going to find out." "Lots of practice;" Kieran says. "Indeed;" he replies by way of comment about Godfrey. "Unicorn." Percy continues as they continue toward guest quarters. "I bet that Martin will be fascinated to find out." After a few seconds, a muffled voice calls out, "Come on in!" Kieran indicates the door with a hand. "After you, Dad." The door opens to reveal Percy. "'Bout time for dinner, Martin." he says. "Brandeigh would serve me up as dessert if I allowed you to miss dinner." He squints at the guard. "Aenghus, what brings you, here?" "Ah, your guest invited me here to ask questions about Scota and Keltia." the guard says. "Really?" Percy says, skeptically. Godfrey speaks. "Martin. My senses are giving me contradictory evidence. I appear to detect someone else here but direct sensory detection appears to be deliberately obscured." "Come out, Kieran." Percy says with a grin. He looks at Martin. "Forgive me, cousin, for using you as a guinea pig." Kieran enters the room, noting both the robot Godfrey and his father's cousin Martin, in passing, while focusing in on the guard. What livery is the guard, Aenghus, wearing? The guard is wearing the livery of the Scotan Royal Guard. "Really?" Martin says, and pulls out what looks like a PDA. "Seeing is believing, I guess, so I don't believe it. Let's see if I can find you. It's hard to fool Godfrey, you know. My favorite way to do this used to be bending light around myself, but he's got keen senses all over the spectrum. A mind-job works, but you never know how long 'cause you don't know how strong the minds are, plus you've never seen a posi-sprocket-tronic brain before. Cause I invented it. 'Course, the best way is to shunt most of your body into the fifth dimension," Martin says that in a spooky tone whilst wagging his fingers, "-and leave enough to sense what's going on here, but it's a pain to get back in one piece. Not to mention the laxative effects." Kieran sighs softly to himself and moves over to the guard. Dropping Mind Masque, Kieran reaches out and lays a hand on Aenghus, the unfortunate guard. At this point, it doesn't matter whether Aenghus is a member of the Scotan or royal guards; he cannot know (and thus report) that Kieran is here and not on Tara as last reported. Kieran attempts to psychically overpower Aenghus. He holds up a hand to his father and Martin. "Bide a moment, if you please." Martin smiles. "Found him." As Kieran works to overpower the guard, mentally, Godfrey speaks. "The effect appears to be an invisibility that relies on deceiving mental processing of direct evidence pointing to the user's existence." he says with a whirr of gears. "This Mind Masque would not obscure footprints in the snow, or other indirect environmental changes. The change in the exchange rate of carbon dioxide and oxygen, for example. Body heat emissions." "I find it interesting." Percy says to Martin "that my son was still able to partially fool Godfrey." "And that was without really trying;" Kieran grumbles. At this point, the guard is not going to remember that Kieran was ever there. Kieran also finds, most interesting, some post-hypnotic commands implanted in the guard to observe any unusual activity by the royal family of Scota and remember it. Unusual guests, strange behavior, the like. Kieran digs, gently because Aenghus is a Scotan and he doesn't want to disrupt the suggestion, to find out who planted the commands and what Aenghus is supposed to do if he does observe such activity. And if the guard knows who else among the royal guard and staff has been compromised. The guard does not seem aware of anyone being compromised. Backtracking and figuring out who might have done it will take some work, Kieran can get a mental trace he can recognize going forward, but whoever did this was nearly as careful as Kieran was with the soldier on Tara in covering his or her tracks. Aenghus is supposed to just take note of the behavior and commit it to memory, nothing more. No drops or meetings or anything obvious like that. It does occur to Kieran that committed to memory, such instances would be easy for someone trained in techniques to find and lift the memories. "My son is being cautious." Percy adds to Martin, and at this point, Kieran is done and free to engage in conversation. "Trump is not something we widely advertise, and he is supposed to be on a different planet." "Martin, this is my son Kieran. Kieran, this is Martin, your first cousin once removed, your Great Uncle Corwin's son." "Martin, this is my son Kieran. Kieran, this is Martin, your first cousin once removed, your Great Uncle Random's son." Kieran nods to Martin. "Nice to meet you. You too Godfrey;" he says politely. "Aenghus here;" he pats the guard's shoulder; "has been compromised Dad. He's been instructed to observe any unusual activity by any member of the royal family, and guests too, and then report it. At this point, I cannot say how many of the guards, and other staff for that matter, have also been compromised." "Lovely." Percy says. "Rooting them out is going to be troublesome." "I have a mental trace or signature, if you will, of whoever did this;" Kieran says. "I can hand it off to Mom or Grandmother, or another DragonKin, though I'd have to check him or her out first." “Best leave that to your mother, then. Or Aunt Fiona” Percy opines. Kieran looks more closely at Godfrey Godfrey is a vision of gears and clockwork. If you took a protocol droid, and remade it to work on gears and springs and pre-steam aesthetics, Godfrey might be close to the result. "You a gearhead then, Martin? If we have time, I'll take us over to my ship and introduce to you my co-pilot, Paril, and my astromech droid, Gate." "Yah, that's an understatement," Martin says. "Pleased to meetcha. I was grilling our friend, here, the old-fashioned alcohol-and-gab way, but I can see where that saves oodles of time." "The last I saw Martin, two decades ago my time." Percy says. "Martin's interests were more in the line with yours. Devices very similar to yours. Godfrey here, with his clockwork and gears, is definitely a departure from his norm." "I do not retain memory of the reason for my nature." Godfrey says, with a whirr of gears. "I compute a greater than even probability it is in line with the technological paradigms of the realms of Prince Corwin." "Gears, springs and sprockets;" Kieran says musingly. "Hadn't considered that option. Usually way below the tech level I prefer." He looks at his father. "Great Uncle Corwin likes tech then? Definitely have to get out that way sometime then." Kieran snaps his fingers. "Almost forgot;" he says. He reaches into a pouch and extracts a small deck of cards. He examines and removes two and offers them to Martin. "Here's my trump card. The top one gets me, the bottom one gets my answering service." Both cards appear to be of similar images. He smiles. For the record, Kieran's trump description: Kieran Elharn is a young, athletically built man standing about 5’ 10” tall and weighing around 175 lbs. He has a lightly tanned skin tone. His hair is auburn in color, slightly curly by nature and worn long and loosely braided. His eyes are a deep blue in color. He appears to have a three or four day old beard, giving him a slightly 'scruffy' look. Kieran wears a dark green shirt under a long, dark grey or faded black vest that covers his torso and upper thighs. Bracers made of a dark grey metal or composite material are worn on each forearm. Dark blue pants are tucked into black, knee high boots. A black belt with an electrum buckle is worn outside the vest with a dark green tartan sash underneath it. From the belt hang several pouches and a rod about a foot long made of a golden metal, with one end wrapped in black leather on Kieran’s left side. Over one shoulder, a golden headed light hammer or mace can be seen. Kieran has a pair of matched blaster or slugthrower pistols, strapped low down on his thighs, gunslinger style. "Hey, thanks," Martin says. "Hang on..." He takes out a pack of Trumps and starts shuffling. "I've got one or two extra of me, but that was just playing around artistically. Most of mine are on my PDA - you all don't mind me taking your picture, do ya?" Martin, for his part, is dressed in jeans and sneakers and a white button-down shirt over a black undershirt. A black leather belt supports a sheathed belt knife with a sapphire on the pommel, and a case for the little electronic device he's balancing in his hand with the Trumps. There's just the hint of some metallic button or something under the hair at the back of his head, if one looks closely. Kieran starts chuckling as he takes the cards from Martin. "Yeah, mine are mainly for the non-high technology inclined. Sure you can take my picture if I can take yours." Kieran raises his left arm up and says; "HTD; scan Martin; display image in one third scale.". The bracer on his arm beeps and a series of lights appear, and soon a 3D holographic image of Martin begins to form above the device. "HTD;" Kieran says; "is short for Holographic Trump Deck." He grins; "it also plays music and doubles as a comm unit. Martin grins back. "Shiny!" "And now you know why I wanted the two of you to meet." Percy says as he waits for the pair to finish taking pictures of the other. "Unless some engineer daughter of some relative has shown up, the two of you are the most cutting edge, or at least the most interested in creating things this way." "However, might I suggest we head to dinner, now?" he adds. "Keeping a Kelt waiting is a strategy that I've learned is not a sound one." Kieran verifies his scan of Martin is complete and set the HTD to creating a Trump image. "What about Cyllene then?;" Kieran asks. "Or does she just like to hang out in high tech shadows?" "Like her sister, Cyllene just seems to like weapons, like that big gun of hers." Percy says. "And the weapons on her spacecraft." Kieran brings Mind Masque back up. As he does so, he says; "I'll follow along behind you three then." He touches Aenghus on the shoulder once again, for a moment. "He will recall little of his conversation with you Martin and nothing of import or interest; too much whiskey don't you know? He will recall Dad showing up to escort you to dinner though." "Good enough" Percy says. Martin nods. "Too bad. I was hoping to get him to talk more. And give him some pointers, too; he sucks at the spy thing. As far as Godfrey goes, that's part of his charm. He's unique. And the steampunk aspect lets him operate in a higher range of shadows." "I have not yet computed the fraction of realities that I can potentially operate in." Godfrey comments. In short order, Martin and Percy and Godfrey are on their way to dinner. Kieran does manage to catch up, after plying Aenghus with some Mind Magic work. Aenghus soon heads off from the guest quarters, still trying to sort it all out in his head. Dinner this time turns out to be a private in suite affair, rather than with the Court, much, perhaps, to Kieran's relief. Percy, Brandeigh, Fiona, Deirdre, Martin and Kieran. Food is not quite on the table, but both Kieran and Martin can smell potatoes, meat, and vegetables from some unseen nearby kitchen, waiting to be served. "Our first toast should be to one of the largest gatherings of Family outside of Amber." Fiona says, amused. "Especially in peacetime." Deirdre adds. Kieran stands with glass in hand. He raises his glass; "To Family then. May we stay peaceful amongst ourselves and present a strong, united front t o our enemies." He takes a good pull on his glass of private, family label scotch and then sits down. "Well said." Brandeigh says, pleased. "Hear, hear," Martin says, and takes a drink from his own. "Wow, this is even better than the other stuff." "You didn't get him half drunk already did you?" Deirdre says with a tone of reproach to Percy. "No, Mother. I wouldn't dream of that." Percy says. "We did stock the guest room with some of the better from the local distillery though." "Och, and you are Random's son." Brandeigh says to Martin. "It makes sense." "Martin was headed back to Random before his little sojourn here." Fiona comments. She looks at Martin."I never asked...did you enjoy your operation with Meriel?" "You make it sound salacious, mother" Brandeigh says. "You should tell us all what you found." Percy says to Kieran. A serving bowl of something that looks like a cross between a meat and potatoes Irish stew and ratatouille is brought out by a servant from the kitchens. "I left orders we were not to be disturbed unless it was important." Brandeigh says. She looks at Percy and a private negotiation is conducted in their gazes. Brandeigh finally rises, and then heads toward the door. Kieran is about to start when the servant walks in. *Grap;* he thinks to himself. Rising smoothly to his feet once again, he moves to 'assist' the servant deliver the bowl. Faithful Mind is still up. With a friendly smile, he takes the bowl in one hand while laying a hand on the servant's shoulder. "Thank you;" Kieran says in a smooth manner while he dives into the servant's mind. (Domination first, then checking for the compulsion he observed in Aenghus, followed by a careful edit of the servant's memories.) Martin stays quiet through this, though there was a flash of discomfort watching the mind-magic. Then it's impossible to read him at all. The checking of the servant's mind goes quickly and easily. As best Kieran can tell, and he can tell very well, thank you, is that the servant's presence appears to have been an innocent mistake. No commands, no subterfuge, nothing more than the kitchens being a bit too zealous in making sure the Mistress of Scots and her consort and guest were well cared for this evening. Editing Kieran out of the memories of the servant is a trivial task, and the servant is soon departing from the room, convinced that Martin is the only other person in the room besides Kieran's mother and father. "It's what I do;" Kieran says with a shrug of his shoulders. "And I've had lots of practice." When Brandeigh comes back to the table, though, she is carrying several envelopes. "Waiting for me outside the door was a servant, with messages." Brandeigh says. "For Percy and I, yes, but most improbably the three of you as well..." she hands an envelope to Deirdre, Fiona, and to Martin. "Our brother Benedict's seal" Deirdre observes, examining the envelope. Martin can confirm that, the stentorian script with his name on the envelope is familiar, as is the seal. "Should I feel left out?;" Kieran asks while sitting back down. He brings up Third Eye and Ear and stretches his senses out beyond the room. Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you. Martin starts off with a little smile when he gets the letter - Benedict obviously hasn't slowed down any - but then it fades when he considers why everyone would get what they got when they got it. He opens his envelope and scans the contents. With his eyes, on this occasion, and not with, say, a PDA or steam-powered scanner. Beyond the room, the Castle appears to be a bit buzzed. Servants glancing toward the private room, and what is going on appears to be the order of the day. Curiosity appears to be paramount tonight. "You'll want to come up with a cover story for this dinner tonight, Mom;" Kieran says. "Too many servants have noticed something's going on. And I really don't want to spend the night playing with their memories." "I am not sure I want half the staff in the Castle mindwarped." Brandeigh responds. "An, you're not, technically, left out., Kieran " Brandeigh says after a moment, studying the letter she shares with Percy. In the meantime, Fiona and Deirdre read their letters as well. "He's been to Amber, met the King" Percy continues aloud "We can always refuse, or play possum on the issue. But do we want to?" He looks up at Kieran. "If you're referring to me;" Kieran replies. "I've been to Amber true, but I haven't met the King yet;" he says. "Lord Hendon was going to set up a time, but I got a little side tracked with my grandmothers. Still, I did give him my trump." "It appears Uncle Benedict is preparing for war." Percy looks at Martin. "You know him best, I think, from back during Patternfall. What do you think?" "War against whom?" Kieran asks. "Against the Omphalos," Martin says. "Ye gods, I've been drafted. A Tribune, though, that was clever." He sighs. "Guess I'll have to wait on Dad's weekly poker party." "You ARE one of his favorites." Fiona says to Martin. "And its a carrot to have you show up. He might try to get you to build more Godfreys, maybe non sapient ones." "We might have a loophole to keep you out of the war, Kieran" Brandeigh says. "The letter says any children fully acknowledged as scions of Amber. You haven't met the King yet, Kieran. Therefore..." "Benedict appears to be more interested in our children then ourselves." Deirdre observes. "They would argue less with him," Fiona says. "If he wanted to split hairs, Kieran has walked the Pattern. Doesn't get more official than that." Kieran glares, briefly, at his grandmother... Fiona smiles sweetly. [He] glances at Martin, then sighs. "Rinaldo has, and he doesn't count." Percy says. "Would *Dara* count?" Deirdre laughs. "She is of his line. I'd be amused to see my brother try." "Food is getting cold." Brandeigh scolds. "Let us eat, and then decide what we are going to do. Or aren't. Agreed?" Kieran starts passing food around, taking a portion of everything as it comes around to him. "I'd already decided I was going to take a trip to the realm of the Omphalos;" Kieran says after a few bites of food. "That's why I'm wanting to recruit a small force from here, my other haunt; the Empire, and some troops from Amber." He frowns then. "Probably not going to be able to get many recruits from Amber if the military there is gearing up for this." He looks at Deirdre; "What about the Valkyries though?" "I'll have to dicker with Random to see how many he will let me peel off." Deirdre respond. "It seems half of the guards in Amber today are Valkryies." Deirdre says, with a tone of pride. "I wouldn't want to leave the guarding of Castle Amber undermanned and entirely in the hands of the men." Kieran nods his head. "Thanks;" he says. Martin eats slowly, a slight frown on his face since the mention of an army of Godfreys. "You might find some takers in Amber," he says to Kieran, "since the bulk of the forces will be marched in from Shadow. I don't remember a Cincinnatus, or what kind of tech it would support." "Good point;" Kieran says. Godfrey, who has been standing in the corner, speaks at this point. "My data banks have no information on a shadow called Cinncinatus, Martin." he says. "Referents to a Roman general and dictator have been found. The probability that Prince Benedict has named or discovered the shadow in honor of said figure approaches unity," "So, he created the shadow." Percy says. "We'll ask him what sort of forces he is looking for. We also need to consider what the tech level of our targets are. This Paris, for instance. I am not sure, son, you can get a Y-wing fighter to strafe Omphalos troops on the Champs Elysees." "To quote an old mercenary maxim, Dad; 'Everything's air droppable at least once.';" Kieran says with a grin. "Further, we know the Omphalos own universe has high and low mana regions." Brandeigh says. "Getting there without a Door is going to be difficult." "My brother seeks a solution to that conundrum." Fiona says. "Tech, or lack thereof, is not really all that big of a deal;" Kieran says. "Yes, I like it, a lot; makes for fast moving ships and pretty explosions. But the Fianna here and the Mandalorians I'm planning on recruiting are used to working with various tech levels and adapting to the situations they find themselves in. Plus add in the Valkyries and Amber regulars, I should do okay." "Not for me." Martin smiles slightly. "I don't want to find or build an army of instant paperweights." "Not tactically useful." Deirdre agrees. Kieran considers his mother's statement. "Didn't you punch a trump call through to there, in order to contact Valerian? And you've been there, so maybe you could make a few trumps of places there?" Martin looks over too, wondering if he'll get to build that Trump-capable instant mind image extractor he's been thinking of. "We did manage to contact Valerian by trump" Percy replies. "Although it was barely able to get more than the audio for a trump. A physical transfer would require extended effort." He looks at Kieran and Martin thoughtfully. "Merle claimed he could get Ghostwheel to do it, but perhaps the pair of you might come up with a less Chaos based solution, should Uncle Bleys' efforts fail." "As far as trumps of places there" Brandeigh says with a smile. "We do have a small album of trump locations in Capital already made." "That's my daughter" Fiona says with satisfaction. Kieran smiles and nods towards his mother. "You rock." To Martin he says; "We need a trump gate of some sort; but those take a lot of power. Pushing one to the Omphalos is going to take a tremendous amount. Got any ideas?" Martin's smile grows wider. "If I can punch through a closed Shadow with a Trump antenna composed of wires and vacuum tubes, I can get us to the Omphalos. Yeah, I've got a few ideas. But we'd probably need to use Trumps to power it. It's kind of like what the Ghostwheel would be doing, anyway." For the next few minutes, Brandeigh, Percy, Deirdre and Fiona contribute nothing further, instead concentrating on eating. The food IS good and even Lord Michael of the Amber kitchens would be hard pressed to say anything against it. Finally, Brandeigh speaks. "The situation on Caerdroia with the royal court may not be usefully investigated in the short amount of time that Uncle Benedict has provided for arriving in his shadow." she says to Kieran. "Unfortunately, the potential problems are not going to go away while you are gone. On the other hand, keeping Prince Benedict waiting might be worse than the results of any Aiobhell plotting." Having him suddenly disappear now that he has shown up on the throneworld without explanation would cause problems." Percy points out. "Martin, though, will likely want to set to work on the problems that have been set his way in short order." Eyes turn expectantly toward Martin and Kieran. "How much time do we have before Great Uncle Benedict expects you?" Kieran asks. I can head back to Caerdroia and deal with things there and catch up via trump if I have to." "Seven days," Martin says. He's got paper and a pen from somewhere, and he's busily sketching. "It'll take time to make a framework anyway. I can walk to a place close to Benedict's shadow and start building something and look for help at the same time. That'll give you the larger part of a week, if you'll work on the harmonics while you're about it. I'm thinking of a fixed structure to hold a Gate, with a series of three or four Trump power sources built around it and feeding it. Like this." He hands the sketch over. "Most of that doesn't require the fine tuning that we'll need at the end." Kieran studies the paper and then the hologram of the gate once its up and running in the HTD; while continuing to eat of course. "I'd say three or five trump sources;" he says to Martin; "to provide power and control. I'll work on models and on synching the freqs. A week for you may be considerably more for me here, given the time flow. I'll use the extra time to gather some forces and train them as well." "It would seem, all things considered" Fiona says at the end of the meal. "That brother Benedict's gambit has shortened our vacation here." "Agreed, alas." Deirdre says. "Now, then" Brandeigh says. "I believe the both of you were interested in trumps." Kieran looks from the remains of his dinner. "Trumps, yes please." "Art and hyperdimensional hyperspatial inflections all at once," Martin adds. "Woot!" Brandeigh and Fiona decamp with Kieran and Martin to a library/sitting room. Kieran will note the distinct lack of servants. "Mother and son are talking more war related matters" Fiona explains. "Percy does have more than a half of a brain inside of him for such matters." "Of course, mother" Brandeigh says politely. The "trump album" turns out to be a beautifully bound book with plastic pockets that the cards rest in. It reminds Martin of his time on Earth and how collectors would store trading cards. The cards appear to be arranged by subject, people, and then places. Some of these trumps Kieran has seen before. Trumps of the family, all by Brandeigh's hand, including some attempts at Brandeigh doing trumps of people she could not possibly have met--Finndo, Osric, and Queen Clarissa, for instance. The section on places are mostly Amber and Keltia based, but a significant section is the reason why Kieran and Martin are here. Trumps of Capital. A number of plazas, a military base, some sort of facility, and a non descript (but high tech) looking apartment are among the cards. There are a number of random intersections and locations. "My goal, and Percy's" Brandeigh says "Was to have a variety of entry points so that if a reliable method of bridging the gap could be found, we could attack and reach multiple points with forces at once. Also, we considered the advantages of spying on multiple locations in hopes of finding optimal locations to attack." Brandeigh says. "Feel free to make copies." she adds. "That one" she indicates the facility "was one of their operations to target their Doors. They have multiple ones. What we don't have, and would be the real prize, is access to their equivalent of the Pattern." Backlinks |
