The King's Privy Council in SessionIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | PreGameLogs | The King's Privy Council in Session The King's Council did not meet with any notable regularity - although, in theory, any member could call a meeting whenever they felt it was needed. In fact, it was held relatively rarely. It was said the Mandor preferred to carry on the business of government with his own people and without outside interference, and that Flora believed that the less interference the better with her arrangements for the domestic and social side of the Court. Besides, as she would icily inform anyone foolhardy enough to ask, what possible need could there be for discussion when she was doing everything so perfectly anyway? Merlin, already compelled to hold public Court and receive ambassadors, objected strenuously to further meetings which he saw as unnecessary and boring. But periodically, if sufficiently fortified by copious amounts of brandy, he could be persuaded to summon his Privy Council to attend him. Today was such a day. The Council were summoned to meet two hours after lunch in the Star Chamber - a light and airy room located high in the palace. Oberon had used it for similar meetings which - given the style of Oberon's rule - had occurred rather less frequently than Merlin's. Eric had formed a King's Council composed of his siblings, (those that weren't dead, banished, or blinded in the dungeons), and his daughters. That had met rather more regularly, Eric being determined to impress on all beholders the generous and open nature of his kingship, (with those few unfortunate hic-cups) ... Within the room, under the high-domed ceiling that depicted the night sky above Amber, (with Tir na'Goth not in the least visible), the room was circular. Tall pillars divided the long windows that looked out over the ocean, in one direction, the city in another, to the side of Kolvir in a third and a distant view of Garnath, looking across to Arden in a fourth. Within the room, there was a circular table, like the hub of a wheel, only there were no spokes. All around were simple chairs, upholstered comfortably in the same deep blue as the night sky of the dome above. The only chair distinguished from the rest was the King's, which had more ornate carving and a higher back. But the king was not yet here. Those present so far were the two Amberites of the older generation who yet remained in Amber. Flora was sitting at the table, as serenely lovely and poised as ever, sitting tranquilly in her place and not displaying by even the faintest frown any irritation that her son was not yet present. Bleys was half seated on a windowseat between two of the long windows overlooking the harbour. He seemed to be studying some of the ships at anchor, and smoking a cigarette. A half empty glass of wine stood at his elbow. Outwardly Bleys appeared the same dashing and debonair charmer of days gone by. But the lines around his eyes were deeper. Vikund arrived without fanfare dressed in a dark suit with a cravat, a leather folder tucked under one arm. He paused opposite the king's chair and bowed though it was unoccupied. For anyone who took note of such things, (and such a person was already present), his body was angled in such a way as to direct the courtesy as much towards Flora as the empty chair. Flora ignored him. Bleys continued to stare out of the window. This done, he made his way over and took a seat at the table. Clytemnestra arrived next, with a radiant and well-rehearsed smile for all present, a smile that became a little wider when directed at Flora. She wore a long dress that was the light blue of a robin's eggshell, accented by a belt of silvery links; silver-and-diamond pins held her hair up, and silvery grey sandals covered her tanned feet. Her arms were bare, with a silver filigree-style bracelet at her wrist. It completely failed to clash with the room or the outside setting, even given the hour; of course, she gave no sign of just how long she had spent planning the outfit. Once acknowledging the others, (allowing plenty of time to allow the men to come to their feet), she sat at the place as far opposite of Mandor's place as possible. Flora, sufficiently far round the curve to permit such things, nodded graciously at Clytemnestra. Mandor entered at this moment, impeccable as ever in a pearly grey suit, with a pale blue tie, which, by matching perfectly the colour of one of his eyes, accentuated the oddity of the other. He made his way to the chair to the right of Merlin's, sat down and gave a nod at Vikund. Bleys straightened and strolled towards the table. "So," he said, laying a hand on Clytemnestra's shoulder by way of greeting, "who else is expected?" "The King, certainly," said Mandor. "Apart from that ... " "And having the King," said Flora, "means having his boon companion, I presume?" Mandor gave the faintest of shrugs. Larissa, in black that was high-collared, entered, looking unenthused. She gave those seated at the table something between a nod and a curtsy, clearly, albeit slightly, favoring Flora over Mandor. She came up behind Bleys and gave her favorite, (living), uncle a kiss on the cheek and a few murmured words of greeting. Bleys responded with a kiss in turn and a warm smile. He then moved to pull out a seat for Larissa - and took for himself the one between her and Clytemnestra. If Cly smiled at that point, not looking at Bleys, it might simply have been about welcoming the others. Damien was not far behind Larissa, though he made no effort to hurry to catch up. He wore a businesslike smile, which he had surrounded in dark silk and darker crushed lace. He nodded to those present, with enough movement of the waist to make it almost a bow. With a marshal turn on his heel, he made his way around the table towards his usual seat, which was one further down from either Larissa or Vikund. As only Vikund was yet seated, he sat beside him today. His boots clicked along the flagstones until he reached his chair, where he sat without fouling his wavy rapier in the chair. A short pause ensued - and then the door opened once more, this time on Merlin, who was accompanied by Morgan. It seemed the two of them had been talking about something - perhaps, (unusually), even arguing, for Merlin's frown was more angry than sulky. He moved swiftly to his seat and took it, indicating to Morgan that he should take the seat to his left, and then glowered around the table. "Who's missing still?" he asked irritably. Morgan slid lazily into his seat by the king. He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, as though searching for something among the stars. Clytemnestra suddenly found an interest in the design and color of the others' clothing, and avoided both Merlin's and Flora's eyes. "Jurt and Chadwick," Vikund replied without missing a beat, "unless apologies have been forwarded and not announced." He glanced casually across at Flora. "What wonderful company to be included with," Jurt laughed as he entered. He was plucking at the white lace cuff that emerged from his black velvet jacket. His trousers were white as were the boots below. "My apologies for my tardiness, a small matter, nothing to worry about." Merlin nodded curtly, then picked up a pen and began to twist it between his fingers. When it snapped abruptly, he set it down, glowered at it - and then directed a similar look at Flora. "And are we meant to be here all day waiting for your son to deign to join us?" "Not at all, your Majesty," said Flora smoothly. "Please proceed - I am sure Chadwick will join us as soon as he is able." Merlin gave her a last hard stare, and then looked around the table. "Very well," he said. "Who has matters they wish to bring before the Council today - apart from, of course, my beloved High Minister and my equally beloved aunt who doubtless seeks our decision on the choice of paint for the servants hall?" "That is actually proceeding rather well, your Majesty," Clytemnestra said. "Once you gave us the authority. I think you will be pleased by the results." She smiled. "That has taken up most of my free time, but I do have one Item to bring before the Council." She inclined her head slightly, gracefully. "Solitaire Helgram." Mandor raised his dark eyebrows slightly. "I can't see why that should concern me," said Merlin, irritated. "She's Mandor's star student - but very well. Put that down, Vikund - I presume you're keeping notes. Anyone else?" He was, and did. Bleys leaned forward slightly. "I think now might be a good time to discuss the situation in Khashfa." Merlin gave a curt nod this time. Morgan sighed, still staring at the stars overhead. "Vik, put down, 'bothering poor Captain Morgan with stupid treason plots,' on the list," he said. Vikund continued to scribble, but it wasn't entirely clear if that was in response to Morgan's comment. Merlin scowled. "All right," he said abruptly. Next?" "So long as His Majesty is pleased with the present results, I don't believe there is any need to discuss the economic policies, Larissa, Vikund*, and I have been pursuing to control inflation?" Damien asked without a note of irony. Still, he had reasonable expectations about Merlin's tolerance for a lengthy discussion of macroeconomics. Vikund paused and awaited His Majesty's reply. "Very pleased," said Merlin with relief. "Positively ecstatic. Let's just glide over that one, eh?" "Add it to the agenda, Vikund," said Mandor. "I'm sure we can wrap up the afternoon with a suitable presentation." Vikund raised an eyebrow, but made a note as he was bid. "Then let's start," said Mandor. "Vikund, do you have any data on the latest situation in Kashfa?" Vikund took a deep breath. "To remind those who are perhaps less eager observers of Kashfan foreign policy, His Majesty in his benign munificence has taken a laissez-faire attitude to their expansionist regime, given their unique position in the Golden Circle. That being, they were granted de facto status as a Golden Circle protectorate during the PatternFall War without incurring any of the onerous duties, such as sending troops to fight in King Erics's wars. This meant they emerged much stronger than other treaty realms, and they have been reminding their neighbours ever since. First Eregnor and Begma, now Persa and Etrusca are discovering what it means to be a rival of Kashfa. "Several options present themselves," he continued. "First, we could do nothing. This policy has served us well in the past. "Second, we could impose some form of blockade. A short, sharp shock to teach the Kashfans a lesson. The problem with this is that it cuts both ways-- Amber's trade will suffer as Kashfa's does, which will lead to privation and unrest in the city. "Third, we could try to prop up the governments of Kashfa's neighbors. This will involve time and effort, and of course expense. Royal approval will be needed before any plans can be presented, plus diplomatic meetings with the relevant parties, et cetera. "Fourthly, we could find an excuse to go to war with them. We have the troops and the ability, though the long term impact on trade should not be underestimated. A quick victory cannot be guaranteed, as war is a risky business. Kashfa has a capable magistrum and army, and would put up stiff resistance. Needless to say, certain other parties may make it their cause celebre, adding another layer of complexity. "This is, of course, just my perspective. If anyone else as anything to add, I'm sure His Majesty's Council will be only too pleased to hear." Vikund concluded, looking around the table, perhaps checking to see if anyone had nodded off. Damien had given every indication of paying attention from his position beside Vikund. "I must agree that an interruption in trade would be undesirable for a variety of reasons... but have diplomatic attempts to curb Kashfa's ambition been unsuccessful, such that we must now castigate them to display the consequences of misaligning their obligations and ambitions?" Morgan yawned. Clytemnestra had a slight frown that started with the word 'war' and didn't fade at the end. "Would the diplomatic option not have the best long-term effect?" she asked. "Perhaps the diplomatic corps could do with a little more resource and direction," Vikund commented. "Are you volunteering?" He asked Clytemnestra. "I'll go," Larissa said with a shrug. "Rinaldo is no fool. Kashfa can't take Amber in a war--economic or military. He's testing the limits of our forbearance, and a short visit should set them out quite clearly. Of course," and here she grinned and looked rather like her father, "there's no reason we couldn't hold war games with a neighboring Shadow at the same time." Morgan perked up. "Maybe take a few ships and raid some shipping?" he asked hopefully . Jurt seemed amused by Morgan's interest but also content to let those with their fingers in the Kashfan pie make such policy. "I could shape some very creative war games," offered Bleys. "And mistakes ... do happen." "Mistakes that should not endanger our ambassadors," said Mandor. "The ladies Larissa and Clytemnestra." Cly raised an eyebrow at this, fully aware that she hadn't yet committed to the diplomatic mission. She looked away from Mandor. Merlin smiled at Flora. "Shall we send Chadwick as their muscle, Auntie?" Flora shot him a look so cold there should have been icicles dripping off Merlin's nose. "Rissa and Clyttie both," Morgan said. "Fire and ice. Or is it ice and fire?" Mandor frowned at the nickname applied to his daughter but - for the moment, said nothing. Cly gave him a smaller version of the look Flora was giving Merlin. "Juno and Venus," Vikund said. "Congratulations on your appointments," he smiled. "Very well," said Mandor. "I believe, Clytemnestra, that you wish to raise the issue of the Baroness Helgram? Might we ask why?" Chadwick, dressed in his formal attire, peaked into the room and noticed a seat available behind his mother. Quietly, he walked in and set himself down behind her. "I understand that Solitare is doing well with her arcane studies," Clytemnestra said. "I also understand that she's pursued these interests almost to the exclusion of all else. I've inquired about her infrequently, as you know... the Baroness made an impression when we first met." She allowed a small frown. "I think that Tear will suffer, if she keeps this up. She needs to learn deportment, charm, social skills, be seen and make acquaintances in the Court, things that have been left... lacking." She fixed her attention on a point far distant. "Through no fault of your own, of course... Father. It is simply past time that Tear learned these things. Not all problems can be fixed by magic." "And you believe you should become her instructress?" said Mandor. "Such a little pattern model of propriety she would turn out to be. Perhaps she might learn more from Larissa ... or from Morgan." He was smiling but his eyes were cold as he watched his daughter. Chadwick's eyes widened at the idea of Morgan teaching anyone. Whatever the man was, Chadwick was certain that a proper instructor was not in Morgan's portfolio. Who would be best, he wondered, to teach Tear simple social graces? "I confess, I don't see how this is a matter that concerns the Council," Larissa said acidly into the uncomfortable silence. "Perhaps I erred in bringing it up here," Cly said. "I thought input from all of you might solve what I saw to be a problem. She is, after all," her gaze switched to Mandor, "your protegee', Father." "And to be honest," Jurt commented as he cleaned his nails with the tip of a silver dagger, "Anyone of her ability *should* be a concern of this Council, but her social skills..." He shrugged and let his silence speak for itself. Chadwick grew even more concerned. As Mandor's protege, she would undoubtedly act in accordance with his dictates... what could the council be concerned about? He wasn't sure it was his place to speak, considering the company and that he was just... he was just himself. He had been invited, however. "I agree with my brother," said Merlin, sounding just a little surprised by this rare occurrence. "If Tear acquiring social graces is going to be of such pressing concern, I suggest a group of you get together and thrash it out between you. A subcommittee on the social education of the Baronness Helgram. Cly, I'm going to get you all excited and make you chair. Or spoke, if you prefer. Right. Next item." He swung to face Morgan. "You're on. Spill." Morgan sighed and sat a little bit straighter. "This would be easer if I could just get permission to kill anyone who tries to get me involved in politics without having to bring it to anyone's attention," he complained. "I'm afraid that won't do... housekeeping would object to the bodies, if nothing else," Damien replied dryly. Cly adopts an expression of faint distaste at the mention of 'kill' and 'bodies'. Otherwise, she stayed silent and listened. Chadwick's disapproval is even more obvious. Killing people was simply not something one does. He was sure Morgan was joking, of course, but it was a bad joke. "So perhaps you could be a little more explicit concerning this attempt to get you involved in politics which has inspired such murderous rage," said Mandor to Morgan. "What happened? Did one virtuous citizen too many ask you to shine a petition for more regular road cleaning? Or did you become aware of a campaign to limit the hours when alcohol could be served in public places?" Morgan ignored the odd expressions going on around the table. "There's this fellow," he said. "Names Lorenz, or Laurenz, or something like that. Nice looking fellow, holds himself well, the kind I would have had on my crew. Seen him around the palace off and on for the last twenty years or so, never for very long, just here and there for a couple of days, then he vanishes for several years. Like that. Over the last couple of months I've seen him more often, not just here but in the city, at a couple of bars, a few art galleries, even a booksellers I like to visit. We've had a few conversations, he knew some stories about my mother, what the city used to be like, that sort of thing." Morgan shrugged. "Politics came up now and then, like they do. I made it clear I don't give a stationary photon who's in charge, since it doesn't really matter one way or the other to the common people. We exchanged a few Mandor jokes, you know, like, 'Why does Mandor like to play with his balls in public?', and so on. No big deal. "Then he comes to me with this 'secret message' from Julian and Caine, that he wants passed on to Merlin. Says it could make all the difference about the future of Amber. I told him where he could stuff his message, and left." He looked at Merlin. "Then I started worrying about it. If he's a spy, then he's a danger, and I won't let Merl be exposed to that. So I told him. And then we, ah, had a discussion about what was the best thing to do." "If your friend's a spy, he's the worst I've ever heard of," Larissa snorted. "And there's no chance he works for Julian or Caine. Neither of them would allow that sort of incompetence." She paused, and smirked. "Not without an ulterior motive, anyway." "And does anyone have any suggestions as to what such an ulterior motive might be?" asked Mandor. He glanced around the table. "It may be that someone's interest was in you, rather than His Royal Highness," Damien said with a seated bow in Merlin's direction. "A test," he added. "Vikund - is anything known of this Lorenz?" "It's the first I've heard," Vikund said, "I'll make some enquiries." "Thank you," said Mandor. "Perhaps you'll keep me informed about the progress of those enquiries. Morgan ... can you tell us anything about the current ... ah ... disposition of this man?" Jurt smiled at Mandor's euphemisms. Morgan shrugged. "Like I said, I walked away from him. I'm not involved in any of this, other than being Merl's friend. If you want to sanction me to terminate, say so, and I'll do it, but only when I feel it's needed. Other than that, I only act in defense, or in a duel for cause. But this fellow gets into the palace somehow, and he's been around for years now, so he must be a functionary of some sort." He sat back and resumed looking at the stars on the roof. "And that's it for me," he announced to the painted heavens. The talk of killing people was a bit casual for Chadwick's tastes. The look of absolute horror on him was total. He looked, very slowly, to his mother. Flora was looking loftily superior to the whole tasteless discussion. Clytemnestra merely shook her head, looking as if she regarded the conversation as a necessary evil. "Killing him now would be like warding the aerie after the wyvern's already flown," Jurt offered. "Questioning him might, however, be interesting," said Mandor. "Watching him might be less fruitful - although interesting to see how long after this meeting he inexplicably takes flight and flees Amber." He glanced around the table with the faintest of smiles. Damien looked faintly amused by the various takes on the situation. "And perhaps we should move on to the economic forecasts Damien was referring to," said Flora. He nodded in response, stood, and tugged at the lace around his cuff. "Gold has a real and perceived value in each shadow, with some rough correlation to its availability and utility, as well as various sociological factors. This is of value to the Kingdom, as it helps to facilitate the intra-shadow trade that, in turn, generates wealth. We have instituted policies to minimize the local fluctuations in the value of gold to prevent rampant inflation or a commodities bubble. Larissa can provide details of the maths behind it, if you wish... at any level of detail requested," Damien said with a banker's smile. As he talked, he scanned the room, but apart from his initial adjustment of his sleeve did not fidget at all. Morgan continued to lean back in his chair. His eyes closed. "The management of the value is in no small way achieved by control of production and distribution," Vikund added. "This is one of the reasons why we need to be careful with the Kashfa situation. War will lead to retention of local gold reserves, resulting in the stifling of trade. Indeed, it may assist our enemies by making other materials the trading currency of choice, for example silver, platinum or even jewels." Larissa waved a hand dismissively. "Gold is only a finite resource in that we have *decided* it is to be one. Importing sufficient supply from Shadow to counterbalance any hoarding, while a non-trivial exercise, would hardly be a difficult one." Merlin was gazing at them with marked disfavour. "Three questions," he said. "Am I broke? Are we about to be invaded by ravening hordes? Are the populace on the point of bloody insurrection against my rule?" Clytemnestra raised an eyebrow. "I can't see any of that happening, your Majesty," she said. "All of that would require... an intelligent effort behind it." "One supposes that the rebels will never be a real threat then, will they?" Jurt mutters as he stands to procure himself a drink from the sideboard. Damien ignored the remark Jurt had made up his sleeve and replied, "Indeed. Our fiscal policy is designed so that neither your Majesty nor the rest of us go broke." "Excellent!" said Merlin. "I imagine that concludes the day's business then. Anyone want a drink?" Chadwick looked confused, wondering why the celebration... were all the problems solved? He was certain someone had said that nobody was 'going broke', and that was economic, and that made everyone happy. There were still, he felt, issues to address. Next time, he'd have to bring notes. Vikund glanced over at Mandor for confirmation the meeting was done, before gathering his things. He bowed to His Majesty and made for the exit. A flask appeared in Morgan's hand, and he passed it to Merlin without opening his eyes or moving from his reclining position. Merlin took it and tilted it to his lips. "And so... today, I become a diplomat," Clytemnestra said. Mandor looked at her coolly. "It's an area of your education that was seemingly overlooked. Acquiring those particular graces, albeit somewhat late, will doubtless prove useful." "Let's hit a bar," said Merlin, rising to his feet. "Preferably one that won't hit back. Coming, Rissa? Nessie? Damo? Chad?" "Thank you," said Flora. "Chadwick is dining with me and the Baslinn Ambassador this evening. The dinner you said you'd be unable to make because you felt a cold coming on, your Majesty." "That's why we're taking him out for medicine, Auntie Flo," Morgan said cheerfully, as he rose from his chair and took back his flask. He looked around the room and raised it questioningly. Damien nodded, belatedly, to Merlin and Morgan. Chadwick watched the discussion, unwilling to take a side... certain that his mother would win. "I would be delighted to discuss economic theory over drinks," Larissa said to Merlin, smiling lazily, eyes slitted. "If you'd like, Princess, I'd be willing to serve in my brother's stead," Jurt offered. "If nothing else, you set the finest table this side of The Queen." Flora regarded him coldly. "Thank you. Perhaps you should seek the hospitality offered there instead. Chadwick, come along. Clytemnestra, my dear, will you join me? Lord Mandor, I shall see you at dinner." "What a treat for the Baslinns," muttered Merlin. "Let's head for the docks."
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