The troll, apparantly named Karsk Horse-biter grins again, then transfers a few coins from the box, dropping them into the bag instead.

A piece of paper, printed with a series of words, appears from the bag, along with a large piece of charcoal.  A number is scrawled on the paper, below the printed text.  The figure, Morgan can see, matches the actual toll, excluding the tip.

"I not remember name of this thing.  It say that toll is paid."

The receipt is handed to Morgan, and the troll stands aside, indicating that the troop is free to pass.

"Toll makes no brig-gands on road since two years, so you not worry.  That way... three miles... you find rest place, with some food.  Food not cost money there."

"Thank you."  Morgan glanced at the token, and led his people off. He ignored the rest place. They'd just taken longer for food while he considered the toll than it would to pass the place.

The road leads away from the bridge, climbing higher through rain-soaked wooded hills.  A short distance on, the shelter stands, a roof of boards and turf, held up by sturdy posts, with a firepit at its centre and a large iron trunk which, as Morgan is informed, smells of bread and cheese.

Further, and the road continues to rise, and climbs above the treeline.

Ahead a range of mountains is clearly visible, starkly outlined against a dark, sullen sky filled with the promise of more rain.  Morgan's course continues north, towards those mountains, across a barren plateau dotted with strange ruins, interspersed with marsh-fringed pools and cairns of stones.

Onward the panthers move, the whole troop reunited now, and the hours slide by, until, just at sunset, they reach a monolithic pylon carved with images which, although all but erased by time, wind, and weather, still manage to give the impression of disturbing strangeness.  The ground rises then, off the plateau and into the line of peaks which mark the boundary, and the rain starts to hammer down again.

As torrents of water flow down the slope around them, Morgan's troop find themselves entering a notch in the mountains, all but invisible in the night, save when lightning flares overhead, and illuminates the way.

Hours pass, as does the storm, and by dawn, as they emerge on the northern face of the range, there is just a steady drizzle.  Ahead of them a lowland stretches out, heavily forested, to a distant mountain which stands on the shore of a restless ocean.  On that distant mountain's flank, there is a city visible, gleaming in the first light of morning.

The troop sweeps down the slope and into the trees... a land filled with birdsong, and the calls of strange animals.  And a human voice.

"Halt!  In the name of Prince Julian of Amber, who brings these beasts to Arden?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:23, Fri 07 Dec 2007.

Morgan calls a stop. It wasn't necessary, Leareth did the same a heartbeat sooner, but it was his job.

"Morgan Julian, by invitation!" He can't help but be cheered. They're in Arden! A hundred hundred books aren't enough to tell all the stories set here! That gleaming city, it must be Amber! Better, they are in a forest again, no vast empty land, no barren wasteland, but forest.

The dampness doesn't even deserve mention in comparison.

There is movement among the trees.  Even some in the trees, and within moments, Morgan finds that he is suddenly the focus of a dozen pairs of eyes.  Probably more, since there he has the distinct impression that there are many more that he can't see.

Perhaps significantly, every one of the pairs of eyes, at least the ones which are visible, is looking at him along the length of a loaded crossbow.

The men (and women... there are a few women, he can see now) are all wearing green clothing, with light mail shirts, and short cloaks, with hoods.  The cloaks are dark green.

One of the men speaks, and it is the same voice as before.

"Things have grown dangerous here, of late, the road through Arden is closed.  You have a choice.  Come with us to explain yourself to the Prince, or turn back.  Or die, of course, that option is always open."

At least he smiles as he offers the third choice, even if it does appear a little... forced.

"Interesting." Morgan answered. "I'd heard the land routes were recently re-opened.  But as it's him I wish to see, I'll make the obvious choice. Lead on."  He smiled, gesturing at the forest.

And we finally get to see the strain that spawned our nation. Honestly, Morgan wasn't sure if he was thinking of the war-dogs or the Prince. Such an impact, for less than a week's stay some centuries gone.

"Whether or not the roads are opened varies from day to day, just lately.  And depends on who asked, and where they were when they asked." the man replies, with a completely deadpan expression.

"This way."

With a gesture, he shows that Morgan should move off the trail, heading away into denser forest, very old growth, by the looks of it.  A short distance from the trail Morgan had been following, they push through what a wall of dense undergrowth, and Morgan finds that the ground drops steeply into a ditch, a clear road, like a sort of tunnel with a roof of leaves.  Dim greenish light filters through that roof.

The guide indicates that Morgan should turn to follow the hidden route, and progress is quicker.

Once, from nearby, comes the bellowing roar of something large, and the man raises a hand to call for a halt.  After a little while, when the noise is repeated further away, he seems to relax, "As I said, things have grown dangerous.  That one is moving away though."

An hour later, Morgan finds himself exiting the concealed path, and entering a campground, where ten, or so, tents stand in a clearing.  One of them is larger than the others.

There are a lot of troops about, at least a hundred in view at any one time, not including the ones who have escorted Morgan here, and there is a constant flow of traffic in and out of the area.  And yet the camp is eerily quiet.  Most of the troops seem to regard the panthers with interest, rather than concern.

In the centre of it all, in front of the larger tent, a man in white armour stands, in deep conversation with several others, as they study a map laid out on the table before them.

Morgan's guide asks him to wait, and moves across to report to the white-armoured man, who lifts his head to look straight at Morgan.  Blue eyes look out of a face framed by long dark hair.  Then he speaks quietly to the others around the map, who bow, and move away.

The guide returns.  "The Prince wishes to speak to you now."

And so it is that Morgan finds himself presented to Prince Julian of Amber... a man widely regarded with awe and reverence in Morgan's homeland.

"My scouts inform me that you brought an army, of sorts, into Arden, but you claim to be here by invitation.  As master of these woods, I'm curious...  Who are you, and who issued the invitation?"

"Shit." It about summed things up for Morgan. Thought he was invited to meet his legendary ancestor, and wasn't even recognized.  "Morgan Julian. I have two. Three? I thought one was from you, sir. Only man ever known to ride a horse," He stopped, wiping his hand along his face, trying to be composed as he dismounts. It felt wrong talking to him from on high.

His speech is rapid, a bit disjointed. The surprise and disappointment not wholly concealed.  "You know a James, though? Nephew of yours, was running around with the late Ms. Wolfblade, a small dragon with a large mind, and a woman named Cyan? Group's changed some, I'm one of the newer members.  For some reason, he thought a ship would be faster from Cadiniagart, though it only took us a day and a night, and it'll be six for him.  Anyway, the ship obviously couldn't hold us, so we're to meet in Amber. He thought it'd give me a chance to meet my ances..."

"Anyway, I suppose its still your invitation. And no army yet. Only forty eight left of the seventeenth royal babysitter."  He dodged Sarati's swipe at his habitual joke, "battallion and a quarter gone home. Though the others should be coming." The value of the idea of mentioning that bit of news bypassed the prince. Ordinarily it might not have, but he was still in something akin to shock.

"I've brought some current maps and news on the archons for you, as well."

Julian ponders Morgan's words, and seems to relax a little.  "In times like these, it pays to be careful." he offers, perhaps, by way of explanation.

"Three times in the last month, we've had large groups of creatures appear at the borders.  The first group we recognised - a mixed army of men and Sodhra that we'd heard were raiding some of our further neighbours.  I suppose they thought that, since we hadn't tried to stop them, then we must have become weak, and they decided to try their luck."

"The few that survived the fighting were probably hunted down by my hounds."

He pauses, for a moment, then continues, "The others two groups were unknown.  Certainly they weren't enemies we've faced before.  They were killed, or driven off anyway.  One lot weren't even remotely human."

Frowning, he looks around him, and beckons to one of his men, before turning back to Morgan, "Do you need food, or something to drink?"

"I could use a drink." Morgan admits. "If you'd tell me what isn't eligible for hunting, the panthers can feed themselves." He somehow doubts they'd have enough extra on hand for thirty hungry predators.


"I should warn you that fire archons are destroying towns, on their way here."

"As long as it isn't wearing a uniform, they can hunt it." Julian replies, then turns to signal one of the nearby men.  "Wine, for our guest."

A few moments later, Morgan has a wooden goblet in hand, containing a reasonable wine.

"Afraid that's the best we've got at the moment.  I'll be sending some men out to meet the supply train in the morning."

He regards Morgan with a slightly perplexed expression, "I'm sorry, I don't know who these Archons are.  That's twice that you've mentioned them, now.  Are they some new enemy we should be aware of?  Mercenaries in the employ of the Courts, or the like?"

Morgan blinks, surprised again, while the majority of his host disappear into the woods. "You could say that.  I'm sorry sire, I'd thought you better informed.

Archons are the race of the leaders of the armies marching on Amber. They're shaped like spinning wheels, and come in varieties of steel, lightning, and fire, as far as I've seen. They destabilize and conquer 'Shadows', I think you call them, and install some involved sorcery mechanism. The intent is to break a line from Chaos to Amber, and shatter everything. Some sort of philosophic argument.

Tactically, each seems capable. The steel ones are the weakest, and killing one is almost as dangerous as fighting it. Imagine fighting a dozen rapidly spinning and size changing swords bound together with razor wire that bleed white fire and explode when dying, and you'll have a fair idea. The lightning and fire ones can spit their element out, rain fire from the skies.

They have some sort of nullifier for the powers of Amber and Chaos, involving a long dead entity's body, if I understand it right, aside from their own magic and enormous armies of differing types. Their last mass attack... they blotted out the sky. Never mind the recruited armies."  He pauses, gauging whether he has conveyed the correct intensity.

"One of the fire archons destroyed a town roughly nine tenths the distance from here to Cadinagart less than a day ago. So sir, I think it fair to say that the souting is nearly done, and they'll be on your doorstep within the month.

That aside, they apparantly secured a traitor in the family who is going to plant a device in that power maze thing. James called it the Pattern? And if you aren't the one sending visions, then someone is better informed and using your image."

He finally stops, ticking off ideas in a mental register.  He hadn't gotten everything, but for a summary, it was good enough.

"Interesting.  The last contact I had with the agents we sent out was some time ago.  They didn't mention any of this then.  In fact I had only just assigned them to their mission.  This must all be information they've gathered since then." the prince replies, with a slow shake of his head.

"If any of my relatives have recieved this news, they certainly didn't let me know about it."

He ponders Morgan's description of the Archons, and his expression falls, "A flying enemy, in great numbers, and capable of dropping fire from the sky, and of negating any defensive use of the Pattern?"

Turning, he indicates two of his men, "You two, find as many officers as you can, tell them I need to see them, urgently."

Only once they have gone in search of the officers does Julian face Morgan again, and gestures towards the forest, "Take a good look around you, Morgan.  I suspect that Arden will not remain as it is for very much longer.

In the distance, there are several troops hurrying towards Morgan and Julian.  Some are still pulling on armour, or buckling on weapon belts...

"Essentially, "  Morgan's answer came soberly, as he scanned the woods about them, "The nullifier might cover less ground, closer to your source of power. We, well, I sent for reinforcements; if they believe, your other descendants will be coming in numbers. They might have the information to include firefighting beasts. James is coming with some allies. Five days left by sea, if they guessed correctly. "

He grimaces, "He knows more.. all than I do, and is better at expressing it besides. Why people travel on something so slow as a boat..." He shakes himself.

"One thing which might go in our favour... " Julian muses, as he considers Morgan's words, "We've had a lot of rain lately.  I've had to put up with a few complaints from the less experienced officers, about how they're always wet through.  All that water could turn out to be a very good thing."  He looks at one of the approaching officers, and says, "Hear that, Marcus?  All the rain might be a good thing."

The man spoken too gives the prince a sour look, then glowers up at the sky.  Julian, meanwhile, returns his attention to Morgan...

"I'll keep patrols out, watching for any reinforcements your people send, and I'm sure that James and the others can provide enough information for Random, Bleys, and the rest, to be able to help out."

"We might be forced to sacrifice part of Arden, in order to save the rest of it.  But I'll hold that as a last resort.  I plan on keeping it all, if I can."

As he speaks, more officers are gathering.

"I suppose I should send a messenger to the palace though, just in case something happens to prevent James, Jonnee, and the rest, getting through."

Morgan nods, but does not interrupt his ancestor's musings. Instead, he gets out his copy of the travelogue cum map, and sips his drink.

Julian gathers his officers around the table and starts relaying Morgan's information to them, indicating locations on his own maps of Arden, and ordering troop movements.  Patrols are increased, and sent further out.  Camps are shifted, so that forces will be spread out more.  After all, with a flying enemy, there is little sense in concentrating troops around the land routes through the forest.

Finally, after an hour, or so, of quiet discussion, the officers start to disperse, taking their orders back to the units they command.

Julian stands alone for a while, his head bowed, then finally shakes himself, and turns his attention back to Morgan.

"Of course, all that planning might be in vain.  If they can fly, they might head straight for the city itself, and ignore us."

Thinking through his options, Julian occasionally asks Morgan for information concerning the Archons, their numbers and capabilities, any allies they may have, and other details which may prove important in the near future.  Morgan, for his part, answers the questions as best he can...

Finally Julian seems to come to a decision.

"Those cats of yours seem fast and intelligent.  So far I've been watching the roads and trails through Arden, but with an enemy which can fly, that's not really a workable strategy."

"What I need you to do is send the cats out to act as scouts.  Have them spread out across the ground, with orders to watch for intruders, and report any that they see to the nearest unit of Rangers."

He fixes his gaze on Morgan's face.  "Are they capable of that, reliably?"

Morgan nods, a smile forming at the request. "That, easily. They can even spot your rangers, though there's the worry of teaching your men enough of the language to understand how many and kind. Continually, about seven to fourteen can be on patrol, keeping a thousand or so miles of border under control each."

He considers, then adds, "That varies if you need sweeps more than twice in a day."

"The language could be a problem, that's true.  But we have a problem with... with our usual method of communication over long distances.  If they can learn a few words, that would do."

The prince studies the maps, running a fingertip along what appears to be a river, "I'll take whatever help you can give.  Thank you.  With your cats patrolling the borders, then I can keep my forces back a little way, in positions where they can react quickly, moving to any location where the enemy is reported."

"Now I just need to think of a way to engage an enemy that doesn't actually need to  come within reach of the weapons I have available."

A rueful smile, and then Julian continues, "Will they work on their own?  If I give you a message to deliver to Amber, to my siblings, describing the threat, and requesting assistance with the development of a way to fight these things, would your scouts be able to work while you were away?"

"In case your friends don't make it to the city."

"If I ask them to, yes." Morgan agrees. "Ordinarily, they each have a partner... but that is to make conversation and things like opening doors easier. Though as I can see the city from here, I don't know that the trip would take o'erlong."

"I imagine they might take a while to get there, anyway." He nods, at the last comment. "I still can not understand why they would go by boat."

"One of my brothers is the same... swears that ships are the finest way to travel." Julian replies, with a faint smile which fades as quickly as it appeared, and is replaced by a worried frown, "Rather, he does if he still lives.  It's been some time since we last saw each other."

"I hope your companions do make it through, but things have changed in the last little while.  The situation is a lot less certain than it used to be."

The prince of Amber grows thoughtful, for a moment, then shakes himself out of it.  "No matter.  The situation is what it is.  We cope, or we fall.  I'll start work on the message, immediately, if you'd like to instruct your forces."

It takes a second, more processing than dissent, but Morgan bows his head in agreement. "I'll do that." As they left, he began conversing with Leareth. The old creature was far better suited to organize this than him, and they all knew it.

Morgan issues his instructions to Leareth, who passes them on to the others, and a short while later the wanderer finds himself standing before Julian once more.

"Here is the message I want you to deliver, and this one will get you past the guard posts." the prince hands Morgan the two documents, before continuing, "When you reach the city itself, ask the first military officer you see, wearing the Unicorn of Amber, for directions to the Low Gate, and show him the second message.  The Low Gate is the quickest way into the right part of the Palace."

"Once you get to the Low Gate, show the message again, and tell the guards that you have urgent information for King Random.  Ask for an escort... it'll make your trip through my family home a little more direct."

Julian pauses then, thinking for a moment, "The important thing is that you don't show the other message to anybody except Random, and don't tell anybody, other than him, what information you have."

"Do you have any questions?"