The area immediately at the bottom of the stairs was simply a small cavern with a guard station.

Sets of keys hang on several hooks on the wall. Beside them hang more lanterns...

A young woman wearing silver and green clothing is talking to a guy who obviously seems to be a guard (in brown and gray).

"...on some other adventure, or perhaps down in the city..." she's saying to the guard, as Lance and his mother arrive at the foot of the stairs...

---

"...on some other adventure, or perhaps down in the city..." Ballad says, just as a fantastically-striking blonde woman emerges from the nearby stairwell with a lantern of her own. Right behind her is a guy of about 30 or so, wearing jeans, a red t-shirt with a red and gold flannel over it, work boots, and a leather backpack. He's wearing a sword and dagger at his belt, too, Ballad notices...

  "...wow, that's a bit of a hike down..."  the man stops mid-sentence, seeing that they've reached the bottom and now had company.

  "Oh, hello there.  Hope we're not interrupting?" he asks pleasantly, addressing both the young woman and the guard.  He has an easy, husky kind of voice.

https://www.bing.com/images/se...dex=3&ajaxhist=0
This message was last edited by the player at 03:18, Thu 28 May 2020.

The young woman at the bottom of the stairs chatting with a guard, lantern held casually in one hand, Ballad is — dressed in graceful (borrowed) silvery tunic, dramatically flared at the hips; a black belt, and black boots, and forest green britches (leggings?). Her silvery-gold hair is braided and pinned with combs of some black stone or black pearl, she’s wearing a necklace of stone and silver; quite elphin, except there’s a liveliness — a readiness, see, to be wholly in the moment — not usually associated with the starlight she's probably related to.

She turns to meet the pair who come down the stairs, curiously. And Ballad’s eyes widen because they are the most beautiful people she has ever seen in person, dear Unicorn, what what what, maybe they'll just stand still for a moment, eh? One of them she knows for Flora (from her Dad’s cards or from reputation), and the other must be one of Flora’s children mentioned by her uncle earlier.

Cue: the flash of a smile, lopsided and dazzle-bright. Gallant! "How could you interrupt when it's such a pleasure to be surprised by you? You must be my Aunt Flora! How do you do? Uncle Random said you were looking after one of your children, so you" (and here she's obviously addressing Lance again instead of Flora as before) "must be...?" Ballad sounds really very warm.

Gods, they're pretty.

  "Um, uh...Lance, I'm Lance." the man stammers, then recovers with a big genuine smile, "Flora was just giving me the grand tour." <i> Gods, she's beautiful too!  Wait, did she just say Aunt Flora?  Wait, that means she's...a cousin?  Damn!  Are all the beautiful women I meet related to me??!!</i>

  "And what is your name, or do angels not have them?"  Lance asks, taking a half step closer, hoping to catch the scent of his cousin's perfume.  He imagines it's something wonderful.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:46, Thu 28 May 2020.

If Lance imagined the romance of vaguely herbaceous soap and lantern smoke, then he imagined aright, as far as 'scent' goes.

Ballad laughs at that line. Easygoing, goodnatured. There’s a sharp dimple in one cheek. “Suppose it depends on which angels in what shadow. But I'm Ballad verch Julian by Yvaine, Princess of Arden and Amber, at your service.”

  "Ballad.  That's a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.  Quite fitting for a princess.  I'm quite new to Amber, and know not what Arden is, but indeed it is I who is at your service, Princess."

  Lance reaches out, takes Ballads hand gently (if she allows it), bows deeply and kisses the back of her hand softly before rising.

  "Flora was just about to show me something amazing and awe inspiring down here, but I imagine it will now seem eclipsed, having met you, Princess."

Flora looks mildly amused.

The guard looks a little crushed, probably thinking Ah, right then, there goes any chances I might have remotely dreamed I had there... Back to reality... Or rather, back to lonely daydreams...

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting—a couple of extroverts!

Ballad does allow Lance to take her hand; studious, when he kisses it, because this must be the custom of his shadow. Ballad is usually adept enough at brazening through. Confidence! Self-assurance! A will to take pleasure in a moment! He's pretty enough he's welcome ot keep her hand, too. The laughter stays in her eyes.

“You are charming. Why, I do endeavor to inspire more awe than a dungeon cell,” Ballad says, with every appearance of sincerity; she is, however, teasing. ‘Amazing’ and ‘awe inspiring’ is certainly (probably) the Pattern Room. “Just ‘Ballad,’ if you please, Lance. Are you going back into shadow once your tour is complete?"

A gesture, indicating his backpack. Ballad is ready to, at a moment's notice, rope Trent and Flora properly into the conversation. Extroversion!

  Lance smiles.  "And you succeed, Ballad.  Oh, the backpack.  Just a few things I brought with me.  We really just arrived, within the hour.  I wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon, and even less so now.  Too much to see and learn here!  I mean, this place is magnificent!  Secret stairwells. beautiful princesses, hard working castle guards, and a real dungeon!!  I mean, I've only seen a fraction of what there is to see here, and it's all been amazing so far.  Oh, and speaking of hard working guards, you haven't introduced your friend here."

  My gods, she's adorable.  Cousin though...damn!  Wait, who is Julian, and who are his full siblings?

  He extends his hand to shake with the guard.  "Who might you be, good sir?"

"I am the guard posted down here. My name is Trent, m'lord," the fellow says glumly.

How people were standing: Ballad and Trent; Lance and Flora. Lance took Ballad’s hand, now holds his out to Trent; Ballad—who really seems fairly happy, energized by the crush of people—shifts so she is standing nearer the stairs and her aunt, also allowing Flora and Lance better access to the guard and what he’s guarding. Her lantern is a halo.

“He is very helpful, and a knowledgable guide,” Ballad says, throwing Trent some good word-of-mouth.

But to Flora (or Lance! Truly, Ballad is an everybody-jump-in conversationalist) she says--openly curious--"Are you just showing him the, er, thing the family keeps in the basement which is awe inspiring and amazing," (if "the Pattern" is a surprise, Ballad's not ruining it for anything) "or does he mean to assay it now?"

"Just a preview," says Flora. "He's a little tired to take a try at it right now... but I thought that as long as we were on a tour anyway, that I would show him what it is that's so important... since when we're ready to leave, I can use Random's card to pull us back upstairs once more, so we don't have to go back up all those stairs again... You're invited on that offer of skipping-stairs too, dear," Flora makes clear to Ballad.

  Lance chuckles.  "Well, to be fair it's not every day that you have some grey skinned alien try to gut you for no apparent reason, so today is just sightseeing.  Tomorrow is to be the real test.  So Ballad, if you'd care to join us, I'd be overjoyed.  Trent, if your duties allow, I'm sure your guidance would be welcome as well."

"My duties allow, m'lord."

Flora heads off down the tunnel.

Various other tunnels are passed, but the group of four moves in pretty much a straight line... until they reach a great, dark, metal-bound door.

From a pocket, Flora produces a key. "All of us in my generation were given our own key to this door," she tells Lance. "I don't have a spare... I'll see about getting you one..."

She unlocks the door. Opens it... and extinguishes the lantern she carries. Trent extinguishes his, as well.

The glow within this chamber is from the Pattern itself. When eyes adjust, you see it in the center of the room. It appears as a shining, shimmering mass of curved lines, inscribed into the stone floor, lines that fool the eye as it tries to trace them.

https://img00.deviantart.net/3...darkmane-d4yxb4l.jpg

https://vignette.wikia.nocooki...st?cb=20100806021454

https://img00.deviantart.net/3...r_by_crimsongear.png

https://i.pinimg.com/736x/f9/7...-ambre-labyrinth.jpg



"To a Amberite non-royal, the lines are almost blinding," says Flora. Indeed, Trent is shielding his eyes. "To anyone not of Amber, they are not only bright, but hypnotic, as well. This room is not for casual visitors."

The Pattern begins in the far corner. "From there," says Flora, pointing, "the walker places one foot down carefully after the other, until-- after expending great physical, and emotional energy-- the Pattern’s center is reached. Upon reaching the center, the walker, by an act of will, can go, instantly, to any desired location-- upstairs, to the castle, or to the docks, or to anywhere on Earth, or to any of the Golden Circle kingdoms, or to any other Shadow-- anywhere. But only those whose veins bear the blood of Amber may walk the Pattern and live."

"After completing the Pattern for the first time," she sighs, "one may be taught to walk-- or ride-- between Shadows on one's own..."

Who’s Ballad to say her aunt and cousin nay? Ballad is as curious and interested in the walk this second, less meandery time as she was the first time, and she occasionally touches a wall, peeks down at a tunnel, marking steps in her head.

She sets her lantern down just outside the door, so there's a beacon of light in the tunnel beyond the eerie glow coming from the open Pattern Room. She does stare at the Pattern, too, tracing its curves with her eyes.

"It seems an awful lot of effort to project yourself just upstairs, unless you mean to be dastardly," Ballad says, with the quick flash of a smile.

Ballad is a lady of action so further into the room she goes! She means to get perilous close to the design. The leisure to study it is novel; Ballad means to enjoy it, although she is also curious (she is always curious) about Lance's reaction, so attempts to divide her attention a little.

"Hello, Pattern," says she, quietly and privately, just Ballad and the Pattern. "Long time since we were last intimate."

Circle, circle. Ballad peers at the ceiling above the Pattern--does it have a ghost Pattern, burned into stone?--and pokes here and there before drawing close to Flora, Lance, and Trent again.

"What do you think, Lance? What adventure do you want to find first, once you walk through Shadow?"

  It's a solid minute of staring slack-jawed in wonder before Lance exclaims "Whoa.....that... is...soooo...cool!"

  Lance stares at it in wonder, trying to take it all in.  Then begin the questions.  "So do you follow the line, or cut across them?  What makes it light up like that?  How does it work?  Do you have to know where you want to go for it to send you someplace?  Is it like an astral projection kind of thing where you go but your body stays here?  How did it get here?  Who made it?  Is it magic, or science?  Can I touch it?"


  When Ballad asks him what adventures he wants to find, he shrugs.  "I really don't know.  I mean, every day is an adventure, isn't it?  Every person you meet, every place you go has the potential to be something incredible.  Have you walked it?  Where did it take you?"

"You definitely follow the line," said Flora. "As for the rest: Magic, magic, you have to know the sort of place you want to go for it to send you somewhere... with the exception of Coral, who trustingly told the Pattern to send her anywhere it wanted her to be... I advise you not to do that. It's not like astral projection-- you go somewhere else, body, mind, and all. Dworkin drew the Pattern. It's magic, as far as I know. Don't touch it."

Ballad sounds wistful. “Yes, I have. And as I stood at its center, exhausted but happy—you feel it in your marrow, you know, in your bones and your heart—I had just come from a tempting conversation with a, hm, a stranger who seemed to know me well, although I did not know them. They described where we met and things I was very curious about, so that description was in my mind." Ballad claps her hands together. "Ahoy, strange Shadow!"

Even just in this truncated retelling, there's this sense of Ballad: quicksilver impulsivity, measured recklessness. "It was fortunate Dad gave me a rigorous primer on the basics before I walked, else I might have been thoroughly lost. We both expected me back in Arden.”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:41, Thu 04 June 2020.

  Lance walks around, looking at the Pattern from various angles, not getting too close.

  "I know not where I'd go, for I haven't been many places.  Just the journey here, and the world where I grew up in, but I'm not sure I'd know how to find my way back from there....and there is so much here yet to explore, so much wonder....so much beauty."  With the last he turns and gazes back from where he stands that he can see both Ballad and Flora.

  "So much beauty." he whispers to himself a second time.

  Lance turns back and regards the Pattern once again, walking around it farther, towards the far side where it begins.  He touches the spot where the grey man had stabbed him.  It was a little sore, but nothing that wouldn't heal with a good night's rest.  From the way that Flora had described it, walking the Pattern was an extreme test, one which he had best be fully prepared for.

  He stands tempted, but finally continues his walk around, back to where the others are.

  "Tomorrow, after a hearty dinner this evening, a good night, and breakfast in the morning, I will do this thing."

"Well then," says Flora. "Anything else? Other questions? If not, shall we head back up upstairs...?"

  Lance shakes his head, and walks back to Flora.  "No other questions for now, although I may think of some by tomorrow.  Ballad, are you coming with, or are you taking the long way up?"  He extends his hand in invitation to his newly met, fabulous cousin.

Flora, too, looks at Ballad, perhaps interested to see if Ballad will have any questions, or mention anything else down at this level worth discussing.

Lance’s response to the Pattern has chased away the wistfulness; replaced it with an air of Taking Pleasure and Gladness, because she finds the dramatic declaration pleasing, the conjuration of ‘beauty’ pleasing, and Ballad seems to wear her feelings on her sleeve.

No questions for Flora about the Pattern.

"Of course I shall come with you! I don't want to see you vanish into air and brightness so soon after we've just met." Ballad: gracious. She gives Trent a fare-thee-well waggle of fingers, earlier statement about adventure and city still standing.

And so, all ready to go! If it's hand by hand by hand then of course Ballad will take Lance's with a mischievous side-look once Flora gets things started.

Flora takes the card she'd shown Lance earlier out of a pocket, and she looks at it. "...Random? I took Lance down to see the Pattern. I thought he had a right to see what he'd be up against, ahead of time. Do me a favor and pull us back up? I'd do it for you..." she coos.

Apparently the answer is yes, because she reaches out for Lance's hand. "Oh, and niece Ballad was here, too. Pull us all to you, please...?"

Hands are joined, and there is a shimmer, and the light becomes brighter, and everyone (but Trent) is in a hallway just outside the library. "The guard will replace the lanterns we took down," Flora says idly.

"What did you think of the Pattern?" Random asks Lance.

  Lance upon seeing Random once again takes a knee, and still holding Ballads hand answers, “Well, it’s pretty inspiring, and a little bit frightening.  Where I grew up, Magic was just slight of hand, smoke and mirrors, special effects.  This...this is real, and potentially lethal, and beautiful.  It represents our family.  It commands awe, and respect, and it’s the biggest challenge of my life.  I suspect that after tomorrow I’ll understand it a little bit more, but never entirely.”

  Somewhere he registers that he’s talking as much about his newfound family as much as he is Amber and the Pattern.  Interesting.

  He gives Ballad’s hand a slight squeeze.  His hand is warm, perhaps a touch sweaty.

  “Like all else here, it’s beauty is beyond measure, and certainly my words could never express it adequately though I might try for the rest of my life to do so.  There’s so much that I want to see and explore and learn about.   I believe I’ll need someone to help guide me for a while so that I don’t miss anything.”

At that, Flora glances at Lance, at where he's still holding Ballad's hand, then glances at Random.

Random seems to be thinking something similar, though neither of them says anything as such...

Ballad is very still as she acclimates to Here (hallway outside the--library, is it?) instead of There (the eldritch brightness of the Pattern and the gloom of the dungeons). Lance going immediately to his knee, still holding her hand, causes her to glance at him with bemusement, then look all curious and bright-eyed from Lance to Random to see how her uncle takes this. Does he like it? Seem to notice it at all?

Ballad does not follow suit. Only, when Random looks at her, gives her uncle a sunshine-y spark of a lopsided smile, and quirks an eyebrow if he still hasn’t told Lance to rise. She squeezes Lance’s hand back (supportive!), then extricates her hand.

Were those significant glances getting shared? Ballad is not an oracle of significant glances.

However, she says with an air of Dashing Aplomb: "How dare you, Lance! And me, standing right here. Say 'want' rather than 'need' and you're welcome to join me. I was on my way to the city when you two wandered into my path. Or, should it please Princess Florimel and Uncle Random, I could play guide tomorrow."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:49, Sun 07 June 2020.

  Surprised by Ballad's response, Lance takes a few seconds before replying.

  "Of course, cousin, you are correct.  Need is perhaps the wrong word.  I've spent a lot of time travelling on my own over the last thirteen years, seen some wonderful and amazing sights, but without anyone to share them with they tend to have less luster and magic about them.  It's like having marvelous photographs without anyone to show them to.  So yes, I want very much to share the beauty and splendor of this place with someone, and if you'd be so inclined I would be very much honored.  If you choose not to, I will find my way around.  I might get lost or miss seeing something amazing, but I will somehow find my way."

Ballad listens to Lance and it is true that she does not quite manage to be solemn; still, she is attentive. So yes, he says, I want, and she beams. "It will be my pleasure, Lance."

If Lance is still on his knee, Ballad offers her hand again to help him up. "Although I will warn you that, though I may play guide, the emphasis is on 'play.' I haven't spent very much time in Amber at all."

  Taking Ballads proferred hand he rises, smiling at her as he does.  Perhaps there is a hint of a blush in his cheeks.

  "I don't suppose there is a spare room in the castle where I might put my bag and perhaps change into something a bit more fashionable before we venture about?" he asks, looking at the three of them, not sure who will answer.  He adds with a chuckle, "Unless I need to find a room at an inn or make a bed in the stable, or something.  I don't want to be any trouble."

Random seems to think that Lance's behavior is... cute. Endearing, even. A bit unnecessary, but it's certainly not displeasing him.




"Certainly we can provide you with a guest room," says Random, "I should have mentioned it before. Ballad has her own guest room, as well. You're both family."

“I will wait on you in the main hall, Lance,” Ballad declares, definitively, and she gives his hand another squeeze--this will be fun!--before dropping it. This much is clear to all: Ballad likes to be in motion. And although she doesn't seem particularly subtle, there's a certain quicksilver grace to how thoroughly she tries to get everybody else moving too.

“Aunt Flora, won’t you come with us? Everybody speaks highly of your taste and your way with a merchant’s heart. And Uncle Random, I hope you don’t feel left out—you know I’d enjoy more of your company. When was the last time you came down from the castle?”

"I feel I must decline, Ballad," says the king, "though thank you for the offer."

"I shall come, since you invited me," says Flora. "I'll meet you at the main gate... unless you wish to come with me to my quarters, Ballad? I can loan you a little jewelry or other accessories, if you wish..."

Random gestures a passing servant over, and soon Lance is being led to a simple but nice guest room...

Ballad gives Random a Very Tragic Look (although it is clearly at least half-a-joke), placing a hand over her heart. “Later, then. At dinner with the Queen?”

And unless Random stops her or otherwise indicates it would be unwelcome, Ballad—affectionate—bounds over for a hug before turning to, unless Flora indicates unwillingness, link her arm with Flora’s all inviting. Julian's daughter is physically affectionate; she waves to Lance, but they'll soon be jaunting down the mountain.

“Why, thank you Aunt for your exceedingly kind offer. I accept. What should I call you? Princess? Auntie? Aunt Flora? Florimel?"

"Call me Flora, dear," says Flora.

The two of them go upstairs one floor, and Flora unlocks a door and leads Ballad in.

"Except for the king’s chambers, this is the largest of the royal apartments, and unlike the
others it was designed especially by the inhabitant, me. The most recent construction in the castle, it was finished during the turmoil of the Interregnum. I guessed, quite rightly, that no one was going to notice.

The entrance sets the tone for the decor that extends throughout. The furniture is from Lance's Shadow, from a country called France, a few hundred years ago. The portrait hanging on the far wall was commissioned by the emperor of himself as a gift for me.

The sitting room leads to my favorite room in the entire palace. It gives me a
place where I can stretch out and be entirely myself. The tall plants in the corner are full, quickly-growing specimens from Eregnor..."

There are many portraits of men along the walls... But two other items quite naturally attract attention. The first is a stunningly lovely gold harp that stands toward the west side of the room. The other is a stuffed and mounted white horse.

Flora leads Ballad on to the bedroom... The bright red canopied bed occupies the center of the northern wall, its sheets of red satin.

On the vanity are two exceptional pieces of artisanship: a diamond necklace, and a golden bejeweled egg...

"Oh, but first, I must show you the view..." says Flora...

Back through the large room to the doors in the southern wall-- these doors lead to a large, semi-circular balcony that overlooks the city of Amber. Plants line the walls and stand on either side of a round table and round chairs... "Often at night I've sat at this table, a glass of brandy in my hand, and think of the romance that my life has been... Here, come and gaze out over the city..."

"Even at night, however, and even from this distance, the city sparkles from the lights
in the phosphorescent globes that light the streets... From my balcony it is quite beautiful, as all my visitors have been known to say... Bah. Lance should see this. I'll send a servant to bring him here when he's otherwise ready," says Flora, and she heads to the hallway to attend to that errand...

“You must be very fond of your son’s Shadow,” Ballad remarks, as Flora explains the province of many of the objects. "What was Lance like as a child?" She is interested in the portraits of men (only men?) along the walls, studying this one or that one as they strike her. “Who is this?” she asks, of one. “What about this?” of another. And, "He has dreamy eyes." And, "He looks quite inflexible."

Ballad is studious. Although she tends to be a tactile person, she keeps her hands to herself. Mostly. Her fingers twitch toward the harp's strings--generally prefers loud instruments, brass horns and drums, but the harp holds a special place in her heart, and it is part of her personal sigil—and she looks as if she is going to pick up the bejewelled egg before Flora calls her away to the view.

She does take pains to look for any sign that Flora might be connected more closely to the gray men than seems apparent. Ballad is a friendly, happy-go-lucky, vivacious young woman, ready to be passionately pleased by all her relations. She is also highly suspicious.

But she comes and gazes out over the city, resting her palms on the balcony's ledge and leaning as if she wasn't only 99.1% sure Flora didn't mean to push her to her death. It is a view to enchant, and Ballad is thoughtful and quiet. A lovely beacon of brightness, there on Flora's balcony.

She does lean rather recklessly over the balcony's ledge, gauging interesting places to climb from it. Could she get to the rooftop? How difficult would it be?

In reply to Flora (msg # 34):

  Lance allows himself to be led off by the servant, only after bowing to his Uncle, Mother and Cousin.

  The room is nice, spacious, well appointed.  Lance thanks the servant and changes quickly into his renn-fair outfit of red celtic style tunic with gold trim, mustard-gold trews with the brown knee-high boots and billowy red gold-trimmed cape, attached at the shoulders by two large ornate brass rondel pins.  He checks his look in the full-length mirror, runs his fingers through his hair, then buckles on his belt with his sword and dagger.  Satisfied, he finishes surveying the room.  There is an adjoining dressing room and a comfortable looking bronze bathtub.  He finds where the chamber pot is stashed, and wrinkles his nose.  That would take some getting used to.

  Before long, there is a knocking at the door.  He finds another servant there, to lead him to Princess Florimel's Chamber.  Lance thanks the servant, and follows along, trying to memorize the way as he goes.

"Oh, absolutely. It's my favorite Shadow of all, not counting Amber.'




Flora is suddenly stricken. "I... don't know, really. I had him adopted. It was... I was afraid for him. It was for his own protection. He never saw me, before this week... I... Do you know the story of Martin, Ballad...?"




"Don't do that, dear, that's a good girl..."

It is not possible for Ballad to climb to the top of the castle from here. If she had some specialized climbing equipment? Then mmmmmaybe?




Soon, Lance is at the door to Flora's chambers...

“The Story of Martin?” Ballad echoes. She’s curious to hear what Flora will say about her cousin. One never knows what has been left out.

She does not, perhaps, react immediately to Don't do that, dear, there's a good girl--don't do what? She glances quizzically over her shoulder, still quite reckless, before she comes back to more solid ground.

"I mean about Brand's attack on Martin, decades ago..." Flora looks a little skeptical at the notion that Ballad hasn't heard of what Flora's referring to...

“Oh. Yes, I know that Brand did Martin injury,” Ballad replies. Easygoing and unrepentant in the face of skepticism. "You were concerned something like that would happen again?" She looks more serious than Flora has yet seen her niece.

  Lance thanks the servant who showed him the way before politely knocking on the door.  Servants.  That would take some getting used to.  He was looking forward to the rest of the day.  Seeing how his mother decorated her room would give him more insight to her tastes, and the day of shopping and seeing the sights with her and Ballad was going to be amazing.  He had never had family, so it is all quite new.  Even more exhilarating, his mother, such a study in elegance....and Ballad, so...alive....so making him wish that they somehow weren't actually related by blood.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:52, Wed 10 June 2020.

"Yes. Very much so. A number of us who had children after that happened were quite concerned. I had... special reasons to fear it. ...Until these recent attacks of the gray men, when I decided that continued ignorance of his heritage would just be leaving him in increasingly-greater danger."




Lance continues to gather his thoughts before knocking on the door that stands before him...

  Ballad.  Lance couldn't get his cousin out of his thoughts.  So lovely, so lively...just a spirit so...so exuberant!  And beautiful!  Stop it Lance, she's your cousin for God's sakes!  Half cousin, actually.

   Flora had described Amber as being similar to the Middle Ages in Earth.  In the middle ages, there were often marriages between cousins.  Of course, if a bloodline ran too closely, there could be bad implications if there were any children.

  Lance shook his head.

  That was assuming a lot.....that Ballad would even be remotely interested in him as anything more than a cousin, that even if she did feel that way about him that such a thing wouldn't be considered a sin, or against the law, or just plain forbidden.  Gods, what was he thinking?  Surely she had flocks of suitors that weren't compromised by blood relation.  She might already even be married, or betrothed, or handfasted, or whatever the custom here was.  He hadn't noticed a ring though.

  Get it out of your head, Lance.  She is your cousin.  How would she feel if she knew that you were thinking of her as anything other than that?

:::sigh:::

Lance takes a deep breath, straightens himself up and knocks on the doors to Flora's Suite.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:05, Thu 11 June 2020.

Flora hears the knock at the door of her chambers. She very visibly puts on a wrong-what-could-possibly-be-wrong-or-disturbing-how-silly-of-you-to-say-so face, and then swooshes to the door and opens it. "Lance, good! Come and look at the view from the balcony with us...!" She leads Lance to the balcony...

"The city is divided into two primary sections: the eastern portion is mostly residential, while the western section is predominantly commercial. All the standard professions of Earth of the early Renaissance can be found there: carpenters, fishers, milliners, clothiers, stone-masons, brick-makers, and artists and craftsmen, to name but a few.

Shopkeepers live above their shops, and hostels of various kinds keep the poor off the streets-- despite its relative wealth, Amber has its inevitable share of poverty...

Temples exist in the city, too, but for the most part they are found in the countryside. The Unicorn has never been seen in the city itself, and these sightings determine where most of the temples are located...

Well! Shall we go and explore the city ourselves...?"

  Lance enters and allows Flora to lead him to the balcony to share the view with herself and Ballad.  It's all he can do to not look like a big blonde bobble-head as he takes it all in.  Flora's room, the view, Flora herself, and of course his lovely cousin.

  "Whoa....." Lance is at a loss for words, in fact it takes him a moment to remember to breathe.  He had heard of views as being breathtaking, but this truly was.  All the more so because he wasn't just seeing it by himself.

  "...so damn beautiful."

  Without even thinking about it he reaches out to take both of their hands, wanting the connection of the moment of the company and the magnificent view.

  "This is going to be amazing!" he says with a huge grin

Ballad turns toward Flora and leans forward (intent), about to ask a question (or three or ten)—"Special reasons?"—when there’s the knock knock on the door and Flora’s face changes and she swooshes away. Damn. Ballad smiles at herself, rueful, and leans against the balcony's rail again, gazing out as she listens to Flora with Lance coming back down the hall and past the bedroom. Flora sounds like she's in full tour guide mode.




Ballad is ready to be charming and charmed, so Lance's unaffected pleasure in the view draws another dazzle-bright grin from Ballad, as she straightens to greet him (and to get going. Always moving!). "I suspect this probably is one of the most unique views of the city. It's certainly a new perspective for me."

Aw. He wants to hold hands again? Ballad doesn't stop him. This must be what people from Lance's shadow do and, anyway, she understands what it is to be so moved it spills over into wanting other people.

"Yes, let's us sally forth."

  Lance takes in the moment, savoring it.  He smiles even bigger, if such a thing is possible when Ballad allows him to take her hand.  The view, the company, the sheer joy of experiencing Amber.  Almost hesitantly he tears himself away from the view, commenting how magnificent the sunset must be and how he's never seen a city so beautiful.

  As the trio passes back through Flora's room with all the portraits he slows down to look at them, wondering...

  "Is one of these of...well...you know...him?" he asks, a bit hesitantly.

  If these were portraits of the men that had been important to Flora, perhaps one of them was of his father.

"No, Lance... I haven't updated the decor in here for over a century. I've been focusing on decorating my Earth homes. I'll show you a picture of your father soon, if you want... I have some in upstate New York."

Ballad courteously wanders away from the mother and son as they discuss, well, what sounds rather delicate. She's not so courteous she's out of earshot, but the illusion is there!

Besides, plenty of other things to look at.

  "That'd be nice, if it's not too painful a memory or too much trouble.  I know I'll never meet him, but now that I'm finding my roots I suppose I should find out what I can eventually.  That's for another time though.  Today's a more festive occasion.  Let us go see what wonders the city holds!  After all, it isn't every day you have a thirtieth birthday, find out that you're a prince in a magical land, and learn that you have a wonderful family to share it all with!"  Lance grins.  "Speaking of family, do I have any siblings that I should be aware of?"

"A half-brother, David. Like you, he was raised away from me, and like you, he dealt with the gray men himself-- two of them, in his case. Maybe they were more sure about where he was, or who he was...? In any event, he defeated them, and then I found him, and he walked the Pattern, and is off in Shadow right now, but-- again like you-- he has my card, so he should be able to call me if he needs me. He was working as a forest ranger up in Idaho, but I think he's abandoned that job now that he can explore Shadows... He's quite the outdoorsman..."

  Lance smiles.  "A brother!  Cool!  I'll have to look him up someday and say hello."

  A brother!!  The thought is warming.  Happy.  More family.

  As the trio starts making their way again, Lance holds doors for Flora and Ballad, not because he has to, or because they need anyone to do it for them. but because he wants to.

  "So, where are we headed first?"

"You'll see." Flora leads the cousins downstairs and to the castle's front gate, where a carriage is waiting-- it reminds Lance of a hotel that offers complimentary shuttle service downtown.

The carriage speeds downhill, and eventually lets them off at a wide cobblestone street, where the three of them begin to stroll... A few closed carriages roll by... An old man walking a tiny green dragon on a chain leash touched his hat to the strollers as they pass and says, "Good evening."

"Many of the shops, cafes, and restaurants occupy this, the Main Concourse," says Flora. "It is the place of business for most Amber merchants." Strolling reveals various deals being made, goods being purchased, and merchants trying to shout their advertisements.

"At night, the cafes and the restaurants remain open until well after dark, sometimes till midnight during feast days. On a warm summer’s night I walk there myself sometimes, and the people line the Concourse to get to see a member of the family. I come not for me but for them; a royal visit draws them together." Indeed, many people stop and bow or curtsy, smiling. "Despite their proximity to the castle, Amberites are really no different from the subjects of any significant kingdom..."

You keep walking. "Here, Vine Street intersects the Main Concourse, and cuts across the city from west to east. On its eastern portion reside many of Amber’s lesser nobles, while to the west, it leads down to the port district. And 'down' is the precise word. To get to the port district means a walk down cobbled streets to where the lights are much further apart and walking much more... at one's own risk. There's something almost archetypal about unsafe harbor areas, and Amber’s fits the archetype. At one point, in fact, Harbor Road gives way to a stretch called Death Alley. All port cities seem to have such a street... Still, at-one's-own-risk though they may be, the beer-houses and bars near the harbor also serve the best seafood in the city..."

It occurs to Ballad that the eatery called Bloody Mary's is probably down that way...

"But for now, let's do a little clothes-shopping, shall we...?"

(Flora encourages you each to get something, if you want, be it garment or accessory.

However:
--Before leaving her chambers, Flora loaned Ballad one item of jewelry... what was it?

Also:
--Flora states that after the Main Concourse, she'll take the cousins to "the arts and crafts" district... so one might want to hold off unless one finds someone one just can't resist...

Having said that... getting anything in the shops here...?)
This message was last edited by the player at 17:29, Sat 13 June 2020.

The piece of jewellery Ballad chose to borrow from Florimel is a pair of earrings, jet-black.

The supporting cast may have changed, but Ballad’s shopping list hasn’t:

(1) A ready-made ensemble (or two; choices!) that suits her [ethereal cavalier] taste — she’ll want to wear something other than her marsh-trawling duds or this borrowed castle stuff tomorrow. Maybe she’ll pick something up in the first neighborhood of the city Flora decided to bring Ballad and Lance to, and something else in the ‘Arts and Crafts’ quarter. Send the bills to the castle c/o Prince Julian.

(2) A made-to-her-specifications ensemble from an Amber craftsperson, and that may take some time to be completed but Ballad wishes especially to give patronage to somebody local.

(3) Light armor, something one could wear without trouble if one were worried about, say, assassins popping up out of nowhere to try and claw you with their death-talon hands.

And although she doesn't choose to explore Death Alley while with Aunt Flora, or even make eyes as if that's where she wants to go, she also has an eye out for a good locksmith, or a good hair ornament which could double as a sturdy lock picking kit. Multi-function is the key.

Ballad is friendly and chatty with merchants, apparently quite willing to be lured into an extended pitch if the pitch is creative enough. Or by shiny things if the things are shiny enough. She likes to bargain, although if she has any sort of killer instinct, it's sheathed right now. She's playful.

That extends to Flora and Lance. Ballad basically tries to give them some time to bond while accomplishing her goals, while also participating in conversation and making observations. She asks Flora's opinion on this dress or those bracelets. She asks Lance's opinion on that building or this alley.

One question she does have during the initial tour, for Flora, is, "And how does this compare to -- Earth is the Shadow you're enamoured of, isn't it? And that's where you're from, Lance?"

  "Earth is indeed where I grew up, there are lots of shops, but they tended to be either very large and impersonal, or small and dingy.  They weren't anywhere near as lovely and charming as the ones here, and the people weren't as friendly or accomodating, especially in New York.  There were some nice stores once you went out into the rural areas though."  Lance replies to Ballad's query.  "What was it like where you grew up?"

  Lance seems to enjoy the time heartily, looking at different jewelry pieces with Ballad and Flora, seeing which ones they like, for future gift references.  He gives compliments of the clothing and accessories they try on, noting how the different pieces accent things differently.  In truth, it isn't the garment or trinket that enhances the lady, it's the other way around.

  Lance takes note of any pet stores, especially those with large breed puppies.  Flora had seemed especially proud of the dogs she raised, so it might make a nice present if he could find her a pair of adorable ones for her quarters in Amber, since he hadn't noticed any present in her rooms.  He watches especially the things that delight Ballad, looking for ideas for her as well.  Maybe a necklace and earring set similar to the earrings she was wearing now, which she hadn't been upon their first meeting.  Maybe an ornate hairbrush for her long, lovely locks. I would love to spend time brushing her hair.

  He makes a mental note of any good florists and chocolatiers.  Something a gentleman should always have on call if needed.  Lance makes sure to bring Flora and Ballad along with him when peeking into shops, and introducing them to any who don't already seem to know whom they are...but word spreads like wildfire, it seems.

  Lance asks if they can grab a quick lunch at one of the small outdoor cafe's.  After all, it had been hours since breakfast in Texas.

  For himself in this district, Lance only purchases a second simple set of tunic and trousers, in the red and gold that he prefers.  He is looking for something pretty specific, which will likely be found in the craftsman district.  Armor.


  Once in the Craftsman District, Lance looks for an armorer with truly magnificent craftsmanship on display.  If he spies one, Lance begs a few moments to talk to the proprietor discussing with him some ideas for a suit of armor that Lance has always wanted.  It was from a childhood hero from a comic book, but Lance wants to see if the item can be truly rendered with extreme functionality and a few upgrades in colors.  It's the armor of Thor, but with gold colored accents and gold colored scales instead of silver, and more red highlights than blue against the black.

https://www.bing.com/images/se...ex=14&ajaxhist=0

( #1 is easy for Ballad to find right now. Describe!
#2 will take time, but she has no trouble finding someone on the Main Concourse to get started on what she wants.
#3 and #4 should wait until the next stop on the tour.)




There's one that might fill the bill, but it's risky to go look right now without telegraphing his intentions and ruining the surprise...




There's a good one of each on the Main Concourse.




"You can certainly have a bite of something..." says Flora. "Ballad? Any reason you shouldn't spoil your supper...?"

(Hold on fella, we're not to the arts and crafts district just yet...)

New York? Ballad looks inquisitive, for, after all, Earth is a shadow that seems to have captivated so many of Oberon’s brood. “What do you do there? Are you a farm boy or a lord? Do you think you will still visit often? What is Earth's most charming place? This 'New York'? What about Old York?” Ballad asks.

Of the place where she grew up, Ballad says, diplomatically, “Arden is loveliest of all places. The light falls there as nowhere else. And Brecheliant is full of variety and sorcery; I used to watch the ships with black sails and hulls of pearl sail down the river. My time was spent between the city and the woods. And, of course, Dad periodically decided there should be an adventure, so a small but significant portion of growing up was spent...” A graceful gesture, to compass infinite variety, the road, wherever.



(My creativity is low today, but I will describe next post!)



If Lance is paying attention, and he certainly seems to be, he will perhaps note that Ballad is actually much more interested in the people than their things. But she does seem to be particularly pleased by black jewels or black metal jewellery, things chased with silver, some pale moon-green stones, etc., anything that hides a spark or iridescence. Art Nouveau, Art Deco, and Arts & Craft Pre-Raphaelite stuff are good Earth watchwords for the kind of designs she seems attracted by.

But she spends a lot of time looking at practical and useful things, too. It occurs to her that she might want a crossbow, and not rely on Amber's armory or her ability to steal something from Julian's room or one of Julian's hunting lodges in Arden.

Add to the shopping list:

5. A good bow, cross or not. And arrows, tipped in silver, for those magical beasts.



"There's no reason I shouldn't at least have a coffee," Ballad says, or the Amber-equivalent of coffee (but surely Amber has coffee). She can keep going and going and going, but it has been an extremely long day, and she still has many plans.

  "Earth is indeed where I grew up, there are lots of shops, but they tended to be either very large and impersonal, or small and dingy.  They weren't anywhere near as lovely and charming as the ones here, and the people weren't as friendly or accomodating, especially in New York.  There were some nice stores once you went out into the rural areas though."  Lance replies to Ballad's query.  "What was it like where you grew up?"

New York? Ballad looks inquisitive, for, after all, Earth is a shadow that seems to have captivated so many of Oberon’s brood. “What do you do there? Are you a farm boy or a lord? Do you think you will still visit often? What is Earth's most charming place? This 'New York'? What about Old York?” Ballad asks.

  Lance chuckles, "I was neither lord, nor farm boy.  I worked throughout the travelling medieval fair circuit, going from town to town, dressing much like is common in Amber for work, more like I was when we met otherwise.  I did sword demonstrations, the occasional joust, and I trained people in the use of weapons and did fight choreography for actors.  It was fun, and I met a lot of great people.  I'm sure I'll go back periodically, but so far Amber is by far more interesting."  he gives her a big smile. "I hear that Paris is the most romantic place in the world, although I haven't been there.  That's a trip to take with someone special.  There are some beautiful places in Alaska, and Oregon, and Maine if you like the great outdoors.  Ireland is nice, as is Scotland and England.  New York, well, it's not my favorite.  There isn't an Old York, just a York, which is in England."

    Of the place where she grew up, Ballad says, diplomatically, “Arden is loveliest of all places. The light falls there as nowhere else. And Brecheliant is full of variety and sorcery; I used to watch the ships with black sails and hulls of pearl sail down the river. My time was spent between the city and the woods. And, of course, Dad periodically decided there should be an adventure, so a small but significant portion of growing up was spent...” A graceful gesture, to compass infinite variety, the road, wherever.

  "It sounds wonderful!  I should like to see Arden sometime." Lance hints. "Maybe you could show me around?"

   He watches especially the things that delight Ballad, looking for ideas for her as well.  Maybe a necklace and earring set similar to the earrings she was wearing now, which she hadn't been upon their first meeting.  Maybe an ornate hairbrush for her long, lovely locks. I would love to spend time brushing her hair.

If Lance is paying attention, and he certainly seems to be, he will perhaps note that Ballad is actually much more interested in the people than their things. But she does seem to be particularly pleased by black jewels or black metal jewellery, things chased with silver, some pale moon-green stones, etc., anything that hides a spark or iridescence. Art Nouveau, Art Deco, and Arts & Craft Pre-Raphaelite stuff are good Earth watchwords for the kind of designs she seems attracted by.

But she spends a lot of time looking at practical and useful things, too. It occurs to her that she might want a crossbow, and not rely on Amber's armory or her ability to steal something from Julian's room or one of Julian's hunting lodges in Arden.

Lance asks about stopping for a bite to eat.

"You can certainly have a bite of something..." says Flora. "Ballad? Any reason you shouldn't spoil your supper...?"


"There's no reason I shouldn't at least have a coffee," Ballad says, or the Amber-equivalent of coffee (but surely Amber has coffee). She can keep going and going and going, but it has been an extremely long day, and she still has many plans.

  Lance looks at a lovely corner café, with outdoor seating and hanging plants.
"Shall we try that one, or do you have a favorite?" he asks Flora
This message was last edited by the player at 08:40, Tue 16 June 2020.

She smiles back, but teases him goodnaturedly: “You haven’t been to the most romantic place in your world, and yet you seem to have a most romantic heart; why didn’t you go?” Peer down this alley, examine this pair of gloves, etc. She adds: “I traveled through a Parys once, but it was not romantic. It was a city that prided itself on its dark atmosphere, guarded by many gargoyles who were all very anxious to relieve you of your eyes if you misstepped. Double darkenss. But they had good music in Parys and good cafés and the Catacombs were hopping behind the barricades!”



"Do you ride?" Ballad says. “Once you learn to manipulate shadow, you will find it impossible until you are at least as far away from Amber as... well, Arden is one good place to 'exit, pursued by beasts.' Although hopefully without the beasts in pursuit.”

(I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, GM, and I'll change this.)

  Lance listens.  "The Parys you went to sounds dreadful.  The one on Earth is supposedly very beautiful, and nobody looking to take your eyes.  It's not the place to go solo though.  It's a trip I'm saving for when I'm really in love."

  To Ballad's inquiry about riding, he replies, "I do ride, a little.  I'm no expert by a long way, but I have a good enough seat. I imagine everyone in Amber rides.  Beasts?  Are people always pursued by beasts in Arden?"

Ballad’s eyes dance at Lance’s assessment of her Parys. “The gargoyles were pests, but the rest was rather invigorating." A beat. "Not once were you ever in love? Why, how exciting to have first love to look forward to!” She seems to mean it very earnestly. Here, a lopsided smile, one of the ones that suggests a dimple in one cheek. "And how perilous for your heart."

As for Arden, of which Brecheliant is a mere shadow, Ballad sets the gloves back down and meanders herself and Lance closer to Flora (so very engaged with the hats). “‘Exit, pursued by beasts’ is a quote; sorry! You never know what holds over from shadow to shadow. But it is an apt one for Arden. The woods are deep, dark, and dangerous; of course, the beasts are as often pursued as they pursue—it was more dangerous when the Black Road was still around. It is perfectly possible to have a ride through Arden where you are untroubled by fang or talon and the rangers are ever-valorous. But it is wise to be wary when you are riding out.” Ballad smiles, and it is for herself, this smile, all starlight and a glance downward, meditative. "I love it more than many other places."

Then Ballad touches Lance's arm and leans in, conspiratorially, "I think your mom didn't hear your café suggestion."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Thu 18 June 2020.

  The moment is punctuated by a loud growling from Lance's stomach.  He whispers back, "Have a care, Flora asked me to not use the 'M' word in public.  Probably waiting until there is some kind of formal acknowledgement or something.  But I think you're right.  She's transfixed by the hats.  They ARE marvelous."

  "Flora, do you have any favorite cafe's around here, or shall we try that one across the way and see how their fare is?  Their outdoor seating looks cozy, and we can people watch as we eat."  Lance suggests.

"Mm? Oh, no, that one seems fine..."

The trio stops for a quick bit of coffee and "cornets," baked goods that look a little like croissants vaguely in the shape of unicorn horns.

  The coronets are delicious and the coffee is excellent as well.  Lance sits back in his chair, gazing about and smiling.  As they sit he continues the conversation with Ballad.  “It’s not that I haven’t had my dalliances, my crushes, even I dare say some sparks...just not the right one.  What about you, cousin?  Any paramours, husbands, fiancées, boyfriends?  I mean, I can’t imagine someone as lovely as yourself ever lacking in suitors.”  .

To Flora he poses a more appropriate question,  “So, what was it like growing up here, Flora?  Did you spend much time out in the city, or were the royal children kept cloistered away?”

"I'd come here pretty often before I was old enough to walk the Pattern... always with a bodyguard nearby... It was... well, I don't have a lot to compare it to." She turned to Ballad. "Where you were raised... did the people there see you as a member of the most important family in the universe, to be worshiped and adored? Because I grasp that that's not really how most people grow up, but it's how I did, and it's... hard to compare my experiences to those of others..."

Coffee!!!

Ballad spends more time with the coffee than the cornets. She wants the coffee black, muddy, possibly spiced with cardamom and ginger, and it refreshes her.



“Your imagination is sweet to me,” Ballad says, tweaking Lance's collar with an air of fondness. “I don't live a vestal life, but—” and Ballad’s eyes shift briefly (thoughtfully), as if she’s looking through her memories. Then she focuses again on Lance, offers him the luminous edge of a smile. A careless, graceful shrug. “—I’m so often on the road.”



"I would not say that I was treated like an acknowledged child of Oberon is treated in Amber," Ballad (earnestly) tells Flora, which is perfectly true, and gives very little information about Ballad's status in her birth shadow and the kind of place Julian might spend some of his 'off' time. But she adds: "Dad isn't a god in Brecheliant. Grandmama is the Moon, however, but that doesn't really come with special privileges. What was Oberon like as a father? Did you--do you--have a favorite sibling?" She says, to Lance, "I always thought I'd rather like to have a vast array of siblings, but Mom only ever had me."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:26, Mon 22 June 2020.

  Lance shakes his head, chuckling. "Flora, it must have been like being raised as some super movie-star kid.  I imagine it attracted lots of attention, both wanted and otherwise.  Hard to have a private life here at home, eh?  Speaking of which, if I'm going to be hanging around Amber here, how will anyone know that I'm not just some kind of pretender running around buying things and billing them to the castle?"

  To Ballad he muses, "I grew up with a lot of kids.  We were kind of an odd mix, but we generally got along.  It was kind of like having brothers and sisters, but not really.  I'll be looking forward to meeting the rest of our actual relatives.  I suppose your mom only had you because she got it right the first time.  Why mess with perfection?" his eyes twinkle.

"Mm. It changed from time to time. I suppose Gerard, followed by Corwin, perhaps followed by Caine..."




"They'll know. No one would dare pretend. That might even count as blasphemy. No one wants to spend time in Trent's dungeons. But they'll know by the very look of you-- and if that wasn't enough, walking around with your cousin and I will make it clear."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:33, Mon 22 June 2020.

Ballad salutes Lance with her (almost empty, possibly second) cup of coffee. His eyes twinkle; so do hers. A couple of charming kids.

She is happy to ask more questions of Flora about the family--"What is Corwin like? Have you talked to him recently?"

--or "Everybody seems to enjoy Gérard. Lance, do you know that game 'arm wrestling' on Earth? I wish one day to arm wrestle Gérard and last five seconds with him really striving."

--and she's also happy to continue on their way.

"Er-- no, I haven't." She lowers her voice. "...The theory is that he's in the Shadow behind the Pattern he drew with the Jewel of Judgment... Random's personal theory is that it's a Shadow with a huge time differential... such as a day there being 20 years here... or something... But not only might that not be true, that might not even be where he is... But I think it's what Random thinks-- that Corwin and Merlin are there, and perhaps Ghostwheel is doing something involving that Shadow too..."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:43, Tue 23 June 2020.

  Other questions spring to mind, but Flora lowering her voice infers that certain matters should wait to be discussed in private.

  The snack done, it seems that everyone is ready to continue, fortified for the journey into the craftsman section.

  "Arm wrestling?  Oh yes, they have that on Earth.  Is uncle Gerard particularly good at it?" he asks.  It was a chance to learn more about his family as the trio strolled.

"Er," says Flora, at normal volume, but with a tone that says ah, right, Lance wouldn't know yet. "You know how you're almost ridiculously strong, considering your build, on Earth? Gerard is like that for our family. Like Earth's superhero stories... except Gerard can't fly nor shoot energy from his eyes. I have always suspected that tales of Herakles on Earth are because Gerard wandered through for a while. I've never asked Gerard about it because the story of Herakles has some very tragic parts..."

  "About five years ago I was thinking about entering one of those strongman competitions that they had on television.  I did some training on my own and figured I'd have a pretty good shot at winning, but I decided not to because why ruin it for the guys that this was their whole life?  For me it would have been a hold my beer and watch this kinda thing.  Why steal their thunder, right?"  Lance chuckles, "I couldn't imagine how uncle Gerard would crush it if he's the guy in our family that has that kind of intensity about it.  Are there any other things that our relatives are fanatical about that I should know?"

"Oh, I don't think Gerard, ah, works out. He's simply that strong anyway. As for fanatical... I'd say no, in general... with the exception of Benedict. Benedict is... extremely intense, let us say... about warfare, battle. He'll go walking into Shadow to find a battle, watch it from a hill or mountainside, and then walk to a nearby Shadow to watch how it plays out a little differently... repeat that dozens of times. He is a master of combat, strategy, and warfare, and could take Amber's crown easily if he wished. He simply doesn't want it."

They stroll. Ballad dutifully—a girl ready to please!—considers Lance’s build because, after all, Aunt Flora said. Superhero stories? Herakles? Strongman competitions on ‘television’? Tech stuff, maybe? She absorbs this information about Shadow Earth, just in case she ever visits, and seems very bright-eyed and interested indeed, especially when Flora answers Lance's question about 'obsession' and their aunts and uncles.

"Amber's crown seems like an awful lot of trouble," she remarks. "Who would want the responsibility? I think Benedict has the right idea; just have fun in your own way."

    It is particularly enjoyable strolling and shopping and seeing the sights of Amber, and even more so because of the company Lance is in.

    Lance smiles.  "And what, my dear cousin, is that which drives you?  Hmm?  Everyone has something that they are particularly passionate about, so what sparks ignite your fires?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to say something flip like ‘Lance, I shan’t tell you because then you’ll know me well and deny us many conversations in the future where you unravel my mystery and I unravel yours.’ But instead I’ll tell you honestly ‘I don’t know.’ Supposing I say what lights me up is just life. I like a mystery, and I like to feel my heart start." This time the smile isn't a spark; it's just an easy, luminous little hook. "I like this. Conversation and exploration. Is your passion swordfighting on the medieval fair circuit? Have you ever made your own sword? What about you, Aunt Flora? What is your one passion?”

ooc: Sorry it took me so long, guys. Super long days over here.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Sat 27 June 2020.

  Lance thinks about it for a moment. "It's hard to nail down anything very specific.  I never made a sword, but it seems like something cool to try someday.  I enjoyed the medieval fairs more for the people and interacting with them than the sword fighting.  I mean, the sword work was fun and all, but hardly challenging.  I think the thing I liked most was that I was always cast as the good guy, someone to inspire people.  Someone to give them hope that goodness would somehow triumph against the odds.  I like standing up for the little guy, championing the underdog, helping people.  Growing up, all of us kids were given a tiny allowance.  I used mine to buy comic books.  Little picture books that told stories about heroes with amazing powers who fought against bad guys.  After I read them, I'd share them with the other kids.  I always wanted to be like Thor.  He was a super good guy, and was the God of Thunder, and he had a magic hammer, and he was so cool!"

  He pauses before adding, "But that's not all that inspires me.  Beauty, romance, love.  I've always been a romantic at heart."

"You may get that from me. Those three words are the sort of thing I would have said to answer the question..." says Flora...

Ballad isn’t surprised Lance was always cast as the good guy; he looks like he carved himself out of the sun—she’d cast him as a good guy, too, with that smile. Ballad waits an appropriate moment—mother-son bonding is something she will not get in the way of.

"If you're going to have a heart, why not let it be a romantic one," Ballad says, with a wink. Then she adds, curiously “If the comic books are about heroes fighting villainy, why are they called ‘comic’ books? Are they funny? What is one thing you are proud of doing for somebody else?”

  Lance smiles. "The first comic books weren't about super heroes.  I guess they were just funny stories at first, then this guy started publishing them about heroes, and that eventually became the typical fare.  They just never changed what they called them, I guess."

  The second question brings a cloud to his usually bright eyes.  "Where I grew up, in high school when you're about eighteen, there is this big dance at the end of your final year.  It's called the prom.  Well, I had already graduated, but there was a girl who was three years behind me.  Her name was Rebecca.  One of the sweetest, nicest people you could ever meet.  Friendly to everyone, kind to the core.  She was handicapped, very much so.  Muscular dystrophy.  Terrible, crippling, painful disease.  Well, I knew that nobody was going to ask her to the prom for her senior year, so I asked her.  I did it up right, found a limo that could accommodate her wheelchair, flowers, you name it.  I talked to the kids I knew in her class and we made her the Prom Queen.  We made it the best night of her life.  She passed away a few months later from complications from the disease.  At the funeral, her parents told me how happy that prom had made her, and how she had always talked about it, even in her last hours."

  He wipes his eyes with his cloak, erasing the tears that had started falling.

  "Sorry, it just hurts thinking about her funeral.  She really was such a beautiful soul."

  "Now what about you, cousin?  What's the most wonderful thing you've ever done for anyone, besides spending this lovely afternoon gifting us with your company?"  Lance asks, looking to get the conversation on more of an upbeat note.

He’s crying? Unexpected! The whole story is unexpected. Ballad hooks her arm through his and squeezes his shoulder with her free hand—casual gallantry. “No apology needs to be made for feeling; it is good to have a sympathetic heart.”

She grins (contained radiance) at Lance. "And now hey there, it's no fair, you calling this afternoon off-limits. What if it is the most wonderful thing I've ever done for somebody else? I really don't know what my answer is. Hmm. I solved a mystery once for someone. They were happy afterward, so perhaps that was the most wonderful thing. Oh, I rescued a musician's instrument, which had been cruelly snatched by a rival before a momentous occasion! That may be the most wonderful thing; rescueing it required a lot of dash and aplomb. But you know, you can just call me Ballad. It will get confusing when there are other cousins around."

  "So you enjoy helping solve people's problems?  That's good, there's plenty of people in need of help. Well, Ballad, you may wind up adding today to the top of that list yet.  This is by far and away the best birthday I've ever had so far." he says getting his smile back.

  As the trio makes their way into the craftsman area, Lance tries to take it all in.  The sights, the sounds, the smells.

  Walking with my mom and my cousin, in a land where we are royalty, and amazing things are real.  What could be a better way to spend the afternoon?  Lance thinks to himself.

Off to the east of the Concourse, but still close to the city’s center, is Temple Street. "Once the home of the major temples," says Flora, gesturing around you at the neighborhood at which your walking has now brought you, "before the Pureness movements forced them to the countryside, Temple Street has now become the place of entertainment and the arts and crafts. The established theater on the street is called The Crown, because its pentagonal shape is shaped after the crown of Amber (and the outer walls of the castle). A few decades ago, though, its monopoly was challenged by a rather radical theater group calling themselves the Players of the Unicorn. Unlike the Crown’s Company, this newer troupe often features excellent roles for women, and admission prices are less than half those of The Crown. They also strive for spectacle, which The Crown seems to think is inappropriate. Naturally, I have seen fit to become a benefactor of the new theater. Just as naturally, Benedict supports the old.

Temple Street is extremely busy during the long days of summer. Everywhere, visitors pose for portrait-painters, while musicians stroll the narrow street playing their lutes and their guitars or singing songs of the sea. Craftsmen advertise their wares in long, loud shouts, and silent dancing troupes entertain with the hopes of raising enough money to keep their small business alive. Then, suddenly, in the middle of it all, the horns summon the playgoers to The Crown; before they get there, though, they must pass through placard- bearing members of the Unicorn troupe, the placards pleading with them to visit the newer theater instead. It is bustling and it is noisy, but the excitement is always high.

This is the street, too, where one finds the best ceramics, and the most unusual tapestries and clothing. Because of the influence of the royal family, who shift from Shadow to Shadow and develop tastes according to their travels, potters, tailors, tapestriers, and artists of all kinds display great eclecticism. Tapestry styles range from Anglo-Saxon to eighteenth-century Italian, and even into American and Begman. Fashion is frequently of Earth’s medieval-style — men with long robes of velvet, caps of black velvet, tunics of various colors complete with slashed sleeves and padded shoulders; women in hennin with a trail of gold-colored linen, full trains on low-cut gowns — but fashion is moving recently towards the less elaborate styles reminiscent of eighteenth-century England and France. The variety in styles gives Temple Street a richness that spills into the city as a whole..."

  Amazed by the rich diversity of styles, Lance listens as Flora describes the area.  It is like the best of the merchant areas at the biggest renn-fairs, only hundreds of time bigger and better.  The smile on his face is one of pure delight.

  "I should think it will take a long time indeed to see all that this place has to offer!  It's wonderful!" Lance exclaims. "What do you think, Ballad?  Are you a theatre lover?  My favorite play was always A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Shakespeare really wrote some amazing stuff."

All the references to Shadow Earth go right over Ballad’s head, but she listens the way one does when one is an experienced(ish) Shadow traveller — you get used to picking a little up here, a little up there, and putting it together into a coherent whole. She’s curious about what people are wearing, but is used to choosing what pleases her and sallying forth with confidence. It’s never failed her (except for that one time, involving that prison, but you win some and you lose some).

"Well, you have time to see it all, don't you? Are you planning to return to Shadow Earth any time soon, or to make your home here, under Uncle Random's watch?" Ballad smiles, lopsidedly. "I do like theater. Any outdoor performance, be it risk's grace or silver tongues, rock concerts, dueling zithers, things with noise! And as far as plays go, oh, I'm theoretically interested in any. What's this Midsummer Night's Dream about?"

  "Flora says it's probably based on our grandfather, Oberon.  In the play, Oberon is King of the Fae, and he's at odds with his wife.  There's a lot of mistaken identities, and a pair of human couples being put under spells, mostly love spells, and after a number of hilarious interludes the Fae finally fix things and manage to get everyone with the person they are meant to be with, Oberon reconciles with his wife, and everything comes to a happy ending.  I just love it when things end up all happy like that.  Much better than the tragedies he wrote, in my opinion.  If I can get a copy of the script, perhaps I can get the theatre troupe to perform it for us, one day." Lance says enthusiastically.

  "In truth, I think I will be calling Amber home for quite some time.  There's so much to see and experience here.  Of course if we can travel to find any reality we can think of there's so many exciting options for travel, but I've spent my life until just yesterday without any roots.  Now that I have family, I want to take the time to truly know them.  And there's still the issue of the assassin to deal with.  Who sent him and why?  But what are your plans, Ballad?  In truth, I'm hoping we might spend a good bit of time together, if you're amenable to it."

“Of course.” Ballad offers Lance a starry smile, and tips an imaginary hat. The dark gems in her hair gleam; the borrowed black earrings gleam, too, abyssal. “I want to know you well." A pause; she looks him over, head to toe, and the starry smile goes lopsided.

"And you’re right, you know — once you have assayed the Pattern, you could choose to try for a Shadow where the people built their culture around a yearly performance of your favorite play, or where the play itself is true history. If things go well, it need be no more than a weekend holiday.” A thoughtful gleam in her eventide blue eyes. They’re always expressive, see, of something—just now the beginning of an idea. “Even better than a theatre troupe, we could perform it. Is there a good role for me in the play?” Beat. "As for the matter of the assassin, how do you want to deal with it?"

  Lance doesn't hesitate.  "Oh, you would be cast in nothing less than the starring role, Puck, the Fae who both introduces and ends the play, and who is Oberon's shrewd and knavish sprite, his right hand, as it were.  I myself would likely be cast as Snug the Joiner, a dimwitted but likeable actor in the play within the play who ends up playing the most unfierce and comedic lion ever."

  They walk on a bit.  "As to the assassin, I'd like to find out who sent it and why.  It's not as though it's something personal...that I could more easily understand.  Whomever did such a thing though has a larger game afoot.  I'm told such creatures were used before against our family.  That speaks to someone who generally wants us all dead, and that I will not bide.  I've only just found my family, and I'll be damned if I'll let anyone harm them if I can do anything about it.  We'll have to uncover the scoundrel before they can make a successful strike, and find a way to ensure they become unable to further pursue such mischief."

Ballad’s eyes scrunch up with mirth. “You think I’d play knavish well? Hmm. I don't know what I should I think about that.” She is, of course, teasing her cousin again. Adds, more seriously, “I shouldn’t have liked to be grandfather’s right hand, but I would like to see your comedic lion sometime.”

The specter of assassions recalls Ballad to part of her original purpose for a visit to Amber City: light armor, something one could wear without trouble were one worried about assassins popping out of nowhere to try and claw you with their death talon hands. And, of course, something that could be used for a portable lock picking kit, maybe a locksmith if there’s one to pop into.

"I was told the same thing, about good ol' Talonhands and friends being a repeating villainy," Ballad says. "Should the person behind the gray men be uncovered... Would you cast them into the dungeons or would you kill them? What if they are blood kin?"

ooc: Ha! That is the role I would have given her, Lance. *g* Very nice.

  "I suppose it depends on their motive, and whether or not there was a chance at redeeming them.  I'm not sure that incarceration is a great answer.  If they are beyond redemption, they would need to be killed, I suppose, even if they're a relative.  Fortunately, that type of decision likely won't land in our laps, but the King's."

  As the trio continues to window shop, Lance gets a few steps ahead, turning to walk backwards after making sure the path is clear for him to not collide with anyone.

  "You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am
A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life..."

  He rakes one paw delicately into the air and adds a very meek and humble "..roar!"

"It's true," Ballad faux-sighs, as Lance gets ahead of them and before he has monologued, re: that decision falling on Uncle Random's shoulders. "I am, personally, quite poor in dungeons."

She listens attentive to the monologue, though not without a glance to Lance's mother, which is how she thinks of Flora now. Urk. Their beauty still eventually stop being shocking, right? Monologue over, Ballad grins at Lance, eyes dancing.

“A very good sort of lion! Deserving of chin scritches as well as fear and trembling. Does your sigil incorporate a lion?”

  "I think I'm more of a house-lion than a King of the Jungle!" he laughs. "No, my heraldry is quite simple, really.  A pair of golden swords crossed upon a red field with a golden border.  I suppose I'll have to get it approved by the College of Heralds here, if there is such a thing in Amber.  How about your, Ballad, Flora?  What are your heraldic designs?  I bet they're something marvelous!" Lance asks, turning and falling back into step between them.

"My colors are green and gray... my symbol is a white flower that grows in Arden... it looks like a cross between a lily, a lotus, and a passionflower..."

  Lance smiles.  "It sound lovely.  Worth the trip to Arden just to see one, I'd warrant."

  As the trio meander along, there is much window shopping to be done.  Lance is still on the lookout for armorers of note.

The first interesting shop that has armor is called THE VELVET FIST. Its wares range from fancy ceremonial stuff to purely functional designs that throw out fancy entirely (perhaps partially to keep the price down?)

“Gold suits you, Lance. I don't know that I've ever before met a man who so embodied that particular color--all Sun-warmth and light," Ballad says. "My sigil is a basilisk sleeping on a harp; they are beside a tower, covered in brambles. Very fussy, but very striking on a banner or embossed on a calling card.”

The Velvet Fist is interesting! While they're poking around, she looks for gauntlets, because with a name like the Velvet Fist she expects something lightweight and pretty and extremely functional, and this is how she amuses herself in Shadow. Why treat Amber City any differently?

For ladies of Ballad's hand size, Ballad finds a lovely pair of silver-and-brass gauntlets, but they're more decorative than functional. She also finds a plainer, functional pair, but they're a lit-tle big for her.

"We do alterations and custom orders, miss," says the green-haired (looks dyed) shopgal...

  Lance looks at the armor, especially the scaled mail.  He asks the shopkeeper about the construction, if the rings are butted or welded closed, what gauge and composition the metals are...etc.  Clearly he is looking for a design that is definitely not an off-the-shelf item.  He asks to borrow a quill and some paper so he can sketch that he's looking for.  It should be decorative, extremely functional, and easy to move in.  The metal and leathers should be dyed or annealed specifically to his colors.  It's a derivative of his heroic idol's armor, Thor, but done in red and gold.  Essentially, it winds up looking like something that would be Thor's armor redesigned and optimized by Tony Stark.

  Realizing that he's taking a lot of time, Lance says apologetically, "Sorry ladies, I can always come back to talk to the armorers if I'm slowing us down too much.  It'd be something that will require several fittings and probably quite a while to make anyway, if it's even a workable design."

The craftsman at The Velvet Fist is very interested in providing what Lance wants. This may likely be because of the prestige of making something for a member of the royal family. It also may likely be because it's likely to be quite expensive.

  Provided there are no objections from Flora or Ballad, Lance continues with the armorer until he's pretty sure they know what wants and if it will work, and if there are any ways of imbuing the armor with any kind of magical properties, etc.  He leaves it with them to mull over and submit their best proposal for it to the castle.  Something of this order would certainly require a nod from Flora at the least, or possibly even from the King himself.  Lance was still rather unsure of what kind of indulgences he could expect yet.

  Seeing Ballad still looking at gauntlets, Lance smiles.  He had no doubt she could handle herself well in a scrap, just as Flora could undoubtedly do as well.  He remembered the crossbow she had wielded so easily.

  Once everyone is content, he asks, "Shall we sally forth?"

"That's fine with me... Shall we go elsewhere, or tarry in this district a while longer...?"

  "Let us look around this district a bit more.  it's always nice to see the kind of things that people make.  Creating things is such an amazing talent, and we have a lovely day to be out.  You never know what we may find."  says Lance joyfully.

  "Ballad, are you ready to continue on?" he asks.

Ballad has a taste for decorative armor, but isn’t particularly set afire by what she sees at the Velvet Fist. That doesn’t mean she won’t offer the shopwoman a vibrant and warm lilt of a smile, one which echoes in her eyes, and ask with interest, “Who does the alterations? You? Tell me about the artisans who craft your work; where did they learn their skills? How long have they been working at their art?” She’d like to know the names of any satisfied customers, as well, thorough, thorough, thorough when it comes to background checking—although she is personable and friendly, of course.

Ballad certainly doesn't object to Lance taking his time with the armorer, and perhaps wanders into a nearby stall while waiting after her conversation with the green-haired woman, although she has circled back by the time Flora and Lance are ready to go.

"Why don't we play a game? We can split up and try to find an extraordinary creation to show the other in--let's say half an hour? An hour? I believe we have that much time before we need to head back to the castle. We meet up with our extraordinary thing in tow, and vote on the most extraordinary."

It's her husband who does the alterations, as it turns out-- he's been doing this kind of work for about eight years, and he apprenticed in Begma. She gives the names of three different satisfied customers, which of course Ballad doesn't know, but Flora makes a face like Yes, okay, not bad.




"I, of course, will help neither side," says Flora. "...Presuming, that is, that Lance agrees to play...?"

  "Of course I'll play," Lance says with a grin, "of course if I wasn't a sporting fellow I could win right this moment, with ease.  All I'd need do is take either of you ladies by the hand and present her as their parents' most extraordinary creation!  I daresay there's naught which could compare....but that would be too easy a win, and Ballad did specify a thing, so I suppose people are out of bounds.  I suppose I'll have to find something around the craftsman's shops to enter as my submission." 

(Each of you make a Perception roll, please.

I'll give more instructions after each of you have done so.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:55, Mon 17 Aug 2020.

(20:18, Today: Ballad rolled 5 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 2,2.  I spy with my little eye - or, cough, not - Perception.)

23:50, Today: Lance rolled 3 using 2d6-1 with rolls of 1,3.  Lance, Perception roll.

  Lance could be called pretty...but in this instance, more like pretty dense...actually, closer to entirely oblivious.

(Each of you gain one new xp.)


Each of you have (unbeknownst to the other) great difficulty in finding something special.

Finally, the time comes to meet up again.

(Each of you (in any order) show (and therefore describe for) the others the one thing you have found.

It should have one kinda neat quality, but also one quality that makes it less awesome.

Flora will judge the winner (unless she decides it's a tie).)

  Lance's find is a large ceramic planter, in the shape of King Oberon's bust with tiny black-leafed ivy growing out from  the head above the crown...at least that was what he was told it was.  It doesn't really look much like Oberon at all, but as Lance had never met him or seen his picture he had no frame of reference.  Perhaps the best part of it was the plant growing within it, a very rare, exotic foliage known throughout the Golden Circle for it's incredible medicinal properties, which again, Lance was utterly clueless about.

  "Look, it's Grandpa!" he exclaims proudly.

Ballad returns with her prize, all lyrical swagger and a flash-bright grin, as if she hadn't been constantly distracted from her quest by other quests, and then had scrambled at the end to find an appropriate object.

“That’s lovely, Lance! But now I must ask that you raise your hands and prepare to shield your eyes, for they are about to be dazzled! That you become acutely aware of your heartrate, for—darlings!—your hearts are about to race! I must ask that you attend me very closely,” and she winks at Lance, smiles at Flora, eyes all a-sparkle, “for what I am about to show you will surely live on in your dreams."

And, bam! Ballad brings out a finely wrought metal flower. Fine work, but simple enough. Right? Right? She waits a beat, and then shakes the flower out and--nothng happens. Ballad doesn't let that dim her smile; she shakes the flower out again and--still nothing. Third time's the charm, right? On the third shake, accompanied by a rather forceful click of a button, and the metal flower folds into a knife--no! Not a knife. Scissors!

Ballad raises an eyebrow as if to say Eh? Eh? Pretty good, right? But wait, there's more! On what has become the hinge of the fancy-pants scissors, there's a little tiny bulbous compartment. Ballad opens it!

No she doesn't. It sticks.

Ballad tries again and ... opens it!

Nope. It sticks.

Third time, it opens, revealing a very pretty thimble and needle, although the thimble is an atrocious color.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:54, Mon 31 Aug 2020.

Flora sighs. "Difficult," she says. "Lance, the planter does not look like Oberon... however, the black-leafed ivy itself is a very rare, exotic foliage known throughout the Golden Circle for its incredible medicinal properties. So that does get you quite a few points, right there-- as well as meaning that you didn't throw your money away at all.

But... although I think it needs some repair work from a talented whitesmith, I must admit that Ballad's sewing kit is clever and functional... although I don't think it would hurt anything to replace the thimble..."

  Lance bows to Ballad and then says to Flora.

  "I think I shall have to yield the day to Ballad.  Hers is pretty, functional, clever and quite artfully done.  Nothing a little WD-40 couldn't fix for the sticking hinge  Mine, on the other hand, would not have been of any value save for the pure accident of it's contents.  For all I knew, the shrubbery could have been a nuisance weed."

  He turns to Ballad.  "So, cousin, you have won the day, and well done at that.  What would you claim from me for your prize?"

  Lance waits patiently as his cousin seems to think long and hard about her answer.  He nods to Flora, "I think the cat hath got fair Ballad's tongue!"

“Well, I can’t think of anything I want from you just at this precise instant,” Ballad says to the extremely beautiful man, an implied here in the street or in front of your mother a ghost beneath the words. After all, she’s but a demi-immortal — flesh and blood and warmth, so she — (pleased as punch to have been declared winner! Truly!) — swept Lance a look before speaking. Don’t interrupt the gazing, pretty boy!

Then she holds out her hand, straight-armed, for a handshake—“So I’ll just take a favor on your honor as a grandson of Oberon, to be fulfilled later, once I know you better.”

  Lance shakes on it with a smile.  "Of course, dear cousin...anything you should ask of me that is within my power to do for you.  You have my word on it."

  Looking then to Flora he asks, "So, what shall we see next?"

"What time is it? Ballad mustn't be late for supper... but if it's not too late, we can see something else..."

 Lance looks at the digital wristwatch he had forgotten he was wearing.  It was blank. "My watch seems to have given up.  I'm sure we've caused enough of a stir in the marketplace for one day, and I can almost always eat.  Let's make our way back.  Do you think any of the other relatives will be coming to dinner tonight?"

You all head back to the castle... a carriage is waiting back near the start of the first shops you visited, which is good, or there'd be a lot more uphill walking.

As soon as the three of you are inside the castle, a servant comes running up.

"M'Lady Ballad, the queen awaits."

The servant turns to Lance. "The king also bade me inform you that M'Lady Ballad's invitation to dine with the queen has been extended to you as well, M'Lud Lance, if you wish and if M'Lady Ballad has no objection..."

  Turning to Ballad, Lance asks, "Well, it's up to you, Ballad.  Would you like me to join you, or would you prefer a private dinner with the Queen?  I'd certainly like to meet her, and of course parting from your company would be sheer torture...but the initial invitation was yours, so it's your call."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:28, Mon 28 Sept 2020.

Back in Amber City, Ballad shook Lance's hand with all due solemnity, only a hint of exaggerated clowning for fun's sake. And she'd given Lance the sewing kit, with her compliments. The bust she suggests be a gift for the library, or perhaps for Flora, and so things go conversationally!

Back in Amber Castle, and in the present moment, Ballad accepts the news from the servant, her expression attentive. The attentive gaze turns to Lance when he says, why, he'd like to come; she only flicks a quick look toward Flora, to guage whether her aunt has any objection, but truth to tell she doesn't expect Flora to object so she doesn't look very hard. She's impulsive, and so with wave of her hand all nonchalant grace, "But why should I want to part ways yet, if we don't have to? Besides, I'm no dragon, jealously hoarding relations -- as far as I'm concerned, you're very welcome."

To the servant, "I will freshen up first; direct me now to where the Queen waits or send somebody to do so to my room."

And with that, Ballad reaches out to take Flora's hands, squeezing them. "Thank you for your kindness, Aunt. I will not soon forget." And then a wink for Lance, before she's off to her room to change her bandages.

--

ooc: I figure it's been long enough she should change her bandages? or would at least want to check on them. If I'm wrong, well, Ballad will be pleasantly surprised.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:53, Tue 29 Sept 2020.

  Lance watches Ballad go his eyes locked on her until she is away and out of sight, remarking to Flora after she's out of earshot, "There's just something magnetic about her, isn't there?  So, half cousin, or is it second cousin, or cousin once removed....I was always terrible at figuring out that sort of thing."

  He sighs.  "Damn.  I'm smitten.  Well, I suppose I'd best clean up too before meeting the Queen.  If you're not busy later, maybe we could have drinks...or if not, I'll see you in the morning for breakfast before that trip down to the basement, right?"

"Mm, I wouldn't drink right before bed, considering what you've got planned for yourself tomorrow. A light breakfast would probably be best. I'll see you then," says Flora.

---

When Ballad and Lance are appropriately freshened up, they are led to a new door upstairs.

The sitting room is furnished in a style reminiscent of the late medieval period in northern Europe on Shadow Earth. An ancient round table stands in the middle of the room, set for dinner.

On a carpet along the westernmost wall stands a high-backed wooden bench, a rectangular table, and a bust of Oberon (it looks almost nothing like the planter). The king’s chair is obvious; close to the visitors’ bench, its high back bears a carving of the crown of Amber. 

In several places, small sculptures are placed on tables and mantels. Elegant and brilliantly designed, they are abstractions of several of Amber’s royals.

Vialle is only a little over five feet tall and quite slim. Brunette, fine-featured. She wears a red dress. Her sightless eyes look through one, a bit.

"Welcome, honored guests," she says.

Ballad offers Lance the gallant sweep of a bow and the crook of her arm when they two meet again, following up with a wink when they fall into step behind the servant. She does seem refreshed.

“No Aunt Flora? I hope she isn’t too wroth you’ve been whisked away from her.”

—

Welcome, honored guests, Vialle says.

“Thank you, Madame Queen,” Ballad replies, and she is high-spirited—all impulse and swagger, direct as an arrow loosed—so goes immediately to Vialle, with only a brief glance for the rest of the room. "Both for the welcome and for finding time in your schedule to spend with us. "I've had one good long conversation with Uncle Random, and—" it might be noted here, that under her long lashes, there's a vibrant gleam; that her voice is steeped in that same mood, a shadow-on-silk spark of mischief, habitual laughter "—a significant portion of that conversation was spent dwelling on your charms. So it is very good to hear your voice and to observe you in flesh and blood. May I offer you my hand?"

If they weren't announced, she'll introduce herself in that rush and Lance as well but otherwise doesn't bother.

  Lance, proud to be on the arm of Ballad greets her with a smile and a gallant bow.  "Flora has her own things to attend, and I think she's happy to see me in such excellent company."

  Next they are ushered into the Queen's presence, and Lance accompanies Ballad as she approaches Vialle, where he takes a knee before her.  He waits for Ballad to finish before adding, "At you service, your Majesty.  It is indeed an honor.  Thank you kindly for your invitation."

Vialle graciously greets each of you, because she is apparently incapable of doing anything non-graciously.

The three of you are seated, and servants come in and serve the first course-- a sort of field greens salad, except the cheese crumbled in it is unlike anything you've ever had before-- a sort of blue cheddar, but more buttery than that sounds-- and the dandilion-like things are orange and there are seeds that you can't identify too, but they're yummy, like they were soaked in wine or something, but natural, like they just taste that way. The dressing is like a sort of blueberry vinaigrette? But not? Boysenberry? Something Not From Where You Come From, for sure.

"Tell me about yourselves," Vialle invites. "Unless you're not comfortable doing that, in which case, tell me your thoughts about Amber, be they of the castle, the city, or the world..."

  Lance digs into the first course with gusto.  It is wonderful, and he says so.  When Vialle asks them to tell her about themselves, Lance gives Ballad a grin.

  "Ladies first, Ballad." he says gallantly, then hanging on her every word as he finishes his salad.

Ballad is very hungry now, the silver apple she ate from the drowned moon’s marsh and the coffee and snack she allowed herself in the city being insufficient. She gives the servants who bring the first course an ardent look, the of look kind to make one feel swoony, make one’s knees go jelly, one’s heart go kerthump — and thanks them in a husky voice. Then she digs right in! Happy. Food!

But, look. She’s an extrovert, and when the conversation ball is tossed her way, she picks it up. “Thank you, Lance. Aunt Vialle, what would you like to know about us?” Ballad is all vibrant goodnature, an undercurrent of gladness (food! food and company!) running beneath. “Or if you don’t know where to begin, why! Please begin with telling us about yourself, and I’ll use that as a model to spin you a tale or three. I like to get to know people, to hear what they think about themselves--there’s a small soemthing about me! My thoughts on the castle... I haven’t had a chance to converse yet with many, but Trent, one of the dungeon’s guards, is a treasure.”

Yes. She'll throw Trent some good word of mouth. Sorry, Lawrence. Ballad wants to keep you to herself for now.

  When Lance's turn comes around he says, "Well, I grew up on Earth, in New York City.  I was raised in an orphanage.  Mom said she did that to hide me from any that might try to do me harm.  I became enamored of fencing and sword fighting, and spent my time getting pretty good at it.  Found my way into the renn-faire circuit, and doing some training and fight choreography for Hollywood.  Mom found me just last night while some grey skinned alien thing was trying to murder me, and brought me here."

  Lance smiles, breaks a roll in half, and adds "Since then Flora took me on a quick tour of the castle, we met Ballad in the dungeons, and we three did a little sightseeing and shopping in the city.  It's amazing, beautiful, breathtakingly wonderful....all of it!  What can I say other than that since coming to Amber I've fallen in love."

  He throws a quick glance at Ballad as he says the last.

"Oh? And why is he a treasure?"




This makes Vialle a little sad. "The Black Road War, and the harm that Brand did Martin, did indeed cause..."

She pauses. "But you are very new to Amber-- none newer, really, I suppose. Are any of the three things I just named unknown to you...? Or do you already have a grasp of such things...?"




Vialle nods. "In your blood, naturally, as a grandson of Oberon."





"Ah. Yes. The gray men. Thank goodness that they did not succeed."




Vialle cannot possibly catch the quick glance, and yet there is something about her face and mouth that seems to have picked up on the implication anyway, presumably hearing something in the way Lance said what he said, because there's a tiny smile that hovers as if waiting in the wings, but which doesn't quite become visible. "...Ah. Yes. Many in the Golden Circle think of Amber as a place where-- with certain huge exceptions-- things seldom change, for many years and decades if not for centuries or more. But the truth is that Amber is a place where can be found... a great deal of vitality and energy."

And she moves her head just a teeny, tiny bit toward Ballad.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:45, Fri 16 Oct 2020.

  "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of the Black Road War, or Brand, or Martin.  The only things I know about Amber and our family are what I've seen today.  I have to confess near total ignorance on who my relatives are.   Mom mentioned something about some infighting that had taken place in the family some years back, but she didn't elaborate on any of it.  The only thing she told me that it was very bad and if put between any relatives' differing opinions to defer to the wishes of King Random.  Seemed like excellent advice, so I swore fealty to him when I met him earlier in the library.  If you'd like, I'll do the same with you, Your Majesty." Lance say earnestly.

Vialle smiles. "The king and I appreciate your trust, Lance." She turns and faces Ballad. "Ballad, what about you? Would you be able to give your cousin a brief history lesson, or shall I lecture for a class of two?"

Of Trent, Ballad merely says, smiling so's her dimple appears (and certainly, Vialle can hear the change in Ballad's voice. Ballad is expressive in all senses, not merely visual), "He's very nice and very helpful and is very dedicated."

Eat eat ea--oh. When Vialle asks Ballad whether she might give the history lesson, Ballad takes a sip of whatever's in her cup, and says, "Certainly, Aunt. But stand ready to sweep in with more detail, if you will. I may have things wrong, and my biases will show, although I'm happy to have them challenged!"

She sounds honest, too. Ballad regards Lance thoughtfully, before beginning.

“Brand is our dead uncle. He was temperamental, brilliant, and — unhappily for his siblings and the whole wide play of shadow — unfamiliar with the phrase ‘too far.’ Or if he was familiar, he just didn’t choose to care.

"Martin is our cousin. He’s Uncle Random’s kid by Princess Morganthe of Rebma. Rebma is the city below the waves, Amber’s closest rival power. As soon as Mars could, he walked the Pattern and disappeared into Shadow. You’ll see, Lance. Shadow is a beguilement. Especially when you’ve just begun walking through it. There’s so much! But I digress."

Ballad sounds inclined to be fond of Martin and ardent when she says how Shadow is a beguilement.

“The Black Road War is the result of a clusterfork of family intrigue, worthy of at least a five-volume set of history. Grandfather abandoned his throne without a word leaving no structure in place for succession, so Uncle Eric stepped into the role of Regent—and briefly King—supported by my Dad, Uncle Caine, Uncle Gérard—for most of the time—and your mother, too. But we are blessed with numerous uncles and aunts, and other factions popped up, like mushrooms on a dead thing. Brand was at first part of one of these, but he struck off on his own—that whole issue he had with ‘too far.’”

“The Black Road cut through all Shadow, slicing inexorably toward Amber from Amber’s ancient enemy—the Courts of Chaos, which wait beyond Shadow. And strange, eldritch creatures travelled the Black Road, monsters and beasts and fell armies. The Black Road caused injury wherever it passed. If you were unlucky enough to live near the Black Road, you bet your last hope it was awful. And the Black Road came into existence because... well, to be honest," and here Ballad smiles, a sizzle-spark of a thing, only touched with self-awareness. "I’m not completely sure. Something Brand did to Martin, using Martin’s blood, which damaged things. And maybe a blood curse spoken by another relation of ours helped speed it along. Eric died fighting for Amber. He was succeeded by Uncle Corwin, who oversaw efforts by most of our aunts and uncles to save Amber and shadow, although by that time I believe some were working in Shadow toward similar ends. I know Dad kept busy.”

“Brand is responsible for our Aunt Deirdre’s death. Uncle Caine, who truly was the most loyal, the most ruthlessly courageous of our uncles, slew Brand. Grandfather died trying to fix what Brand had done—his funeral procession crossed all of Shadow, to the very edge of the Abyss, and all Shadow trembled." (She's a raconteur, a storyteller. A piece of charisma. She can't help but embroider the tale to better suit a telling. Her description of Caine is earnest.) "And then the Unicorn came mincing out of the Abyss, the symbol of Amber’s leadership dangling from her shining horn, and she knelt before Uncle Random and so Uncle Random was named King of Amber.”

A pause.

"Aunt Vialle, anything I didn't get right? Or anything you'd like to add? You were more in the middle of things than I was, weren't you? You and Uncle Random.

"Well, there are others," Vialle gently corrects. "Caine, for example, and Eric, for another, and Osric and Finndo, if one wanted to go very, very far back. But go on..."




"--Ah..." says Vialle. "Another small clarification: You are right that the Courts of Chaos were, and are, Amber's ancient enemy. But I feel it should be made clear that no one at the time knew that, save Dworkin and Oberon. It came as a huge shock to Random and his siblings that anyone else could move through Shadows in any fashion remotely like their own. They had no idea, at the time, that the Courts existed."





"Ye-es," says Vialle. "Brand went to the center of the Pattern, called Martin on a card that Brand had drawn of Martin, and then stabbed Martin that way, instead of just taking his hand and bringing him through. Getting family blood on the Pattern damaged it... and drove Dworkin somewhat mad... In any event, what happened to Martin started leading to many of the royal family who had children hiding them away..."




"More, yes. Although I didn't enter into things, as such, until Eric was dead. Although Random did walk the Pattern to try to kill Eric for blinding Corwin, and he was captured. I asked to join my husband in his captivity, and was allowed to do so. But-- save for what Random told me of his family-- I was not truly 'in the middle' of very much at all until the Unicorn chose Random, and I became queen."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:31, Mon 19 Oct 2020.

  Lance takes all this new information in, wide-eyed and blinking at the rather massive implications of it all.  It was more than just some nasty family infighting, as Flora had made it seem.

  "Wow!  That's a lot of stuff to take in.  Now forgive me if my questions are foolish, but is this Black Road thing still a threat?  What happened to these Courts of Chaos people, and are they still a threat we have to be concerned with?  Also, who all are the rest of our relatives?  My mom didn't have a lot of time to teach me all this, what with the stab wounds and dumping the body and getting me here while trying to not have me freak out."

“Let’s consider,” Ballad muses. “I'll let Aunt Vialle take the question about Chaos, as what I know of it would fill a thimble and I've already used up most of that thimble-full. But I can try and name our kin for you.

"The living relations are Fiona, Llewella, Benedict, Corwin, Bleys, Gérard, Dad of course, Random. Dara. Our generation includes Martin, Merlin, Rinaldo, and anybody else who has been kept in the shadows. I feel as if I’m forgetting some names.”

Nonchalant interest when she mentions Benedict, Corwin, Gérard; keen interest when she mentions Fiona, Llewella, Bleys, Merlin; a wary warmth for Random, fondness for Martin, and she says Rinaldo carefully, as if it were an eggshell between her teeth she must not break.

“The dead are Oberon, and I’m afraid I can’t remember your grandmother’s name but I believe she’s deceased. As Aunt Vialle mentioned, Finndo and Osric died long ago. Brand, Eric, and Deirdre all perished during the Black Road War." Brief pause. "And Caine was killed more recently.”

"It is still a threat, but the forces of the Courts of Chaos have refrained from using it to trouble Amber or the Golden Circle... although it remains to be seen if this business with the gray men is the start of trouble from that quarter."



"A truce was declared. They may be taking steps to break it, or they may not, and the trouble may come from some new quarter."



"...Correct," says Vialle.

  "So, when you say that Uncle Caine was killed more recently, I take it this wasn't some form of accidental death?  Did the grey men get him?" Lance asks, rubbing his belly, thinking of the wound he had recieved.  It was still a little tender, but it seemed to have closed up nicely.  Hearing how blood on the pattern could cause damage, he certainly didn't want to risk anything catastrophic in the morning.

Vialle sighs. "...No. It was more bad feeling in the family, although... arguably understandable. Rinaldo is the son of Brand, and was hidden away-- like yourself, but for a different reason-- until he reached adulthood. Then, Rinaldo killed the man who had slain his father-- namely Caine. Everyone was rather unhappy about it, but it fulfilled old rules about blood vendettas. The fact that Caine had killed Brand, who had-- to some degree-- helped the Chaosites to attack Amber-- Brand, who himself, as his final act, murdered Deirdre-- Brand, who committed who knows how many other acts of treason against Amber-- well, none of it exactly addressed what was the main issue in Rinaldo's mind, which was that he'd killed the man who killed his father... which was perfectly true."

  Lance puts down his salad fork.  It had been delicious, and he was looking forward to the next course.

  Brows furrowed he says, "Well, that might be a tradition, but it doesn't really leave the family in a good spot, does it?  I mean, Brand killed Dierdre, Caine killed Brand, Rinaldo killed Caine...where does it end?  Now if Caine has a child hidden away somewhere and that child kills Rinaldo, well, it just goes on and on, right?  I should think that such things would be outlawed, capital offense kind of thing so that it doesn't just perpetuate itself?"

  Taking a sip of water he adds, "I mean, I get it.  If someone hurts or kills someone I care for, I'd be angry.  Maybe even angry to kill.  I'd expect to hang for it though if I followed through on it, not be excused."

Vialle sighs. "You're correct in your observations, but the situation was additionally complicated by two things: First, Rinaldo was and is the reigning monarch, through his mother's side, of Kashfa, a small Shadow kingdom that is nonetheless a recent part of the Golden Circle... so this was quite the diplomatic incident, and had the potential to get worse. The second complication was that Rinaldo... did quite a masterful bit of plea-bargaining, helping Random and Amber in the struggles they were having at the time... which, itself, were even more complicated, involving the conflict between Amber and Chaos... not, precisely, between the residents of the Courts of Chaos, but the Pattern and the Unicorn versus the Logrus and the Serpent, which are their respective opposing forces in Chaos... Is it complicated enough for you yet...?"

  Lance chuckles, "You almost make it sound as if the Pattern were sentient...wait..is it?"

"For a few weeks, there were signs that this could be true. Merlin, Corwin's son, reported even more evidence that this might be so... There are some who find it hard to believe." Vialle makes a face that's hard to read. "Personally, I am not among their number."

  It was food for thought.  He would have to see what tomorrow brought. "So, my mom thinks that I should walk the line of the Pattern tomorrow.  Something about doing so allowing me to move through shadows.  I have to admit it makes me a little uneasy.  She said that people have died doing it.  Anyone have any tips, because, well, I'd rather not die and all that."

"Not being of the line of Oberon, I have never walked the Pattern," says Vialle. "Ballad? Have you walked it? If so, any advice...?"

“Don’t turn back, don’t stray from the path, and don’t be afraid of a few sparks,” Ballad says. A romantic, but make it pragmatic, at least when she's advising others. “Don’t ask the Pattern to do with you what it will. Sentient or not, there’s no reason to expect it has your best interests in mind. Use the facilities first. Be at your full strength. It’s an ordeal and it’s always good practice to respect an ordeal, but let your heart be easy. As long as you can put one foot in front of the other, you’ll do just dandy, and afterward you'll have more of wonder and self-reliance.” Her eyes dance, and it wouldn't be right to say she's reverent; she is absolutely not. But if Ballad worships anything besides thrills and experience, it's wonder and independence.

A beat.

"Aunt Vialle, what kind of person is Rinaldo? I'd like very much to meet him. And all my relations. But especially the ones who've already been attacked by the grey men and survived. I'm glad," and she seems to be addressing this part to both Vialle and Lance, "the grey men attacked, since it shook me out of secrecy, and so I get the pleasure of you two and this meal, but I can't stop myself wondering if anybody managed to learn anything from their attackers."

"And I'm hoping to visit Rebma. I've always wanted to, since I first learned about it. Do you ever visit? Do you have any tips for how to behave as a visitor?"

"...Charming, above all. Very possibly the most charming person you'll ever meet-- and I expect you to live for thousands of years, or possibly many more than 'thousands.' Rinaldo is amazingly likable. Also clever and manipulative-- and I don't think he'd deny any of those... because he's too charming to deny them. He might not even deny 'conniving,' although he'd downplay it-- no, he'd convince you that 'conniving' is a virtue by the time he was done talking. If there's nothing that Rinaldo wants from you, he's simply a pleasant, charming, gracious, very casually friendly man... although he'll likely talk to you much more if there is something he wants from you. ...Does this help you form a picture...?"



"I don't go back to Rebma often. As for tips for how to behave... Mm, just try to accept that it's a city filled with people, and not the most fantastic, incredibly strange place you've ever been, and that you can hardly believe it exists... It rather marks one as a tourist."

  Ballads advice is comforting, as is her very presence.  It had been a whirlwind of a day. Being attacked, meeting his mother, learning of Amber's existence, suddenly having extended family, many of which sounded wholly dreadful.  And there amid it all was Ballad, so radiant, so beautiful, so amazing.

 "Rebma?  Where's Rebma?" asks Lance, allowing his lack of knowledge to show.

"The gateway to Rebma starts just a few miles from here, at a certain spot on the beach... Rebma is the literal reflection of Amber, a magical mer-kingdom beneath the sea, where the water is breathable and doesn't ruin paper (though everything is quite moist). The castle and city of Rebma look just like the castle and city of Amber, but mirror-imaged. The Pattern below Rebma's castle is just like the one here, but mirror-reversed, although it still works in the exact same way. The layout of the streets of the city of Rebma is the same as here, only backwards, and so on. One of the royals lives there, named Llewella. She doesn't like to interact with the royal family much, but everyone respects that, just as they respect Benedict's incredibly strong aversion to having anything to do with the succession of Amber's crown. Not that that's an issue anymore, with the Unicorn choosing Random."

By now, the main course is served-- some sort of roasted bird, squab or pigeon or something, with a vaguely apricot sauce and a hearty dark bread and honey-butter.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:34, Fri 30 Oct 2020.

  The food is of course delicious, and for the first minute or two there is naught but sounds of satisfied eating.  Finally Lance says, "This is wonderful.  So tasty!  I've dined in some wonderful restaurants over the last ten years, but this is just amazing."

  More eating.

  "So, I suppose I should ask...as members of the royal family, do we get specific responsibilities assigned to us, or is it more of the following of our whims kind of thing so long as we don't do anything to tarnish the family image?"

"No. The king rules. He may appoint family members to positions... but Random doesn't really do that unless the person is willing. The precedent is Oberon. Gerard-- like his brother Caine, when he was alive-- is in charge of Amber's navy, because those two family members did, and do, love the sea anyway. Julian guards the forests of Arden, because that's just in his nature anyway. Fiona is in charge of magical issues because she's got the most talent with such things, with Bleys presumed dead and Dworkin going wherever and whenever he chooses, and doing whatever he feels like doing at those places and times. To put it another way, if there's a job you feel like doing that no one else is currently doing, it'll probably be yours, if Random doesn't think it's too dangerous, or barring some other reasonable objection... So to respond to the final part of your question, yes, it's rather up to you, as long as you don't cause trouble with Amber's diplomatic relations in the Golden Circle."

“You’ve conjured him admirably,” Ballad tells Vialle after the queen describes Rinaldo. With a soft quirk of her lips, the suggestion of a smile in her voice and about the cant of her eyebrows, "And I feel better prepared to meet him."

And on the subject of Rebma, Ballad absorbs Vialle's advice thoughtfully, but doesn't expand on Rebma's charms to Lance. Vialle would know better. Ballad especially likes the brown bread and honey butter, tearing a piece of bread in twain and breathing in the fragrance of it. Anything can be an experience, if you give it attention and prepare to delight in it, see.

"And Uncle Random has your oath; I'm certain he will remember it if there's anything specific he wishes of you. Did you have very many responsibilities back on Earth, Lance?" Ballad asks, curiously.

But because that darned curiosity is unrelenting, because so is liveliness, Ballad also asks: "And say, Aunt Vialle, as far as diplomatic relations in the Golden Circle go, is there anything particularly tender right now? And here we've been talking about our selves and our blood kin an awful lot. What about you, Aunt--what do you like to do with your time? What's your great love?"

"Things are usually a little prickly with Kashfa and Weirmonken, but mostly everyone's being on good behavior now that this new crisis with the gray men is happening."

"As for myself, I enjoy spending time with my husband, and when he's busy, I do my art. The sculptures you see are all mine."

  At Ballad's question, Lance chuckles and shakes his head.  "I didn't have any real responsibilities at all back on Earth, just working more often than not.  Didn't even have a house, just a pickup truck with a little camper that I towed around from place to place.  That was my home and I travelled to different fairs and out to Hollywood mostly."

  He looks a little bit sad.  "It was a life without responsibility, but also without roots or anyone to really care about.  Sure, I could do what I wanted, when I wanted...but there was nobody to share it with.  Sometimes I felt like a tumbleweed." Lance brightens again, "But hopefully all that is changing."

  The bird and the bread are wonderful, and while Lance has never been a big sauce guy he tries it.  Finding it delightful, he digs in while listening to the rest of the conversation.


  When Vialle mentions the sculptures, Lance says, "They're really amazing!  Wayy better than the Oberon's head planter I bought in the market today!"

“Is the crisis common knowledge in the Golden Circle then?” Ballad (muses) asks, and then grins: “Or do you mean Oberon’s brood are all on good behavior? To hear Dad tell it, he’s always on good behavior.” Ballad sounds tolerant of this parental myth story, although there's a quiet inhale after, pensive.

Lance’s admission now combined with his earlier wishfulness over Paris paints a picture of his life which Ballad considers for a moment. The young Amberite is genuinely interested in other people’s lives; usually has a knack of listening, just so, that can make people feel interesting. And here she is at her mellowest, most good-natured: “Well, Lance. You’ll never be rid of us now you’ve been brought out of the shadows. I hope you'll consider your life shared. Unless you’d rather not. Then just consider yourself known. A part of something.”





"Who taught you to sculpt?" she asks, and then adds laughingly, "And they are much more skilled, but the planter was a worthy find for our competition! Have you ever acted, Aunt? We were talking about putting up a play Lance knows from Earth called A Midsummer Night's Dream."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:22, Wed 11 Nov 2020.

<quote Ballad>

Lance’s admission now combined with his earlier wishfulness over Paris paints a picture of his life which Ballad considers for a moment. The young Amberite is genuinely interested in other people’s lives; usually has a knack of listening, just so, that can make people feel interesting. And here she is at her mellowest, most good-natured: “Well, Lance. You’ll never be rid of us now you’ve been brought out of the shadows. I hope you'll consider your life shared. Unless you’d rather not. Then just consider yourself known. A part of something.”

<quote>

  Lance smiles. "Hmm.  Never be rid of you.  I rather like the sound of that.  I'll take that as a promise and hold you to it, Ballad."


  Turning to Vialle he says, "I think Ballad would be a wonderful subject if you would consider sculpting her someday, your Majesty.  Her beauty and your amazing talent would make for a most impressive combination."

"They're aware... that there seems to be a threat, and that Amber doesn't like it. After Rinaldo was attacked, we couldn't really keep it a secret... And worse, Martin was attacked in the Shadow called Anglesey, and they like to... exchange news with other Golden Circle members."




"I studied under sculptors in Rebma. And no, I have never acted..."

"As for Ballad, yes, I'm sure she's beautiful... but could she sit still long enough...?" The smile accompanying this question shows that it is clearly meant as a gentle tease (okay, and also a little observation about Ballad's nature).

“Anglesey,” Ballad echoes. “What’s their Jack Scratch bargain?” Jack Scratch bargain is clearly, from tone, slang for deal — what’s their deal? — from whatever shadows Ballad has most recently spent her time. “Are they a monarchy along Amber and Rebma’s lines or something different?” Mental note: more information to glean from the library tonight. She sounds sympathetic enough for folk music when she adds: "Was Rinaldo's attack, and Martin's, so public?"

Ballad pauses just after forking (or knifing; who’s to say what table manners are? Vialle, that’s who) the last sliver of meat on her plate because that’s when Lance says he’ll take that as a promise and hold Ballad to it. Her smile simmers down to an edge of radiance (go ahead, careful of fingers and hearts), and she sketches a gracious little gesture in reply. But then her breath catches and her eyes widen when Lance suggests Vialle sculpt her. Not because she’s shy about the compliment. Ballad’s self esteem is—shall we say—healthy. But because—well, she couldn’t tell you why if you asked her!

She pushes her plate away to indicate that she is finished with it, and should there be servants in attendance ready to come forward and refill her cup and she covers it with her hand. Vialle's response causes Ballad to laugh all match-struck light, eyes dancing, a dimple in one cheek.

"Very gallant, Lance ab Flora! And Aunt, I'd sit still if you asked it of me, or if I was properly dared to do it. Dare anything, eh? Of course I'd be curious to view what you made of me, so I'm yours if you wish it. But on the subject of acting, would you? Lance, is there a part for Aunt Vialle?"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:34, Wed 11 Nov 2020.

"Many Shadows reflect Amber in a way one can recognize. Some seem to specifically put one in mind of Amber's unique relationship with Rebma. Anglesey, I am told, is one of these-- a beautiful city on an island, but then it outgrew its island, and kept going. Soaring towers start underwater, grow up past the canals and suspended roads and walkways, and reach elegantly toward the sky. With a love of the arts and culture, this is arguably the most civilized city of the Golden Circle-- after Amber, of course. There is a not insignificant population of mer-people there, as well."





"Yes, apparently, especially Martin's."




"...I might be persuaded to attempt acting, under the right circumstances." She sighs. "If this strange and frightening business with the gray men could only end safely, a celebratory performance of a play might strike a positive note... is the play more of a comedy, or more of a tragedy...?"


As the diners finish their dinner, a dessert course is brought-- a small sort of cake with a few small mint leaves on top, with a dish of something vaguely like ice cream, but not actually cold.

The cake is a little like what Lance might think of as a Napoleon, but with a vague, mild, coffee-like flavor. The dish of not-ice-cream, when tried, seems like a cross between ice cream (that isn't cold) and plum pudding, except heavier on the rum, lighter on the plum, and with more cinnamon...

Each is super-delicious.

Together, the combination is absurdly, incredibly delicious, the flavors of one falling all over and into and dancing around with the sweet flavors of the other with each alternating bite.

“What a place that sounds like! And they’re gossips, too.” Ballad sounds meditative... and also, clearly, as if another place to visit is being put on her never ending list. It’s a good thing that, barring murder, she’s likely to live for so many years. “Who’s in charge of Anglesey? Do they have an ambassador here at court? I may keep an eye out.”

Read also: If a certain Golden Circle diplomat exists, if Ballad has anything to say about the matter, they absolutely have a visit in their future.



Some of Ballad's bon vivance is sheathed. “Please don’t leave us with just that. What happened? My own tete-a-tete was not at all public.”



Ballad claps. Exuberance back, baby. "Hurrah!"



This Ballad leaves for Lance to answer, and is happy to do it, as it gives her time to devote herself to the glorious, decadent, absurdly incredibly delicious ohdeargoshsweettoothispleased dessert. The first bite gets a very small, very wistful noise, because it's the kind of treat which lends itself to a perfect moment. OOC: And Ballad's player is super hungry, so is living vicariously. Dang, GM. Sounds so good.

"They don't keep an ambassador here. They send one, sometimes, but there's not one from there visiting here right now. The Shadow is run by a 'council' ...learned scholars, artisans, that sort of thing..."





"It's my understanding that he was walking down the street in broad daylight when a couple of gray men jumped out and attacked him... City guards helped to intervene, and the gray men were killed... which often happens, because it's apparently very hard to just knock them out..."

  When asked about the play, Lance replies, "Oh, it's a comedy of errors, but not quite a farce.  There are parts within, both great and small.  I'm sure we could find one you would like.  There is a part for a queen, which you  are most nobly suited for, but if you would like an escape from that role for a bit, perhaps one of the Faeries or one of the players within the play."

  The talk about the grey men and the attacks is a bit more sobering.

  "I wonder.  If the Pattern is super sentient, might it have some knowledge as to the origin of the Grey Men?  If so, tomorrow might present an opportunity to find them and whomever is behind the attacks.  If I understand correctly, I can ask it to send me anywhere once I make it to the center, right?"

Uh oh. A reckless plan! Ballad's favorite, and she's already been don't you try it, young lady'd once today, so there's a certain amount of appeal here. Still. Ballad may be a devotee of just do it, but she's also against poorly planned reckless plans, and she's double against poor Lance immediately getting in over his head.

So her response is measured: “Yes. ‘By an act of will,’ like your mom said. Once at the center you can go instantly to any desired location; it helps to hold it clearly in your mind. So what would you hold clearly in your mind? You might say 'if the Pattern's sentient,'" Ballad sounds not doubtful per se but very neutral at the least and quite unwilling to concede that sentience matters in this case. "'I'll just ask it to send me where it knows the gray men are from,' but I don't think it works that way. And if it does, well, in my experience Lance power isn't kind and you shouldn't trust your whole self to it without very clear guidelines being laid down in advance. You don't want to be at the mercy of something which has none. Especially when you are exhausted from an ordeal, full of power you do not know how to use.”
This message was last edited by the player at 03:36, Thu 12 Nov 2020.

"Oh, I don't know. If she's not a villainous queen, I think it might be appropriate, really..." It seems clear that Vialle is still thinking of the proposed play as a symbolic work of art commenting on the political state of things... Guess she'll have to have someone read it to her...






Vialle is rather alarmed, but she turns her face toward Ballad to see if Ballad will show sense, or double down on this dangerous idea.





Vialle is slightly mollified. "I... Lance, there is logic in Ballad's reasoning. The Pattern is not remotely human. I also feel that the Unicorn is beneficent-- I have no such illusions about the Pattern. Please do not trust the Pattern to not put you in a situation from which you can't escape. What if the gray men come from some strange Shadow where the family cards don't work? Or where Shadowwalking itself doesn't work-- or is very difficult? And you would have had no practice in doing it at all...?!" The look on her face says Do I need to report to Random how reckless this young man is...?

  "Of course you are both correct." says Lance with a slight blush, "I'm sorry.  I was just trying to come up with some ideas and this is all quite new to me so of course I'll defer to your council and not try anything like that."

  Lance focuses more on the lovely desert, and opts to try to listen more than speak, not wanting to put his foot in his mouth further.  He does have one question though.

  "Ballad, when you walked the Pattern, where did you have it send you?"

Under the table Ballad gently bumps her leg against Lance’s. Meant to be an expression of comfort or sympathy or a promise of intercession. She is readied to try and smooth things over, like, because that do I need to tell Random expression begs an answer. The answer is no. Nope. Not even a little.

Lance's question.

“I meant to go to Dad’s autumn lodge,” Ballad says, the same wistfulness she had back in the Pattern Room when they first spoke of adventure and walking the pattern. Perhaps because it is one of the places she regards as home, or almost home; the smell of the leaf-litter, the cold bite in the air, the leaves all a rattle of golds from brassy to honey to fine as the Sun. “We’d arranged it beforehand, down to the very room. He had me describe it aloud before I left him. But that’s not where I went.” Here the suggestion of a dimple: mischief, a remembered gamble; her lashes fall low, and she considers her hand on her spoon before her gaze flicks (bright) back up to Lance and Vialle. “I’ll tell you where I went in greater detail another night, if you like. There was a fountain with very cold, clear water. It was in a strange place. And I went there because I let myself be distracted by a story." Brief pause. "Where did your mom send herself? You should ask. Ask Uncle Random, too! My advice is just think where you want to be right after you walk. Maybe bed. I think the next time I walk a Pattern, I might go straight to a bed. A nice fluffy goosedown bed, light as a cloud, fresh-warmed by sunlight." There: she is absolutely joking.

This isn't a joke: "You said you're walking right after a hearty breakfast, didn't you? Wouldja like me to pact to find you before you do the thing, to wish you luck?"

  "I'd love that, Ballad." he replies, barely containing that megawatt smile of his.

  "I don't really know all that many places to go, so I probably won't go very far.  I don't want to make a journey back to Earth yet.  Too much to explore here first.  Still so much to learn.  Rebma, Arden...all these places that sound amazing."

Servants come and clear away any dishes that are empty...

(One may order coffee, if one wishes... the Shadow of Tanus exports roasts that are both higher-than-average-, medium-, and very low-caffeine...)
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:16, Fri 13 Nov 2020.

Ballad is tempted by but politely refuses the offer of coffee. Although in the normal way, she’d linger with this company late into the evening, she has Things Still To Do before her head hits her pillow. Tonight she has plans for even her dreams. Once the plates are cleared, she echoes Lance's (what a beauty he is!) smile.

"Then I will find you," declares she. "And if I don't, send a page to find me." Ballad studies Vialle's face, then says, "Aunt Vialle, if you don't mind terribly, I should excuse myself now or I will be tempted to keep you both up, talking until the sun blows out the stars." A romantic nature does indeed occasionally lend itself to poetic turns of phrase. Briefest of tiniest of little bitty infinitessimal pauses. "But first may I ask, that is... Will you hear a request?"

Vialle gives a small nod. "I shall..." She's definitely extra-in-queen-mode, right now...

Vialle can’t observe Ballad’s posture: the invitation it is; the gracious, careless hope of it — here as she turns her knees toward the queen and clasps her fingers together; the study she makes of the queen in her extra-queenliness-mode. Hear the good humor, a bright thread in her steady voice.

“Can we do this again soon? Dinner or tea at your convenience. While I'm in residence, I want things to anticipate.”

Vialle raises one eyebrow (though just barely). "Ballad, there is nothing wrong with that request... except that it's a bit hard for me to imagine you sitting still in one Shadow for that long, unless perhaps you were running things as queen yourself-- I can imagine that keeping you occupied for a few weeks before you got bored. Shall we tentatively schedule tea, in two or three days... Or should we make it a week or two, since that would give you time to go off and do things and then come back and tell me about them...?"

“Let’s say a week, Aunt Vialle, and then again the week after that? Those seem good dates to me. Is there any particular story you'd like me to bring you?” Ballad’s eyes dance like the devil in new shoes at Vialle’s assessment and she glances at Lance, briefly, in a share the moment sort of way, and although she doesn’t laugh there’s the promise of laughter in her voice like a silver lining on clouds, the barest hint of what is bright. “Really I think I look as much forward to defying your imagination as I do embodying it, for I find it difficult to imagine getting bored of you, Aunt, or Uncle Random. Thank you for sharing this meal." She includes Lance in this again, sincere and bright. "Both of you." Mischief managed, Ballad pushes the chair back, standing to take her leave, unless of course Vialle bids her stay.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Sun 15 Nov 2020.

  Ballad's smile leaves Lance starry-eyed, and for a moment he forgets to breathe. "I shall make sure that I am easy to find in the morning."
he manages.

  As tempting as it would be to linger over coffee and chat with the Queen, he had always been taught by the nuns at the orphanage to never overstay his welcome, and to see when a gathering is breaking up that he's not the last one to leave.  Unless of course, Vialle bids him to stay.

  "Aunt Vialle, I cannot thank you enough for including me in this most enchanting dinner and gifting me with the chance to get to know you, but I too should find my way to a soft bed.  Tomorrow is going to be a big day, after all, and it would be rude of me to keep you indulging  me in my myriad of questions into the late hours."

  Lance stands.

  "May I offer escort to either or both of you ladies from here?  Not that either of you has need of it, I'm sure, but it's the gallant thing to do and I'm sure my mother would be cross with me for not doing so."

“I’ll decline this once,” Ballad tells Lance, then adds, nonchalantly gracious, "but commend your skills as an escort to our aunt." Her attention is still of course mostly belonging to the living people in the room, but one of the abstract sculptures has caught her eye and she wonders at it.

"I'm confident that any story that you bring me will be... engaging, Ballad."



"Certainly."




"You are not rude; I understand perfectly," she says graciously.



"No, I'm fine. As long as no furniture is moved, I can make my way around the castle just based on memory of where things are."

As Ballad gets ready to leave, she notes a bust of Random. It's excellently done, and somehow simultaneously seems to accurately look like Random as well as show sides of him that aren't normally noticeable-- a softer, deeply loving side; a melancholy, regretful aspect; a firm, regal, kingly nature. It's kind of miraculous how all these are on display at the same time-- is this just craft... or is it magic? Can Vialle do any magic? What does Ballad really know about what Vialle is capable of, truly?
This message was last edited by the player at 01:28, Wed 18 Nov 2020.

"I didn't know all I wanted was to inspire your confidence until this moment! Good night, Aunt, good night Lance. Tomorrow!" Ballad says with a smile, drawing her gaze away from the sculpture. There are many questions she expects to spend years learning the answers to, but Ballad is a hopeful creature, and her romantic heart thoroughly believes in the uncovering of all Mysteries, and is also pleased to see proof that Vialle feels for Random as Random (seems) to feel for Vialle. There's a promise in the tomorrow.

If there's a trick to dramatic entrances (Ballad certainly has made a few), but there's also a trick to the exit: observe. It involves looking always forward, never back.

  "Good night then, Aunt Vialle.  Goodnight Ballad, until tomorrow." Lance, following Ballad's lead makes his way to the door and out, watching his cousin depart as she goes her own way.

  Ahh, if only I were escorting her unto the rising of the sun, but then I'd be exhausted before the Grand Design.  Thinks Lance, playing back each bit of the dinner conversation within his head. He stops in his tracks when he reaches Vialle's final comment..."No, I'm fine. As long as no furniture is moved, I can make my way around the castle just based on memory of where things are."  She is blind??  Her poise and grace had more than adequately hidden that fact from him throughout dinner  Amazing!

  Lost in thought, Lance has managed to lose his way within the castle's still unfamiliar passages.  With a shrug he continues to meander, hoping to find his room on his own without having to ask anyone.  There are fewer servants about this time of night, but he did pass one or two.  He decides to give himself another half an hour before he'd ask for assistance in finding his way.

  Oh, Ballad....whatever am I to do about you?  My head tells me no, but my heart wants what it wants, and that is thee!  Cousins, sharing a grandfather's blood, yet of different grandmothers.  Did that make us second cousins, or first cousins once removed, or something else?  Dost thou feel for me what I do for thee, or is it just wishful thinking overlaying my vision with what I wish it to be?

And the next day, a little earlier than three...

Ballad uses the space going from ride with an active (victory!) Jon to play-reading (she hopes) with a restful Lance to explore a little. There’s a window; she gazes out it, people watching or bird watching. There’s a tapestry; she studies it, hands clasped behind her back, chin lofted. What’s this? What’s that? Does the floor creak here? Is the floor good for sliding on here? That’s a nice rug. How many guards does she see? Let’s play a counting game. What's that? What's this?

If Lance didn't clearly tell her which room was his, she realizes this too late and asks around, going near where she found Lance and all the young Amberites the night before. Knock on this door, knock on that. Maybe he has helpfully left his door open? Either way, eventually Ballad wends her way to the door and raps her knuckles on it smartly, though not too too loudly.

If he's resting, why, let him rest.

  Upon hearing the knock, Lance sits bolt upright.  He had been daydreaming and fretting again on the couch and the sound startled him.

  He leaps over the back of the couch, not quite sticking the landing, and yells out, "Ow...a moment!  I'm on my way!"

  He stands, straightens himself, and opens the door.  It wasn't locked, despite Jade's warning to keep it so.

  So he stands there, gazing in awe and wonderment.

  She still came!!  Even after...

  Lance notices she is still in her same riding clothes, so perhaps she hadn't returned to her quarters.  Then he saw the scratch.  How could he not, so focused on looking at her he was.

  "Are you alright?  Your eye.." he asks, concerned.

There’s a certain something bemused about the curve of Ballad’s mouth when Lance opens the door and the suggestion of contained laughter in her eloquent eyes. Perhaps because of the sounds of chaos which just came from inside.

Yes: she does look fresh from the outdoors. She is still in the same clothing she wore riding, rakish coat unbuttoned, the pretty green tunic from breakfast and the black belt, etc., although her silvery gold messy braid-as-mohawk is a little more windswept. It's possible there's still a thorn branch here and there, a flower petal caught under her collar, and as he noted, a scant handful of already-healing scratches.

He mentions her eye and her eyebrows perk up. She touches her brow, looks at her fingertips, but there's nothing there, so she waves her hand dismissively. "A minor argument with an arbor. I wanted to ride one way, it wanted to be in the way... And so, as you see. Our argument resolved with some rumple on both sides, but I'm sure we'd be friends if I rode that way again." Pause. "Has your morning been restful? Do you feel like a cup full of hope, ready to meet with a bright future? Because I will say 'ow,'" she tries to mimic his voice, "did not sound particularly like the sounds of restfulness, Lance. Didja find the play in the library?"

  He smiles.  "I...I tripped over the couch on the way to the door.  Rest seems to be an elusive thing for me of late." he confesses, but continues  "The library did have a few copies, so I borrowed them all for us to save everyone the trip.  I did make sure to leave one reserved for the Queen, but I have the others.  But where are my manners?  Won't you come in, Ballad?"  he gestures stepping aside to allow her entry.

  "So, you just came from your ride?  That means you haven't been to your room yet, I suppose?
 I tried to leave you a copy in your room, but the maid wouldn't allow me entry.  They're very strict about privacy, it seems."

He smiles; her smile goes lopsided, brief appearance of dimple as he explains he tripped over the couch. Ballad likes to be amused, and she is in high spirits “Someone will have to read the play aloud to Aunt Vialle. You, perhaps? Or do you mean Uncle Random to read it to her? I wonder if he’d be game."

Lance steps aside, gesturing her in; Ballad offers Lance a carelessly gracious nod, tucks a loose stand of silvery gold behind her ear. A sympathetic warmth in her eyes, and perhaps, just maybe, a minor note of caution. "As long as you're not weary of your room. If you are, we can read outside. I prefer moonlight, but there's something about a golden afternoon, isn't there? The air all honey, sweet to the skin and the eye?"

If he indicates he's not tired of being in his room: Ballad saunters in. She's bright with curiosity, and about to ask more about Lance's library visit, when the rest of what Lance said catches up with her. She frowns, reflexively, at the maid wouldn't allow me entry.

"I'm glad to hear they are. I am a territorial monster about my room. Truly: you'd have needed a necklace of wolfsbane, silver nails, and garlic flowers to keep me from your throat." Bright-spark grin, and she is at least half-joking. "I did just come from my ride." She claps her hands together, fingertips meeting gently at the end, so what seems like an exuberant motion ends quiet as a secret. "Now, sit. You must be restful, and choose a restful scene for us to read. Did you do any other research in the library? Was Laurence there?"

  "I was told by Laurence that the Queen has an actress that reads to her.  He was very helpful.  Helped me select a book on Amber's history, and found me a copy of a book I've read a hundred times over."  The titles are sitting on a small table next to the couch.

  Lance shrugs and gestures across the room. "We could read here, or anywhere you'd prefer of course.  I have some wine, cheese and fruit if you'd care for a refreshment after your ride?"

  He waits to see if she expresses any preference to go elsewhere, and if not he leaves the door cracked to help her be at ease, then fetches two copies of the complete works of Shakespeare, pours the wine and pulls a coffee table close, placing the food platter upon it.

  "Oh yes, the maids are very strict about it, said they don't even have keys.  I was going to leave this for you, but instead had to settle for leaving a letter slipped beneath your door.  That they seem to be okay with."

  He sits down, flipping easily to the page.  He knew the book well.  As he does so, he says nonchalantly, "Page one thirty six, let us start at the beginning."  As he waits for her to find the page he remarks, "Our family tree it seems is rife with interesting tidbits.  Did you know that our cousin Rinaldo is married to a daughter of Oberon?"

  "Wait, not the beginning.  Let's you meet Robin Goodfellow, or Puck.  Page one seventy seven."

Ballad does not express a preference to go elsewhere. Indeed, Ballad shrugs her coat off and tosses it (reckless elegance) over the back of a chair or a table or some statue or some other thing that looks like a likely place to hang a coat (but is not necessarily for that purpose), and then claims the sinister side of the couch as her own. While Lance is settling everything, she looks at the books he brought from the library, playing the game of ha open this book what page is the most recently loved with the history book.

Once Lance has poured the wine, she reaches for her cup. “To locks and keys,” she says, mischief, “and visits with friends,” she ends, more solemnly, and takes a careful sip of the wine before setting it down and picking a piece of fruit. She settles the Complete Works of Shakespeare in her lap and turns to the suggested page, bowing her bright head over it, lashes low as she gives the scene a glance.

Her gaze flicks up at Rinaldo's name. "Oh? Well, I suppose when one's a king, one begins feeling matrimonial. That seems to be the general trend in this family. Were you looking up general family tree matters, then? Did you read anything interesting about your grandmother, or mine?"

She flips past the original page Lance quoted her to the real one, with Robin Goodfellow, Puck. Flip flip flip. There it is.

She puts on a brash, husky voice for Puck, all insinuation and a note of pompous bossy self-importance: "How now, spirit! whither wander you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:54, Tue 08 Dec 2020.

  Lance meets the toast with, "And to the written word."

"I wasn't digging for anything specific, really, just sort of skimming.  I did find that Jon and Ari are first cousins though, the rest of us are whatever the separation is with different grandmothers."

  Ballad does her Puck voice, and Lance croons, "Ooh, that's good.  I like that!"

  He reads the opposite part in a singsong falsetto,

"Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:
Our queen and all our elves come here anon."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:59, Tue 08 Dec 2020.

Ballad doesn’t seem very interested in the finer points of geneology, but she gives Lance’s information a nod, gratis for the share. She sucks the juice from her slice of fruit (whatever it is) while Lance singsong falsettos his way through the fairy’s speech, then eats what’s left before they get to her next line: “The king doth keep his revels here to-night,” says she, still husky and self-important. “Take heed,” Ballad reaches over and raps (gently) her knuckles against Lance’s forehead, like a school master taking an unwary student to task, “the queen come not within his sight; for Oberon is passing fell and wrath,” and here, she leans forward, trying on an air of sinister foreboding, eyes wide. There’s a brief pause as she juggles the book which begins to slide out of her lap, tries to figure out tone, and settles on Gossippy Gossip is Gossip for the lines about the changeling boy and what Oberon wants him for.

“And now,” said with gleeful satisfaction, “they never meet in grove or green, by fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,” and now her tone's like well these celebrities they're no better than they should be through the end of this Puck-speech, the hiding, the acorn caps.

Bright-eyed, expectant.

  Lance is amazed at how perfect the portrayal, how well Ballad seems to fit the role, and her performance draws from him a lip biting smile of wonder, making his next set of lines come forth with the zealousness and glee of the fae he is now playing, who has just unraveled the identity of whom that speaks before him.  He bounces up and down excitedly with the discovery, pointing a finger at Ballad as he does.

  “Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he?”
This message was last edited by the player at 06:37, Tue 08 Dec 2020.

Ballad clicks her tongue, buffs her nails, generally puts on an air of pleased with herself smugness. But she does rather lose the character at the line: ‘neighing in likeness of a filly foal,’ flicking a wide-eyed, wary look at Lance, to see whether he knows why that line might’ve paused her when it’s about Oberon and making him smile. She picks up the thread, though, and once she’s back in character she slings her arm around Lance’s shoulders, dragging him comedically closer so she can use her other hand and paint the picture of all these ‘hilarious’ exploits, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow until she remembers Lance is injured and she pushes him (gently — ish) away. “ - here comes Oberon.”

Then there’s Lance’s line, and that’s the scene. Ballad gives Lance an inquiring look. “Should we continue? If so, I call Oberon.” Then she pauses. “Lance, are you sure you don't want to come down to the city? You seem in better spirits than you did at breakfast. Did you talk to your mom?"

Pausing, Lance flips the marker to the page and closes his book, setting it aside.  The line about the filly-foal goes past him, not understanding the familial implication.  Apparently he had not heard those rumors yet.

  "I am in better spirits, dear cousin, and I blame you for that.  You play a perfect Puck, and that on just the first read.  Moreso than that, it's just being in your company that makes me happy.  To your queries though, I did not see my mother this morning.  Indeed, I saw no other family since then.  Ballad, I will go with you to the city if you wish, but first I must implore that you hear me out."

  Lance takes a deep breath.  "About this morning...I cannot take back what I said, nor do I wish to for it is true.  My only regret is how I told you, in front of the others, bluntly and without grace, and placing you in a position to be embarrassed by my admission.  For that I am truly sorry, but I would have you know what is in my heart.  I fell in love with you the moment we met." 

  There it was, like Lance, plain and simple.

Ballad looks disappointed when he closes his book. Oberon’s lines seemed pretty good. The disappointment is subsumed by the luminous hook of a grin at his compliment of her ‘Puck.’ And then Lance’s deliberate cadence, his careful lead-up to I must implore that you hear me out; all that, and her grin disappears. Ballad returns to her side of the couch, resting an elbow on its arm. About this morning, he says, and she says, gamely, hopefully, with an airy wave of her hand, “No need, Lance, truly.”

But Lance wants to discuss it. Very well. Ballad listens quietly, without any further attempts to dissuade Lance from his confession, and is not shy and does not feel embarrassed and meets his eye if he’s looking to meet hers. “Well then.” Even. There are a few different things she thinks to say, but settles on: “I have heard you; and I will…” Brief pause, more a caesura than a pause; she places the palm of her hand over her heart, fingers gently curled over her breastbone. There's no necklace today. “… take your words as an extraordinary compliment.”

  "Now Ballad, thank you for letting me say it.  I think I'd have died had I held it in.  I cannot ever hope that you would feel the same about me.  I promise to try to not speak it unless you give me leave to, and you have only to say the word and I shall exile myself, but know that if you wish me to stay I may be sad and wistful at times, and you will know why.  I'll try to not moon after you, but it is monstrous difficult, for you leave a mark on my heart that will never be healed.  You are wonderful, and I will never be worthy of you though I may spend the rest of my life trying to be."

  Lance meets her eyes.

  "Now, having listened to me, do you still wish me to accompany you to the city?"

Now Ballad, thank you for letting me say it. Ballad interrupts, a little wry, rue kissed by humor. “Don’t thank me for that; I’d’ve stopped you if I could. I tried.” If he’s not looking at her, he doesn’t see her expression at I shall exile myself, but — rest assured, dear reader — there is an expression. By the time he’s ready to meet her eyes, she’s glanced away, exasperated and pensive and wishful, though she looks back eventually.

“Look, Lance. Why in the darkling morning would I want to exile you? It seems to me that you’d be sad and wistful at times in exile as well as here, and either way I’ll 'know why'; what’s it matter if I know? Exile? Didn’t you drop to your knee and pledge fealty to Uncle Random not yet a full day ago? Don’t you want to be properly ... Alive...? Yourself...? Why would you want to be exiled?”

  "I don't wish it, but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with my presence.  I would still serve Amber, and the King, just from afar.  I would choose your happiness over my own, no matter how difficult.  If however, you wish me to stay, I shall do so, and you would always find me hoping that perhaps someday you would wish me to be yours and claim me as such."

  Lance looks down, suddenly studying his shoes.

  "I know not what else to say."

Her eyebrows draw together; a cloud on her brow, when he says he doesn’t want her to feel uncomfortable with his presence. Irony, the curve of her mouth still wry, when he says he’d still serve Amber and the King; just from afar. She looks like she’ll comment, but instead she sets her boots up on Lance’s coffee table, crossing her legs neatly at the ankles and listens to the rest of what he has to say. By now it’s clear, or would be to someone paying close attention: Ballad doesn’t rate a confession of love in less than twenty-four hours very highly, and though she’s treating Lance’s declaration of feelings with due gravity, she thoroughly believes (or hopes) he’ll get over it.

“I wish you to stay and become a good Prince of Amber; to defend this kingdom and our kin; to let wonder and pleasure at this whole glorious mess of a reality kindle where it may. To listen to me should I ever try to warn you of danger, even if I can't tell you everything," which is a strange add-on, but that's Ballad for you. "I wish you to like yourself more than you seem to like yourself, Lance! And for you, if you are ever sorry about me, to….” Ballad glances at Lance and she seems sorry, a little beseeching.

“Why... you know, we’re going to know one another for centuries. And probably get to thoroughly know one another. All the way down to the marrow I expect, unless things go terribly and one of us is murdered. I don’t … If it gives you peace, and even if it doesn't, I'll tell you this for a sigh: I haven’t been embarrassed, I don’t understand why I should be, and wistful hearts don't cause me discomfort. That's your business. Hearts do what they want.”

Here: the hopeful lilt of a smile, the suggestion of something luminous, an invitation — although restrained. “But I am, and will be, sorry if you ever find me unkind.”

There. How's that? Did she get away with it?
This message was last edited by the player at 14:12, Tue 08 Dec 2020.

  Lance lets loose a hint of a smile.  Not as bright as yesterday, yet still better than this morning.

  "I knew I'd be chasing rainbows, tilting at windmills, and trying to sweep out the incoming tide with a whisk broom, Ballad.  You are astounding.  You are moonlight upon the waves, music upon the air.  Your parents named you well, for you are like a song....joyful, inspiring, and I wish I knew all the words, but I am too addle-pated and tone deaf to ever do so.  I don't think you unkind.  Quite the contrary, you are far more kind to this knave than ever I deserve.  I am not a man to hide that which I feel, and never before have I been so moved by anyone.  I could never be sorry for having fallen for you...hearts do do what they want."

  He stops, rubs his temple.

  "Enough.  I'll not speak of it again.  It makes no sense to do so.  I shall bury it deep within and find a way to deal with it, and we shall go into the city if you should desire it."

  Lance smiles.  It's forced.

  "I know.  I'll work on it."

Ballad is an optimist, so — although she gives Lance a Look when he starts in on himself (quit it), and there’s a flash of wistful irony when he says he doesn’t think she’s unkind (not now, you don’t; let’s see what song you’re singing later, eh?) — she’ll regard this is a success. So when he says, It makes no sense to do so, Ballad whisks her feet off the coffee table and impulsively flings herself across the couch to give Lance a hug. Has he ever been overtaken by a gaggle of puppies? Maybe had someone with swing-from-a-chandelier exuberance tackle him? That’s the energy here. Maybe some nervous energy. Relief. The Collected Works of Shakespeare goes whompf as it hits the ground!

“You’re diamonds and hearts, Lance, really. I do desire you to go to the city, try to have fun, just be... you know. If you want to rest instead, rest. But I know your company is wanted. If you go, you go first; I'll follow, all right?"

There! Ballad gives Lance a final squeeze, then stands and all-one-motion sweeps the Shakespeare book from the floor and sets it down where she was sitting. If Lance senses she's about to whirlwind out of there, he's on point.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:40, Tue 08 Dec 2020.

  Lance returns the hug, albeit a bit awkwardly, making sure to release it before Ballad does so that he does not seem clingy although every fiber of his being wants to hold her forever.

  When Ballad says that if he goes first she'll follow, Lance nods dumbly, still shell-shocked.

  He gets up from the floor, looks at Ballad and says, "I have no idea where this place is that we're supposed to go."

A lopsided smile, the suggestion (briefly) of her dimple. This is her concession to the conversation they just had; normally, it would be an unabashed sizzle-flash of a grin — but too soon, right? She is trying to pay attention to his mood. She takes a care.

"Then I suppose you'll have to interact with the citizenry and ask direction once you're there. Bloody Mary's. Though I wager you could simply follow the trail of besotted ladies and gents, a general aura of 'here walks beauty' which is bound to follow Jade and Ariadne."

Ballad's talking while walking backwards toward the door. "Thank you for the wine, Lance. And for reading with me. I want to be Oberon next time." He might think that, when she's by the door, for a moment she'll say more; there's something in the shape of her eyes, a pause after she's opened her mouth...

But no, nothing else to say. "I'll find you at the bar!"

And so she leaves, probably to cause more mischief.

  Ballad departs and Lance just stands there for several long minutes feeling empty.  He thinks about a movie he watched as a child, The Princess Bride, and how Wesley would always say <b><b>As you wish</b></b> instead of<i> I love you</i>to Princess Buttercup.  It meant the same.  He decides that he would adopt this with Ballad.  She wouldn't know the significance of it, but it would give him a way of saying it without saying it.

  Resignedly he belts on his sword, washes his face from where tears had begun falling anew, makes sure he has the card from his mother securely in his pocket and heads out, walking into town.  He didn't really want to go, but Ballad had wanted him to.

  A groomsman offers to get him a carriage or a horse, but Lance declines.  He walks, lost in his own thoughts, taking a less traveled route wherever available.  Today, the splendor of the world around him is muted for Lance.

  Hearts do what they want.  He guesses his wanted to shatter into a billion pieces because that was what it was doing.