Having worked his way through a decent part of Uncle Corwin's good scotch, at least the part that Corwin leaves available and somewhat easy to find, Jerod calls an evening and retires.
Upon rising and after a suitable breakfast, Jerod collects his modest trappings in preparation for travel. His clothing for travel is adjusted to keep a lower profile than he might normally have, though his colours remain, just better concealed. He checks briefly to see if Corwin has anything he might want delivered but does not dawdle overlong. He thanks his uncle for the accomodations, a decent meal and the scotch and then he's off to the stairs.
Corwin sees him off and arranges for him to have a boat to The Stairs, which Corwin calls The Faiella-Bionin, if Jerod so desires. The Stairs are where Jerod expects, and the way down seems easier and better lit than Jerod remembers. The room with the giant stalagmite throne is gone.
After no more than a day's descent, Jerod finds himself on the side of a mountain a score of miles from Rebma, looking down on the shelf leading to the seaward and the trading shells.
Jerod sees a great deal of activity to seaward, and most of it looks decidely more military than commercial. An expedition to reassert Rebma's control over some recalcitrant seaward shadow which has become too adjusted to recent lapses of authority, perhaps...
The stair continues down to the shelf and is lit by a trail of globes. There are sentry posts that can observe the cave mouth, but no one on the mountain.
Jerod waits where he is, adjusting to find a reasonable position from which to observe the seaward, and to make sure no one can sneak up, down, sideways or above him without him noticing...:)
Jerod finds such a place.
He will remain for a number of hours, perhaps twelve or so if necessary, to see what is happening.
Jerod's player also wishes to be clear on the situation since he has no underwater sense - Jerod's on a mountain a distance from Rebma, with a shelf leading to the seaward...does that mean that to continue to Rebma he must approach in that direction, or go the opposite way?
[It's a difficult visualization, to be sure. Jerod is about twenty miles from the City and Castle, remarkably like he'd be if he'd emerged from Rebma on the way to Amber. Behind and above Jerod is a mountain that does not seem to be populated and is essentially bare rock. Near to Jerod is a cave mouth from which Jerod has emerged. The entire cave cannot be in the mountain, because the mountain could not contain all the path to Paris. Down from the cave is a path, with steps, that leads to a plains. More-or-less directly across the plains is Rebma. More or less onto the plains and then away to seaward (perpendicular to the line from where Jerod is to Rebma) are the various permanent trading paths that people follow to get to shadows, unless those are gone due to patternfall. Does that clear it up?]
Much better...many thanks. Jerod is no longer having to consider how to deal with a possible armed camp...although the considerations I had been going through while awaiting the answer were quite interesting...I must make efforts to test those plans in the future.
It looks more like a far-behind-the-lines encampment, not one that's seriously expecting an attack. Corwin's men were more alert.
Given the variances in the journey since the last time that he was here, and given the reduced amount of time needed to complete this journey, Jerod is speculating that Rebma is linking more closely to Paris now.
As such, since he has a few hours to spare, he intends one quick experiment of Pattern summoning to view the relative reality of the surrounding environment. He will conduct nothing further after this to ensure there are no forks in the thread but will ruminate upon his findings.
It does require movement, but not a great deal. It reminds him of the vicinity of the Cairn to Rebma from Amber, the Faiella-Bionin; It is a distance from Amber, but there is an awareness of Amber. Here, too, there is an awareness of Reality. It may be that Paris is still close, but it may be something different. Eric was always clear about Rebma: be careful of using the Pattern there or near there, because it would not take much to move oneself away from breathable water.
After about three hours, a patrol starts up the path towards Jerod.
[Assuming Jerod does not flee nor slay them all but instead allows them to approach...]
It's only one patrol - killing them all would be very gauche...and not much exercise either...:)
The patrol's leader speaks. "Greetings, your grace! Welcome home."
Does the patrol leader make his/her greeting before they is in close visual range or after? Jerod is curious because he has taken reasonable precautions to appear less than fully royal-like. Given the ease of identification by this individual, Jerod begins to wonder as to the kind of surveillance he might be under, tritons included.
[Well, obviously Jerod was in hearing range, but he seemed to expect Jerod to be there. He didn't react to Jerod's identity.]
Also, does Jerod recognize the leader? Female or male? If male, is he Coldstream? How are they armed and their general bearing/competence? (just on the off chance that in fact they are in the pay of a possible enemy so he's got an idea of how long it will take to dispose of them).
Male, unknown to Jerod, in the uniform of the Coldstream Guards. The man is young and while he carries himself with poise, he seems new at dealing with Dukes. He is a subaltern of some stripe.
A low ranking officer, commissioned as opposed to un-comissioned. Curious...
"Identify yourself. Name, group, immediate superior." Jerod replies. The tone in his voice is not one of a visitor requesting a name, but a Duke ordering a subordinate to comply.
Jerod is looking to set an immediate relationship of superior/subordinate in this situation. Such a relationship is easier to use to obtain information.
He nods, unfazed by the Duke's questions. "My name is Sejanus, your Grace. I am a subaltern in the Coldstream Guards. Captain Gracchus leads the company I serve in and Colonel Germanicus Scipio commands the Guards." His men seem at ease as well.
"Who sent you to meet me?" Jerod asks, noting the name Scipio. "And where is Colonel Scipio?"
"Captain Gracchus, your Grace. One of our tasks is to watch for people using that pathway. It has been little-used since the Children of Lir left, but the Guards needed to recruit after that. There is some question if some of the men will return. The Colonel is likely to be at Headquarters, if he is at our post. If not, they will know where he is." He looks down the mountain at the troops drilling. "May we escort you to headquarters?"
Jerod appears to think for a moment, as if weighing the options, looking in the direction of Rebma, though in fact the headquarters is where he intends to go.
"Yes, you may." Jerod says, picking up his pack before proceeding. "You may bring me up to speed on the Guard's activities since my cousin took the Children away to his homeland."
Jerod sets a strong pace as he travels with this group, using his heritage to advantage. He is uninterested in being "escorted" but rather is curious as to how the group operates - he will not slow down if they do but will instead move on ahead (a rather unfortunate bit of a situation for an escort to be in should your charge decide to leave you far behind). He is also interested in the behaviour and strength of this Sejanus and listens to what information he provides while picking out data on the location of the various drilling squads of the Guard that are available, noting their positions, relative strengths, training tactics and approximate level of preparedness (which should become clearer as he gets closer).
(given the original holder of this name in Roman history, it's good that Jerod is not quite as paranoid as I am, otherwise he would have killed Sejanus as soon as he heard the name...:)
The Guard is unusually green. Some seasoned men, but a large contingent of newcomers. They're looking confident and they can parade, but Jerod isn't convinced that they can fight, yet. If a war-band of seaward pirates came over the hill (which won't happen), Jerod wouldn't count on most of them making it through the fight. The guard needs to deploy to temper the men and integrate the new and the old.
No battle? Damn...no fun today.
Sejanus is clearly one of the new men, and seems to be a political appointee. Jerod suspects that he has important connections with ambitions, because it's otherwise unclear why he's a soldier and not a courtier. His description of the guards' activities is mostly a litany of promotions and commissions. Now they are training, and he expects that they may be assigned to a police action at some point, but he does not go into details.
Jerod asks specific, pointed questions concerning the training regimen of the troops Sejanus is commanding, tactical strategies, morale concerns and other elements, things that a commander focused on the welfare of his men would either have considered already or would consider important. Jerod does it deliberately, especially for those soldiers here who are the more seasoned or more perceptive but who may not recognize an ambitious commander with little interest in their well-being. It is better that they are forewarned.
Political appointees have their uses, but not in a military command in Jerod's opinion, except for target practice.
He's definitely serving his time as a stepping stone elsewhere. As long as there's peace, he'll do fine. He isn't opposed to the good of the troops, and he doesn't want to look bad, but his heart is elsewhere.
(and I'm ever more grateful he's not paranoid, cause this guy reminds me about the real Sejanus more and more...he would be *so* dead...:)
[If he knew, he'd hope it didn't become important to you to kill him. :) ]
As the group enters the camp, an older soldier comes up. "Colonel Scipio's greetings, your grace. He'll see you in his quarters."
Unless Jerod objects, the older man will escort Jerod further into camp. At a tent at the end of a row, he stops and lifts a flap. A wiry man inside rises. Germanicus Scipio is a career soldier and has been with the guard for decades, since before Eric was King in Amber. He looks tough. "Your grace, this is an unexpected pleasure." He gestures inside. "Come in, have a seat, and tell me what brings you to our encampment."
Jerod does not object and goes to meet the Colonel. When he arrives, he nods a polite greeting to Germanicus as he leans upon his spear, a greeting suitable from a member of the royal house (or houses) to a senior and respected officer.
"Greetings Colonel. I was on my way home bearing messages for the Queen when your patrol came upon me. I was unaware the Guard was in deployment." he says, entering the tent. "So I decided to take a closer look.
"Are these training exercises?" Jerod asks. "The men accompanying the patrol leader Sejanus are...young."
It will be obvious that Jerod would have preferred to use another word to describe the state of the men, but chooses different words so as to indicate that they do not appear remotely battleworthy, but that his comments are not an insult to the Colonel or his abilities, merely an observation.
"Hah!," he grunts. "They're young, that's true, but it's curable. We'll make men out of these boys, the old fashioned way. I haven't announced it to the troops yet, but we're heading out this week. Going to show the colors in a few of the seawards, now that we've got contact back. Remind 'em who the Queen is." He looks up. "If we're lucky, we'll find a few smugglers or pirates to knock down, give the boys a taste of blood." He looks out the tent flap. "Would you like to review the troops, your grace? Always a morale-booster to be royally reviewed, you know."
Jerod listens as Germanicus speaks, remembering back to his own experiences. Pirates and smugglers, bandit raids and rebel factions in distant shadows. Training exercises for a young prince to blood himself, to gain experience in the command of men, to learn the trade that demands sweat and metal and blood. A process to weed out those who have too little stomach, or too much feeling.
Only the process never ends, though one wishes that there was a finish to it all. More battles, more wars, more chances to make men out of boys, only to watch most of them die later. A scattered few, the lucky ones perhaps, manage to get through, grow old and sit in taverns and homes and pine for the good ole' days. To not be one of those that requires a visit to family to express condolescences. Jerod remembers after Kolvir...to the wives and mothers of those he watched die. Too many...always too many.
He looks outside in the direction that Germanicus bids and sees the men there, feeling suddenly very old, the weight of so many memories pressing at him and he feels himself nod. For all that he would hope it would not go the same way, there is no other. For those he sees march past, they must learn the hard way how to survive, or else they are indeed lost, wasted to no good cause.
"Indeed. Morale is quite essential." Jerod says. "Let us hope they find their cure quickly, and without too many lost to it."
"Hmf? Oh, yes, the cure. I suspect that no one here will live forever. The men will be fine. They're being led by officers from the finest families, with strong military traditions." Germanicus leans towards Jerod, but doesn't really lower his voice. Perhaps he doesn't have two volumes. "I don't want to tell the men how easy our mission will be, but I'm not expecting any real challenges, not like when I was a Subaltern."
Eventually, they go outside to review the troops. They look fine, if young. Jerod can't place his finger on it, but his gut feeling is that were he responsible, he would reorganize this regiment, possibly starting at the top.
Does Germanicus have an XO? If so, does this individual accompany them during the inspection? If so, Jerod includes them in the following...
[yes, Gaius Drusus is his name.]
While they are reviewing the troops, Jerod goes through the practices he learned from Eric with regards to how to motivate and inspire, collecting names and information from Germanicus a bit prior to calling out one man or another (certainly not within hearing range of the man in question). He calls them out always by name, asking after their family, their opinion of their men and any upcoming duties, past exploits and the like.
(for those who might discount this, I've seen it done in real life and it works...:)
[Works great, they are impressed]
During this process, he will be very careful to watch the good Colonel. The questions he asks of Germanicus are the kind that the colonel is certain to have encountered before from other visiting dignitaries who would be interested in looking knowledgable. The difference is that Jerod wants to see the Colonel's reaction to the answers the men give, how they react to his presence, how well they respond to questions and how forthcoming they are on potentially touchy subjects (ie: future missions, current readiness of troops, etc). He wants to see whether evidence crops up concerning group mindsets, a lack of understanding of possible external threats or a feeling of ease or invincibility because of past glories sustained by previous generations.
They're overconfident. Nothing can challenge them. And they're not as good as they used to be and they don't know it. The few that do, aren't talking much.
Jerod is looking for an overall analysis - how much is the good colonel living in the good ole' days and how well connected to reality, both on the ground and of his men, is Germanicus?
That's it. It's not that he's soft, or stupid, it's that he's stuck in the mindset of decades ago. Perhaps centuries. If the circumstances are right or if he doesn't have to do anything challenging, he'll be fine.
Unfortunately it is unlikely that such an event will occur and Jerod's opinion hardens as the inspection is completed.
More training, changes to the command structure, and more training. And only one person who can order that change and get away with it.
As they complete the inspection and move off a short distance, Jerod nods, to the common observer apparently satisfied, at least for the time being, though there were several very minor frowns though nothing that would be seen by the men, though Germanicus is another matter and is in fact the intended recipient for those expressions.
"You had indicated you are planning to take them out in a week or so for a bit of...exercise." Jerod says, looking for the confirmation. "I am returning to the Queen with a matter of considerable import. I am not at liberty to discuss it, however, I think it would be in the best interests of Rebma, that you and your men be around for a short period longer than that. This matter is almost certain to require the attention of the Guard and it would be best if it did not have to wait for you to return to see to its completion."
"I trust we are clear Colonel?"
Finally, a last question concerning military authority - who appoints and directs the Guard? Does the Queen have direct control of them or can Jerod adjust their orders as a Duke of the royal house?
The Guards are directly controlled by Moire. That's not true of all regiments, but is of regiments that have (or have had) Tritons under them.
He nods, gravely. "Yes, your Grace, the Guard is always ready to answer Rebma's need. A bit of action, I hope! Shall I accompany you to the palace? Or perhaps Drusus can? He can return with new orders if need be."
Jerod nods, inwardly pleased. All has gone as he had hoped. The good Colonel will remain and drill his men, and not wander off to get boys killed needlessly. Long enough for Jerod to get to the Queen and see if some badly needed promotions can be arranged, and remove some driftwood from where it should no longer be. And perhaps make the Guard stronger in the process.
"I think it best if you remain for the moment. I would prefer that someone be here who understands the need to remain vigilant in the face of the unknown. Drusus might decide to wander off, not knowing the situation. He will accompany me as you suggest." Jerod says, leaning in and lowering his voice, to speak what must certainly be a terrible truth spoken only to those who must lead. "Keep the men sharp Colonel. Drill them hard in the interim until Drusus can return. Forces rise that would not have dared before when both Rebma and Amber once stood. But the days are not as they once were. We must all be ready."
The Colonel nods, gravely. "I cannot, of course, change my own orders Your Grace, but we can certainly be on the lookout for word from the palace." His voice is as quiet as Jerod's.
Then he pulls back, returning his voice to normal. "I go now to report to Queen. I will advise her of your vigilance when I see her. Remember Colonel, stay sharp."
"Drusus, take an honor guard and escort the Duke to the palace. Await his word before returning."
"Yes, Colonel," says Gauis Drusus. He is either taciturn by nature or closed mouthed around royalty. That may be as many words as he has said all along.
[Anything planned before the palace, oh meddlesome Prince?]
Ah...to be a Prince is a good thing...:)
At the very least, he's gotten the good Colonel on his toes, such as that may be worth. We'll see where it goes.
In the interim, he puts in a bit of questioning to Drusu on the way to the palace. He is curious...tactiturn does not usually equate to courtier types in the Guard, especially if a Duke is available to suck up to. There may be more to the XO than is being let on. We shall see...
Once away from the camp, he loosens up slightly. The main item you learn is that the Colonel is his father-in-law. Also, he seems reluctant to discuss the readiness of the troops or the role they'll play. He's strongly in favor of more training, maybe a lot more. Or of some of the veterans returning from the surface.
The knowledge of the relationship is noted and Jerod politely asks after his family lineage, looking to get a handle on the hookups that would exist.
His family is from the undistinguished lesser nobility; his father is a baron and his mother is from a powerful shell. If Jerod were to guess, he'd guess the Colonel's daughter married Drusus for money. It's not unheard of as a way to increase the prospects of both families.
Hmm...she marries for the money and he gets some upgrade in social status. Sounds like early 20th century England...:)
And barring the option of the veterans returning any time soon, Jerod asks how would Drusus would go about getting "a lot more training" under the belts of the men, what areas require considerable correction (ie: a change of leadership) and where additional, perhaps more suitable individuals might be found. During this question period, Jerod keeps his tone very precise. He does not let any hint of a political or court attitude creep in, instead maintaining a very military attitude. He wants to be sure not to push Drusus off by any hint that he might have a political objective, instead his focus is solely to improve the Guard.
One Drusus gets started, he doesn't hold back. He suggests the problem is that the guard has too many new faces to start fresh and too few of the old guard to indoctrinate the newcomers in the old ways. He'd make two units, a smaller veteran one and a larger new unit that accepted recruits, who could then apply to the actual Coldstream Guards. It's not a traditional Rebman model.
Jerod nods, not shooting the idea down. Instead he inquires as to why this particular model as opposed to the current one. What benefits does Drusus feels the new model provides, what deficiencies does it present and how could they be overcome. Jerod is particularly focussed on the "why". He wants to see how Drusus defends the idea, whether there is logic to his argument, or passion, or both.
(and he's not off the mark with regards to unit turn over issues).
"Well," he drawls, "if the green unit was pressed too hard, it could crack, but that's not impossible now and it's better than the Guard cracking. The men might resent it, consider it a demotion, if there wasn't some prestige to go with it." Drusus raises his eyebrows. "Would Your Grace sponsor a regiment? 'The Duke of Rebma's Own Huscarles' has a ring to it."
"Perhaps, though depending on how the men are acquired the same problem would still exist." Jerod replies. "I'm thinking more along the lines of a change to the whole process of induction however. My cousin's actions in drawing off members of the Guard has revealed a flaw in the means by which we maintain it. I gather that his call for volunteers drew off the more suitable warrior types, those both skilled and more suited to a military lifestyle, leaving far too many openings for ambitious but less suited members of various Shells and families to acquire.
"We need a means by which to acquire good stock, men with the heart and focus that suits them to a life in the Guard, not those looking for a quick promotion at the behest of their wives or sisters." Jerod says, looking Drusus square on. "Tell me of the men who you know in the Guard who fit this description, from where do they hail?"
OOC - in this circumstance, again, Jerod is not looking for a completed answer, but rather an idea of where in the current social strata of Rebma that he's going to find the best recruits so that he can put forward a recruitment idea to the queen, and see about restricting some of the more unacceptable offerings that have been put forward.
From a military perspective, anyone can be trained to fight, barring physical or mental impairment. The problems arise when training individuals from specific sub-sets of society. As an example, those from especially priviledged social classes who expect more but give less. Another is older males, who can be trained to fight as well as younger ones but because of their age and generally greater experience in life tend not to like to fight. And eagerness in battle is a requirement for victory.
The best individuals are usually young adults, male and female subject to the prevailing mechanics of warfare (ie: if it's all muscle related the males tend to do more of the fighting). I would presume in Rebma that it would be predominantly males given the environment and social structure. They are usually individuals who come from a lifestyle that is fairly simple (lower to middle class), tend to be physically oriented with moderate amounts of education and a relatively stable homelife. For the non-officers, the Guard would provide a similar environment to home life, a sense of community, with training, travel, the illusion of adventure and the promotion of self-worth within the kingdom.
Or, perhaps Jerod is totally wrong...:)
Drusus names the senior Sergeants, which makes sense. They are, to a man, the retainers of officers who have joined with their patrons. Drusus generally names the families these men came from in terms of who they served. Drusus is not really going to be well-acquainted with middle-class young men who aren't already in the service or his family's service.
Jerod nods, putting elements into place before continuing. "New troops will be a big undertaking then." he says. "Whoever takes it on will have some chances for promotion but it's equally likely we might piss off someone with far too much ego on their hands. Not an assignment for someone who is sensitive about their future promotion schedule."
Jerod looks at Drusus again. "When I speak to the Queen on this, is there anyone you might know who would be interested?" he says.
Jerod deliberately does not ask Drusus if he's interested, but rather leaves it to him to put his own name forward. Whoever takes this on, even if Jerod stays to help out with it, has to understand the risks themselves.
"I can't do it. My father-in-law has the Coldstream Guards, so it wouldn't look right. Octavius Marcus or Antonius might take it, but they've got ambitions with the Guards, so it would have to be well-sold." He smiles, apologetically. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, I hadn't really expected to have my gripes and solutions be taken seriously enough to have a fully fleshed out plan."
"Just goes to show what happens when you talk to royalty." Jerod says with a smile. "Consider yourself a technical advisor until further notice. The Queen is the hard sell. Then we go after the bureaucracy."
Drusus nods.
The gates of Rebma are ahead, and Jerod sees four guards at them, two men and two Royal tritons.
Jerod keeps an eye on them, and as with all Tritons, always looks to see if someone's got a notched ear.
Not that he sees.
[Triumphally, the Duke returns to the city. Where to, Your Grace?]
Triumphally only counts when you're looking to show off. And Jerod's here on business, so it's off to the palace.
The guard waves you through, deferentially, and the trip through the city in uneventful. When Jerod arrives at the palace, he is given a message from his mother. Court is being held today and he should attend. She's had a servant assigned to help him prepare.
He inquires as to the nature of the activities that are being offered at Court, that the servant would know about, plus any rumors that might be filtering around.
Rumor has it that the Queen is about to launch a new expedition to visit the Seaward and re-establish ties and trade, now that things are more settled. There are a few petitioners scheduled, but they may be the less sensitive ones, who don't realize that the Queen called court for her reasons, not to hear their grievances. The young man assigned to him thinks he arrived just in time. If Duke Jerod wishes to put anything on the Queen's agenda, he has the ear of the seneschal and could have him added to the petitioner's list.
Jerod informs this young man that Duke Jerod, in his capacity as both Duke of Rebma and Prince of Amber, comes bearing greetings from the Queen's fellow monarch Random of Amber and Xanadu, and will want an audiences, both public and private to deliver them as befitting their importance. The Duke also has a matter of some import to discuss with the Queen concerning the composition of the Guard and brings with him an experienced officer to speak on these matters for the defence of the realm.
He nods and will pass the message to the seneschal. After some short time, the man returns to escort Jerod to the Grand Throne Room and his accustomed place near (but below) the Sapphire Throne. Almost all are in attendance, and Jerod recognizes most of the court. Neither of his sisters is there, but his mother enters almost immediately after him, walking arm-in-arm with Princess Llewella. Drusus is apparently "with" Jerod, because his place has been assigned at Jerod's side. He has a detached look on his face, as if he's not quite sure how he got here or what it means. Jerod's best guess is that he's mostly hoping he doesn't screw up.
erod smiles just a little, remembering his own first time in Court. With luck, Drusus will not make as big a mess of his first court session as Jerod did.
(but that is another story...:)
Mother has time only for a brief smile before the Queen enters from behind the throne. She still looks young, and could easily pass for Jerod's peer, if not for her eyes. Most people didn't get close enough to see the age there, or know what to look for. Her hair floats behind her like rays of green moonlight.
Jerod watches as she emerges, looking now for something different, something he had not considered, though now he wonders if he might have always seen it, and just never known. Now, though Moire is certainly much older than Jerod, he looks for age that is greater than even he might have realized, age that he might have seen in the eyes of another monarch, like Oberon.
She stands in front of the Sapphire throne, and raises her hand for silence. "My people, I am gratified to see so many of you here on this day, to support our endeavors. Before we begin, I see an unexpected surprise. I greet my grandson, the Duke Jerod, Royal Duke of Rebma. What good currents bring you home, Jerod?"
"Your majesty..." Jerod replies, offering a suitable bow. "As always, though adventure and duty may draw one away, the currents of home are ever-active and Rebma always brings home her children. It is upon those currents that I return, bearing news of the happenings around us and greetings from Amber and Xanadu."
She nods. "We deal with matters of import below the waves at this court, Jerod, but the greetings of our brother monarchs are welcome. You may attend me after the court, then, grandson, for any private missives you may carry. What news do you have?"
"Of greatest note your majesty is news from Xanadu. His Majesty King Random, and his son Prince Martin, have both charged me to inform you that his Grace, your grandson Martin, will in the coming months be married to a Lady of the court of Amber and Xanadu." Jerod replies, his tone and his manner fitted to exactly match the requirements of Court for the delivery of a delicate, and potentially explosive, message, to ensure there is no room for offense.
"I am at your majesty's bidding to provide any details you may require concerning this event, in addition to the private missives previously indicated."
The queen nods again in the utter silence after Jerod's statement. "Why this is wondrous news, grandson. It cheers the heart to think he has found someone with whom he can find peace. You will, I hope, carry out the family duty of inviting your future cousin, Martin's fiancee, to visit us at our court? It behooves us all to know the woman who may one day bear the daughter that leads Rebma."
The court is awash in mutterings.
Jerod makes a note of where the greatest concentration of mutterings can be found, nodding to the Queen to garner a moment's time to do this. He is also interested in the reactions of his mother and Llewella.
"As your majesty wishes, so I shall proceed." Jerod replies.
The court is still agitated, but settles down as the minutiae of rulership happen around them. Finally, the Queen turns to Rilsa. "And now, you had something you wished to discuss?"
At Jerod's right Rilsa smiles. "I do, your Majesty. I wish your blessing, and backing, for a large trade expedition to the Seaward, a portion of your realm that has been neglected for too long."
Moire nods. "Having seen your detailed plans, I am inclined to find favor with your request. Do the members of my court have aught to discuss?" She looks up. The conversation sounded almost rehearsed. It's unclear who might speak now, but no one jumps to do so.
His mother garners a brief glance during the conversation before Jerod returns his attention to the Queen, filing the conversation away. That the conversation comes forth as it does means it is for the ears of others both in Court and the Seaward, though what message is being sent is as yet not clear.
"With your majesty's permission, does the proposed trade expedition include the use of the Guard?" Jerod asks. "If so, then I would beg the Queen's indulgence for a private audience to discuss a matter of some small importance with respect to the Guard and for which I have acquired the assistance of one of its officers for some of the more technical details of the discussion."
The Queen smiles and turns to Rilsa. "I am pleased that your son is taking an interest in matters relating to defence of the realm. He makes a fine figure as a warrior, does he not?"
Rilsa's smile is forced. "He does. We shall discuss his concerns after court, then?"
Moire nods, her hair bobbing in the currents.
Court continues, but it's clear that the main event has transpired. When no one else has issues for her, the Queen rises. "I thank you for attending court this day, my people. Go with the blessing of Lir." With that she turns and exits through a back curtain. Rilsa catches Jerod's eye. "We have to be back there in a moment. What's this about?"
"I had a chance encounter with Colonel Germanicus." Jerod says, having moved far enough out of range of Gaius to speak without being overheard. "The good Colonel allowed me the opportunity to conduct a royal inspection prior to taking his men out on what he believes is a routine mission to the Seaward. What I saw scared the hell out of me. My cousin Vere took the best of the Guard on his little adventure it would seem and the flunkies that have since been inducted look great in uniform but that's all. Under normal conditions, time would serve to take care of this inequity. Such is not the case now."
Rilsa nods, impatiently, and bites her lip.
Jerod looks once more to verify there is no one monitoring before proceeding, making a point of it to reinforce it with his mother. "There was an attack in Amber. One of Oberon's many enemies has awoken, as I had suspected might happen. As a result, one of the sons of Julian lies dead now. While Amber is likely to remain in its focus, this thing's influence may cause others to take notice of Rebma and we are vulnerable. Changes are needed to the Guard and needed quickly."
Rilsa stops. "That bad? I need them in the seaward and quickly. You've figured out what this is about, of course. They're going to try to find Loreena."
"I had my suspicions though I did not not know the target." Jerod says. "Using the Guard for...trade relations...is a bit much. And the good Colonel appeared to be looking for a way to blood his troops. He liked to talk. According to him he thinks it will be a routine expedition, a few pirates is all. That definitely had me wondering what was really going on."
Jerod leans forward slightly. "I could take on half of existing officers myself, without breaking a sweat. Changes are needed to bring in fresh blood, adjust the way troops are trained and officered. That's why I brought him." and he motions to Gaius. "He's got just enough brains to know when things are not right, a few ideas on how things can be fixed, and just enough frustration to speak his mind, even to a royal. The fact he hasn't fainted in Court is a good sign.
"Given all that, these things need not be a cross-purposes. I have a possible idea. Tell me, where's Loreena?"
She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. "We're sure enough to send the Guard, but not sure enough to send a few dozen Tritons. We need force and intelligence out there. Loreena wouldn't just disappear, and she was looking for something. I'm afraid she found it."
She pauses at the doorway. "Leave your man. You can send for him later. We don't have time to wait for the guards to get fixed. And if you report this to your grandmother, you should be prepared to be offered the command."
Jerod motions to Gaius to remain where he is. "I would wonder why Grandmother would be likely to offer me the command, given my current...connections to Paris and Xanadu and Amber." he says. "Though it is certainly not a situation I would immediately decline. I am as interested as retrieving my sister as anyone."
Rilsa looks at Jerod for a moment then says, softly, "I don't think your Grandmother considers them important."
"I'm sure she doesn't." Jerod says. "The issue however is whether I consider them important, and whether I would favor them over what she desires. Or is that also considered not to be important? Although, I believe I would be surprised if she did consider my view of my motivations to be of any importance."
She shrugs. "Only one way to find out." She gestures to the looming doorway. Jerod can see the silhouette of a triton inside the room.
Jerod nods and steps forward, pausing once inside to get a look at the Triton in question before proceeding.
His face is elaborately tattooed in a pattern that Jerod doesn't recognize. He isn't the same Triton that Jerod last saw with the Queen.
Jerod studies the tattooing to commit it to memory. He does not make any attempt to hide that he is observing this Triton.
The queen smiles, only her eyes betraying that she is not 18. "Welcome home, Jerod. Tell me about my guards."
"My cousin's departure with some of the Guard on his quest would appear to have left some holes in the Guard, your majesty." Jerod replies. "The replacements I observed appeared far less than adequate, certainly no match for some of the threats that have been developing. Mother indicates the Guard is intended for use shortly for a most pressing matter, however. Is their opponent tougher than a pirate or two?"
She nods, absorbing Jerod's report. "Yes, very likely. Someone strong enough to take and keep your sister against her will. What can we do to improve the guard and still send them out?"
"That would depend on a couple of factors. How much time is available to make changes and the nature of the threat being faced." Jerod says.
"Something that could prevent your sister from choosing to return or send a message," says Rilsa.
Moire looks at him for a long moment. "No time. And there are rumors. The worst case, if they are to be taken seriously, is Tritons who don't respect the pact. The Guard will have orders to retreat if they encounter such."
"Ah, let me guess. Khela?" Jerod asks. "Or is there someone else who can command them?"
Moire looks him over. "Guessing is such a risky way to attempt to rule a kingdom. If Khela could command them, we'd be fighting in Port Ostia. She may have found a band of renegades, not subject to the pact. Or she may not be involved. Or she may be using them as a diversion. We just do not know, and your mother intends the guards to flush the prey."
She looks at Rilsa again, then back to Jerod. "Now, you asked so that you could provide me with recommendations on how to best improve the guards ability to complete their mission."
"Then here they are." Jerod says. "First, you have too many flunkies in positions who are looking for advancement because either they think it's a good idea or because their wives or sisters thought it was. They look good in uniform and that's it. They'll break if they have to fight something serious, and the men they're commanding will be the ones to pay.
"Two, Colonel Germanicus is remembering too much of the good old days and not considering the possible future that life might decide to throw at him. He thinks a quick blooding of his troops will be sufficient to...fortify their courage. It's a thought that too many others are also living with, remembering past glories that were earned by others who aren't around anymore. They think it's a cakewalk and one energetic Triton in their ranks will put paid to that.
"Three, the Guard has no idea what they're going up against and that threat must be communicated clearly so that troops can be prepared when the time comes. There can be no illusions about what is being expected of them." he says, looking at his mother. "Especially if they're being sent out to die in an effort to flush out an enemy.
"My recommendation is simple - the Guard must be reorganized. Who ever goes out on this mission must be either combat veterans or long service troops only. Officers and NCO's must have had either direct battle experience or sufficient long term experience and training to carry them through the first shock of battle contact. The unit that proceeds must be focussed and well-directed. Whoever leads it must be fully briefed on the possible threats expected, their full choice of options that are permitted and what repercussions Rebma is prepared to accept based on the Guards' actions whether the mission is successful or not."
Moire is very quiet. "We never send people to die without reason, but there is always a chance when we send someone out it will happen. This is a risk soldiers undertake voluntarily."
Jerod does not reply to this given it is an obvious part of a soldier's oath to expect death during service. He does not offer the reverse argument that soldiers expect their leaders to be suitable to the task of leadership, if they are going to be expected to die.
She looks to Rilsa. "Your recommendations seem sound, but might be impractical due to time constraints. What can we do now, or within a week's time?"
"Strip the Guard down. Select only a sufficient number of men necessary to take on the target, if battle is to be joined. It has been mentioned often enough that they are there to flush out a possible opponent. They will need to be strong enough to fight, but if they face Tritons, fast enough to escape. And they must do it while remaining cohesive. A fleeing retreat will become a rout and then many will be lost to no good cause.
"One week, with dedicated training using only combat veterans or experienced troops, is sufficient to mold a unit that can handle the strain of combat without having to worry about avoidable losses from lack of experience. All of this is contingent on what the target is and the opposition that is expected. If the entire Guard is needed to flush out this opponent, then the reorganization is moot.
"I would also recommend changing the rules of engagement." Jerod says. "Does the Guard normally go out with sorcerers? If not, are there any available to supplement the ranks that are trustworthy? If the opposition sees only spears and muscle, that could provide an unpleasant surprise. It would also expand the options available."
She looks at him, nodding. "Can you train them and recruit the magical support they need?"
Jerod smiles, almost as if he had been waiting for this question, though not perhaps because his mother had warned him it was would come. "Perhaps, your majesty. There are certainly a few in the area who are competent. There is one in particular however, a sorcerer of considerable talent who might be available. It all depends on whether he can be persuaded to assist us. I believe his sister might be able to do so, if it were put to her...diplomatically.
"Can you reach Celina? At last I heard she was approaching Rebma, though I am unsure how far away she remains."
Moire sits straighter. "If she's left Paris, then her father is more of a fool than I took him for."
"One could always hope that Celina might sit by complacently as events moved forward around her, though given her parents I would believe it to be a forlorn hope." Jerod says. "Her brother is in attendance with her I believe, possibly some others. It is he that is the one who would prove useful. She might convince him in our efforts, if she believed that it suited her agenda or garnered her support in the future for that agenda."
Moire listens attentively. "I cannot reach her. That is your father's type of magic. Can you contact her?"
"No. I have not been trained to that sort of...magic." Jerod says. "Could not a mirror be used?"
Rilsa looks at Moire. "They don't work like your trumps, Jerod. If she had one with her, and would use it, perhaps. It is the same reason we cannot find your sister with one."
Moire nods. "Unless you have another avenue to locate them, you will need to find another source of magical defense."
"Is Lamell around?" Jerod asks, looking at his mother.
She looks back. "Yes, you can have him. We need him back." She pauses. "Just like the guard."
"I'll do my best to return him in reasonable working order." Jerod says drily. "All of them."
Moire stands. "You may give your son whatever Rank is required to achieve his aims."
"What of Germanicus?" asks Rilsa.
"As you see fit. Now I must leave, I am fatigued." She turns to Jerod. "Thank you, Jerod. I appreciate your efforts to repair my damaged armies."
Jerod focuses his attention upon her even makes the proper obligations required for her departure. He is unsure he has ever seen her tired and looks more for how this "fatigue" may be manifesting, if any signs should be apparent.
"Of course, grandmother. I will leave the messages from Random concerning current...events...with my mother for perusal at your convenience, if you wish." Jerod says, tapping the satchel at his side.
He bows properly, either departing himself or waiting upon her departure before looking at his mother. "I've yet to recall an instance where grandmother was ever fatigued."
Rilsa nods. "And I doubt that we ever shall. More accurately, she is tired of me not resolving this issue without her." She looks around the room. "Now, how do we organize this so that you can do what you need? Other than Lamell, how do you want to handle Germanicus?"
"I want Lamell for magical support, but I also want to see if he can bring one or two others with him." Jerod says. "That will depend on whether my theory that sorcerers are like cats plays out. I'm hoping it doesn't."
"He'll know best who he can work with."
Jerod digs into his satchel for the messages to be delivered. "As for the good Colonel, regardless of how this plays out we'll need more troops and a new training regimen for them. I propose that Germanicus be given a new and important assignment. Recruitment.
"Germanicus is an old soldier who can serve as a symbol, to catch the imagination of young men. Those who are eager to serve, to make a difference, or just to get away from home. He still remembers the old days, probably still lives in them if I hazard a guess. He'll be the father figure to inspire men to join. Then we hand them over to soldiers like Drusus who are not as likelly to live in the old glory days and who can teach them the hard reality of war. Plus weed out the ones who are unsuitable."
"Good," she says. "Shall we make him a general in the recruiting brigrade and you a colonel?"
"I intend to run the troops through a quick set of close order battle drills to get a quick measure of them, then use the remaining time to weed out anyone who doesn't make muster. That will include officers, so I'm sure that someone is going to protest that their husband or son is being unfairly picked on. We'll need damage control back here to let those who are offended know we're doing them a favor, because any man who doesn't work to his utmost will be shark bait before he's allowed to endanger the Guard."
Rilsa nods, not interrupting this time.
"And I'll need a Triton for training manuevers." he says, looking at his mother. "If we encounter them, the Guard must be able to withdraw in good order even while under attack. I need to get green troops aware of what they might be facing. Once they know what their fear is like, I can use it to make them better."
"Are you sure? The men may not like working with a Triton. We will find you one, but you need to be prepared for that to be unpopular."
"They can decide whether death is more unpopular than Tritons." Jerod replies, a hint of Eric in his voice. "Prejudice doesn't make good soldiers, just dead ones.
"We need that little bit of reality to break through any delusions they might have about their invincibility, so much more suitable than any speech I can give. Once we've got their brains wrapped around what they might be facing, then we can mold them to suit the task. Training is always easier than breaking old habits, and people are never so amenable to training as when their very survival is at stake.
"As for a ranks, a colonelcy should do for me. Make it temporary, so that current officers won't think their promotion options are getting usurped but add something so that it is clear it comes from the Queen, in case I need to beat on anyone who decides to question my authority.
"And a generalship will do good for Germanicus. He'll have a suitable amount of prestige to reward him for his long service, which despite the current situation I'm sure he's earned. He'll also be out of the chain of operational command so he won't be able to do any damage and we won't have to worry about sanctioning him for it. If we make it out to be an official request from the crown, then he'll probably bite. Something on the lines of a final duty that we must regretfully ask of him despite our desire to allow him a peaceful retirement for all his hard work. It will fit well with olden days of glory."
"Good, that's how it shall be done, then. Is there anything else you need?"
"Yes mother." Jerod says, remembering a question from long ago and realizing he has the time to ask it now. "I know that Rebman woman can choose the sex of the child they bear. Morganthe did it for Random. I've wondered, why did you give Dad a son?"
She turns her head to one side. "Don't let anyone oversell you on that premise, but some of us can, yes. Why you? You were what he wanted."
"And what did you want?" Jerod asks.
She waves a hand around and then stops smiling. "Not to lose my child on the Pattern in the basement like I lost my sister."
Jerod's focus narrows considerably. "Morganthe tried to walk the Pattern?"
Rilsa's voice drops and her head moves towards Jerod. "Yes, that how your aunt killed herself. Why do you think it's off-limits?"
Jerod looks at her, more bits of knowledge clicking into place as he parses the knowledge, fitting in Random and Martin and Moire. Each piece adjusting slightly to explain an action here, an emotion there. Remorselessly, efficiently. But though the pieces fit, his mind rebels at the action that is described to him.
"Off-limits..." he says, turning for a moment, trying to focus. "It's not off-limits, it's wrong." and he pauses again, the hint of disbelief in his voice as he tries to work out what he is hearing.
"She's not...I mean, she wasn't Family. Yes, she was from Moins' but...
"Why would she do it? Why would she even think to use it?"
Rilsa hesitates. "Something Random said to her, I assume. She didn't say and we couldn't ask afterwards." She's as agitated as Jerod has ever seen her.
"Random." Jerod says, looking at his mother more intently now. It is a look she would recognize, that his father would recognize, the look he does not show to others, the intelligence they both helped to forge, working, fitting, sifting.
"Random saw something." he says, fitting pieces, trying to see if the puzzle fits. "Morganthe was the offspring of Moins, second generation. The blood thins...Chaos diminishes, spreading thin." and he remembers a phrase from an uncle. "Moins was to Rebma what Oberon was to Amber. Llewella was of Moins and Oberon, and the hold solidifies. She walked it, but her daughter...may not have walked it. The blood may be too thin."
Then he stares at her. "Morganthe didn't suicide herself on the Pattern. She tried to walk it. She tried to gain its power."
He puts out his hand. "Give me your hand mother."
She stares back, angrily, and does not offer her hand to him. "Trying to gain power that you know will kill you is committing suicide, Jerod. Whatever he said to her, she killed herself because of it. It was not a charge he disputed."
"That he did not dispute the charge does not make it true mother." Jerod replies. "There are many layers to truth and too many people see only the truths that suit them, for their own reasons. Reality, is another matter."
Rilsa's words are calm and slow, as if she's explaining something to a very bright child. "Jerod. I know you want him not to be guilty. But he is. He told her something about the pattern, she walked it, she died. He might as well have cut her head off. I know you like him, he's likable, but that doesn't mean he didn't kill your aunt."
And he summons the Pattern. He needs to see if the seed of reality that defines one with the blood exists in his mother, even if it is faint. He needs to see if it exists in the line of Moins.
[What are you attempting to do with the pattern? Manipulate probability or move in shadow have never worked in Rebma, and do not work now.]
He needs to use the Pattern as a comparator against the external environment and objects within it. A previous comment made indicated that walking the Pattern allowed a hardening of individual reality. However, to do that the blood or whatever it is that allows initiates to use the Pattern must already exist in that individual. Jerod wants to use it to see if there is a resonance in Rilsa, to see if that seed exists, like a filter to view varying wavelengths of radiation to see if there is activity at that level that cannot be detected normally. He has a theory that the line of Moins has the pattern seed (Rebma's), even if it's faded or thin, and he wants to test that theory (which has nothing really to do with proving or disproving Random's involvement, which Jerod actually doesn't disagree with from the Rebman side of things, though there are always two sides to every story).
(or is that three sides?)
It does not work. Jerod doesn't learn anything, except that he is too close to a pattern to use it. It reminds him of trying to use the Pattern in Amber, back when he first went there.
After a brief pause, Jerod provides his mother with an exasperated look. "You know mother, sometimes you need to remember that I'm older than eighteen." he says.
"I don't want him to be not guilty. It's an accepted truth that he screwed up. That's not the point mother. The point that I'm trying to make is...what did he say to Morganthe, why did he say it, why did she listen to it and why did she act on it?" as he ticks through his fingers to each point. "Why, why, why?"
He shakes his head to clear it, thinking on the need for Sorcery. Then he quotes to her an old lesson she had given him many years ago. "The end result of an individual's actions are important only insofar as a clear understanding of the individual's motivations can be discerned. One must also understand the repercussion of those motivations amongst those centered socially around the individual. Actions without motives remain an indecipherable mystery."
Rilsa seems impatient with Jerod's lesson.
"Now that Random is king, it behooves me to understand him. That my aunt is dead is not relevant though it by no means makes it any less grievous. I doubt I could count how many men he might have killed but those deaths will not weigh on him. Her death will, just as its effects weigh on Martin, and that will also weigh on Random. Just as that action weighs on you, and on grandmother.
"Anything that helps me to understand that, helps me to understand him, and you."
"You need to act older than eighteen to be treated as if you are. You don't know everything and you can't control everything, especially how people feel. Telling people how not to feel was one of your father's faults. Try not to let it be yours.
"You and your officer should get back to your troops. I have work to do as well."
Rilsa turns and goes further into the castle's private rooms.
Last modified: 18 February 2007