Gatwegian Return

Celina smiles at Fletcher and tilts her chin in obvious invitation to join her with her brother.

Fletcher makes eye contact and nods. He sips from his fresh drink and strides toward the siblings. He starts to straighten up as he nears Her Majesty, but then reminds himself of the more modern family protocol in play. He grins. "This is quite the assembly. Your father is an excellent host to stand in for Random. If he were also busy I assume the duty would fall to you. It is good to see you again, both of you." He nods to Merlin over his drink.

"The pleasure is mine, cousin," Merlin says, but before he can add more, there's a distraction across the room.

The conversation between Fiona and Paige appears to have paused for a moment, and then there's a shimmer in the air and Fiona is bringing through Raven, Jerod, a young man whom nobody recognizes, and last, but not least, Brita. They're all straight from the field: dirty, blood-streaked, and stinking of exertion and carnage.

At the same time, the door opens and Ambrose lets Gerard wheel in. Gerard takes in the scene and says, "Well. Looks like you've arrived just in time for dinner."

Celina leans near to Fletcher and responds with a bigger smile, "There is no shortage of hosting. Enough to fill the area several times over. I almost think I can taste it in the air." She leans back out, to see if people start moving towards the food tables. Celina seems to have no particular hunger pangs herself.

"What is your own clear worry in recent days, Cousin?" Celina asks Fletcher as if this has been a conversation ongoing with Merlin that he just neatly stepped into.

Fletcher pauses a moment, pondering how to best express his concerns. "Recently it seems as if, for some time now, a great deal more of our 'family secrets' have been known to a much wider circle, and in greater detail, than had previously been imagined. Knowledge of the Pattern in particular, seems to be in the hands of certain parties. The attacks on Marius and on the Pattern in Rebma indicate a knowledge of how to conduct such an attack. Descriptions of Corwin's Avalon also imply that unfriendly parties may have had had access to at least some basic information for quite a while. The breadcrumbs pile up when the opposition is highly organized and has made a centuries-long business out of accumulating information. I know we should probably be out there beating the bushes and looking under rocks in shadows trying to find them, but recently I've had some time to wonder what we can learn from ponder their sources of information, their methods, and history. It may even help us figure out what their motives are. While these modern-day monks seem to be enemies of the family and willing to act against the Pattern, I haven't yet seen any evidence that they are actually opposed to the central inspiration of Order itself."

Celina pauses after all that and glances at Merlin to see if he has a reaction. It might gain purchase with him that Others would oppose Dara at all costs.

She thinks about the dead defenders of her city, Huon's willingness to run over small people in his way, the continued suffering of Rebma, and the string of catastrophes to Order including possibly her own death in the near future. She smiles a bit at Fletcher, "Possible allies then against larger Aberrations?"

Fletcher frowns. "I thinks the odds of recruiting them as allies are small. Just because they don't oppose Order in general doesn't mean they don't oppose us. Still, the possibility exists. And regardless, they probably have information about other parties of interest. Getting their information could be useful."

"If we treat them like they themselves are Lords of Chaos," Merlin says, "we can ally with them--or individuals of their group--if needed, and expect them to turn on us at other times. They may be our enemies at times and still be willing to act against Chaos, or Ghenesh, or some other powerful foe if it suits their purpose. The question with such a temporary alliance is whether we can obtain more from our use of them than they obtain from us, which we cannot know without more intelligence on them than we currently seem to possess." He tilts his head to Fletcher by way of agreement with Fletcher's point.

"At this point, things have gone so far that I'm not sure honor would allow our family to pursue that course. Blood has not only been drawn, but misused. As group, do you think our relations would stay their wrath for any length of time?"

Celina does not interrupt the question to Merlin by offering her own admissions. She just keeps focus and looks intrigued.

Merlin shrugs with some indifference to the question of honor. "Huon was involved in the same matter and yet he is to be welcomed in conclave tomorrow. You tell me."

"Indeed," Celina adds quickly, "I myself did not think I could forgive Huon but it was necessary that I change for the good of the City. Once you experience the pain of such change, you may be able to do even more." And bear even more pain, her eyes say.

Fletcher nods slowly, acknowledging both the words and the subtext. "It is admirable to for one such as we..." He gestures around the room with his glass. "To be able to make in the right choice when finding that the path of duty, which calls for reconciliation, diverges from the path of honor, which calls for punishment." He raises his glass in salute. "But I guess we are all bringing our own worries to this assembly. For my part, I'm bringing the tale of long and boring reconnaissance sailing in frigid waters. Of long nights and short days, and the important news of which path our enemies are not using. What news (and worries) have the two of you brought to Xanadu?"

"Our father asked me to 'scout out' the Moonriders," Merlin says with a glance at Celina, "and I expect that to be a topic of conversation tomorrow. I believe there are others here who may have information about them or their doings, but I have yet to consult, so I do not know the details." Which he doesn't seem to like but is not consumed by worry about, to the extend that either Celina or Fletcher can read him.

"I can hardly wait to find out more about the Moonriders," Celina answers in exaggerated monotone. "Slippery time tricks are not what I need added to my list." Celina shifts in Fletcher's direction. "We have a Dark Mother cult in Rebma. The Triton authorities have told us it is nothing to worry about, they will certainly take care of it. I'm not convinced."

Merlin looks at his sister and frowns, misliking this news.

Fletcher looks down into his drink for a moment. He looks up at the siblings. "Cults, or belief systems requiring any sort of faith really, do not come about without some inciting inspiration. The Tritons may well deal with the Cult. Inspiration is not as easily 'dealt with.' What are the key distinctions of this most current Cult?"

Celina pauses. She nods once. "Basically there are tritons falling away from the Pledge to Rebma. It is described as a small group. The talk is that the Mother of Dragons was tricked into the Peace Oath. These Cultists are violent and an embarrassment to the Heirophant. So he wishes to deal with them himself."

Fletcher grins, possibly from sipping his drink, possibly in reaction to what Celina has said. "A suspiciously specific ideology. One might make a distinction between dealing with the cultists themselves and dealing with the agency behind them. You might make the argument that the Heirophant would lose no face if he dealt with the challenge to his authority while Rebma investigated the origins. How well do you know the Heirophant?"

Merlin, having nothing to offer here, shakes his head in the negative.

Celina looks at Merlin a moment, then looks back to Fletcher, "The Heirophant is not a friend, he is an oathpartner to the Throne. I have not tried to become closer, the Tritons generally do not like the two legs so much at the best of times. That said, I could ask other Tritons I know better about the man behind the office. Good thought."

She goes on, "Are you volunteering to investigate the origins of the problem? What are your qualifications?" And she smiles. The smile is warm and does not have the tiniest bit of 'this is a trap' in it.

Fletcher rolls his eyes. "Qualified? I'm hardly up on current affairs in Rebma. If there's a question of race relations involved I'd probably stick out like a sore thumb. But sometimes that's the best way to flush out hidden things. I could certainly ask questions. It can't be any more dangerous than dealing with slippery time tricks, can it? I'm not at all certain what the family protocol for this sort of thing is. Do you know if Random intends to hand out assignments at this meeting? I may be given a different assignment. Still though, the idea of investigating the origins of this cult does hold a certain appeal." For a moment, Fletcher seems to be giving the matter serious thought. "How serious do you think the problem might be?"

"If the problem is ego and pride between Heirophant and lost souls, that's bad," Celina says. "If the problem is broken oaths and rousing the anger of the Dame Dragon? That's a long dagger in my back through the kidney."

Fletcher looks around the room and then faces Celina. "I take it many people in the family are familiar with the issues around Triton politics already. I myself would need at least a primer on the oaths involved, as well as the implications of "Dame Dragon" and "Dark Mother".

Merlin is still listening and watching this go back and forth, a bit like a ping-pong game over his head.

"I think you will find the explanations... suitably dark and mysterious," Celina says. "The Dame Dragon is the Mother of Tritons. She lives in the Nedra Kelp Beds, a kind of labyrinth outlying Rebma farming lands. She made to the oath of service for the Sons of the Dragons, the Tritons, with the Sapphire Throne, as a result of losing a war with the City and her Amber allies."

Celina goes on, "And the Dark Mother is the fiction of an angry Dame, one who was tricked into the Oath and seeks a way out of it. This is the false painting of the Cultists."

Fletcher nods. "What could these cultists hope to gain? Or rather what might they credibly promise their followers? Territory? Wealth? Or merely autonomy? How much interaction do Tritons have with everyday Rebmans? Are there known to be any Rebman who may claim sympathy with what they believe the plight of the Tritons to be?"

"If you believe you are enslaved in an unjust cause, or if you think your honor was tricked into an oath," Celina responds softly, "you gain back justice if it is exposed. Or revenge if your own people will not support your logic to the cause. Revenge works below the sea as it does above the sea, but the blood spreads further."

Celina sighs, "As for interactions with everyday Rebmans, the Tritons themselves are not good with the small 'soft-ones', and prefer their privacy. While the people can rightly say to fear the power of the Tritons and want them living elsewhere. We have a rebuilding of neighborhoods going on, which you might enjoy talking to Huon of the Horn about, as he is in charge of it. This may lift the spirits of the Tritons a bit, and lay false the claim their oath is not respected by the Throne."

Celina lowers her voice, "As for history and freedom for the Tritons from their long toil, they swore a promise. But what the previous queen wanted, and what I have done, is to ease their isolation, and to raise expectations they be treated as partners and not losers of a war fought centuries ago. There have been Rebman politics that wanted to free them completely from their bindings----Queen Moire executed most of those Sympathizers."

Merlin looks like he might have had something to say about that last, but he decides against and lets Fletcher reply.

Before Fletcher can answer, a blonde woman enters the room, looking round and smiling a bit nervously at some of the relatives assembled in the room. She's tall, blonde, and hearty, and though she's cleaned up as much as Jerod and the rest, she's also clearly come from some sort of field situation: she's wearing trousers and her shirt has some stains on it, and her hair's a bit flyaway. When she locates Gerard, she comes to him at once, nodding apologetically at Raven. "Father," she says, "I've been told my exile is lifted. Is the King here?"

Gerard's voice takes on that loud and booming quality that got him heard over many a storm. "I'm acting as Regent, and in the King's name, I lift your exile, Solange. You are welcome to Xanadu. Be at peace--and get a plate. It's dinner."

Fletcher glances at the newcomer, and turns back to Celine and Merlin. "It definitely sounds as if some must be stirring them up just to mess with you. But but who's that?" he gestures toward the newcomer. "I hadn't heard tales of anyone being exiled. Is she as dangerous as Huon? How long had she been gone? People in exile are excellent suspects when considering who might be stirring up unrest."

Celina nods once, realizes that Merlin may also be wondering some things and speaks in a more intimate tone, "That's Solange, daughter of Gerard, and an unlikely person to be rousing unrest in Rebma or elsewhere. She is just returned as I had thought her banished to shadow for crossing the Throne some months back." The rest of that is not her story to tell, nor will it help the mood of having a cousin back in the circle of Family right now.

Merlin looks to Celina, again, and adds, "I believe the King has announced amnesty from all exiles for this gathering."

Celina pauses in a small embarrassment, "Yes, Fletcher, I did get that word and should have said immediately, Family has been given an amnesty. So any who do not come, cannot accept it, I presume." Celina passes Merlin an obvious look to go with that reference to his mother and others at odds with the Xanadu contingent. She looks back at Fletcher. "In point, Huon is here with me as part of the Rebma delegation. I'm not sure he'll come tonight."

Fletcher nods. "Certainly understandable. Let the spirit of regrouping and reconciliation build a little bit before putting it to too big a test. The whole effort is certainly worthwhile. I suppose I'm just as bad as the others in terms of jumping right to suspecting family members of things." The look on Fletcher's face betrays mixed feelings on his observation. "So that's Gerard's daughter Solange. I do remember something about it. I feel like I owe her an apology now. I figured that that mess would've blown over by now. My timing must be off. My other always said I had a tendency to lose track of time." He smiles, and then perhaps... shivers? when he realizes how long it's been since he saw his mother for the last time. "Maybe this gather means Random or Corwin have some information that the sources of problems are not currently members of the Court.... or Courts now I suppose. Well, the family, at any rate. Unless there are any family members who are refusing to attend? I should study an updated family tree."

Celina nods once. "We could all use a refresher of the Family Tree. Conner is good at that." Celina looks around but does not see her Stalwart. "I certainly thought he would be here by now. Brennan then." And in looking about, does not find that worthy either. She puts finger to her lower lip. "Something is going on that isn't Random-generated. I wonder when we find out? Tomorrow?"

"It appears that people are still arriving," Merlin says, noting Lilly's entry following on Solange. "And there are others in the castle who have not joined us, or left, like Prince Garrett." He glances at Fletcher, adding with a bit of amusement, "Given how many of us there are, and how much trouble still left over from the war, I doubt we need family divisions beyond those that already exist to have enough trouble from the war. Especially if we are to travel in twos and threes again, which I believe Random decreed some time ago. I," he adds, "was told about this rule only in the aftermath."

"Oh, that's news to me." Fletcher remarks, touched by his Dad's confidence in sending him off on a solo recon mission for months. "Was there more recent trouble that prompted that decree?"

Celina sees Conner eating alone after Gerard and Lily shift locations. "A summary with Conner would help. We should move over there and see if he is amenable."

Brita hugs her mother briefly as the rainbow fades into reality. "We will Talk Later," she states as her she scans the room and spots her brother. She hurries over to him as everyone begins to move towards the promise of food for another brief hug and a "Well Met, Brother." She nods at Ossian assuming he is still there, "Cousin."

Brita is treated to one of Conner's brightest smiles. "Good to see you, Brita."

Ossian bows. "Nice entrance, Cousin. No polishing." This seems to be a compliment without irony. "Who are we fighting?"

After a brief hesitation, Raven follows Brita.

"Mages," she says dryly. "And clouds of dust. Hello, Ossian. And you must be Conner...?" That's about half a guess on her part.

Conner's smile slips from its previous brightness to a lower wattage. "I am indeed, Raven. I am indeed. A pleasure to meet after hearing the name in passing." Conner offers Raven his hand to clasp.

Raven returns the gesture with a nod and a smile.

"Hello, Raven," Ossian answers. "As in sentient clouds?"

"More like Dust of Demolition created by a An Elder Doing Something with Sorcery," Brita notes. She is brushing surreptitiously at her coat, but not getting very far on sprucing up. "What were You Doing before The Summons?" She arcs a querying eyebrow at both Ossian and Conner in turn.

Ossian grins "I and Silhouette were doing some spying on the Klybesians. Sadly they found out, so we had to...break things... and run."

"I was with Brennan in the lands around Avalon. Oddly, we were trying to prevent the people we were from breaking things but there was rapid movement. Oh, and we think the Silver Towers of Corwin's legend may have risen from the sea. Still looking into that."

Brita noted the dimming of the smile when Conner greets Raven and raises an eyebrow slightly at her brother. She had found Cousin Raven acceptable company but wonders if Conner knows something she doesn't.

"So You had Towers Raised and We had Towers Razed," Brita smiles again. "An Interesting Dichotomy. Shall we head to Dinner?"

Raven snorts. "Brita, I know I'm fresh meat for this family dinner thing and all," she says dryly, "but I'm pretty sure you and I ought to get rid of some of this first. If only so we ain't eating grit with the food." She brushes at her coat sleeve pointedly - if pointlessly. "Or feathers from those damned birds. Conner..." She pauses, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. "Can you and I talk later? Got a personal question, I guess."

Conner's smile brightens again and the observant would notice the heave in the chest of a barely suppressed laugh. "Certainly. If you ask it very politely, I might even have a personal answer for you." Conner chuckles. "How about directly after dinner? Tomorrow is likely to be full of officialdom and Family writ large."

Ossian listens to this exchange with obvious delight. He pours himself a new glass of white before looking around the room.

Brita is looking at her coat in confusion through this exchange. She brushes a little dust off her coat, then takes it off and shakes it briefly before putting it back on. In Asgard, this was standard dress for dinner in Valhalla's Hall. "If You Need to Change," Brita says to Raven, "I can Wait for you."

Raven starts to say something, stops as she thinks better of whatever it was, and then just shakes her head slightly. "...Aye. I think I'm going to do that," she settles on. "And I figure I can probably do polite, so after dinner would work just fine. I'm guessing I shouldn't stand around if I'm going to clean up...?"

"Well the best we could do here is a spray from the soda water dispenser." Conner gestures toward the bar then turns back to face Raven. "There should be some pages hovering in the hallway that can show you to a place to clean up. I'd send one of them to set up rooms for you if Gilt Winter hasn't done so already."

Ossian turns to Brita. "Don't worry. You look absolutely magnificent. Much better than in some over elaborate formal dinner clothing."

"Thank you, Cousin," Brita smiles at Ossian. "Shadow Asgard Never developed truly Elaborate Dress. Even Grandda Odin Often wore his Leathers to The Feast."

Raven just shakes her head. "I'll be back, then," she says, and heads for the door.

Conner watches Raven go. "And on that note, I think large amounts of food are in order. I'll want something on my stomach when no doubt something will trigger the large amount of drinking typical of Family gatherings." Conner smiles and then heads over to the buffet where he starts artfully piling a plate with meat.

Brita follows her brother.

Once back amongst Family, Jerod collects a page to determine which of his own people are available after migration from Amber (got to be a few of them) and sees about getting one of them to the dinner location to arrange a minder for Phillipe, in addition to a guard as a protective escort and quarters. Jerod's explanation, should one be required for his new guest (and Jerod doesn't really think an explanation is required, but he'll indulge him) is that his visions are important and he is sure the King is going to want to know.

Jerod, of course, has people, but since Venesch isn't Captain of the Guards, they aren't as easy to find or as notable. Gilt Winter, the King's Privy Secretary, takes things in hand, and does find one of Jerod's Venesch's old guards to act as a baby-sitter for the young man. He asks Jerod, after Philippe is led off, if the boy is permitted to leave the castle. He will take care of informing the guards.

Jerod advises that Philippe is an "honored guest of the realm", so of course every possible precaution should be taken to see to his safety. At least until after he's had a chance to give his information to Random.

After that, Jerod will take care of getting him to wherever he needs to be "got".

[Gilt] also offers, in an office near the Castelan's Pantry, water and perhaps a fresh shirt, since Jerod seems to have been active in the field.

Either way, he'll open the door for Jerod when he returns to the dinner, and will close it behind him.

Jerod take the opportunity to clean up and think for a short bit. The inclusion of another individual who can apparently engage in prophecy is... unsettling to him. Too many memories.

Cleaning up from a fight becomes a very mechanical process. Remove shirt, check for blood on it to verify for injuries that aren't immediately visible. Check for signs of other things that shouldn't be there, like holes without blood or strange liquids that are not what would be expected like poisons and such.

Very mechanical.

Very methodical.

Jerod stops as he finishes drying off, almost done. Methodical never works.

"You're never satisfied with what you do." Eric says simply.

Jerod doesn't respond immediately, starts drying again. "You and mom saw to that. Nothing was ever right."

"We had to be sure you learned not to miss anything." Eric says.

"You're re-hashing old shit, you know that Dad?" Jerod asks, irritation in his voice. "You're not helping the mood."

"Why? Because Gateway isn't finished?" Eric asks.

"Nothing is ever finished with us. We're experts at the Almost Finished But Something Else Has Come Up. Why do you think people think we're such extreme opportunists? We need to be. I'm used to that now. That's not the issue." Jerod says.

"What is it then?" Cambina asks.

Jerod shakes his head. "Okay, you're not supposed to be here. And you know why it's not the issue."

"Why? Because it's too soon? You're the one who dredges me up, you know?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "Because there's too much crap going on right now. Because you're gone too soon. Because ten things are happening all at once and everyone's being pulled in separate directions. Because another uncle is on the scene and more Chaos is making its appearance. Because it's easy to get distracted and miss important details." and he stops, pausing.

"And you're a distraction I can't afford." Jerod says finally.

"Your remembrance is underwhelming." Cambina says.

He glares momentarily at her shade. "Spare me the dead wit. You know what I mean. We've got a brand new uncle on the scene, and he's about as much of a nutjob as the legends would claim. I'm balancing the Weir and they're going to be hopping to go after their Queen Betrayer and her minions. That's a war of honor and integrity to end all wars for sure, which I've no doubt they probably called it when they tried it the first time round. They tie to you and she ties to you. And our new little friend, the Light Fingered Louie with the knack for visions...he makes you more real just by having his little knack and that's not needed right now.

"Is he tied to you? Is it just a fluke? How important is it to follow it? Is it important enough to warrant uncles but doesn't actually have anything to do with you? Is it minor to the Big picture, but you're at the center? Is it both? How much do I stay there, how much do I give up, who do I pull in from the Family, and who do I block? And that's just my shit. How many other events are going on right now? How much more tie-in is there?", he asks, pulling the shirt on.

"I told you to stay dead." he says simply. "Be nice if you listened to me once in a while."

"You don't tell him to stay dead." she says, nodding towards Eric.

"I have different issues with Dad. Stuff that wasn't resolved before he died. Stuff that needed to be resolved. You were never in that category." Jerod says simply. "And I'd rather not get into a one-upmanship contest with a pair of dead memories. Trying to keep the living straight is hard enough."

She is silent for a long time, with Eric faded and gone from his focus.

"So which one do you bring in first?" she asks finally, when she knows he's made his decision.

He smiles without mirth. "The one who can dig the most." Jerod says as he stands up, settling his belt.

"And what about the war?"

He stops at the door, hand on the handle. "One thing at a time." he says as he opens the door and steps back into the dinner gathering.

"One thing at a time."