Second Coming (The Kier and Creampuff)

With nothing to add as his twin wrapped up the report, Kieran stands a little taller, with a sense of fulfillment at having brought information of the enemy to the King.

We did our duty, reported the traitors, and returned with information. We have done well love.

Now, we must make ready for the war against Amber's foes.

Fiona and Random share a look. Then they look at the twins.

"Well done with all those adventures," he begins, "and defending yourself and making your way back here. Bravo. Really. Couple of questions. First, could you please describe this Prospero person and repeat what he said? He's clearly important and you two are our only eyewitnesses."

"Um, he had long dark bear skin, and fur, robes. Clean shaven. Middle aged. His eyes were two colors, dark blue and light blue. Dark hair, pale skin, thin. Clean shaven."

Her voice slips into a sort of bored monotone, as she recites: "young lady I don't mean to be pry but did you by any chance reveal to branwen that you were from amber if so you really should leave she warned you you must have made a good impression then but that warning was hardly about any danger I represent rather her other employers almost certainly noticed you and have forces en route that monocle it allows them to monitor their every move each sight and sound and I fear they are rather paranoid on the subject of amber headstrong and violent a not uncommon combination sad to say I wonder what you think was going on back there never mind you're safer where you are this shadow lies at the edge of a distortion layer you probably don't know what that is not too many do they aren't that common to tell the truth I suspect you won't believe me if I tell you but for what it's worth the effects of trump and even ordinary hellriding are subtly warped for generations men have come here for exactly that reason yonder castle is an outpost of same I wouldn't mention unicorns here if I were you but you'll do as you will no doubt despite everything prospero wishes you well"

"You see? He is our enemy! Now can I question the prisoners?"

Kieran adds "You forgot his magflonqingic armor."

Kieran sounds slightly irritated, either due to the armor thwarting his violence, or because, "The false Creampuff has much to answer for, do you have tools of persuasion ready for their discussion Uncle, or should I jaunt to the smithy and kitchen and see what I can use to improvise?"

"Either way I am ok with."

"Since when can I deny you anything that you find joyous? Of course, you can darling. I'm curious what it is you've got in mind though. Whenever we work together, things seem to be so much more enlightening."

"Well, do you remember the spell I could never get to work, to replicate that one instance of pain across other subjects? I've been thinking about why that didn't work. The neural structure for each person or being is just unique, and while we each interpret them more or less the same, replicating the sensations or the waveforms across other beings just results in confusing signals that don't actually mean much. So... what we need to do is to replicate the larger environmental context that's causing the pain, so that it will cause similar effects in any subject, which would then be individually converted into that subject's version of pain. It's an 'outside-in' approach, instead."

"I think the best way would be simply to consume the nerve endings, somehow. Maybe a biological entity, conjured to suit the essence of the subject? Like a retro-virus, that can only eat a certain being's nerve cells. Um... no... that would take too long. Oh, I know... something larger. Still tiny, but maybe some kind of mite, that can only gain sustenance from the subject's nerves. Initial sensations should be instant. If I increase the breeding rate, it could grow fast enough to move through the subject's body quickly. It would also more quickly die out, once the subject ran out of nerve cells."

Turning her gaze back to Random and Fiona, "So, prisoners? Where are they?"

"I thought you had said a neurophage wouldn't work, tailoring it to a person's unique structures would be too time consuming to make it practical? Or has something come up? A limiter like quickly expiring upon running out of food is a safety precaution that should be introduced."

Kieran moves and embraces his twin with passion, their masks touching where a kiss would have been placed. "Love, your ideas amaze me more each day."

Vialle speaks. "Fiona, have either of you heard this name--Prospero--before now?"

"I haven't," says Random.

"Dworkin mentioned that name once," Fiona says, "a couple of centuries ago. I went to see him about some technical questions about the Jewel of Judgment. Found him sitting cross-legged on a beach, staring at these odd animals Brand had brought from Shadow somewhere. They were like winged cats. Didn't survive after a single generation. Dworkin was fascinated by the way they flew around, hunting, so much so I don't think he even noticed my coming. And then he said something like Prospero would love you to the winged cats. Under his breath."

Random thinks for a moment. "That...might be arranged. Mind you, our grandfather is a little eccentric. Obtuse even."

"If by question, you mean torture," says Fiona, "the answer is no. For one thing, that would be really, really dangerous. For you, mostly."

"I have alot of questions for him. Please let us know when the time is appropriate for him to see us."

Remembering something from their first arrival at Amber, "Uncle, we were told you would take us into the tomb of our Father. Do you think this could be arranged today?"

Offering his arm to Kierenne, "Perhaps after we've discussed matters with the guests downstairs. They are downstairs aren't they? That seems to be the fashion and where normally the unsavory sort are kept. Along with petty criminals and Traitors."

Why won't they focus on the important thing like getting answers from Branwen and Cre, er, Skimpuff. There is a chuckle over the connection.

Random says "I'd be glad to escort you. Immediately, in fact." He stands. "Oh, and you needn't worry about learning all that can be learned from Branwen. Already done." He wipes his mouth with a napkin. "Shall we go?"

"I'd like to accompany you if I may," offers Fiona.

Kieran's face drops down, his voice dropping in disappointment, "You already played with them?"

Wait, they only tortured the woman Kierenne threw to me...

Perking up again, "After Father's, we can find out what Skimpuff knows!"

"Lord Horatio is an expert on learning things," assures Random as he kisses his queen's cheek and heads out. Fiona rises and follows after.

"As we head to Eric's tomb, I'll tell you all we learned."

Maybe this Horatio did it right.

Turning with his twin on his arm, Kieran walks with thier aunt and uncle towards King Eric's tomb.

But I doubt it.

"Uncle, what has been learned? And when can we question Great Grandfather? I would prefer it to be after Skimpuff's session. Something we learn there maybe worthwhile for future conversations."

Kierenne allows her brother to lead her, while waiting to hear what her Uncle says.

"This Branwen person was hired twice. First by a group in the Shadow called the Nexus, who gave her the monocle and gave some training. They call themselves the Oracle Group, and wanted her to travel around the Golden Circle gathering what information she could find, but especially about the House of Oberon. Yet she was under strict instructions not to approach any of us, with a hint that if the opportunity arose to capture a younger member of the family they'd take advantage. You, Kierrenne, made it all too clear that here was precisely what they were looking for. Just as well. Branwen (not her real name incidentally) tried to warn you off because while accepting the Oracle Group's funds and running their errands seemed harmless enough, actually hurting anyone was not what she desired. Hence her warning to you."

"Of course, they also wanted her to keep an eye out for Fergus, and anyone with eyes either golden or purple in color. This Oracle Group promoted a paranoid view of Amber and these efforts were presented as a preventative measure to protect the Nexus from future invasion. She was hardly the only employee, which means Horatio's agents even now are scouring the Golden Circle for those with monocles."

Deeply affronted, Kierenne stops walking. "I did no such thing. I talked about Grandfather... my [b]Maternal]/b] grandfather, in passing, and then asked about the Nexus. I talked about having only recently seen Amber and Rebma, and the strangeness of it all. And there was no deception there, nor with my confusion at all the Unicorn decoration. There's no way she could interpret a lack of connection with all things Amber as some kind of implied claim to greatness."

This Horatio is a buffoon, then. And if he believed this claptrap, I'm sure they've released her back to Begma. Or the Nexus. Or wherever she came from. Honestly, it's like they're not even really trying to hold on to their kingdom. I hate to say it, but maybe Grandfather was right about Father's family.

In her annoyance, Kierenne prods herself in the leg, trying to be discreet. [Power Word: Pain]

"Where is Branwen now, if I may ask? And what of Skimpuff? I would very much like to talk to them both, once we're done visiting Father. And Dworkin." Her voice shifts to a lilting tone, easily recognizable by anyone not raised by wolves [e.g. - not Fergus or the Kier] as someone pretending to be nonchalant, "So much to do, these days."

Stopping with Kierenne, If they have let her go, then we will find her and take care of matters. We may have to do what is needed. Uncle may not be able to due to royal obligations. Even though Amber is Real and everyshadow isn't. We'd actually be doing him a favor, removing this unsavory sort who's been spying. He just can't admit it.

"Yes, there is much that needs doing."

"The potions Horatio uses," says Fiona, "are extremely effective. One good swallow and lying becomes close to impossible. A full goblet and you'll spill every detail in response to any question asked."

"Evidently," continues Random, "this lady Branwen, who has quite a bit more life experience than either one of you, being three times your age after all, also accepted employment by someone she described as a man in long dark robes, pale, cleanshaven, with stringy black hair, and eyes two different shades of blue."

"Which attack?" asks Fiona.