The Short Game
Patternfall was a mess, no one would say otherwise. Blood was spilled, powers shaken, Patterns repaired, and the chosen king nearly declined the office.
Chaos was defeated, sort of, since the vast populace of Chaos was unaware they were at war. The victorious Amberlites, with their new deeply reluctant king, coming marching in to the Courts was quite a spectacle. The arrival of the royals of Amber was greeted in many ways, but the overwhelming view, stated by the Swayvil, was that the House of Barilan, a rebel house of Chaos, was now a welcome cadre in Chaos.
Clearly, someone had been taking dust. But the Cults of Amberlin began, and some with powerful connections attended ceremonies.
Avalon was newly created, a fresh pattern, unsullied by the feet of kinsman or foes alike. Its creator taking his dying sister bride disappeared into the virgin shadows and seal the realm behind him.
Echoes of powers turned their eyes at the opportunity.
Returning to Amberlin, King Random was pressed by royal kinsman, revealed cousins, Golden Circle Embassies, hopeful seekers, comedians, performers, assassins and seers. An invigorated nobility fresh from the field of victory, sought favor of the new king and poached privileges never granted by Oberon.
Elders of the court, shocked at the young rogue prince attaining the throne, began speaking in hushed whispers, among their confederates and their hidden children of what course to take; Support the young king and his lovely bride in the beginning of a new era in Ambelinr? Or rip him from the throne and establish a better King in the center of the universe? And what to think of the new king speaking of establishing a Senate?
and elsewhere, old kings died, and old islands faltered, their danger red and cold. The hand wielding the red blade faltered.
Yet, a bird of black feathers and smelling of death sat on the pinnacle of Cabra and squawked his cry.
A Cat turned its head in a land of mice and left, shifting shadow.
A Falcon of many colors took flight as if burned.
Chanticleer raised his head and crowed.
An Abyssal Lord woke in the depth of the Abyss, spreading his leathery wings like death, flew straight, to clear the ridges.
The Weasel and the Ferret shared a feast of cashews, knowing the shadows shifted for them.
The New Sparrow looked high, as his father died in the waves of creation, and he felt the powers of primacy come to him.
In some places it just rained.
Above and Below, shadows shifted./>