Borlak-Mine is Rage

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A Jeweled Amber file

When King Random required Articles of Submission in connection to their swearing official fealty, this is what was received from Prince Borlak, Hetman of the Flowing Horde.


Mine is Rage

I pull the mane of my horse to face the east.

That way lay Amber. Amber is death.

Random demands I write a Letter of Submission upon his ascension to the throne. Submit I shall not, but this I will write.

I swore by the Tiger to stay from the paths that lead to War with what I only at sword-point call my homeland. I have no home save my horse's saddle and a jurt on wheels. And from time to time I loose them too. So in the end I have no home, except my rage.

Red, my eyes weep the tears of vengeance denied. Perhaps only postponed.

He comes to me. Tiger. Fur thick as a forest, warm as the sun. Blood hot on his tongue. And I? I am his champion, Borlak, Hetman of the Flowing Horde of the Rentar. Rightful King of Amber.

Behind me a million horseman, 10 million slaves, and a billions dead. Do I care? No. I take the women I want, or the young boys, and give them to the others when I am done. We do not slay a pretty wench till she is long past use. Then she goes into the grinder to feed the dogs. Ours is not a wasteful life. I have too many mouths to feed to waste meat, or to waste beef on dogs.

Once I rode at Oberon's side. His son. He swore on the day that I drew him from a dragon's belly that he would have no heir but me, no son in his heart but me, not oath-mate but me. We shared a woman to bond his oath and we fed her to fish with wicked sharp teeth together.

We made war together. He swore I would be King in Amber. To do as I want with the lands, castles, the daughters, and young sons of the dandy elite of that green place. That I would harrow the weak, raise the strong and eat the dead till Amber was the mightiest of Empires and chaos would bow at our feet. I stood beside him as he planted a tree to mark where our lands ended and our future lay. We made war from Ang Ri to Rentar to Gashnir to Kashfra, but what did he tell me in the end?

My company was not gentle enough for Amber. Those of the Court would not love one who takes. Would not follow a cruel man. He was not cruel? Eric was not cruel? Eric, who had ridden at our side on many a battle-plain, had lain his sword at my feet in homage and draped himself over a fence rail for my use. How could he be king in Amber and not I?

Did Bleys not learn weaponry at my knee? Horsemanship? Dominance? Did Corwin and I not cast dice for the spoils of war? Did Eric and I not learn cruelty from the same teachers?

Am I not a true Prince of Amber? Does not a portrait of me hang in the Family Gallery?

I am. It does.

No submission this, Random. None from me will you gain. When I set foot in Amber I come as a conqueror.

But that is not a fight I will start. The case of war is one that must be brought on me. Start it and I shall see it to the end and suck the marrow of dandy bones on the steps of Kolvir. The women of Amber shall suck to save their lives.

In fealty to none, in submission to none, I remain,

Borlak, Rightful King of Amber

Jeweled Amber