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The whole of Amber seemed to be awash in silence. No one felt much like speaking. Business was conducted in hushed tones. Most people seemed distracted, and of course they all were. Everyone, from the meanest peasant to the most noble of dignitaries, was waiting for the inevitable news. Olin, King of Amber, was on his deathbed, and had been too sick to even eat or drink for weeks. His supernatural endurance had been drained, slowly but surely, of a mysterious cause that simply could not be explained. Of all the people who might understand the working of their own inner Pattern and how to stop this disease, it was Olin, and yet he was falling prey to it, helpless to prevent it.
Worst of all was the king's own silence. Even in his weakened state, it seemed he was aware of what went on around him, but yet he named no heir.
His wife, the Queen Eileen, had stayed in her room, away from the man, taking what comfort she could from her son Vaelus. The eldest son, Bator, stood watch by his father's bedside, and occassionally Svaltus would enter the room as well to check in. He would make brief eye contact with Bator before heading out to wait elsewhere. The only other child to see him before his will to live finally gave out was the young Princess Dubiel, born out of wedlock but still raised in Amber like most of his children. She sang a song for him, one of his favorites that he had sung for her as a lullaby when she was young. A noted bard and shapechanger, she appeared to her father in her true form, drawing out a smile from the old man. As she entered the final verse, the old man flickered his hand, motioning for Bator to come nearer, and patted the eldest's hand with his own.
The king was barely a shadow of his former self. He seemed skeletal, shrunken, barren of the superior vitality that had defined him all his life. He then closed his eyes and went to sleep. Svaltus entered the room several seconds later, followed closely by Vaelus. Dubiel finished her song, and then sat back. The king was still, his chest barely rising.
Then there came a gust of wind as the window on the far side of the chamber blew open. The light of the sun shown onto the king's bed, and his body seemed to glow golden as if infused now with the Pattern itself. Amazed, the four children turned to the window to see a ghostly vision of the Unicorn, floating in the middle of the air just outside the window. The Unicorn was known to be the spiritual representation of the Pattern itself, much as the Serpent was known to be the representation of the Logrus. To see the Unicorn is considered to be a sign of good fortune, yet for whom was this sign of the Unicorn meant to bless?
Eventually the Unicorn turned and then its image blew away into nothingness with the wind -- gone as quickly as it had come. When they turned their eyes to the bed, they discovered that Olin's body was gone as well. There was no trace of him left.
Amber was rulerless, and without a named heir.
Worst of all was the king's own silence. Even in his weakened state, it seemed he was aware of what went on around him, but yet he named no heir.
His wife, the Queen Eileen, had stayed in her room, away from the man, taking what comfort she could from her son Vaelus. The eldest son, Bator, stood watch by his father's bedside, and occassionally Svaltus would enter the room as well to check in. He would make brief eye contact with Bator before heading out to wait elsewhere. The only other child to see him before his will to live finally gave out was the young Princess Dubiel, born out of wedlock but still raised in Amber like most of his children. She sang a song for him, one of his favorites that he had sung for her as a lullaby when she was young. A noted bard and shapechanger, she appeared to her father in her true form, drawing out a smile from the old man. As she entered the final verse, the old man flickered his hand, motioning for Bator to come nearer, and patted the eldest's hand with his own.
The king was barely a shadow of his former self. He seemed skeletal, shrunken, barren of the superior vitality that had defined him all his life. He then closed his eyes and went to sleep. Svaltus entered the room several seconds later, followed closely by Vaelus. Dubiel finished her song, and then sat back. The king was still, his chest barely rising.
Then there came a gust of wind as the window on the far side of the chamber blew open. The light of the sun shown onto the king's bed, and his body seemed to glow golden as if infused now with the Pattern itself. Amazed, the four children turned to the window to see a ghostly vision of the Unicorn, floating in the middle of the air just outside the window. The Unicorn was known to be the spiritual representation of the Pattern itself, much as the Serpent was known to be the representation of the Logrus. To see the Unicorn is considered to be a sign of good fortune, yet for whom was this sign of the Unicorn meant to bless?
Eventually the Unicorn turned and then its image blew away into nothingness with the wind -- gone as quickly as it had come. When they turned their eyes to the bed, they discovered that Olin's body was gone as well. There was no trace of him left.
Amber was rulerless, and without a named heir.