Benedict rushed towards the Throne room, skidding to a leisurely walk when he was about in view of it. It simply wouldn't do to be out of breath or anything when walking in, but his haste served--he thought he was still in time. He checked himself out quickly again, making sure all things were in place, before entering. Once he entered, his demeanor changed as he went into 'soldier' mode. He exuded nothing but confidence and competence. It was the easiest way to live through these sorts of things. If he paused to dwell on it, he'd likely start to freak out.

The place was filling rapidly. Most of the lords and dignitaries were already present, filling in the front rows. Standing on the steps to the dais where the Throne was were the Lords Gemellon, Feldane, Henden, Karm, and a big Gamellonian Ben had never seen before. He was wearing a blazing white robe and had red pupil-less eyes. It was rather unnerving.

Bleys stepped in behind Benedict. Bleys seemed more stable than earlier, but it was hard to tell. Both of them walked practically side by side to their traditional places during such state functions--on the higher steps of the dais. It felt...wrong, though. As they were approaching the dais, Lord Karm gestured for them to come closer, like he had something he wanted to say. They approached--it was rather hard not to.

The white clad Gamellonian looked up from his conversation with Lord Karm, even as Lord Karm was saying, "Ah, here are the Princes..."

Benedict nodded slightly, "Lord Karm." Maybe I should address him as 'uncle' sometimes, see what happens? Ben thought idly, then shook off the idea. They had never been close; it would feel false.

Bleys nodded as well, declining to say anything, which was probably for the best.

"Prince Benedict. Prince Bleys. Prince Caine," Karm said, Caine being the third to approach. "May I introduce her Majesty's special military advisor, Grand Admiral Thrawn."

Bleys nodded in Thrawn's direction. Benedict nodded as well, adding, "A pleasure."

"Prince Benedict," Thrawn said bowing slightly at the waist. "Prince Bleys," punctuated with another bow. "And Prince Caine," Thrawn said in his deep but mellow voice. "I am well pleased to make your acquaintance." That voice told Ben a lot: this man was confident in his own abilities, and quite possibly unshakable when it came down to a crisis. From his stance, it also looked like he was ready for about anything, though he made it seem casual. Ben wasn't sure if he trusted him or not. "I am well pleased to make your acquaintance."

"If you will all take your place," Karm gestured to the steps above the group, "Her Majesty should be arriving momentarily. Prince Odin is expected shortly thereafter." He glanced about the room momentarily before returning his gaze to those gathered.

Ben couldn't surpress a small smile, "'Prince Odin'. Curious." He turned to Bleys, "Wonder how he's going to like that?"

"Not particularly, I suspect," Bleys replied, distracted. Ben turned back to the rest, and smiled vaguely before turning away.

"Have any of you seen the Princesses Deirdre, Fiona or Florimel?" Lord Karm asked after Ben had only ascended a couple of steps. That made Benedict stop and turn around.

"Fiona is otherwise occupied, currently," Bleys answered.

"Deirdre is also busy, I believe," Benedict said, "I believe Florimel has.. company of a delicate nature." Who said I never listened to ettiquette lessons? he thought to himself, satisfied with his answer. He glanced to Caine, then Bleys after that, making sure they didn't contradict what he said, then continued onward. He took his place on the step just below the dais, where his 'normal' spot was. It was odd standing there without Father looming above him.

The people coming into the room started to thin out and seemed in more of a hurry, and the final step leading up to the dais was beginning to glow faintly. Bleys was soon up there with him, taking Corwin's usual spot, since Corwin was MIA. There was a peal of horns, and the crowd fell silent. Lord henden drew himself up to his full height, and called out a moment later, "Her Imperial Majesty, Daughter of Oberon," and so on and so forth for some time, "Empress Llewella."

Bleys, standing next to him, whispered, "I'm still not quite comfortable with her getting Oberon's title..."

Benedict frowned inwardly, having too good an upbringing to show the frown externally. He gave Bleys a good, but subtle, whack on the leg with his sword scabbard.

The cheavy green curtains behind the throne drew back silently, and Llewella stepped onto the dais. She was wearing a gown of sheer grey silk, shimmering slightly, with the crest of Amber woven into one shoulder and her own symbol into the other. She had on the same jewelry she'd been wearing for the past several days, silver with blue and violet stones. Her hair was caught up in a very fine silver net, sparkling with tiny white gems. She was holding a green staff of sorts, formed into the shape of a lightning bolt, with a small globe at the upper end, transparent, the shape of a dolphin caught inside. She looked pale, but composed. As she walked out in full view of the crowd, the top of the dais took on the same subtle glow as the steps. She approached the throne, and stopped before it, regarding it silently for a moment. At this point, in any ceremony like this Dad would have seated himself.

Llew turned and walked toward the edge of the dais, stopping perhsp a yearard away. After a moment, it became obvious she did not intend to sit. The Lords exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable, then returned their attention to the great doors at the end of the hall.

There was a fanfare of trumpets. Benedict and everyone else turned to face the entry of Lord Odin. He was draped in robes that were awfully close to Oberon's robes of state except for the fact that they were in black and red. Chancellor Henden opened his mouth to announce Odin when a smaller man behind Odin beat him to it, "All hail Odin, Lord of Asgard, Prince of Amber, He of the Twelve Names: Alfather, Herjan, Hnikar, Hnikud, Fjolner, Oske, Ome, Biflinde, Svidar, Svidrer, Vidrer, Jalg, He Who Traded His Eye for Wisdom from the Well of Mimer, who hung from the Tree of Ygg."

All in all, it would have been impressive if Benedict knew what anything after 'Prince of Amber' meant.

Lord Henden shut his mouth with an audible snap, standing a trifle straigher. Lord Gamellon shifted slightly, and his frown deepened. The other Lords gave no apparant reaction to this.

Odin's entourage was reasonably small at about a dozen people. They were all dressed in furs and the like, and all bearing weapons--most huge and ungainly things, yet terrible in their effectiveness. Benedict had favored large swords and hammers for a while, then discarded them for a lighter blade. Most of them seemed nervous, which was a good thing, but Odin didn't. He seemed rather self-assured, and he stepped forward to address Llewella. "Beloved niece," he said with only the slightest hint of condescension. "It has been too logn since I have stood in Amber."

Benedict didn't like him on sight. Not only was the resemblance to his father unnerving, but that attitude pasted onto his father's face was almost unbearable. He found himself stiffening slightly, then forced himself to relax. At least Oberon had some good graces with him--he kept most of his superiority to himself.

So, instead, Ben swung his attention around to the other ones, giving them all a good long look and committing their faces to memory. There was a man in late middle age, with white hair and beard. There were faint outlines around his mouth and under one arm was tucked a golden harp. Close to him stood a lovely young lady, her eyes the color of sapphires. Her furs seemed more bundled than the rest, and she had a couple of fairly obvious bulging pouches.

Behind them was a man in his prime. He was tall, very muscular, and had bristling red hair and beard. He reminded Benedict of Gerard, and he sighed then, missing his brother. After a moment of comparison, he felt that it was true, except this one was frowning where Gerard would have been smiling. He leaned on a massive two-handed hammer that was glowing faintly. The hand he had on it was clad in an iron gauntlet.

The next lady was as gracious and beautiful as the first. Her hair was also golden, and her eyes of summer blue. She stood near the man with the hammer, and a long slender sword that glinted of silver was at her hip. She looked impressive, and Ben found himself wondering what she was like before shaking himself briefly, and remembering that she was his cousin.

A grim-faced man stood behind her, in full shining steel armor. All pieces except the helm was present, and his hands rested on a greatsword. He looked competent and used to danger.

The next man was also blond haired and blue-eyed. It seemed that that particular combination was common there, as black hair and blue eyes here, or red hair and green eyes. He was the only one that Ben could see smiling, and Ben was reminded of Deirdre. The sword at his side was a glimmering gold.

Standing next to him was a woman who looked to be his sister--full sister if Odin was anything like Oberon. She wore a simple breastplate and helm above flowing skirts, slit up the side for ease of movement. Her hand curled about a long spear that Ben had no doubt she could use. A cloak of falcon feathers were draped over her shoulders. Benedict found himself once again impressed, and wondered what they were like.

Behind that pair was another pair. The left man was tall and well-formed. He was handsome. Clad in armor and girded with a broad-bladed sword, he stood easily in iron shoes. The right was damn tall, and well-muscled. He wore a fur lined tunic that left much of his arms exposed. In his belt was a solid steel hammer, shorter and less warlike than the one that 'red' had.

The last of the group was also a man. His hair was so blonde it was white, and it spilled over his shoulders. His complexion was nearly as pale as his hair. His furs were of the finest ermine, and not a hair was out of place.

Benedict turned his attention back to Llewella and Odin, spying a bit of a strained look to Llewella. "Greetings, Uncle," she replied to him. "The Empire has felt most profoundly the absence of its venerable Prince. Be welcome, Lord of Asgard, in Amber. Such hospitality as we may offer in a time such as this, I extend to you and to your people, in the name of kinship and of the mission which brings you among us once more."

"Then I thank you most profoundly for your kindness in this dark hour...and look forward to, at a later time, hearing all about your efforts to restore my brother to this August Thron, and recover my father with him." Odin's tone indicated that he thought they had done nothing so far. Benedict checked a sigh.

"However," Odin continued, "since I have returned to Amber, and brought a number of my family with me...perhaps we can also discuss their undertaking that most solemn and sacred rites of passage here in this Empire?" He paused, and the rest of the entourage shifted nervously. Benedict coughed politely into his hand to cover a smirk, and he nodded slightly to himself. An expected request. He glanced over the group as they shifted around. They've heard about the Pattern then, Benedict thought to himself, And they're uncertain about it, or about the request. Fine. If they can walk it, let them. It'd be a trick I'd like to see right now.

"Certainly Uncle. As soon as your contingent has settled in and we have determined how to safely approach the Pattern, as well as how it may be repaired--or negotiated in its current state without significant loss of faculties," Llewella said, "such as those which led this very morning to the death of our brother Gerard, any of our cousins who wish it may swear their oaths to the Empire and make the attempt." Benedict nodded very slightly again as Llewella seemed to challenge Odin on the 'loss' count. She did that very well. Maybe she is suited to this after all, he thought.

Odin raised a brow, and there were some hushed, faintly disgruntled murmurings from his entourage. At that moment thre was an ominous rumble from somewhere below, and the walls of the castle vibrated again as they have several times this morning. A few of the decorations on the walls rattled softly; this was a bit stronger than those earlier. It wasn't natural.

"However," Llewella concluded, looking around with a touch of apprehension as the tremor subsided. "I trust you will forgive me, Uncle, if I now truncate these proceedings, in light of these unexplained disturbances."

"Quite, quite," Odin said. "You no doubt have matters of import to attend to." Everyone else around seemed quite out of it, except for Odin. "We shall, no doubt, speak of this further--for the moment, we shall retire." He look somewhat displeased as he snapped his fingers loudly in front of the redhead. That brought most of them back to attention.

"Certainly, Uncle. I look forward to it." She didn't tell them that they could leave, though her voice more than implied it. Benedict nodded to himself in approval, even as Llewella started to gaze off into nothingness. What in the world are they listening to?

Then, the one with the harp began to whisper softly in the hushed room, "And thus did Odin, Lord of Asgard, take his leave from the child-Empress, his neice, and set forth to..." Benedict turned his glare to the one with the harp, snorting softly. He wasn't impressed.

"That will be enough, Bragi," Odin said brusquely. "The rest can be written later."

That brought Llewella's attention back to the present. She almost smiled at that, but refrained. Lord Henden frowned at the breach in protocol, and almost all of them appeared less than pleased. In the gallery, there were various low murmurs from the assembled spectators. Things were very uneasy around here. The Asgardians started marching towards the door.

Beyond the doors stood almost a regiment of castle functionaries, lined up to either side. They bowed low to Odin as he emerged--Ben could see that from where he was standing--and one stepped forward to speak with him, most likely arranging suitable quarters. Everyone stayed in place unless the last of them were out. When the doors closed, another tremor began, a rather powerful one. Lord Feldane stumbled off the step even as Benedict was widening his stance and lowered his center of gravity, to prevent himself from falling. He felt a hand--probably Llewella's--grip his shoulder as Feldane cried out in pain as his bones broke. The Chancellor and Lord Karm rushed forward to help him. Bleys went as well, always the first to rush into things.

As the tremor subsided, Llewella murmured, "We need to find out what's causing this."

Benedict nodded as he watched Bleys reach Lord Feldane a few moments before the others. Feldane groaned and was very still for a few moments. "Thank you, Bleys," he wheezed. "I'm getting too damn old for this..." He sat up very slowly, face ashen. Lord Henden knelt down beside him and reached into his vest, taking out a small vial. He offered it up to Feldane, who accepted with a nod of thanks. Feldane uncapped it, and swallowed the contents. Moments later, some color started to return to his face.

Lord Gamellon tapped Thrawn on the shoulder. "That's our cue," he said. He turned to Llewella, who was now letting go of Ben's shoulder. "Your Majesty, this may be some new form of attack. If I and my colleague may have the Crown's leave to depart and investigate?"

She nodded, "You may, Lord Gamellon."

Thrawn bowed in the direction of Llewella, and started to leave with Lord Gamellon. He paused next to Feldane for a moment before passing on.

A few moments later, Feldane got back to his feet slowly, but unassisted. He stared after Thrawn with a speculative air. "Thank you gentlemen, Your Highness. Your assistance is, as always, greatly appreciated." He paused, "A most peculiar individual, is Her Majesty's new advisor..." Bleys left the Lord's side, and did a quick lap of the room, doing what was necessary and right before leaving quickly. Ben noticed that several other siblings were gone already. It usually didn't take long.

Llewella turned to him, "Benedict, whatever protocol exists for natural disasters, please implement it." She paused, thinking the same thing he was--in their memory, there had never been a natural disaster here. "Or invent one," she added. "Unicorn only knows how much worse this could get. Oh--and where'd you stash Callandra?"

Benedict shook his head, "Inventing it'll have to be then. Somehow, Dad, or the former captains, or whomever never got around to implementing one." He pauses, scratching the scruff on his chin, "Especially being as the area is tectonically stable..." He shrugged slightly, as she nodded her approval, "I'll figure something out." He paused for a moment, then sighed, "I don't know where she is...I told a chamberlain to get her some private rooms."

He paused, not wanting to bring up a subject he had been thinking about since...this morning? Had it been that long already? This day kept getting longer and longer. He decided to broach the subject, "As soon as it's possible, everyone of the family that's left is getting bodyguards." He inflected his tone to include himself as well, and his own displeasure with it...though that was a lie. He never felt uncomfortable with bodyguards--they were just soldiers. "Is there anything else you'd have me do? With the Asgardians' arrival, I'll need to reroute security and such to accomodate additional possible targets."

She blinked, "Bodyguards? I don't know if that'll do much good...but it's your prerogative. I'll put in my request right now for Cail of House Danesh."

He nodded, grimacing a bit. "If nothing else," he said, "they'll either be able to slow down the attacker so that whomever is getting attacked can use Trumps or otherwise get away...or they'll be immediately on the scene, so that there might be a possibility of tracking it...them...down."

She said next, "Go ahead and make whatever changes you need; I'll contact you as soon as anything else arises."

He gave her a half-bow and said, "As you will." He then exited, stage right to make preparations. Most of them didn't actually take too terribly long. He was right--the area was tectonically stable, and there were no safety protocols for earthquakes. Before he addressed that issue, he gave orders to a few sergeants in the guard to look for volunteers for bodyguards, and an Honor Guard for the Asgardians. It wouldn't do not giving them a contingent of guards. It'd be insulting, especially since they were related and everything. He then bent to the task with his lieutenants of making some fairly reliable and easy-to-read instructions for "What to do in an Earthquake."

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