Benedict was standing in the guard's barracks when he got a Trump call. He answered tersely, "Yes?"

"Benedict." It was Llewella, looking worn and haggard, yet still very calm. Her responsibilities were wearing on her, but she was shouldering them well. Ben would have almost been proud if he wasn't irritated at her at the moment. "I'd like to speak with you, here or there, whichever you prefer."

He frowned and interjected, "We've got a problem, Ruler. The staff--guards and all--are gone." He glances around the empty barracks, "Least as far as I can tell...I've searched the kitchens and the guard's barracks, and they're just gone."

"Gone?" She seemed to wilt slightly. "Damn. When was the last you saw of any of them?"

"Before the luncheon."

She sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I'd offer a suggestion, but none come readily to mind...damn." Then she blinked. "Wait. The...the one we spoke to when I first returned from my...initiation. I was talking to him just now. Wish I'd known about this before hand, I would have asked him if he knows..."

"If you spoke to him, and he mentioned nothing about this fairly obvious happening...then, it must have happened during talking to the family, or very shortly thereafter." He paused for a moment, "It's...odd he wouldn't have noticed. But then, I don't know if he'd just arrived back to Amber either." He shrugged his shoulders, and sighed, feeling very frustrated.

"No, wait." He frowned, waiting while she reviewed something mentally. "No, I think I do know where they are...well, not where exactly...but I just put some things together that I should have before. Drat. I hate this game of innuendoes. I think they're all right, but I don't know how long it'll be before they reappear."

"Reappear?" he asked, feeling his temper starting to rise again.

She shrugged. "Return. Whatever." She shook her head. "When they do, don't say anything to them about what has happened since Slade arrived. For them, all will seem as though it had been normal. Best to leave it that way."

"This is Slade's doing then?" He scowled slightly, wishing he could wrap his hands around Slade's scrawny neck and just squeeze...

"Not entirely. Though he was involved. You may be pleased to know that he hasn't done anything to them directly."

He hrumphfed, That's amazing. What was it about Slade that bothered him so? The fact that he and Eric got along like two peas in a pod, in a matter of speaking? Just Slade's attitude? The fact that suddenly Slade was an accepted part of the family, while Ben felt alienated?

"At any rate, the reason I called...I'd really rather talk to you in person than over a Trump."

He cocked his head a bit, then held his hand out to pull her through the connection.

She accepted it, and stepped through.

Llewella looked him up and down, a thoughtful frown on her face. The look made him feel uncomfortable...it reminded him of the looks his stepmothers would sometimes get when regarding him. "I've been hearing rumors," she said carefully, "that lead me to believe you're in worse shapoe than you let on when I spoke to you before. Am I wrong?"

He frowned himself, "What rumors? From whom?" His temper was definitely on the rise. What? They think I can't take care of myself anymore?

"Bleys mentioned you were trying to hide a limp, for one. Now I've answered your question, are you going to answer mine?"

He scowled a bit, but said, "I went --basically-- toe to toe with Gerard. Did you think I was going to come away unscathed? Not to mention the fight afterwards... Of course I've injuries. But they're not impeding my ability to carry out your orders. If they were, I'd step down."

Her eyes narrowed. "Of course not. I did think you'd have sense enough to have something done about them, rather than carrying on with the kind of macho crap the others are so famous for. But forget that." She waved the whole matter away. "That wasn't my major concern. I want to know what the hell you thought you were doing at lunch."

Ah, here it comes, he thought to himself, She didn't understand why I needed to leave. He sighed, looking somewhat irritated and somewhat resigned. "I was going to lose my temper. If you had wanted me to stay around and damage what you were trying to do, I'll remember to do that next time....rather than leave before I did irreparable damage."

"If your temper is lost so easily, perhaps you'd be better suited to a less stressful occupation."

The insult hit home and he stiffened noticeably, straightening up. "Then remove me from office," he said coldly, "so I can laze about like our other siblings."

She arched her eyebrows. "I could," she remarked, "but as it happens, I have something else in mind for you to do...if you think you can handle it..."

"And that would be?" he said, still pretty irked.

"After due consideration, I've declined Bleys's offer to act as emissary to the Asgardians. I had in mind to offer you the job, instead."

He frowned, looking a touch confused. Why me? She wants to get rid of me? Angry they might be at each other, this was something that felt like...a wedge, that'd most likely come between them for a long, long time. But then, he really couldn't blame anyone but himself, much as it rankled him to admit it. "Why?"

"In large part, because you're the only one of us who has anything approaching common ground with any of them."

He nodded, slowly. That made sense. Maybe he was just overreacting.

"And because, having spoken with Odin, I have a feeling you would kno wbetter how to talk to him than I would. He is very much the warrior, something I've had very little occasion to deal with. And as for why I turned down Bleys...I have other things in mind for him, as well."

He frowned more deeply, and bowed his head, thinking hard about what she had said. It was a tempting offer, it really was. Benedict's full brother, Finndo, was there with Odin. It was a chance he had wanted since he was young, a chance to get to know at least one of his full brothers. But it still held the feeling that she was shutting him out, maybe that she didn't trust him. Once again, he could blame no one other than himself, but it still stung. What he had told Random outside just moments ago was true. After a few moments of silence, he looked up and studied Llew. "I don't think that would be such a good idea. I'll go if you want me too, but I can't guarantee anything."

"I don;t ask for guarantees, Benedict. Especially since I can;t offer any of my own. Hell...I'm not ever certain he'll agree to an exchange. But my gut tells me you're the one I weant for this task."

He took a big, deep breath, and let it out slowly, and a touch shakily. "I..." he stopped, and closed his eyes, reopening them after he's centered himself again. "No, Llewella, my...well, our eldest brother is working with them. My full brother. I can't guarantee..." He stopped again and finishes up, rather lamely, "It's complicated." It was complicated. Finndo had been his hero since he was very young, especially since Finnod took Osric's punishment with him, and was free of any crime. Such loyalty was something he rarely found, whether here at home or in Shadow. He knew, already, that he'd be tempted to switch sides, and side with Odin and his ilk, simply because Finndo was there...and Odin must have done something to deserve Finndo's loyalty.

She looked up at him, solemnly. "You're certain? Don't think i hadn't thought of that angle."

He shrugged after a long silence, "It's all redundant if Odin doesn't agree to an exchange anyway. Find out for sure, then ask me again. I won't say I will until it's certain an emissary will be well received."

"Very well." She seemed a little sad. "Until a final decision is made, we'll maintain the status quo, then. But please, do have something done about those inuries. To hell with performing your duties, I hate to think of you walking around in pain all day long."

Ben shrugged off her worry, "I've had worse. This is nothing, believe me." Belatedly he thought about his arm, and shifted his feet. Well, it wasn't bothering him, so why should it impede his duties?

She looked mildly skeptical, but decided to let it rest. "Well. There was one other matter I need to mention before I let you get on with your day. Eric's guards. Once they're back, I mean. What are their standing orders?"

Ben shrugged slightly, pondering, "I hadn't gotten around to giving exact orders, Ruler. Our staff disappeared before I could, as I didn't know Eric was returning today." He paused, "Anything you'd like, specifically?"

"I want him not merely kept from harm, but his whereabouts tracked. SO long as he's in Amber, someone should always know where he is--apart from those two."

"The problem, however," he said sardonically, "is if Slade has taken Eric under his wing, like our uncle appears to have done, it will be hard enough...if they wish to be gone, they'll be gone."

"Somehow, I doubt Eric will be that difficult to keep track of...if Slade whisks him away, well, I guess there's nothing to be done about that. But Eric, left to his own devices?"

"He managed to escape from the cells below, which should have been impossible."

"Just do your best to keep tabs on him, that's all I ask."

He nodded. After a moment, Ben asked, "Anything else?"

She sighed. "No, not for now. Forgive me, Benedict. I didn't mean to be so harsh...I'm just...well...it's been a difficult day." She shook her head, and turned to go.

He nodded and shrugged slightly. After a moment's pause, he said, "I think you're being much too soft...rulers are supposed to be harsh. Especially in times of crisis, like this."

She looked back at him. "Are they? Or is that just the easiest way for them to be?"

He shrugged, "I'm speaking from a military point of view here. Leaders are harsh, are rough on their troops, not unnecessarily so, but...it serves to show who's in charge." He paused, "Getting your subjects to follow you willingly is a hard thing to do, but it's always seems to come down to have a strong leader. If you let your subjects--or family in this case--walk all over you..." And here he's thought of Corwin, "..it's nigh-impossible to reestablish who's in charge."

She chuckled. "In that case, once the staff is back, make it your number one priority to track down Corwin and haull his sorry ass back here. Whether he wants to come or not."

He nodded, "I'll try." He hesistated for a moment, "If he fights back with lethal force, eh..." He shrugged, "He shouldn't, but if, it'll be hard enough without getting people killed in the process. I'll take care of it personally, if possible."

"Good. I'll expect your report immediately upon his return. Carry on." With that, she was gone. Benedict let out a long sigh, and stood there for a moment going over the words they had shared. He didn't know if Llewella was up to this job or not. At first, she had seemed an ideal choice, what with her training in Rebma to take the throne there, but now... She seemed uncertain--granted, easily understood--but more often than not she let that show to her subjects, her siblings. All of us can smell weakness a mile away, he thought bitterly, leaving the barracks, One might get the bright idea that they're better suited. Or unicorn forbid what the Council will think. He couldn't seem to get the point across adequately to her that it didn't matter if she felt confident, but she had to act confident. He pondered this, and a thousand other things as he walked briskly around the dead-seeming castle. He couldn't hear or see anyone. Finally, he gave up the search and went to the kitchens, choosing out fruit, bread, and cheese for a suitable dinner. He climbed the stairs to his new room, and made things in order for his next action.

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