Normally, I would begin a journal entry with a date. However, with
the events of the past few days, I'm not sure of much of anything,
What began as a simple reconnaissance of the western shore quickly
turned into something infinitely more complicated and annoying.
"Go to the sea," the King said. "Stop the invasion of the Feyans," he
said. So I, my king's obedient servant, rode west. For what?
COWS! GREAT, BLOODY COWS!
King Malcolm, in his power-mad wisdom, sent his finest warrior to go
tromping after cows! Still, in my wildest dreams I couldn't imagine what
would happen next.
I was greeted roughly, and perhaps wrongly, by cowardly bandits from
somewhere called Middlecourt.
At this point I had resigned myself to the fact that I was finally
dead. (Damned Cows!) Yet, if I am to believe what I've been told over
the last few days, apparently my life up to that point has been something
of a lie.
For now, the truth appears to be somewhat malleable. Really no
surprise for such a "royal" setting such as the Court of Amber.
Until I'm sure just how the universe works, I'll be content to watch
and learn all I can about Amber. Apparently, I'm rather lucky, but I fear
I'm closer to the throne than I'd like.
Thanks to my "cousin" Ariana, I've found that my father is Eric, the
Regent of Crown Prince Nicholas, who came to the throne due to the death
of Ahab. I can't help but wonder where I fit in the "royal" scheme of
things, or if I want to.
I am a man of action, but since leaving Caledon, I've seen nothing but
sloth, decadence, and all the ills that seem to go with the royal clans.
This will not happen to me.
From what I can tell, Amber has powerful enemies, and may or may not
be able to defend itself. I've been told that the defense of the realm
falls to "Uncle" Benedict, and I look forward to meeting him.
For the moment, I'm off to Caledon to settle accounts with my king. I
fear that life in Amber will keep me from my home. I miss the great
plains, the forests, and the rugged beauty of the Highlands.
What of my comrades, my soldiers? How can I accept that the life I
knew and the land where I was born are little more than the fanciful
dreams of a bored aristocrat? A mere Shadow of the "real" world of Amber.
Apparently, even the universe is built on the Arrogance of Amber.
I hate arrogance.
Next stop, Caledon. Lord bless her.
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All text on this page is © 1996 by Eric Braun.
Last modified on January 13, 1999 by Kris Fazzari.