Dor01 - Dark Star

"You're absolutely right", replies Dorian, "but I've also matured during my wanderings. It's probably time for me to share family concerns. I mean, you've always been there for Mother and I. Eaglesign is my home port, perhaps more than any other place, and i want you to know that you can count on your grandson to back you up." says Dorian, looking Lord Chantris straight in the eyes."Even for those boring military things" Dorian laugh.

Dorian turns and points to a corner of the room, near the imposing black marble fireplace. "Don't worry, i won't bother you. I just thought i'd sit in that comfy chair back there and listen to you two talk. To learn. And spend some time in your company". Having said that, he takes out a pencil and some paper and carelessly puts it on the chair in the corner.

" If procol dictates. I suppose I should at least make a curtsy to the King and Queen? Although if it can wait, I'd prefer to reunite with Mother first".

Dorian then wait for the guest(s).

« I didn’t know I was so popular!»

Dorian gets out of the chair and calmly approaches with a smile.

« Nice to meet you, Coy from Begma,» he says, reaching out his bare hand to the man. Dorian had plenty of time to concentrate hismelf on this moment, and while doing the few steps to reach the plenipotentiary, he opens his mind to the environnment, searching intuitively for any potential threats.

He then warmly grasps the man’s hand, planting his gaze into his own, and tries to establish a contact.

Dorian intends to read the superficial thoughts of the man and gather personal informations, the way he knows his aunt Fiona would do. But he also knows that this Coy is likely sensitive enough to feel the rude intrusion. So, Dorian only prepares to it, if his first impression is negative enough.

"No biggie". Dorian relaxes when he hears Coy's friendly tone, and continues with an amused smile: "Unlike my aunts and uncles, I've never been on anyone's list, and yours seems perfect for an opening. And far less disturbing."

"You"re welcome" says Dorian as he goes back to his seat, to let Lord Chantris talk to Coy.

While he is expecting a delegation from Deiga and more guests, Dorian begins a sketch of the scene, to immortalize the moment.

"Exactly, a friendly man with a peculiar accent. Friendly, and simple i would say. Very refreshing, especially in Amber. I should take a trip to Begma sometime." Dorian gets up and stretches.

"Well, the time doesn't seem too late. After all, i was thinking going to the Palace today. Would you care to join me? You're probably tired from the meeting, but getting some fresh air is good for you, too."

 Dorian opens the door, then stops. "Unless, of course, you have other obligations".

The powerful detonation makes the windows of the room vibrate. Dorian flinched for a moment when it rang, his hand tetanized on the doorknob. But his mind regains the upper hand almost instantly, and coldly analyzes the information at its disposal, scanning the field of possibilities. The sound of a cannon announcing an attack from the sea? Powder doesn't work in Amber as far as he knows. The explosion of an overheated steam engine? Dorian hasn't seen any of them on his few visits to Amber, no boat, no train. An explosion in Castle Amber, like the one that happened before?

« The Palace! » shouts Dorian, crossing the doorway and going down the stairs four at a time to the street. He turns his head right and left, looking for the sign of a rush in the City, a plume of smoke on the harbour or elsewhere. Then he quickly heads for the Castle, to have a clear view of it, certain in his heart of hearts that the source of the evils of Amber still resides in his family. At the top of the stairs, he glances back to see if Lord Chantris or Rolf had followed in his footsteps. Dorian looks for a sign of unrest, or a catastrophe in the castle, grasping his deck of Trumps mechanically without taking his eyes off the building.

Dorian gives an affirmative sign to Lord Chantris, but both are already absorbed in their respective tasks. He hurries towards the purple smoke, thinking he can help possible victims. And also see damage or signs of an attack.
"Speaking of an attack, who's in charge of the defences now?" thinks Dorian as he runs. "Benedict or Gerard probably."

Approaching the Castle, he takes a short break and goes through his cards. Arriving at Gerard's image, he stops, expires noisily, worried, then takes out Benedict's one.
He touches the Trump and concentrates on the feeling of cold trying to make contact with the one he feels is most competent to repel an assault. Or at least know something. "Come on, pickup".