Characteristics
| Age | 20 (Appearance 25) |
| Height | 178 CM (5’10) |
| Weight | 91 KG (200 pounds) |
| Hair | Blond with some red |
| Hair Style | Short all over, sports a goatee |
| Eyes | Light Blue |
| Body Type | Muscular |
| Birthday | November 1, 1992 (AE Equivalent) |
Titles, Honours
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Personal History
The Scullery
Born in a land shrouded in mystery, Geran was brought to the imposing Amber Castle swaddled in a thin, tattered blanket mere hours after his birth. It was there that he came into the care of Emily Tatingsham, a kind-hearted yet formidable elderly pastry cook whose sweet creations filled the castle with delightful aromas. As he grew, the kitchen became both his cradle and his classroom. While learning the rigorous discipline of scrubbing pots and mopping floors, Emily also imparted her wisdom about court life through the eyes of a servant, weaving tales of nobles and their intrigues that would shape Geran’s understanding of the world around him.
Constant whispers circulated that he was a bastard, and as such, he became an easy target for the noble children of the castle, who delighted in tormenting him with unending pranks. One particularly cruel episode found him rummaging through King Oberon’s office in a desperate attempt to retrieve a trinket that one of these children claimed to have lost. The encounter resulted in the king administering a sharp reprimand, leaving Geran feeling humiliated yet more determined. At the tender age of eight, fate took an unexpected turn when Prince Brand, unaware that he was Geran’s father, returned to court and chose him as one of his squires. Thus began Geran’s journey into the warrior’s life, marked by a host of chores involving the scrubbing of armour and boots.
Prince Brand, a figure both revered and feared, took a particular interest in Geran, teaching him the nuances of combat and the arcane arts of magic. Despite this mentorship, Brand allowed the bullying to continue, believing it would forge resilience within the boy. “Strength comes from adversity,” he was heard advising Geran, words that would haunt him even as they steeled his spirit.
In those formative years, Geran enjoyed an existence that, while humble, was significantly better than that of many orphans. He found warmth in a straw mattress nestled beside the crackling kitchen fire, feasted on the leftover delicacies from grand banquets, and learned the value of hard work before he even understood its importance. One of his cherished memories from this time involved a scrappy rat that darted in and out of the shadows beneath the kitchen fireplace. At night, he would lie awake, mesmerised by the creature’s clever navigation of hidden paths throughout the kitchen. It was through the rat’s clandestine routes that Geran stumbled upon a forgotten library, a treasure trove of dusty tomes filled with ancient knowledge. Though his reading skills were rudimentary, Emily remained blissfully unaware of his growing curiosity as he eagerly sought her guidance on an expanding array of words and concepts, igniting a flame of ambition within him that would lead to transformative adventures ahead.
Birth Right
Fiona pointed an accusatory finger at Brand, her gaze turning icy, like the sharp bite of winter’s chill. The finger slowly descended to the young page who stood beside him, clutching his ornate shield with a mixture of pride and trepidation. With a loud, exaggerated intake of breath, she scrunched her nose in disbelief, her expression twisting into one of sheer revulsion.
“Oh, what have we here?” she scoffed, her voice laced with biting sarcasm. “More of your corrupt seed spreading throughout the kingdom, Brand? That little flop there bears your unmistakable eyes.” Brand’s gaze involuntarily flickered to the boy beside him, a swell of conflicting emotions—pride tempered by apprehension—building within him.
“Who is this child, Prince Brand?” demanded King Oberon, his authoritative tone resonating in the hall with the weight of a sceptre. Drawing himself up to his full height, Brand responded, his voice steady despite the swirling tension, “He is my son, Geran Ambrois.”
“Bastard,” Fiona chuckled coldly, her sword slicing through the air like a dagger, chilling the already tense atmosphere.
“Come here, boy,” instructed King Oberon, his voice softening in contrast to Fiona’s derision, beckoning Geran with the gentleness of a father despite the palpable tension that crackled around them. Geran stood frozen, the heavy burden of his lineage pressing down on him like a lead cloak.
“Do as you are told, Geran,” Brand urged his tone a mix of authority and urgency, the need for his son to step forward evident in his eyes.
With trepidation, the boy looked up, his wide eyes shimmering with a blend of fear and the remnants of innocent curiosity. He took a step forward, his tiny hands struggling to maintain a grip on the hefty shield that seemed comically large for him. He stopped a few feet from the king, a silent statue of uncertainty in the face of such powerful figures.
Bending down, King Oberon took Geran’s chin in his firm yet gentle grip, examining the boy closely, moving his head from side to side like a skilled jeweller assessing a precious gem. “My… my…” he mused, casting a sidelong glance at Fiona, “You are right. I do see Brand in him.”
“Evil spawn,” Fiona snarled, venom dripping from her voice as her eyes flared with indignation. Brand shot her an ominous glare, silently warning her to restrain her tongue.
Ignoring her presence with resolute authority, the king continued, “How old are you, boy?”
Geran hesitated, anxiety bubbling within him as he sought the right words. “Nine, great lord,” he finally managed to whisper, his tiny voice trembling almost imperceptibly.
“No, he is older than that, Fiona,” Oberon declared decisively, his tone firm and unyielding, brooking no argument. “He will live across from Martin and shall rightfully be known as His Royal Highness. He is a Prince of Amber and shall be treated as such.” With that resolute pronouncement, he released Geran’s chin, signalling that his word was final.
Recently, Geran had found a steadfast companion in a scrappy white tiger kitten named Awyr—a spirited gift from Brand shortly after the revelation of his true lineage. The kitten, with its bright blue eyes and mischievous nature, had become a constant, comforting presence at his side, a lively source of affection and chaos. However, since the arrival of his younger brother, Darren, Awyr had taken to lavishing more of its attention on the baby, curling up beside him and purring contentedly. Yet, even amidst the shifting affections, the kitten made it a point to leave a trail of soft, golden fur on Geran’s elegant robes each evening, a whimsical testament to its loyalty. Thus, the fickle lives of cats unfurled, endlessly switching affections and weaving mischief into the fabric of their days.s wherever they roamed.
Joys of Position
With adventure in the air, Geran’s keen gaze fell upon a pair of uplifted, ample, snowy breasts that seemed to glow under the candlelight. An amused eyebrow arched as the young prince surveyed the enchanting damsel from head to toe, a secret smile tugging at his lips. With deliberate grace and a captivating determination, he set forth across the opulent floor. His eyes soon caught sight of soft strands of sandy blond hair cascading elegantly down the shoulders of a charming maiden who appeared to be barely fifteen. Though her manner was proper, a subtle shyness lingered about her, and Geran, noticing she had not yet graced the court’s familiar halls, recognised in her eyes a silent invitation to become acquainted.
As he advanced, his path brought him uncomfortably close to a sycophantic figure who fawned over a potted arrangement that Fiona had so disdainfully discarded, his demeanour cold and unyielding amid barbed, icy remarks. Unperturbed, Geran dismissed these hostile glances and acerbic comments, his thoughts adrift with memories of far more enticing, younger delights. Nearby, at the side of Fiona and her courtly lackeys, cold dishes were served on a bitter day to feet that had just been plunged into a deep, crystalline river, still clinging to the chill of winter before the thaw began. To Geran, they were nothing but objects of contempt, stirring wicked imaginings of precisely aimed knives finding their mark in the most intimate of places.
Kenneth, ever the sceptic, rolled his eyes and said, “I do not know how you do it.”
Geran’s reply was soft yet laced with mischief. “We must do what we must. There are so many flowers to be…smelled.” His eyes twinkled with a roguish charm as he looked about the room, his gaze dancing over his many conquests. A title brought privileges, and at the tender age of fifteen, he indulged in them—often.
“Like the Lady Candice,” Kenneth ventured, prompting a chuckle from Geran.
“Oh, she does delight in being admired—and perhaps even more,” Geran murmured, the memory of her seduction vivid as he recalled how, once nourished with his attention, her delicate blossom had unfurled like a rose bathed in early morning dew. “Then there’s Lady Alison. A spirited encounter, though she appeared ever so unprepared. And Baroness Elizabeth—now she was a delightful surprise.”
“Must she be all of thirty?” Kenneth interjected in astonishment.
“Yes, a touch older, yet brimming with vigour. She understands intimately the pleasures of her position.”
“Do you ever find yourself sated?” Kenneth wondered, his tone more reflective now.
“As I said, endless flowers are waiting to be savoured.” Geran’s eyes scanned the room, catching sight of a rare blossom drifting gracefully by. With a playful wink, he remarked, “And a few sturdy stems, too.”
Kenneth, with a conspiratorial air, teased, “And you have never experienced that, have you?”
Exaggerating his tone, Kenneth continued, “I never claimed perfection, my friend. I only yearn for discretion.”
“You brandish that word—discrete—as if it were a badge of honour,” Geran observed, his gaze turning once more to the lively surroundings. “And what of Lady De’Lace?”
“Quick, vivacious, and endlessly entertaining. Later that afternoon, I found her daughter reclining on the same haystack,” Geran burst out with a broad, proud grin.
Kenneth’s jaw dropped at the revelation.
“And a maid that evening, in…yes…the third-floor sitting room,” Geran added nonchalantly.
“Geran,” Kenneth chided, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Will you ever be content with but one?” Geran asked, his eyes flitting across the bustling room with a carefree smile. “Not just yet, but perhaps one day—I might choose to settle down, to build a family.”
“And a trio of mistresses and perhaps a master or two,” Kenneth mused wistfully.
The two young rogues shared a hearty laugh before stepping out into the throng of revellers. Though destiny might one day tame Geran with the love of two women, for now, the exhilarating charm of a hedonistic world was far too tempting. In their youthful mischief, boys would indeed be boys.
Life as a Royal Prince
At the tender age of nine, Prince Brand returned to the grand halls of Amber Castle, tasked with the critical mission of reporting on the nefarious movements of enemy agents infiltrating the kingdom. During this significant meeting, Geran, a young boy caught in the tides of royal intrigue, crossed paths with Princess Fiona. It was a fateful encounter, for the princess harboured a deep-seated animosity towards Geran’s lineage. Upon glancing at the boy, she brazenly declared to all present that Prince Brand had sired a “motherless bastard,” her voice dripping with scorn.
King Oberon, ever the shrewd observer, took careful note of the exchange. After a prolonged examination of Geran, a flicker of recognition ignited within his eyes, leading him to proclaim the boy a true prince of the blood and rightful citizen of Amber. In an instant, Geran’s life was transformed; he was propelled from the ranks of the scullery to the esteemed status of royalty, bestowed with lavish apartments directly across from the more established Prince Martin, alongside a retinue of dedicated servants.
This seismic shift in his status ushered in new expectations. Geran now found himself immersed in a rigorous educational regimen, where he was driven to build upon the foundational knowledge he had previously acquired. As the months passed, it became clear that he excelled beyond his peers in the disciplines of reading, writing, and mathematics. His natural aptitude for the arcane arts emerged as well, and he quickly demonstrated himself to be a prodigious young mage, accelerating ahead of his contemporaries in magical studies.
While the physical training and weaponry practice formed a staple of daily life, it became apparent that skill in combat was not Geran’s forte. Recognizing this, Prince Brand steered his son away from the martial path, designating that course for his other son, Prince Marcus, who showed greater promise in physical prowess. Brand had a different vision for Geran; he sought to cultivate his son’s magical gifts, nurturing him to become a formidable mage in service to the kingdom.
As Geran navigated the intricate daily activities of court life, he began to glean deeper insights into the complex dynamics at play. Whispers of his father’s reputation echoed around him—some within the court tolerated Prince Brand, others loathed him deeply, while only a select few held him in any regard. Over time, Geran unearthed the shadowy tales surrounding a pivotal incident known as the Pattern and its catastrophic shattering. He learned that his father had been branded a traitor, a title that unjustly stained Geran as well, as the sins of the father were said to taint the son. This knowledge marked Geran’s journey, shaping his understanding of identity and loyalty in a world rife with political perils.
Geran can often be found in his office at the Treasury on weekday mornings, diligently reviewing financial reports and strategizing improvements for the realm. When he isn’t at work, he retreats to his primary residence, the sprawling and venerable Welksham Castle. Visitors to Welksham may be taken aback to see Geran labouring in the fields, often without his shirt, working alongside the local villagers to build sturdy stone walls or to dig ditches. His hands are frequently calloused from the hard work he believes is essential for enhancing the barony’s infrastructure for the greater good of the community.
His brother, Marcus, occasionally chastises Geran for getting his hands dirty, epitomizing the differences in their upbringings. Marcus lived the life of a prince, accustomed to luxury and ease, whereas Geran spent his childhood washing pots, scrubbing floors, and handling hard chores. While some may view Geran as a simple country bumpkin, he wholeheartedly embraces a straightforward life and has little fondness for the opulence of Amber Castle, preferring the authenticity of his rural existence.
In his capacity as Lord Treasurer of Amber, Geran has launched a thorough initiative to audit every government department and external contractor providing services to the state. His investigations revealed that numerous departments were holding excessively high financial surpluses, which he promptly returned to the treasury. Through this, he is contemplating a mandate that would require all government agencies to return any unspent funds to the crown at the conclusion of each fiscal year, firmly stating, “Use it or lose it.”
Another significant yet controversial measure he is advocating for is the annual auditing of all government departments. While this initiative may not have won him many allies, it has resulted in a substantial surplus for the crown. These surplus funds have been allocated toward various improvement projects across Amber, with Geran’s commitment to prudent fiscal management leading to a sustainable budget surplus for the crown. The realignment of departmental budgets has allowed the treasury to not only lower taxes for the populace but also to simultaneously increase the funding available for essential services, marking a noteworthy achievement in his tenure.
With the weight of responsibility came an unwavering commitment. Geran made the most significant promise of his life when he married his long-time love and, at times, rival, Princess Bryndal. This union not only bound their hearts but also intertwined their fates, prompting Geran to critically reassess various aspects of his existence. It is a silent struggle, a profound inner battle that many around him may overlook or fail to comprehend. His past casts a long shadow in the kingdom of Amber; despite any efforts for redemption, there are those who cling to an indelible reputation, refusing to forget or forgive his former transgressions. Geran understands that he cannot alter the perceptions that others hold, nor can he erase the memories embedded in the hearts of his critics. Yet, he strives to navigate this complex tapestry of loyalty, love, and legacy with resilience.
Engaging with the indigenous mountain peoples has prompted deep reflection and personal introspection for Geran. Over the past few months, he has embraced a set of guiding principles that resonate profoundly with their way of life: a deep Respect for Self, an unwavering Respect for Others, a strong sense of Responsibility for all one’s actions, and the understanding that sometimes, Silence is the most powerful response. Adopting and striving to live by these values presents a significant challenge, especially when navigating the complexities of relationships with certain individuals he encounters in his work.
Stabbed and bloodied with a butter knife, Geran found a twisted amusement in the audacity of his diminutive attacker, who brazenly brandished the stained implement like a trophy. The surreal scene was almost comical, and today, he smirks even more at the memory. The once-clotted blood has vanished, meticulously erased by arcane methods, and the blade has been wiped spotless, leaving no trace of the bizarre encounter.
Marriage
By royal decree, the day of the winter solstice has been officially designated as a national holiday, a joyous occasion to commemorate the union of Princess Bryndal, the beloved daughter of Princess Fiona, and Prince Geran, the son of the esteemed nobles Brand and Dybelle. This enchanting marriage unites two hearts, as Geran has cherished Bryndal since their youth, finding in her a partner for both life and family.
Geran’s contentment is evident, though life’s complexities cast shadows on their bliss. The presence of his children from previous relationships occasionally troubles Bryndal, yet, to her credit, she has embraced each of his offspring with grace and affection, treating them as though they were her own. However, the dynamics with Alexander can be particularly challenging; their relationship struggles at times under the weight of unspoken tensions.
In a testament to their strong bond, Geran encourages Bryndal’s passions and interests, granting her the freedom to pursue her interests. This mutual support is one of the cherished secrets behind their flourishing relationship. Naturally, moments of discord arise—such is the tapestry of any marriage—but Bryndal, who may appear introverted at first glance, possesses a heart of steel when it comes to standing her ground. Her passionate spirit, a compelling quality that first captivated Geran, often brings depth and intensity to their interactions.
Together, they carve out a joyful life, marked by their cherished weekly date nights, a well-deserved escape from the bustling demands of parenting. The couple shares an ardent love for the arts, frequently attending operas, symphonies, art galleries, and theatrical performances. Their commitment to the cultural landscape is underscored by their roles as benefactors for several arts organisations, further enriching not only their own lives but also the creative community around them.
Abdication of Rights
Geran formally renounced all rights and privileges associated with his royal titles and honours, transferring them to his son, Darren, in a significant act of succession. As a result of this decision, the esteemed title of Crown Prince of Brandenburg now passes to his brother, Dalt, along with the responsibilities and legacy it entails for his lineage. This transition marks a pivotal moment in the royal lineage, redefining the paths of both Geran’s and Dalt’s families as they navigate their new roles within the kingdom’s hierarchy.
Death
In a sombre address delivered today in Port Royal, Prince Jonathan expressed profound sorrow regarding the tragic demise of Prince Geran.
“We are filled with shock and horror at the unexpected and violent death of Prince Geran of Amber, Brandenberg, and the esteemed Houses of Helgram and Hendrake. In light of this grievous event, I have tasked Prince Edward with spearheading a thorough investigation to unveil the circumstances surrounding this heinous act and to ensure that the perpetrator(s) face justice.”
The statement further conveyed condolences to those in mourning. “We stand in solidarity with King Brand of Brandenberg, brother to King Bleys, as well as Geran’s grieving mother-in-law, Princess Fiona of Helgramways and Amber, and his beloved wife, Bryndal, alongside their many children, all of whom are enduring this profound loss.”
Prince Geran is remembered fondly for his dedicated service to the Kingdom of Amber during his tenure as Treasurer. He played a pivotal role in the restoration of the historic centre of Welksham, a task undertaken after its devastation by Prince Eric and Caine during the Usurpation, as well as its subsequent neglect under King Oberon. His commitment to fiscal responsibility ensured the prosperity and integrity of the Royal Treasury, making him a cherished figure among the realm’s nobles.
To his family’s wishes, a private funeral was held, attended only by his immediate family. Following his cremation, conducted in the traditional manner of the mountain people, his ashes were scattered at an undisclosed and meaningful location.
His father, Darren, the Earl of Welksham, shared an emotional reflection, stating, “He would desire it this way. This serene farewell is a fitting conclusion to a life that was so abruptly cut short. I trust he will return in his own time, and in his next incarnation, may he recognise the child of the one who has departed. His absence will be profoundly felt.”
In remembrance of Prince Geran, the Kingdom of Amber, the Grand Duchy of Helgramways, and the Empire of the Golden Circle will observe three days of mourning. We invite everyone to join in uniting our hearts and thoughts with the Royal Family of Amber during this time of shared sorrow.
Phoenix Rising
A powerful force of death grips me, pulling and twisting me away from the alluring warmth of the red glow that surrounds me. Magic pulses in the air, weaving itself into an intricate dance of ritual and power around a form that does not exist. I become aware of something solid, a ghostly presence guiding me toward an unyielding substance. I am being thrust into it, a sensation that feels oddly familiar yet profoundly strange. I can sense fingers, toes, and other distinct parts of an undeniably real body.
With a sudden jolt, my eyes flicker open. They are undoubtedly my eyes, yet everything feels disjointed. The cold, sharp edge of a knife lingers in my memory, accompanied by visions of blood cascading like a crimson waterfall. Someone peers into my gaze, but I am not fully present, teetering on the edge of consciousness. This body feels alien, a strange vessel even though I perceive some thread of familiarity coursing through it. The cells pulsate with a sterile coldness, devoid of the warmth I once knew. I draw a weak, painful breath – a reminder that I am alive, but an ominous feeling throbs in my chest, whispering that something is terribly wrong.
An invisible force beckons me, resonating with an intensity that permeates my ethereal essence. I have no sense of how long I’ve been caught in this liminal space; time, in its usual measure, holds no meaning here. I feel it – this compulsion – not merely as an external call but as an intrinsic aspect of my being, simultaneously intertwined with me yet distinctly separate. There is a pulsating energy radiating from within, centred around what I can only identify as the area of my pelvis, a faint echo of the corporeal form I once inhabited.
As this sensation grows stronger, an enveloping crimson light begins to manifest, swirling around me like a tempest of fervent emotion. With it comes a haunting realization; I am aware of a curious dichotomy – this space feels both familiar and foreign, akin to a home that has been marred by an unsettling presence. Something or someone has intruded upon this sanctum, a place that is intrinsically mine yet slipping through my fingers, as I grapple with my lack of control over it.
The redness now pulses intensely, a cry for assistance that resonates deep within my core. It has transformed into a prisoner, ensnared by an overwhelming darkness that threatens to consume it entirely. I yearn to respond, to break the chains binding this vibrant essence to despair, but I remain suspended, caught between the desire to act and the constraints of my ethereal existence.
A powerful force grips me, pulling and twisting me away from the alluring warmth of the red glow that surrounds me. Magic pulses in the air, weaving itself into an intricate dance of ritual and power around a form that does not exist. I become aware of something solid, a ghostly presence guiding me toward an unyielding substance. I am being thrust into it, a sensation that feels oddly familiar yet profoundly strange. I can sense fingers, toes, and other distinct parts of an undeniably real body.
With a sudden jolt, my eyes flicker open. They are undoubtedly my eyes, yet everything feels disjointed. The cold, sharp edge of a knife lingers in my memory, accompanied by visions of blood cascading like a crimson waterfall. Someone peers into my gaze, but I am not fully present, teetering on the edge of consciousness. This body feels alien, a strange vessel even though I perceive some thread of familiarity coursing through it. The cells pulsate with a sterile coldness, devoid of the warmth I once knew. I draw a weak, painful breath – a reminder that I am alive, but an ominous feeling throbs in my chest, whispering that something is terribly wrong.
Time flows relentlessly around me, a river of moments drifting in the gentle rise and fall of the sun. Yet, in this perpetual motion, my body feels foreign, a mere shell that fails to align with my restless soul. It feels as though the very cells of my being swell and pulse, yearning to unify the two, while I exist in a state of profound agony on multiple levels.
I catch a glimpse of my wife, her radiant smile piercing through the fog of my discomfort. She envelops my body in warmth and affection, showering me with tender kisses. But I can see the worry etched upon her face as she speaks softly to someone unseen, her voice laced with concern—a language only she understands. In this moment, I am adrift; strength eludes me as I struggle against the tide.
The cyclical dance of night unfolds with an agonizing slowness. I manage to stand and take faltering steps, supported by the aid of canes, though my soul remains restless, yearning for freedom. My gaze drifts to my father, whose eyes reflect a blend of relief and worry. I know he comprehends the weight of my suffering; he himself bore the burden of despair after his fall into the Abyss.
Then, a wave of joy washes over me as my triplets arrive, their laughter like sunlight breaking through dark clouds. They are a fierce force, vowing vengeance upon the man who has caused this turmoil. I know his face, familiar yet distant, his name slipping from my grasp like sand through fingers. I have traversed the realm he has seized from me, held captive under his iron grip, yet I know that the essence of that realm—a vibrant red—does not belong to him. The struggle between us is palpable.
Despite my frailty, my wife permits me to venture forth, guarded by the formidable presence of hellmaidens, who flank me on all sides. There are unfinished matters, duties that call me back to the realm of the living. I make my way through the shadowed corridors, each step a reminder of my childhood, when I roamed through the maze of secret passages that few remember.
At last, I arrive at the king’s sumptuous apartments, a familiar territory filled with both expectation and trepidation. King Bleys greets me with an expression of surprise, layered with a cautious optimism. He desires my recovery, eager for the day when I can resume my role beside him.
With deliberate intent, I announce my presence to those gathered—a brother, a friend, and a stranger united by a common quest. Together, we embark on a journey in search of something profound, a discovery that will meld the fractured pieces of my existence into a cohesive whole. We seek the Fount of Souls, a mystical wellspring capable of healing all wounds, erasing karma, and banishing discontentment from my weary heart.ment.
Family
Geran is the head of a large and diverse family comprising several children, not all of whom share the same mother. His devoted wife, Princess Bryndal, the daughter of the noble Fiona, resides with him in the imposing Welksham Castle, which boasts an array of grand halls and lush gardens, serving as the heart of their family life. The castle is not only a residence but a symbol of their status within the kingdom.
In addition to Princess Bryndal, Geran maintains a relationship with his mistress, Dsara, who lives near the bustling city of Myr Elrose. Though the dynamics between the two women in Geran’s life are complex, they possess a mutual understanding of their respective roles. Princess Bryndal holds the position of both wife and duchess, embracing her responsibilities as the mother of an earl with grace. In contrast, Dsara occupies the role of a concubine, navigating the challenges and limitations that come with it.
Over the years, there have been several encounters between Bryndal and Dsara, often marked by tension as they negotiate their shared connection to Geran. While Dsara recognises her place and occasionally stirs trouble, she is entitled to visit her son, ensuring that her relationship with Geran remains intact, albeit complicated.
Geran, having embarked on numerous adventures, continues to discover more of his illegitimate children, which adds layers to his already intricate family tree. Thus far, he has acknowledged each of these children, granting them the rights and privileges afforded to members of the royal families of Brandenberg and Amber. Geran provides his newly discovered offspring with the option to live alongside him in Welksham or to maintain their current lives if they so choose. Regardless of their decision, he ensures they have a reliable means of contacting him and offers them financial support, reflecting his commitment to their well-being and connection to their royal heritage.
A matter oF lives once Lived
Fate has it we all have lives once lived that manipulate the present. Some of the lives include:
Satan
Gateaux – Third son of Dworkin
Oberon JR (Obie) – son of Bleys
Dalai Lama – Ancient Earth
Xiuhtecuhtli – Aztec Fire God – Ancient Earth
Constantius – Last King of the Abyss Kingdom – Pre-Empire
Talkus – Valar of Middle Earth and the Undying Lands
Aten – Egyptian monotheist god – Ancient Earth
A Matter of Religion
The Unicorn
Raised in the unwavering faith of the Church of the Unicorn, Geran is a devout parishioner who regularly attends mass, attending not only to the rituals but also to the deeper meanings behind them. Each evening, before surrendering to sleep, he sets aside time for reflection and contemplation of Holy Scripture, which he approaches with both reverence and curiosity.
Before the arrival of the Princes in Amber, whispers circulated that Geran was seriously contemplating a religious vocation, even considering the path to the seminary. His dedication is evident in his efforts to foster his faith within the community: he commissioned the construction of an awe-inspiring cathedral in Welksham, a project designed not merely to celebrate his devotion but to serve as a beacon of hope and faith for others. His lobbying efforts were instrumental in the establishment of a Bishop of Welksham, creating a formal ecclesiastical presence under the guidance of the Prelate of the Holy Church of the Unicorn.
Geran’s unwavering belief in the Unicorn sustains him, but he is widely respected for his open-heartedness and empathy towards other religious communities. He has often been quoted as saying, “All religions are grounded in a measure of truth, and in Amber, all truth derives from the Unicorn. Some paths have yet to uncover the full truth and should be nurtured with kindness rather than the harshness of scripture.”
To facilitate harmony between the Church of the Unicorn and other faiths, Geran has chosen a gentle and inclusive approach. He regularly meets with the leader of the Folk practitioners and the Deacon, who has now been elevated to Bishop of Welksham, fostering dialogue and understanding to ensure fruitful relations between the two groups. Geran continues to fulfil his spiritual duties with his family by his side, attending services at the Church of the Unicorn and embodying the principles of faith, compassion, and community that he holds dear.
Folk Faith
In the majestic mountains overlooking the quaint village of Welkhsam resides a distinct people whose lineage can be traced back to the era long before Dworkin etched the pattern of Amber. Their religion, deeply interconnected with the natural world, holds a unique significance within the region, known to both Dworkin and Oberon. Approximately 600 years ago, an earnest yet tragic attempt was made to convert these mountain folk to the Church of the Unicorn. This endeavour ended in catastrophic loss of life, compelling the resilient Folk to retreat further into the depths of the mountains, where they have preserved their beliefs and way of life.
At the core of the Folk Faith lies a profound reverence for nature, emphasizing harmony, tranquillity, and the cultivation of peace within the heart and soul through meditation. This selfless religion mandates that its monks renounce personal ownership of property or possessions, save for sacred artefacts and the most basic necessities of life. Even these essential items are regarded as communal rather than individual. Monks within this tradition are encouraged to beg for sustenance, accepting only what is freely offered to them by others. Many dedicate their time to performing humble tasks in exchange for food and other goods, embodying the principle of service to the community.
Hours are devoted daily to prayer and chanting, creating a spiritual atmosphere of resonance within the mountain sanctuaries. The temple, situated on the gentle slopes above Welkhsam village, serves as a sacred space devoid of conventional altars; instead, it is centred around an ancient, venerable tree, which symbolizes the intertwined existence of the Folk with the natural world.
Among the revered figures of this community is Geran, who has been declared the reincarnation of a long-deceased holy man revered by the mountain people. He has embraced the tenets of the Folk Faith with profound devotion and has been ordained as the Pynchan Dymas, or High Lama. Geran’s commitment to the faith and his role as a monk exemplify the principles of selflessness and community service that are the hallmarks of this timeless tradition.
THE TEARS – In the vast expanse of the sky, the ever-flowing clouds weave a delicate tapestry that blesses the towering mountain peaks with their life-giving essence. High-altitude winds, crisp and invigorating, carry the divine breath of the gods, transforming it into an ethereal blanket of white snow that gently settles upon the slopes. As the relentless sun bathes the world below in its warmth, it lovingly warms the snow, causing it to melt into life-giving streams that trickle down the mountainsides. This liquid essence—the very embodiment of purity and vitality—nurtures the earth, awakening all forms of life to its enlightened state.
THE BLESSING – Within the interplay of nature resides both Kindness and Wrath, perpetually balancing each other. These shifting moods manifest as the Blessing of the Tears, an elusive force that serves as the catalyst for the essence of creation and the intricate Cycle of Enlightenment. It is a dance of contrasts, where moments of serenity give way to storms of fury, and in their wake, profound transformations occur.
THE FRUIT OF THE LAND – This Blessing intertwines with the land, enabling it to flourish in a magnificent display of abundance. Towering mountain forests, their canopies a vibrant green, and rolling plains dotted with wildflowers all exist in harmonious resonance with the crystalline rivers, serene lakes, and majestic oceans. Ethereal mists, laden with the essence of the heavens, drift and coat the landscape, uniting earth and sky in a sacred communion. Each Tear that falls from above is a celestial touch, bestowing growth and vitality upon the living creatures of the earth. In this bountiful domain, all forms of life—animals, plants, fish, birds, reptiles, and amphibians—coexist in equilibrium, diligently maintaining the eternal Cycle of Life.
THE CYCLE OF LIFE – Life flows in a profound cycle—beginning with birth, celebrated by the joys of existence, and inevitably leading to the transmutation of death. Each existence seamlessly leads into the next, embodying the truth that all life is renewed in its own time. The souls inhabiting these myriad forms linger in a state of contemplation between lives, pondering their next incarnation before being reborn anew. Yet, it is during their corporeal journey that true enlightenment occurs, as all living beings resonate with the intertwining auras of existence. Sacrifices are made willingly by some, a testament to the interconnectedness of life; the humble may rise in their next life, while the elevated may find themselves grounded anew. The stations of life are fluid and ever-changing, a reminder of the dynamic nature of existence. Such is the essence of the cycle.
CYCLE OF ENLIGHTENMENT – All living things follow The Cycle of Life providing the nourishment of the Cycle of Enlightenment. Living things high and low comprehend the cycle and know what it means. Each incarnation renews the cycle bringing greater enlightenment. Life is simple and the land, water and air provide the sustenance for all life. All lives endeavor to find enlightenment.
THE CYCLE OF LIFE – Life flows in a profound cycle—beginning with birth, celebrated by the joys of existence, and inevitably leading to the transmutation of death. Each existence seamlessly leads into the next, embodying the truth that all life is renewed in its own time. The souls inhabiting these myriad forms linger in a state of contemplation between lives, pondering their next incarnation before being reborn anew. Yet, it is during their corporeal journey that true enlightenment occurs, as all living beings resonate with the intertwining auras of existence. Sacrifices are made willingly by some, a testament to the interconnectedness of life; the humble may rise in their next life, while the elevated may find themselves grounded anew. The stations of life are fluid and ever-changing, a reminder of the dynamic nature of existence. Such is the essence of the cycle.
THE WELL OF SOULS – Within the profound depths of existence lies the Well of Souls, a metaphysical reservoir that embodies the Light of Truth inherent in all living beings. Each action—whether it resonates with the vibrancy of light or sinks into the shadows of darkness—contributes to this eternal well. Each deed both enriches and depletes it simultaneously, reflecting the intricate balance of the universe. The well’s nature is neither to be half empty nor half full; it is a ceaseless cycle, ebbing and flowing as the tapestry of life weaves its intricate patterns.
THE TWELVE REFLECTIONS – Towering majestically, Kyo Yuhi emerges from the enchanting forests of Ishigara, bathed in an aura of grandeur and presence. This ancient snowcapped mountain, perpetually cloaked in wispy clouds, serves as the sacred heart of the mystical realm of Shambhala. From its majestic slopes, the land unfurls, giving birth to an island that cradles the very essence of creation. The crystalline Tears of the mountain cascade gracefully down rugged cliffs and weave their way through the lush canopy, ultimately mingling with the vast, boundless sea. This sacred water is the lifeblood that sustains a delicate and harmonious ecosystem, where tall, emerald trees sway gently in the embrace of a soft breeze. Life—graceful and vigorous—thrives in abundance, both great and small, as vibrant flora and fauna dance in a rich mosaic of existence. The climate varies, with temperate warmth enveloping the equatorial regions while the peaks and polar areas are kissed by crisp, cold air. This thriving ecosystem plays an essential role in facilitating the Cycle of Enlightenment, where the interconnectedness of all beings fosters a continuous journey toward higher consciousness and balance.
At the southern base of the great mountains sits the Shjaelin plateau. Here the turbulent waters spilling from the heights come to settle into the placid Lake Airalaas. Three long bridges cross over the lake where the shimmering tree of Llewaaran grows. Growing on the highest island peak, the tree is surrounded by the falls of Shjakadai. Across the kilometers of open water the untamed nature at the essence of Shambhala folded up like the inside of chrome ball reflecting back upon itself.
The expansive, gnarled arms of the tree stretch upward, curling gracefully into the polished chrome surface above, reflecting the scene onto itself in a mesmerising symmetry. Nestled among the robust limbs of this magnificent tree are glowing orbs of incandescent light, each emanating a vibrant hue. Together, these twelve colours dance and intertwine, representing The Twelve Vital Reflections of our inner nature:
Reflection on the Right View – The Right view serves as both the inception and culmination of the spiritual journey. It emphasises the importance of perceiving and comprehending the essence of reality without distortion—seeing things as they indeed are, beyond our biases and illusions.
Reflection for the Right Intention – While the right view is rooted in cognitive understanding, the right intention embodies the volitional aspect of our thoughts and desires. It encourages us to cultivate motives of goodwill, compassion, and benevolence, ensuring that our intentions align harmoniously with ethical living.
Reflection on Right Speech – Serving as the first pillar of ethical conduct, right speech involves articulating the truth in a kind and honest manner. It promotes the practice of using our words to uplift rather than harm, fostering communication that is both honest and constructive.
Reflection on Right Action – As the second principle of ethical behaviour, right action emphasises the importance of our actions and the physical expressions of our intentions. It encompasses actions that do not inflict harm on others, advocating for behaviours that contribute positively to the welfare of all living beings.
Reflection on Right Livelihood – Right livelihood calls for individuals to pursue a means of earning a living that is both ethical and just. It advocates for engaging in work that does not cause suffering, ensuring that the wealth one accumulates is gained through honest, peaceful means.
Reflection on Right Effort – Right effort emphasises the importance of intentional action and perseverance in achieving personal growth. It underscores that without diligent effort, progress remains elusive; however, misplaced or misguided effort leads to distractions and mental confusion, inhibiting our path toward clarity.
Reflection for Right Mindfulness – Right mindfulness is the cultivated ability to maintain a clear and focused awareness of the present moment. It is the mental discipline that allows us to observe our thoughts, feelings, and the surrounding world without judgment, fostering a deep and abiding clarity of consciousness.
Reflection on Right Concentration – This reflection focuses on cultivating mental focus and developing concentration skills. It encourages the nurturing of a mental force that enhances our ability to enter deeper states of meditation and awareness, fostering tranquillity and insight.
Reflection for Life – A profound commitment to respecting all forms of life underpins this reflection. It emphasises the ethical imperative to abstain from causing harm to sentient beings, mainly through the intentional taking of life or inflicting suffering.
Reflection for the Body – This reflection implores us to recognise the significance of bodily well-being, urging the avoidance of practices such as gluttony, overindulgence, and laziness. It advocates for a balanced approach to health and physicality.
Reflection of the Spirit – Here, the focus is on the ethical obligations of one’s inner spirit. It calls for the avoidance of conduct that may lead to spiritual degradation, promoting instead a life of integrity and spiritual growth.
Reflection of the Ego – This reflection highlights the importance of maintaining emotional balance and cultivating inner peace. It encourages the cultivation of calmness and mindfulness, thereby ensuring that our ego does not dominate but rather coexists harmoniously with a tranquil heart and mind.
In this rich tapestry of reflections, we gain invaluable insights into our inner nature, guiding us towards a path of enlightenment and proper understanding.