Post by The Mouth on Jul 19, 2014 17:17:39 GMT -8
27th, March 2014
20 Miles outside of Limerick
I’m at the green on the hillside. The girls are with me, Strong and Brittle Hannah, Cunning and Traumatized Rabbit, Sad and Wounded Jory. We wait for the mothers to arrive.
After twenty minutes a caravan of campers comes winding up the road to the fairground. They park in a semi-circle around us, like the yank westerns with the wagons against the Indians.
The mothers come out of one of the campers; this is no bit of mind fuckery that they’ve done to make this meeting better. They are hugely pregnant, their husbands come out behind them, filled with hostility, hate, and more importantly, fear. I can taste the fear on them now, it seems.
“Father, as agreed, you’ve brought our daughters back to us.” They are as I remember them, silver blonde, black as night, and red as blood.
“Not quite my daughters.”
Everything goes still.
“These three are my grandchildren. They fought with me, bled with me, and almost died with me and for me. I owe them a debt, daughters. They asked me to bring them here. And they asked me to take them away when we are done.”
The Mothers look pissed. “You would take our children, despite your oaths?” Airgdif demands.
“No. I am fulfilling my oath. Girls?”
Hannah faces her mother. “You asked to have a night of joy, my first night of love, turned to a cheap and horrible thing because you were upset that he wore a condom. That is not a thing a mother should do. Nor should a father.”
Airgdif and her husband look like they’ve been shot, they both inhale sharply and turn pale.
Rabbit steps forward, “And you shouldn’t ask a daughter to do these things, to change memories and minds for the good of the family. Just because you have the power does not mean you should use it. This is not a thing a mother should ask of her daughter, nor a father.”
Beanna has tears welling up in her eyes, and her husband clutches her hand.
Jory steps forward, and Caipin is already swaying. “I was raped, mother. And when I became with child you took the child away because the Old Magic didn’t show in him. I have a son I’ll never know, and left me with nothing by hurt and shame. And when I killed the man that did this… That hurt me, you shunned me. Made me ashamed I was a woman, so I likened to be a man, and that shamed me further in your eyes. A mother has pride and forgiveness in her for the terrible things the world can do to her children; a father defends. You did not.”
Caipin falls to her knees, her husband weeps with her.
“You were a tramp who asked for the trouble!” shrieks a blood haired woman, older, meaner looking. “Yeh asked for it fer it by bein with the townies. And the Mothers saw you punished right fer it, yeh slut.”
Ah. So quickly do they forget; I’m a vampire.
I blink across the ground with new found speed, a gift I got from Liam, I think. Not sure. But I seriously invade the woman’s bubble. Murmuring, “Among us vampires there is a tradition that states we can reclaim the blood of our children whenever we please. I can tell you right now that my contribution to you is probably minor, but I won’t know until I take all of it…”
She screams and falls away from me, my fangs are out and my mien is beasial. Another legacy of Liam… I tried so hard to get my humanity back.
But now there are angry warriors and mages and werewolves all around me. I look at them coldly. “When I first came here I thought you were good and decent people, because I wanted to believe that I could be part of something good and decent.
“As it turned out, for the most part, you are. But you are also a family. Which means, in short fucked up. Now, as my dear daughters told me, this is a place of power. Watch your words with care, or I will silence you.” I return to my girls. “Also, I rather like these three. I will brook no insult to them.”
I glare at the crowd. “None.”
They back down. Violence perceived is violence achieved.
“Daughters, I have ended the threat to you that is Liam. I have slain the Elders that sought your blood. I ask that you leave Ira alone for a year then you do what you want to him. I ask you to release these three children of your tribes to wander as they see fit. They will return to you, some day.
“Not that you deserve it.”
My girls, standing so tall, despite their hurts.
“Hannah, she has learned to be leader of men and I can teach her nothing more of how to use a blade, staff, or other hand weapon. Rabbit has learned the ways of the tell, the small hints, the sly words. She is also nearly as gifted in taking the world in and making sense of it. Finally, Jory, whom I love and cherish, can split your fucking skulls with an arrow from the darkness before you’ve noticed the same thing happened to your mates.
“Most of all, you gave me rebels. Misfits. Rejects. I understand, you’d never give me your best and brightest for a risky scheme. But they don’t want to come back to you. I claim Liam’s share of your blood, Daughters. I claim my own. And your daughters? They claim theirs too. Give them your blessing, tell them they will be welcomed when they return, and then leave them be.”
Airgdif regains her feet. “And you’ll keep them for yourself?”
“Of course not. They know what it means to be at my side. I think they want that less than to be with you. I’m just giving them the means to have options.” I sigh.
“I still owe you, my family, and you will still be paid. But consider your debts with these three paid, and give them a chance. I bought it dearly enough for them.”
Say your goodbyes girls. Say your goodbyes.
Of course the Mothers agreed, and there was tears, and anger, and secrets hidden. When we left the girls were quiet.
28 March, 2014
London, England
“Goodbye Grandfather.”
“We love you, Grandfather.”
“Thank you.”
The last was from Jory. I gave them all my contact drop information, made sure they each had five thousand euro in cash, and a bank card with thirty more. They had I.D.’s that declared them 18 years of age. They had everything they needed.
Just that I wouldn’t have everything I needed when they left.
They hug me one last time, kiss my cheek, and then my girls are on a train to Paris. They are gone, and I hope forever.
But I also hope they are not.
One last family meeting.
28 March, 2014
Parliament, London, England
I am in a room that most don’t know about in Parliament. It is the Queen’s office, where she handles a lot of the ins and outs of daily political life. It is also her court room, star chamber, and most expertly defended stronghold.
No, no, Queen Anne, as I’m sure you already know. I see you there, in the back, the old teak and ebony of the walls polished with oils until they drink the light. My sire, Lord Whitmark Royce Casterly.
I wonder you know what your sire did to you, to us? He used some means beyond my ken to curse us with an inability to heal efficiently; Rabbit hinted at it, but when the Beast bypassed the problem with no effort, and then it was reversed once my mind got back to driving…
He made us weaker, intentionally, in case he had to strike us down, or we came for him.
Smart man, wish I could fault him. Not sure how, or why, he did it. But it was him.
The Baron is there as well. His Shadow stood behind him, at the Baron’s nod he left the room.
At her desk was the Queen. We were all cousins of the same Lineage, descended through Mithras. I kneel before the Queens desk, “You may rise, Francis.”
I look to the group, and I cannot help myself. “Kaleh nikto del foos moo, good evening Cousins.”
You, Whitmark, grimace.
The Baron and the Queen have a stone face. “My apologies, cousins. It is how they start a gathering of the Cousins in Seattle.”
“Report, Francis” the Queen is short shrift.
“Yes, your Majesty. Yuria has fallen to the fangs of her grandchilde, Mike. The locals, including our Couisn Kevin MacGooley, believe Mike engineered the coup in revenge for his Sire’s death. They believe that I was an agent of the Baron under the name Devon Phillips. They are also aware that Francis Casterly came to usher the Domain of Limerick into Anarch hands so as to not be wiped out by Pascek and his allies.”
“And the reports of a werewolf fighting in the midst of this conflict?” the Baron inquires.
“Rumors and speculation. Several Gangrel were present, though I cannot conclude what the witnesses saw.” Careful lie, that one.
“And why not return the Domain to Our auspices of the Camarilla?” Queen Anne asks.
“Because then Pascek would spend a little strength eliminating it. Instead he has to massage the situation and use different resources for the sake of message. His claim is that it is a Brujah resistance ties into the narrative of the Anarch revolt and many Anarchs are in his camp. He claims that he allowed an Anarch domain to blossom to alleviate the disaster of losing Yuria.”
“And Liverpool?” she is staring through me. She is not a thrilled woman.
“Expediency in the field, your Majesty. By ensuring their position you can have an ally; but you also have to be aware that Pascek can do the same. Either way she is neither friend, nor foe, but that which ever is stronger in her backyard is the one she will back.”
“And you assured this how?” the Baron is getting nervous? No. Just thorough.
“I gave her one quarter of the encrypted papers from Yuria’s safe. She has enough potential blackmail and intel access to make everyone’s lives miserable. But she doesn’t have it decrypted and I doubt she ever will. But she can credibly threaten that she does.”
The room goes quiet for a few moments before the Baron grinds out, “Why would you do something so blessedly foolish?”
I smile at him, not in a nice way. “I purchased a peace. And you did authorize me to do these sorts of things in your name.”
You and the Queen look at the Baron. “Are you insane?” you almost ask the Baron. I can see your lips form the words, but no sound comes out.
“Clearly you judged him less of a fool when you assigned him the task, Baron.” Now the Queen is amused.
“And I did complete the task. Ireland is in chaos, Yuria’s popular support is crumbling with the word that her own lineage turned on her, supported on the back end by the Ventrue, and I took an enemy and placed them in the neutral column while leaving you a potential fifth column in Limerick as an invasion staging route. Apologies for lacking in strategic vision.”
And I went too far. “And you will not need to remind Us again, Francis,” the Queen could solve global warming with that tone.
“And I did not wish our involvement to be known.” the Baron hisses.
“It would have been presumed. Now it is an open secret, half confirmed legend. ‘Oh, Mike was used as a tool of the Ventrue’ is a far cry different from ‘Mike asked for Ventrue support’ - Mike is the traitor who reached out to the enemies of Yuria and the cause, who, of course, took advantage. We just took advantage instead of initiating the action. Morale-wise, they will consider that they have potential enemies within and that the Ventrue have a proven capacity to intervene; maybe they should get to that well of support first.”
The Queen nods. “We find some fault in that assessment. But the structure is sound.”
“My Queen, I ask of thee a boon.” This is formal language.
“What boon do you crave of Us, Francis?”
“I ask that you grant a letter of Amaranth to Mike for the destruction of Yuria. Date it for a year ago. Have a magician do things to it so that it passes muster. I’ll see to it that it is given to the right people for dissemination.”
She ponders, as this is an Elder nightmare. Neonates running around with Royal Grants of Amaranth? Not a good thing.
But politics wins.
“Done. We shall have it drafted.”
“Thank you, my Queen.”
“And what of you Francis? That was not a claim of reward, merely of furtherance of your own plot. Tell me, what can the Queen of the Isles give to you?”
I pause, as this could likely get me killed. “I need a letter of Amaranth authorizing the Diablerie of Liam of Limerick.”
The Queen is not amused. “Two letters of Amaranth? And who shall receive this grant?”
“I will.”
Yup. Like a fart in church.
You look at me with undisguised horror. “Oh, Francis…”
I shake my head. “I did it in the defense of myself and those dear to me. More accurately, my Beast did.”
“That is no excuse!” The Baron is visibly perturbed.
“Really? This horror that I’ve done? How many sires have reclaimed their Blood, as is their right, from childer in such a fashion? How many fallen foes on the battlefield have had the same fate? My Lord Baron, choke on the hypocrisy of Elders, if you will. I cannot hide what I have done, I merely seek to legitimize the activity and inform someone in case…” I trail off, swallow, “In case I do it again. Because my Beast has a taste for it, and I do not care for that one whit.”
Queen Anne leans back in her chair, a carved, throne like thing. “We will do this Francis. You are correct in that you were in the field of battle, and you have won us an important victory. But one last thing, which ever Domain you return to had better be your home for a century; because if you leave that Domain you will be hunted.”
I laugh, mirthlessly. “Sire, remember your outrage at Luthias having done to those Sabbat? Temper that with I was saving lives. Liam was insane, driven mad in the week of nightmares.”
“Luthias is dead, Francis. Justice caught up with him. Sadly, I believe it will with you as well,” you tell me.
“Dead? Goodness.”
“As are the Barcelonans.”
“Well, Seattle it is then. I shall return to Seattle and make it as Anarch as can be.”
“About that,” the Baron starts.
I glance at all three Kindred. “Oh, I sense something terrible coming.”
“You must repair the rift with the Cousins in Seattle,” you tell me.
“But they want to kill me because I’m an anarch and Longfellow was an idiot. An idiot whom you owed a debt to for raising me, that I payed off.”
“Your diligence is noted Francis,” you start.
I hold up my hand. “No, it is not noted. I get that I am a tool and a pawn to you, my Queen and Baron and Lord. But do not mistake my family loyalties as ‘diligence’. I owe you a debt, and once it is paid, it is paid in full. I just have sixty years left to pay it.”
You do not like this answer, this demand for independence. “I left the Camarilla because I see the world tightening on us, my Cousins. The Anarchs have fewer resources as an institution but more freedom for me to experiment in new ways of surviving our current world. That Camarilla is not flexing enough and will break if the pressure gets great enough; the Sabbat have little resistance to the pressure and will just be flattened, surviving by swarming it over with the remnants. Things are stirring, awaking, moving. And I need to have the dogma-free zone I can build in the Anarchs. Someday you might need it too.”
“You are impassioned and convinced of your argument, Francis,” the Queen tells me. “And you have done us a great service. We shall consider your letter payment from the throne.”
I nod. I can tell this is a dismissal.
You and I walk with the Baron in the halls of power, me with two letters absolving the most horrific crime possible for us to commit. You, pensive, and wondering what happened to me since you left me. Have you made another Percy?
Perhaps.
“Sire, might I have word with My Lord Baron?”
You go a distance away, then sigh as I stare at you pointedly to go further.
“What do you want you horrible man?” the Baron spits at me.
“I told a few lies. I have the papers, the translated ones, that show movements in your investments in Liverpool to shells that Yuria controlled. It’s not a smoking gun but is enough that Queen Anne would boot you out of court,” I toss out.
“You…”
“I’m not done Baron,” I cut him off. Gently, but still I cut him off.
“Yuria can reappear, My Lord Baron. And if she does then all our good work is ruined. Especially if she is so upset that you took a direct hand against her that she reveals your relationship…”
“What are you…”
“My Lord Baron, you weren’t helping her. I know it, now. But she got to your steward and stole your seal in the 1970’s and with those she forged enough dirt on you that she threatened to expose your ‘relationship’ with her not to you but to one who is utterly loyal to you and would do anything to protect you.”
His eyes go wide, and they flick at his Shadow.
“Yuria likes that Judo manuever, to turn a strength against a foe. The clue was the cipher; Selim taught it to me as he learned from his Master. Why would it be in Yuria’s papers? And then I found a copy of your seal; the one I recovered decades ago? I put it together from there.”
Flatly, he asks, “What do you want?”
I shrug. “I shall make sure that Yuria does not surface and you make sure I don’t get killed by the family. And I’ll return the incriminating papers to you. For those your pet sorcerer is going to teach me how to take Tremere apart, mystically.”
“That means I will lose his services while he teaches you.”
“Yes. Briefly. He will be my ally, and he shall teach me the ways of the Wind, of the Steel, and of the Owl. And you will order him to do these things in penance for betraying you, knowing that I might replace him someday. He truly loves you, it shows in his letters to Yuria. And Selim can take his place for those absences.”
The Baron ponders for a moment. “You are a credit to my Blood, you know.”
“I do. I also know that you crippled your Childer, and in a way, I respect what you did. Your risk assessment was spot on.”
He looks at me. “My Lord Baron, I will not presume us to be equals, but I do think we can be allies. Much as you have provided mentoring to my Sire, will you provide me similar access as an ally? At the very least it guarantees that I will continue to serve the Clan interests with my particular sets of skills.”
Also means he has an interest in growing my skills.
He ponders for a moment. “You presume much, for a Childe so young.”
I nod. “I do. And I cannot pretend humility.”
He smiles in a slow and wicked way. “And thus you prove you are of our lineage. I will consider it.”
“Thank you, my Lord Baron.”
And I wrote this all down for you, Lord Whitmark Casterly. Because you needed to know what I’ve seen behind your Ivory Tower, the midden heap of ideals. But I know you will keep your faith, and I will keep mine as well. Some day the tower will fall.
But not by my hand.
Epilogue: Family
By Ben Vaughan
20 Miles outside of Limerick
I’m at the green on the hillside. The girls are with me, Strong and Brittle Hannah, Cunning and Traumatized Rabbit, Sad and Wounded Jory. We wait for the mothers to arrive.
After twenty minutes a caravan of campers comes winding up the road to the fairground. They park in a semi-circle around us, like the yank westerns with the wagons against the Indians.
The mothers come out of one of the campers; this is no bit of mind fuckery that they’ve done to make this meeting better. They are hugely pregnant, their husbands come out behind them, filled with hostility, hate, and more importantly, fear. I can taste the fear on them now, it seems.
“Father, as agreed, you’ve brought our daughters back to us.” They are as I remember them, silver blonde, black as night, and red as blood.
“Not quite my daughters.”
Everything goes still.
“These three are my grandchildren. They fought with me, bled with me, and almost died with me and for me. I owe them a debt, daughters. They asked me to bring them here. And they asked me to take them away when we are done.”
The Mothers look pissed. “You would take our children, despite your oaths?” Airgdif demands.
“No. I am fulfilling my oath. Girls?”
Hannah faces her mother. “You asked to have a night of joy, my first night of love, turned to a cheap and horrible thing because you were upset that he wore a condom. That is not a thing a mother should do. Nor should a father.”
Airgdif and her husband look like they’ve been shot, they both inhale sharply and turn pale.
Rabbit steps forward, “And you shouldn’t ask a daughter to do these things, to change memories and minds for the good of the family. Just because you have the power does not mean you should use it. This is not a thing a mother should ask of her daughter, nor a father.”
Beanna has tears welling up in her eyes, and her husband clutches her hand.
Jory steps forward, and Caipin is already swaying. “I was raped, mother. And when I became with child you took the child away because the Old Magic didn’t show in him. I have a son I’ll never know, and left me with nothing by hurt and shame. And when I killed the man that did this… That hurt me, you shunned me. Made me ashamed I was a woman, so I likened to be a man, and that shamed me further in your eyes. A mother has pride and forgiveness in her for the terrible things the world can do to her children; a father defends. You did not.”
Caipin falls to her knees, her husband weeps with her.
“You were a tramp who asked for the trouble!” shrieks a blood haired woman, older, meaner looking. “Yeh asked for it fer it by bein with the townies. And the Mothers saw you punished right fer it, yeh slut.”
Ah. So quickly do they forget; I’m a vampire.
I blink across the ground with new found speed, a gift I got from Liam, I think. Not sure. But I seriously invade the woman’s bubble. Murmuring, “Among us vampires there is a tradition that states we can reclaim the blood of our children whenever we please. I can tell you right now that my contribution to you is probably minor, but I won’t know until I take all of it…”
She screams and falls away from me, my fangs are out and my mien is beasial. Another legacy of Liam… I tried so hard to get my humanity back.
But now there are angry warriors and mages and werewolves all around me. I look at them coldly. “When I first came here I thought you were good and decent people, because I wanted to believe that I could be part of something good and decent.
“As it turned out, for the most part, you are. But you are also a family. Which means, in short fucked up. Now, as my dear daughters told me, this is a place of power. Watch your words with care, or I will silence you.” I return to my girls. “Also, I rather like these three. I will brook no insult to them.”
I glare at the crowd. “None.”
They back down. Violence perceived is violence achieved.
“Daughters, I have ended the threat to you that is Liam. I have slain the Elders that sought your blood. I ask that you leave Ira alone for a year then you do what you want to him. I ask you to release these three children of your tribes to wander as they see fit. They will return to you, some day.
“Not that you deserve it.”
My girls, standing so tall, despite their hurts.
“Hannah, she has learned to be leader of men and I can teach her nothing more of how to use a blade, staff, or other hand weapon. Rabbit has learned the ways of the tell, the small hints, the sly words. She is also nearly as gifted in taking the world in and making sense of it. Finally, Jory, whom I love and cherish, can split your fucking skulls with an arrow from the darkness before you’ve noticed the same thing happened to your mates.
“Most of all, you gave me rebels. Misfits. Rejects. I understand, you’d never give me your best and brightest for a risky scheme. But they don’t want to come back to you. I claim Liam’s share of your blood, Daughters. I claim my own. And your daughters? They claim theirs too. Give them your blessing, tell them they will be welcomed when they return, and then leave them be.”
Airgdif regains her feet. “And you’ll keep them for yourself?”
“Of course not. They know what it means to be at my side. I think they want that less than to be with you. I’m just giving them the means to have options.” I sigh.
“I still owe you, my family, and you will still be paid. But consider your debts with these three paid, and give them a chance. I bought it dearly enough for them.”
Say your goodbyes girls. Say your goodbyes.
Of course the Mothers agreed, and there was tears, and anger, and secrets hidden. When we left the girls were quiet.
28 March, 2014
London, England
“Goodbye Grandfather.”
“We love you, Grandfather.”
“Thank you.”
The last was from Jory. I gave them all my contact drop information, made sure they each had five thousand euro in cash, and a bank card with thirty more. They had I.D.’s that declared them 18 years of age. They had everything they needed.
Just that I wouldn’t have everything I needed when they left.
They hug me one last time, kiss my cheek, and then my girls are on a train to Paris. They are gone, and I hope forever.
But I also hope they are not.
One last family meeting.
28 March, 2014
Parliament, London, England
I am in a room that most don’t know about in Parliament. It is the Queen’s office, where she handles a lot of the ins and outs of daily political life. It is also her court room, star chamber, and most expertly defended stronghold.
No, no, Queen Anne, as I’m sure you already know. I see you there, in the back, the old teak and ebony of the walls polished with oils until they drink the light. My sire, Lord Whitmark Royce Casterly.
I wonder you know what your sire did to you, to us? He used some means beyond my ken to curse us with an inability to heal efficiently; Rabbit hinted at it, but when the Beast bypassed the problem with no effort, and then it was reversed once my mind got back to driving…
He made us weaker, intentionally, in case he had to strike us down, or we came for him.
Smart man, wish I could fault him. Not sure how, or why, he did it. But it was him.
The Baron is there as well. His Shadow stood behind him, at the Baron’s nod he left the room.
At her desk was the Queen. We were all cousins of the same Lineage, descended through Mithras. I kneel before the Queens desk, “You may rise, Francis.”
I look to the group, and I cannot help myself. “Kaleh nikto del foos moo, good evening Cousins.”
You, Whitmark, grimace.
The Baron and the Queen have a stone face. “My apologies, cousins. It is how they start a gathering of the Cousins in Seattle.”
“Report, Francis” the Queen is short shrift.
“Yes, your Majesty. Yuria has fallen to the fangs of her grandchilde, Mike. The locals, including our Couisn Kevin MacGooley, believe Mike engineered the coup in revenge for his Sire’s death. They believe that I was an agent of the Baron under the name Devon Phillips. They are also aware that Francis Casterly came to usher the Domain of Limerick into Anarch hands so as to not be wiped out by Pascek and his allies.”
“And the reports of a werewolf fighting in the midst of this conflict?” the Baron inquires.
“Rumors and speculation. Several Gangrel were present, though I cannot conclude what the witnesses saw.” Careful lie, that one.
“And why not return the Domain to Our auspices of the Camarilla?” Queen Anne asks.
“Because then Pascek would spend a little strength eliminating it. Instead he has to massage the situation and use different resources for the sake of message. His claim is that it is a Brujah resistance ties into the narrative of the Anarch revolt and many Anarchs are in his camp. He claims that he allowed an Anarch domain to blossom to alleviate the disaster of losing Yuria.”
“And Liverpool?” she is staring through me. She is not a thrilled woman.
“Expediency in the field, your Majesty. By ensuring their position you can have an ally; but you also have to be aware that Pascek can do the same. Either way she is neither friend, nor foe, but that which ever is stronger in her backyard is the one she will back.”
“And you assured this how?” the Baron is getting nervous? No. Just thorough.
“I gave her one quarter of the encrypted papers from Yuria’s safe. She has enough potential blackmail and intel access to make everyone’s lives miserable. But she doesn’t have it decrypted and I doubt she ever will. But she can credibly threaten that she does.”
The room goes quiet for a few moments before the Baron grinds out, “Why would you do something so blessedly foolish?”
I smile at him, not in a nice way. “I purchased a peace. And you did authorize me to do these sorts of things in your name.”
You and the Queen look at the Baron. “Are you insane?” you almost ask the Baron. I can see your lips form the words, but no sound comes out.
“Clearly you judged him less of a fool when you assigned him the task, Baron.” Now the Queen is amused.
“And I did complete the task. Ireland is in chaos, Yuria’s popular support is crumbling with the word that her own lineage turned on her, supported on the back end by the Ventrue, and I took an enemy and placed them in the neutral column while leaving you a potential fifth column in Limerick as an invasion staging route. Apologies for lacking in strategic vision.”
And I went too far. “And you will not need to remind Us again, Francis,” the Queen could solve global warming with that tone.
“And I did not wish our involvement to be known.” the Baron hisses.
“It would have been presumed. Now it is an open secret, half confirmed legend. ‘Oh, Mike was used as a tool of the Ventrue’ is a far cry different from ‘Mike asked for Ventrue support’ - Mike is the traitor who reached out to the enemies of Yuria and the cause, who, of course, took advantage. We just took advantage instead of initiating the action. Morale-wise, they will consider that they have potential enemies within and that the Ventrue have a proven capacity to intervene; maybe they should get to that well of support first.”
The Queen nods. “We find some fault in that assessment. But the structure is sound.”
“My Queen, I ask of thee a boon.” This is formal language.
“What boon do you crave of Us, Francis?”
“I ask that you grant a letter of Amaranth to Mike for the destruction of Yuria. Date it for a year ago. Have a magician do things to it so that it passes muster. I’ll see to it that it is given to the right people for dissemination.”
She ponders, as this is an Elder nightmare. Neonates running around with Royal Grants of Amaranth? Not a good thing.
But politics wins.
“Done. We shall have it drafted.”
“Thank you, my Queen.”
“And what of you Francis? That was not a claim of reward, merely of furtherance of your own plot. Tell me, what can the Queen of the Isles give to you?”
I pause, as this could likely get me killed. “I need a letter of Amaranth authorizing the Diablerie of Liam of Limerick.”
The Queen is not amused. “Two letters of Amaranth? And who shall receive this grant?”
“I will.”
Yup. Like a fart in church.
You look at me with undisguised horror. “Oh, Francis…”
I shake my head. “I did it in the defense of myself and those dear to me. More accurately, my Beast did.”
“That is no excuse!” The Baron is visibly perturbed.
“Really? This horror that I’ve done? How many sires have reclaimed their Blood, as is their right, from childer in such a fashion? How many fallen foes on the battlefield have had the same fate? My Lord Baron, choke on the hypocrisy of Elders, if you will. I cannot hide what I have done, I merely seek to legitimize the activity and inform someone in case…” I trail off, swallow, “In case I do it again. Because my Beast has a taste for it, and I do not care for that one whit.”
Queen Anne leans back in her chair, a carved, throne like thing. “We will do this Francis. You are correct in that you were in the field of battle, and you have won us an important victory. But one last thing, which ever Domain you return to had better be your home for a century; because if you leave that Domain you will be hunted.”
I laugh, mirthlessly. “Sire, remember your outrage at Luthias having done to those Sabbat? Temper that with I was saving lives. Liam was insane, driven mad in the week of nightmares.”
“Luthias is dead, Francis. Justice caught up with him. Sadly, I believe it will with you as well,” you tell me.
“Dead? Goodness.”
“As are the Barcelonans.”
“Well, Seattle it is then. I shall return to Seattle and make it as Anarch as can be.”
“About that,” the Baron starts.
I glance at all three Kindred. “Oh, I sense something terrible coming.”
“You must repair the rift with the Cousins in Seattle,” you tell me.
“But they want to kill me because I’m an anarch and Longfellow was an idiot. An idiot whom you owed a debt to for raising me, that I payed off.”
“Your diligence is noted Francis,” you start.
I hold up my hand. “No, it is not noted. I get that I am a tool and a pawn to you, my Queen and Baron and Lord. But do not mistake my family loyalties as ‘diligence’. I owe you a debt, and once it is paid, it is paid in full. I just have sixty years left to pay it.”
You do not like this answer, this demand for independence. “I left the Camarilla because I see the world tightening on us, my Cousins. The Anarchs have fewer resources as an institution but more freedom for me to experiment in new ways of surviving our current world. That Camarilla is not flexing enough and will break if the pressure gets great enough; the Sabbat have little resistance to the pressure and will just be flattened, surviving by swarming it over with the remnants. Things are stirring, awaking, moving. And I need to have the dogma-free zone I can build in the Anarchs. Someday you might need it too.”
“You are impassioned and convinced of your argument, Francis,” the Queen tells me. “And you have done us a great service. We shall consider your letter payment from the throne.”
I nod. I can tell this is a dismissal.
You and I walk with the Baron in the halls of power, me with two letters absolving the most horrific crime possible for us to commit. You, pensive, and wondering what happened to me since you left me. Have you made another Percy?
Perhaps.
“Sire, might I have word with My Lord Baron?”
You go a distance away, then sigh as I stare at you pointedly to go further.
“What do you want you horrible man?” the Baron spits at me.
“I told a few lies. I have the papers, the translated ones, that show movements in your investments in Liverpool to shells that Yuria controlled. It’s not a smoking gun but is enough that Queen Anne would boot you out of court,” I toss out.
“You…”
“I’m not done Baron,” I cut him off. Gently, but still I cut him off.
“Yuria can reappear, My Lord Baron. And if she does then all our good work is ruined. Especially if she is so upset that you took a direct hand against her that she reveals your relationship…”
“What are you…”
“My Lord Baron, you weren’t helping her. I know it, now. But she got to your steward and stole your seal in the 1970’s and with those she forged enough dirt on you that she threatened to expose your ‘relationship’ with her not to you but to one who is utterly loyal to you and would do anything to protect you.”
His eyes go wide, and they flick at his Shadow.
“Yuria likes that Judo manuever, to turn a strength against a foe. The clue was the cipher; Selim taught it to me as he learned from his Master. Why would it be in Yuria’s papers? And then I found a copy of your seal; the one I recovered decades ago? I put it together from there.”
Flatly, he asks, “What do you want?”
I shrug. “I shall make sure that Yuria does not surface and you make sure I don’t get killed by the family. And I’ll return the incriminating papers to you. For those your pet sorcerer is going to teach me how to take Tremere apart, mystically.”
“That means I will lose his services while he teaches you.”
“Yes. Briefly. He will be my ally, and he shall teach me the ways of the Wind, of the Steel, and of the Owl. And you will order him to do these things in penance for betraying you, knowing that I might replace him someday. He truly loves you, it shows in his letters to Yuria. And Selim can take his place for those absences.”
The Baron ponders for a moment. “You are a credit to my Blood, you know.”
“I do. I also know that you crippled your Childer, and in a way, I respect what you did. Your risk assessment was spot on.”
He looks at me. “My Lord Baron, I will not presume us to be equals, but I do think we can be allies. Much as you have provided mentoring to my Sire, will you provide me similar access as an ally? At the very least it guarantees that I will continue to serve the Clan interests with my particular sets of skills.”
Also means he has an interest in growing my skills.
He ponders for a moment. “You presume much, for a Childe so young.”
I nod. “I do. And I cannot pretend humility.”
He smiles in a slow and wicked way. “And thus you prove you are of our lineage. I will consider it.”
“Thank you, my Lord Baron.”
And I wrote this all down for you, Lord Whitmark Casterly. Because you needed to know what I’ve seen behind your Ivory Tower, the midden heap of ideals. But I know you will keep your faith, and I will keep mine as well. Some day the tower will fall.
But not by my hand.
Epilogue: Family
By Ben Vaughan