Fantasy Hunter's Moon: The Sin & Sentence [IC] [CLOSED]

[K0mori]

There was a surprised murmur that rippled through the room as the Tsar gave his brief declaration. Unto that point, the leaders of Adonia had been almost unanimous in their positions, a great surprise given that King Newmont had postured heavily on the side of hostilities before the summit, flooding Red Gorge with soldiers, before suddenly reversing directions to support Queen Allemand's agenda, which included a much softer approach to the questions posed by Nocturne. It might have been that Velin was continuing to strike fear into the delegations as she had done before, but this time through her own repentance. Many in the room wondered if the disgraced goddess would oppose the Tsar's intent, or even threaten him, but for now, she remained silent.

"I have something to say!" a man interjected from the Daristeinian section of the room. It was Ernst Fowler, the head of the striking Alchemical Union of Kolnstadt, AUK. "I apologize for interrupting the proceedings, but I cannot remain silent any longer. My name is Fowler, and I represent the force of over eight hundred men and women who have laid down their alchemical tools for the sake of common decency. My union is only a subsidiary of that managed by Frau Klostermann, but we in particular were entrusted with a gruesome task." Having gotten the entire room's attention, Ernst reached into his coat pocket and removed an innocuous looking device which resembled a cigar, but with a ring of glass in the middle. "What I hold in my hands," he revealed, "is the doom of all vampires."

With a twist of his hands, there was a brief spark within the glass ring and a flash of light. To most it resembled a camera flash, but the vampires of the Nocturne delegation recoiled. A thin trail of smoke rose from the end of the device, and Ernst quickly placed it back into his pocket. Checking themselves over, none of the vampires had actually been harmed, but they had sensed an undeniable danger and glared at Ernst hatefully. He looked back apologetically, but the demonstration was necessary to prove a point. "You have just witnessed proof of an alchemy so cruel, I am begging for its research and development to be banned entirely... We have learned how to transfer the energy contained within common fuels into a light imbued with the characteristics of the sun. This task was demanded of us by the Church, and until we forced the closure of our workshops and manufactories, we were on target to develop a range of weapons- hand torches, flares, and even bombs..."

Ernst looked fiercely at the leaders of the nations, and even galled himself enough to stare down Velin herself. "These weapons were to be stockpiled in Kolnstadt, in the heart of Adonia, where an extensive network of railroad lines converge. I think we all know what this suggests: we were creating the tools with which the complete extermination of vampires was to be carried out. Of course, when the project began, we did not know that the haven to where the Nachtmenschen were escaping was in fact off shore, out of the reach of trains. It was doubtlessly meant to be carried out swiftly, ruthlessly... efficiently. And now I, no, we fear that Pandora's box has been opened. AUK refuses to manufacture another of these infernal devices, and we have destroyed much of our research. But if we were able to achieve this in less than three years of concentrated effort, then perhaps other alchemists will take up the devil's work and invent it all over again."

Ernst sighed. "...And then where will we be? Will weapons of mass extermination flow from Daristein to Tsavania, and be employed against Nocturne? Will they be sold to the other nations, to prepare for future 'eventualities?' Perhaps Escaria would like to keep a stockpile, just in case their experiment goes awry in some way. No, I must beg of the world: do not allow this. You must not allow this to happen, or I must agree with the assessment offered by the Archbishop- that your overtures are insincere." He sat down, receiving pats on the back from two friends, including one of his largest investors, Albrecht Fallensteller. His own money was hanging in the balance, as he had invested in AUK's research prior to the Church's mandate, and even as that research was delayed at great cost, Albrecht continued to invest, having come to fully support the Union's strike. He, too, looked over the delegations expectantly.

Queen Allemand cleared her throat. "On behalf of my people, I find it almost insulting that you would believe we came here to tell lies," she replied. "I condemn the Tsavanian position. The people of Nocturne are refugees; it is not their fault that their leader is a moral absolutist, and an unapologetic madman at that. Moreover, Escaria will not be purchasing a single one of these solar weapons- not for research, nor for any 'eventualities' as you put it... I not only urge my fellow sovereigns to pledge the same, but I strongly implore Madame Klostermann and the Church to agree with that man's demands."

 

[Infab]

Klostermann legitimately looked shocked, looking to Ernst and the rest of the striking Alchemists, before looking to Velin. Velin remained as quiet as she had been the entire time, staring down at the table. Undite looked horrified, from what the room could see of her face. Her head snapped about, and she stared at Velin for a few moments before speaking. "The Church condemns the production and use of these new solar weapons, and sternly requests that the nations of the Summit ban their production and use as well. These are cruel weapons, born of an intense hatred that only a certain goddess formerly possessed."

Newmont had to admit, the idea for solar weapons was ingenious. He wished that it had been developed a bit sooner, but in a more focused form instead of...well, a room clearer. Still, he had to show he was against this. Nobody in their right mind would openly refuse to ban these weapons. "Atraca condemns and will ban their use as well, and requests that the current stockpile be destroyed. This is unacceptable." he stated. Tsavania seemed to be on the same page. At least in regards to the solar weapons.

"Such weapons prove no use against vampires with enchanted trinkets, or purebloods. Even dhampirs are immune. It only solves a portion of the problem." he stated bluntly. "Tsavania has no need for these weapons. Do as you wish with them."

Finally Klostermann spoke up. "I...will make sure that the program that produced these devices is shut down permanently. No more solar weapons will be produced, under penalty of expulsion from the Union." She needed to remain in the good graces of Nocturne, if the Union were to be able to do proper business with the fledgling nation.

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

Never before in their lives would either of the two Ridge dwellers ever have expected to see something like this. A tiny box that holds the power of the sun. Small, portable, but extraordinarily deadly. Flamethrowers, grenades, machine guns, even all the automatics the Warders have could not face off against the might of this small box. For decades, with whatever brain power the Numbers could muster, they've always tried innovating their weapons just to keep everyone on the island in line.

But not like this. Not like this.

Langa looks rightly horrified and unsettled to the point he might fly out of his seat while Kregore very shakily puts his hand on his forehead. He takes a very deep breath and exhales loudly with a grunt before he gently brushes his seat behind him as he stands up.

"JOU KNOW... A NICE NUN, A VERY SWEET WOMAN THAT HAD BEEN LEFT BEHIND WHEN DIE ATRACANS HAD ABANDONED US, HAD TOLD ME TO GO AROUN' DIE WERELD WIT' HER. SHE SAY, THERE IS LIFE BEYOND THE RIDGE! COME AN' SEE THE WORLD AN' ALL ITS BEAUTY WITH ME!... WELL, THE WORLD IS ALL HERE IN THIS ROOM TODAY, AN' ALL I SEE IS PROOF THAT SHE IS FOKKEN STUPID! THERE IS NOTHING HERE, NO AMOUNT OF FILTH, OF INSANITY, OF IG-NO-RANCE THAT I CANNOT FIND IN THE RIDGE! FOKKEN TREATING A GENOCIDE LIKE IT'S NOFF, FOKKEN BREAKING DOWN A BROKEN MAN INTO EVEN SMALLER PIECES, FOKKEN TRYING TO FOKK HIM OVER OUT OF PROTECTING HIS PEOPLE FROM JOU. BUT NOW, I SEE HERE IT IS WORSE! THERE IS A FOKKEN BOX THAT HOLDS THE SUN TO KILL ALL HIS KIND! WHAT DIE FOKK IS THIS!?" He lets out another grunt as he catches his breath after being worked up by what he had just seen. His jacket comes off due to how he's sweating now and it's slung over his shoulder. "IF THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN MISSING HERE IN THE MAINLAND, JOU FOKKERS CAN KEEP THIS SHIT IN JOUR WORLD! I DON'T EVER WANT TO LIVE IN A LAND AMONG YOU FOKKEN HYPOKRITES! I FEEL SAFER IN. FUCKING. PRISON!" Though earlier he had been showing off trying to get into Nocturne's good graces, there's more than just a hint of genuine outrage in his tone now.

With his piece said, he storms out of the room with his fists clenched tightly. "FOKKEN 77S, BRU. HOW THE FOKK DO DEY STOMACH THIS SHIT..." he growls.

Meanwhile, Langa awkwardly looks back and forth between his boss leaving and the rest of the delegation. "I... I have no words for what I just saw... I'm leaving too. Good day." He takes his hat off for a moment while performing a slight bow before running off to the exit.

 

[Dmaster]

Camille rolled her fingers across the table's surface as the Tsar proclaimed his continued hostilities. No good would come of warring against Nocturne, the people were merely blinded and manipulated by the insanity of their leader. Even still she said nothing, remaining silent even as the alchemist leaped up from his seat to show off a rather curious device.

The flash got her to wince, squinting her eyes as the black spots cleared as she tried to garner the tactical significance of the weapon. Blinding a foe was good yes, but it could be done without such a complex little thing, certainly. The 'doom of all vampires'? How?

His answer stunned her, the huntress curling her lips as she suddenly paid attention a bit more. If these weapons could harness the sun, that would mean anyone would be able to kill vampires indiscriminately, toss them into crowds to both find and kill targets immediately. The purges would have suddenly been much more efficient with somehow ever more excessive brutality on their side. Even then, the huntress saw no honor in the weaponry at all, a truly cowardly means of victory.

"Hmnph." scoffed Camille as she leaned against the table once more. "I suppose this is what you get when you send a scholar to do the job of a hunter."

After the demonstration the brutish off across the table voiced how displeased he was before departing, taking his sniveling vampire accomplice with him. She felt nothing as he openly berated the world leaders for being so heinous when so far everyone has openly condemned the weapon. The only reason it had been made was because the most intimidating being in the world ordained it, therefore creating such a terrible thing was the alchemists' easy way out. Camille didn't reply to that mess of a rant, if he refused to see and hear what was happening directly in front of him it was good riddance, not like a man such as him was a beacon of upstanding morality in the first place.

"At least proceedings shall be much quieter now." the huntress spoke when they had finally left, shifting in her seat somewhat. "After that outburst I am beginning to believe his odd manner of speech is less of a dialect and more a symptom of head injury."

 

[Breadman]

Royland gripped the handle of his sword as the vampire spoke. This creature was not one to listen to any reason. Appropriate for one who reveres Aleister then. A wretch that exists only to stir trouble as peace is being broken between the sides. To his temper's benefit, they seemed to have no interest in proceeding with polluting the talks with their filth and gutterspeak. Good, the less he sees of them, the better. The knight next turned his attention back behind him where the scholar sat. Just how much of this did the small man knew? How comfortable of him to speak of the horrors brought by the church with their purges, but his ilk were the ones to facilitate those tools so readily. No matter now. An almost unanimous condemnation of their existence and those who did not, simply wrote them off as useless.

Theodore in turn had sank in his seat as soon as he saw what those madmen had constructed. It didn't matter what they did now. Unless they had destroyed every last bit of their stock, it was only a matter of time for someone to replicate the results. And how long would it take to make it deadlier? The Tsavarian leader's shortsighted rejection was a blessing to the vampire community stuck in his domain. One less thing to worry about. But could they really count on it? Or that banning it wholesale could do anything? The scholar thought back to how many necromancers and blood mages had slipped through their own draconian rules and regulations. Then another thought crossed his mind. How many of them were already shipped out and smuggled into black market sellers? The genie was out of the bottle and there was no turning back now.

"Indeed, lady Camille." Royland spoke. His eyes fixated towards the alchemist who brought the infernal devices to their attention "Don't think your gesture of goodwill means that your work is over, ser. The purges against the supernaturals may be over, but the one aimed against the zealots and fanatics within our ranks has only begun. If we are to reform the church, we need your cooperation." The mask hid Theodore's confusion as to why Royland of all people was condemning fanatics and zealots. "By the powers granted to me by Lady Velin and the Church, I formally request your aid. Names, dates, suppliers. Everything you can give us. Once we find the fiends who ordered the production among our ranks, it will make tracking down potential rogue alchemists and preventing further tragedy easier. I ask for you to gather every last shred of information you have and pass it along to Inquisitor Sara Reed and former inquisitor Theodore Boivin for them to investigate and pass along their findings to any other agency or organization who can use it."

"Merde!" Theodore's tired outburst forced the knight to turn around "It appears I said the quiet part out loud." He said a bit sheepishly realizing what he said. He looked around nervously for a second before continuing "Ser Royland, I hope you understand what you're asking both from me and Inquisitor Reed. We're already neck deep in the investigation against the corrupt archivists. Granted, we're making good headway into it, but that's because of our focus is free of other major distractions. We simply can't do that if we are to adopt another major investigation like this."

"Naturally. I am old, but not hollow in the head just yet, Theodore. To ease your load, I'm ordering that your team be tripled and if need be, more will be assigned. I expect you both pick people you trust to assist you in this matter."

"Right then." Theodore sighed slightly and nodded. The knight was dedicated to keep him within arm's reach for some reason. Why that is, he could only guess for now, so he would have to play along. It was obvious that this was also him posturing to show the Church in a better light. Mopping up it's own messes as they are uncovered. The show was unnecessary, but he had been rather quiet so far and they just gave him a chance and he took it. He never was one for subtlety. But there was a silver lining to this. Figuring out who ordered the production was in line with their previous task and as a result him and Sara would still be performing their duties in cleaning out the church. Should be easy enough to identify the culprits from any evidence the AUK would supply them. "Monsieur Fowler, if you and your colleagues would be so kind to provide what was requested, we can begin our internal investigation."

"Apologies for averting attention." The knight spoke again, his apologetic tone genuine "But action had to be taken on our part as servants of the church and it's followers."

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

No longer in the eyes of all those politicians and monarchists, and no longer having to prop up Nocturne on shaky emotions and logic nobody was buying, Kregore stretches his legs and relaxes on a park bench; watching the few glimpses he could get of a crowded store across from him. The summit went terribly for Nocturne without question. They now have an even worse reputation than before, they've now been made redundant while also facing continued attacks, and he still can't fathom why Aleister was content to sit there as the other delegates shat all over him. Kregore tried to get them to understand Nocturne's perspective but they simply weren't having any of it; throwing insults like 'terrorist' and other slang terms around to discredit them. Nothing he said or done would've worked regardless; they somehow already knew he was criminal refuse from Caraborough from the get go. Maybe that time-controlling cowboy did tell them... It doesn't matter now. None of this matters. He's had his fill of politics, putting on faces, and arguing about things that don't matter to him. All that's left is to sit back and wait until Nocturne is inevitably invaded and news of their 'glorious' destruction reaches his ears... and maybe see if he can get his hands on one of those sun-boxes before they're all destroyed. That'll make executions much more fun, and quick too. Before he can think on where he could get one however, he spots Langa shuffling out of the store towards him.

"[HAVE YOU GOT IT ALL?]" he asks him.

"[Yeah, yeah I got it. And the other thing you asked too.]" Langa pulls out two bottles of liquor from his coat and a packet of cigarettes. Together, they drink the day away while reflecting on whatever in all the hells just happened back in the court house. Langa sits there staring at the dirt and unable to finish his drink while Kregore lets his eyes drift around them.

He gives his subordinate a gentle pat on the back. "[WELL LANGA, WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THIS SUMMIT?]"

Langa slowly raises his head; the distant look of exhaustion all over his face and in his eyes say everything. "[I don't know. Like it was colossal failure and waste of time?]" He wipes his brow as he takes another drink. "[I just didn't think things would go that badly... Now the entire world despises Nocturne, and we're stuck with them. I honestly feel like I got sentenced again.]" Another drink goes down before he looks at his boss. "[What about you?]"

"[I FEEL NOTHING.]" he says, to Langa's surprise. "[YOU SHOULD NOT FEEL ANYTHING EITHER. NOT FOR ANY OF THIS.]"

"[... But didn't you just scream at them and called them all hypocrites?]"

"[THE LATTER BEING THE ONLY TRUTH I EVER SPOKE WHILE INSIDE THERE. EVERYTHING ELSE WAS PURELY FOR SHOW.]" he brushes off. "[... EVEN IF IT DID US AND NOCTURNE NO GOOD WHATSOEVER.]"

Langa hangs his head low; dejected. The question of whether or not his boss was just as concerned about the purges as he was answering itself with a firm 'no'. "[So... what now?]"

"[WE GO HOME, AND HOPE TO NEVER COME BACK HERE. THESE SELF-SERVING HYPOCRITES AND LIARS, THEY ALL DESERVE EACH OTHER.]"

"[And what will we tell Rigo?]"

"[THE TRUTH, AS IS ALWAYS. NOCTURNE HAS BEEN FURTHER VILIFIED, AND A CONTINUATION OF THIS PARTNERSHIP MAY BRING US COMPLICATIONS THAT PREPARATIONS MUST BE MADE TO AVOID.]" He stands up, taking his bottles with him. "[NOW LET'S GO. THERE IS NOTHING FOR US HERE.]"

Wanting to leave the vicinity of the courthouse as soon as possible before it has a chance to draw them back in, neither of the two Ridge dwellers waste any time in legging it back to the hotel they’re staying at. Rudi, Basri, and the other Warders are elsewhere doing other things at the moment, so there’s nothing left for them to do but wait until they come. Langa tries relaxing in a bath while Kregore simply looks outside the window, wondering just what he’ll tell Ratka about what happened here... and about how wrong she really is.

 

[Infab]

The trio of gods, and the rest of the delegations, watched as the Caraborough group left the room. Undite simply shook her head. The man doesn't know the best that the outside world can bring. He's only ever seen the worst of it. And he'll go back to Caraborough, and tell Sister Ratka that she's wrong in every way imaginable based just off this Summit. Undite decided a moment later. She'd have to visit the nun again. After the Summit had concluded for the day. Perhaps she could prepare the nun for things to come.

Velin still hadn't moved or spoke, her eyes firmly locked on the table. Following the indentions and lines in the wood. What could she say to these people? Especially to Royland, whom just demanded an investigation into who requested these devices. It was already quite obvious whom requested it, but only her friend next to her had been able to figure it out. Who in their right mind would want a weapon made for mass executions? The one whom judges and executes en masse. Velin herself. The request was made early on, shortly after the purges had commenced. She went through a few channels in order to get the request out. All of it would be traced back to her, and they would further condemn her. Rightfully so. However, she had already condemned herself. And she'd be paying the price for all her wrongs and errors in due time.

Undite soon spoke again. "Now that the issue with the solar devices presented by Mr. Fowler has been discussed, I am happy to see that the weapons have been mostly condemned across the board. The objects should be gathered up and destroyed, along with the blueprints crafted detailing their manufacture, and a ban should be placed on those attempting to craft solar weaponry." She looked to a scribe, whom was writing down the details of the meeting. They nodded at once another, before Undite looked back to the delegations. "Now, I believe that we will have to return to the topic of Supernaturals and the status of Nocturne at a later date. This will allow nations to get their stances on the matter in proper order, instead of flinging insults at one another and arguing. We have other matters that we should discuss."

She then looked to the paper on the table in front of her, before looking to the two Elven delegations as well as Rebecca. "I believe this one sort of speaks for itself. The return of those long dead, and their current statuses among the living. In particular, the two large Elven groups that have appeared. One in northern Atraca, and one in northeastern Escaria. There are also the Orc bands whom have been captured, as well as the Dwarven members of the population whom are scattered about."

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

Another hour passed by and Langa is still sinking deeper into the tub while sinking further into his thoughts. He lost track of time as to how long he's been locked up in the washroom, yet he's still been unable to work up the nerve to ask Kregore. He has to know, he saw everything in those notes detailing the sheer carnage and cruelty raised against vampires all across the continent; he would know if his mother was among the dead or broken. So, he will ask him. He will ask him, he will not get his answer, he will be decried by him as 'going soft' and will be beaten into a pulp until such 'silly questions' do not bother him anymore. The fear of what Kregore might do keeps him under the bathwater. For the mortal sin of being 'soft', it earned him a ticket from the 77th wing to the 78th, and made him the choice target for the Warders' previous leader. The scars from the unspeakable treatment he was subjected to haven't gone anywhere, and while Kregore was very fortunately strong enough to wrestle control away, there's times where Langa can't see much difference between either of them.

So, he sinks further into the water with only his nose upward breaking the surface, wondering just how different he'd be feeling had he not read those damn notes...

Then with a loud thud, the door is kicked open; Kregore steps inside. He looks over at his own reflection in the mirror before refocusing on Langa. "[RUDI'S WAGON IS COMING DOWN THE STREET. GET READY.]" he says, before washing his face.

"[Warhead...]" Langa starts; Kregore lifts his head. "[Do you recall all you've read in the Archbishop's notes?... Do you remember seeing.... Bousart mentioned anywhere?]"

Kregore nods in response. "[IT WAS WRITTEN. NAMES OF THE DEAD TOO.]"

The water Langa's nearly submerged in turns ice cold, and freezes him to the point of shivering. "[You know, she's... She's not written to me... in months...]" He takes a very deep breath as he wipes his eyes, sits up, and finally comes out with what's been bothering him ever since he's arrived. "[... Is she-]"

"[DEAD?]" Kregore interrupts. Langa stares back at him, looking ready to fall apart on confirmation. "[SHE IS.]" The words almost don't get through to Langa. They bounce around in his head and leave him in a daze of disbelief, and pierce him right through his heart.

"[What... what...]"

Kregore takes a step back from the mirror. "[... I THINK? I DO NOT REMEMBER.]" he shrugs. "[THERE WERE MANY NAMES ON THOSE PAGES, LANGA; NAMES I DID NOT CARE TO READ. IT DOESN'T MATTER.]" Langa sinks back down unsure of how to feel, and notices the subtle look of rebuke Kregore is now giving him. "[CONCERNED FOR YOUR MOTHER?]"

Langa throws his arms in the air, nearly splashing his boss with water in the process. "[Y-Yes! Fuck, yes I am!]"

"[GOING SOFT?]"

He's made silent. The accusation making sure not another word comes out of him.

Kregore shakes his head and sighs. "[LET ME REMIND YOU, EX-STAAFMAN, YOUR PARENTS ARE THE REASON THE RIDGE IS YOUR HOME NOW. THEY ARE NOT YOUR FAMILY ANYMORE. WE ARE. WE ARE YOUR FAMILY NOW. YOU WILL REMEMBER THIS, LANGA. YOU WILL REMEMBER THEY ARE THE REASON WILHELM COULD WRAP HIS HANDS AROUND YOUR NECK.]"

Slowly, he draws near to the tub and envelopes Langa completely in his shadow.

"[AND YOU WILL REMEMBER I AM THE REASON HE NO LONGER CAN.]"

Langa begins to tremble. He sees Kregore raise his hand and expects a strike... only to be patted on his back.

"[I SAVED YOUR LIFE. I SAVED YOUR LIFE. AND I SAVED YOUR LIFE. YOU SEE? I AM YOUR FAMILY NOW, LANGA, AND I HAVE MY EYES OPEN AND HANDS CLOSED FOR YOU AS SUCH. AND YOU WILL DO THE SAME FOR ME SINCE YOU ARE LIKE MY SON... AND A SON ALWAYS TAKES CARE OF HIS FATHER.]"

'Gee, thanks...' thinks Langa as he rubs his face; wishing he were somewhere else right now.

"[I WILL SAY THIS HOWEVER. I DO WISH WILHELM WAS HERE, JUST SO I COULD SEE HIM RIP APART AND RAVAGE EVERYONE IN THAT FUCKING SUMMIT...]"

---​

The blue wagon the Ridge inmates traveled in comes to a stop in front of the hotel's doors. Out steps Rudi, followed by Basri covering himself with an umbrella, and finally the remaining Warders with their guns slung across them.

"-And remember, Falco's men will change the color. Red means 'come'. Blue means 'stay away', so at that point don't even bother." says Rudi to a sweltering Basri.

The Eshaxi vampire assures his friend. "Rudi, please. You're not talking to one of the Bombers. I actually prefer the complexity of this plan. Any simpler and we're all fucked."

The group brush past the busy hotel lobby and slowly wait for the elevator to take them to the floor their room is on. The door unlocks, and they're greeted by the sudden return of their other two comrades.

"Ah, back so soon?" Rudi says, a little surprised. "How was it?"

"It was awful!" speaks Langa while gesticulating wildly. "We tried arguing for Nocturne, we tried making everyone understand, but everyone was too stubborn! Warhead and I just had to leave. Politics just isn't for us..." he bemoans

Rudi laughs at that a little. "Ha! Now you know why I stopped being a minister, yes?"

Langa sighs in response. "Honestly, monsieur, if I ever want to be around chiennes with sticks in their asses, I think I'll just pay Jesse's brothel another visit. At least it's more fun than this."

Meanwhile Kregore speaks up. "I WILL GO AN' BE TELLIN' LORD RIGO WHAT WE SAW AN' HEARD. THEY DO NOT LIKE NOCTURNE VERY MUCH, AND HE WILL WANT TO KNOW EVERYTING IF HE WISHES TO COMPLETE THIS DEAL."

Rudi nods his head. "Then let's not keep him waiting. Have your men pack their things and meet me downstairs. You too, Basri. We will be leaving soon."

Eventually they leave the town of Red Gorge, and eventually they set sail for Caraborough. Langa was still downtrodden over what occured, but Kregore couldn't be any happier. Not because he's finally going home after the nonsense earlier, but because to him, everything he had ever said about the mainland has been validated so far. Though he'll have to report to Rigo about what occurred in the summit, he cannot wait to tell it all to Ratka also. To show her how wrong she is, to finally make her shut up about there being any sort of 'outside world' creates a grin of anticipation on his face. Maybe then she'll stop refusing him. Maybe then she'll see that he's right and that there's no point in fighting back. Maybe then she'll finally give in to him and stop living in accordance to their laws and rules, and to finally have her in his hands would be the greatest thing of all...

 

[Infab]

High above the delegations at the summit, in the civilian seating area overlooking the groups below, the various peoples that had come to watch were talking amongst one another about the numerous things that had been touched on or discussed. The bitter arguments regarding Aleister and Nocturne, Velin's purges and what should be done regarding the goddess, the strange weapon that members of the Alchemist's Union had developed to exterminate vampires, and the sudden departure of some of Aleister's allies. The discussions were fairly audible, able to be heard by most in the vicinity of each. However, there were a few clustered together here and there that were remaining fairly quiet as they discussed their own personal interests and ideas on the subject matter below. A pair in particular sat quietly off to themselves, a man in a fine tailored suit and a woman in an exquisitely crafted black dress. Both pureblood vampires.

"A solar device...I would be interested in such a concept, if it weren't for the fact that it was developed to slaughter our kind outright." said the woman, frowning at the thought of someone setting off the device in a room full of vampires. The man glanced to her. "Indeed. All of the devices need to be destroyed...and hopefully the monarchs and leaders of each of the nations make sure that happens. I perish the thought of a zealot getting their hands on such an item...or one of the other houses." The woman nodded, before slipping her cigarette back in between her lips. "Yes... We don't need another war among the houses." she muttered, glancing across the room at another pair of individuals whom were also talking amongst themselves. These two were far less refined looking, dressed in regular buttoned up shirts and slacks featuring suspenders. They were still well groomed, hair styled just so using pomade and also bearing styled mustaches and beards. Both were also purebloods, it seemed.

The man spoke again. "It seems House Lovelace and House Morgan sent some of their own to observe. I'm surprised House Visconti and House Ossenfelder didn't send anyone...or did they?" he asked, looking to the woman. "They did. Last I saw, they had excused themselves for drinks. Same with the member from House Ruthven. I haven't seen Le Rouge yet, but I assume they're here somewhere." she responded. The man nodded. "And here we are. House Karnstein and House Polidori...Looks like almost everyone wants to see history made." he said, with a chuckle.

The woman chuckled as well. "Well, of course, David." she said, smiling. "There's also the fact that what happens with Nocturne and with this new location the Escarian queen is planning on establishing determines where our houses plant new roots. We must reestablish ourselves in this modern world if we are to survive."

David nodded. "Of course, Rachel." he said, lightly rolling his fingers on the arm of his chair. "But we've survived far worse than Church purges. The War of the Great Houses, the Age of Darkness, the Lowblood Rebellions, the fall of Lady Isabella Karnstein...We'll survive whatever comes. As we always do."

 

[K0mori]

As the focus of the summit gradually shifted from Nocturne's fate to that of the time-displaced elves and other races, there was a general hesitation. Talks had been very contentious when it came to the vampiric upstart nation, and the gathered leaders suspected that things would be even worse in the near future as they were about to propose an even less-sympathetic position. The Escarian queen turned to President Lécuyer and the two held a short, private conversation, before Marie-Claire turned to the room and cleared her throat.

"It may be true," she said solemnly, "that the territories of northeastern Escaria once played home to the elven race. But that is an era bygone; since the Age of Darkness, we have maintained and defended that land, settled and developed it. It is Escarian. It is the position of the Kingdom to recognize the plight of those deposited in this era by strange magics, and to sympathize with their needs as we would with any displaced, impoverished, or refugee population. However, we have no intention of transferring the ownership of said territories for the purpose of creating - or restoring - a sovereign elven state. You are welcome to remain in Escaria and become citizens."

 

[Infab]

Shortly after the Escarian queen finished her statements, one of the Elven delegation stood and spoke. It appeared to be the one representing those elves on the western side of the continent, whom had reappeared in the highlands area on the Atracan and Tsavanian border. She glanced to her eastern elven counterpart next to her, before speaking. "...My name is Arwen Nist. I was once the leader of the elven tribes that had journeyed west, away from the native elven lands in which northeastern Escaria, eastern Daristein, and southeastern Tsavania are now located. We settled in the highlands on the west coast of the continent, in what is now the border territories of Atraca and Tsavania, as well as on the northern coast of Atraca opposite of the isle of Grimtham." she stated.

She looked to both rulers, before sighing and continuing. "...We were more open to humans than our eastern brothers and sisters. We didn't seek to enslave like they did, or slaughter them like our ancestors. All three of my husbands were human, in fact. We just wanted to live in peace."

"...Some believe that is one of the reasons for our downfall. The bloodlines of humanity and elves mixing. Others believe that we were all cut down by the hordes of demons that plagued the land at the time, or were destroyed by the werebeasts that came from Daristein and Tsavania...Perhaps it was all three. Either way, we died out...and Humanity claimed our lands and what remained of our civilizations afterwards. I do not fault them for that...We Elves would have likely done the same had Humanity gone extinct."

Eventually, she looked to King Newmont and the Tsar once more. "...We don't want our entire territory back. I will not demand that of you, King Newmont, or you, Tsar Rastarski. If we are to become citizens of your nations...we simply wish to be granted good land to live on. To farm, grow crops, and build our homes upon."

King Newmont gazed at the elf for a few moments, glancing to the Tsar, before nodding. "...Alright. You and your people shall be granted plots of land in the Highlands. I shall see that if any owned land is claimed, we shall compensate the previous owners properly. You will have the freedom to do what you wish upon your land, as long as it falls within the laws of Atraca. And you will be deemed Atracan citizens for the duration of your lives...or until things are put right and you return from to your original time period."

The Tsar was quick to respond with his own statements. "Tsavania will not grant land to you, whom have been snatched from history and thrown into the modern era. Especially not land which we fought hard to take back from foreign aggressors. And it infuriates me to see stolen Tsavanian land given out to refugees lost in time." Newmont's head snapped back about to glare at the Tsar. "Stolen Tsavanian land? FOREIGN AGGRESSORS?" he spat, "If I recall correctly, Rastarski, you ordered your men to push into the Highlands. We reclaimed OUR land."

 

[SniperComZero]

With great interest whilst sucking on the end of her pipe did Victorié observe the conversation that unfolded before her. The interjections, arguments and compromises being made over Nocturne and its existence. Interesting as it was, it had little bearing on her personally, so she opted to not involve herself with it. Now that the topic had shifted over to her own race, however, did she push herself forward in her chair. Only for the realization that the greatest holder of their land is unwilling to budge on relinquishing it. She turned her head quickly towards Arwen, and then to the two monarchs raising a scene.

"Copains." Victorié said firmly, eyes shifting between both of them. "Surely there is more time in this meeting for the two of you to settle your land disputes when it is relevant, oui?" Her accent was a harsher Escarian than anyone else in the room, and her eyes fell down towards the western elf beside herself. "And if we are to dwell on the sordid actions in the past, you would be much better to discuss with my liege when she returns." [. . .If, she returns.]

"Ahem." Victorié straightened her posture, head turning between the rest of the room's delegations. "I am Victorié Kynewearde, envoy of l'Royaume d'Chamoroux, and sorcière personnelle to Queen Gwenaelle la deuxième." She bent at the waist, one hand held over her midriff, and her other held out in front of her. The motion was fluid, and well-practised, as she stood back up again. "Although it is a... disappointment to hear that you're unwilling to relinquish our ancestral home, I must say, it's not a surprise of a development. I would even agree, to an extent, that a new state appearing as if from air would... be a political upset to some." She laced her fingers together, pausing a moment to take a breath. "Then perhaps a compromise could be made? Much like that which you are making with those of... supernatural kinship. Not that I personally wish to displace homes of your own people, but, I find it a rather... a rather odd, and unfair request to expect those of us plucked from another era entirely to simply up and disperse throughout your own kingdom, non?"

 

[Infab]

Arwen spoke up, looking to her eastern cousin. "If things were reversed, you eastern lot would have simply enslaved them and sold them off. Nothing odd and unfair about what they're offering compared to that." she stated. "We're stuck here in this strange world of the future, and will be stuck here until whatever is wrong is righted. I think we can live in relative peace with what we're given until we're sent back...If we're ever sent back."

She then looked to Marie-Claire. "I assure you, if granted land to rule over, they will crave more. The easterners have always looked down upon humanity, and will attempt to take what they feel belongs to them. There's a saying I heard one of you humans say on the way here. 'Give them an inch, and they'll take a mile.'"

 

[Breadman]

As the topic drifted away from the church and Nocturne, a new debate was taking it's place. Royland relaxed his stance slightly as he was now looking to defend himself and the institution he had devoted his life to as well as the goddess he served. This didn't go unnoticed by Theodore, who was still sunken in his chair. He looked to the knight with annoyance for all the extra work he had just pilled on him, but as the tide of conversation turned, he could not help but wonder if anything would be done to benefit the elves fully. If how they treated vampires and lychantropes is anything to go by, then they have a hard battle on their hands. Even more so as the tsar had already dismissed their claims for land and infighting between the two elven factions was starting to take form. 'Now is not the time. If they want to have any hope of standing for somewhere to live, they need to stand together.' The teacher thought to himself. Inspecting the crowd of delegates and guests, he could make out others that did not fit those who spoke so far. Alchemists, writers, journalists and businessmen. The summit had the eyes of the entire world on it, from just about every part of society.

From the Atracan side one raised his gloved hand. Theodore narrowed his eyes to inspect the man. He looked to be among the younger members of his group. Those men and women with expensive clothing and a calculating look to them. Even so, he must have been in his late thirties at least. Whatever his age was, there was nothing trustworthy about him at a glance.

"Pardon the interruption." The man spoke as he got up from his seat and attracted some attention. "Far be it from me to tell someone how they should run their country and how to look out for one's people, your majesties." His diplomatic tone aimed at the tsar and anyone else that would side with him. Seemingly ignoring what Arwen said "But as someone who has great interest in solving the land disputes as soon as possible with little friction as possible, I must insist on considering the economic impact such decisions would have."

"And who are you, ser?" Royland spoke in term, his arms crossed and gaze fixed to the new individual "That you are to address the monarchs and representatives so directly is rather bold."

"You are right, sir. I forget my manners." The man bowed his head slightly as he lightly smiled and began to talk again as his head rose "I am Robert Fontaine and I represent a group of like minded individuals. The Voxuul veritiid" The corrupted academic terms made Theodore wince "Land owners, businessmen and entrepreneurs from all over the continent. In different times we would be competitors, but as fate would have it, we are now united in a common interest. We realized early on that the displaced elves would cause issues not only for us who push economies, but to society as a whole. We agree with her grace Marie-Claire, their plight is one we cannot turn our backs on, but creating a sovereign state for them at this stage would only create friction between us and them that is completely unnecessary. King Newmont's compassion and generosity are commendable, but it may be misplaced. The land is owned by humans and has been developed by humans for the past how many centuries? Already the common folk are looking at them with suspicion and hate. But to simply dump these souls to the wolves for them to fend for themselves is something the Voxuul veritiid cannot condone." So far Theodore was trying to guess where this train of though was going.

"I ask for you to lend a ear and consider our proposal for this predicament. As luck would have it, my own business can serve as an example. My brothers and I are enjoying success in the field of textile and leather production for clothing stores all over Atraca, so there is a strong backbone we can provide. My private property in the Highlands can still be used to house many displaced elves. My guard can protect them from any outside threats and hateful actions. In return, if they so choose, we will gladly provide them with work in our factories and farms. What we hope to achieve with this is to both normalize humans and elves living together and boost the economy so the standard of living would increase." Fontaine gestured to the people around him "Lady Josephine has a similar offer in Escaria. Mr. Pavlovich in Tsavania and so on and so on."

"You're jut looking to exploit them for cheap labor you damned crook!" Theodore spoke out from his seat. "Your kind of parasites have always jumped on any chance to exploit those who are vulnerable to your ways."

"We are looking to do nothing of the sort, inquisitor." Fontaine calmly answered "What we offer is the bridge to a better world not just for us, but for them as well. What would the church offer? Faith is fine and well, but it doesn't put food on the table and shelter from the storms. We aim to provide opportunity, not scalp them."

"You like to talk about how much you're trying to help these people, yet you haven't addressed them even once directly this entire time, Fontaine. You may be aiming to provide for their basic needs, but what of beyond that?"

"I was getting to that before you so rudely interrupted." Fontaine didn't skip a beat. His slight smile never faded from his face. "Terribly sorry about that ladies. But I am earnest when I say that the Voxuul veritiid are seeking what's best for not only us humans, but for you as well. We have no intention of trampling on your cultures or traditions, but to seek cooperation and coexistence between us." The other members of the group slowly nodded along with what Robert was saying. "And so we make this offer to the gathered leaders. Let us shoulder this burden for a better tomorrow."

 

[K0mori]

"...Burden?" the Escarian queen repeated. "Sir, the Kingdom of Escaria does not consider these people or their needs to be a burden. We see an opportunity to enrich an already grand and storied national culture with the revival of an ancient thread, once lost to history. And while we cannot simply give away a swath of land, we are ready to expand our efforts to assist the elves in their acclimation to this era."

Marie-Claire turned to one of the ministers seated in the Escarian section, who handed her a small pamphlet containing the details of a program which had been long in the works. "Until now, we have treated you as stateless refugees," she said to the elves. "We had no way of knowing, at first, how many elves there were, or their whereabouts, but thanks to extensive work by our social servants, we have conducted a survey which has given us a clear picture of it all. And now, we are ready to move away from our previous efforts to something more formal and organized. Starting on the tenth of November, you will be able to obtain an official carte d'identité, which will entitle you to a monthly stipend that you may spend as you please.

"There shall be no more food stations or makeshift tent cities; you will be able to rent rooms and pay for goods as any other Escarian or visitor might do. There are contractors who have already expressed interest in constructing new, permanent housing near highly-populated areas. Monsieur... Fontaine," she then redirected, having had some trouble remembering the entrepreneur's name, "you and your fellow businesspeople are welcome to invest in these endeavors to integrate the elven race, but I will say that your initial offer sounds... suspect. As the scholar put it, you strike me as a group eager to take advantage of the unfortunate. Be that as it may, I cannot deny you or your associates from operating within the Kingdom's borders, but I will personally ensure your establishments follow all trade laws."

President Lécuyer stood. "A clarification, s'il vous plaît. The stipend money mentioned by her Elegance will come in the form of an alternate currency, equal in value to our own, but which cannot be traded for certain goods." When prompted for more information by a member of the elven delegation, Lécuyer nodded. "Erm, yes... We are speaking of alcohol, tobacco, other frivolous luxuries, and... and firearms and ammunition." There were murmurs of disapproval throughout large portions of the room. "It is not that we fear the elves arming themselves," he reasoned. "We fear that some will turn to banditry and terrorize the rest, or their human neighbors."

 

[Infab]

Arwen nodded towards the Escarian delegation. "That is acceptable...Though I don't know if our eastern cousins will take the deal." she stated. Newmont raised an eyebrow, as he glanced over to the Escarian queen. A welfare program? Atraca will provide the elves with pieces of land, and it was up to them to do what they needed to live in the modern world. He wasn't planning of giving them monetary handouts in order for them to live, as they could get jobs like the rest of Atraca's citizens. Once the elves were gone, the land would be reclaimed. He glanced to Fontaine afterwards. "Do I have your assurances that they will be compensated at the same level as other Atracan citizens, and work the same hours? I will not hesitate to push laws through to guarantee it, if not. I will not have another situation like my predecessor did. Exploited citizens are unhappy citizens. Unhappy citizens cause protests and unrest. Unrest leads to riots, destroying property and businesses. You recall the riots over child labor in 1865?"

Arwen nodded again. "...If those promises are kept, we will accept Mr. Fontaine's proposal. We want to blend in seamlessly until things are put right. I'm sure our dwarven friends wish the same." she stated, "Nothing more." Undite spoke up. "The Church will also offer sanctuary and opportunities to the time-displaced should they request it. We welcome one and all." The Tsar remained stubborn, however, on his stance. "Elves have no place in Tsavania, just like Vampires and other uncontrollable members of the supernatural. If you wish to take them in, so be it, because we will not."

 

[Breadman]

As the continental leaders gave their terms and conditions to his group and their operations, Fontaine nodded along. His face didn't have that smile anymore, instead replaced with a more calculating look. Although he wished they would be outright shut out, Theodore would have to be happy that they are at least putting a leash on this upstart group. Hopefully a short one. There was a few second of quiet after the tsar gave his final word. After that, the Atracan businessman turned to his colleague from Tsavaria

"Tough luck, Pavlovich." The slight smile returned, the Tsavarian in turn looked furious, but bit his tongue. Whatever he was ready to let out would have to wait after the summit. Fontaine turned back towards the leaders. "I believe I can speak for the rest of us calmly when I say that these terms are fair, your majesties. The Blackwater clothing company was built on the back of those who work, your grace." He moved on to address his king's concerns "We make sure to not discriminate and everyone to be given the same opportunity and pay. That won't change anytime soon." He turned to Arwen "If your people want to work and earn their keep, they are more than welcome to our factories and farms. My land and the protection I will provide is also yours." he bowed his head again as he finished.

 

[Infab]

The Summit continued on for several more hours, with topics placed up for debate and discussion. Laws and treaties were written down in their first drafts, to be changed as the Summit went on over the next few days. Eventually, night fell, and it was time for the delegations to retire for the night. The delegations left the building one at a time, moving to enjoy the evening before heading back to their sleeping quarters. The streets were packed again during the night, filled with citizens moving about. Soldiers moved about once more, monitoring the scattered activity as they patrolled the streets and alleyways of Red Gorge.

As the last of the delegations left the room, Undite looked to her two friends next to her. "Could you..." she said, looking to Velin, "...Could you open a portal to the church in Caraborough? I need to speak with Sister Ratka."

Velin looked slowly to her, raising an eyebrow. "Do you need me to come with you?" she asked, to which Undite gently shook her head. "No, no...I just need to have a chat with her. It won't take too long...perhaps an hour or two. Then you can come and get me." replied Undite, with a smile.

Velin Looked at her for a few moments, before nodding. "...Alright. I'll make sure that Cassiel keeps an eye on you from afar, though." she said, cutting a look to Cassiel who nodded. They both stood from their chairs, and soon Velin opened a portal which lead into the church on the isle of Caraborough.

Undite smiled again, looking to Velin. "...I want you to talk to him. Please." she said softly, before stepping through the portal. It shut behind her, leaving Velin staring off into space. She then felt a hand touch hers. The skin was rough, but the touch was gentle. She looked back, snapping out of her trance, to see Adona standing there. Smiling at her.

Velin looked upon his weathered face for a few moments, before smiling back.

 

[K0mori]

The gallery began to stand and shuffle towards the exits as the first day of the summit ended without any further shocking twists. Among them, Josephine and Sabine Fallensteller, who both appeared as if they had just spent the day counting blades of grass. Sabine in particular had almost fallen asleep by the end, after the novelty of seeing the gods and the supernatural creatures had worn off on the child and she now found herself mired in a world of politics she didn't quite understand. Unlike most of the adults in the room, the oddities of the past three years had become normalized, as they occupied the backdrop of nearly half her life's memories. She had expected her father to speak when Mr. Fowler had finished, even though her parents had made it perfectly clear, more than once, that he was only there to provide assistance to the AUK delegation and that he was not to speak for them.

And so she yawned, taking her mother's hand as they moved through the crowd. Sabine had managed to entertain herself until the end of the day by imagining herself as part of each of the delegations, in all their fancy outfits and speaking in their funny accents. None of them captivated her more than the Nocturne vampires, however; their surreal sense of fashion and uncanny beauty struck her as rather fantastic and alluring. She wanted to be among them, but was far too young to understand the implications of eternal youth. She could only see the superficial glamor, if one could call it that. Certainly not all would.

After leaving the gallery, the people were funneled into a large staircase which rounded a corner into one of the building's lobbies. Josephine guided Sabine away from the crowd, which was becoming agitated and impatient as they tried to exit the building, and stood off in a corner so that they could wait for Albrecht to join them. Finally, the man stepped out of one of the doors connecting to the meeting hall along with several union members, flanked on either side by armed guards to ensure that no one would try to rush through the opening toward the dwindling delegations within, whom had been guided to a different exit on the other side of the building.

"We've got the restitution!" Albrecht declared proudly. "The church has agreed to pay AUK three-fourths of their salaries for the strike period. Herr Fowler is about to send word back by telegram."

Despite her tiredness, Josephine smiled broadly. "Ah, wunderbar! I suppose they'll go back to work now."

Mr. Fowler, who had just finished yet another round of handshakes, turned to the Fallenstellers. "Ja, that's right. We only lost a handful during the whole operation, and even then they didn't go back to that devilish work... I estimate we'll be back to full production in... five days, no more."

"That's good for both of us," Albrecht added. "Well, you two, now that our pocketbooks are safe, how about we head back to the hotel and have a nice dinner? They won't need me here tomorrow, so we can finally explore the town. That is, if you're up to it," he teased.

Sabine smiled for the first time since seeing her father, but then quickly frowned again. She badly wanted to explore Redgorge, but not if she were to be dragged around by the wrist by her two parents. There was plenty to see here, and plenty of neat things to buy, but their fear of anything less than ubiquity would prevent her from seeing anything truly strange or novel. Still, unless the opportunity presented itself, this would be her only chance. She nodded, somberly. "Ja, Papa."

Hours later, back at the hotel room, Sabine lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling. What a waste, she thought. Vati brings us here to "witness history," and all I get is days trapped in this stuffy hotel room, some boring speeches, and a guided tour of Redgorge's most normal places.

She kicked her feet up and down in boredom on the fluffy comforter, as it was too hot to sleep underneath it. What did she want so badly out of this trip? What did she want so badly in general? It was hard to say. She wanted to be taken seriously by everyone, and yet she also wanted to be entertained. She was rich, and she knew she would rather be a rich girl than a poor girl. But at the same time, the poor kids seemed to have just as much fun as she did, if not more. They could often go where she couldn't- not a cave on some secluded property, which, while she appreciated having it, didn't serve up the same excitement as a trip downtown, among people she didn't know, sights she hadn't seen...

What good was wealth if you couldn't use it? She glanced over to the other bed in their room, where her parents were sleeping soundly. Even after all these years, she barely felt any love for them. In fact, she felt nothing for her adoptive mother whatsoever. She didn't cook or clean; the staff did that. She also didn't launder clothing or even tutor her own daughter. Sabine saw her as a sort of tyrannical fixture in the house, existing only to control her daughter's behavior and temper her desires. Often, Albrecht would agree to purchase Sabine some new toy, or dress, or other thing that she wanted only for Josephine to remind him not to spoil her. Sabine stared hatefully at her in the dark. But then, beyond the two sleeping adults was a window, and, without a reason, Sabine found herself drawn to it.

She tip-toed to the glass and looked down at the city streets, and found that they were still crowded. It was not so out of control, like it was during the day. She could actually picture herself walking among the anonymous visitors without brushing against them, staining her clothing with grime and the sweat of others. Backing away, she decided that this was a perfect night to defy them, and act like an urchin would. Carefully, she slipped into the least elaborate of her dresses that she brought along on this trip, put on her shoes, and gently slipped out the door, careful not to let the gaslights in the hall from shining on her sleeping guardians. As the latch clicked, she grinned.

Outside, on a corner, Dorothy Cooper watched the darkened window of the Fallenstellers' hotel room and returned the smile.

 

[Infab]

"Rachel, David. A pleasure to see the two of ya again. And at the same time, no less. How long has it been?" The stocky man behind the short bar, dressed in fine slacks with a silky white shirt and dull grey vest, set a pair of rather elegant glasses on the bartop for the two incoming acquaintances. The man spoke first, adjusting his tie and peering down at the glass before him. "November 25th, 1714. We spoke at length on the rum trade whilst Captain Benjamin 'Black Heart' Travers and Captain Régine Devereaux tried to outdrink one another. If I recall correctly, Captain Devereaux won."

The barman nodded, glancing to David. "Aye. Never seen ol' Black Heart so mortified. The man thought he had a bottomless pit for a stomach. He's a withered wretch of a man now, spending his days in solitude out on Horsehead Isle. Dwelling on the past, I imagine." he said, before turning around to face the wall of bottles behind him. Each a different shade of red and exquisitely crafted, the glass rich with engravings and markings. He searched through the bottles, eyeing each individually, before choosing one in particular on the shelf above his head.

He then turned about, looking to the woman as she spoke. "Everyone dwells on the past, Nathaniel. We vampires just do it a bit more thoroughly than others...That might explain some of the bouts of depression and madness that pops up among our race." said Rachel, the last sentence bearing a touch of melancholy. She then softly sighed. "But regardless...I think the last time we met was during the Winter of 1841. You caitered the wedding of Lady Lilith Karnstein to Klaus Wölfflin....It was such a beautiful event, don't you agree?"

Nathaniel nodded, smiling as he uncorked the bottle and poured some of red contents into their glasses. "It was a true honor to be part of such a momentous occassion. Even as a lesser member of House Visconti, the status of House Karnstein is not lost on me." he stated as he poured, before straightening up. "Please, enjoy yourselves. If you require anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. Master Tipton would tear my throat out himself if I did anything to embarass him in front of an elder house. Especially a member of House Karnstein."

David chuckled. "Don't worry, Nathaniel. You're fine." he said with a smile, before sampling the contents of his glass. After a long sip, he raised an eyebrow. "Exceptional. One of the Desrosiers...vintage, too. I do wonder if she was of the Bellegarde lineage? The woman had a true talent." he said, swirling the liquid around in his glass before looking to Rachel. Rachel cut him a look. "You're just saying that because you want another fine artisan's masterworks under the House of Polidori. Can't claim them all, David..." she said, to which David simply smiled.

The sounds of soft piano music filled the corner club, as vampiric patrons of various walks of life moved about. A haze of cigar and cigarette smoke hung in the air, obscuring the view of the beautifully decorated ceiling above...and most of the patrons on the second floor of the establishment. In the back corner of the room, on the other side of the occupied piano, a group of more casually dressed men and women were engaged in a plesant game of billiards. Most of them were members of the lower, servant houses: bloodlines which fell under the Law of Blood Oaths, binding them to one of the larger (and older) houses. In fact, several servant house members were scattered around the building. Mingling with others. Providing a buffer for the true important people in the room.

"So, did Le Rouge ever actually show up at the Summit? I don't think I saw them at all." stated Rachel, glancing to David again before sipping from her glass. David shook his head in response. "I didn't see them. Perhaps they decided not to come, or decided it wasn't exciting enough for their dark little minds." he said, his voice trailing off at the end. They both, however, noticed a swift hushing of voices nearby. Rachel knew exactly what it was the moment she noticed it. "Well now, speak of the devil..." she muttered.

 

[K0mori]

A pair of vampires had entered the room, their physiques and personalities opposite from first glance. The first of the two was low and slouched, her reddish hair short and tied back in a businesslike style. An old fur coat hung over her like a drape, obscuring her arms as she shuffled along in apparent misery. Her hawkish features gave her face the appearance of canvas pulled tight over a wooden frame, and her fangs were like daggers threatening everyone in the room. Aside her, the other vampire was tall and thin, but as healthy as an ordinary vampire could appear. His features were soft and handsome, and his unkempt black hair fell tastefully over his shoulders. His suit was crisp and flawless, and he wore a ribbon tie- popular in this region of Atraca. He didn't walk so much as stride up to the bar.

"David, Rachel," the slick man started with a smile that wasn't quite returned by his peers, although Nathaniel seemed amused enough to crack a sarcastic one of his own. "Luc couldn't make it this time, so he sent us. He had some important business to attend to."

Nathaniel interjected, "more important than this?"

"He's probably cleaning house," David remarked. From the subtle chuckle given off by the newcomer, David knew his guess was correct. Lucius le Rouge was busy killing off a few of his own associates to keep control of his turbulent house. Le Rouge was never totally stable, a price paid when their admissions policy was to turn anything they could pierce with their fangs into a new family member. "So, you've earned his trust, Sylvain? Or is Cosmina here to mind you?"

The squat woman spoke up, gruffly. "I can speak for myself, David. And no, trust is not the right word, but I am not his keeper, either."

"So, are you two just arriving?" Rachel reluctantly asked, accepting the unwanted company for the time being. "We didn't see you at the Summit."

Sylvain sat himself on a barstool and requested a drink of his own while Cosmina continued to stand and eye the other patrons with suspicion. They had long returned to their conversations and disregarded her, but she seemed unable to let her guard down. There was a clink as Sylvain set his glass down on the bar top, having slurped down his entire drink in one go. "We chartered a stagecoach," he explained after dabbing his lips dry with a napkin, "and the driver was slow. That's all there really is to say about it. Maybe we stopped a few times along the way, but who's to say how much we were delayed?"

"A day," Nathaniel jokingly answered the rhetorical. "You missed a whole day of the Summit."

"Not according to the telegram I just sent out," Sylvain said, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a newspaper extra he had purchased on his way into town, containing the broad strokes of the day's activities: just enough information to fill out a telegram and sound convincing.

 

[Infab]

David raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Rachel as he sipped from his own glass. Taking the easy route, as always. He set the glass aside as he finished, before returning his attention to Sylvain. "Well, do you plan on attending the rest of the Summit? Or lurking around town, snatching up others to add to Lucian's grand collection of ne'er-do-wells while you send him more snippets of newspaper articles?"

Sylvain smiled. "As tantalizing as the latter sounds, I'll be tending to my proper duties here. An alien concept to you, I'm sure, who's often persuing other endeavors while representing the Polidori." He then looked to Rachel. "I wonder how many times he's brought up that rather lovely dress you're wearing. Or how the other women wandering about are dressed. Has he had his picture taken yet? Or has he bought any paintings, or tasted any of the fine beverages?...Has he tried to fu--"

Rachel cut him off, as it was visibly clear David was about to snap at the vampire. "He has been a gentleman, Sylvain. Unlike yourself, or anyone from Le Rouge." she stated, frowning at Sylvain herself.

Sylvain grinned, before speaking again. "Ah, forgive me. Forgot I was in the presence of a Karnstein. Regal, proper...domesticated." he said, a hint of malice staining the final word. "Tabitha Lovelace had the right idea when she decided to leave. Can't say I'm a fan of what her descendants did after she kissed the sun, though..."

He smiled again afterwards, before looking to David again. "So how are the twins Polidori? Leopold and Jocelyne still doing that weird twin thing? Where they act like they're one individual? Always found that kind of creepy..." Nathaniel finally spoke up from behind the bar, as he took the glasses that had been set down to clean. "Settle down, Sylvain. I'd rather keep things calm here...We don't need soldiers, hunters, or the Church barging in here because you decided to act like a jackass."

 

[K0mori]

"Right..." Sylvain conceded, pulling some money out to pay for his drink, plus another. Nathaniel glanced to Cosmina, but she shook her head. The second drink was also for Sylvain. "As much as I'd love to keep picking on you two, I do still have some tasks to attend to. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome, now would I?" he added sarcastically.

"I'm sure they'd have let you know if you had," Cosmina added, equally sarcastic. "That is, unless they're frightened of my swift attacks..." she said, whipping a butterfly knife out of her pocket and twirling it around her fingers. Cosmina still hadn't smiled once, but it was obvious she had a sense of humor. The purebloods stared only a moment at the silver-coated blade before they understood the joke, and even cracked a begrudging smile, which the ghoulish-looking woman returned with a sneering curled lip. House Le Rouge had sent her as a sort of bodyguard for Sylvain, but she would be utterly useless against one pureblood, let alone two, and her act had served to humble them both.

David even held up his hands. "No please, I'm too young to die," he replied flatly as Cosmina slipped the knife back into her pocket. David's smile grew wider as he noticed the dejected look on Sylvain's face as the latter snatched up his second drink.

"Chin up," Rachel quietly mocked him. "I'm sure whatever errands Luc sent you on, you'll find a way to not to embarrass yourself. But... don't forget your place, either."

At the last comment, Sylvain glared a moment before a smirk returned to his lips. "Good point. Next time, I'll find a Morgan to drink with and we'll get howling-mad drunk. And then maybe I'll find a place next to a Ruthven and we'll talk all night. This place is too expensive, anyway... too rich for my blood," he clarified to Nathaniel almost hatefully, but the bartender only returned him a tired glance. Sylvain finished his drink and stood, wiping his lips one more time before walking off without a goodbye. Cosmina initially followed him, but he turned to her at the exit and the two exchanged some words. Cosmina shrugged, and then shuffled back to the bar to take his place.

"Is he that petty that he'd really send you away over a joke?" David asked.

Cosmina ordered her drink and then answered, in her hissing, dark voice, "he says he needs to have a private meeting with someone, pass along an important secret." She took a sip of her drink, very slowly and carefully as if to savor every drop. "So, yes. He's pissed about that joke," she finally said. "...Crybaby..."

 

[Infab]

"indeed." stated Rachel, "But it seems he's a crybaby that Luc seems to trust somewhat. Otherwise he'd be among the casualties." David shrugged, glancing to Rachel before returning his gaze to Cosmina. "I'm sorry you have to bear the company of such an individual. At least you're in far better company now." he said, glancing off in the direction that Sylvain had gone.

Rachel chuckled. "Well, I don't know how long that's going to last. There's a Morgan approaching." she said softly, motioning a finger over towards someone approaching the bar from David's side. It was one of the other purebloods that the pair had seen at the summit, dressed more casually with a buttoned-up shirt and slacks with suspenders. Now that he wasn't wearing a bowler hat, they could see that the sides of his head were buzzed down with the brown hair atop his head cut short and slicked back with pomade. His beard was of medium length, trimmed well and sporting a mustache with short points that jutted off either side of his face. His build was a bit muscular, his large forearms bearing a few tattoos visible just under where his sleeves had been rolled up to.

He glanced to the trio of vampires, cocking an eyebrow as he looked at Cosmina. "A Polidori and a Karnstein talkin' to a Le Rouge? Bit surprisin', innit? Them bein' one of those real 'undesirable' types." he said, his heavy central Atracan accent barely understandable. He tapped on the bar counter, and Nathaniel quickly got to work. Instead of a fine red drink in a crystal glass, he was given a brown bottle, with a red label slapped onto the side.

David smirked, then responded. "And now a Morgan is in the mix."

The man let out a short chuckle. "Yeh. Strange times." he responded, before taking a drink from the brown bottle. Afterwards, he glanced to Cosmina again. "I'm Jasper. One o' Elijah Morgan's lot. Don' worry, I ain't one of 'em barmy types. 'ad a bit o' luck." he stated.

 

[K0mori]

Cosmina eyed Jasper with a suspicious glance before taking another long, careful sip of her drink. "My name is Cosmina," she replied. "I come from Tsavania, although I call Atraca my home, now... whatever that means. Anymore, I think of shipping off to Nocturne, but my resources are a bit... thin."

"That island is a bit of a powder keg, isn't it?" Rachel remarked. "Tsavania wants to burn it down, the other nations want to smother it... And that Archbishop, Aleister Germain- I've heard that he doesn't belong to any of the Major Houses. Someone mentioned a House 'Saville,' but I have no earthly idea what that means."

"Aye, I know of 'em," Jasper replied. "They come from us, inna roundabout sorta way. From us, through Ravenhearst, ya get yer Savilles. Unlucky lot they are- purges got most of 'em."

David sighed. "Show me a House that was 'lucky' during the past few years," he grumbled. "I think Le Rouge is the only house that gained members by the time it was all over."

"So the rumor goes," Cosmina replied, bitterly. "It's impossible to truly know."

---
​

Out in the streets, Sylvain skulked along looking for some better company. It was difficult to find vampire-owned establishments in any major town that weren't crawling with members of more prestigious houses. The hierarchy would normally fly over the heads of the ordinary vampire unless they were well-connected, but for someone who actually runs errands for one of the most powerful purebloods on the continent, Sylvain found himself constantly belittled both for his bloodline and for his status as an ordinary vampire. Perhaps he'd return to the bar in the small hours of the morning, when those purebloods would turn in to sleep like the humans did, and he could drink with Cosmina and whoever else was left. But he also didn't have the sort of money that they did.

Rounding a corner, he looked at the sorts of people who remained alert in the darkness, barely illuminated by the gas lamps. Of course it was no problem to him, with his enhanced sight he was able to read their features like a book. Drunkards, lost tourists, conmen, wanton teenagers... and off on her own, walking slowly and with a head swiveling about on her neck, was a little girl. It wasn't unusual to see unaccompanied children in the city, but they were usually urchins. This girl was dressed nicely, expensively. And her features were Redonian, so unusual. And it was so late... the feral children in other cities would normally sleep at this hour.

Sylvain placed his hands in his pockets and strolled along, trying not to frighten her with his approach. For once, his stalking wasn't motivated by a desire to turn someone, his constant task wherever he went, despite his reluctance to admit it back at the bar, but instead it was just plain curiosity that moved him towards her. At about ten paces away, she turned and glanced at him, and he paused mid-step. They both paused. Staring each other down for a moment, Sylvain spoke first. "What is a rich girl like you doing outside at this hour?" he said, smoothly. "You know, there are dangerous people around. You shouldn't walk alone."

"You're a vampire, aren't you?" Sabine replied, squinting in the dim light. "I can't see your teeth, but you're very pale."

Sylvain stepped forward to allow her a better look, but she stepped back. He let out a mild laugh. "Girl, if I wanted to catch you, you know I could, and it would be easy. I'm just out for a walk." He then took several steps, until the two were under the same streetlamp and Sabine could finally see him clearly. "Yes, I'm a vampire. My name is Sylvain. There's quite a few of us in this town right now."

"I- I've seen them," Sabine said, standing as straight as she could, trying to avoid revealing how genuinely terrified she was. "I was at the summit... Are you from Nocturne?"

Sylvain shook his head and smiled. "No, I'm from Dorchester. I was supposed to be at the summit, too, but I didn't get here in time. Not all of us moved away to Nocturne, you see. We still have business here in Adonia."

"What sort of businesses do vampires run?" Sabine asked with a furrowed brow, her fear having dissipated somewhat.

"Oh, we do lots of things, at least as many as humans do..." Sylvain replied, vaguely. "I suppose you could call me a reporter, or even... a recruiter. And now, I feel it's time you told me your name, and what your family was doing at the summit."

Sabine's eyes went wide and she barely processed the question Sylvain was asking her. All her life, she had wished for something more, some excitement and power beyond the reaches of others, even other rich girls and boys. She now understood what she was truly looking for on this night: she wanted to experience the supernatural firsthand, to get close to the creatures of the night and know of their ways. But... did she want to become something inhuman? She had imagined it before, but never truly and seriously contemplated it. She might as well have imagined herself becoming a tortoise, it was such an outlandish thought. Finally, she realized that she hadn't answered. "My name is Sabine. My father is Albrecht Fallensteller. He came with the Daristeinians."

"Ah, so he's an alchemist?" Sylvain asked.

Sabine shook her head. "...No, he just gives them lots of money for things."

Sylvain's smile faded a moment as he blinked in mild disbelief. Such a reckless thing to admit... "He's an investor, then," he corrected, his false smile returning. "How I wish I could make money by funding the work of others. It sounds like such an easy life. You are very, very lucky," he asserted, and the slightest hint of resentment punctuated the words.

"That's what everyone thinks," Sabine replied, surprising Sylvain with some bitterness of her own. "It's boring. I'm just like other children, but somehow I have less fun and more rules to follow. That's why I suck out tonight," she explained, twirling a bit with her arms outstretched. "There's no rules outside at night," she said with the unwarranted confidence of a child.

"Is that so?" Sylvain began to wonder whether there was some way he could turn this situation into a profitable encounter. A lesser man, a thug, might consider kidnapping her, but he knew that despite his own reputation, he wasn't so low. Perhaps he could walk the girl back to her hotel and then extract some kind of reward from her rich parents. "I suppose you're right, to an extent. But we vampires have our own rules, and when you're in our company, you'll need to do what we say."

Sabine shook her head. "I'm not in 'your company,' you're in mine, Herr Sylvain. And I want to see the city!"

Sylvain sighed. Innocent company was hard to come by. Perhaps he'd just walk along and protect the little idiot, and worry about money later.