LibriumArcana.Games

February 12, 1230 AD.

Deep in the underworld that sat below the bustle of Genoan nightlife, a solitary man sat with only the light of a single candle to give him light. It was more than enough light to allow him to count the hairs of the cat he had just opened from throat to groin.

"No. Shut up, I would listen to the barbarians calls to their spear-god or the fools placations to their christ-god before I would listen to you. So be silent." There was no response to this.

"I said silence!" The room itself shook from the power of the voice. "That is better."

The man leaned over closer to examine the spilt blood and offal of the black cat he had killed. "The heart is small, a vampire moves. But which?" He looked around more. "Ah, Milan strikes out again. But how far how far?" He looked around more, and then with a yell was up on his feet, flipping the table he had been using and spilling the body and it's contents across the small room. Without another word the man fled the room, heading up towards the cool winter air of Genoa above him and the court of the Prince.

Lydia Nikolakis, daughter of a noble house that had seen Constantinople rise from Western Outpost to jewel of the Eastern Roman Empire, looked through the glazed window into the streets of Genoa and frowned, her grey eyes stormy.

Her temporary home was a well-apportioned house in a good section of the Italian merchantile city, one that her Sire had used briefly then vacated without a word. Lydia had found no clue as to where her Sire had gone next, thus she had decided to stay until she might get word from her siblings.

That is, if Natalya Svyatoslva had contacted any of them. With a sigh, Lydia turned away from the window and gestured to one of her mortal maids to aid her in dressing in the white linen tunica, undergarment of all Byzantines, with its brightly patterned floral stripes that ran shoulder to hem on front and back and down the tops of the tight-fitted sleeves.

The triangular dalamatica next, raw silk in it's natural color fitted to her bodice and decorated with tapestry-woven ribbons along the hem and bell-shaped sleeves, allowing the sleeves of the white tunica to show. The grape-leaf design on the ribbons was picked out with pearls and malachite chips, a few of the grape-bundles accented with small rounded amethysts. Large square patches on the shoulders deplicted Dyonisys pouring wine, again picked out with small gemstones to accent the design.

Finally, the overgarment of all Roman women, the stola. Once a loose square of material that would be belted close in the Roman style, Lydia's stola was now a loose triangle-shape with short bell-sleeves that allowed the opulence of the undergarments to show. Made of green-dyed brocaded linen, silver and gold squares decorated the sleeves and hem, polished mirror-bright to shine in the candle-light. More semi-precious stones followed the woven brocade, making the vine pattern stand out even more.

Even her belt was fanciful, a card-woven tapestry of fantastic beasts nearly as wide as her thumb, studded with silver and gold roundels, the ends with tassels that fell to the beaded leather of her pointed shoes, all but hidden under the long drape of her dresses.

It was opulent, even gaudy by the standards of the Italians, yet were she in fallen Constantinople, Lydia's garments would show her status to all as a lesser noble. No bright reds or yellows, gold or black dyes did she wear; no polished diamonds from the far reaches of Hind, nor the smoothly carved jade of Cathay were sown upon the clavi and segmentae, the stripes and patches that decorated her otherwise plain garments.

Once garbed, Lydia sat while the skilled hands of the maid braided her long jet-black hair, weaving it with ribbons into a coronet about her head, loops of braid just touching the neckline of her tunica and small artfully-curled bangs encircling her face. Atop the braided hair, a brimless cap of stiffened linen was sat, once again gaudily beaded and set with mirrored chips, strings of malachite, fresh-water pearls, and amethysts attached to it to dangle and frame her face.

A finely woven wool semi-circluar cloak, the edges bedecked with tapestry trim and huge half-roundels of knotted cord, and Lydia Nikolakis, Chylde of the Autokrator of the Lexor Brujah of Constantinople, was ready to leave her haven and attend upon the Prince of Genoa.

A solitary figure descended from the hills. Below him stretched the shore of the Mediterranean Sea and the city of Genoa. There, if the rumor he had heard were correct, he might find a way to make his fortune. If he did not have other, more pressing concerns, he would have ventured down and begun exploring the city.

But shelter first. He needed to find a place to shelter during the day, one suitable for a vampire with far too few coins in his purse. A cave or a den or a ruin of some sort. Finding one would take time.

Fortunately he could find help. The children of the night would heed his voice and be inclined to render aid. He called upon the beasts of field, forest, air, and mountain as he found them, calling them to him and speaking to them of the secret places they knew that could shelter him from the merciless sun.

The room was dark, pitch black. The man stood chained to the wall, his arms shackled behind his back and chained to a metal loop. He had spent four days in this cell, with no food, little water and no sensory input. He had no idea what time of day or night it was. Water was brought to him during the periods he fell into a fitful sleep, before his own slumping and the wrenching pain in his shoulders from his own weight trying to rip his arms out of their sockets woke him up.

Finally a sound! Maybe someone had come to free, or rescue him. Footsteps came closer and closer to the door then the door opened and masked man dressed in black walked into the door and placed a torch into a sconce on the wall. Then a second man, also masked but dressed in much finer black robes entered the room.

The man in charge stood in the back while the other man came over and released the chains.

"Thank God!" said the man right before he was belted across the face by the man who had just released him, and dragged bodily over to a Rack he had not seen before.

The man wimpered in terror

"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked pitifully as he was strapped into the contraption.

"Because you have been a very bad person" the man in charge said in accented Italian. "You have not confessed in some time, and have committed many sins. Now you will confess to me"

....

Karpaty was greeted by birds first, the seagulls were of little use, a pair of hawks led the vampire to an old ruined shack, the door had been torn from it's hinges, and one wooden wall had collapsed in the intervening years that it had been vacated. The thatch roof too was mostly destroyed. One chair still sat upright at where a table had once been, the table was cracked in half and missing a few legs. A few more chairs lay scattered across the floor. The fireplace remained intact, with one pot left on the ground next to it, a large crack running down one side. Whatever had served as a bed was long gone, but a little searching led to the discovery of a small cellar. It was large enough to hold him, and had once had a trap door that had also been ripped off and flung aside. With some work, it would serve as a suitable haven for the night.

Konstantin went to work. Securing his place of rest was of primary importance. Replacing the trap door and a method of securing it from below, probably with some kind of bar, became the first priority. Fortunately, while other vampires had night vision that was superior to that of humans, Konstantin's sight far exceeded that of the ordinary vampire. He began gathering useful material and improvised tools.

The wind rushed by his face, a welcome and constant side-effect of this method of travel.

He could have traveled by horse, but that would mean a horse must be maintained. Instead, the rotes of the ancient sorcery Run as the Desert Wind Rushes sustained his strides, causing him to move at the rate of a galloping horse across the landscape.

He had been traveling with one stop per night at this rate now for five days. Tomorrow night, he would reach his destination: Genoa.

There were three others of his clan there - Selim, Karaja, and Orhan - and he was to make contact with them, both to politely announce himself, but also because he was to be working sometimes with the others of Haqim's bloodline. Though there were reportedly no other sorcerers of Haqim's line there, one was there of the vizier caste - Karaja - and two warriors as well. Indeed, this promised to be an interesting assignment.

Brushing past a surprised and startled deer, Aziz kept running. He saw a town in the distance; it would do as a rest stop to drink his fill amongst a few of the people here, and disappear once more into the night. He smiled - there was always at least one who liked picking on the one with dark skin.

His already sand-tanned skin had become smoother, and darker over the years since he had truly joined the ranks of Haqim's children, and would continue to do so over the years. It was the mark of having Haqim as his blood ancestor, and he wore it proudly.

His strides ate up the distance between here and the town ahead. Soon...

Ottar Thorfinnsson is a large man, a little over 6 feet tall and built to match, and he moves with an easy animalistic grace. His hair is wild, knotted and long, it has not been cleaned in a while and his clothing is rough and practical. Thick, coarse cloth and cured leather cover his form. His hands are covered in a thick, dark fur as a bear's and currently end in claws, again, much as a bear's.

His one eye glows with an angry red hue as he stalks through the night outside the city limits looking for prey. He could call to them, bring them closer, but that would not be sporting. His belly was full enough anyway, this was simply fun. He would give this night's hunt to honor Valföðr as was fitting.

There was little in the way of metal to be found, an iron poker had been left in the fireplace, there were however several sturdy pieces of wood that might serve the purpose as well. In the cellar, the distinct smell of spices still lingered, easy to detect with Konstantin's astute nose. It also looked as though it had once held several large trunks, but whatever had been here was long gone.

____________________

A few minutes after Lydia was dressed, her retainer entered, a messenger from the Prince had been here briefly, stating that her attendance at Court was requested. When the messenger had been further pushed for answers he had said that the Seer had seen something important.

Rocks made adequate hammers if one was strong enough and Konstantin certainly was. Nails or other fasteners were a key issue. He hunted through the debris and the ruined door looking for them.

Lydia thanked the messenger and let him go about his business. She would not be the only one he'd visit this night, she knew.

Drawing her cloak about her, she called for one of her manservants to bring a torch. No lady of measure would walk about on a night like this without a servant, even if she did not truly need the lamplight to see in the darkened streets. Still, it was a symbol of her status to have a servant walking with her, a lantern on a pole to light her way through the streets. Once there, she would either send him back, or have him wait outside for her.

Pulling her cloak about her, Lydia went out into the night to attend Court and hear what the Seer had seen.

It took a bit of searching, but several nails in decent repair were found. The hinges that were still on the door were also intact and would be easy to put on the trap door. The trap door itself still had it's latch, it was bent but it wouldn't be difficult for one of Caine's brood to repair it.

_________________________

Ottar's hunting led him to the top of a hill, as he crouched low and looked over, the son of Odin could see a doe and her fawn carefully grazing. They were downwind at the moment, but the lack of cover and great distance meant the catch would not be easy from here. Luckily, the deer and her fawn were in a small valley surrounded on three sides by hills, so Ottar could try wrapping around to see if he could get closer.

The trap door went back in with scavenged hinges. It was upside down, of course so Konstantin could secure the latch from the inside. That took some more work with nails, knife, wood, and improvised hammers but he was able to fix the holders for the latch bars on the inside of the cellar. He had a somewhat secure resting place.

The work had taken hours, but that still left him plenty of time to start learning the lay of the land. The Tzimisce mounted his steed with a smile. The city awaited.

Florien's work was interrupted by one of his guards, who informed him that a messenger had arrived from the Prince, and that his presence was demanded at her court this night.

The vampire sighed loudly "Alright Juergen I will attend upon the court." he said to his guard in german.

"Niehuis, keep him warmed up until I get back. Just a bit of tension, not enough to dislocate his shoulders"

With that he exited the room and went up through the cellar of his Manse to the ground floor where his wardrobe was.

Within a few minutes he was clad in finest priestly robes and motioned for his two guards to follow him as he exited.

Walking the streets of Genoa was no problem for Lydia and her servant. Her domain lay in the richer and nicer part of town, where the town guard could be trusted to watch out for thieves and brigands, though a bribe could get rid of them just as easily. The high stone and wood walls that rose on either side of the Brujah and her servant were a sign of things to come. Even the untrained eye could tell that these walls were meant to keep heat in and save on cost while still looking nice over offering protection. While Genoa was a city of war, war was something generally waged on a battlefield far away.

Lydia's walk led her into an even richer part of the town, before she finally came to a stop infront of a very old building, built during the days of Charlemagne. It had been renovated since then, and a third story had been added, but it was still a building which radiated power and prestige. One of Maria's retainers stood waiting outside, as Lydia and her servant approached, the man bowed low and stepped away from the door. "Her majesty, the prince, is expecting you Lady Nikolakis." The name was still clearly not entirely familiar to the servant as he paused before saying it. "I must apologize that I am unable to escort you to see the Mistress, but I have been ordered to stay here and greet all of those whom the Mistress has called."

"That is fine, Augustus," Lydia answered. "I know the way." The young vampiress half-turned to glance at her servant out of smoky grey eyes. "Alec, return to the house. Inform Marcus I shall not need you again this night."

As the young man bowed and began to retreat, Lydia walked through the door Augustus held open for her and strode confidently within, walking through the well-appointed manor to the main hall where the Prince held large meetings of her Court.

Lydia thought she might even have a chance to speak with Virgil, the city's seneschal, before the full Court gathered.

The main hall was technically on the first floor of the building, but the vaulted ceiling that raised up to the roof made such distinctions small. Polished stone and marble made up the interior walls and occasional pillars, the deep gray of the granite stone being contrasted well by the white of marble. There was only one window in the hall, and even that seemed to be a surprise to most kindred who entered. It ran the height of the back wall and was filled with beautiful stain-glass depictions from the book of Genesis. At the top of the window sat the light of God, working it's way down to create the world, and then the animals, and finally man and his fall from grace. At the very bottom of the relief lay Caine, his head hung in shame after being cursed by God. Several candles had been hung on the outside of the window so as to light the picture.

On the walls hung several tapestries. Several of them had been brought here long ago from byzantium, newer tapestries came from France, and several paintings from Genoa itself also graced the walls. The smooth stone floor itself was covered mainly by a rug that had been made in Granada.

Just infront of the stained-glass window were a series of three steps, upon which sat a high-backed chair built of oak with gold and silver inlays with red velvet cover. Sitting majestically upon her throne was Maria Chelebi. Her noble features were striking, and the fine jewels which hung from her neck and wrists accentuated her beauty as well as her indigo dress did. She was leaning on her right arm rest at the moment, conferring with a stooped old looking figure that was covered in a cloak, chances were high that the figure was Demosthenes. To her left stood Alfred of Hamburg, already clad in armor and looking particularly perturbed at the moment.

Konstantin had little difficulty getting into the city. The guards at the gate he entered through were amiable towards him and asked only the necessary questions. Inside the walls of Genoa was a sight entirely unfamiliar to the Tzimisce. The wide streets were busy even at this late hour, and the structure of the buildings was entirely different. The feeling Konstantin got within minutes of entering was that this was a place where people who would normally be his lesser would be seen as his equal. These people did not fear the night like the peasants of the Carpathians. The architecture was also entirely different, seemingly built more for commercial profit and for ease on the eye than for defense. The market was winding down now and many stores were closed but Konstantin spotted one blacksmith's shop whose doors were closed for the night. Further exploring led Konstantin into the rattier parts of the town where the more unsavory, and less likely to be missed, people gathered.

As always, Lydia felt the need to stop and regard the huge stained glass window with a touch of awe. It was magnificent, a work of religious art that drew her as surely as any icon of the church. The flickering candles that backlit the window gave the scenes an illusion of movement and shadow, bringing the ancient story to glorious life.

After a mere moment, Lydia continued into the marbled hall, the leather soles of her shoes making little sound on the woven rug. As she walked forward, Lydia was surprised to see that she was seemingly the first to arrive. It was odd, but she continued forward towards the dias, stopping five feet from the bottom step. There, the grecian beauty dropped into a respectful curtsey to Her Highness.

Were she not the only one in the room, Lydia would have held the curtsey for a long moment, then backed away respectfully, honor paid to the Prince without disturbing Her Highness further. The emptiness of the hall -- even the Seneschal not in attendance? -- made Lydia hesitate, holding her curtsey longer.

Florien traveled through the darkened streets of genoa flanked on either side by his mailed heavily armed retainers. He could practically feel the vice and sin permeating the air. Or was that the stench? Florien supposed it could just as easily be the stench.

He mused on his former life, and how when he still drew breath he might have spurned an invitation from secular nobility that interrupted his work. Now he knew his place.

"Thank you Lord for teaching me humility" he muttered to himself. He left unspoken that he would have preferred learning the lesson before he was eternally damned to hell, but it was Gods will that he learn it at the appointed time.

He finally got to the large building that housed the Court.

"Hello Augustus. I have been summoned?"

Alfred's eyes were on Lydia her whole trek down the rug. The Ventrue had little love for the Greek, who had been accepted so readily by the Prince. But it was little secret that many of the things the Prince did were unapproved of by her Sheriff.

Maria herself didn't seem to notice Lydia as she curtsied but after a moment the high-born Lasombra turned her head and smiled to Lydia, nodding to her in acknowledgment of her presence. "It is good to see that you have arrived so swiftly, Lady Nikolakis. I am sorry that there is no entertainment for you at the moment, as this meeting has been called in such haste." She looked over to Alfred with a smirk. "Perhaps Sir Alfred would be kind enough to keep you company."

Before the irate Ventrue could respond, the room grew icily chill for a few moments and a soundless scream filled the air. The room seemed as though it had been plunged into some other horrible realm for a split second and then it was gone again. From the shadows stepped two figures. Virgil Contarini on the left was well dressed, if quickly dressed. The young vampire had been turned somewhere in his early twenties and while he was not stunning the youth of his face added much. He looked to Lydia and smiled briefly before he moved towards Maria.

The other figure was leaning heavily on a solid black cane. He was a middle-aged man, poorly dressed for court and it did not seem like he cared overly much. Just looking at him however sent a shiver down most of the vampires assembled spines. His skin was a darkened hue, which would suggest either having been a Moor in life, or being of the clan of the Assamite, but neither was the case. He was Vannius Clausus Secundus, an Abyss mystic of some power. More than even the ancient Demosthenes, Vannius felt wrong, as though he did not belong in this world. His dark eyes had seen something beyond the veil that should not have been seen by any eyes that had once been mortal.

Maria only smiled. "Lord Clausus, Lord Contarini, it is good of you to arrive, we will have need of you."

Virgil bowed to Maria, Vannius gave only a slightly lower head bow. "We have come prepared, Lady Chelebi. This is hardly a threat so worthy of dire warnings however." This last bit seemed directed more towards the man at Maria's right than to Maria herself.

___________________

Augustus nodded and stepped aside to allow Florien and his retainers entrance. "Indeed my Lord. My Mistress awaits in the main hall. I would offer you my guidance but I have been commanded to wait and greet all those whom have been invited."

Lydia rose to face Maria and would have answered, knowing well that the Sheriff would not find the Prince's jest as amusing, but the arrival of Lords Contarini and Clausus took precedence. Thus she could merely say quietly "I am your servant, your Highness," before stepping back to allow the Council to approach and discuss the matter privately with the Prince, although Lydia did spare a moment to return Virgil's brief smile.

Perhaps later she might speak with Virgil privately, yet Lydia knew her status was still too low within the city to overhear what the Council would say. Thus, after a few steps backwards, she wandered over to pretend interest in one of the more interesting of the Tapestries upon the walls, far enough away that soft voices would not carry to her.

Thus was Royal Politics.

Tradesmen who would have the tools and supplies he would need would live in the poorer parts of town, as would victims that no one would miss and places to dispose of the bodies. With an infusion of blood he could rearrange his features, discarding the fearsome war mask his flesh now wore in favor of a handsomer guise. With that and a safer haven he could begin treating with the city's Kindred in earnest.

He smiled. Hunting was a such a pleasure and this place was filled with prey. After months of supping on beasts and travellers the thought of blood feasts was almost irresistible.

Konstantin was now in the shadier parts of town, and it didn't take particularly long before a group of three larger men were standing in the road, one with a spear, another with a sword, and the third with a club. As the vampire brought his horse to a stop, a forth man appeared out of an alleyway behind Konstantin. The man with a sword spoke up.

"Well what'd we have here?"

Another man spoke up. "Looks like a traveler who needs directions."

"Well of course, and there is a price. Course, he doesn't look like he can afford it."

The man behind Konstantin spoke up. "S' a nice horse though. Could get quite a few gold from that."

The three others nodded and advanced on Konstantin. "Alright, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."