For over one long century Ive waited in the courts of London for an audience with his divinity, the Prince of bulls called Mithras. Finally the Prince wakes. I wait for a further three months before I am granted a private audience, even then given only a brief time in which to offer his divinity the backing of the Voivodate. The Prince stares through me as I make the offer. I will never again feel so insignificant. Yet I cannot help but smile. Finally I am here. Into the chamber is brought a young Usurper, captured outside of Winchester and brought to London. I was not expecting a third presence in the room, yet I offer no complaint. I merely hold my grin, etched into my flesh as it is. Mithras says your answer is within the Warlock, at which point he stands stiffly, and leaves the chamber. I smile at the bedraggled Tremere. He looks terrified by my countenance. I follow the Princes advice and go on to rend the Usurper unto dust and ash. There is no note within his remains. No key. No map, or clue. But my smile remains fixed. You see, Mithras had made acceptance of the Voivodates offer. What better gift to a Tzimisce? What better token of welcome? For true, Prince Mithras is a superlative host. He would put even my own clanmates to shame. Rarely is one afforded such a delightful gift. - Saul, Tzimisce envoy to London
Posted on: Fri, 28 Nov 2014 23:41:35 +0000
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