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Action PART I Jardins, middle of January Marcela had foreseen that that meeting would be chaotic, but not that it would be that much. It was a subject of importance and urgency never before seen in São Paulo Kindred society, for there were an Archon in town. And it was common knowledge among those in that room that he was only a herald to a Justicar. "I say let'im come, I don’t give a shit. He’ll arrive and place one of us in the throne and everything’s gonna be the same." The Tremere stayed idle, worryless. By his side, a man of canine face whispered with a rough and rotten voice. "Come on, Humberto, don’t be so simple-minded. If you think a Justicar would come all the way here only to keep the exact same status quo we created, you are deeply and stupidly equivocated. When he comes, he will destroy anything that was not built by the Inner Circle and reforge the city at their will. Our territory will never be the same, and we will pay the price of our insolency." "I disagree, Diego. Although a few things might change in politics, we know who will keep the real power, don’t we?" "Typical of the Ventrue to think he’s invincible because he's got the money. Who d’you think will get screwed for letting this mess happen in the city, huh? D’you think he’ll like to know we did things our way without asking anyone? I don’t think so. And judging by the Archon’s visit and the Justicar’s message I know you also received, you should have come to the same conclusion. We must prepare to struggle whoever decides to show up, bet it who--" Marcela interrupted: "Don’t even start the pointless idealism, Fernando. It takes two seconds of thinking to realize that a few Kindred from a city can nothing against an international organization. And let’s not forget the other pieces on the board, the 'unaligned'." "Oh, for Christ’s sake, Marcela! That bunch of crap don’t give a damn for anything! At least we follow the Traditions, so I think we have some--" "It makes no difference, Humberto. When the Justicar arrives, he won’t bother find out who is playing Camarilla or who isn’t. Damn, do you know how many Brujah, Nosferatu and Malkavians are among their rows? If the most influent of them is a Ventrue, who can tell if one of THEM won’t be given the Prince title? Who among them would decline?" Everyone silenced; only the sound of paper sheets moving to the wind in the corner of the room could be listened. Augusto broke the silence. "I think we could, you know, nown one of us Prince. Nothing official, see? Only to give the impression we are organized. I mean, if the Justicar arrives and sees we are, let’s say, some steps foward in the institutionalization of São Paulo Camarilla, he won’t have that much to complain, don’t you think? If you agree I--" With a punch capable of cleaving the oak table, Fernando angerly interrupted Augusto. "Stop bullshitting on us, Augusto", the Brujah roared pointing a finger ant his well dressed mate’s face. "I can end this disgraceful unlife of yours before you can count to ten." Chaos returned in an explosion of comments and prosecutions. The four men argued loudly, so focused on fighting that none of them noticed a servant approaching and whispering something in Marcela’s ear. "Enough", she said, serious. Like magic, everyone turned to listen to her. “I’ve just been informed... the Archon was destroyed by a Sabbat pack. The five were paralyzed with perplexity and preocupation. The situation, already unfavorable, suddenly became desperate. With an officer of the Camarilla dead, nothing could be done to make the Justicar’s visit less dramatic. "They say a powerful Tzimisce from Washington planned it all", the Toreador carried on. "Vykos...", Humberto mumbled. There was no hope. The fate of all vampires from São Paulo was in the hands of the Justicar, and for those present in that room, all that left was guessing. It was time to listen to a voice that kept silent during all the time in the cold room. "What do you think, Ace?", questioned Diego. From one of the windows, unnoticed till now, from where one could hear the sound of cards wandering between fingers, a gallant man slowly approached light, with a deck of cards dancing in his hands and a sinister smile stamped on his handsome face. "I don’t think, Diego. I know." Ace slowly turned a card face up on the table. "The King of Spades. Francisco de Angola will be the new Prince." Tension was almost solid among the vampires in that room. They knew they couldn’t entirely rely on the Malkavian’s word. They also knew they couldn’t ignore it. "And when our friend, the Justicar, arrives?”, the Ventrue asked with anger." "In a month, Augusto. On Carnaval." Read the prelude Back to the Master page |