Amadeus Lazarus (sanguinemagic) wrote in nybynightic, @ 2021-02-13 04:31:00 |
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Things that had led to compromised blood supplies and the poisoning of their younger and weaker Kindred.
He had thought himself in the clear with the deaths that had happened and had been truly shocked when the Primogen and Sheriff had shown themselves. Maybe he would have been in the clear if poor, dear ole Reggie hadn’t forgotten one very important piece when it came to it all: Micah’s Malkavian. He should have focused on getting rid of Julian as well but had underestimated him
Funny how those who underestimated the youngest Malk in the city often ended up dead. Though their mole wasn’t dead. Not yet. For now he was just unconscious and they’d let Julian make sure there wasn’t anything he could pull out what was left of Reggie before he did meet his final death. There were things regarding the Kindred in the city that as Herald that Reggie might be privy to that they’d need to know.
Like just who all was on that list and where it was. It was not something they needed falling into SI hands.
For now they would leave Reggie in Julian’s loving hands. If the look on the Malkavian’s face was anything to go by, their mole wasn’t going to have any more of a pleasant time with him than he had with them and Amadeus could see why Micah and Julian fit together so well. Besides, they had other things to do. Like take back a city before it ended up even more of a mess. They couldn’t stay in the shadows forever.
Which is how they ended up outside of the tower. Amadeus for once didn’t teleport directly inside. For one they were meeting Micah’s men before heading inside to see what sort of opposition awaited them. For another he had other plans on being overly dramatic—such as making the doors burst open on their own once everything was in place and strolling in as if he hadn’t been thought dead the past few weeks and owned the place.
“Lucy, we’re home. You have some explaining’ to do,” he called out to draw the attention of those who lingered and schemed to fill the shoes of those left behind. And the Tremere knew that word would quickly spread to Elysuim about their return from the grave and draw out the curious who had been hiding there. “Consider court to soon be in session.”
The Ventrue Primogen, however, was a lot more muted in his entrance, content to let Amadeus take the lead on this with his theatrics. Instead, he remained primarily focused on the grand picture, signaling his men to flank the great hall the moment they entered, fanning out on both sides of the door, effectively sealing off all escape routes. Kindred were a hardy lot, left on their own, they would always attempt to make the best of their situation and move forward—a trait that Micah could not fault them, even if in this case, more organised opposition simply meant more work for him.
He nodded—just the slightest movement—and at once the twenty or so men that had come with him began to clean up the audience left in the hall. Micah had been very clear in his instruction. Those that would swear fealty to him and whose backgrounds checked out and could be used were to be left behind. For all others—only final death awaited.
Micah would allow no more lapses in judgment nor mistakes to happen.
But even if the Ventrue Primogen didn’t say a single word or hardly moved from the spot he was in at the center of the hall, the sphere of his influence was clearly at work. Barely any of the opposers even moved, their gazes flitting about as they watched the approach of Micah’s men, but their bodies heedless of their own wills. Some older Kindred, could as they found, still initially move. But as they resisted, the Ventrue’s power simply took a firmer hold, suffocating them with the might of his commands: submit.
And few could stand against a Ventrue as old as Micah.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Micah said, with just the slightest hint of disapproval.
Amadeus simply gave a shrug to that. “What can I say. I’ve been bored.” Well, bored was one way of putting what he had been lately. The lack of inaction he had been forced into while in the shadows had been stifling. He had still managed to move about to look into things but not like he had been before. Not to mention that everything had changed now. The reminder of the Hounds had fled the city, as had his hacker, and while he could hardly fault any of them for it, the once mighty Sheriff was left alone.
In more ways than one.
“Besides, what’s not to enjoy about watching you bring a room to its knees.” Well, they might not be on their knees yet but they would be soon enough, other to give their loyalty or lose their lives. Amadeus was really hoping some would be stupid enough to choose the latter so that he could step in. At the same time, there were those that if they choose fealty would be useful in filling the holes that had been left behind.
The doors to the hall were left open so that as the word spread and those who had sought Elysium for safety could witness what was soon about to happen.
Those who tried to oppose would fall first—their face contorted in displeasure and rage for a slight moment before Micah’s will took over, and then a careful blankness replacing their previously colorful expressions. They fell to their knees then, and Micah’s men swooped in, cleaning things up with a simple silver bullet to the head.
Several gunshots rang out in succession around them—those who tried for power rarely were ones that were gifted in knowledge, after all. And less of them able to part with their pride. But Micah was focused on searching for the ones that were. On the signs of clever recognition and quick adaptability—qualities that he could put to use immediately.
Of which, there were few, but their numbers were diminished as it was.
Micah scanned the room, counting five. No, six. Staring at him and Amadeus in watchful caution.
Quietly, he let his influence and power recede to the background, lifting the hold he had on them just the slightest bit. Enough that they could respond. But not to move or leave the room.
“We are in difficult times, my fellow Kindred,” Micah spoke quietly, but the low timbre of his voice rang clearly throughout the entire hall. “The Second Inquisition is upon us. They have struck at the very heart of our society and devastated our numbers. We are but what’s left—the shambles of a community, struggling to find our feet again. But if we do not do it soon, they will come for us. And this time, they may succeed for good.” He paused, looking at each and everyone of the captive Kindred in turn, impressing upon then the weight of his words.
“Join me. Help me save our city.”
A snap of his fingers and those that Micah’s men had taken out went up in flames so that their bodies became nothing but ash. A not so subtle reminder of the power that stood next to the Ventrue and had already clearly chosen what side he fell on.
“And why should we follow you,” one dared to ask, even though Amadeus figured it was a fair enough question, especially when it was followed up with, “why when clearly you’ve been hiding the fact that you’ve been alive.”
“Simple. We’ve been the ones cleaning up this fiasco,” Amadeus stated. “We’re now the eldest living Kindred in the city and right now power and centuries of knowledge is what is needed to hold this city. Both of which you know that Micah holds.” With or without Amadeus’ help but having the most powerful blood warlock in the city at your side didn’t hurt. After all the threat had helped Lucian hold his power—at least until his own foolish mistakes had caught up with him. Micah however Amadeus knew to be no fool. “This is not even the start for us.”
Amadeus gave a nod of his head and what was left of the former Herald was brought in. It was clear that anything that had been left of the pieces of his mind after Micah had forced the information from him had been finished off by the Malakavian.
Dissent was only to be expected. It followed every change in ruler, every turn of power. But the difference was in Micah's attitude towards it and how he dealt with dissenters.
The former Herald was a shell of the Kindred he had been. As proof of Micah's leadership, it was terrible. But if it was meant to be a deterrent, that it did well in spades. And clearly, those were along the lines of what the ones left behind were thinking then as expressions of displeasure and frank hatred displayed on their faces for a moment.
"Is this supposed to make us confident in your leadership? Because while it might speak volumes about your penchant for torture, it says nothing about the former." This from a quieter one in the back, with eyes glinting with challenge.
One of Micah's men moved forward at the affront, gun at the ready, poised to fire at at moment. But Micah stopped him with a look, wordlessly. He waited for his subordinate to nod once, before moving back to the line he was holding.
And then the one who spoke had Micah's full attention.
"No. You will follow me because that is the best option. The only option we have. The herald was the leak. And we have eliminated the problem."
“A leak that you all allowed to continue to happen while you all set up here and hen pecked each other over what to do. One that not only took your leaders but allowed countless younger kindred who should have had your protection died because none of you were looking at stopping the leak. Was your plan to let the remaining ones starve while you argued over what to do,” Amadeus asked.
He didn’t even wait for an answer before he stepped towards where their mole had been dropped down to his knees. He no longer had the strength to meet his final death on his feet and even if he did, Amadeus didn’t feel like he deserved it. Just as he didn’t feel like he deserved a quick or painless death. The Tremere gave a twist of his fingers, a twist of the blood, and Reggie screamed as his own blood within him began to boil. It seemed fitting considering what those who had died of the poisoned blood had gone through.
As the screams stopped, Amadeus stepped back again.
“While they died, Micah used his resources as a leader to find the leak and stop it. Not only stop it but find out what he knew. How many of you can say you would have been able to do the same?”
It wasn't Micah's preference to sit down and have a chat with opposers. It was the way of the Kindred to take power by force, by imposing their will and using their capabilities and power to forcibly wrest control from their predecessors when they became incapable. But the situation now was different. Their numbers being what they are, there wasn't much choice.
But it didn't stop Micah from pointing out the truth. "Or I could also finish the rest of you off," he said blandly. As if they were discussing the weather. "Get rid of all dissenters completely and start anew, as all others have done before me and are likely to do over and over again."
The look on Amadeus’ own face grew bored as he stepped back to Micah’s side. “Is it too late to just burn it all down and start over?” It was certainly an idea. Anyone who didn’t have it in them to want the power that was to be gained by having stayed in the city had fled. Those who saw the opportunity in trying to grab for it had stayed and now they had the choice to take that power or die.
Amadeus’ eye flickered to where some of the younger Kindred who remained in the city such as Roman had slipped into the room and watched. And of course Julian. One of the youngest Kindred left alive currently but also one of the most powerful. Certainly the most powerful of the Malkavians currently left in the city no matter his age. One that everyone knew by now to be completely loyal to Micah.
Micah didn’t just have his own power but powerful allies and it was becoming more clear by the second to those who remained that he didn’t actually need them and that his words were not idle threats. Nor was Amadeus’ desire to just see them all burn.
“I’d choose quickly before we choose for you.”
It didn't happen immediately. But it was clear the tides had shifted. The time of Lucian Carlyle had passed, and now as a smattering of the ones left behind emerged from the ashes, they had naturally gravitated towards the strongest amongst them, the only one capable of leading them in the uncertain times that lay ahead.
Until finally—another one of the silent ones in the corner, wordlessly bent a knee—"Please accept my allegiance."
That’s all it took for the others to follow suit. They didn’t all bend the knee at once. It happened slowly as one by one each of the remaining Kindred weighed their odds as they realized this was it. There were no grand gestures or promises as Lucian had given when he had taken over.
This was about survival and power. If they wanted to survive this was it. Otherwise, they’d be crushed by the power before them. Or the second inquisition that lay in wait in the shadows.
One by one, they all bent, until at long last it was just Micah alone standing in the middle of the Hall, surrounded by the remainder of the Kindred and the scattered numbers still spread out in the city, perhaps fighting for their lives, or cowering and hiding for fear of it. Here, in the Ivory Tower, he reached out to all of them, wordlessly, silently: A new Prince was here.
And along with that—the dawn of a new Age.