From SuspireWiki
Been around Kindred a long while now. Seen some things. Done some things. I know how the way of the world works, and it's certainly not the way that's theorized by the Carthians, or the opportunity to do what's right like the Sanctified say. There's never any Gods to help you truly when there's a blade at your throat and a gang of ruffians are taking your city by force, sad to say. There's no science to teach you how to hold your nerve when it's you and another, deciding on who's going to walk out of a room with blades in hand. The only truth, the only thing that's real, is that you have to learn how to gamble the best. You can work on stacking the deck in your favor, you can align yourself with strong forces, or you can hope for luck of the draw.
Like I said, I been around Kindred awhile now. I decided after I saw the people hoping for the luck of the draw become nothing but jokes over the dinner table that it wouldn't be me. Some like to say it's the Daeva blood, but the truth of the matter is much more simple. You join a side or you die. Maybe you won't die this year or next, this decade or next, but sooner or later, you'll find yourself at the wrong end of a blade, or a stake, or your home's shot and there's no where else to go. If it were so easy to become an ancient, then we'd have more of them by now in America, don't you think? How many ancients do you know? How many Kindred do you know who've lived to need to feed on Kindred? And finally, how many of them know your name?
It's okay. Most Kindred can't answer those questions well either.
I was first introduced to my grandsire the third or fourth night I was dead. Kind of felt like I was at a meat market. He told me the only thing I could expect in my requiem was what I paved for myself. He told me that my sire would have a lot of lessons for me to take in, and if I were a wise boy (yeah, he used boy) I'd listen and take them to heart. He and my sire sparred a little with some wooden sticks. I wish I'd taken more from that visual, now, but all I could think was how bizarre it was that the chubby man could move so much nicer across the floor with that wooden blade than my ripped and toned "sire", Harold Warden, could.
I did take his lessons to heart, though. But I saw what happened with him when he met a better opponent. He was too proud to back down, and too proud to admit that he were wrong. There's a law against killing, but not a law against duels. Sometimes a Knight, even one from the Brotherhood of the Unbroken Blade guild, encounters a situation they can't use a blade to get out of. Age trumps skill, period. It was almost embarrassing that he was bested in the Monomacy, but grandsire told me to never consider a death in an honorable combat to be an embarrassment. It took me a long time to get over the "but if you lose you're dead" part and understand what it is he was saying.
Even when you die, your name lives on. How it lives on through your childer and their childer and your cousins in blood is how you make it. You can be an embarrassment, or you can be known as the man who honorably dueled and was simply bested.
When I came to that realization, I was granted a space to train in the Brotherhood of the Unbroken Blade guild by my grandsire, the Meister, the chubby man.
At first it was a bit like a boy among men. I thought I knew a lot more than I did, and it showed repeatedly. I can't tell you how many welts I had to heal and how many special dispensations I had to request to hunt and feed to heal them. Thankfully, the Invictus appreciates rough men ready to do harm on their behalf. In the end, I was like a block of wood slowly being whittled and shaped in the image of swordsmanship and combat.
But I never forgot the other lessons I'd also experienced for myself. There are plenty of times where a sword or a touch to the hilt can get you into a fight that you can't get yourself out of. There are plenty of fights where there aren't swords and armor at all and those are the most deadly. Come armed, literally and figuratively. Be able to spar, be able to spar with words. It was difficult to maintain that balance. A Knight order doesn't much spend time on verbal sparring. You're taught the proper way of things, but in the end, you're the one who chooses how you want to apply yourself verbally. Some Knights who graduate there are the model soldier dressed in the dignity of Knighthood, but they'll always be just a Knight. They will probably die sooner or later.
But my grandsire was different. He worked his way into a House and he's the Meister of an order of knights. He's politically savvy and a master with his body. He didn't spend years single-mindedly training himself, he branched out. He knew the lessons I wanted to learn.
I couldn't tell you how many times I requested a private mentorship from him. But he wouldn't have any of it. He had some strange sense of rightness. He said, even after I had graduated from the Order, that I still hadn't earned the right to his mentorship. I was angry, and some inanimate objects certainly took the brunt of my wrath. But I finally came to the conclusion that he wouldn't accept my mentorship because he hadn't seen me apply any of the lessons I'd learned. It's one thing to learn things, it's one thing to apply them. So, with that in mind, I sought out to purposely be involved in the dealings of the Invictus and Los Angeles at large.
I was first introduced to Penelope of Hawke during my Manumission, but it was a polite meeting. A "Congratulations", nothing more. I hadn't really done anything by then, of course. But the second time I met her, it was under business premises. I learned from another Kindred in Los Angeles that there was something going on, but no one was sure exactly what. So, I indentured some service to a few Kindred that were vassals to the House Hawke and got closer to finding out. When I thought perhaps all of it was going to be for nothing, as whatever was going on had already gone on, I was approached by a young ghoul. It spoke candidly, giving me a summons to the Hawke estate.
I went, of course.
I met the dynasty then, and I was spoken of as William's grandchilde. They asked me if I would be willing to do something unorthodox, something that required many delicate cuts rather than a broad swath of a blade. They asked me to go to Las Vegas. They asked me to be an agent provocateur. It was bizarre, but they said I was a perfect choice, and if things went sour, I would be able to get free of a situation and return. I'd have to be under Oath, of course. It was of utmost secrecy.
And so I accepted. I arranged my things and I went to Vegas.
It was Vegas, but it was lazy. Kindred were comfortable and relaxed. They accepted me in without second thought. Of course I'd have to get around to swearing my fealty to the Hold. But welcome to Las Vegas for now! Don't you have such a nice smile? Your curls are cute, you should keep them.
On and on. But I didn't forget what I was there for, I was there to cause problems, and I worked with another of the oathsworn to House Hawke, a Ventrue, to do so. They took the business angles, I took the angles of the heart and impulse. History is history, and if you know about it, you know what happened in Las Vegas.
After the deeds were done, I stepped back to let the calvary in, and then joined up with them when they finally arrived. Dual sides, got to come armed with your blade and your tongue. I had done it and I was proud of what I had done. The blade part came almost too easily; some I let go to flee elsewhere while the other soldiers, mercs and Knights cut swaths through the population.
When it was all said and done, I left Las Vegas to report to the Hawkes. Grandsire pulled out one of the letters I had first written to him and asked if I were still interested in that mentorship.
Answering "Hell Yes" would have been inappropriate.
So I started my mentorship with my grandsire, and split time between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. I was comfortable with the drive, I was comfortable with the moving back and forth, and as I saw Kindred start to populate Las Vegas again, I was pleased. I had helped to build this. I had earned my place. I had finally earned the blood in my veins.
