And Then I Came To See The Prophet

[Black Philip]

Reserved for Steph

His Majesty, King Mithras of Sparta, Prince of London, and now self-proclaimed leader of the Ventrue clan had accepted a strange and confusing missive from one of his human attendants and mind slaves. His Majesty accepted the personally written note, etched in Old English lettering, the ink as black as raven's feathers. Before even beginning to read he was impressed by the level of fealty shown in the presentation. Someone had gone a long way to make an adequate impression.

"Leave me," he said to his room of attendants, and one by one the young footman he'd obtained exited through the large double doors of the makeshift throne room. The king chose to read the note sitting in his most royal chair, a high backed mahogany frame with gold laid into the woodwork creating subtle images of violence and death. The upholstery was crimson, and pleated, made itself of fine silk, and stuffed with goose feathers. It was ostentatious and ugly, and he loved it for exactly those reasons. It had once been the throne to a lesser leader, a Ventrue so weak in the blood Mithras of Sparta had determined he was unworthy to wear the crown of prince. Now the city of Seattle was his, and all who dared oppose him were dead. He'd been ruling here for a few months now, ever since he left the city that wasn't ready for his splendor.

The king knew eventually he'd return, for Jacob at least. His female fledge would have to be removed, as well as the filthy Brujah who'd decided to prop him up. Like all bugs, they would be squished. It just wasn't time yet. Jacob had other problems to navigate, and only once he'd conquered his enemies would he be worthy of his Majesty's wrath. These thoughts of Jacob's suffering fueled the dark one, and he smiled wickedly as his chocolate covered eyes began to scan the contents of the letter.

Great Methuselah,

You are the last and true original child of the Ventrue bloodline, and grave injustice has been done to your name. The beautiful Mithras should have the right to claim his retribution. The fruit here had not matured when you last visited, I am here to tell you it is now ripe for the picking. You entered the city, only for a woman to treat you like a mere commoner! It was a great and merciful act on your part that you let her live. However, I have a clear clue of what you seek Mithras of Sparta.

I hope that you will humble me with your presence, I have a few names to drop that could help you sink your elegant hands into the city, and claim what had always been rightfully yours.

Gracious regards,

M. Bansai

It was a strange proposition, and held both detail and vagueness. For one who claimed to know what Mithras wanted, the letter was void of the actual information, and he found himself disturbed at the idea that someone would seek to state what he'd wanted. How could a flea know the needs of the dog it festers on? All the common people were fleas, and the monarchs they sought to devour were the hounds. Still, the writer had known about Mithras's encounter with the brood of Charon. Perhaps this one did have information. He also found the level of respect and deference acceptable, and decided that at worst he'd kill the imbecile for wasting his time. At best, he'd have his revenge soon. It was what they nowadays called a "win win."

He wrote on the back of the parchment, his own elegant hand forming a tight blue script. You may come to me. M. The letter would be sent back to the return address, and then Mithras supposed he'd have to wait for this Bansai to make their way to his court. In the meantime, he'd dream of his revenge.

~~~

On the day of the meeting, Mitrhas rose early and dressed in a black suit, with a matching skinny tie, winged tipped shoes, and his papal gold ring. His hair fell over most of his face, the black ringlets softening his hard looking visage. The cult's members had greeted Bansai and were now searching him and, if needed, removing any weapons. His Majesty would not take kindly to someone who was bringing him trouble. He kept his mind closed, even though the temptation to read his associate's thoughts were strong. He decided not to, wanting to be surprised as to whom this person might be. He looked to the young footman who stood next to the doors to his throne room.

"Let him in," the king's deep baritone voice uttered, a wave of his right hand supporting his words. The double doors were opened, revealing a large hexagon shaped room, overlooking the city. A chair had been placed for Mithras's guest, and the king wondered if the fool would go straight for it, or show the proper deference. The vagrant's fate might depend on what he chose.

[Idrial]

Mithras was a driving force, not a vampire who one could play like a mere, fat household cat on the throne. Employed. Unofficially. Numerous people wished to see Jake cease to function on several levels, his strife, distraction and chaos became his gain. His actions against the West cost him greatly, both in allies and friends. The campaign between Jake and Ben put in motion a plan, one that he would share with Mithras. A chance to kill two birds with one stone, when the letter returned, words brief and to the point, Mitchelletto crushed the letter in his right hand with glee. All would tremble at the King Mithras and his return.

~~~

Mitch had arrived a day early to Seattle. Choosing to wear a subtle but crisp looking outfit, one the breathed respect and submission. Dressed in a charcoal grey suit, a dark red pocket square and a red silk tie. A cream coloured undershirt, and charcoal grey shoes to match. Running a comb through his feathered hair, neatly putting it into place. A wicked grin on his face, the night would begin. Taking a swig of the venom infused vitae in his flask, his abilities would be accessible now. Tucking the letter in his pants, in case Mithras wanted proof.

When Mitchelletto arrived he agreed to the search, it did not take long for he brought no weapons with him. An insult to Mithras, once he was cleared the double doors had opened, it was the true Mithras, and not someone masquerading as the great King. That was a relief. Mitch stepped through the doors and immediately fell to one knee and bowed, his right arm across his knee and his head stooped low in respect.

"King Mithras. I thank you for an audience, may I have permission to approach your Grace?" He asked the Methuselah in a soft and submissive tone. Mitchelletto's manner conveyed the fact Mitchelletto understood the ball was in Mithras's court. The King was in control and Mitch was no fool.

Mitchelletto had to do this step by step, everything must be asked, even down to kissing the great King's hand, unless he offered it to Mitch of course. Awaiting the permission of the King before moving out of his stance. If Mithras said no he would stay, he seen a chair beside Mithras and Mitch did not think it was for him. Mitch was but a commoner, and to be called beside Mithras was an honour, but Mithras choose who could have that respect and him alone.

[Black Philip]

This vampire's mind was dark, and Mithras smelt a corruption that was all to familiar. Sabbat. His instinct was to kill this fool here and now. The Camarilla and the Sabbat had been enemies for hundreds of years, and Mithras had been there at the beginning. However, the Ventrue ancient had woken in a time when his enemy was gone, and now the Camarilla was mostly gone too. They were fading from this world. The man's fealty had been sufficient. Perhaps the old hatreds didn't mean what they used to, at least when it came to hearing this Sabbat out.

"You may not," he replied stiffly, pointing to the offered chair. "You may sit though, and you may answer my questions. Perhaps, if you please me, you can approach then."

Once Mitch was in his seat, he'd be dominated if he chose to resist, Mithras looked him over more closely. He smelt like power, something similar to the blood wizards of clan Tremere, and yet, he was clearly not one of them. That meant... "you're a member of the Banu Haquim, no? Are you not one of the Black Hand itself?"

His Majesty had other questions, like how he'd known about Mithras's first incursion into the city. However, first he needed to know this one's clan and idendity. Status is all that really matters, and Mithras wanted to know what status this one brought.

[Idrial]

Mitchelletto rose with the grace of death to his feet, bowing his head once again before proceeding the chair with haste, this was not a man to be kept waiting and Mitch sat down. Legs neatly together, hands folded delicately in his lap and gazing directing at Mithras. Beautiful dark brown eyes, shimmering in the golden hue, and Mitch picked up on a rare clue. Serpentis. That did not surprise him. Mithras would have mastered his clan disciplines now, although how he came to learn Serpentis was a mystery to Mitch.

"You are correct your Grace," he declared softly. "I am from the Sorcerers caste in the clan," in the Sabbat it was rare to see a Sorcerer. The Sabbat had been made up of warriors stock for centuries.

"My official status was a Dominion," Mitch expressed plainly. "A rank between the Seraphim and the rest of the Black Hand members," Mitch was no idiot. If Mithras was asking about the Black Hand then he realized Mitch had served the Sabbat, and yet he did not kill him. That was interesting.

[Black Philip]

The recitation of the Sabatt's pedigree was heard with the minimal interest required for such an activity. His Majesty could only be so interested in the exploits of any enemy branch, but the facts were interesting for a soul purpose. The showed this one had advanced through his own ranks, and more importantly, understood his place in relation to a king. Perhaps, this could prove fruitful.

"And when you worked for the Black Hand, did you kill Camarilla?"

The question was free of malice, but the Ventrue's eyes glowed gold. He was wary of one with magic, despite their obvious difference in age.

[Idrial]

"Correct your Grace," his tone low and respectful. Picking up that the question was free from contempt, noticing those golden eyes flickering at Mitch, and it made him cautious but forthcoming. "I've also coordinated blood hunts and killed illegal or undesirable childer for them in the past," demonstrating to Mithras he was familiar with infiltrating different types of factions and remain undetected. In some cases for centuries, and his next statement demonstrated his abilities.

"I was friendly with Hardenstadt before Theo Bell shot him," he stated grimly. Already looking into this incident since the word of his sudden and confusing death crossed his ears. Various emotions, desires and newfound ambitions exploded with the Ventrue's alarming end. Jan Pieterzoon, his fledge, had gone missing too. Theo claimed he had nothing to do with Pieterzoon's disappearance, and Mitch believed Jan was killed in battle at the Convention of Prague.

"My association with Hardenstadt enabled me to learn of several rumours. One being evidently, the Brujah Tyler committed diablerie at one point in his undead life. In my opinion, I believe it to be true," an incredibly tall tale meant to scare the Camarilla Mitch had been told. However, after conducting his own research, there was too much evidence for it to be dismissed as an old wives' tale, but no adequate evidence to prove it credible without question.

[Black Philip]

The Sabbat's answer was pragmatic and honest, a refreshing use of a trick question. Had Mitch lied about killing Camarilla then his Majesty would've been forced to end this dialogue. Instead, he'd admitted it, and pointed out he'd done work for the Camarilla too. He was an opportunist. Loyalty might not be assured, but that was fine. Mithras had the power to ensure loyalty if it came to that. The information about Hardenstadt was interesting, but somewhat confusing.

"You mean Hardenstadt the younger," Mithras clarified. "The older, my peer, was consumed by this Tyler. You are wise to know that Tyler is real, and not a folk tale."

The Camarilla's leaders were all dying to the Anarchs. This Theo Bell was now on a list of Anarchs who would die by Mitrhas's hand, eventually. Jacob was to be dealt with first. His past work with the Venture made Mitch good enough to at least hear out.

"Why are you here, and what do you want from me," he asked slowly.

[Idrial]

To discover that Tyler had consumed Hardenstadt the Elder stunned Mitch for a moment, to find out he had been correct about Tyler pleased him. But to learn Tyler consumed Hardenstadt the Elder was unnerving, and here he thought Theo Bell was the more immediate threat. Tyler must be killed but with extreme caution, he would not make the same mistake with Jake McCloud and his damned sword.

"I thank you for your praise," to have Mithras announce Mitch was wise not to believe Tyler was a folklore tale delighted him.

"I want nothing from you," reassuring Mithras. "What I present to you is an opportunity that would give you an opening to return to the city."

"This is a fact. Jake McCloud and Ben Samson are having an election for leadership over the Central District, certain rivals are taking advantage of the situation. Let's just say both are to become extremely unstable," his current employer's plans had been two weeks in the making already, everything had gone smooth and ahead of schedule. Minus the rituals, they worked on there own time and merit, but it would be complete before the big event.

"My viewpoint, Ben Samson would be the easiest to take advantage of in the long run. Ben is inexperienced, but eager and power can change a young man. Ben hates Jake and he is not alone on that front. Ben is beloved while Jake is not, Jake has burned more than one bridge in the city. Ben is trusted by some of the most powerful influences in the city. Including there security task force called the Ward, and he has his own building full of donors called the Luminary."

"In my opinion, if a King of your pedigree could unknowingly micromanage Ben to better manipulate more votes his direction. He might succeed in taking the Central from Jake. Then you could manipulate Ben to keep the toxic, and cut out the good to advance your agenda," he had been speaking long enough and allowed Mithras to process the information.

[Black Philip]

Ben. Who was Ben, and why should his Majesty care? He was being made out to be some great rival for Jacob, but without the context of why. Was this Ben a Ventrue? What lineage did he come from? If he sought to take Jacob's seat of power, then why not kill him and be done with it? Perhaps this Ben couldn't just kill Jacob? That was one explanation. Another was that he felt his position would be compromised by murder, which would mean the city would frown on such an act.

The only reason his Majesty had not walked into the city, killed all it's leaders and installed himself was because of Charon. Charon alone could stop him if he went that far. Charon was the only living vampire whom Mithras feared. As long as Charon lived Mithras would not take the city. Even to return might force a confrontation. No, he would wait. What was a few years when they had eternity? Still, this Mitch had shown himself to be pragmatic and sneaky, and Mithras smiled as he thought of other ways this one could be used.

"Tell me more of this Ben," he instructed. "But first, what is your stake in this? Why help me? Why help Ben? I do not invest in ideas I can't see all sides of."

Mithras crossed his hands over his lap and stared down with a severe, and calculated interest. Why did this Sabbat wish to see Jacob fall, and how far would he be willing to go to accomplish his goal?

[Idrial]

"McCloud has been a thorn in numerous people as of late. I have had dealings with him in the past, my current employer needed my advice on his magical weapon. My stake is an exchange of information from this person. Valuable information." His employer had played his cards nicely, and succeeding in his task would secure a small bridge of trust.

"Ben is a puppet, but a precious one. So I offer him, in a sense, to you. He may not be valuable to someone like me, but you? He could be quite useful, and an opportunity should never be wasted. Whether Ben wins or not does not alter my employer's agenda. But it could change yours." Mitch knew Mithras was turned away at Venture. His employer allowed him access to certain files on Ben to build up a profile, and winning the election could open more doors for Mithras then it could for Mitch.

"Ben has been known to frequent the club you were turned away at, he has been in this city for a long time. He has a history, more good than bad for a young fledgling. Ben has even been spotted at Penbrook Chruch and Estate on numerous occasions over the years."

"Ben has had involvement with Lazarus, an Ancient and the prior Luminary before Kerr Galvin took his title. That is Ben's sire and lover. An on and off relationship over many years I found out, but it seems Bens' connection with Kerr Galvin is helping with his campaign. In my opinion, Kerr is being used as a safety net in case Ben wins but fails to properly lead the Central District."

"Recently, Lazarus returned to the city and was given a second chance by McCloud. Employed under his services, it was later Ben was given to McCloud by Charon as punishment. Ben slighted McCloud in some way and needed to be taught a lesson."

"At some point it all exploded beyond McCloud's control at the White Rabbit. Lazarus was found guilty of rape and sexual assault against both Ben and Jake in a public trial. It was shortly after Ben declared Jake was unfit to lead and called an election at his grand opening for his Academy for Supernaturals," he wondered what Mithras was thinking? There was a lot of information to work with, but he wondered was there something specific Mithras is seeking?

[Black Philip]

All of the Sabbat's council was heard, but the vampire alluded to a side Mithras couldn't yet see. He leaned forward, and his eyes flashed gold. The serpent awakened and his Majesty's jaw opened wide to reveal two, large fangs. His golden eyes bore into Mitch's lack of soul.

"And who, do tell, is your employer? Who is the master of this very well spoken puppet?"

Mithras knre he could force the answer if he had to, the Sabbat's mind no match for his Majesty's force of will. However, this agent could still be use, and there was no need to splatter the carpet prematurely. He needed to know who the employer was first. Then the king would see what fun could be had with this miscreant fool.

[Idrial]

Mitch studied the King's display of power with curiosity rather than suspicion, entranced willingly in his crisp golden eyes, and it reminded him of another magic-user; one he actually feared more than Mithras. Mitch continued to be courteous to Mithras, his obsession with control was a familiar feeling to Mitch, and it did not cause him to lose his composure. He spoke quietly in hopes of satisfying Mithras.

"He and I share a common enemy, we have worked together in the past as equals. I am not a puppet to him and he is not my master. At best I am an expert for hire. Navigating waters he has no map for, and for my help, he has promised to loan my soul back to me. That is my reward, plus my bonus of precious information." Mithras would probably find that piece of information interesting, Mitch knew the demon who took his soul and was willing to loan it back on certain terms. The relationship worked and continued to benefit the two for over two-hundred years.

"I hope you understand, I do follow a code of privacy set by the Banu Haqim," holding his golden stare with the utmost respect. "Even though I prefer the Sabbat techniques of torture." He did not need Mithras thinking he had a loose tongue, would crack on a whim, or resign from his professional responsibilities.

"With your permission my Grace. May I complete my task first and then give the name to you?" Mithras would sense Mitch's duty to remain professional on all levels, even if he was Sabbat once. Giving out a name could compromise the mission, it was that simple. He hoped, that would win some approval from Mithras, he was asking for permission, not denying the information outright. Mitch came with information, freely and expected nothing in return.

Mitch also anticipated the terms of being invited as a guest would hold, hoping that would give him some wiggle room. He did not want to give up the name now, but this was Mithras. His obsession to win the game pressed down on Mitch, hard. Mithras could tell that Mitch would give up the name, and willingly. Mitch just hoped to ask for permission to give the name later did not fail.

[Black Philip]

Now, his Majesty was beginning to lose patience. He'd been reasonable in his earlier request, but Mitchelleto was acting like he had something to hide. The ancient was used to ulterior motives. He often had several of his own, but others were not allowed to have them. Mitch spoke of partnership, but that concept was utterly foreign to the Ventrue. After all, there was only one king in this room. He'd learned from his last encounter with the awful Jeanne,  that he couldn't just blow up at a moment's notice. No, he had to be more cunning than in the old days. The weakness of the present era had every fuck wad with a pair of fangs thinking they were special.

"Approach me," he commanded, the mental force of Dominate making sure Mitch didn't have other plans. Once the Sabbat was at the base of Mithras's makeshift throne, the elder commanded, "on your knees."

Now, looking down at the vampire in front of him, Mithras retracted his serpent fangs into normal vampire canines, and gently touched the top of Mitch's head. "I'm afraid I must insist."

[Idrial]

Mitchelletto obeyed without question, feeling the powerful force dominate pressured his mind to remain civil. It was not needed. Falling to his knees in front of Mithras with haste, the hand on his head while gentle in appearance, could crush his head at any given moment. He did not hesitate to answer, no pause or even a sigh.

"My current employer is a man named Laurent," he better still be getting his soul and his prize. No one knew of the deception that was afoot in the demon hold, and the less that knew Laurents name the better.

With Mithras and his extraordinary power it put Mitch in a rock and a hard place, is that all he was seeking? The name of his employer and nothing more? Mitch remained on his knees, anticipating the Kings next move now that he had given up the name without a fuss.

[Black Philip]

Mithras stroked Mitch's brow like a lover, soft, kind and with passion.Suddenly, he was no longer frightening but intoxicating, a beautiful demigod of male prowess. His aura was all consuming, and someone with Mitch's lust would be drawn like a moth to the flame. Still, Mithras kept the Sabbat on his knees. Mitch's prize for his cooperation was the honor of being this close.

"And what kind of man is Laurent," Mithras asked, his golden eyes holding Mitch's firmly in place. "And what, if anything, does he want with me?"

His Majesty was almost satisfied, almost ready to release Mitch from this bewitchment, but he would not give an inch until his curiosity was fully sated.