Infernal Plague Epilogue
Jan Pieterzoon showed Alan Sovereign into the private chamber of
Hardestadt the Elder.
"Welcome to Europe, Mr. Sovereign," Hardestadt said.
"Thank you, sir," Alan replied. "It's my pleasure to be here." Alan
lowered his head in a subtle gesture reminiscent of a bow, then he
raised his eyes to meet the elder's gaze. Although Alan doubted that a
creature as powerful as Hardestadt would need to look him in the eyes
to enthrall him, it couldn't hurt in these times of treachery to show
his elder that he had nothing to hide.
"Quentin sends his regards, sir," Alan said.
"And I appreciate Mister King sparing one of his remaining, trusted
advisors on such short notice," Hardestadt answered. Jan motioned Alan
toward a leather seat as Pieterzoon and Hardestadt both sat. Alan took
his seat. He had imagined many times meeting the founder of the
Camarilla, and many times he had questioned his own ability to remain
composed in the face of so potent a Kindred. Now he found Hardestadt's
presence cool yet comfortable, not unlike the Old World luxuries that
appointed the chamber.
"And how is Quentin managing the treason of Lorance and the others?"
Hardestadt asked.
Alan had no doubt that Hardestadt knew exactly how things were being
managed in every area of Camarilla domain, but he suspected there was
some other purpose to the question.
"There was some initial shock and dismay at the number of traitors and
that they had actually become infernalists," he began, "but now that
that has come to light, affairs have been managed well."
Hardestadt nodded. "Our enemies within and without have finally
revealed themselves for all Kindred to see. Some within our ranks are
shocked by the extent of the Baali's corruption and the number of
turncoats within our ranks, especially among the line of Arikel. The
Toreador might think they can change masters whenever their passions
drive them in a new direction, but now they have pledged themselves to
a master who commands eternal obedience.
"For our part, we have faced this enemy before, and we ground the Baali
into the dust. We now go to war to do so again, and you are to become a
solider in that war, Mr. Sovereign."
"Yes, sir," Alan said, his thoughts tumbling. He was no soldier fit for
battle. Surely other Kindred in the sect were more qualified for
actual, physical conflict. Surely Hardestadt knew that. Surely he
wasn't actually being drafted to literally follow Theo Bell into
assaults on Baali havens.
"As we move all of our resources into their proper position,"
Hardestadt continued, "we find that we have need of someone with
expertise in international banking and money laundering. Jan will
provide you with the information on certain corporations and trusts and
their worldwide bank accounts. He will also introduce you to certain
arms-dealers known to us. It seems that ever since the Americans have
put forth their efforts to stop the financing of international
terrorism, it is no longer a simple matter to discretely purchase the
conventional arsenal we need for the coming conflict. It is now your
job to see that it gets done."
"Yes, sir," Alan said with no small relief.
"And my responsibilities to Quentin?"
"Mister King and I have made arrangements for your services. Your past
loyalty to him concerns you no longer. You will make your haven here in
Europe for now. Jan will direct you."
Although Alan was facing Hardestadt and listening to the elder's every
word, he suddenly found it difficult to focus on what was being said.
Hardestadt's eyes drew Alan's mental focus down into their depths. When
Alan recovered his faculties, he found himself standing. Hardestadt and
Pieterzoon both stood as well. Had some intervening moment passed?
"Alan, only you, Jan and I will know of the status of these accounts
you will control," Hardestadt said. "In times of war, we leave nothing
to chance, including further treachery from any who claim to remain
loyal."
"Yes, sir." With that, Alan was dismissed to begin his duties and to
wonder what Hardestadt might have done inside his mind.
* * *
Sela chaffed at the Toreador's presence, but she had little choice but
to endure it. Barbaro had claimed that this Helena woman was the
perfect tool, and Sela's new master had confirmed it in the omens that
Sela was still learning to recognize as the way he communicated his
will to her. Sela despised Helena for the very reason that Helena was
perfect for the task ahead. Helena's blood was old and potent. It was
all too clear that Helena's age and lineage put her in a higher stratum
of power than Sela's own blood would ever allow. Perhaps that's why, in
the months they spent together below the streets of Rome, Sela found
herself dreaming of drinking Helena's heart's blood. She would imagine
the taste of the rich, warm flow in her mouth only to have her Beast
rise up within her, eager to make that dream a reality. Helena seemed
all too serenely aware of Sela's fantasy and her struggle with her
Beast, which made it all the more maddening to be around her.
Yet Sela did endure Helena's company. For nearly two months, she had
taught the Toreador the secret of the Lasombra, the command of shadows.
Sela had learned the art through so many trials that it annoyed her to
just give the knowledge to Helena on a silver platter. The ease with
which Helena mastered it only annoyed her further.
Admittedly, though, Sela had learned much from Helena as well during
those months. The Toreador implied that she once controlled Rome-if not
the whole Roman Empire. The elder Toreador's knowledge of Rome, at
least Rome as it once was, seemed without peer. Once Sela felt certain
that Helena had no desire to try to seize Rome as her own domain again,
she listened more carefully to how the Toreador had once pulled the
strings of power in the city. The strings had not changed so much from
ancient to modern nights that the usefulness of the lessons was lost on
Sela. During those months it also became clear to Sela how Barbaro
intended to bring Helena fully into their master's bondage. Sela saw
clearly what impassioned the Toreador and moved her beyond reason or
prudence. She knew what might even make the Toreador abandon her
unlife-perhaps even her soul. It was hate. Hate for the one she called
Menele, whom Kindred legend referred to as the childe of Troile. What
moved Helena to hate the ancient Brujah so intensely, however, Sela
could not fathom.
Yet Barbaro used that hate like a tool in a master sculptor's hands.
The impish man would stoke Helena's furor and other times call into
question the depth of that hatred. The hatred and the promise of
quenching her hate in Menele's blood proved a powerful motivator to
keep Helena focused on the course ahead.
When Sela finally had to admit that she had taught Helena all she could
of the Abyss, Barbaro revealed to them both a text he had found in the
Vatican archives. An ancient text of Abyssal Mysticism that might prove
to be the key to His prison.
------------------------
The results of the Infernal Plague story line are tallied. The Baali's
efforts to corrupt the other clans met with the most success among the
Toreador, who turned infernal (won more Infernal Plague tournaments as
infernalists) more than any other clan. Meanwhile, the Ventrue stood
their ground, reinforcing their position as the Clan of Kings, leading
the Camarilla efforts to thwart the infernal menace (and winning more
tournaments as non-infernalists than any other clan). The infernal
story line concludes with a sequel story-line tournament later this
year (details to be announced). The sequel story line will feature a
support kit complete with Toreador and Ventrue cards associated with
those clans' Infernal Plague victories and another surprise item not to
be missed!
