he first thing we teach our childer within the Camarilla is "Thou shalt not reveal thy true nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so shall renounce thy claims to the Blood." The First Tradition. The principle upon which we have based our culture. Looking out over the city of Raleigh, I understand why.
The former Camarilla residents of this city did not mind the tenets of our history. They never listened to the story of the "Burning Times". Under the final princedom, violations of the Masquerade were frequent and often unchecked. A grasping, bloodthirsty Malkavian Methuselah with no concern for mortal eyes was only the final straw that broke the camel's back. If I could write one thing clearly with a pen on the cover of the Book of Nod, it would be, "The children of Caine should ever be wary of the eyes of the children of Seth".
The hunters came after Saul had passed. There were as many types of them as there were methods, but they came almost as a silent horde. Kindred were killed as they slept. Others, finding their havens burnt down and their affairs in mortal society ripped away, simply left. Some fought and lived, only to flee from the name of God. Some fought and died. Yet, after a short time, they were all gone. I dare them to speak of our immortality and godlike powers now, in the face of this.
Yet, this city is worth saving. The Sabbat moves forward even now. Packs of inhuman beasts roam from city to city, destroying coteries and Camarilla holdings. Mortals are no more than wheat to be threshed and cattle to be slaughtered. Can they, however, reach the heart of a state that has become festered with hunters guarding vigilantly? Can they still act under the watchful eye of some higher being, call it God or what have you? We think not. So, with the permission of my elders and the blessings of both a Toreador and Malkavian archon, it begins.
Even now, the Assamites have slipped into the city. Those who know too much shall perish over the coming weeks. The assassins prove their worth and loyalty to the Camarilla. They turned to the Giovanni for information on where to find targets, yet it is a necessary evil. What other clan besides the Necromancers could find these things so quickly or accurately? However, that is only the beginning.
On the outskirts of the city the Brujah and the divided Gangrel clan wage silent war on what few Lupines and their kin remain. Shielded and protected by the Nosferatu clan, the effort goes smoothly with only a few losses on our side. Tensions rise between the hot-blooded get of Troile and the clan of the Beast, but the Nosferatu moderate the two with strong leadership.
The Tremere have begun dealing with more troublesome inquisitors and the small infernal presence. It is on this front that I have seen strange allies. The Setites have appeared mysteriously, as they always do, bearing information on a demonic presence that escape during the Saul debacle. The Warlocks assure me that they will soon have destroyed the demon, and the Setites of course have offered to help. The Tremere have also found the Serpents useful in, "eroding the powers of the truly faithful inquisitors." I can only imagine what that means.
The Toreador, my bretheren, work with the Ventrue as usual. We play a deadlier game than usual, entering back into the political structure. Each domino has finally been laid and soon they will be set falling. When they reach the end, the city's influences and affairs should be a clean slate. Some political figures and businessmen began to see the true face of the world during the last Camarilla reign. The useful are being pocketed, and the useless… I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirtied if I must to save the lives of Kindred.
Yet the most surprising effort comes from the Mad Ones. The Malkavian clan has made a unified effort in repairing the deeds of the past. Some feel they owe us for Saul's handiwork. Some just want to prove themselves. Either way, they serve as liaisons between clans and some of the primary strategic minds. They guide here and there, subtly helping each clan with their task. Many have taken Caitiff under their wing to help out. The Clanless are not proving useless. They once thought this place a city where they could be equals, the fight to save a dream.
Myself? I do all that I can. I'm on every front, at every line that I can be. If I am to be Prince of the City, I had best earn it in their eyes. The eyes of my brethren. I look out over the city again. I see the fires spawned by this brief reflection of the Burning Times begin to fade. The ashes begin to fall to the ground, and the dust begins to settle.
