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"Now then," Bouchard continues. "You'll be wanting some useful information from me." He doesn't wait for you to respond. "There have been two unusual sightings in the last week. The Anarchs have been spotted twice, but that shouldn't be a surprise after last night, but the Tremere—"

"Tremere?" you repeat, your interest piqued.

"Yeah. One of my boys saw a whole mess of them crawling through the muck beneath Parliament Hill. There's not really any rule against it, but the Prince made it clear that he wasn't keen on anyone using those tunnels. I sent Thompson up with a report for Arundel, but he told me the Prince wasn't receiving visitors. Can't say I didn't try to let him know. Still, I don't think it's a huge deal. What would Tremere be doing if they weren't poking their noses into old piles of shit? It's what they do. Anyway, that's about it. The one that saw them didn't get names, and he's not really good with faces."

"Interesting," you say, pondering the relevance of this revelation.

"What's more interesting is that your sire was with those Tremere we saw. I've kept that info close to my chest—Corliss doesn't know that I know. She's been chumming around with the warlocks even after Arundel's policies made them quit Ottawa. Fascinating, isn't it?"

"That may prove useful," you say. "Thank you."

"May it be the first in a long series of mutual exchanges," the elder says as he stands up behind his desk. "I should make sure you get back to the surface safely." It seems somewhat abrupt, but it looks like your meeting is at its conclusion.

"No need," you reply with a respectful nod. "I can find my way." You approach the front door and pull it open. The stench of the sewer hits you like a wall of bricks.

"Mekuztli!" Bouchard calls out from behind you. "Do give my regards to your sire. Eden is welcome in my domain any time."

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