Chapter 16: Interlude: Legacy (LaCroix)

"Sebastian, you had promised the destruction of the Anarchs within California two years ago." Said Justicar Marcel Lachapelle, LaCroix's sire. They were in his penthouse suite, conversing with each other in French so that the Sheriff, nor the other Ventrue in the room understood what they were saying. Marcel understood the importance of appearances, even when scolding his childe.

"Of course, Justicar Lachapelle." LaCroix replied, his tone remaining meek, but even to give a dignified appearance among the other Ventrue. If he bled in front of them, they would close in like sharks. "My apologies, Justicar. Things are...not going as I had originally planned."

The Justicar's expression was unflinching, unchanging. He eyed LaCroix with dispassion, a look he rarely gave his childe.

"What are the obstacles to your plan, Archon?" He challenged. "When you make a commitment to take the capital of the Anarch Movement for the Camarilla within a year, it sounds promising. Ambitious, but promising. So I notify my superiors...and yet, you do not deliver. Are you aware of how this reflects upon the Ventrue?"

LaCroix paused, then nodded obediently. "Of course, Justicar. It is something I will be hoping to rectify-"

"Do not hope to rectify, Archon." The Justicar said, a subtle growl in his voice. "Successfully rectify. Or else it will be rectified for you."

"Yes, Justicar. What I mean to say is I cannot get the Camarilla to support the extermination of the resident Anarchs."

"And why not, Prince?" The Justicar emphasized "prince", pointing out that he shouldn't have to wrestle support in his own court.

LaCroix composed himself and said, "The Tremere Primogen, Maximilian Strauss, opposes the effort."

The Justicar narrowed his eyes. "Enough about the mages. Continue the extermination without his support. If he meddles, execute him."

"With all due respect, Sire, that would be suicide." LaCroix pointed out. "The Camarilla's position is already very sensitive as it is, with both the Anarchs and the Kuei-Jin opposing us. Strauss, untrustworthy as he may be, is very well-liked in our organization. Executing him would be sure to reduce social cohesion."

"Your Court is a mess." Justicar LaChapelle spat. That was the most hurtful thing he's said this night, and he's always been the "tough love" type. "Half of the clans lack Primogen. You have a Primogen for the Tremere and the Nosferatu, but where is your Malkavian Primogen? Still locked in his manor? What of your Toreador Primogen? Your Gangrel Primogen? Furthermore, you are constantly wrestling control from this Strauss character. None of your Primogen fear you enough, and I even hear that your Nosferatu Primogen sells secrets to the Anarchs! All because of the subversive efforts of a mage."

LaCroix had to remind himself that he couldn't make it look like he was getting yelled at. The other Ventrue in the room were staring at himself and the Justicar expectantly, waiting for them to say something.

"I have a plan." LaCroix said.

"Speak of this plan." His Sire ordered.

"I will employ the help of the Orientals." LaCroix said. "I will convince Ming Xao to ally with the Camarilla so that we may destroy Anarch presence within California. Once they are dealt with, I will steadily increase Camarilla presence, setting up principates within neighboring cities until the Kuei-jin are trapped. Then we will snuff them out."

"And how do you plan on doing this?"

"The Kindred I'd executed has a childe. I will use him to gain an artifact of sorts...this will give us the power to destroy the Kuei-jin once the Anarchs are dealt with."

The Justicar nodded once. "And if the mage seeks to subvert these efforts?"

"I have information that is quite compromising to the Tremere Clan as a whole that will allow me to twist his arm." LaCroix explained. "He will not stand against my efforts directly in fear of this news getting out. Any indirect efforts will be futile as long as I keep my intentions secret."

Finally, LaCroix's Sire smiled.

"I am glad my investment in you has not proven to be in vain." He said. "You are young, Sebastian. But ambitious. Intelligent. These traits are why I have embraced you into a clan such as ours. You are a conqueror. A leader. Let none stop you from bringing our clan to its rightful greatness."

LaCroix nodded. "Understood, Justicar."

"Now," Justicar Lachapelle said. "I will be returning within a few months. When I return, I want every last Brujah savage and Tremere leech to be ash in the wind. I want victory when I have returned, LaCroix, not failure. Not delays. I am reducing the time you are afforded to motivate you. Do you understand?"

LaCroix paled, but he nodded. "Understood, Justicar."

Justicar Marcel Lachapelle turned back to the Ventrue waiting to speak, putting on a perfect smile as if he wasn't just chewing LaCroix out. The Ventrue population within LA was very young, with none of them being lower than 9th Generation. LaCroix knew that not only was he in this to please his Sire and Justicar, but also to set an example of success among his clan brothers and sisters. If he is able to bring the Camarilla to prominence in none other than the Anarch capital of the United States, who knows? Maybe word will even reach the Inner Circle.

"My fellow Ventrue," The Justicar began, returning to English. "The situation may look dire for the Camarilla and, by extension, our clan, but your Prince will lead us to victory. The worst has passed us, brothers and sisters. Remain faithful in your Elder, and he will guide you."

All of the Ventrue nodded in agreement, and the Justicar then disappeared in thin air. LaCroix no longer felt the presence of his Sire, which meant he could relax. Or rather, he would be relaxing if not for the knock on his door.

"Come in." He told them.

In came Maximilian Strauss - speak of the devil - and his Magister, Kamala Al-Fasi. They both wore red coats with pendants hanging from their necks. LaCroix always found it disgusting that they would embrace their occult natures so openly, as if flaunting their hidden knowledge and power. As far as he was concerned, the Tremere were not vampires. They did not have ancestry going back to Caine. Their immortality was stolen, and treachery was in their blood. They're not to be trusted.

"My Prince, are we interrupting?" Strauss asked, his tone neutral as always, cold almost.

"Not at all, Primogen." LaCroix said. "In fact, we were just going to conclude our meeting. Ventrue, you may leave."

With that, the dozen or so Ventrue in the room walked out of the ivory doors of LaCroix's suite. The Prince sat down as Strauss approached. Kamala held something in her arms, something wrapped in a red and black leather coat. LaCroix recognized the coat, it was something that Justine wore often. He had heard it had enchantments on it to give it supernatural properties, the details of which he wasn't privy to.

"Thank you, Kamala." LaCroix said politely.

"If I may ask, my Prince…" Strauss began, "Why had you ordered Justine's things be bought to you? I assure you, we are fully capable of disposing of it ourselves."

"I plan on gifting them to her childe as a gesture of goodwill." LaCroix explained. "It is in our interest to show him the perks of joining our organization, no? Or he will fall prey to the pathos of the Anarch Movement. Or worse, the Sabbat."

Strauss' eyebrows furrowed. "My Prince, as your advisor, I recommend you do not do that. Justine Sanders was a Magister, and within that book is magic that is very advanced. Nothing that a fledgeling such as Algernon Blake should have access to."

LaCroix tilted his head. Interesting. He could tell there was something the Regent wasn't telling him, but he didn't know what. Either way, the fact that he didn't want Algernon to come into possession of Justine's belongings was reason enough for him to do it. The fledgeling was a rogue element in LaCroix's plans, but he was fairly confident that he can control him long enough to have him killed when he is no longer useful. The less easy it would be for the likes of Strauss to gain control of him, the better.

"I have considered your concern." The Prince said. "And I have still elected to give the fledgeling Justine's belongings for the reasons I've already stated. His access to powerful blood sorceries should not be an issue, as our spies in Santa Monica have said he displays an uncanny proficiency with it already, even without training."

Strauss paled. Ah-ha. He was trying to gain control of the fledgeling.

"Besides…" LaCroix continued, his voice dripping with more contempt than he intended. "I am sure your clan has mechanisms in place to train a fledgeling such as him?"

"Of course, my Prince." Strauss said, bowing his head.

"Wonderful." LaCroix said. "Now, Primogen, do you have any further business here this evening?"

Strauss shook his head. "No, my Prince. We will leave you to your matters."

LaCroix nodded. "Good evening, Primogen Strauss, Harpy Al-Fasi."

They both bowed at the same time, saying in unison, "Good evening, my Prince."

And then they left.

LaCroix eyed the belongings of Justine Sanders with distaste. Bloody Tremere and their black magicks. Untrustworthy, all of them. With curiosity, he opened the black coat that covered the objects within, and he saw a black leather satchel and a large book bound in leather with a strange symbol on it - Justine's grimoire. He ran his fingers along the spine of the book, gazing at it with something between awe and disgust. The powers of the Tremere have always been mysterious, and they're arguably the only reason they are part of the Camarilla. LaCroix had to admit, there was something seductive about such power…

Seeking to sate his curiosity, he tried to open it. The book reactive negatively, with red-black sparks shooting forth from the book and shooting up LaCroix's arm, causing enough pain to make him yelp. He quickly jerked his hand back, angry, and looked around. Nobody was in the room except his Sheriff, who stood motionless beside him. He wasn't even reacting. Sebastian calmed himself and smoothed over his blonde hair, covering the book.

"Bloody Tremere leeches." He muttered to himself

Just then, he got a phone call. He answered it, seeing that it was from his ghoul that worked in the docks by Santa Monica.

"LaCroix." The Prince answered.

"Yes, sir?" The man, Gonzales, answered on the other side. "We have confirmed that the Elizabeth Dane will be arriving within a few nights, sir."

LaCroix smiled. Finally some good news. "That is excellent to hear, Mr. Gonzalez. When it arrives, I want you to delay its unloading once it arrives long enough for me to have an agent extract the cargo."

"Of course, sir. Will that be all?"

"Yes."

The Prince hung up. He looked out of his large window out to Los Angeles, the City of Angels, and soon the new seat of power for the Ventrue. After LA, then Hollywood, then San Diego, Sacramento, and San Francisco - though dealing with the mage problem over there may prove difficult. Nevertheless, LaCroix was willing to do whatever it took to rise to prominence, even if he had to break the fundamental laws of his organization. After all, the Ventrue predated the Camarilla, they made the Camarilla, and it will not play a secondary role to the clan.

With Sebastian's plan, Los Angeles will be his.

All his.