Rather quickly, the three vampires become enmeshed in their own conversation, separate from their familiars. Both you and Melissa move around the table to take seats next to Rose, picking plates for yourself as you go.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the bustier woman presents a hand, presumably for you to kiss, though you just look in her eyes and give it a shake. Awkwardly, she withdraws the limb, though the other girl laughs at the interaction. “Either way, the name’s Melissa Frémont, no relation. I am a secretary for the Diocesan Treasurer, as you know.”

“Bartholomew Sinclair, I’m a type of lawman, along with Wiktoria, been all over the West at this point,” you introduce yourself.

“Rose Maddigan,” the third familiar introduces herself with a bow of her head. Her soft blonde hair bounces as she does so, still wavy despite being held in a pair of ponytails, and her light green eyes, set in a pale, freckled face, soon rise to meet yours. “Isaac Moorehead is my partner, he’s a Bellator for the Primate, so we’ve traveled quite a lot as well.”

You’re surprised that a Primature-level official is here, as Wiktoria has told you how few and far between they are, considering the small sizes of the upper strata of vampire society. Granted, ‘Bellator’ is just a fancy word for soldier, so Isaac likely fills a similar purpose to Wiktoria, just with less investigation and more autonomy. The Primate is somewhere on the East Coast though, so it’s interesting one of their men would be all the way out here.

“We’re not both fighters, not like you two seem to be,” Rose continues, “I’m more of a nurse, actually.”

“Yeah, I tend to do a lot of the heavy liftin,” you confirm. “Wiktoria can handle herself pretty well in a fight, but she does like to hang back more. Fits her style better, I’m handy with a knife and especially a gun.”

Both women nod, though Melissa seems somewhat uncomfortable with this line of conversation. “Whereabouts are you headed after this?” She asks both Rose and yourself.

“Don’t know yet,” you inform her, “we’re actually here to see the Prelate, probably get our next assignment from ‘er.”

“Isaac and I are headed north, into Canada,” Rose tells you, her cheery tone faltering. “Somewhere up in the Northwest Territory, there’s been a lot of werewolf activity there, from the natives. Isaac says his orders are to remind them of the Compact.”

You nod, it makes sense they would stop in Carpathia on their way north, it’s probably the last bit of vampire civilization this far north and west.

“What about you, Melissa?” You turn the question back on the other familiar, considering she’s the only one who has what must be an office job.

“We’re returning to Salt Lake City,” she confirms your suspicions. “Then I will likely be traveling to California with a lower-ranked Conspector to collect for the Treasury.”

“You said you’d traveled a lot, Rose, any interesting stories you can share?” You prod the younger familiar.

“Ah, I’m not sure, honestly,” the blush turns her freckles even redder. “A lot of what we do is classified, at least, that’s what I’m told.”

You’d share some of your own war stories, but it doesn’t appear as if either of the ladies is interested.

Almost an hour of not much more than small talk later, Marlow enters the dining room, his eyes instantly focusing on Wiktoria. “You’d better go up,” he advises, “she just threw out the courier.”

The Prelate’s office and chambers occupy the entirety of the third floor, with only a small antechamber at the top of the staircase reserved for guests. Even though you’re expected, and there is nobody currently with the prelate, the heavy double doors to her office remain closed. After a minute or two of waiting, Wiktoria sucks in a deep breath and uses the heavy brass knocker to bang on the door thrice.

“Come in,” the soft voice of a young ghoul calls out, and you push open the door for your partner.

The office is huge, lavishly decorated with a rich old world carpet covering the floor, and old paintings of people you could’ve even begin to identify adorning the walls. The ceiling and walls are both covered in carved wooden paneling, and a suit of armor stands on either side of the giant mahogany desk against the back wall. The back wall, which is directly above that of the kitchen, features a window which takes up most of the wall. This window, strangely, is uncovered by drapes, those having been pulled back and sashed in such a way to hold them open. The sunlight streaming in doesn’t reach all the way to the doorway thanks to the angle of the sun, but it does reach almost halfway across the room, well past the pair of chairs which face the desk.

Behind the desk, utterly contrasted by the scale of her office, is the Prelate. Seemingly immune to the deleterious effects of the sun, she practically basks in it, though it’s stripped off the veneer of humanity she could usually project.

“Viscountess Cecília Sarolta Szentgyorgyi-Dercsika es Bos, Prelate of the Trans-Mississippi Diocese,” Wiktoria announces her boss, and you both bow to her. “My assignment has been completed.”

“Conspecta Wiktoria Ostorog Rydz-Nowici, have a seat,” Cecília extends a pallid hand, indicating the chairs on the other side of her desk. The Prelate would almost be a comedic sight, if she didn’t radiate malevolent power. Physically, she’s even younger than Wiktoria, slightness in her figure and limbs evident even under her dark canvas jacket and velvet dress. Her skin is paper white, though devoid of any vascularity, presenting a completely uniform color across her arms and face. Her fingernails are more normal than Wiktoria’s though still sharp, and painted in gold. Her features are delicate, but not gaunt, with a small nose and thin upper lip, with both her lips being slightly greyer than her skin, with almost a blue tint to them. Her long, straight platinum hair hangs almost to the floor, brushed over one of the arms of her high-backed, carved and cushioned chair. The most striking thing about the Prelate are her eyes, the irises, which seemingly take up too much space in her already big eyes, are the color and texture of molten gold, and you’re sure that while she’s looking at you you can see that molten gold flowing, her pupils are no less strange, being small, amorphous red dots in the middle of the pools of molten gold. “Come, tell me of your assignment, I wish to hear the specifics.”

Wiktoria eyes the seats, completely bathed in sunlight, warily, not yet moving.

This reaction makes her boss scoff, “Just sitting there and talking will not exhaust you, nor will it starve you.” She puts force behind her next request, something like a hiss underlying her tone, “Come. Sit.”

You both do, and as you do so, another ghoul servant comes forward and pours a glass of white wine from a strange looking bottle for each of you. “Have a drink as well,” the Prelate offers, and the servant slides them across the desk. Wiktoria looks at hers with a sneer, and you pick yours up, giving it a sniff.

It smells fruity, but not delicate, and somewhat sweet. Seeing Cecília take a drink, you do as well. It is fruity, with notes of citrus and sugar, but it isn’t overpowering, and has a nice minerality to it. You’re not a big wine drinker, but you take a second drink before setting it down.

“Go ahead,” the Prelate prods, clearly taking satisfaction in watching your partner squirm. “I would be quite offended if you did not partake. This wine is, after all, Hungarian.” She finishes her glass, and makes a show of having it refilled.

Wiktoria, nose curled, takes a sip.

“Now then, with the pleasantries out of the way, please inform me how your mission went. Either of you,” she leans forward, resting her chin on interlocked fingers, molten gold eyes boring into you.

>Let Wiktoria tell the whole story, she’s the Conspecta after all, you’re just her familiar. She’s been at this for a while, so she’ll know what details to include and leave out.

>Share the duty of retelling the story with Wiktoria, you were both involved, both of you investigated the goings-on in Almy, and both of you fought the Strigoi and Moroi.

>Tell the Prelate what happened by yourself. Wiktoria isn’t overly fond of her, so she’ll assent to that, and you can take any heat she dishes out, if she has any particularly strong criticism.

>>5426615
>Share the duty of retelling the story with Wiktoria, you were both involved, both of you investigated the goings-on in Almy, and both of you fought the Strigoi and Moroi.

>>5426619
>Let Wiktoria tell the whole story, she’s the Conspecta after all, you’re just her familiar. She’s been at this for a while, so she’ll know what details to include and leave out.

>Let Wiktoria tell the whole story, she’s the Conspecta after all, you’re just her familiar. She’s been at this for a while, so she’ll know what details to include and leave out.
I'm unsure what we'd tell that would piss off the Tangerine Midget, but better safe than sorry.
If anything unmentioned seems vital we could prod her on it anyway.

>>5426619
>Share the duty of retelling the story with Wiktoria, you were both involved, both of you investigated the goings-on in Almy, and both of you fought the Strigoi and Moroi.

Boss lady did ask for both of us to talk. But let Wiktoria take the lead.

>>5426619
>>Let Wiktoria tell the whole story, she’s the Conspecta after all, you’re just her familiar. She’s been at this for a while, so she’ll know what details to include and leave out.

>>5426619
>Let Wiktoria tell the whole story, she’s the Conspecta after all, you’re just her familiar. She’s been at this for a while, so she’ll know what details to include and leave out

June 10th, 1884
Carpathia, Montana Territory

You share a side-eye with Wiktoria, who gives you a minute nod to tell you she understands. Instead of standing, as one usually would when reporting to a superior, she simply leans forward and folds her hands in her lap. It’s more of a gesture of submission than any kind of formal attention. “We arrived in the area the reports came from on the afternoon of Thursday, the twenty-ninth. Bartholomew dealt with a group of the bandits before the sun set, and we tracked their origin back to Almy, a small mining town in the hills along the Wyoming territory’s western border.”

“How did this gang compare to the rest of the group, in appearance, composition,” Cecília’s pupils dart over to you, though her irises remain fixed, as if she were looking at the both of you, “and strength?”

“They were…” Wiktoria thinks for a moment, though she keeps her ticks in check under the glare of her superior. “They were around average, based on the strength of the others we encountered. And, much like the group in Almy, the gang we encountered in Farson were a mix of nosferatu and padfoots. There were only a handful of kluddes, and a single strigoi in Almy itself, along with the moroi. As for appearance, there was a mix of very unkempt American whites along with some Indians, in both the smaller gang and the nest itself.”

“Very interesting,” the Prelate grins, showing the lengthened double incisors that are her fangs, ivory teeth in blue lips on paper skin. “You said a moroi? That would only be the third in North America, and the first on this side of the Mississippi. I take it you did not have the chance to determine its origin, or that of its progenitor.”

Wiktoria shakes her head, “the strigoi crumbled to dust when it was slain, I could not use my psychometry on it.”

“The filthy sack with your personal effects would be the moroi’s head then? Were you able to read that?” Cecília punctuates her question by pouring herself another glass of wine, forcing Wiktoria to sit in awkward silence, as the other girl clearly isn’t finished talking. “Or were you perhaps unable to, on the road as you were?”

“It felt unwise to do so on the road, the beast clearly thought in a very different manner to us, and I had no way of knowing its age. Nor what to search for,” Wiktoria doesn’t squirm when a smaller, more smug smirk replaces Cecília’s grin, but you can tell that she’d like to. “I had thought to ask for your permission to delve into the information within the head while under your roof. Before we leave on another assignment, if possible.”

“I do think that can be arranged,” the Prelate says, sipping her wine. “Now, onto the boring part, though so far I must say you have raised my spirits after the news delivered by the previous courier.”

Wiktoria gets into the mundane part of the report, allowing you to cut in and offer details she left out at times, and it takes the better part of an hour to go over everything.

“Very good, the Diocese thanks you for your service,” Cecília angles herself forward to lean onto her desk, propping herself up on one forearm. “Rydz-Nowici, you have until this Saturday before you are given your next assignment. My servants will prepare a room for you, but do apportion your time wisely.” Wiktoria nods, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, the other vampire continues, “You may go. Both of you.”

You follow Wiktoria’s lead, standing and bowing your heads before making your way to the door.

“Oh,” you both freeze at the reverberation in the Prelate’s voice, “and Wiktoria, do not be a stranger while you’re here.”

“I-” Wiktoria sucks a breath in, having been caught totally off guard, “I won’t be, thank you again, Prelate.”

Once the heavy wooden doors of the Prelate’s office slam shut, Wiktoria exhales even heavier than she had inhaled, and slumps down into one of the over-plump velvet chairs which sit against the walls of the antechamber. “That went,” she sighs again, it’s weird seeing a vampire trying to catch her breath, but that’s what’s happening in front of you. “That went well, actually, better than I would have thought,” her voice is low, making sure she can’t be heard through the door.

“You think?” You have to ask, the atmosphere in the Prelate’s office was oppressive and cold.

Your partner nods, “Yes, yes, the Prelate can be quite unpredictable, and capricious. I am surprised she was in such a good mood, considering Marlow told us she had received bad news.”

“So, what now? Want to get some shut-eye?”

“No, I shall start probling the head of the moroi. You should get some rest, but I do not need any yet. I am quite full, and rested.”

“Alright,” you give her a hand up, making your way down the stairs together, “I’ll catch some rest, we can meet up tomorrow.”

“That sounds good,” Wiktoria lets you go with a nod, heading back to the first floor to leave the manor.

You get the attention of one of the Prelate’s ghouls and get them to show you to the room you’ll be staying in.

Like the rest of the manor, the room you and Wiktoria will be staying in together is decorated expensively. A pair of chairs and a table are set up next to the window which overlooks the pasture to the left of the house, the chairs are cushioned with dark purple velvet and made of the same lacquered wood as the table, which is set with a lit candelabra. The beds, their frames also that lacquered dark wood, are dressed in the same rich purple, with black sheets.

It’s not your style, but you won’t pass up a warm bed after all the action and riding of the past few weeks. Sleep finds you quickly.

Thankfully, it’s a dreamless sleep.

When you wake up early the next morning, Wiktoria still isn’t there, though all of your things are.

>Go see Wiktoria, maybe you can help her piece together whatever information she can glean from the head.

>Seek out one of the other vampire-familiar pairs, you’d like to learn more about the parts of vampire society you aren’t directly involved in. It’s not that Wiktoria doesn’t inform you of things, but you are curious. (Which pair? Matthias and Melissa, the Treasurers; or Isaac and Rose, the Bellators.)

>Cecília told Wiktoria not to be a stranger, but she didn’t say the same to you. Though you are still interested in her, she’s a very different type of vampire than you’re used to, and clearly experienced in vampire society. You’d like to see if you can’t meet with her.

>Spend some time on your own, clearing your head. You haven’t really had any time just to think and practice since you got off the train in Wyoming.


Sorry for the wait all, a combo of work and just plain writer's block.

Is the white wine in question Tokaji Aszu? Because it sure sounds like it from the flavor profile.

>>5436585
>Spend some time on your own, clearing your head. You haven’t really had any time just to think and practice since you got off the train in Wyoming.

>>5436585
>>Cecília told Wiktoria not to be a stranger, but she didn’t say the same to you. Though you are still interested in her, she’s a very different type of vampire than you’re used to, and clearly experienced in vampire society. You’d like to see if you can’t meet with her.

>>5437289
Support