New York, New York August 7, 2005 12:45 Am

I exit the Casino via the private elevator, heading through the garage towards my car. Taking precautions like these has become second nature in the last month or so, since my hidden enemy has decided to step their game to another level. It is a foolish one of course. And frankly rather stupid, so I can only think the person behind it is likewise incredibly foolish and stupid or there is some other motivation for it.


Yes, lets pin an entire investigation on a man who doesn’t exist, with falsified evidence, and then drag federal authorities into it. So that the taxpayers won’t become angry of course when your little manhunt doesn’t find him, since, well he doesn’t exist. Oh, never mind the fact that the person who you are trying to pin all of this on moves constantly, can turn invisible, and is able to sway the emotions and desires of those he meets, and has potent allies who are intelligent in varied arenas. Brilliant strategy.

I want to believe it is Heinrich or his legacy, and perhaps the sheer stupidity of the plan does suggest the involvement of that slightly above retarded creature, Husk. But is it really that family? If it is then they have chosen poorly. This issue could be construed as an attempt to breach our Masquerade for personal benefit, and there will be little mercy for whomever it is when they are caught. Husk will go to Simon regardless. A gift to my mentor for his instruction, it is the least I can do.

Reaching my car I open the door and slide behind the wheel. The rest of Elysium seemed to go well. Or as well as could be expected. I had hoped to announce my taking of the praxis of Hartford after the Court had been more completely assembled. In the end though it worked in my favor, giving me a means to gauge responses in various individuals before asking them to serve me. As of now only two places remain unfilled. Interestingly they are two vital ones, and often ones which work at cross-purposes.

Seneschal and Harpy. It feels good to say the words, the formal titles of our society. None of this ridiculous nonsense of sachems and whatever else. Thankfully I sense those days are numbered in the northeast. For whatever reason the title of Cardinal is an exception to my normally conservative view on these things. Perhaps it is that in general I have met strong examples of these figures in my years, despite some of their eventual falls from power and even deaths. Or perhaps it is some waning remnant of Lafayette’s tampering with my memories.

The city rushes by as I head out towards the airport. I need to collect my items from Simon’s before heading northward. At least the others whom I have asked to stand with me have agreed. I need to have everything in readiness for the transition.

Dorien as Keeper of Elysium should be a good fit. He appears to have a sound idea of what changes need to be made already. I must remember to help him gather the resources he needs to acquire our new location. My connection to the Ordo Dracul remains strong with him, and hopefully my brother can serve as a mentor for him in terms of hosting an Elysium. And should he step out of line a quiet word to Evelyn should help put it right.

I wonder if anyone really understands her place in all of this? Perhaps I need to remind her that I do, and that it is appreciated more than I probably show.

Pawel will do fine in the office of Sheriff. And with his placement I give my nod of respect to Cardinal Dirae and his Covenant, both as Prince and as a member of the First Estate. He has a decent head for tasks, and with a little guidance from myself once in a while I suspect that few will seek to violate my laws. The people need to believe there is an alternative to the sword, even when that alternative is simply silk over steel. Unlike my father, I see the need to have a position such as this, distinct from the angel of death that is a Hound.

Thinking about the Hound - the little monster that is Novak already hunts for me, though he does not know it. I give to a Crone the power that was used against that Covenant for so long. The power to track and kill the enemies of the State. For now the leash on my hunter needs to be slack. There are many dangers to eliminate in the course of establishing my rule. And it will take all the ruthlessness that can be mustered to do the job.

Already I know that there will be those who do not agree with my tactics. I will demand unswerving loyalty from those that call Hartford home. I am no shepherd tending a flock as Heinrich saw himself. Nor a man of the people, as was Marcel. I am a Saint George, though not one who chose the self-obsessed road of the Dragon. I wanted the mantle of leadership, the Invictus. For me, to answer the call I hear to protect the society in which we live, there was only that choice. And in the end the best place to do that is from the apex of the social order.

I needed to become...I am now, their Prince. One who must wear at all times the masks of warrior, scholar, and king. One who becomes such a ruler bears the power of the State made manifest. Holds the right over the basic necessities of existence – territory to hunt, gift of the Embrace, and power of destruction.

And yet, even in all this I cannot allow the title to consume who I am. And for that I have the person who holds no title, save soon that of my wife. In her I trust to always remind me that a Prince must also know mercy and compassion, in balance with strength and punishment. I trust her to remind me of why I do this, and what in the end my desires are. To question when no one else can. I trust her to give me truth when all others offer nothing but lies.

The car takes the exit ramp smoothly, and in a few moments I pull it to a stop in order to walk the rest of the way unseen. Another precaution made necessary by this plot against me. Tomorrow, I will fulfill a final obligation as a footsoldier and a student. One last mission before I become more than a Prince in name only. Fittingly I do this for the Invictus and the Tribe and the Design, all of which figure to be important in the new life I am crafting.

I only wish I was more than one night returned to freedom in the Kindred world before it, and my love, must be left behind to deal with this threat to the future. At least I was able to meet Rebecca’s childe, Danica. So very much like I imagine her sire was centuries ago. My fiancée is blessed in her childer it would seem. And it was pleasing to see Kent’s masterful move, a stroke of damn political genius, and an opportunity for me to gain two allies.

Father was right, there was a kind of death in what was heard during the moments after the former Seneschal finished speaking, in the following whispers, and even in the silences. It is a sound every Kindred knows, or should come to know, in their unlives.

Death is change...and there is much of both coming. Much more.