Tonight, the old general went through the motions of the hunt like a pale reflection of himself.
Tonight, he was worried, anxious, doubtful and lost in heavy thoughts. Sheffield felt the sin of pride hounding his footsteps. He was dead certain of his decision, but he couldn't help considering the price of failure. Could he shoulder the heritage of the Invictus into a new century? Was he wrong in overstepping the decisions of his covenant? Did he fail to see what was best for his troops?
He could almost feel the old Invictus crumbling right now. The Dracul would strike hard, fast and at a crucial point. He could have been a good soldier and stand by his comrades, but that early warning would only prolong the conflict between the covenants. The old general always prefered to search for the advantage before the actual engagement, even if he had to befriend an enemy.
The bloody mess on the floor was a testimony of the elder's power. He held Jacob in his arms and searched for something to say.
Alain spoke. "Inspite my years, I am always surprised to witness the power of destinies greater than mine. That's why I was willing to let them go unharmed."
He sheated his sabre. "Alas destiny is not so much foretold as it is shaped by man of ambition. These two may have a place among the accounts of the Black King, but I have plans of my own. Right now, they can lie in torpor and wait their turn."
With one more victim, Sheffield had satisfied his hunger and gained enough blood to share with his guests. Balancing thoughts between the shadows of the streets, he made his way home. He tried to judge how many years they would rest in torpor. This was a vulnerable time for young vampires, that period where one has already shed his humanity but has yet to embrace other, more appropriate, convictions.
Alice came closer. "My elder, are you going to simply hand them over to Mr. Sheffield after what they have done? While Ian confronted you, Jacob put a bullet into the sole purpose of this whole evening!"
The older vampire twitched for a second, but he already had a smile in his lips. "They will live only to return in time for our triumph." Alain took Ian in his arms.
"I can keep that one beside my dolls.", she mused.
"Sheffield will take responsability for both of them."
"I desire punishment!"
"Not so much as I do, priestess. What do you suggest?"
Ian and Jacob would probably be under his care for up to a decade. Perhaps he should consider approaching the Dracul after the pieces fall into place. With the Invictus disbanded, he wondered how the seats of power would be balanced between the Ordus and the Lancea. With time, his turn would come, his chance to return to the board and play out his strategy. Bran will return to reforge the Circle of the Crow and he will remake the Invictus under the shadow of his banner. That was how true power was held. Behind the throne.
"I shall take them with me downstairs for a brief lesson. Ian will learn the true beauty of the Nosferatu and Jacob will learn the price for seeing too much, too soon."
Sheffield hesitated. He would not risk an argument after such a chaotic scene. He needed time to read the elder's intentions.
Alain regarded both bodies with a blank expression and said only "very well".
This was not his most treasured manour in London, but it would have to suffice for now. If one is not playing the game, it is quite rude to call atention to oneself and very wise to exert an excess of caution. He checked the doors and the windows. Soon, he would go out to gather news, but right now the Dracul were flaring the flame on their breaths, wagging their tails, and getting blood on their talons. He expected that they would insure victory between a couple of nights. Meanwhile, he made sure his guests were confortable in their bedroom and gave them enough blood to set his mind at ease from worry for their wounds.