Vampire: The Requiem - Lordenshaw Opera House (Elysium)

[Loredoctor]

Please post in here for Stories relating to Lordenshaw Opera House.

[Jonathan Belmont]

As they turned the corner and the well-lit façade of the Lordenshaw Opera House came into view, Jonathan adjusted his cuff-links and made sure his tie was on straight.

The suit, which was more expensive that even his parents could ever have afforded, had been a gift from a lady in her late thirties, a thank-you for the hours of pleasure they had shared. It was immaculately cut in a classic style, the kind that very rarely went out of fashion. It had been a while since he had worn it - the last time was at least six months before he met Mina.

She walked beside him along the street, holding his arm, while they both looked the part, she exuded a calm confidence that left her childer feeling clumsy and tongue-tied. She had assured him that the same would come to him with time, that he would grow into it over the long years of his Requiem. He hoped she was right.

As they neared the Opera House, Mina slowed her pace ever so slightly and spoke to him softly, without turning her head. "They will all be watching tonight, Jon. Scythia. Nwoso. Teufel. Roland, and Pyotr, if he even shows up. And definitely Lydia. The Harpy always likes to know what I'm up to. Don't let it worry you, but be very aware of it. I'll help you where I can, but you won't get another chance to make a first impression."

"I know", he whispered in reply as they passed the marble steps of the Police Headquarters. "Believe me, I know."

[Loredoctor]

Traffic roared by, horns blaring and red and white lights streaking by. Nina and Jonathan walked purposefully through a crowd of business people, lawyers, and self-important individuals. A homeless man, his face scarred, and riddled with grief, held out a pan with a few coins desolately scattered in it. No one stopped by him, and not a few glared at him.

Looming over everyone, the marble and brick structure of the police headquarters seemed an archaic and impressive monument. In the distance, the tall glass and steel Opera House sat in stark contrast - an edifice of the modern age. Some vehicles were stopping near the silver entrance, and valets opened the doors for some well-dressed figures. A few other figures walked confidently from the street through the same doors.



Jonathan could feel Mina tense her arm around his. "Jon, the Invtictus just arrived. Let's slow down, as I am no mood to speak with them right now. I know I'm going to have to face them anyway, but I'd rather we wait a while.

"Tell me what happened last night, darling."

[Jonathan Belmont]

"I went to a frat party, of all things", Jonathan chuckled. Some guy I met at The Embrace last week invited me, so I thought I go, have a more leisurely feed for a change."

Mina's laughter rippled through the night. "Oh Jon", she chided good-naturedly, with a mischievous smile. "You're still so young, aren't you?"

"Hey", he exclaimed with obviously feigned defensiveness, "I had fun, and I managed to feed twice without any problem."

"Really? Well, I must say I'm very impressed."

"Yeah, yeah, yea, make all the fun you want then", Jon grinned at his sire, but then his face grew serious. "It wasn't a totally uneventful night though."

"Oh? How so?"

"I'd just finished with my second meal and I was coming out of the bedroom when I pretty much ran into someone. Another Kindred."

"Anyone you knew?"

"No. I'd never met him before, but he kinda creeped me out. It was like he'd been waiting for me in the hall. He told me that he'd killed the girl I fed off at the start of the night - 'finished her off' I think he said - but when I checked it turned out he was lying and she was still alive. All he'd done was feed off her as well."

"That's a little odd."

"I thought so too. He went on about how I was too attached to my mortal life, and how the problem with the twenty-first century is that it doesn't give us the freedom to be true hunters. He name was Henri Rôdeur. Do you know him?"

[Loredoctor]

Mina pulled her arm away from Jonathan's and crossed her arms under her breasts. She looked away for a moment and then stared into his eyes. "Henri Rôdeur," she repeated softly. "That's another name I do not recognise, Jon. In the last month or so, my contacts have been telling me about Kindred new to the city. I'm worried that so many vampires are arriving, and not announcing themselves to a Regent or the Prince.

"Henri may appear at the gathering tonight, although Guttermouth may not have him on his database."

She leaned forward and placed her head on Jonathan's shoulder, and she stroked his hair softly. "Just be careful," she sighed. "I have enough enemies in the Invictus covenant, and don't need to face a stranger. But I am sure you will learn in time, Jon. I have faith in you."

[Jonathan Belmont]

"Aw, come on Mina. You know I'm always careful", said Jonathan soothingly, trying to lighten her mood. "And anyway, you know you can run circles around most of the Invictus, and I'm sure Lydia would agree to bury the hatchet long enough to help you bring down Henrietta Aphese."

This earned him a playful shove and a giggle from Mina. "There is nothing in all the world that you could give me to convince me to agree to that alliance."

"I know. Just getting all the silly jokes out of the way out here. I don't think they'll be appropriate inside."

"No, I don't imagine they will be." Smiling, Mina took help of Jonathan's arm once more and they slowly continued down the street, although she now had a faraway look in her eyes. "I'm hoping Lydia will distract them tonight - she's certainly loud enough for the job. Why Scythia chooses to trust her is anyone's guess."

"You don't think she's an asset to the Hierophant?"

"Oh no, she certainly serves a valuable purpose, but she's loyal to herself and no one else. Every Kindred she elevates, every reputation she ruins, it's all for her own benefit, and she's not particularly subtle about it either. At least she never used to be.

"Unlike Henrietta and Nwoso then?"

"Quite. Henrietta can still be rather predictable - her pride always seems to lead her down the same old paths - but Markus is truly an enigma. He'll be the very soul of gentility tonight, but I don't plan to turn my back on him for a second, and neither should you. Henrietta will be rude and, if she gets in a bad mood, a little shrill, but she would never try anything at Court."

They walked on in silence for a moment before Jonathan spoke again.

"So will you mention this Henri Rôdeur to the Hierophant?"

[Loredoctor]

"One can never tell with Hierophant Scythia," the title 'hierophant' seemed distasteful to Mina when she said it. "I could mention it to her, but her reaction could go one of two ways . . . or both ways. She could demand that Henri be brought to her and made, or forced, to agree to the rules of Kindred society here. Or, she may erupt and order his death for transgressing territory. And that is of extreme importance to us, Jon." She cast a meaningful gaze at him.

The pair reached the end of the road, which formed a t-junction. Ahead was the opera house, its lights dimmed or turned off. As they waited at the pedestrian crossing, Mina resumed speaking. "That's why I embraced you, Jon. I know of no one who could do better than you playing the game. In fact, I want you to do most of the speaking. I will introduce you to some of the power players, but this is your chance to show me how words and information can be your weapons."

The cars slowed to a stop and the walk sign lit up with a lurid green colour. "Even if it means making Lydia sweat," Mina said with grin filled with malice.

[Jonathan Belmont]

"He did say he'd be here tonight. Maybe he'll present himself and the whole issue will be moot. I have some suspicions about him though, which I'll be investigating further if he chooses to remain quiet."

"Secrets already, Jon? You are a chip off the old block, if I do say so myself."

"Not secrets as such. I just don't want to say anything when all I've got to go on is a hunch."

"I understand. I'll await the results of your investigations then."

As they stepped off the road and back on to the side walk in front of the Opera house, Jonathan commented, "You know, I've wondered why you and Lydia aren't close. You both left the Invictus, so you have something in common."

Mina looked at him incredulously and then shook her head and laughed softly. "You'll understand better when you meet her in person, and when you see the way she acts around Scythia. Now stop playing, it's time to get to work. Are you ready?"

"I don't think that anything in life could have prepared me for this, but I'm never going to be any more ready than I am right now. Shall we?"

"Yes, I think we shall", replied Mina, as they entered the Opera House.

[Loredoctor]

A man dressed in a black, pin-striped suit and wearing immaculate white gloves smiles artificially as he opens the tall, silver doors. "Madame and monsieur" he says with a polite nod. "Welcome."

Jonathan and Mina enter the foyer. One side of the wide and open chamber has a glass and metal wall, the middle of which contains the entrance. The wall opposite the entrance is made of wooden panels, where soft amber and white lights are cupped in delicate ceramic bowls. The wide and open floorspace is covered in deep red carpet. A broad marble staircase sits opposite, rising a hundred feet to the next level. To the far sides of the foyer, modernist and post-modernist art hangs from the distant, glass ceiling on silver threads.

Over fifty figures are scattered about the chamber in loose or tight clusters. Most are dressed in modern attire, but not a few wear archaic or outlandish clothes. The noise is subdued, as though they are keeping the conversations to those standing near them, but occasionally, a laugh is heard.

"Your names, please," says a short man in a white tuxedo. He is standing behind a lecturn with a pen held delicately in his left hand. On the wooden surface of the lecturn is a large, leathebound book. The pages are filled with hundreds of names written in spidery script.

Mina smiles politely to him. "I am Mina of the Carthian Movement, and this is my guest, Jonathan Belmont. I am his sire."

The man in the tuxedo glances at Jonathan, smiles, and then looks at Mina. "Do you claim responsibility for him at the gathering?"

"I need not," Mina replies. "However, I claim responsibility."

The man bows to the pair. "Then be welcome."

[Jonathan Belmont]

As they moved away from the man in the white tuxedo, Jonathan paused to survey the crowd. Guttermouth's email had conveyed the need for appropriate attire, and almost everyone in attendance had obeyed this command. There were, however, subtle differences that gave the members of each Covenant away.

A tall black man who could only be Markus Nwoso and a petite Mediterranean woman whom Jonathan guessed was Henrietta Aphese seemed to each be holding their own private courts in two clusters to the right of the marble staircase. Elegantly and no doubt expensively dressed, yet eschewing extravagance, their followers swarmed the two Kindred as if mere physical proximity to one or the other would somehow increase their social standing. Which, in the Invictus, was very possible.

Beyond the members of the First Estate, to the far right of the room, Jonathan recognised from Mina's descriptions Ferdin Sigismund, Bishop of the Lancea Sanctum. Dressed soberly, almost to the point of rudeness given the occasion, this small group of Sanctified seemed to huddle together as if to protect itself from the rest of the rooms inhabitants. Only Inspector Javert showed no fear, standing a few feet behind the Bishop as if on guard and watching the room like a hawk. Aware, but definitely not afraid.

To the left of the marble staircase Jonathan saw Dr. Herbert Montefiore of the Ordo Dracul, although neither Otto Teufel nor Octavian Gorgu seemed to have arrived yet. The good doctor apparently did not feel the need to capitalise on his rivals lateness, with the Dragons spreading out in a large group of twos and threes, each carrying on their own conversations. The only things that marked them as a Covenant was the ornamental and slightly archaic way in which they were all clad.

The Hierophant and her entourage had not yet arrived, but some minor Circle of the Crone functionaries joined the unaligned in peppering the space between the Covenants. The children of the Mother of Monsters were over-dressed to show of the Circle's dominance in the city, as he knew Scythia herself would be, whilst the unaligned seemed to be the most likely to brake the dress code. Good thing that Guttermouth and the Vozhd were already there, to put in a word for their fellow separatists.

They could all wait however. Jonathan knew that he'd likely meet them all at some point tonight, but he'd always been taught that family came first, so with that in mind he led Mina to the far left of the room where The Carthian Movement had gathered.

It was, in a way, one of the strangest sights so far. Pyotr Kudryavtsev may have technically been in charge, but he stood talking with a young couple while the rest of the Covenant fawned over Roland Powell. Powell and his closest followers wore clothes with a militaristic edge, but the failure of the rest of Jonathan's fellow Carthians to follow suit showed that although they might enjoy his company at a party such as this, that was as far as their loyalty went. For the moment.

Mina gently steered Jonathan towards the Idealist as they came closer, and smiled warmly in response to his questioning gaze. He smiled back, and than turned his attention to the lover of beautiful ideas.

[Loredoctor]

Pyotr scratched his scruffy beard and seemed to stare through Mina and Jonathan, glancing into infinity. Mina coughed politely, and the Idealist looked as though recalling where he was. "Ah, Mina. Jonathan, a pleasure to finally meet you. My apologies, I was just recalling Sofya Yanovskaya's work; I thought discussing her contributions with the Prince or Callidia, specifically women's contributions to Marxism, might be fruitful. Fruitful, sycophantic or dangerous, given 'our queen's' distaste of the common cause." He smiled sadly.

Pyotr then held a hand out to Jonathan. "Brother, welcome."

[James Randel]

James strolled into the opera house giving a quick nod to the doorman. He rubbed at the blood on his hand to try and clean it off discreetly.

He stood for a moment, looking at the generally upper class art work around the room, as well as the mostly well presented people strolling around. So this was the new society that he belonged to? Lost in it all for a second he noticed people signing in with a small man in a white tuxedo.

"Hey man, call me Jimmy. Some email said I should be here." He glanced around the room again. "So I'm new to all this shit. Where's the bar?"

[Loredoctor]

The man in the white suit raised a thin eyebrow. "Pardon, 'Jimmy'?" he replied in a slight condescending tone. "The bar is to your left. I believe you are at the wrong location; the nearest club," he said briefly glancing at James' clothing, "is the financial district. This is a private event, and I am unaware how you received an invitation by email."

He turned around and raised a hand.

[James Randel]

James watched the hand raise itself towards him. He had dealt with presuming assholes before, at venues and gigs in his former life. They were a pet hate of his and this prick was going to wear it.

"And who the fuck are you? No invite? I'm James fucking Randel! I don't need no fucking invite. I go wherever the fuck I like! Look at you, all assuming with a navy boy fetish in your white little tux. Fuck you man." James spat at the short man.

"Now, check it again. Your list. Randel, James fuckin Randel. I don't even wanna be at this fag fest anyway. I don't fucking know man. It's been a long couple a weeks."

Now feeling slightly ashamed of his outburst, James looked around the room at the disapproving faces staring at him. Heh, great start.

[Loredoctor]

The foyer was silent, and almost everyone had turned to stare at James. The man in the tuxedo's jaw had dropped and he was turning pale. The pen was held in a vice-like grip. Behind him, he heard the door open and some figures walk past him. One of them turned to face him.



"James Randell. Unaligned. We know a lot about you. Mark him down, Mister Crampton. Without doubt, your behaviour has been noted. I am the Mistress of Elysium here, and I am asking . . . no, telling you that you will refrain from any more outbursts whilst you are here."

She looked at Crampton. "Callidia, of the Circle of the Crone. My companions are Lydia Hibberd and Emmet Kyles. Both of the Circle. Thankyou, Mister Crampton."

Callidia glared at James and then walked away. Her companions ignored him.

[James Randel]

Turning around and walking towards the bar, James fumed over his introduction to this society. "Your behaviour has been noted" he said in a condescending tone. Who the fuck did she think she was? Eyes still followed him as he walked. "What the fuck are you looking at?" he spat at someone who quickly turned away disgusted.

Taking a seat at the bar he nodded to the barman.

"Hey garcon, hows your night? What the fuck do people drink at these things?" He looked back around the room. ""We know a lot about you" what the fuck she mean by that?"

[Loredoctor]

The bartender was wearing an immaculate uniform. He stood behind the bar that was made of gleaming steel and covered in clean glass. Behind him, rows of alcohol glittered in the soft light, perched on shelves made of mirrors and metal. He stared blankly at James as he considered his question.

"You're a ghoul, right?"

[James Randel]

James turned around and looked at the man. He was quickly beginning to realise how little he knew of this world and how much over his head he was.

"Uh, what the fucks a ghoul?" He asked "All I know is that I cant go out side during the day, I cant eat steak and that biting my tongue is a real pain in the ass. Call it want you want to."

[Loredoctor]

The bartender shifted uncomfortably and glanced around. "How long have you been a Kindred . . . I mean a vampire?" There was an incredulous tone in his voice. "You sound like you don't know a thing. I can't serve you any drinks, as you can't drink alcohol."

[James Randel]

Head dropping, James though about the untouched bottle of Jack Daniels back in his loft.

"Yeah I know man. Me without a bottle is like Bo peep without sheep." He looked back up at the bar tender. "Fuck man, I dunno, a couple weeks. I didn't ask for this shit."

James couldn't believe he was having a conversation like this whilst sober. Normally he was blind drunk when he spilled out to a bar tender.

"What's your name man? In case you missed it, I'm James. Just call me Jimmy. "