Diplomacy

Diplomacy without explanation. Learning to avoid such punishment, or at least to avoid such Archons, remains an exercise in loyalty and survival. “Drag wants to become an Archon, become a legend for the Camarilla. I get it. He’s tough, too. He can hold his hand over a fire for minutes without breaking. Primogen would be blind to turn him down. And he knows our city better than anyone. He knew just where to hide out when those Anarch assholes burned out the trailer park. But when you’re an Archon you can’t hide from the heat. You can’t take your hand out of the fire. You join up and you never retire. I heard you die in your first thirteen or they put you down for knowing too much. You only leave as dust. Of course Drag knows all about dust. Those fuckers… his childe was in the trailer park… well, you know.” Sectarian Diplomacy Kindred of the Camarilla hold themselves above the rabble of the Anarchs, but they see some sects as possible peers and even partners. The Second Inquisition plays no favorites, and even the Justicars must perforce agree with the argument. These nights, Archons carry messages of deep respect, even arrangements for local alliance and 1 5 T H E V I E W F R O M T H E T O P C A M A R I L L A My dearest Victoria, I am only in Baghdad for a brief period, observing the activities of Kindred caught in this “Gehenna Crusade,” but as you asked I share my observations. Even a duller eye than mine could hardly miss the Ashirra’s disgust at the Sabbat — not just their sectarian madness, but their sheer blatancy. Perhaps shared tastes can unify us where our diverging interests — politics on our hand and religion on theirs — have failed to do so. Indeed, if our spheres of interest are so separate, why not bring them together? Why not replace the Brujah rabble with the Viziers of the Levant? New allies are not so thick on the ground, after all, especially as we further conceal ourselves from Kindred of other sects. I leave it to you to take this further with Iadanza, but I believe the prospect worthy of entertainment. With love and devotion, Thomas St. Maur Childe of Amber Grandchilde of Mithras perhaps more, back and forth to the Ashirra. Diplomacy, even for the Kindred, remains the art of the possible. And much is possible for the Camarilla. “We must discuss the status of Berlin, Giering. The problem will not go away of its own accord.” Nanette passed her Prince a glass, filled near to the brim with rich blood, harvested from the finest stock the Herz Brothers could provide. If she recalled correctly, this was a new varietal the blood-traffickers had found after moving into the Netherlands two years ago. As the Prince sipped, he waved his hand in dismissal. The old man with his Van Dyke beard had never cared overly about city politics beyond his own domain. “Cologne remains Camarilla. What do we care if the Prussian capital falls to the Anarchs? Nanette, my sweet thing, you must know the city’s fall can only lead to our rise. If Berlin collapses, our domain climbs to prominence, perhaps along with Munich or Frankfurt. Even Hamburg.” He took another sip. “The Inner Circle stopped viewing Berlin as a viable domain a long time ago, I am told. It will be a domain beyond Berlin that receives assets and support from the Ivory Tower.” The young Warlock held her tongue, wanting to speak of domino effects and Anarch fervor. Ignoring other cities was one thing, but even here in Cologne he seemed oblivious to the rising Movement on the streets below. She said none of that, merely “Of course, my Prince.” Giering narrowed his eyes and downed the remaining blood in a single draught. “I am more than capable of interpreting your expressions, dear, sweet childe. I know you disapprove. What is that saying? Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven?” She nodded. “None of us will see heaven. We tried to work with the Anarchs. We tried for five long centuries. We tried crushing them, but that only leads to greater rebellion. It is time to drive them into their own ghettos, let them fester among themselves, and let the problem eliminate itself. If we interfere, we will be held accountable. If we allow the rot to set in and the tooth to fall out, we will be the only ones left.” Nanette watched as her sire made his way to the balcony, contemplating whether now was the time to make her arguments more forcefully. He was awfully close to the ledge ■ 1 6 1 7 T H E V I E W F R O M T H E T O P 1 8