prince fight

Stepping from the broom closet doorway back into the hall, Alois looked at the reception with an empty gaze. There was simply too much going on in his head to reconcile. Yes, he'd discussed with one of his most trusted Primogens how to cope, but such an insult, such a brutal criticism and harsh ultimatum all were fresh in his mind. All he could do now would be wait out the conclave and prepare for the worst from his city.

He wandered around a bit, but didn't seem too keen on talking to anyone. What could possibly brighten his mood? Do anything to snap him out of this depression?

A figure in the crowd caught his eye. Stared right back at him, and immediately the spark returned. That was it. The one person who he could speak to.

The one person that would make him feel better about himself.

Those good old Ventrue instincts began to pick up immediately, criticizing his dress. What *was* that strange suitcoat he always seemed to wear? Too long, and an ill-fitting, off-dark color, much unlike his own razor-sharp black. His target certainly did carry himself like a fellow Ventrue, but there was always something hesitant about him, distracted perhaps. Immature. Strange, considering the man was embraced ten years prior to himself.

He made his approach. His target stood up straighter. Alois watched his eyes for any special reaction.

"Prince LaCroix." Alois said, putting out his own hand. He was, as etiquette dictated, met with a hand in return, and he took a great deal of pleasure in squeezing down, just enough, establishing dominance. It got the desired reaction, the slightest widening of the eyes. He was startled. Thrown right off the bat. Good.

"Prince Lowe." he answered, voice unwavering. But it didn't matter. The thought was there.

"It is impressive to see that you survived your... accident. Both with your Princehood and your body intact." Alois's voice was bone-dry, but even then he could not hold back a smile.

"It takes more than that to bring down a Ventrue." LaCroix shot back, very much on the defensive, "Unfortunately, such things are to be expected when you are attempting to break new ground."

"From what I understand, the trap was laid as a prank and not as a direct protest. Despite the advice of several, you still pursued and fell for it. This is not professional behavior"


"Still, this is how the Anarchs operate, is it not? I... was operating under the assumption that it would have been a threat to my city..." His feathers were clearly ruffled. He broke eye contact for a split second, before straightening himself and resuming, "You must admit, that it takes quite a bit of courage to attempt to capture a new city for the Camarilla. No one else was willing to attempt to pave the way."

"Is that so? Quite admirable. And for one to defy his heritage, is also in a way courageous."

It was a low blow, for sure. But Alois was upset, and this notorious embarrassment made for a very good stress reliever.

"I will have you know, Prince Lowe, that while you were buying your way out of service, I was serving under one of the greatest military minds of history, out on the front lines! You may say many things about me, but I will not tolerate you calling me a coward."

"Of course not. I never meant to insinuate such a thing. All I'm saying is that your Waterloo came in the form of a sarcophagus." Alois had to keep himself from laughing. How had this man ever gotten into any position of power? This was almost too easy. For a moment, he almost felt bad.

"Hmph. I did what I could. Someone such as yourself could never understand what it's like to attempt to keep order under such conditions. Where every Kindred on the streets wants your head. It's hard not to try to take whatever advantage that you can."

"...Tell me. Do you still retain your Princehood?"

"What? Of course I do!"

Alois was not convinced. It didn't matter where LaCroix went, the Los Angeles Regent was never far behind, watching him from behind the red-lensed glasses. Occasionally the Regent would mutter to him, shake his head, and was the first to reach out himself to other princes.

That was it. LaCroix didn't want to admit it, but he'd been stripped of much of his power. The real Prince was of Tremere blood now. The only purpose the Ventrue served was as a decoy, given just enough to make him feel important.

"...Of course." Alois said, honey-sweet behind a knowing grin, "Well, it is good to hear that you are at least making headway. May the Camarilla rule strong, even in the southern Free States."

That fool, Alois thought. LaCroix still had a waryness in his eye. The man was not a complete idiot. But it was enough to raise his shoulders a little.

"Yes. Good evening to you, Prince Lowe."

"Good evening." They parted ways. It hadn't taken away all of Alois's grief, but such an exercise helped him to at least get into the mindset to handle it.