conclave

South Sound Manor. A place cleanly bought out and the doors locked to keep away any prying eyes. It would normally be closed at such an hour, but money speaks loudly, and no other time than the dark of night would suit this party. It was a Conclave, the first that had been held in the Pacific Northwest for quite some time. Most present were excited to attend, to allow the voices of an oft-neglected region to finally be heard.

For Prince Alois Lowe of Seattle, this was a nightmare.

The Conclave's timing could not have been worse. Coincidence or not, it came right off the heels of a major blunder in lawmaking. For many years, he'd bent the rules of the Traditions, never quite breaking them, but allowing his Kindred to live in relative leniency. And for quite some time, it had worked in his favor.

But now, the threads were starting to cross and tangle. Five embraces in barely over a month. Overpopulation was setting in, but attempting to fix the problem led to an angry backlash from his pampered citizens. He made deals that he, nor the population could hope to maintain. Something had to give. He had only hoped that it could be by his own hands, and not forced onto him by Justicars.

Luka had attended with him, and he was hoping his partner would lighten the mood. He tried. A joke here, a sarcastic remark there. But even Alois could tell the immense weight on his shoulders. In that pretty head of his he already put together the ramifications of what may happen this night. What effects it could have on Seattle's kindred society. And the aftermath could be nothing but hideous.

For a few hours, the Conclave went as normal. Alois cut the tension by conversing with a handful of Princes from other cities, exchanging policy ideas and sharing stories. Perhaps, he thought, it had been paranoia that led him to believe this night was about punishing him. After all, he was the Prince of one of the last major Camarilla-controlled cities of the west coast. Why shouldn't he be invited?

He thought that, until a large Gangrel man pulled him to the side. Led him roughly to one of the back rooms, almost painfully cramped compared to the reception hall.

Inside were a few people who he did not recognize. A few archons, perhaps or representatives that were lower still. But one woman turned her head towards the door as they entered, and if Alois's heart still beat it would have stopped at that moment.

Only one Justicar was in attendance tonight. But it was the one he feared the most.

"Lady Lucinde." he said, voice almost a whisper, in disbelief and terror. The Gangrel marched him forward, to sit in front of the gathered, standing by his side to make sure he didn't move. He was unarmed, but Alois still eyed him, the room, and all in attendancea, looking for concealed weapons.

Physically she was a young woman, even younger than himself by a few years. But her harsh, dark eyes revealed the truth. Behind the pinned hair and youthful face was a ruthless, focused mind. The former first Alastor, and now the most influential member of his Clan outside of the Inner Circle itself.

"Prince Lowe." she said, her voice fearless, tightly controlled but absolutely confident. Not since seeing Prince Mithras in his fledgling years had be been so awed by the presence of another Kindred.

"I assume that you know why I am here." She continued, eyes boring holes through the Prince as he sat, board-still. Whatever happened next, he would live or die by her words, and his own.

"I cannot say for sure, but I am sure that your reason is a valid one." He chose every word carefully as if his life depended on it, as it very much did.

"First, I must make very clear that you are not to make my presence at this conclave known. It was called on such short notice because of news I received while in the area. I have been tracking down members of the Red List linked to Portland, Oregon." She looked him in the eyes, and he had no choice but to stare back. "If nothing else, you have done an admirable job of driving them away into a place where they are more vulnerable."

Alois loosened maybe an inch.

"However. The news brought to my attention has been far from good. It seems that your leniency of our traditions has caused a fatal contradiction. Your people are revolting because you have given them too much, and your streets are on the verge of flood."

Without thinking, Alois raised at his hand, touching his neck, the muscles underneath tight, showing every sinew. The corner of Lucinde's mouth twitched.

"Prince Lowe, you have been an instrumental part in maintaining Camarilla control of this coast. You have cultivated your city in a way that few other Princes have. And for that, replacing you is a dangerous prospect. But, if you continue to bend the rules, it will become a necessity."

His hand snapped back to his lap. It was incredible. Perhaps he could escape what he was sure would be a death sentence.

"And so, I present you with an ultimatum. Rewrite the laws of your city to match the Traditions exactly, and be prepared to enforce them... Or you will be retired from the Camarilla permanently.

He was stunned. Now he understood the glances Luka had been giving him. His partner saw what a nightmare this would be for the population, one that had been accustomed to an escape from rigid structure. And that's not even mentioning what this may lead the spoiled, ungrateful Anarchs to do...

But he had no choice but to agree. Seattle without him was no city at all. The city would have to burn to the ground before he would abandon it. His people would just have to either adjust or leave. But quitting was not an option.

He would face the fallout with dignity. Come hell or high water.