2026-03-12 12:04 - 18:08 PST
Simon texted Calimastia to help him follow up on a lead. They’d be speaking with Patricia Rodman, a Toreador ghoul who was planning on supplying both the Camarilla and the Anarchs with dress for the upcoming Giovanni gala1. They were to achieve an exclusive deal so that their sect could outshine the competition.
The two rung the doorbell a few times, but there was no answer. Simon, able to hear the pacing footsteps behind the door, could tell their target was just on the other side, anxious. Eventually, she opened the door.
Slowly, the door opens. A cautious woman in some expensive looking, long-sleeved silk pajamas asks, “Who are you? Why are you here this late?”
Simon told her who they were, and that they were sent by Amalia White. Reluctantly, she let them in. He requested she only provided dress to the Camarilla for the upcoming gala, but she refused.
Sim nods. “See, Miss White expected you to say that.” He says and keeps his smile on. “Miss White has asked me to remind you that it was thanks to Gloria Wyles that your business is what it is right now.” He looks around her house with curiosity. “You’ve done well for yourself, I see. And Miss White would love to ensure that you keep doing well for yourself. She mentioned writing you big cheques if that’s what it takes to keep your business flourishing… and exclusive.”
The offer of money entices Patricia, but the mention of Gloria sours the mood further. Calimastia can tell that name scares Patricia. “That old bat is gone. I don’t owe her anything. I appreciate Amalia’s money, but I’ll lose even more if I cut out an entire market.”
Sim offered this could be her opportunity to start fresh, and that Lady White was more than happy to provide additional funding. Calimastia added that she’d gain earnest protection from any interference2.
Together they managed to convince her, on the condition that she’d finish and hand over a certain crimson dress Amalia had her eye on. Additionally, she’d be under the protection of Barry Brickhouse and his retinue, such that none would be allowed to be recaptured on her late domitor’s behalf, and she’d be provided vitae without the bonding component.
Tomorrow they’d have the dress, and tomorrow she’d have a bottle of blood. Though, she commented something about how Anoush Jindal wouldn’t be happy about this.
“…I’ll be needing to have words with fledgling Jindal soon. If you’d like, I can inform him of your protected status when I do.”
“I’d rather not. I’ll chalk it up to issues due to a heavy workload and make sure he is well-refunded.”
Finally, Sim managed to charm his way into an appointment to get something nice to wear. He actually stayed behind when Calimastia left to keep Patricia company. She even shared some juicy gossip.
Apparently, Amalia used to be married to one Darius White. Supposedly he was her sire, but rumor had it one night he disappeared.
Eventually, he returned to Amalia with the dress, she paid him a handsome sum of cash, and he asked her to save him a dance. Then, Simon called James. Just as he thought he’d been ignored, his sire picked up. He reported what he’d been up to lately, and firmly told him he was ready to learn about fire. James invited him to a cup of coffee. This was incredibly out of character for James.
“Coffee?? James, have you been drinking for real??” Sim asks, a frown appearing slowly on his face. He starts walking towards his bike. “Clear your throat if you are in danger?” He says, knowing his heart would be beating fast as fuck if he were alive.
James clears his throat. “I’m a little tied up with some Chantry business, but I’ll do my best to teach you about those paths you asked me about.”
“Sigh annoyedly if it’s about Jacobi and the item you gave me last night3.” Sim says, keeping his tone even, just in case someone might be listening. But he is totally twitching and cracking his neck as he mounts his bike.
James sighs. “I’m afraid I’ve got to return to my business. Don’t forget about the coffee now, you hear?”
Simon called up Calimastia as he hopped on his bike. He told her that he thought he was in trouble with Jacobi. Then he hung up and hurried to the coffee shop. The shop was closed, but James eventually stumbled along, seemingly not followed by anyone as far as auspex could reveal.
“The Archmage has gone truly bonkers, Simon. He summoned me to his chambers and ranted nonstop about traitors in his ranks, the voices of the relics he’s gathered, and this Saint he must find and destroy.”
When asked, he revealed he hadn’t yet had the chance to study the relic, as he’d been too busy with everything.
“I’m not cross with you, putain!” Simon hisses. “I’m fucking worried espèce de grand con!” He states. “We are on thin fucking ice in here James. I got shot last week, there’s a Revenant throwing parties everywhere in town, I have just heard something real strange about Miss White, and you went Arsène Lupin on our crazy cunt of an Archmage!” “And now you tell me that there’s an assassination plot concerning Jacobi??” He adds and takes a cigarette out, lighting it. “Who do you suspect?” He asks and starts pacing, cracking his neck loudly.
“There are some names, people who believe I’m on their side. Leon the Alabaster is one. He and his coterie have asked me how I feel about the Primogen, encouraging me to see their point of view.” “I fear they are going to take extreme measures. I only wish to remove the relics from the Archmage’s custody, I fear they are going to remove the Archmage.”
James wanted to take away the relics, assured that if they did so, he’d return to his normal, sane self. Simon questioned if it would even be so bad if he was replaced. Ultimately, they decided to protect the archmage, try to convince him to give up the relics, and steal them if need be. After all this was said and done, perhaps they’d go back home to Europe.
“Yeah. About that. Next time I ask to travel the world in order to learn about Folklore and shit, don’t pull strings to humor me. Torpor me and stash me in one of your mansions or something.” Sim grumbles. “Anything else I might need to know? If not, I believe there’s an ancient cookie basket waiting for me.”
“Be careful who you trust in the Tremere. Especially that Hound they’ve just chosen.” “That’s all.”
Simon returned to his room in the Chantry, and finally unwrapped the basket James had smuggled out to him. It spoke to him, whispering of a Saint, her foreign men. The Catholics. That they would destroy them. That they would be here soon. That Simon needed to help.
“Find us. Speak to us. Help us.”
“I will. Where. When. How?” Sim replies.
Sim gets no clear answers, only an insistence that Sim take arms against this Saint. The voice persists even as Sim winds down the night.
Footnotes
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If you see this, remind me to link the gala when it happens ↩
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This was not something the Hound of the Sheriff could guarantee ↩