The Ventrue neonate, Melchior d'Pompousgit tapped his feet with impatience. The queue to see the Prince appeared to be quite long at this elysium, unlike in his home town, where his friendly sire could always give him an audience with the Prince at very short notice. The state of some of the oiks in the queue ahead of him was quite appalling. There was a Nosferatu who clearly hadn't washed recently, some leather clad hooligan, and a bestial Gangrel wearing hillbilly old clothes who obviously hadn't been to a big city before. At least he, Melchior, had taken the time and trouble to pick a very expensive Armani suit to come to the elysium in, and it really was quite fetching. As he waited to see the Prince, he saw the Gangrel being shown in, being next in the line. This really was too much. He decided that a little white lie was in order...
Argentus, the 6th Generation Gangrel who was about to be shown in to see the Prince was rather surprised to see some angry kindred in a suit pushing past him. Obviously it was a kindred of far greater power than he, and he'd always known prudence to be the best policy, so he remained quiet and waited to see what would happen.
"I demand to see the Prince now!" shouted Melchior.
"Who are you?" inquired the ghoul butler at the Prince's door.
"I am Lord Melchior of the Ventrue. I am certainly much older and vastly more powerful than any of these oiks who can't have seen more than a few centuries. I am passing through, and my old friend Prince Stuckupsod asked me to pass a short message on to the Prince of this small hamlet!"
The ghoul, who knew that people like this were more than his job or existence was worth, stepped aside and allowed this elder through. Some people weren't worth crossing. Meanwhile Simon Evilsonofabitch, the Brujah antitribu infiltrator, slipped out of the elysium and into the night. He'd got all of the information he needed...
Later that night, Melchior left the Elysium. He'd enjoyed lording it over everyone else, even though it had involved the odd little white lie. The Prince had been surprised that such an important envoy had been sent over a trivial matter, and promised to look into it immediately. He'd been the centre of attention for the entire elysium, and that Gangrel who'd been at the front of the queue had kept on trying to be a pal with him, so he'd fobbed him off like the half animal he was. This had seemed to make the elysium even more impressed, and he'd left with several offers of service and influence under his belt. All in all, a most profitable evening.
Suddenly, Melchior was jolted out of his reverie by the realisation that he was surrounded by a bunch of leather clad oiks. One of them looked like that shifty leather clad figure who'd been in the elysium earlier but had left while he'd been seeing the Prince. Oh well, might as well try to bluff his way past here.
"Out of my way, scum."
"You know," said Simon, "I really don't think we will."
Melchior didn't even have time to scream as the experienced Sabbat pack jumped him, and ripped him to shreds.
The kindred of the elysium often talked about the night the powerful Ventrue elder had turned up and pushed around Argentus and the Prince. It went to show that there were much more powerful kindred around out there. They were all glad that they never actually saw him again. He probably had much more important things to be doing.
Simon and his Sabbat pack wiped their lips and argued as they made their way back to their communal haven. Elders just weren't tasting the way they used to any more...
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