Octobr 13, 1927
I suppose I will start keeping this journal thing with me cause mr Baptiste says it helps keeps yuo normal. My name is Abel Freeman and I is 24 and a vampire. i have only been for a year now and I am supposed to keep watch over the streets in the south end of the city by the west river side. I only been a vampire 2 year by now, and i aint know what there is to say about it. It is nice mr Baptiste taught me and some of the others how to read, said I should keep a journal so i can look at it later and see what i was like back then. Mr Baptiste says we is carthians, says we fight for the right not to have some elder looking down on us like we are still slaves, specially not Sinclair. I never know Sinclair but my daddy did and so did mr Baptiste and all the other older vampires, see Sinclair owned more than half the carthians in the city fore the done away with slavery. and that was BEFORE he was a vampire, now there talk about makin him the prince of new Orleans cause of nvictus supporting him but mr Baptiste sayn that they going bring a prince in from outside with more nvictus boys to help them put us back in slavery.
I guess thats alls i got to say tonight, i will probaly write more later.
The car ride towards the Sinclair estate was always peaceful, leaving the city proper and cutting through the trees on the best paved road in the state, past the endless fields that during the day were filled with field hands and sharecroppers, and up to the imposing gate made of wrought iron shaped into fleur-de-lis. The Pinkerton at the gate needed only to look inside the cab before letting us through. I could smell the sweat forming at his brow when he looked at me, himself probably unsure where his own nervousness came from. I can never comprehend why he would worry, he had always been polite and professional unlike the guard that had his position prior.
As always waiting for us at the stairs to Mister Sinclair's mansion was Leviticus, that giant of a ghoul. He had probably sensed us entering the property and come out to lead us in.
"Good evening Doctor Mitterwich, and to you as well Mister Smith. Mister Sinclair has been expecting you, will you join him for supper?"
That ghoul had served Mister Sinclair since before he was embraced, he was the overseer back when this was a slave plantation and still serves as a bodyguard for Mister Sinclair. Solomon and I returned his greeting and went inside, through the foyer and down the hall towards the well furnished dining room. The sound of several people talking telling us that Sinclair already had guests though from the nature of their tones they seemed displeased at something.
"I can't believe they're doing this, Augustus!" came a shout, "We've held this city together for more than forty years, and they say they're sending some damn stranger from out of state to be Prince, and he's bringing his own council and soldiers too!?"
I recognized that voice, George Bailey. Just as Mister Sinclair was the de facto Prince, Bailey had been the de facto sheriff. The news was unsurprising to Solomon and I, Mister Sinclair had not hidden his expectations for the future from his business partners. While insulting, the obstacle of a new Prince was planned for and even helpful, after all he was bringing with him a whole swathe of neonate thugs to put down the Carthians. Leviticus walked us up to the door before knocking twice, waiting two beats, then opening the door.
"Mister Sinclair, the Doctor and Mister Solomon are here to see you."
"Why thank you Leviticus. Gentlemen, I believe most of you already know the good doctor, Elder Putere von Mitterwich? He runs the Happy Meadows Asylum just outside of town." Mister Sinclair introduced me to the gathering. I bowed by head slightly to the room as Mister Sinclair continued, "As well as Colonel Solomon Smith, the chief of security at the asylum."
Eyes focused on me before now pivoted to Solomon. Where before he had gone nearly unnoticed, now he came into view, tall and unsettling in a way that few but those from clan Nosferatu could accomplish. The focus returned to Mister Sinclair as we took our seats at the table. Mostly. Priests from the Lancea et Sanctum looked at me with disdain. We both knew I was barely tolerated because of my weekly attendance at mass.
"Now Mister Bailey, everyone, we all find ourselves surprised by this decision from the higher ups in the Invictus, but we can do little to argue right now with the Carthians and the Crone at our necks. A helping hand should not be slapped away after all." Mister Sinclair placated the room.
Most of the kindred here tonight had a vested interest in Mister Sinclair becoming Prince. Business partnerships and mutual interests brought them together tonight: the Church was bound to Mister Sinclair by his generous Christmas donations and the Crone's hostility, Bailey by loyalty, and the dozen others by the promise of influence that being a supporter of the Prince entails. But politics with the kindred was always convoluted, every word here could well end up in the new Prince's ear so the smart ones watched their tongues and made sure to behave. Every sentence had different meanings, veiled in implication or metaphor. Mister Sinclair had no intention of giving up his throne but he knew it was best not to risk infighting when his former slave Sam, or Jean Baptiste as he called himself now, was organizing every slave-turned-vampire in the city to go after Sinclair's head.
"Now as we know, this city is a powder keg waiting for a spark to set it off. The Church and the Crone are at each other's throats, the Carthians are siding with them to boot. Now the Invivtus and the Carthians have always hated each other so we find ourselves in a tough spot. Even with our friends from the Ordo Dracul," With those words he nods towards Solomon and I, "we are still outnumbered. I believe some backup is exactly what we were needing."
The mutters from around the table seemed to affirm Mister Sinclair's opinion, and Bailey seemed to have calmed down. With this there was a lull before politics was set aside and small talk began. Topics ranging from over feeding to discussing new joint-ventures to religious inquiry. This continued for another hour before, slowly, members left the table to return to the city until only Solomon and I remained with Mister Sinclair. Leviticus sat with us then and a silence fell between us until it was broken by Mister Sinclair.
"Doctor, if you agree, I believe it would be best to start... thinning the herd. Could we use the chimera to start picking off some of the Carthians?"
"I can begin as early as tonight, though only in small numbers."
This had been part of our agreement. Years ago, when I had first come to America, my boat had sunk in the Gulf. It was nine years ago by chance Mister Sinclair had dredged my vessel and had awoken me from Torpor. We had come to an agreement at the time where he would help me establish a feeding ground and laboratory in exchange for my clan Tzimisce chimera. The deal had been highly beneficial for us both and now soon would be my time to pay back what was owed.