It went much as I had imagined it would.  Blaine and Olivia took to Genevieve at once; Blaine teased her and called her his little girl, insisted on nicknaming her "Gen", and asked her to call him Uncle.  Olivia hugged her and fussed over her being the lone woman in this castle full of men.  Kalonice of Greece also seemed to instantly like Genevieve, offering her the services of a maid trained in helping vampires dress and giving her some well meaning advice on the care of Princely husbands.  Hans was polite and friendly without being effusive; Zalyina likewise.  Monique, Rodrigo and Ingrid all glowered and complained that my bride was too young and too pretty.

Jealousy, I smiled to myself, it was pure jealousy.  Monique and Rodrigo had no consorts, and Ingrid's consort was a lanky, half mad idiot named Lothar.

As for Carmine...

He was absolutely charming; paid his respects to his host and hostess, and then whisked off Olivia to dance with her.  Genevieve watched him, looking puzzled.

"He is very handsome," she observed.

"All the more reason not to trust him," said I, firmly.  I hid a grin.  Carmine would probably kill me if he ever found out.

"Oh, Claude, he seems quite charming."

Blaine appeared at my elbow to beg for a dance with Genevieve.  I surrendered her, not without some misgivings, and went to dance with Kalonice.

"What an absolutely beautiful girl," said the Greek Prince.  "Congratulations, Claude.  You have been alone far too long; I am delighted you found someone so suitable and so lovely."

"Thank you," I bowed.

She smiled up at me.  "You are very much in love with her," she stated.  "I can see it in your eyes."

"Very much.”

"Good.  There is little enough of that in the Council."

Despite myself, I laughed.  "You do not believe that Ingrid passionately loves Lothar?"

Kalonice snorted, a most unPrincely response.  "Scarcely," she replied dryly.
"Although it has been very pleasing to watch Blaine and Olivia come to care about each other."

"After very nearly killing each other," I agreed, watching the Prince of England dancing with Genevieve, and Olivia in Carmine's arms.   The two of them were laughing.  Olivia and Carmine got along together; a little too well for my comfort.  Oddly, Blaine didn't seem to mind.

Later I was forced to watch as Carmine asked Genevieve to dance and she agreed.  The Italian Prince behaved himself, though, and kept his hands in unremarkable spots on his escort's anatomy, and did not seem to be whispering improprieties to her.  He returned her to my side at the end of the dance, with a bow, and strode off without a word or backward glance.

An odd man, Carmine.

The Ball ended two hours before dawn, to give those  who did not wish to stay at the chateau time to get to their prearranged lodgings. The Princes and their retinues all thanked us and bid us goodnight; then either made their way to rooms in the chateau or out to assorted conveyances.  Carmine bowed rather sardonically as he left, but said nothing more than "Bon nuit."

At the next Council meeting, Genevieve was voted acceptable as the successor to France.  Blaine's expression made even Rodrigo hesitate to vote against her.  She attended every Council meeting thereafter, dressed in my colours, listening attentively and asking sharp, intelligent questions afterwards to better understand the workings of the Council.

Together we turned the Princedom of France into a good one.  Even the unaffiliated vampires of the country  adored my consort and gave us no cause to enforce the Laws. Weres, shapeshifters, magic users, and Nameless Ones gravitated to the court, many offering to join Le Societe des Gardiens.  I accepted those who truly seemed to feel loyalty to me and my cause.  Genevieve spent time learning how the Gardiens worked and getting to know each of them; when she made her first fledgling, a woman named Sophie who had been found dying of cold and exposure in an alley in Paris, that fledgling became the first female Gardien.

Others were to follow.  Genevieve followed my direction in turning fledglings, as I in my time had followed Armand's methods.  Some vampires, even Princes, turned those they felt sexually attracted to.
Sometimes turnings were done out of hatred or revenge. But I, and now Genevieve, turned fledglings out of need or pity; taking the neglected, the fighters,  the outcasts, the dying.  Her rescues, I called them.

And she proved herself quite capable of handling herself as Prince.

I had been asked by Prince Blaine to come  to England.  Blaine and Olivia were having some trouble with a powerful magic user named George Denby; he was interfering in court business and causing problems for the vampires of Great Britain.   There was even a chance Denby had allied with Corbeau, who was wandering around Europe like a gypsy, leaving ruin in his path.

So I agreed to come and see what I could do to help; I suspected that Blaine just wanted some moral support but I could not refuse a friend and fellow Prince in need.  Even though there was no Council meeting or Ball to be held in England, great affection for the English Prince and his consort made me take the arduous journey to England.

I left Genevieve as interim Prince.  She had now been a vampire for nearly fifty years and had three fledglings, all of whom had turned out well and were Gardiens.  I had trained her in all the duties and burdens of being Prince; I was confident that she could handle being interim while I travelled to England to help Blaine.  She assured me she would be fine; she had the Gardiens (although I was taking Benoit and Thierry with me, for security reasons) to protect her, after all.

England and France were technically at war.  Of course, when weren't they?  But one of the talents of a Prince was ... smoothing the way.  Arranging reliable transport came easily to us; and our journeys tended to be relatively problem free.

I arrived in England without incident and after a journey of only minor inconveniences.  In 1552, this was quite a feat.  A swift coach took me to London and the house currently occupied by the Prince and his court.  Blaine was not one for castles or ostentation.

He welcomed my two Gardiens and I.  His quietness and lack of his usual bumbling mannerisms alerted me that Blaine was worried.

"He's been killing vampires with magic," Blaine said, after the greetings were out of the way.

I didn't bother to ask if Blaine had tried to stop Denby from killing vampires.  A hunter often became the hunted.  Obviously, the English court would have tried to capture or kill the magician.

"Perhaps we can reason with him," I suggested.  "If he sees that another country has become involved... surely he does not want all out war with our kind."

Blaine shrugged.  It wasn't a graceful Gallic shrug, but it sufficed to convey his scepticism about this method.

I made a face, much the same kind I had once made during boring Council meetings.

"You know, I always wanted to slap you when you did that," Blaine remarked.  "I'm amazed Armand never did."

Hah, he didn’t know.  His spies were not all that good.. "Not in public," I replied enigmatically. In private...ah, Armand had given me more than a slap.  "I miss him,  Blaine.  He was a good sire and a good Prince."

"So are you," Blaine replied.  "How is dear Gen, by the way?  You've left her as interim?"

"She is doing splendidly.  She will be a formidable Prince some day, should that day ever come."

"Perish the thought."

Blaine surprised me with the passion in that statement.

We fell back to discussing Denby and the situation of mage versus vampire.  In the end, Blaine agreed to try my suggestion of actually talking to Denby, possibly offering some kind of truce.  The talk drifted to
Corbeau,  and speculation about where he might be now.  When last heard of, the rogue had been hiding in Germany, semi protected by Ingrid's corrupt court.

"We must do something about Germany," said Blaine.

"Hm," I frowned.  "Je pense que nous pourrions laisser cette situation sans risque dans des mains du Carmine."

Blaine raised an eyebrow.  "C'est vrai?" he asked thoughtfully. "D'accord."

The next evening, we set out to find Denby and offer to talk to him. I had met magic-users, many of whom preferred to be called mages (though not magi), but Denby was a very powerful one.  And one who had slain my kind. I did not know what to expect.  A messenger had been sent to the magician to arrange a meeting on hopefully neutral ground in a nearby park.  With Benoit, Thierry, and two of Blaine’s security men as escorts, we went into the park.  We found George Denby, also known as Lord Avery and likely several other names, seated comfortably on a bench. He was alone, or apparently so.  Quite a handsome man, seemingly young, but I knew mages could disguise their appearance and some were immortal, or at least lived beyond the normal mortal span.

"There are several vampires placed throughout this park," Blaine said by way of greeting, "you would be extremely foolish to try to break the safe conduct, Lord Avery."

"And a good evening to you, Prince Blaine," replied Denby, with a nod of his head.  He looked at me.  "I doubt this is your consort, however."

 "Claude de Monet, Prince of France," I said, with a half bow.

"George Denby, Lord Avery, Knight of the Order of the Crimson Rose and Ansate Cross."

I looked up with interest.  "You are a Rosicrucian?"

"That is a different Rose and Cross, Monsieur Prince.  What brings you here from France?"

"You do, Lord Avery."

"Ah."  Denby looked slightly perturbed; obviously he had not expected  international involvement.  "I thought France had her own troubles."

"She does, Lord Avery.  Which is why I am here.  I do not wish you to become one of France's troubles as well as one of England's.  Prince Blaine and I are close friends, for rival Princes.  He has aided me against France's enemies.  Have no doubts that I will aid him against England's."  My tone remained neutral; I did not believe in making threats, simply in  stating facts.

"I see."  Denby was obviously thinking things over.

“You have killed vampires, Lord Avery,” said Blaine, who was obviously unhappy with the idea of negotiating with this wizard.

Denby gave him a steady look then looked at me, and the four ready-for-trouble vampires behind us.

“You have attempted to kill me,” he replied.  “And have killed members of the Rose and Cross.  I don’t like vampires, Prince Blaine.” Which eliminated the possibility he had made allies with Corbeau, at least.  If he was telling the truth.

“Why not?” I asked.

He gave me a look of utter disbelief, as if his answer should be self-evident.

“I do not drink human blood, Monsieur Denby, if that is the reason for your prejudice,” I told him.  Ah, yes, pig’s blood, le specialite du Maison de Monet. It’s an acquired taste.

“Your dietary habits do not interest me, boy,” he replied, giving the insulting word full emphasis.  It had been many years since anyone had called me a boy.  “You clutter up the landscape; make it difficult for us to operate in secret.  Your precious Council with its inane laws... bah.”


I very carefully kept my mouth shut.  This was not my country, and Denby was not a vampire. I was torn between being angry, which would have only escalated an already unpleasant situation, and wanting to laugh.  Had I laughed, I believe Blaine would have run me through.

“The Council Law is for vampires,” Blaine replied evenly.  “The only reason it should concern you is when you interfere with us.”

Denby shrugged.  “What do you want, then?” he asked ungraciously.

“A truce,” Blaine proposed.  “You stop killing vampires, and we will not prevent you from organizing the Rose and Cross and we will not kill magic-users.”

I had to give the man credit for brains.  "Perhaps I have been mistaken, Prince Blaine, in thinking of you as the enemy," he said after a moment. "Perhaps we could come to some accord."

"Let's not talk about it in the park, then, like refugees," said Blaine.  "There's a perfectly good inn just the other side of the gates."

We repaired, minus the assorted armies, to the inn; and over bowls of mulled ale hammered out the raw terms of a sort of armed truce.  Denby agreed to stop killing vampires if vampires agreed to stop killing magic users, and Blaine agreed not to try to recruit any for his court.  Blaine almost objected to this condition; but since he did not currently desire all out war with the nascent Rose and Cross, he eventually agreed. It was a small price to pay for peace.  Plus, there was no barrier against a magic user voluntarily joining the British court...

Not every conundrum that bedevilled a sitting Prince was so easily and peacefully solved, but sometimes all you had to do was involve another country.

Neither Blaine nor I celebrated the news; we went back and told Olivia and the remainder of the British court what had occurred and warned them that the violence might not end entirely, certainly not right away until word could be spread amongst membership of both groups. And, Denby might have been lying or manipulating us for his own reasons... but if it turned out he had, he would die.

I stayed the rest of the month with Blaine and Olivia, talking things over with them, ensuring that Denby kept to his word.  But at the end of that time, I set off back home to France, anxious to see how my young wife had fared as interim Prince in my absence.  I expected to find her seated comfortably in her sitting room at the chateau, sipping wine and complaining of missing her husband, having been spoiled rotten by the Gardiens.

I found her... not at home.  The "little cousins", the ghouls Elrich and Jared, simply shrugged when I demanded to know my wife's whereabouts. I dismissed them angrily, and they loped out of the room, having heard sharp words from their master before.

I was Prince.  I should not lose my temper.  There were a hundred reasons why Genevieve might not be home; I had sent a message on ahead but messages go astray.  I went in search of the Gardiens who had remained behind (Benoit and Thierry, who had returned from England with me, wisely stayed out of my way) in order to question them.

I found only Sophie and Marc the Nameless One, left to guard the chateau against any enemies who might attack while most of its usual protectors were gone.  They did not look particularly pleased; whether at being left behind or at my return, I could not decide and did not care.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

Marc shifted his feet.  As a Nameless One, part of a strange warrior race apparently bred to serve vampires, he owed no actual fealty to me.  He served me as a paid employee, not as a fledgling or oath taker.  I was counting on Marc not thinking of this.

"Monsieur," said Sophie shyly.  As a very young fledgling, and of Genevieve's turning, she was taking a chance by speaking directly to me. "I know where she has gone."

"Speak, then, child," I said, with what kindness I could muster at the moment.  I'd been on the road (not to mention the sea) a long time; I wanted my wife.