After further questioning the cotterie is still unable to find out who stole the translation key, tensions run high among the members of the little group as suspicion amongst each other constantly grows.
On the bright side, construction has been completed and is even ahead of schedule - Indeed by the time their letter had reached their patrons, Sylvian was already at work on the second floor.
---
28th of October, 1198, 8:12pm
Birkau Castle
Tihuta PassSteeple had planned for a glorious revelry in which the workers and their families would join them in celebration to coincide with the coming of the Patrons, to better give them the fanfare he knew they would appreciate.
A small field had been cleared by the workers, where Barabus and Daniel's war beast have been chained for the arrival of the various elders. Drinks and blood had been prepared and the various people who had worked been brought onto the project, tired and content in their success thus far were all more than happy to take part in the celebrations (perhaps naively celebrating the impending departure of their undead masters?).
Celebrations had been going on for hours, blood, food and drink being plentiful.
By the time the crescendo of bells climbing the mountain was heard, the party was well into its ninth hour with little sign of letting up.
There were seven wagons in a train. Each was magnificently appointed. Radu's servant Tiberiu stepped forth and began to announce them as they stepped from their wagons.
“Lady Arianne, of the Courts of Love!” Sylvian's eyes gaze lovingly on his sire as she steps delicately from her caravan, mortal servants accompanying her.
“Lord Sandor, Vovoide of Arad!” The Koldun exits his carriage unaided, briefly patting the massive war beasts he passed off as horses on their backs before searching the crowd for his childe.
"Lord Vladivostok, Merchant King of Hungaria!" The grim malkavian's appearance goes apparently mostly unnoticed - those who look upon him quickly look away - though whether because they had their gaze forcefully pushed away or because of fear at the sight of the most intimidating monster is a good question indeed.
“Lord Arnulf, King of the Wild Realms!” Arnulf looks approvingly at the revelry, the bestial ancient seems all too eager to join it.
“Lord Maleki, the Chosen of Michael” The hard-faced Nosferatu hides his deformities from the mortal crowd, but his gaze still bears the terrifying force of presence that it held in his natural form.
“Lord Basilio, the Elder, Prince of Sofia” the dark prince is not alone when he steps out, he is accompanied by a figure that Anton and Kiril know very well - Husayn Al-Fatim. Dark as a moonless night, the elder Assamite stands out against the other elders in the crowd. He has brown eyes and a curiously effeminate face. He looks more like a romantic lover than a killer. He wears dark, jewel-toned colors and dresses in the Turkish fashion. He wears his one weapon, a curved dagger, thrust through his sash. With a slight smile and eyes bearing lively intelligence, he turns his gaze from his friend and companion and looks with an approval similar to Arnulf's at the celebrations going on.
“Count Radu Bistri of the Council of Ash, Prince of Bistritz!”
The Count exited his wagon with no particular fanfare or pomp, but as he looked on the revelries an almost tangible wave of power radiated outwards from him.
Every mortal present could not help but bow before the master of this domain. Even among the cotterie, Anton, Steeple and Kiril alone are unaffected by the desire - Kiril can see that Carinus is in the same situation as him, but chooses to bow anyway. It might be wise to do the same.
When he stood before them be began to speak, as much to the mortals as to the cotterie.
“I am Radu. It was I who sent you on this quest to build for us a tower that I and the Princes of Transylvania would use as a shield against our enemies in the West. Each of you was chosen for your outstanding service to your masters, whom wish to call me friend. I was told to expect great things. I was told that in your hands all things were possible. Your sires were not wrong. I am honoured by your dedication! This tower, when finished, shall stand for all time, to show the might and beauty of this land, and you who have honoured me with your great works shall be rewarded in kind.”
The crushing force that pressed on the crowd is lifted. Radu's (rather uncharacteristic) display of strength is ended and the revelries resume.