Written Account of Randulf Storm, Twelfth Entry

February 4th, 2012

I did not know what it means to hunt, and I am humbled. We set ourselves free, and His Grace began to choose targets, and we complied. He had been secretly Dominating us for so many years, gibberish phrases that could not possibly be uttered randomly triggering Commands buried deeply. I am not shamed by this. To be chosen for such an honor is liberating. That His Grace chose me for his assassinations shows what a well-groomed hunter I am.

For centuries I have played at hunting with my clients and peers and servants. Chasing game and men and kindred until His Grace showed me a better way. One can hunt for food. But what a pointless use for a hunt! If one is going to bear teeth and draw blood, it should be done for the betterment of the Invictus.

I kept my claws sheathed and played my games for so long, that I did not realize what I was training for. Or that I was training. Targets on a map, cities parceled out to Alders, Constantinople wiped clean and purified of those who plot against His Grace. I see now that it was loyalty to Duke Trianuis that kept me from setting my hunts loose. Without the law of a prince I respect to keep my leash in hand, I find myself thinking fondly of Milan, Rome, Paris. No rules, new faces, surprise hunts.

I can’t wait to get started.



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