“Sir, I must protest again.” The driver’s words ground against each other with their intensity. “We should come with you. This school's never been safe, not for the students, and never for one of our kind.”

The Bishop eyed the primeval forest. “You know the rules as well as I. The grounds are the province of the Imperatrix Terra and within her domain, her word is law. She's graciously allowed me entry into her home but has not extended that to the Knights of Grace.”

Contempt soured the bodyguards faces. “To think a pagan would dare to forbid the Order entry …”

“We should have burned her people at the stake centuries ago,” the other guard said.

Shrugging, the Bishop turned away from the guards. “It was tried. While the war continues, that does not change today. I'm sure these two will be more than sufficient to guard me.”

Staring at Alexandra and Cesare, the guards faces were wastelands of disgust. They dismissed Cesare as nothing but a bit of fluff, a deranged mutt that didn’t know it had snuggled up to a lion. Both knights settling disturbed eyes on Alexandra.

They might be from the same Order as Alexandra, pray to the same god, and hate the same people, but that didn't mean they trusted her. Wild and untamed, she was insane and unpredictable. No bodyguard wanted that around their principle.

Smoothly kneeling, Alexandra bowed her head in submission to the Bishop. “Will you bless me, father?” The quiet words were marbled with vulnerability. One day this man would turn from her, but she hoped today wasn’t that day.

“Of course, my child.” If Cesare hadn’t been looking for it, he’d never have detected the hesitation in the priest’s voice. Laying his hand on her head, the priest was careful to keep it only to the briefest of touches.

Lord God

Bless this child of blood and steel.

Let her find your grace in the midst of carnage.

Guide her along your path when the storms roll in and darkness obscures the way.

May she ever dwell within the house of the Lord.

Amen

Cesare was the only one to say ‘Amen’. The guards kept conspicuously quiet, unwilling to support any blessings for the mad thing that knelt in front of the Bishop. They might respect its power and ability, but that was nothing more than the understanding they held for a shark. You respected it, but that didn't make it a person.

Getting back to her feet, she gave Cesare a brief smile of thanks as she came to his side. The Bishop looked between the two of them. “You must be Cesare; do you also want a blessing?”

Smiling tightly, his eyes cold. “I’m not Christian.”

The two guards tensed at his words. They felt the slow beat of the threat sharpening the summer day into a razor. Smiling serenely, the Bishop was unfazed by the words or their meaning, eyes taking in the space between Alexandra and Cesare.

“Surely you're not an atheist?” There was a knowing twinkle in the Bishops eyes, a little like a cat playing with a mouse under its claws.

“No, I know God's alive and well. We just parted ways soon after I was born,” Cesare said, feeling Alexandra stiffen next to him.

“You blame him.” It was a statement not a question. “You think if he's as powerful as people say, he should've protected you, loved and sheltered you from the worlds cruelty.”

Cesare shrugged; eyes boring into the Bishop. “I would've settled for being lubed up before he fucked my ass.”

The morning went glass still, profane, contemptuous, and disgusting, his words shit on their faith. The guards rose onto the balls of their feet, attack dogs testing the leash. Hands slid down to waists with deliberate, lethal intention. Alexandra tensed with murderous need, which way she'd go was anyone's guess.

Throwing his head back, the Bishop howled with laughter. A great belly laugh that shattered the violent air. The guards eased away from their ready stance, Alexandra following a heartbeat behind.

Smiling, the Bishop dismissed the others with his single-minded focus on Cesare. “Many people feel God's done nothing for them. They have terrible lives of violence, abuse, hunger, and despair. They raise their fists and curse his name. I always ask them, what have you done for God.” His gesture took in Cesare from toes to hoodie cloaked skull. “He gave you life, the ball's in your court. If you take his gifts and spurn his affections, don't blame him for a life lived outside his glory. Walk away if you want, but don't curse the God you've never tried to repay for the gift of life.”

“From what I hear, it’s a good walk to the altar. Shall we start?” Taking control of the situation, the priest easily moved the group along as his guards glared from the other side of the iron wrought fence. The Bishop walked beside Cesare, keeping the boy between him and the homicidal Alexandra.

“Tell me about the Furies.” It wasn’t so much a question as an order.

Despite the command, Alexandra stayed silent at Cesare's side. The Bishops eyes sharpened at the show of loyalty. Her commitment to Cesare was solid and sure enough that there was no doubt her Lord would take care of the request.

The Bishop was strong in the way men wanted to be. He didn’t believe in faith; he lived its reality. There was no doubt what he'd die for or what he’d kill for. Knowing himself in a way beyond most people, thousands of hours of reflection, bleeding for his ideals, and ordering his brother to their death, had hardened the man. Centuries of command had pounded that blood soaked knowledge into a dense, hardened rock. This was the kind of man others followed.

“What do you want to know?” Cesare asked, tossing the ball into the priest’s court. He wouldn't offer any weapons the Bishop didn't already have.

Smiling, the man refused to take offense at the dodge. “If you meant to keep your rebellion against the established order secret, you failed horribly. The stories of your triumphant fights have spread through the moon shadows. I doubt there's an Umbrae Lunae alive that hasn't seen tapes of your fights. Or heard the stories of your battles with the Thagirion.”

Pointedly, the man looked at Cesare. “You included a vampire in the Sanguine Nativitate that's never been done before.” Shaking his head, wonder lit his eyes. “It's something I'll never forget ... watching one of my own take that hallowed field. We've fought for centuries to get into the Sanguine Nativitate. Money, treaties, alliances, lands, we offered everything we had but our faith, for nothing. Tainted, good enough to kill for them, but not worth letting into the house.” The Bishop watched Cesare for a long minute as his words trailed off.

“You did what we've never been able too. Alexandra will hold the honor of my race, there isn't a vampire that doesn't know her story now. She'll go down in our history with every child knowing her name, but everyone knows you were the one to kick the door open for her.” There was an awe in his voice. The world had shifted under his feet, a dream of hazy wonder flashing into blood soaked reality. Cesare had killed the world they'd lived in, changing it radically from what it was. Not for honor, God, or equal rights, but because Alexandra was his friend. There was nothing he wouldn't offer her.

“Given the sudden, unmatched prominence of Alexandra's profile. It's wondered what the Furies goals are, and if they're in accord with Christ and the Order of the Dragon.” Sharply edged blue sapphires, the Bishops eyes stared holes into the boy.

Cesare nodded in understanding, Alexandra tensing beside him. It wasn’t quite a threat, but it wasn’t far from it either. Alexandra wasn’t some kid off the street, she came from a noble family, a feared organization, and a faith that had clawed its way to supremacy. She couldn’t throw her support behind just anything because she didn’t represent only herself. Her sudden stardom made the powers she served nervous.

“The Furies have a simple objective, to see the students free of harassment, bullying, and beatings.” The Bishop raised a sardonic eyebrow. “That’s the platform, each member’s private goals fold neatly into the overall strategy. Alexandra needs to show there's more to being Christian than blood and humiliation. Helping others and protecting those weaker than herself allows her to re-market your faith.”

Humming thoughtfully to himself, the Bishop mulled over Cesare’s words. “What about the akatharton’sgoals?”

“Anastasia’s goals are her own and none of your concern.” The sun seemed to dim at the eldritch force of the words, shadows stretching out from shaded trees, reclaiming land taken by the day.

“I disagree, the objectives of Alexandra’s teammates are exactly my concern. For better or worse, Alexandra's the image of the Order. She has the potential to change thousands of years of stagnation, to bring the Order into a new era. We're seen as rabid dogs riddled with the disease of Christianity. This is the first, and maybe only chance, we have to reenter society.”

Cesare rolled his shoulders, bleeding off tension. “I would never do anything to tarnish Alexandra’s image, or let anyone else around me hurt the things she cherishes.” Sharpening, his words stripped the air of warmth, threading the morning with cancerous poison. “I’m willing to do whatever's necessary for Alexandra to achieve her goals, no matter what those goals are. The same goes for Anastasia. If you have an issue with that and want to pull Alexandra out of the Furies, I’m perfectly willing to adjust my goals. We've had more several groups willing to back all kinds of plans.”

Alexandra smiled tightly at his side, the bared threat thrilling her. The Bishop held his eyes for a minute before nodding slowly. While the Bishop had the power to pull Alexandra out of the group, Cesare had the power to kill the Orders revival. If they pulled Alexandra from the Furies, Cesare would gut them, he'd paint them as killers, genocide mad things bent on destroying the Umbrae Lunae, slander their name with shit out of sheer spite.

The Bishop wanted control of the Furies. No one in power could see the Furies shaping the world and not want to control them. Power made saints into gluttons, they could never get enough, the Bishop was no different. While Cesare was giving the Order more than any other group had before, the Bishop didn’t hungered for more.

This wouldn't be the last time Cesare faced the Orders demands. Alexandra opened him up to the powers that made her so feared. Christianity had won its place in the world by fighting for every scrap they got, doing whatever it took to get what they wanted. It was a brutal warlord, killing and raping through the ages, unstoppable, all powerful. Alexandra was worth bringing into the Furies, despite the baggage.

With a nod, Cesare gave Alexandra the go ahead. With his permission, she filled the Bishop in on what the Furies actually did. Cesare trusted the vampire to stay away from the private things hoarded as treasures by the few that knew them.

They passed the walk in a long story of people saved, bullies beat down, cheaters brought to justice, scandals uncovered, and power taken. It was a long list and the Bishops interest sharpened with the realization that the stories for once had been less fantastical than reality. They’d reached the back of the Vulpes by the time Alexandra finished.

“I'll go on alone.” the man said, looking down the path. “I'll pray on what you've told me.” With that, the man moved down the trail, black uniform swallowed by the forest.

“Do you think he'll pull me from the team?” Alexandra asked quietly after the man had disappeared.

“No.” Sitting with his back to a convenient tree, Cesare's word filled the silence. “He’s smart enough to know he has too much to lose and nothing to gain by pulling you from the team.”

Following his example, Alexandra shyly took a seat next to him with their shoulders touching. “Maybe we could go over the latest booklet you gave me?” she asked hopefully.

For the next few hours they worked on the latest mission he’d given her. He’d kept her supplied with them as he continued to expand her tactical mind. She'd taken to the lessons with an almost religious dedication, keeping the books even when she’d finished the lesson.

The loyalty she had for him scared him, the importance she placed into his words. Despite the fear, he gloried in her support. She was beautiful, supernaturally graceful, and effortlessly lethal. That she was utterly insane only made her more desirable, an acquired taste like the rush of a razor opening flesh, or the bite of the flame as it charred skin. You either loved to hurt or you were a vanilla bitch.

It was after midday when the Bishop came out of the forest. There was a grace about him, a freeness of spirit that only came from communion with god. It was the borrowed glory of something greater than the petty lives of the things that crawled the earth, more meaningful than the simple joys of life. The sun lingered on the young-looking man as if caressing his face.

They fell into step with the Bishop as he passed them. Thoughtfully, the Bishop looked over at Cesare without giving Alexandra a glance. “You've done more to improve the Orders image than anyone has before. Yet, I think you may be the greatest threat to its future. You're not Christian, but you go out of your way to help the weak, the helpless, to care for those who have no one. In some ways, I find myself shamed by your actions.” The man took a seat on a stone bench with a sigh.

“We send a student to Primrose every now and then. More to gauge the state of our image than because we have any hope of belonging. The intelligence we collect on the other races and reminding them that we are still strong, is worth the abuse the squire takes. But we don’t send people here to look after the weak or the powerless. We don’t send them here to administer to the souls of the children. We don’t send them out of Christ's love, we send them for the tactical advantage.” The Bishop met Cesare’s eyes sadly before looking out over the grounds.

“We've fought for centuries to protect the faithful, but somewhere we lost the belief that our greatest weapon was not the sword but the word of God. Good works were replaced with the need to strike back at our oppressors. Your actions shame me,” the Bishop murmured.

“And then there's your taking Alexandra as your vassal. Never has a knight, even a squire, given their allegiance to someone outside the Order. Certainly, no Dracul has ever sworn allegiance to any non-vampire. It … troubles many in the Order that our most gifted weapon has sworn to you.” Clasping his hands, the Bishop met Cesare’s eyes. “Tradition gives her the right to choose anyone. But many believe the power of vampires should remain in the hands of vampires.” Alexandra watched the campus as if the conversation wasn't happening next to her.

“I don’t understand,” Cesare said.

The Bishop nodded with a smile. “I know. A vampire can swear allegiance to only one Lord. The more vampires you have, and the stronger they are, the higher your standing in the shadowy corners of the Order. Each faction has their own army of sworn knights. As long as their Lords orders don't go against God or the Order, they're within their rights to have them serve them in any way they please.”

Shaking his head, the Bishop’s eyes briefly went to Alexandra. “She wants to be by your side. She chose you despite having her pick of Vampiric Lords. She knew it was against her people’s traditions, and she did it anyway. An oath of loyalty is the greatest gift a knight can give, and she gave it to you. Your honor is her honor. If you are strong, her strength grows, if you're proven weak, she's lessened. Your success and failures will uplift or taint her equally.”

Cesare sat back, mind reeling at the implications. He’d known it was a big deal, but he hadn’t understood how fucking massive the responsibility was. Every decision he made would have to include the possible blow back on her. Alexandra hadn't weaseled her way into his life, she'd kicked the fucking door down and demanded dinner. Coming closely on that was the crawlingly, humbling knowledge, that she believed in him more than anyone ever had.

“I performed her baptism. When her madness was proven, we deliberated for years on what to do. Most think she should be consigned to God, purified with fire. If she'd been any less gifted ...” Hot, thick hatred, moved sluggishly through Cesare’s veins at the casual words.

“You're scared of her?” The words slipped through the air with the softness of an assassin’s blade.

“She used to play with a boy when she was young, it was natural they'd train together as they grew older. In the middle of a sparring session, she reached out and twisted his head off. The boy fell to the ground, drenching her in blood. Holding his head, she watched the boy’s body grow still. We fear her because we don’t understand her. People don't fear guns because they control them. Wild things can't be controlled. If you'd seen her butcher that boy, you’d fear her too.” The Bishop stared deeply into Cesare's eyes before giving a slight shake of his head. “Or maybe not, you have more than a touch of the wild about you too.”

Cesare reached out, taking Alexandra’s hand in his. She clamped down with desperate strength, letting him know the fear she refused to show. Fear that this would scare him away. Fear of the one thing she couldn’t fight, loneliness. “I don’t believe in organizations, gods, or religions. I believe in people. She might be a tiger, but she’s my tiger.” He slipped his hand from Alexandra’s grip and ran it down her hair as she hissed approval.