For want of a crown, a kingdom can be lost.
We all serve masters, those who rule over us and command us to do what they desire.
A Prince rules our dark little world. He or she watches over the world of Kindred, ensuring the masquerade is followed. We all serve them with loyal resolution. Unquestioning, undaunted by the throne they inhabit.
We move up and down the ranks to ensure that the best inhabit the right posts, to further ensure our power in the world.
So, what happens when a Prince begins to faulter in their duty?
A battle ensues for their place. A game of shadows, fought in the darkest corners of the world, out of sight of the mortals.
We cut the throats of fellow kindred in the desire of power, of titles.
We may serve the Prince, they may be the master of a city, but we all watch for the right moment so that we may one day claim that spot.
A Prince is only as strong as the Kindred that serve them. When the Kindred start to rebel, their position falls into question.
I’ve been tasked with guarding our Prince, to ensure her positions. But she seems to be faltering, and now may be my time to strike.
I see the way you serve your own master. Unquestioning in their goal, even when anyone watching can tell that your master cares nothing for you, and has lied to you.
But your devotion is unquestionable. You follow like a puppy on a leash, doing everything your King commands. You may hunt for the title King all you wish, but when your master comes, you will bow your knee.
You serve your master’s vision. He says jump, you’ll say how high. A goal to restore a god, but at the whims of his murderer.
Hypocrisy that carries a crown will only be a kingdom built on sand.
When I see that crown, I see my place in bringing down my master, to show how she has failed to serve the Kindred of our city.
You see the crown, and you see a trinket to continue serving another master.
A crown for a cowardly king. I have seen what happens when a king.
A crown can blind one to what is require of the position.
When we meet, you’ll find that my desire to rule and your desire to give your rank to a dead god will mean you’ll fall.
For when your goal is not to serve yourself, but to serve false gods and king, your goal is nothing.
It’s an empty, hollow place. Ripe for the taking of a master killer.
Like my Prince, you’ve long forgotten your place and your position. And now the sharks that circle that throne smell the blood.
We hunger for what you hunger for, but our hunger is more ravenous.
So turn your face to the false god you serve.
For the crown of king will fall upon it’s darkest servent.