New Blood Bracket R2: The International vs. Nightcast

There was no better time than quality time with family. The custom for the Villeneuves was to drop anchor in a new land and each family member would have his or her own mission to carry out. They often worked in pairs, or trios, but never since Vespasian had become a spy did he ever have the pleasure of working with his entire family on the same mission. Yet here they were tonight, Esme, Alix, and their three children Maelle, Ludivine, and Vespasian himself, all under the employment of the Corone Rangers. They cared nothing about this Civil War or any of these other conflicts. If Zem'Xund himself gave them something they could do together they'd be on the necromancer's side in a flash... perhaps that may have been an exaggeration. They did have a conscience, but they all placed quite a bit of value on things they could do together. For Vespasian, all five Villeneuves working together was like playing a big trick on the rest of the world, and he couldn't help but smile as his big sister played her best trick on Erik Carlyle, a wealthy financier of the Empire's war efforts.

The dimples appeared on his face and he shook his head as he followed a comfortable distance behind Maelle and Erik. Five days ago Erik was on top of the world with a two hundred gold piece hair cut, a seven thousand gold piece suit, and a ten thousand gold piece whore of a wife. Now he was in dirty scraps for clothing as he stumbled from the yellow light of one streetlamp to another, and leaning on a young woman half his size for support. This downward spiral started at the beginning of the business week, when he passed out in the middle of a high end Radasanthian cafe. He woke up soon after in an infirmary he had never heard of, and a sickness he had never heard of. Neither did the neglectful hospital staff. His room mate was a Raiaeran man with sapphire eyes. Those eyes were hard to forget. Just the day before, that Raiaeran died with his eyes open and staring straight at Erik, and it was then that he overheard the nurses speaking of some kind of plague. A plague strong enough to kill an Elf was certainly strong enough to kill a Human. Erik thought he was going to die in that infirmary. He tried to escape, but he was already too weak to pull off an adequate escape. As soon as he stood his vision gave way. Hope came in the form of a beautiful nurse with amber eyes who claimed to hold the cure, and if Erik wanted it he would have to compensate her in some way. That was how he found himself here.

The story was completely different from Vespasian's side. It was all his doing. Erik's black out was caused by a tranquilizer that the middle sister, Ludivine, had slipped into his coffee. His parents, Esme and Alix posed as doctors, and flashed forged documents of status in order to carry him off in a carriage conveniently parked just outside the cafe. They took him to an abandoned building not far from the center of Radasanth, where they fed him only enough to keep him alive for the next couple of days. Esme took the form of a Raiaeran and became his room mate. He and Maelle, who posed as a nurse, quickly befriended the aristocrat. That was how they found out that the majority of Erik's wealth came from his museum. He was once an archeologist, who found artifacts from the far reaches of the world then sold them at ridiculous prices. Now he employed his own team of archeologists and used his museum as a market to sell the items they found. Just when the aristocrat became comfortable with his surroundings Esme faked his death. It was then that Maelle claimed that she held the cure, but she was skeptical of his claims of wealth. By this time Erik was tired, terrified, malnourished, and more than willing to prove to her that he had the means to pay her whatever price she named. So she 'snuck' him out of the hospital, and accompanied him to his museum conveniently located only a few blocks away. He was in too much of a panic to ask why in all these years did he not know that little building was an infirmary. He did not ask how it was so difficult for him to get out in the past few days, but when she made an escape no one was around. There were so many holes in the story, but Maelle had him so completely convinced that his mind simply omitted those details.

“Alright.” Maelle said with a smile on her face. “We're almost there. Now we'll just go in there and ask one of the curators for a cash advance or something.”

“No. Never.” The aristocrat shook his head so wildly that his shaggy blonde hair slapped Maelle in the face. He looked across the street and gazed into white light emanating from the giant glass showcase windows. They showcased paintings and artifacts from faraway lands. “There's a gallery showing in there right now. I can't show my face like this.”

“What else are we supposed to do? The banks are closed, you have no access to your money notes or lines of credit at this hour, and you have no gold or silver on you.” Maelle helped him down as they sat on the curb. She looked at him with droopy eyes of sadness. “I shouldn't have done this to you, but I have mouths to feed at home, and you can't imagine how little I get paid. Maybe you could give me one of those items in the museum?”

“You've never been to a museum before, have you?” Erik said in between fits of panting. His forehead was glazed with sweat. “The items of real value are rarely put on display. They're just replicas put up by illusionist magic. If we need some real collateral we're going to have to get it from my vault in the basement... Oh my god I could have screwed you over just now by giving you a fake item. Now I know I'm dying.”

“I appreciate your honesty.” Maelle said as she wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “Why don't we just get something from your vault then?”

“The vault is only accessible from the back. The guards there know me, but the lock is at the receptionist's desk in the front. I'd still be showing myself in this pitiful state.”

It became painstakingly obvious to Maelle that Erik was one of those extremely vein people that would rather die than look bad. It was finally time for her to compromise. She glanced at Vespasian, who was nothing more than a midnight pedestrian to Erik, and she spoke in a raised volume so her little brother could hear. “Maybe we could wait until everyone clears the front lobby.”

“Unlikely but possible.” Erik said as he burried his head in his knees.

Vespasian took Maelle's actions as a sign. He needed to get that front lobby clear or else they wouldn't get into the vault tonight. He made his way across the street with his hands buried in his pockets. A figure moved about in the shadows between the streetlamps, but he wasn't startled. It was Ludivine. She had been stalking them in the darkness for quite some time, and now that she had someone to beat up, like the guard detail in the back of the building, she was on the move. He paused before the threshold of the museum. He straightened the peaked lapel on his navy long coat, slicked back his hair, and tapped his sheathed rapier out of habit. The young spy stepped into the room and was immediately surrounded by beauty. Beautiful décor, beautiful exhibits, and beautiful people. Somewhere in this crowd of three dozen beautiful people his mother and father were planting little seeds of manipulation. They knew from the beginning of the mission that if they were going to steal something valuable from this man they would have to be able to do it when his venue was open, so they needed to be able to control those occupying the venue at the time. He caught a familiar voice in his ear.

“Have you ever spoken to the brunette curator? She's wonderful. She knows every interesting detail about every piece in this place. I think she's going to be giving a tour tonight, but I'm not sure. I haven't looked into it.” The easygoing voice came from a man of dark brown eyes, well kept black hair, and chiseled facial features. It was Vespasian's father, Esme, in Human form. Instead of making his presence known to his father, Vespasian continued his way through the crowd.

The young spy made his way to a large flight of stairs where a woman stood a few steps above the others. Her vibrant green eyes were a perfect contrast to her silky auburn hair. She stood over a few subjects, enticing them with humerus anecdotes. Their laughs were heard throughout the vast lobby, but that was a good thing. Alix Villeneuve was preparing her captive audience.

“Pardon my interruption, curator.” Vespasian said with a humble tone of servitude. “I believe everyone for the evening is in attendance. We're ready to begin the tour.”

“Is it that time already? Well in that case...” Alix took two more steps up the stairs, hoping to make eye contact with the entire group. She then projected her voice, raising her volume but not her tone. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please? Before we begin the tour I'd like to thank our caterers for the fabulous cheese and wine. Give them a hand. It was particularly satisfying this evening.”

The crowd complied and gave applause as the kitchen staff acknowledged them. “I believe the cheese of choice this evening was a Yarbourough Blue Cheese, and the featured wine was a Raiaeran Red Grape. With that in mind I wouldn't recommend getting very close to anyone when speaking to them.”

The crowd reacted humorously. Alix continued. “We're going to begin the tour of the museum by first heading to the second floor, which is a change from past tours, but I guarantee you won't regret it.”

The bodies emptied out of the room in a timely manor. The five day time line for the mission allowed Alix to get in good with the museum staff, and in Erik's absence she was able to convince them that she was the most recent hire. She also had enough time to research the exhibits in the museum, so the audience would have a truly informative and entertaining tour. Vespasian maintained a smile as some of the city's most privileged passed him by. He nodded to his father when the two of them made eye contact. As soon as the room was empty he made his way out the front again, and then around to the back of the building. The back alley was a tunnel of darkness with a refuge of golden torchlight on the other side. Two large men lay on the ground with a mist of black abyss shifting above them. Ludivine stepped out of the mist clad in midnight blue cloth. The locks of her long orchid hair managed to cover one of her piercing jade eyes, allowing the middle sister of the family to look even more menacing than usual. A great thump came from the large metallic door the security was guarding.

“It looks like your mission was a success.” She said with a crooked smile. “Congratulations, you little mastermind.”

“Why thank you. I couldn't have done it without everyone's trust.” Vespasian said with a smile and a nod. “Care to enjoy the spoils with me?”

“That's okay. You deserve the first look. I need to find somewhere to put these boys to bed.” Ludivine disappeared into the darkness once again, though this time not as gracefully since she was dragging two bodies with her.

Vespasian wrapped his hands around the giant silver bars of the door. Their coldness sent a shiver down his spine as his boots dug into the ground. He sent his shoulders back in one massive heave backwards. The door screeched in resistance but moved nonetheless. A rush of air sent the ends of his coat fluttering about. The vault was not just a place for Erik Carlyle to store valuables. It was the place from which his illusions ran. A small flight of stairs led to a perfect cube of a room. The walls and floor were a white marble like substance that were well lit from a crystal chandelier above their heads. It was a spacious vault, for all the artifacts and art were against the wall. Each item was propped up and encased in glass. Vespasian definitely had intentions of taking it all, but his mission dictated that he find a few items above the rest. He reached into his pocket to reveal a small piece of paper and read the list. That was when he heard another in his vicinity.

His eyebrows lowered down creating a sinister veil of shadow over his eyes. His right hand reached across his waist and around the pommel of his rapier. Vespasian just hoped it was one of his relatives entering.