Sophia d'Auxerre

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*Nobody could deny it was a hot situation.
Quite literally.
The perfect, ivory undead body of Sophia d'Auxerre was smoking like a chimney when she galloped back to the crusader camp to the great horror of early-waking ghouls. She practically flew off the horse and into her reinforced carriage, surrounded by the puzzled gasps of her mercenaries and the desperate screams of little Fiona.
But she made it. It was all that mattered. Quite possibly the closest call in all her un-life, but she made it, much like through the titanic battle beforehand.
Much like through everything God has hurled at her "damned" daughter so far.
This single thought was all that filled her mind when the pain finally ceased.
The sun wasn't fully up yet, but its early rays, distorted by both clouds and horizon, already began their merciless assault on her vampiric Fortitude.
Yet, no lasting damage was done. Given just a few more seconds, she might very well have received horrific burns.
This way, the daytime sleep was quite pleasant and ordinary, and a few glasses of blood were sufficient to refill her pool of powers. However, she had little time to contemplate the happenings that befell upon her the previous, eventful night, for the moment Fiona's worrying chattering ended due to her leaving the carriage, she was already back with a rather serious and undeniably startled face.*

-/Ita/ Signora... the Lord Anselm is outside, wishing to speak with you. And I don't know what it's about... he wouldn't tell me.

*The poor-poor little creature, bless her still-beating heart.*

Blood pool refilled.

+1 Willpower.
_________________

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*Ah finally, Magdeburg. The travels had been long and while there was no real exhaustion from it, there certainly had been boredom. There had been a couple of things that broke the monotony, the bandit attack certainly was one. Where she trusted her servants and didn't mind speaking with them, constantly being locked in a carriage with the two for so long could exhaust anyone.
She drunk in the sights that she could see through the carriage window, having always been one who loved the thought of travelling and visiting the world. Books could only ever tell so much without experiencing it. Her eyes study the patrols that pass, how busy the city is even in what is meant to be the silence of the night.

As they arrive at the inn, she of course leaves the unpacking to the others. As she exits the carriage, she automatically pulls her coat around her, so very used to playing the role of human now that even these simple gestures are automatic. Her hair whips round her face in the cold winters wind and her gaze is drawn to the impressive cathedral. She pauses to study it for a moment.
The buildings were always beautiful. In her moment of pause she reflects upon the last time she attended a mass.... The subject of her faith often occupied her mind for nights at a time, dwelling on what could be and what is. Often weighing out if they are blessed or cursed. These thoughts she kept to herself. Naturally when she was younger she had tried to discuss these things with Marcus, but he had been so sure about his blessing that he never really indulged in deep conversation about religion.
She snaps herself from her thoughts, turning and entering the inn. She studies the room, her gaze lingering upon the coronation display in appreciation before seeking the inn master.
As she finishes procuring the rooms, she turns to the messenger. She raises her brow and chuckles lightly when he finishes his message.*

<My, my. Eyes are indeed, everywhere.>

-/Ger/ So swift of you, my thanks. You may relay that we will be attending.

*She smiles to the messenger and offers him some coinage for his "trouble". She decides that it perhaps would not go down very well if she immediately marches the guards elsewhere and allows them their night of relaxation from the long journey, though does inform the guard captain that they will speak the next evening.
She stops her servants as they pass her.*

-/Ita/ Make sure to wear your fine garments tomorrow, not your travelling clothes. You want to make a good impression, do you not?

Continued

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*Like the celebrated conqueror, Sophia gracefully marches back into her carriage, leaving the rabble to clean up the mass. Because clearly, most of the difference between the cowards standing outside and the mutilated bodies laying around in pieces is that the latter at least had the bravery - and foolishness - to attack the entourage.*

-/Ita/ Oh, you won't have to endure them much longer, Signora.

*Notes still-oblivious Fiona.*

-/Ita/ Unless you want to use them on our way back.

*The way back. Indeed, there will be a way back, but one far more lengthy than Sophia's servants would currently suspect. The atonishment on their faces shall probably be amusing when the day comes.
And it comes soon now.
The little caravan continues on to the north, crossing Styria and Ostmark, then entering Saxony by way of Bohemia. This winter is especially freezing and the non-ghouled horses do suffer from the cold, but they were expensive enough not to fail their mistress. In slightly more than a week since the road incident, without further delays, the carriage reaches its destination.
The City of Magdeburg.
Founded four hundred years ago by the great Charlemagne himself, the massive walls of this town weathered and withstood assaults of Slav, Magyar and rival German alike. Richer and more fortified than most Imperial towns she's seen so far, this place is clearly preparing for the upcoming Crusade right now, flying both local and Imperial banners and having its defensive positions strongly manned. Even at night. Especially at night.
Still, the late hour makes getting through the gates relatively burdenless, although carts and persons still go about in- and outwards. Very few modern cities exhibit such activity at night, which might also serve as a hint of strong Cainite presence. One of the guards takes a glance inside the carriage, bowing his helmeted head to the lady inside and barking a word to the coach driver.*

-/Ger/ Continue!

*Standard protocol and unwritten customs dictate that a vampire having freshly entered another's domain make her presence known as soon as possible, but it's past midnight and Sophia has a letter of direct invitation. Lord Jürgen - or whoever else, in case the town's new Prince is absent - will certainly not bite, if Sophia only appears next night, having rested out the weariness of the journey. It would seem that this little voyage took far more time than expected. Perhaps the horses could have used that blood better than her oafs. Oh well. The Ventrue wouldn't dare leave without her anyway. Or so she hopes.
Making their way across the still-busy town towards an acceptable inn, they pass along many clerical and military personnel, some of them moving in quite sizable patrols, marching along the dark streets. Even the beggars crawl out of their holes, though there aren't inordinately many of them. Sophia's heroic mercenaries make themselves useful at shoving them aside.
All in all, though she hasn't been to this place yet, Sophia is seeing the tales and news quite reinforced by her initial experiences. Sitting on the border of both Ventrue and Germanic lands, making this town a symbol of Imperial might is not only a question of strategic, but also of political importance. Even now, Cainites from all over the region flock here and the town law of Magdeburg is being imported by dozens of newfound settlements throughout Central- and Eastern Europe, signifying the prestige of this merchant- and military hub.

Ambience

It doesn't take much of an asking-around to find out the location of Magdeburg's finest inn, which is where the carriage is then headed. Located in the city centre, with excellent view on the grand cathedral, the Inn To The Golden Sceptre is a large, old, partly stone building with three floors and rich decoration. In fact, its facade is a practical brazier masterpiece, displaying the coronation ceremony of Otto I.
Its general area is also free of the many construction sites found all over the city; in the spring of last year, a huge conflagration burned down many of its wooden buildings, also conveniently destroying Cedric the Brujah, former Prince of Magdeburg, allowing Jürgen, Childe of Hardestadt to move in and claim the city and its lands for the Fiefs of the Black Cross.
While the ghouls dismount and carry, and Sophia sees to securing accommodations with the master of the house by the name of Karl, a messenger enters the inn and makes his way across the crowded hall of drinking, gambling and chatting nobles and merchants towards the most recent lady of elegance. Straight and to the point, he informs Sophia that she's expected at the Grand Cathedral of Magdeburg by midnight, the following day.
Talk about timely arrivals...
At any rate, her personal servants are dying of curiousity, especially since their matrona was never really known for favouring grand church services. Quite the contrary. And the mercenary captain will presumably seek her out as well to discuss their further terms of contract. A variety of options stand before her now with regards to her ghouls and henchmen, alongside a handful of things yet to organize before the great event tomorrow.*

Ambience
_________________

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*Sophia leaves the men to their cheering, turning and moving back to the carriage after beckoning to the women beside her. She eyes the marking that has been made by the axe before glancing over her shoulder at the guards. She speaks lowly to both the women in a far less sweet tone that she used with the mercenaries*

-/Ita/Possibly... Depending on the leash they are on when they are gifted.

*Sophia eyes the guards a moment before entering the carriage. As she sits, she smooths down her robe, her humble demeanour having vanished when she's in the view of just her personal servants. She glares coldly toward the curtained window, listening to the men before rolling her eyes. Such fools. Despite their armour and egotistical behaviour, they are all still pathetic cowards. *

<That will soon change...Still, it was some entertainment I suppose...>


*With a glance at the moonless sky , a subtle but wicked smirk shows upon her lips.*

<Yes, it was very entertaining, the expressions upon the faces of the imbecile's who dared attack us more than anything.... >

*Her mind for a moment flickers back to the look of shock upon the face of the man who opened the carriage door, only to be impaled. A soft chuckle of amusement escapes her before she shakes her head, brushing a lock of hair from her face. She leans back against the bench in the carriage and looks to Fiona and Adrianna with that same smirk.*

-/Ita/ Let us continue, shall we?

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*The air freezes for a moment, while "Saint" Sophia blesses her faithful disciples with yet another holy revelation. It is as though all the others too, not just the young mercenary Paolo - what an ironically fitting name - have just been mesmerized by the less-than-holy powers of the Damned.*

-/Ita/ Yes, signora... you are so right. It was... a momentary confusion. I can recall clearly now. Your purity, your chastity, your divinity drove out their daemonic possessors, alongside their black, tainted souls!

*The air freezes again. This might have been slightly overdone; or who knows? The quiet little merc-boy just might have some innate, formerly-concealed poetic talents.
At any rate, the still-dumbfounded bulk of this mighty bodyguard troupe resumes cheering yet again - just for good measure -, while the coachman gradually attempts to calm the horses and make the carriage "operable" again. Two of the cronies see to the removal of corpses from the way.
It is now Fiona's turn to comment.*

-/Ita/ Looks like these boys will spread quite the reputation for you once in Magdeburg!
_________________

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*Sophia raises her delicate fingers up to Adrianna to silence her as she keeps her gaze upon the young boy. She incorporates her servants low words to show something else to the guards. She presses a hand to her chest, to her heart as her other hand places her slender fingers to her lips in a soft gasp as she studies the boy with an acting cautious gaze, she addresses Adrianna in a low voice, but loud enough to be overheard.*

-/Ita/Yes... I think you're right my dear....

*Walking slowly up to the young boy, she reaches out her ivory fingers to cup the boys face, stroking her thumb reassuringly, but to also turn his gaze to meet her bright blue eyes. She moves close to him, most likely seeming to the others that she's studying the young man out of concern.*

Dobás:

Eredeti dobás sorozat: 8d10 Rögzített 10-Sided Dice Results: 8, 5, 1, 3, 7, 4, 10, 6 (Total = 44)

-/Ita/ You have the sight? What a frightening thing to have seen the demons leave the heathens bodies! My handmaiden-

*Sophia gestures to Adrianna offhandedly for the benifit of the other soldiers as she still strokes the boys cheek with such caring gentleness and concern. Within the boys mind she repeats the memory, since he's stubborn enough to cling to the reality of what happened. Instead of the shadow arms having ripped through the bandits, they of course ripped from them, spirits escaping! But of course, the Lord must have purged them, surely?*

-/Ita/ Has told me whispers of such things before. Truly the Lord is with us, you seen the heathens be devoured by the very demons that lay in their hearts! But see how you all of your brethren in arms now stand. Even those wounded... Pure in the Lords gaze.

*Sophia places both of her hands upon her cross and takes a deep "breath", sighing dramatically as she looks oh so very thankful, she would look like she would weep if it weren't for the fact that she was in public.*

-/Ita/ Yes, the Lord blesses us greatly! Do not be frightened, for you can see how he favours each of you...

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*Indeed, her masterfully-performed act of humility only seems to lift Sophia even further in the eyes of her Italian cronies. Some of them gather around her, while a few of them simply kneel down and begin to pray.
How adorable.*

-/Ita/ No! These demons and heretics fell before us!

*Oh, how swiftly they forget. "Details". As soon as they arrive, they will of course portray the whole ordeal as their own personal act of heroism. With a little divine assistance, as a reward for their immense piety.*

-/Ita/ We stand firm and true to our hearts and our faith!

-/Ita/ But what were those arms that came out of darkness and tore the bandits aside?

*Ah yes. The youngest of them all, merely a boy who barely spoke at all during the journey, but he's clearly the most perceptive of the lot.
Or honest.*

-/Ita/ Arms? What arms? I... I haven't seen anything. Only that a saint walks among us!

*Typical. Adrianna performs a silent sigh and whispers a few words.*

-/Fre/ They're not worthy of your games.
_________________

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*Sophia cringes inwardly as the mercenary kisses over her gore covered boots, her cringing does not reach her delicate, pale features though. She remains looking humble and assuming the usual "weak woman" role.
Her elegant fingers clutch around the glinting silver cross that hangs just below her throat, caressing it gently but obviously as she reaches her free hand down to the guard that has thrown himself at her feet.*

-/Ita/ No, my good men. Do not praise me, I am but a vessel for the Lord's work. It is to He who you should keep your praise. Hold your heads high, for the Lord watches over you all.

*She smiles softly, kindly as she strokes her fingers through the mans hair before raising and looking to the rest of the men. She can't help but inwardly smirk with some bitterness.*

<Oh if you could hear them Louys...>

*Her dream remains with her despite the dramtic events it seems. How irritating that such regrets... Are they regrets? Well, such thoughts remain. Back to the matter at hand. Molding these guards, imagine, scared of the dark....Tsk.
Continuing her humble demeanour, her azure gaze scans the mens faces.*

-/Ita/ Would you all allow a few heathens to break your strength, your bravery, under the Lords gaze?

*Moving a few strands of flaming hair from her face, she gestures to the bodies of the bandits...*

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*And then, she appears. In perfect torchlight provided by her two maids, Lady Sophia d'Auxerre exits the carriage to survey the battlefield. Indeed, most of the bandits have been killed so quickly and so brutally that their blood still flows thickly, swallowed by the white snow on the ground. Some of them are still struggling, before merciful death arrives at the hands of vengeful and agitated mercenaries.
Mercenaries who instantly snap at attention. As their mistress speaks, their gazes wander helplessly between her icy gaze and her décolletage, which is, of course, deliciously-sorted despite the winter cold.
Gradually, they begin to gather around, much more heartened by her words of praise and apparently fearless tone, despite what just happened.
And she's "only" a woman.
When she inconspicuously feeds her blood to the dying soldier, who, after coughing some of his own up, takes a deep breath and stands up, the remaining nine fly into a stunned ecstasy. One of them yells out, followed by the thunderous cheers of the rest.*

-/Ita/ She healed him. She healed him! It's a miracle!!

-/Ita/ Blessed Virgin Mary at the Throne of Our Lord, Jesus Christ! You sent us a real saint! Halleluyah!

-/Ita/ Lay on hands! Halleluyah! Halleluyah! Hooray!!

*The wounded mercenary, barely believing what happens, almost jumps Sophia in grateful joy, remembering his place in the last moment and instead lunging at her feet, kissing her traveling boots with religious fervor.
If Louys would be here to see this... what would he say? Would he curse her even further? Would he tear at his clothes and his hair, and renounce his whole heritage, his whole, witch-spawning bloodline?
Or perhaps... would he finally realize instead how she and her kind truly are blessed?*

-/Ita/ The Virgin be praised! She sent her to banish the black sorcery and resurrect this man! She must be a virgin, too!

-/Ita/ Saint Sophia of... of.. where are we?... of Styria!

*Swords are drawn again and launched into the dark sky. Truly, the effects of the Blood Bond and Cainite Presence can be devastating enough alone, but when combined... barely noticeably in the applause, Fiona, on the right of her lady, yet again unable to restrict herself, begins to giggle.*

Ambience
_________________

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*Releasing the darkness, Sophia holds up her dress a little as she steps out of the carriage, taking care to not get blood and gore stained upon her. A sigh with volume escapes her lips.*

<Always so... messy.>

*She takes a moment to study the surroundings. Her scanning gaze takes in the sights of the broken, twisted bodies of the foolish bandits that lay littered over the ground, some of their innards on show. Some of the men still pitifully cling to their barely used weapons.
She smirks lightly at the gruesome sight, taking amusement in how fragile the horde of bandits ended up being.
Hearing Adrianna's words, she turns to look toward the panicking mercenaries and those who are trying to tend to the wounded man.*

-/Ita/ Quite right, my dear. Tsk, I would have thought they'd have more backbone.

*She frowns lightly at the sight of the men, rolling her eyes.
Taking a moment to sort her appearance, bringing her flowing hair around her shoulders, (afterall, she must look fitting for the part!), and sorting her dress, she makes her way toward the crowd of guards.*

Dobás:

Eredeti dobás sorozat: 6d10 Rögzített 10-Sided Dice Results: 9, 6, 8, 5, 6, 1 (Total = 35)

-/Ita/ Good gracious! How thankful I am for your presence.

*Sophia looks over the guards with appreciative gaze, running her fingers through her flaming locks. She emanates her presence, her beauty and gratefulness. Gesturing to her servants who stand by the carriage, marked with some blood with the axe that was embedded into the side of it, she speaks:*

-/Ita/ Clearly when I was assured of the best guards, I was not lied to. I've never seen such bravery.

*She moves to the injured guard, leaning down to inspect the wound. She hides her annoyance at one of the gifts being scarred and instead wears a perfect mask of concern and worry, even placing her hand to her lips in a mock gasp. Subtly biting at her palm to draw blood. She withdraws it at the taste of her own blood, purring words:*

-/Ita/ Indeed such bravery, I am ever so grateful.

*Seeming to caress over his lips, she offers him the blood in her hand, moving her free hand to run her fingers through the mans hair. She turns up to the rest of the men.*

-/Ita/ My servants were worried that perhaps your courage wanes in this journey, surely this is not true?

*With a perfect look of concern she looks at each of the guards individually before looking back to the wounded man...*

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*It is worth noting that as girly and weak-hearted these personal ghouls can normally be, they will instantly snap to attention and gather themselves once they hear the reassuringly strict voice of their Matrona. Perhaps it is the conditioning, perhaps it is the fact they weren't completely ill-chosen, after all.
Whatever the case, Fiona and Adrianna do as they were told and crawl over into the corner half-behind Sophia. Luckily for them, the only side any bandits aimed for is the side they're preparing to face.
Firstly, an axe is thrown against the carriage door, causing some unfortunate aesthetic damage. When the peasant figures out he can open it much faster without any further violence, darkness falls. Even thicker darkness than a forest road under the new moon could ever provide, choking all mortals in- and just outside the cart. Fortunately, ghouls take to it far easier than the smelly unfortunates who thought the onslaught was a good idea.*

-/Ita/ Sorcery! Sorcery! Black magic!...

*Are probably the only words discernible to Sophia in the voice-storm outside as her Lasombra tentacles also spring to "life" and see to their joyful work. Most of the shouting and yelling is done in a foreign language, probably Slavonic, judging from the general area.
The thug breaking into the carriage is soon carried out of it by the Arm of Ahriman - through his throat -, impaling the second one behind him and letting the bodies hit the dust.
Outside, the other tentacles made a bloody spectacle. The few survivors run for their lives, screaming. Meanwhile, a passionate Fiona begins to enthusiastically applause.*

-/Ita/ Well done, Signora, very nice! You showed those ruffians good! God be praised... and you!

*Meanwhile, Adrianna slips away, making a cracking sound as she steps on a corpse's hand, returning almost immediately.*

-/Ita/ Half of the mercenaries are in panic, Matrona. One of them is dying from the arrow wound. It would be wise to... restore morale, if I may suggest.
_________________

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*The repetitiveness of the nights did nothing to distract her thoughts. On long travels she always thought too much, who wouldn’t when having to share the caravan with women who were absorbed in gossip between themselves. It had not been long since she had risen from her rest, wearing a far more simplified dress since she is just travelling but still, it was made of the finest materials. Just because she is travelling doesn’t mean she shouldn’t look good!
Since she had settled in the carriage though, she had found herself wrapped in memories of the past. A light frown marked her porcelain features as during her rest she had been forced to remember the hateful tone of his words and the fear that echoed in his eyes. She had thought with time they would fade, after all what difference would it have made now? She would not have accepted to him into the embrace... Would she? Hrm.*

<Damn you Louys, so easily swayed.>

*Of course she tried to banish such thoughts from her mind, but her delicate fingers twisted the silver cross that lay just below her throat.
Her distracted mind was soon brought to attention as there is a noticeable change in the atmosphere. The echoed cries resound and a thwack of arrows against the carriage makes her immediately disregard the thoughts of previous nights and fully focus upon this one.*

<Surely not... >

*Leaning over she moves back the curtain that covers the carriage windows, practically shoving Fiona out the way in irritation. It was a wonder that that woman could be counted on for safety... But the past spoke for itself. Her azure eyes scanned the darkness and noted the bandits as they began to clash with the mercenaries.*

<Oh just typical, slowing us down and damaging my gifts.>

*The frown remains as she quickly hikes up her skirt a little to give her better manoeuvrability. With another harsh shove, aimed toward Fiona, she gestures to both of her charges.*

-/Ita/ Remain together in the corner of the carriage, keep your heads, I shall have no panic!

*She warns the two women before glaring toward the door of the carriage, she can’t help but have a small hint of a smirk play upon her ruby lips.*

<Well... At least this provides some amusement...>

*A delicate finger touches the curtain of the carriage, subtly trying to count the bodies of the bandits but her gaze is drawn to the two that break off from their pack and dash toward the doors. With a soft, (but naturally dramatic) sigh, she shimmies to the center of the carriage and keeps her gaze set upon the door, the small smirk still resting upon her features as she waits for the doors to be pulled open.*

Dobás:

Eredeti dobás sorozat: 7d10 Rögzített 10-Sided Dice Results: 6, 3, 3, 4, 4, 8, 6 (Total = 34)

Dobás:

Eredeti dobás sorozat: 7d10 Rögzített 10-Sided Dice Results: 4, 10, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Total = 48)

*As soon as the carriage door is yanked open, the nights shadows thicken, concealing the view of the carriage's contents as well as obscuring the gazes off the mortals near by. With a narrow, cold gaze she looks to the bandit who dares open the door and stares him down for a pausing, fleeting moment. A combination of irritation at the fact perhaps some of her "gifts" have been damaged and that any mortal would dare try to steal from her... But amusement also. After all, they have broken the monotony of the journey... As well as interrupted the drivel that is conversation between her servants.

With cruel entertainment and a twist of her hands for flare, she conjures six twisting tentacles - Five outside, which writhe within the shadows and begin to reach out and embrace the bandits like a hungry serpent would to a mouse. The arms of shadow move swiftly, hunting those who dare damage her property, her living gifts. The tendrils begin ripping at the bandits, toying with them before cracking their ribs, suffocating them before removing the last of their air by slicing their throats.
Terrified yells echo through the night air as their bones and throats are crushed with sickening cracks before they are tossed out of the shadows into the embrace of the light air. Their bodies hitting the ground like ragdolls that have lost their appeal. Gurgled screams echo from those unlucky enough to be speared through their bodies and throats. Pools of blood and gore darken the ground where the bandits are tossed and gouged...

The last tentacle she summons within the carriage, where it twists like a viper before it makes its strike, brutally puncturing the throat of the bandit who stands at the open door and following through to spear his companion on the same shadow arm. Gurgle choking blubbers from both of them as blood drips from their mouths and Sophia wickedly indulges in the scent of it, watching the struggling bandits as they face their deaths before banishing the tentacle, allowing them to drop outside the carriage with revolting snaps of bones.

As the sounds of the clash die off, she allows the shadows to lift... but not quite fully, moving to the door of the carriage. She stands upon the fingers of the dead bandit that still clings to her carriage, with disgust she uses the tip of her shoe to push his hand off. She raises her gaze, to eye her surroundings and to see if any fools remain...*

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*The little ghoulling - when you choose a personal servant, you always make sure they're shorter than you - snaps out of it and remembers her place. Hastily looking away, down at the carnival, as if her mistress wouldn't even have any sort of important letters in her hand.*

-/Ita/ Immediately, Signora! Next you rise, I swear we'll be ready to go!

*And off she storms already, fetching the "things" of Sophia. She is in for a long night and a long day. But that is their purpose. They can sleep in the grave... unless they truly prove ambitious.
In the remaining hours of the night, Sophia changes her clothes, gathers some of her personal belongings, oversees the protections of her rich and elaborate carriage and the coffin within, gives her final orders and enters her slumber before the first rays of the sun arrive.
By next night, her ghouls already finished with their tasks; they're dead-tired, but ready to go. Outside await the requested ten Venetian mercenaries. Everything is already packed in and the driver is ready to go. As usual before a longer journey, in order to ensure her fullest protection, Sophia uses her mental powers to make the men drink her well-prepared blood, handing a large, filled cup of sweet, potent Vitae around like the Seven Hungarian Princes. Far stronger and far more passionate, the mercenaries mount up and their "beautiful lady" enters her carriage with her pair of ghouls. The journey begins.
Traversing the Po Valley is fast and thankfully eventless, though it takes a good few uses of Dominate to make sure the soldiers remain docile and decent. Every now and then, a village girl or random traveler serves as a secret meal for Sophia, only to awaken in the freezing dawn without any recollection of what just happened. Ten mounted warriors and a large carriage ensure that everybody stays out of the way.
The plan is to follow the eastern foothills of the Alps northward, crossing several Imperial provinces before entering Saxony. She's made many a journey far longer and far more dangerous.
Fiona and Adrianna keep her company, though as usual, they're not very colourful, or interesting. Perhaps in a while, it'd be time for Sophia to start thinking about finding a candidate for the Embrace. Not that she's ever consulted Marcus about it yet, or that it is anything more than a fleeting thought.
One night, when the group needs to progress slower due to the lightlessness of the new moon, this thankful monotony is abruptly broken. The hissing of an incoming arrow cuts into the night, followed by the painful shout of one of Sophia's escorts. Cries of battle echo in the night as the attackers assault the carriage and its guardians.
As much as Sophia can see from the outside world, somewhat blocked by her excited, flailing Fiona, it's a ragtag crew of desperate outcasts, hoping for a hard, but rich picking. Needless to say, there are scores of them, otherwise, they wouldn't risk attacking such a caravan. She cannot see what weapons they possess, but they're almost certainly only mortal. While most of them go for the mounted soldiers, at least two of them immediately bolt out towards the carriage, hungering for the richest prize. There is only one, fatal flaw in their plan.
They launched it at night...*
_________________

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*Sophia seems to relish the silence for those few fleeting moments, allowing the music instead to occupy her ears... but then, of course, Fiona begins speaking again.*

<That lasted all but a moment...>

-/Ita/ Yes dear, Magdeburg, did I stutter? I don’t believe so...

*She notices the eager, intrigued gaze of her servant but keeps the letter within its envelope that sits between her pale fingers. Sophia sighs, just for dramatic effect of course!*

-/Ita/ We shall speak more of it on the way, -now- we need to get sorted. Gather your thoughts swiftly and get everything ready. We are not to delay!

<My Goodness, there is no way this girl would have survived long by herself, I swear it.>

[Freiherr von Rosen]

*Fiona's eyes widen and she takes a step back when hearing what they are about to do. The otherwise-talkative girl - as much as a woman in her fourties can be a "girl", despite her looks - needs a good couple of seconds to catch her breath.
Blessed silence...*

-/Ita/ M-magdeburg? Oh my God! What are we doing there, Signora, who is it that invited you?

*It would seem that the "let there be no delay" part flew right past her ears. Meanwhile, the merriment and celebrations down there turn even louder, as if ridiculing the poor ghoul servant.*

-/Ita/ Herr Perfect did not even bother to tell me who his domitor is.

*While speaking, she also tries to catch a glimpse or two of the letter her mistress holds; though not overly insolently.*