Adam
Insolent Boy.
A child without,
either knowledge or wisdom.
How dare he offend me?

"There is a fine line between flattery and stooping down to lick my arse boy. But I doubt you will know the difference from your current position and limited view." The old knight's voice was firm, yet surprisingly fatherly. "I can see why now your Business retains barely over three quarters of the industry market. Your business acumen attempts to sell what is already mine to me, make no mistake O'Neal, while you have managed to build yourself an empire, it shall not last longer than the scant years countable against the inexorable downfall marked by the weakness I find in you. 

As such, I have not failed to remember your little escapade with the Count's Son, but it was hardly worth recalling as one wonders if you had failed to end him in the first place. Yes see, we would like to think that you have, done your best job and, were competent enough to ensure Alucard does not return until the council was ready to deal with his failures. In asking for the keys, well you suggest you were not at all competent. But never mind that, perhaps it did slip my mind in my old age that you were worthy to do the task. If you open the sepulcher and find him still capable, then you have brought upon more shame and dishonor upon yourself and your bloodline. If not, then your little quest is all but moot is it not? So think carefully O'Neal if you have something to prove, under the belt maybe? In the meantime, I would suggest dealing with the Old C-"

Well, speak of the devil. Metaphorically of course, Gabriel was about as much a devil as Bedivere was a sock-puppet. It was odd to see the old Coder on the Tele, which had been all but buzzing away in the background about the daily trades or whatever humans find important. But to call gather once again by the coward was strange, he had once mocked the council, but it too appears that a cornered rat will bite. There was certainly a bit what resembled a spine in him after, maybe even a notochord. Although it was all to convenient that he was here as well. Perhaps Merlin was right.

"Once you secure his key, then return to me, as I fear his call to council shall be met with, remorsefully only a handful of us elder left. Lady Natasha from what I have gathered has been missing from Transylvania. She had inquired yearly of returning Carfax abbey to the Draculian line, however she had yet to send me her formal request as of the last three years. I fear that she may have been hunted and her key lost..."

Of course there were no three keys. Only one, or rather two keys were a lie and the third a reality. Possession of the Key was indeed with Bedivere, as decided by the council to give the old knight the key as he held within his collection an item to ensure that no vampire could take the key without incurring death. A human would be required to fetch the key, as for slid right under the door to Camelot's chapel, any vampire setting foot within such the holy sanctum would be reduced to ash by the Grail. So was the keeper of the key named Bedivere. The lie however was the descion to announce the creation of not one but three keys though the last two were never finished. There was little need to inform Adam of this small lie however, he would figure it out on his own.

But who was this now who descend upon them like an owl in the night? With silent wings, stalking prey, while his sire in the background laid down his heavy rap? Armed with another man at his side, the grandson if such a term could befit someone like Gabriel. Someone from a decade ago, lost in the bath of blood and fratricide of those nightly escapades. Someone who he spared affiliation with for should they find Bedivere guilty of his massacures against the council and charge him with the grounds of treason. Someone who he distanced away from for the sake of keeping the boy in the darkest darkness in the coming tide. Someone who, had their own child to raise and baptize in the blood of the weak. Someone who he had unfortunately left alone to soar as Bedivere sank deeper into the font of treachery. 

"Well, I should have expected to see you here with the Old Coot running around. Brother Mithias. Fledgling Hank. It has been too long, far too long, dear boy. Come, sit for a natter if you would, and catch up on the state of affairs before this horrid tea gets cold? O'Neal here has a proposition for me, and I could use your council on such matters. And do come to Camelot every now and then, although you know you have to leave the kid behind Brother, he's not sworn in yet."