With a sharp inhale across sharp fangs, Mithias sat bolt upright in his chambers. It was perfectly dark, his sheets were soft and dry, and there wasn't a sound in the room other than his own calming breaths. The psychic radiation of so much sudden fear and pain had awakened him from his daylight slumber. So many humans were terrified, running for their lives in the streets above. It felt like a war, like in the world wars when an entire city came under siege. Mithias tried to focus. No, this was no nightmare. Something was happening outside right now, something that didn't make sense for a small town like Vance. He threw aside the sheets in a fluid motion and set to see it for himself. 

Just as he thought, the humans were under attack. The entire town was being assaulted by a youngblood vampire army that for some reason felt it would be more effective to strike under the damning light of the sun. Like himself, they would be weakened, slowed, and their senses dulled. "Foolish." Mithias commented to himself as he watched from a private drive on a hill. He was wearing a long black coat that hid his weapons yet allowed him movement. His hair was tied back and a Fedora shielded his yellow eyes. The scent of fresh blood was actually on the air, as was the odor of burning tires and spent gunpowder. The adrenaline and despair tainting that sanguine ichor of life made it all the darker an evil to drink and the more enticing for it. Mithias consciously rebelled against the thought of indulging. 

The vampire knew immediately that this was not his place. Any fool immortal who threw themselves into battle at every opportunity would wind up wasting the life they had been given. Elders knew better than to involve themselves in the meaningless skirmishes between humans and the lesser of their own kind, even if such battles seemed so grand and important. ... They were nothing. They didn't matter, and no lasting and wise immortal ever invested themselves in those who would easily wind up dead in such petty engagements. This largely included associations with humans.

Mithias had been warned. He knew how dangerous it was here in Vance at this particular moment, and every cell in his body told him to flee, dispense with these mere mortal lives, and live to fight another day. He should live, to return again after some reconnaissance and perhaps assist the Covenant in seeking their revenge. This, he could do, but he could not fight the Covenant's battles directly for them. First off, he was one of the enemy and not to be trusted, nor did he trust them. Secondly, it was god-damned daylight. 

But logic forever failed when it came to matters of the heart. For hundreds of years, Mithias had kept and watched his descendants as if they were his own children, and it just so happened that a few of them lived here in Vance, serving as low-ranking Covenant members. Their lives were at stake, and this pinched at the vampire's fatherly nerve. Mithias would move in, find out who had organized this ridiculous attack and protect the Covenant stronghold. 

Moments later, Mithias arrived near the scene of where Tristan, Valadimir, and Johnathan were. Having "dealt with" one or two of the vampire soldiers on his way in, Mithias had learned a few things, one being that Johnathan was his next most likely target. He recognized Vladimir and noted him facing off against some strange vampire who carried a sword. The two were still speaking, but neither were yielding any pertinent information. Mithais merely listened from behind a corner as he searched for the young blonde Johnathan. 

Vladimir and Mithias had never crossed paths. Mithias preferred to keep away from any powerful tool of the Covenant and always managed to escape before Vlad could track him down. The vampiric dog seemed quite useful. 

Somewhere in Vance, a young woman was trying to run home.