"Really? Is that the only greeting you'd offer me?" Bedivere seemed to be more than slightly disappointed. "A man travels nearly three and a half thousand miles across the pond and needlessly slaughters a bunch of henchmen to be hardly recognized? Or introduced..." The dark lord's wit still as biting as ever, far more so as he twirled his blade around, the swinging Caliburn, gyrating around his wrist as the darkness it produced ate away all the remaining lights within this room. And the darker the room was, the most powerful Bedivere would be, a threat to whoever annoys him to set off his rage over being attacked.

"If you don't know who I am already you lowborne-Mutt, then you are not important enough in the hierarchy to know." A rather off-putting remark, cutting at Vladimir who would have been hit with a projectile dead weight of body. Sure it was only what would have been a light toss given Bedivere's current power, but a sixty kilo body would still be a formidable mass at low speeds. Enough to at least ground you had you not realized it was coming. Quite possibly enough to knock the hybrid back and clear the way for Bedivere to conduct his business, nevermind the other two, nor Lucan who was far too overjoyed with being with his sire.

Today was going along swimmingly. If you were swimming in a pool of magma. It was surprising then as how to Bedivere could remain so seemingly calm despite having London attacked. Perhaps it was years of training, or stoicism. Or just the façade of barely restrained anger waiting to be unleashed on the poor city of New York. Or was his mind already thinking twelve steps ahead? Using this tide to his advantage to his benefit? What was a mere city to thirteen? An excuse to wage war has been brought to the table. A need to overthrow the established status quo, impetus for him to act and seize this opportunity. Thus what was there need for excessive rage? For in loss there is much to gain.

"London has also been attacked it seems. Will you not rally in its defense Mithias?" Taking off the white bespoke suit of his and tossing it over to Mithias. "Do clothe yourself though good chap, you are above the fashion of Lord Shane." Although given the nature of the suit itself, should it fit Mithias so comfortably as it did Bedivere? The elder after was a man of refined tastes and did have his attire customized to his measurements. Perhaps as jacket for some modesty, if Mithias can pull off the look. Not that Lucan cared, for to the poor redheaded boy, Mithias was a god to worship. Already obeying his master's voice, the beck and call to be at his master's side, a shadow a step behind him.

"Solider is not a place you'd want to visit Mithias, after all who do you think planted the incendiary device in your vehicle? Certainly not me, but my top agent, well former top agent, has uncovered a lovely cache of information on Solider's betrayal. Your new boytoy here has it uploaded into his magic box, as for me, I must retire back to the Isles soon and have no time for a proper natter. Visit if you wish, although I will have some dealings here in the Colonies to deal with Deon..." A rather long speech as the elder vampire began to walk towards the door after Mithias and friends, passing the younger knight along the way. Wherein the darkness could afford him speed, the vampire lord took his time here, savouring each moment.

And then they felt it. The call. The summons.
The whisper and beckon, just as how Mithias' voice lures Lucan.

"Oh. Well then. It appears we shall be gathered at Carfax soon enough. Just like old times hrm Brother?"

White turned to black, and upon feathered wings the warrior departed.
A new dawn would greet them, and with it a new war.
There into the night, the knight raven sung:

"A pint of beer to wash it down, 
And a jolly good fire to burn him. 
Holloa, boys, holloa, boys, make the bells ring,
Holloa, boys, holloa boys, God save the King!"