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Dr. Tranque Bourdeaux

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History of the Society of Leopold

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Our story begins humbly, you see, as many good stories do. The Society doth twist our words so you shant easily know who's who. In the earliest archive'd days there as a man named Leo-pold. He was more than one, he was many behind age and age. But each a new Leopold, each a new son, and each with a legacy to follow.

This story begins in 1902 with the birth a devilish man. One who picked the ice and earth for money and fortune in his mirth. Against him was the triumphant knight, a man red-cloaked and decisive. A trail of bodies did the devil leave from his hands and his fellows'. The All Seeing Eye approve'd of his antics for his lineage declar'd his allegiance. The Greatsword reacted in upheaval with the triumphant knight leading the charge, tho he decided being so highly held that he'd use a lower ranked lackey. That lackey, scaled naught in armor but scaled indeed, was under the Greatsword yet avoided the glint which may have show'd his true forked tongue. The lackey then lead the charge on the field to slay the devilish man, but what happened next is anyone's guess until they take an action. To continue the story, to even begin it, you must pay tribute to the Society in exertation.

Find the name below and the next portion of History shall surely become unearthed.

Dr. Tranque Bourdeaux

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May --, 1920
Department of Justice Main Building
Washington, D.C.

I.

It was a bit of a cloudy day and the wind was picking up. John sat at his desk in the smoke-hazed oaken office. He was in a rut. Clyde left his office after some idle chatter and a drink or two, as well as a bit of debriefing but John was still in a rut. He had two folders before him, one in a locked cabinet of his mahogany desk in a combination locked black leather accordion filer and the other just malingering on his desk. In a world where priorities in work and membership aligned, the folders would be in the reverse position but he snuffed out the stub of his cigar in the ashtray and flipped open the manilla folder stamped "Classified" on his desk and stared into the eyes of a killer.

His fingers found their way to the signet ring bearing the mark of the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and fiddled with it as his eyes scanned the page. Ten pages was added to Albert's folder and it seems he was becoming more and more of a problem as the years progressed. It was more dire because he was the newly promoted head of the General Intelligence Division and had word from some of his associates in the Temple of Solomon that he was going to be promoted next year to Deputy Director. The press began to go with the Mafia-fever and his higher ranking Fellow-Soldiers told him that though he held a high position as Justiciar of the Americas by the age of twenty-five, his hallowed blood could only get him so far and that he needed to show his ability to strike down Holy light on the head of the unjust. In this case, the unjust was Albert ---------, a member of the Mafia who was swiftly rising to power and a naturalized member of the "Ordine dei Righi d'Oro." A member of that greedy cult rising to power within the jurisdiction of the Justiciar of the Americas was not acceptable and cast the young, yet high ranking, member in a light that made him seem as if he had not earned his signet ring.

Still. He did not believe what he believed to be a petty criminal to be seriously making any waves in his entire jurisdiction, only in New York City which is small fish compared to the entirety of the New World that his hand quavered over. No, another day and he'll go away. And as John set the file back into a filing cabinet and called in Clyde for another round of debriefing, he pushed off the other folder that lay in double locked safekeeping, he pushed off the file containing a new layman of the Temple seeking to work under him. He pushed off a man named Leopold Virne -------- to hire another day.


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Find the next name below and the next portion of History shall surely become unearthed.


Dr. Tranque Bourdeaux

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March --, 1935
Mt. Olivet Cemetary
Washington, DC.

II.

The air was crisp and the sound of silence flooded the windy cemetery much to Leopold Verne Boardman's rejoice. The past week blurred by in mild but potent doses of chaos. One week and a half from his exciting twenty first birthday, his hardworking and well-grounded father, Leopold Virne Boardman, had a heart attack and passed away. The simple stone headstone before him was marked only with the initials L. V. B. and had one symbol with a pronounced L within a circle. The funeral bore many of his father coworkers within the Knight's Temple knackering about offering L. Verne money to provide his father with a more austere marble headstone and repeatedly he had to reject their gracious offers citing the will of his father which specified the stone down to the sandstone.

The clasped the long wool dark-green coat close to him as he eyed the tombstone silently but somewhat analytically. He hadn't had time to ponder about how he felt about the death since it happened because far too much went into the funeral arranging and ensuring that his father's final affairs went through smoothly, as well as the wild goose chase that was his attempt at informing his mother to whom he was estranged. The failed attempt melded with the all-encompassing silence now provided him that time to mull over what he felt. The first word to come to mind was unready and he thought it as he pulled an ivory and darkwood tobacco pipe with intricate carvings. This was used by his father, his before him, and his before him for generations and was in truth the only thing that made his lineage cemented to him. He remembered the discussions he would have with his father regarding the Society of Leopold and how each Leopold was the society, dead or alive. He felt confident that he could articulately pass on the Society which existed only in oral tradition from Leopold to Leopold. Why then did he feel hesitant to use the tobacco pipe?

As the passing idea of burying the pipe and lineage with his father passed through his mind, he realized why he hesitated to use the pipe. He mused to himself whether he truly felt confident in taking this role, with his father dead he had a choice yet when his father was alive it seemed inevitable. The role is not a simple one. To be a Leopold, you have to be willing to "devote your life to changing the game, to being the force behind the hand moving the chess pieces" in his father's words. At a young age, he was explained the intricacies behind the powers of the world and he was also taught that change for centuries had been a gradual affair. Sure some revolts and revolutions may happen overnight, but the work that goes into staging them takes years.. even generations. He covered the pipe in a velvet kerchief and tucked it into his coat pocket, wavering slightly as he thought.

He still had no choice, it seemed. If he did not continue to be that force, if he did not continue to remain a dragon in the mighty Temple then all of the work of his father and he before him would have gone to waste. The fulfillment that filled his father in his last days also could not be overlooked. With L. Verne's coming of age, his father seemed ever more excited and giddy in his own stoic way. He had always told his son stories of how the Society in the past effected change in South America, Europe, and even the Orient for a period. Each change was large, but spanned five or six Leopold's or Leopoldine's. Centuries of work for one change that could change history. His was not in the Deciding generation though, when the current Leopold would need to contact a representative of the Dragon for the next long-term assignment, but his was in the Toil generation, when the current Leopold needed to continue on the families assignment. His father never hid the fact that most Leopold's would never see their life's work done, but he professed perhaps idealistically that they all found fulfillment in the progress they made. L. Verne however, standing as he did by his father's grave, saw it as a dreary prospect at the current moment.

He realized the choice was not between whether to carry on the legacy or not, but between whether to carry on the legacy with effort and fervor or whether to wade through it as his descendant, Sister Leopoldine, lavished in the company of Baron Montesquieu, but in a large way did a poor job at shaping his political views. His father's cautionary tale about Sister Leopoldine ended with her dying drunk in her bathwater at an advanced age presumably because she distracted herself from her life's work. It contrasted sharply to the relatively fulfilled and happy man his father was before he passed away. L. Verne clasped his hands together and nodded to the grave knowingly and with a smile. He made a mental note to purchase a fine tobacco blend from the tobacconist and to pick up a good portion for Hoover, as a thoughtful and kind gesture from a loyal fellow Templar. He did feel as if a final declaration was in order in the silent, breezy, and rather grey cemetery.

"If this life was good enough for my father, it is good enough for me."

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Next name is specific. It is below, it is in the previous. Find it and continue the archive.
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Dr. Tranque Bourdeaux

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January --, 1951
Department of Justice Main Building
Washington, DC.

III.

The irony was not lost on John as he contemplated the peculiar situation he was in. He had over six hundred and fifty employees at his command, four hundred of which were Special Agents, he was the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and seemed to be at the top of his career and yet he got a demotion. No, it wasn't a demotion from the Government, but it was, what the Temple called, a "reorganization of assets." The Poor-Fellows Temple believed in a strong central government and he fully embraced that for his entire life, but it seems John Edgar Hoover was not that central government figure they wanted for the totality of the Americas. The "reorganizing" of the New World meant that it had been chopped up and now had three Justiciar's of the United States (West Coast, East Coast, Middle American), four Justiciar's of Canada (North, South, East, West), two Justiciar's of Latin America (North and South) and a Justiciar of Central America and the Caribbean.

His new title was to be the Justiciar of the East Coast, USA, and John was not very happy about this blatant demotion. He wasn't a pinhead though and he knew exactly why he was demoted. The mafia made a joke out of him at every turn, prostitution, alcohol, and gambling combined to fester in every urban center and the face that John regretted allowing to get out of control was the smug face of Albert Anastasia, the newest leader of the Gambino Crime Family and the leader of the local Ordine dei Righi d'Oro. If he were one of these New Blood Temple Laymen then he might get the idea to do the job himself, use his FBI resources to knock Anastasia out of business for good, but John was a little wiser than that. The Temple wants justice, but it's pure politics. If someone get's their hands dirty they are a tool, if someone directs someone to get their hands dirty they are respected. Mixing the public life and private life is also very unwise and rash.

Another folder sat on his now slightly older oaken desk and another problem festered. The layman L. Virne Boardman that he had decided to reject from his jurisdiction decades ago had made a great success in London and the Justiciar of the United Kingdom (who had not been "reorganized") was so enamored with his work that he saw fit that upon his death he be buried wherever his son chooses at his cost. It was pure mockery that not only was he buried in Mount Olivet Cemetery back fifteen years ago but that his son L. Verne Boardman was recommended to John after the "reorganization." He lit a cigar and looked at the two folders. These two political hot potatoes cost him valuable respect in the grand game of the grand Temple and it was about time that he start earning back his respect. A smile played on his lips as he took the contents of L. Verne Boardman's folder and combined it with the copy of the FBI report on Albert Anastasia. Two birds, one stone.

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January --, 1951
<Location Redacted>
Washington, DC.

VI.

Leopold Verne Boardman was unequivocally giddy about his life, to the point where he lit his tobacco pipe at least three times after forgetting that he had already lit it the prior few times. He felt as if he were atop the world, not only did he manage in the past sixteen years to secure a notable education in Law but managed to ingratiate himself with the Justiciar of Great Britain who was a decidedly stern man with few passions. Once L. Verne found that his true passion was a game of chess, it was only a weekly challenge over tea that was required from him to ascend from strange new-blooded immigrant layman to his favorite potentate of the upper-caliber youth. This combined with his meeting and eventual marriage with the daughter of a relatively renowned German artist managed to elate him to a high degree, but what truly set him on tooth's edge was the fact that his son was born three days ago and so was his first assignment from John Edgar Hoover. Something caused him to be nervous before he married his wife, something very notable. That little something was the fact that he was very close to finishing the Toil and may even become the Deciding Leopold in his very lifetime!

This was an extremely honorable prospect given the mission of his bloodline, but it was not one without costs. He could not make his child and wife known to the Templars if they are to vanish as many Leopolds and Leopoldines had done from societies that stretch the globe. A clean break would be necessary and it would require first securing the future, then tying up lose ends, and then (and only then) escaping to Capitol City in Korea to await further instruction. He could not help but be grateful that his life was not spent in Toil and he was also insurmountable grateful that his ancestors Toiled so that he could be the one to possibly finish this mission. It wasn't a trivial mission either, it was regulating two major powers of the United Status, the Temple and the Order, in one fell swoop. He couldn't help but be happy though, despite his attempts at his father's stoic seriousness when it came to the Leopoldan lifestyle, he was effectively a double agent for the Grand Balance, as his father called the nearly imperceptable organization known only as the Dragon, and he would see his ancestor's work done within his lifetime.

His only wish past completing the mission would be to protect his son and wife at all costs from his position. His wife could never know and his son would be slowly taught his role, but he refused to have him easily traceable and so when his wife moved to Washington, he bought an apartment in her maiden name. He explained it away by informing her that he does legal work for the FBI and given his public connections to the Justiciar of Great Britain (or as she knew him the head of the Joint Intelligence Committee) it did not seem all too unfeasible. However, she gave him a sour look when he insisted his last name not be his own, nor her maiden name. It was custom for centuries to change the middle name by generation and last name by Toil/Deciding cycle but in acquiescence to his wife's pleas for the young Leopold to retain something of L. Verne's he seceded his middle name for his son, Leopold Verne Brunnel.

Their safety and the life's work of generations of Leopolds relied now on his performance and to an extent chance. Chance seemed to be exhausted by now as the last strike of luck was that Hoover accepted L. Verne Boardman into his jurisdiction and assigned him to handle "Albert Anastasia" in a "just and honorable way that exhausts him and his order from the domain of the East Coast of the United States of America." Until then, he'd be another legal secretary on the payroll of the FBI and on paper, a single bachelor with nothing but a legacy of having a hardworking father and an immigrant family history. It was time to begin his Toil, the final Toil generations had worked to align.

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Next name, one word, slightly more difficult. Don't look above, just below.



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Dr. Tranque Bourdeaux

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December --, 1957
<Location redacted>
Washington, DC.

V.

Hereafter are the proceedings of the meeting of December -- of 1957 transcribed by Council Scribe Galena Visconti. The following document is titled "East Coast Mediation #32" and by the authority of the Council of Venice is a factual account of the proceedings.

Participants are the following individuals: Henry Griswald (V), titled Mediator by his superiors at the Council of Venice; Herbert H. Hoover (T), titled "Justiciar of the East Coast, United States." by his superiors in the Templars; Anthony Anastasia (I), titled "Titolare di una foglia d'oro" by the Ordine dei Righi d'Oro and it's parentage, the Illuminati; James Riddle Hoffa, unaffiliated participant brought in by Mr. Hoover for testimony.

The transcript begins.

Quote:

M = Henry Griswald, Mediator

HH = Mr. Hoover

AA = Mr. Anastasia

JH = James Hoffa

--

M: We will begin the proceedings of this reconciliation meeting with a statement of recent events. Mr. Albert Anastasia was recently assassinated while getting his hair cut but men that are believed to be related to the parties, Herbert Hoover and James Hoffa. The Council of Venice has decided to mediate this conflict because the persons involved are highly known individuals and such open warfare risks the entirety of all secret societies. First, I ask that everyone put all of your cards on the table.

*pause*

M: Mr. Hoover, you can start.

HH: My job as Justiciar is to ensure that order is kept in my jurisdiction. My job as Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation also requires me to ensure that order is kept in my jurisdiction. Therefore I was taske-

AA: With murdering my father.

M: Please, Mr. Anastasia. Do not interrupt official proceedings.

AA: Apologies.

HH: Therefore I was tasked to the Anastasia case. I was not, however, tasked to make a spectacle of it. I was tasked with dispensing justice in a fair and honorable way. I delegated the task to a recent up-and-coming individual in our ranks and he handled it less than honorably.

M: His name, for the record.

HH: Leopold Verne Boardman.

M: Why is he not present?

HH: I believe he is in hiding.

M: Understood. Now how did he handle it "less than honourably."

HH: First of all, he involved a relative outsider. Mr. Hoffa here is someone who is a third party who has worked mostly with the Illuminati and the Phoenicians but on very cursory bases. The Templar frown upon such involvement as it shows weakness, no offense to Mr. Hoffa. In addition, the murder was messy and did not allow Mr. Anastasia to properly prepare or fight back.

M: Mr. Hoffa, what was your involvement in this plot?

JH: I didn't particularly like Al and I had access to the third party resources to off him. When Boardman came to me saying that he'd dole out some cash if Al met an unfortunate end, I took advantage of the opportunity.

M: Was Mr. Boardman aware of the nature of the murder you arranged?

JH: Oh yeah, he was heavy into the planning.

M: Did he show any concern for the civilians that would be present at the time of the murder?

JH: We didn't bring it up.

M: That does not answer the question.

JH: No. I guess not. One track mind.

M: As I understand, Anthony Anastasia here has been fully briefed on his fathers death. Sources claim that you have put a "hit" out on Mr. Boardman and Mr. Hoffa. Do you affirm or deny the hearsay?

AA: I affirm.

M: Am I correct in verifying that this is due to the murder?

AA: You are correct.

M: The Council of Venice requests that hostilities end and casualties are kept to a minimum. In order to drop both hits, what terms would you require of Mr. Hoover.

AA: I am not dropping anything.

HH: Point of Process *gestures to M*

M: You may speak.

HH: I've a proposition, but you won't agree to it until you hear the full of it. You see, I understand this is a matter of honor for you-- that's something the Templar hold dearly, our honor, so I sympathize with your feelings. Do not let your feelings drive you illogical. You know I will post so many guards to both of the targets that it would make your head swim.

AA: Then there will be a lot of dead guards.

M: Cut it out. Herbert, be productive.

*pause*

HH: Alright. My proposal is that because my delegate performed a messy and unjust murder on your father, you be allowed to continue to pursue your hit against him without Templar interference.

AA: And what about Hoffa?

HH: Hoffa gets a grace period.

JH: Bullshit, I'm not to blame here! I'm just the supplier. I connect people, that's all!

M: Order!

*HH whispers to JH*

HH: We ask Mr. Anastasia for a 20 year grace period on pursuing the hit against Mr. Hoffa. If you feel differently after 20 years, maybe you'll call it off.

AA: Not likely.

*pause*

AA: But you'll give me Boardman?

HH: I won't interfere.

AA: 18 years, maximum, for Hoffa. Enough time to have a kid and watch him grow.

*pause*

M: The terms are currently as follows. The hit may continue against Leopold Verne Boardman with no Templar interference. James Riddle Hoffa receives an 18 year grace period. The Council of Venice amends the terms to add that all assassinations conducted must be covert and in such a way that would not implicate anyone in a society for murder, civilians may not be harmed in the process, and hostilities end between your respective branches of "Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ" and "Ordine dei Righi d'Oro."

HH: I agree to the terms.

AA: I agree to the terms.
Transcript ends.

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