The Invictus - A History
"Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unattainable. However, they who aim at it, and persevere, will come much nearer to it than those whose laziness and despondency make them give it up as unattainable." — Lord Chesterfield
The Invictus is the oldest covenant, dating back to ancient Rome and the nights of the Camarilla. The covenant has persisted since those first nights, its longevity and power demonstrating the fundamental truth of its precepts. It has seen other covenants come and go, and will do so again. The Invictus is unconquered and invincible.
That is the official attitude of Invictus history, and many members of the covenant see no profit in investigating in more detail. Even some vampires outside the covenant accept the basic accounts of The Invictus’ history, although many see stagnation where The Invictus sees strong tradition. Yet for all the shadows of Torpor and the failings of Kindred memory, there are elders who remember traces of detail and believe that such things matter as much to the success of the covenant as its modern nights. Likewise, the formalities of The Invictus generate many written records — some trustworthy and some suspect — and many Kindred of the First Estate choose to busy themselves with historical Research.
All this gives The Invictus of many domains access to centuries of information, but it does not always bring the truth. A detailed history does not overturn the fundamental points of public Perception. The record that remembers a true history is often overlooked in favor of the record that describes a preferred history.
The Invictus is ancient and deeply conservative. Its customs and traditions have survived two thousand years of daylight and fire, dissention and insurgence. Its name is known and feared by some of the world’s most terrible monsters, from the cold glass of the Atlantic domains to the hot lights of the Pacific Rim. Though The Invictus is often misunderstood and sometimes despised, it cannot be ignored or denied. Even external historians concede that The Invictus must be doing something right.
The oldest demonstrably genuine Kindred document mentioning The Invictus is a grant of hunting rights to House Marinus — rights that the House still holds and defends whenever challenged. The grant is thought to have been made in AD 84, when the Camarilla still held sway in Rome, and the document has been produced for inspection by Invictus vampires in the court of Milan at least once per century since. The Kindred of the Marinus line claim that The Invictus of the time were a ruling class of the Camarilla, the unconquered Kindred who had risen to the top of the organization. Commonly, covenant authorities officially endorse this view.
Unofficially, many historians in and out of The Invictus doubt that claim. The reference to The Invictus in the grant sounds more like a faction than a name for the rulers of the world’s Kindred, and there is precious little supporting evidence outside of the fog of Kindred memory. Indeed, though there are other surviving documents from the period, there are no known earlier references to the name. The memories of other elders suggest The Invictus were simply a group of Kindred seeking power within the Camarilla, much like the factions of The Invictus tonight, albeit a group that was ultimately to see great success.
The question that all Kindred historians, both in and out of the covenant of Society, must ask is, how reliable is the evidence? For many vampires, the idea that evidence may be fabricated, intentionally misrepresented or erroneously interpreted is quick to conjure and hard to dispel. Can the evidence be trusted any more than the memories of the elders?
In the minds of the most conspiratorial of the Damned, the question continues to tie itself into knots the more it is handled. When dealing with the patience and the guile of The Invictus, even unbelievable schemes become fearsome — become terribly believable. Could The Invictus have manufactured evidence in the form of texts, tablets, legend and folklore all those centuries ago for the very purpose of corroborating the stories they and their childer would tell in a thousand years? Is it possible that the eldest of Society had the clever minds to plan so far ahead and the willpower to pull it off? How much of the history that has been passed down by the First Estate is propaganda? How much has been slowly, painstakingly skewed over a thousand years for the purpose of creating the very world all the Kindred beneath The Invictus now dance and die in? How much of the intelligence passed down by — or dug up with — the ancient Invictus is an outright lie? How can anyone prove it?
As some scholastic-minded vampires have supposed over the centuries, The Invictus have the Fog of Eternity in their favor in such a scheme. Not only would the Fog of Eternity cloud the memories of Society’s enemies and erode the facts that rivals and skeptics could use to disprove The Invictus accounts of history, but the Fog would aid the fablers among the First Estate in the maintenance of their thousand-year lie.
Imagine an Invictus Prince commissioning his own histories of the nights he rules — all life-like fictions, all very nearly the truth — from the hands of loyal scriveners. A dozen such texts are scattered, hidden and inherited throughout the centuries. The texts age, become rare and are gradually forgotten. Then, a millennium later, vampires of every covenant awaken one by one across the globe. In time, by plan or by fortune, those ancient books are found. The books help the groggy elders fill in the blanks in their minds, and the elders support some — maybe most — of the history contained in those books, which are now priceless artifacts. Without knowing it, a handful of unwitting Kindred have become accomplices in an ancient lie, bearing false witness against history.
If even the scheming vampire who hatches this plan doesn’t recall the truth — doesn’t know what exactly he’s done — how can anyone sniff out his lie? If he believes his own deception, how can anyone know him for the pretender he is? If the world believes his lie, is it truly a lie at all anymore?
The Invictus tell many stories of this period, and only a few representative ones can be recounted here. Modern Kindred, particularly among the Carthians and The Ordo Dracul, have noted that some tales of The Invictus do not fit with histories recognized by kine scholars. To the Carthians, this is clear evidence that the history of The Invictus is little more than a bunch of self-serving myths, a tradition of oral propaganda. To The Invictus, it shows the advantages of having eyewitnesses to events over a thousand years ago still available for consultation. Over time, however, the kine do change their opinions about history, often quite radically, and so debates of historical continuity are unlikely to be resolved soon.
Some vampires, Invictus and not, believe tales such as the following were always intended as parables of political and social power, rather than accounts of genuine history. The facts of these stories may be open to interpretation — they may even be disproved outright — but the boundaries of their truth extend beyond the realms of fact.
In the midst of this anarchy, Quintus of Alexandria, an Invictus ancilla, set out to bring peace. A great Advocate and Speaker, he warned powerful vampires of the risks to their own holdings if the struggle was allowed to continue, and pointed out to the weak that they were disproportionately the ones being sacrificed. He encouraged the formation of alliances and negotiated settlements between warring houses. Wearing the pure white cloth of a candidate for office, Quintus brought enemies together in front of the churches of the city and brokered settlements witnessed by “the stars above our heads, the sands beneath our feet, the sea in our ears and the God at our backs.”
Moved by the terms of his oath, members of The Lancea Sanctum came to see his mission as divinely backed, and local Kindred of that covenant slowly fell into place behind him. The Invictus, of course, had always worked for order within the city. One night in December, the Kindred of the city gathered in the Church of the Blessed Virgin, and selected a Bishop of The Lancea Sanctum as their Prince. Quintus pronounced himself satisfied with the restoration of peace, and swore loyalty to the Prince like all the rest.
But, as might have been expected, a Prince with such strong loyalties to a single creed could not rule peacefully over a diverse city. Disputes began to Flare, and the Kindred noticed that the Prince always resolved them in favor of The Lancea Sanctum. The Kindred of other covenants became discontented with this, and soon took their disputes to Quintus instead. They reminded the other parties of Quintus’ long strivings for peace and his failure to seize power as a result, arguing that he was clearly a neutral broker.
Within a year, the Prince declared that Quintus was not permitted to resolve disputes and was banished from the city. Quintus responded by launching a bid for praxis, a bid supported by many non-Sanctified Kindred and some of the Prince’s own covenant mates. Within two nights, the former Prince had fled, leaving Quintus in undisputed command of the city. The Inner Circle awarded him the title of Marquis of Alexandria in recognition of his great actions.
Note: Stories of similar form are told about several other cities within the former Roman Empire, but Quintus of Alexandria is the most famous. The Marquis of Alexandria survives to present nights, although he is no longer a Prince. Instead, he serves as an adviser to Princes, of whatever covenant, and most knowledgeable Kindred believe that as long as he does so Alexandria shall remain an Invictus city.
By such an omen, the success of the enterprise was assured, but it was not yet attained. Ireland had no cities and few resident Kindred of its own. Some of these vampires, unlike any in the rest of Europe, were said to take the form of serpents when they rested by day, and in that form basked in the sun. They held that this made them superior to the vampires of the rest of the world, and refused to negotiate in any way with the invader, Palladius. Instead, they swore they would destroy him and all his brood, wiping out the foreigners who dared to stain their island. Regretfully, Palladius prepared for war.
Palladius needed cities for his bases of action, and so his first act was to travel the length and breadth of the island, encouraging the people to gather into larger settlements. These settlements, for the most part, formed around abbeys, and Palladius brought in Allies from The Lancea Sanctum to help The Invictus administer the land. The relationship was clearly spelled out from the beginning, as The Invictus ruled and the Sanctified provided advice, and the two covenants worked harmoniously together.
Palladius himself sired many childer, the better to spread his influence, and his battles with the undead serpents became the stuff of legends. Finally, the last remnants of the serpents made a stand on the Atlantic coast, their backs to a cliff overlooking the ocean. Palladius stood alone, his childer and Allies spread out as sentries to make sure that none of the serpents could flee. Calling on all the powers of his blood, Palladius rent the serpents limb from limb, and their magic was ineffective against him. He hurled the bodies into the ocean, and left the heads on the cliff to face the sunlight, for they would not be able to take refuge as serpents now.
With his final victory, Palladius was granted the title Duke of Ireland, and took his place as Prince of the whole country.
Note: Several stories of Invictus Kindred creating new realms to rule emerge from this period, but the conquest of the whole of Ireland is by far the most spectacular. There are two surviving Kindred who claim to be Palladius of Ireland. Both are allowed the title Duke of Ireland within their respective cities, and each one issues thunderous denunciations of the other and offers a reward for proof of his Final Death. Some Kindred believe that the two were originally part of a cyclical dynasty and that it was the dynasty that conquered Ireland. Others point out the plain parallels to the legend of St. Patrick, and believe that the legend of Palladius is wholly fabricated.
Valea was residing within Constantinople, in the rich, palatial havens of ambassadors, diplomats, merchants and advisors to Heraclius himself. In life, she was apparently a homeless waif, begging for bread and stealing wine. In death, she drifted among the wealthy and the powerful as an odalisque, drawing tales of intrigue out of her lovers as she had once drawn money from passersby and stealing blood like she once stole wine. Valea was already smarter and more insidious than most of her prey, but, after years of lounging in expensive private libraries and attending lavish performances, she was more educated than her paramours as well. Decades of clandestine sex and spying with the renowned men of Byzantium yielded her a collection of information and insight into the city that no one mortal man could ever have been able to accumulate in a lifetime.
In the middle of the 7th century, the Byzantine Emperor Constans II divided Constantinople into a series of military-controlled sections, called themes. At the time, Constantinople was a swelling city — soon to be the largest is Christendom — and this growing population of urbanizing farmers and craftspeople was taking its toll on the Kindred of the city. The Invictus Prince of Constantinople was facing a rush of new vampires bred by passionate neonates who felt the city could finally support new Kindred made by their hand. With the formation of the Emperor’s new themes, The Invictus were also finding that they had little familiarity and even less influence with the revised municipal order. While Constantinople was solidifying into a crowning city of the world — able to repel numerous Arab assaults and internal crises of iconoclasm and religion — the nighttime city of the Damned was in turmoil. The Prince feared that, without a new structure for the Kindred of Byzantium to dwell within, the Masquerade was at risk. Valea — who was nothing at court and had never met the Prince — heard tell of this and agreed with him.
She also had a plan. She knew several of the Emperor’s advisors and attachés very well — much better than they knew her — so she had information about the philosophy behind the themes and the social mechanisms that made them work. She advised the Prince on ways to organize the domains within Constantinople to keep them from creating friction with the municipal order of the kine. “How do you know so much, girl?” the Prince asked her. “I listened,” she said.
Through the end of the reign of Constans II, through the reign of Leo II in the 8th century, Valea and the Prince restructured the territories and politics of The Invictus in Constantinople. Using the Prince’s experience and Valea’s insight, they refined systems of action and responsibility that reduced the maneuvering room within the covenant for conspirators to plot against the Prince, as had been common since the Damned population swell a hundred years before. The Prince and Valea developed a series of operational social units within the domain — populations defined by their duties rather than their territory — that had to answer directly to the Prince himself. Therefore, conspiracies might swell within the individual competing units, called tagmata (regiments), but they could not reach the Prince without first going through one of his lieutenants who oversaw the tagmata. That lieutenant — who had to report directly, and alone, to the Prince — would be unlikely to face his lord during a formative coup without revealing himself to the Prince’s formidable mind.
After the mortal Emperor Constantine V returned to Constantinople following his own betrayal and subsequent military vengeance, he also called for municipal reform. He sought a system to replace the city’s themes and protect himself from further intrigues and would-be usurpers. Much to the Prince’s surprise, the system that Constantine’s advisors eventually brought before their Emperor employed a collection of tagmata, each of which reported directly to Constantine — and several of whom were sharing beds with Valea or her childer. “How you did manage that, girl?” the Prince asked her. “I spoke,” she said. “And they listened.”
Note: Valea’s name is known in domains from Turkey to the United States, but typically without much historical detail. Among modern Invictus, she is known by name only, like a mortal might know Joan of Arc without really knowing anything about her history or the period in which she gained her Fame. The broad strokes of Valea’s story — a concubine feeding from powerful mortals shapes the society of the Damned with the secrets she gleans — are common to a variety of rumors and urban legends among Society Kindred, as they are common among the kine. For a time, Valea’s name was used (sometimes as the masculine Valeo) by numerous Invictus spies in European domains, inspired into action by tales of Mata Hari. Tonight, Valea’s name has become a kind of crass Invictus slang for any undead seductress, from beguiling spies to treacherous whores.
For a few decades around the turn of the 12th century, it seemed that The Invictus would destroy themselves in internecine conflict. An Invictus Seer, Aelfgifu, had a series of visions of where this would lead, visions of European cities drenched in the blood of a hundred, tiny nocturnal wars, where monsters even darker than vampires came from the wilderness to wipe out the remaining Kindred and feast on the kine. Stirred by her vision, she began traveling in Europe, calling on The Invictus to cease their fighting and unify. Quickly, her call took the concrete form of a call for a great council of the elders of The Invictus, at which all disputes would be resolved and The Invictus formed into a single force to lead the Kindred and defend against the even greater threat of the monsters of the wilderness.
The First Council met within a few years of 1142, by modern reckonings. Most accounts hold that it was held in the catacombs under Rome, in the old center of the Empire, surrounded by the bones of the Imperial dead. Aelfgifu stood before the assembled elders, and told them once more of her vision and of the only chance she saw for avoiding such a fate. Then she stepped back, to allow the debate to begin. The beginning was easy. The assembled elders quickly agreed that The Invictus should be unified, bringing all of the Kindred of Europe and, later, the world, under a single set of rulers. The inevitable following question was that of who should lead The Invictus, and here the expected deadlock set in. Each of the elders, ruler of a city, believed that he should lead the whole covenant, and no one was willing to give ground. Throughout the debate, Aelfgifu remained silent, seated on a simple chair in front of shelves filled with the delicate corpses of the ancient dead. For most of the debate, her eyes remained on the floor.
The Princes of Paris and Cologne strode into the center of the hall, intent on fighting to determine precedence, and Aelfgifu briefly raised her eyes. Abashed, the two elders returned to their seats, declaring that they would not sully this honorable location with violence. The Princes of Greece made to leave, declaring that the Council was a sham, and Aelfgifu looked briefly at each of them in turn. Each returned to his seat, muttering that despite the best efforts of others, he would ensure that the debate met with success. The Prince of Rome itself declared that, as the Council was held in his city, he would . . . . At which point he realized that Aelfgifu was looking at him, and concluded his sentence by saying that he would guarantee the Council’s safety for as long as it took to reach a decision.
After many nights of debate, a decision was reached. Each of the assembled elders was declared an Elector, and the Electors would choose an Emperor for The Invictus from among their number. The Emperor would be the first among the elders of the covenant, with the authority to settle disputes between them but without the authority to intervene in issues within the realm of a single elder. The Emperor would also be responsible for the strategy by which all the Kindred of the world were to be brought under the control of The Invictus.
The votes were made to Aelfgifu, who was herself neither Elector nor candidate, and the successful claimant announced. He was anointed with blood, robed in Imperial purple and presented to the Electors, who As One swore fealty on his behalf and on behalf of their followers.
After electing the Emperor, the Council continued under his guidance. The titles held within The Invictus, and the criteria on which they should be awarded, were standardized. Titles awarded during the Heroic Age were regularized, and the systems of the covenant in different domains brought into line with one another. The debates occasionally became slightly heated, but, in general, the assembled elders were content that the title of Elector out-ranked all but that of Emperor, and so were happy see their underlings nominally demoted as the price of covenant unity.
The First Council dispersed a success and conflicts within the covenant halted, as elders enforced the law in their own domains and referred inter-domain disputes to the Emperor. The Invictus began their push to bring the rest of the Kindred under their sway, and for a time they seemed destined for success.
The Invictus of Rome sometimes show rare, celebrated visitors the chamber where the Council was purportedly held, but the room is rather different from the one depicted in either the Rome or Lake Codices, described below. Specifically, it is at the top of a well and largely undecorated.
The Book of the Council may survive. In fact, there are many surviving candidates, each claiming to be the real thing. Some are obvious late forgeries, written on paper manufactured in the 16th, 17th or even 18th centuries. A couple of printed editions have even circulated. These late forgeries include the name of the elected Emperor and were usually traced back to their authors by working out whose agenda was supported.
A handful of the surviving books are not obvious fakes. There are three well-known volumes (the Rome Codex, the Lake Codex and the Reilmeyer Codex), which have been securely dated to the 12th century, both in terms of writing style and the age of the Materials. The Rome Codex and the Lake Codex are extremely similar, although both give slightly different accounts of the proceedings. The vampires who were present disagree on the same sorts of details as the two texts, so they cannot decide which is genuine. In both books, the name and portrait of the Emperor have been cut out wherever they occurred. Some of the text that was written on the back side of these cut portraits was written on slips stained into the books’ last pages as haphazard replacements. The craftsmanship of these replacements is different from that of the bodies of the main texts but is the same in both volumes’ replacement slips. The calligraphy of these replacements is also 12th century in style, and the slips of parchment are of the same age. The evidence thus suggests that the Emperor was removed from the record while he was still in power.
The differences between the Lake and Rome Codices are mostly minor, with one exception. According to the Rome Codex, the Kindred of The Invictus unified to conquer all other Kindred. According to the Lake Codex, the Kindred of The Invictus unified to defend all Kindred from the monsters warned of in Aelfgifu’s visions. Successful modern authorities in most Invictus domains tend to support the Language of the Lake Codex.
The Reilmeyer Codex is even more different. Its account of the First Council simply fails to mention the election of the Emperor at all, although the Codex does cover the decision to give the members of the council that power and the title of Elector, and the Codex provides much more detail of Aelfgifu’s visions. Indeed, it is largely an account of those visions. The book was almost certainly written some time in the 12th century, but its highly accurate account of the Third Crusade, as seen from a Kindred perspective, has led many Kindred to believe that the Codex is, in fact, a very early forgery, written to bolster a particular political agenda. It is less clear what that agenda was, and the prophecies in the book continue for centuries. The prophecies up to the early 21st century deal entirely with fairly minor events, and are not specific about places. There are some Kindred who devote their Requiems to tracking down the events mentioned in the Reilmeyer Codex. As the next set of larger prophecies, which do not bode well, approach their supposed time of fulfillment, the number of Kindred trying to work out the book’s trustworthiness continues to increase.
And that was where the problems started. Individual Kindred did not want titles that were recognized in one city; they wanted to be recognized, and deferred to, everywhere. The number of disputes appealed to the Emperor steadily rose, as the Notary of one city tried to prove his superiority to the Notary of another. Invictus Princes who weren’t Electors petitioned for the title; Electors who weren’t Princes petitioned to have the “upstart” removed.
Things were finally brought to a head, however, by a Guild War. The Guild of Speakers in Florence, led by Meister Ottobuono, declared that the Guild of Speakers in Pisa, led by Meister Beatrice, were a group of frauds, unworthy to teach, and that the Florentine Guild should have control over teaching in the other city as well. Meister Beatrice responded that Meister Ottobuono was addled by age and Megalomania, and should be stripped of the title of Meister as he was a disgrace to his rank.
The dispute was appealed to the Emperor, and the two Meisters began gathering Allies. It is now, centuries after the assassination of both principals, agreed that Meister Ottobuono and Meister Beatrice were the two greatest Speakers in the history of the covenant. Each traveled to other cities, speaking persuasively of their struggle, and linking it to the political issues that exercised the Kindred of that place. In Cologne, Meister Ottobuono convinced a leadership under pressure from the Sanctified that a victory for the Pisans would result in The Invictus submitting to The Lancea Sanctum in all things. In Paris, Meister Beatrice convinced an Elector-Prince on the verge of Torpor that the Florentines were seeking to bring his city under their personal control, so that he would awaken in centuries with no power, no Allies and no hope.
Within a few years there was no one in The Invictus who was not either a Florentine or a Pisan. The dispute between the guilds had receded to minor importance, being nothing more than an occasion for differences that had, frequently, been manufactured by the two Meisters. When the case finally came before the Emperor, he was faced with an impossible decision, as ruling in any way would provoke civil war between Invictus domains.
The complex also included hundreds of rooms, providing accommodation for the Emperor’s staff, his Herd and the retinues of visiting elders. Neonates and ancillae were not granted access to the court itself, and even most elders needed an invitation before they could enter. Exceptions were made for the Electors, who had the right of access to the Emperor at any time.
The location of the Imperial Court was a well-kept secret, with the Emperor sending guides skilled in misdirection to bring most elders before him. The Electors all knew how to get there, but no two knew the same route. The portals to the complex were disguised, and some people suggest that the disguises were not wholly mundane.
The Imperial Court is now lost. The surviving Electors do not remember how to get there, and all attempts to piece together a route have failed. It is almost as if the place never existed.
The same sunset, Meister Beatrice was found dead, her torso burned to ash, while her head and limbs, and the bed on which she was lying, remained entirely unharmed. Again, the guards, under Vinculum to Beatrice, claimed to have seen nothing, and were executed for betraying their mistress.
As shock and fear raced though the Imperial Court, the Emperor summoned all the Electors to a Council. They came, and that is a mystery. The Invictus were on the verge of war, an unstoppable assassin was at work at the Court — and yet the most powerful elders came from all over Europe, and some from beyond.
The Final Council’s decisions were simple. The Council accepted the abdication of the Emperor and dissolved the title. All Electors renounced those titles and renounced any idea of a central government for The Invictus. Instead, the Electors would return to running city fiefs as individual realms, so that a Guild recognized in one city had no claim vis-à-vis a Guild recognized in another.
The First Council’s decisions on regularizing titles and etiquette were retained, however, as all recognized that it was valuable for The Invictus to remain recognizably a single covenant and for those few Kindred who did move between cities to be able to integrate as quickly as possible into The Invictus of their new home. As the Final Council closed, the Imperial Court itself was closed, never to be used again.
Some Kindred claim that the whole story is merely a parable, warning of the dangers of both excessive competition and excessive unity within The Invictus, and thus serving to prop up the regimes of contemporary Princes. This has a certain plausibility. Whatever the Emperor once was, tonight he is a symbol of the terrible risk that comes with an elected ruler.
And yet . . . . A few very old Kindred remember The Invictus Emperor. No one remembers who the Emperor was, but even members of other covenants also remember him existing, although they had little to do with him. Small references to the Florentine/Pisan division in the last years of the Emperor abound in contemporary documents. There are Invictus elders who believe they remember being Electors and being present at both Councils, and their memories agree as much as can be expected after so much time and so many torpors.
Some Invictus Kindred believe that the Imperial Years did happen, but that much more than the identity of the Emperor was erased from the historical record. Some Kindred worry about the power that is strong enough to rewrite not only history but the recollections of those who made that history.
Most modern Society vampires don’t buy into the fairy tale, though, and they’ve found plenty of historical evidence to discount the tale. The most popular of the modern interpretations is that the Emperor Myth is, in truth, a tale of the end of the Camarilla, redressed in medieval costumes for a medieval audience, much as all biblical and many classical tales of the time were recast. The very presence of “Electors” in the legend even suggests that electoral systems are historically proven to be flawed — some Kindred in and out of Society believe such references may have been added to influence a population gradually hearing ancient tales of democratic Greece and getting ideas.
What is true and what is false in the Emperor Myth may be impossible for contemporary Kindred to know. Even the eldest among The Invictus have been rumored to say, “The facts of the story mean nothing anymore. It’s too late for blame. The truth of it does not tarnish, and that is all we need know.” In the modern night, what really matters to the covenant is that the story is a point of reference for many Kindred of Quality. All The Invictus should beware the fate of the Emperor, who was both conquered and ignored.
Invictus expeditions to establish new domains in the new worlds — African, Asian and American — were backed up with significant Resources, and helped greatly to consolidate Invictus power in the Old World. In those cities where there were disputes within The Invictus or elders with power that matched and even threatened the Prince, the members of one side would be sent by the other to follow the kine and establish a new colony.
This could be seen as exile and, of course, it was. However, many Invictus Princes took care to supply those who were being exiled with a great deal of assistance and large amounts of Resources, to give them as high a chance of success as possible. Where rivalry was political rather than personal, the exiles accepted this as a good deal. Rather than fight against entrenched leaders at home, they could go, with Resources from their rivals, to establish new power bases in new places, where they would at least have the advantage of being an unknown quantity.
A few of these arrangements became famous. One popular Society account that may even be true is the tale of the Prince of Boston, in England, who faced a cyclical dynasty as a rival, a dynasty that had previously ruled the city. House Carder had lost power during the Black Death, when Margery Shepherd had claimed power in the chaotic aftermath. She proved to be an adept politician, and the House had yet to unseat her. When Boston was founded in the New World, Margery offered to resign the rulership of the English city, in return for support in establishing herself overseas. House Carder agreed, eager to have their old fief back. The agreement was celebrated at the foot of Boston Stump, and Margery sailed for the New World. As the English Boston declined and the American Boston rose, the Kindred of House Carder realized they had made a mistake. They petitioned Margery, still Prince of the American city, and traveled across the ocean themselves, serving as members of her Primogen for decades. Finally, Margery fell from power, and House Carder established itself as Princes of Boston once more, in a city far larger and more powerful than their old base.
Around the same time, the Prince of Florence was faced with a Speaker’s Guild, led by Meister Michelangelo, which was growing in its ability to oppose the Prince’s policies, without ever actually making a bid for praxis itself. The final straw reputedly came in a night meeting on the Ponte Vecchio, when Meister Michelangelo suggested to the Prince that the Guild would assert its authority over Pisa if certain demands were not met. The prospect of reawakening the Florentine/Pisan debate terrified the elders of the city, as Meister Michelangelo had intended, but the result was not exactly what he had planned.
The Prince summoned him to a private audience, and offered him the choice of the full backing of the Prince and Primogen to take his whole Guild and set up in an American city, at that time still a colony, or of being the subject of a blood hunt. The support offered was generous, and Meister Michelangelo realized that he could not count on unseating the Prince if he chose to stay and fight. He chose to leave, and took most of his Guild with him. The members of the group that survived the perilous, torpid journey west established themselves in America, but Meister Michelangelo chose to play a less prominent role in politics this time, rather serving as an adviser. The Guild leadership has passed to other Kindred now, but its members are still prominent in their American domain, even though the place is not ruled by an Invictus Prince. They also continue to maintain formal links to the Prince of Florence, though these are now little more than an annual letter and gift sent in each direction.
What many young vampires fail to understand about the emigration of Kindred from the Old World to the New is how little planning was involved in The Invictus’ colonial efforts compared to those of England, France and Spain. The first Society vampires who came to America — and the story is much the same in other colonial nations — were typically unwanted, expendable or miserably restless in Europe, much like their mortal counterparts. What made the undead colonization of the New World so different was how little one colonist had to do with any other. There never was a central Invictus “crown” to declare the age of colonization begun. Rather, Princes of countless cities each chose, over time, to support individual plans to brave the sunlit seas into the west for the sake of preserving Invictus dominance wherever the night could be found.
Thus, those first nights in the colonies were haphazard and terrifying for the Damned of The Invictus. Knights errant, colonists and trailblazers looking to secure their own domains collided in the Americas and Africa when they followed the kine into new forts and cities, never knowing if they were stepping into another vampire’s territory and never sure that they had the practical power necessary to take what they wanted. The Invictus name brought fear and respect with it, even across the Atlantic, but even two Society Kindred couldn’t be sure they were truly on the same side. They couldn’t send word back to their lords in Europe asking for guidance, reinforcements or mediation, because the Princes of the Old World had no praxis in the New. Even if they had, why would a Kindred of Quality vying for the blood of Jamestown defer to the word of your Prince when his Prince is the highest Kindred authority he recognizes?
The nature of colonization among The Invictus also further separated the Damned of the New World from the kine they hunted. Whereas in Europe a vampire was often dwelling in the nighttime sister to a city he already knew, populated by generations of the undead with claims and rights and entitlement throughout the city, the Damned of the colonies were often alone — unless they Embraced childer of their own. That was the keystone in the architecture of the future of almost every Invictus colonist, even though they each developed their plans on their own; The Invictus do not have so many different ways of arriving at a good thought, after all.
The Invictus in the New World kept their patience and bore their own colonial families very slowly, while the kine multiplied around them. All the early vampires had to do was support themselves and hold out until the mortal populations swelled enough to support more predators in their midst. For many Invictus vampires, this meant sending neonates into the west who could feed on animals and would not be missed at court. For others, this meant simply making it to the shores of Virginia and Massachusetts and finding a deep hole to hide in for a decade or so, while the herds populated the hillsides.
When the kine had finished building cities for The Invictus — like slaves building pyramids for Pharaoh — The Invictus was reborn in the New World, free and cut off from the Old. Each new Prince was like an orphan who left to find his fortune and never looked back. And each had the freedom and the authority to redefine what it meant to be Invictus in his new domain.
The rest of the world may not agree. Most notable within Kindred society has been the rise of the Carthians. The Carthians are almost exactly the opposite of The Invictus, seeking to overthrow everything that the elder covenant stands for, and they attract a lot of support among neonates and even ancilla.
As a result, The Invictus is facing a crisis that many of its elders do not, on balance, even see as a problem: there are too few young vampires joining the covenant. Contemporary neonates see The Invictus as hidebound, and with too few opportunities for advancement. There are few remaining open cities to which they could lead colonization efforts with the support of the Inner Circle, and the grip of Invictus elders on the levers of power seems as secure as ever. Many elders, particularly the members of Cyclical Dynasties, do not see this as a problem. They see no need for weak, undisciplined, young Kindred in the covenant, and claim that they can always recruit from those older vampires who come to see the Merits of Invictus philosophy as their Requiems progress.
A few of the more far-sighted elders, however, have accepted that the world really is changing, faster than ever before. Human nature and — even more so — Kindred nature might be the same as ever, but the ability to contact someone on the other side of the planet at a moment’s notice really does make a difference to the way human nature plays out. These elders are worried that the covenant does not have the flexibility to adapt its structures to new conditions, and that the result will be anarchy as adaptable neonates take advantage of new technology to unseat their betters. The elders are convinced that this would be a bad thing; new toys do not change Kindred nature, so rule by elders is still required.
The more optimistic of these elders point out that the covenant has weathered major changes in society before, and have started making their own moves to be among those who flourish in the new world. The more pessimistic worry that The Invictus may have to be all but destroyed before the clear need for good rulership leads Kindred to recreate it.
That is the official attitude of Invictus history, and many members of the covenant see no profit in investigating in more detail. Even some vampires outside the covenant accept the basic accounts of The Invictus’ history, although many see stagnation where The Invictus sees strong tradition. Yet for all the shadows of Torpor and the failings of Kindred memory, there are elders who remember traces of detail and believe that such things matter as much to the success of the covenant as its modern nights. Likewise, the formalities of The Invictus generate many written records — some trustworthy and some suspect — and many Kindred of the First Estate choose to busy themselves with historical Research.
All this gives The Invictus of many domains access to centuries of information, but it does not always bring the truth. A detailed history does not overturn the fundamental points of public Perception. The record that remembers a true history is often overlooked in favor of the record that describes a preferred history.
The Invictus is ancient and deeply conservative. Its customs and traditions have survived two thousand years of daylight and fire, dissention and insurgence. Its name is known and feared by some of the world’s most terrible monsters, from the cold glass of the Atlantic domains to the hot lights of the Pacific Rim. Though The Invictus is often misunderstood and sometimes despised, it cannot be ignored or denied. Even external historians concede that The Invictus must be doing something right.
Classical Beginnings
"I, Marcus Didaianus Scipio of Milan, herby grant Marinus of The Invictus exclusive hunting rights among the tenements of the East back of the river, to be held for as long as his House persists..."The oldest demonstrably genuine Kindred document mentioning The Invictus is a grant of hunting rights to House Marinus — rights that the House still holds and defends whenever challenged. The grant is thought to have been made in AD 84, when the Camarilla still held sway in Rome, and the document has been produced for inspection by Invictus vampires in the court of Milan at least once per century since. The Kindred of the Marinus line claim that The Invictus of the time were a ruling class of the Camarilla, the unconquered Kindred who had risen to the top of the organization. Commonly, covenant authorities officially endorse this view.
Unofficially, many historians in and out of The Invictus doubt that claim. The reference to The Invictus in the grant sounds more like a faction than a name for the rulers of the world’s Kindred, and there is precious little supporting evidence outside of the fog of Kindred memory. Indeed, though there are other surviving documents from the period, there are no known earlier references to the name. The memories of other elders suggest The Invictus were simply a group of Kindred seeking power within the Camarilla, much like the factions of The Invictus tonight, albeit a group that was ultimately to see great success.
Ancient Lies
Whatever the details, the evidence that The Invictus existed in some form before the fall of the Camarilla is overwhelming. If nothing else, the speed with which the covenant was able to take advantage of the power vacuum left by the collapse of an over-arching structure indicates that The Invictus was already organized to a large extent. Some Kindred believe that The Invictus deliberately overthrew the Camarilla, expecting to take its place as the body ruling all vampires but that the covenant was not as strong as it thought.The question that all Kindred historians, both in and out of the covenant of Society, must ask is, how reliable is the evidence? For many vampires, the idea that evidence may be fabricated, intentionally misrepresented or erroneously interpreted is quick to conjure and hard to dispel. Can the evidence be trusted any more than the memories of the elders?
In the minds of the most conspiratorial of the Damned, the question continues to tie itself into knots the more it is handled. When dealing with the patience and the guile of The Invictus, even unbelievable schemes become fearsome — become terribly believable. Could The Invictus have manufactured evidence in the form of texts, tablets, legend and folklore all those centuries ago for the very purpose of corroborating the stories they and their childer would tell in a thousand years? Is it possible that the eldest of Society had the clever minds to plan so far ahead and the willpower to pull it off? How much of the history that has been passed down by the First Estate is propaganda? How much has been slowly, painstakingly skewed over a thousand years for the purpose of creating the very world all the Kindred beneath The Invictus now dance and die in? How much of the intelligence passed down by — or dug up with — the ancient Invictus is an outright lie? How can anyone prove it?
As some scholastic-minded vampires have supposed over the centuries, The Invictus have the Fog of Eternity in their favor in such a scheme. Not only would the Fog of Eternity cloud the memories of Society’s enemies and erode the facts that rivals and skeptics could use to disprove The Invictus accounts of history, but the Fog would aid the fablers among the First Estate in the maintenance of their thousand-year lie.
Imagine an Invictus Prince commissioning his own histories of the nights he rules — all life-like fictions, all very nearly the truth — from the hands of loyal scriveners. A dozen such texts are scattered, hidden and inherited throughout the centuries. The texts age, become rare and are gradually forgotten. Then, a millennium later, vampires of every covenant awaken one by one across the globe. In time, by plan or by fortune, those ancient books are found. The books help the groggy elders fill in the blanks in their minds, and the elders support some — maybe most — of the history contained in those books, which are now priceless artifacts. Without knowing it, a handful of unwitting Kindred have become accomplices in an ancient lie, bearing false witness against history.
If even the scheming vampire who hatches this plan doesn’t recall the truth — doesn’t know what exactly he’s done — how can anyone sniff out his lie? If he believes his own deception, how can anyone know him for the pretender he is? If the world believes his lie, is it truly a lie at all anymore?
The Heroic Age
The early Middle Ages were the Heroic Age of The Invictus, when individuals and Cyclical Dynasties performed great deeds that set the covenant firmly on the road to power. More than any other time, the stories of this period mix history and myth in a way that is hard to separate. Some of the greatest elders of modern nights have reputations founded on tales from this period, so objective historical investigation can be dangerous to one’s social health. On the other hand, conclusively proving that an elder never performed the great deeds attributed to him would be a valuable part of a campaign against him.The Invictus tell many stories of this period, and only a few representative ones can be recounted here. Modern Kindred, particularly among the Carthians and The Ordo Dracul, have noted that some tales of The Invictus do not fit with histories recognized by kine scholars. To the Carthians, this is clear evidence that the history of The Invictus is little more than a bunch of self-serving myths, a tradition of oral propaganda. To The Invictus, it shows the advantages of having eyewitnesses to events over a thousand years ago still available for consultation. Over time, however, the kine do change their opinions about history, often quite radically, and so debates of historical continuity are unlikely to be resolved soon.
Some vampires, Invictus and not, believe tales such as the following were always intended as parables of political and social power, rather than accounts of genuine history. The facts of these stories may be open to interpretation — they may even be disproved outright — but the boundaries of their truth extend beyond the realms of fact.
Quintus of Alexandria
When the Camarilla fell, the cities of North Africa were among the first to fall into chaos. The nights ran with blood and fire as Kindred brought old feuds out into the open grounds of Kindred society and created new feuds in the struggle for territory and influence. Not a dawn passed that was not seen by at least one of the city’s Kindred, and every day the kine became a little more knowledgeable, a little more scared and a little more dangerous.In the midst of this anarchy, Quintus of Alexandria, an Invictus ancilla, set out to bring peace. A great Advocate and Speaker, he warned powerful vampires of the risks to their own holdings if the struggle was allowed to continue, and pointed out to the weak that they were disproportionately the ones being sacrificed. He encouraged the formation of alliances and negotiated settlements between warring houses. Wearing the pure white cloth of a candidate for office, Quintus brought enemies together in front of the churches of the city and brokered settlements witnessed by “the stars above our heads, the sands beneath our feet, the sea in our ears and the God at our backs.”
Moved by the terms of his oath, members of The Lancea Sanctum came to see his mission as divinely backed, and local Kindred of that covenant slowly fell into place behind him. The Invictus, of course, had always worked for order within the city. One night in December, the Kindred of the city gathered in the Church of the Blessed Virgin, and selected a Bishop of The Lancea Sanctum as their Prince. Quintus pronounced himself satisfied with the restoration of peace, and swore loyalty to the Prince like all the rest.
But, as might have been expected, a Prince with such strong loyalties to a single creed could not rule peacefully over a diverse city. Disputes began to Flare, and the Kindred noticed that the Prince always resolved them in favor of The Lancea Sanctum. The Kindred of other covenants became discontented with this, and soon took their disputes to Quintus instead. They reminded the other parties of Quintus’ long strivings for peace and his failure to seize power as a result, arguing that he was clearly a neutral broker.
Within a year, the Prince declared that Quintus was not permitted to resolve disputes and was banished from the city. Quintus responded by launching a bid for praxis, a bid supported by many non-Sanctified Kindred and some of the Prince’s own covenant mates. Within two nights, the former Prince had fled, leaving Quintus in undisputed command of the city. The Inner Circle awarded him the title of Marquis of Alexandria in recognition of his great actions.
Note: Stories of similar form are told about several other cities within the former Roman Empire, but Quintus of Alexandria is the most famous. The Marquis of Alexandria survives to present nights, although he is no longer a Prince. Instead, he serves as an adviser to Princes, of whatever covenant, and most knowledgeable Kindred believe that as long as he does so Alexandria shall remain an Invictus city.
Palladius of Ireland
Remaining an island of barbarians on the edge of the world, Ireland was never conquered by the Roman Empire. In the last nights of the Camarilla, a vampire named Palladius looked beyond its borders, reasoning that strength was likely to be found beyond the increasingly vicious political struggles of a dying organization. He took a ship to Ireland and brought it to land in the middle of a storm. He stepped onto the shore, planting his staff in the sand and declaring, “From shore to shore, surrounded by the sea, this land is the domain of The Invictus. Let none challenge our mastery of the night.” The storm itself was cowed by his words, subsiding in mere moments, the clouds clearing to let the stars shine down on Palladius’ head.By such an omen, the success of the enterprise was assured, but it was not yet attained. Ireland had no cities and few resident Kindred of its own. Some of these vampires, unlike any in the rest of Europe, were said to take the form of serpents when they rested by day, and in that form basked in the sun. They held that this made them superior to the vampires of the rest of the world, and refused to negotiate in any way with the invader, Palladius. Instead, they swore they would destroy him and all his brood, wiping out the foreigners who dared to stain their island. Regretfully, Palladius prepared for war.
Palladius needed cities for his bases of action, and so his first act was to travel the length and breadth of the island, encouraging the people to gather into larger settlements. These settlements, for the most part, formed around abbeys, and Palladius brought in Allies from The Lancea Sanctum to help The Invictus administer the land. The relationship was clearly spelled out from the beginning, as The Invictus ruled and the Sanctified provided advice, and the two covenants worked harmoniously together.
Palladius himself sired many childer, the better to spread his influence, and his battles with the undead serpents became the stuff of legends. Finally, the last remnants of the serpents made a stand on the Atlantic coast, their backs to a cliff overlooking the ocean. Palladius stood alone, his childer and Allies spread out as sentries to make sure that none of the serpents could flee. Calling on all the powers of his blood, Palladius rent the serpents limb from limb, and their magic was ineffective against him. He hurled the bodies into the ocean, and left the heads on the cliff to face the sunlight, for they would not be able to take refuge as serpents now.
With his final victory, Palladius was granted the title Duke of Ireland, and took his place as Prince of the whole country.
Note: Several stories of Invictus Kindred creating new realms to rule emerge from this period, but the conquest of the whole of Ireland is by far the most spectacular. There are two surviving Kindred who claim to be Palladius of Ireland. Both are allowed the title Duke of Ireland within their respective cities, and each one issues thunderous denunciations of the other and offers a reward for proof of his Final Death. Some Kindred believe that the two were originally part of a cyclical dynasty and that it was the dynasty that conquered Ireland. Others point out the plain parallels to the legend of St. Patrick, and believe that the legend of Palladius is wholly fabricated.
Valea of Byzantium
When the Eastern Roman Empire being transformed into the Byzantine Empire, there lurked a great but mysterious Invictus hero called Valea. Little is known of her before those nights during the reign of Heraclius when she seeped into power, but some say she had lived all of her days in Constantinople before her Embrace. Some take this even further, to say that she had been in the city since its first days, and that she slumbers there, still. The mystery of Valea’s origin is a part of her heroism: history forgets the powerful women who operate behind the Princes and emperors of the past, but history never forget the women’s work.Valea was residing within Constantinople, in the rich, palatial havens of ambassadors, diplomats, merchants and advisors to Heraclius himself. In life, she was apparently a homeless waif, begging for bread and stealing wine. In death, she drifted among the wealthy and the powerful as an odalisque, drawing tales of intrigue out of her lovers as she had once drawn money from passersby and stealing blood like she once stole wine. Valea was already smarter and more insidious than most of her prey, but, after years of lounging in expensive private libraries and attending lavish performances, she was more educated than her paramours as well. Decades of clandestine sex and spying with the renowned men of Byzantium yielded her a collection of information and insight into the city that no one mortal man could ever have been able to accumulate in a lifetime.
In the middle of the 7th century, the Byzantine Emperor Constans II divided Constantinople into a series of military-controlled sections, called themes. At the time, Constantinople was a swelling city — soon to be the largest is Christendom — and this growing population of urbanizing farmers and craftspeople was taking its toll on the Kindred of the city. The Invictus Prince of Constantinople was facing a rush of new vampires bred by passionate neonates who felt the city could finally support new Kindred made by their hand. With the formation of the Emperor’s new themes, The Invictus were also finding that they had little familiarity and even less influence with the revised municipal order. While Constantinople was solidifying into a crowning city of the world — able to repel numerous Arab assaults and internal crises of iconoclasm and religion — the nighttime city of the Damned was in turmoil. The Prince feared that, without a new structure for the Kindred of Byzantium to dwell within, the Masquerade was at risk. Valea — who was nothing at court and had never met the Prince — heard tell of this and agreed with him.
She also had a plan. She knew several of the Emperor’s advisors and attachés very well — much better than they knew her — so she had information about the philosophy behind the themes and the social mechanisms that made them work. She advised the Prince on ways to organize the domains within Constantinople to keep them from creating friction with the municipal order of the kine. “How do you know so much, girl?” the Prince asked her. “I listened,” she said.
Through the end of the reign of Constans II, through the reign of Leo II in the 8th century, Valea and the Prince restructured the territories and politics of The Invictus in Constantinople. Using the Prince’s experience and Valea’s insight, they refined systems of action and responsibility that reduced the maneuvering room within the covenant for conspirators to plot against the Prince, as had been common since the Damned population swell a hundred years before. The Prince and Valea developed a series of operational social units within the domain — populations defined by their duties rather than their territory — that had to answer directly to the Prince himself. Therefore, conspiracies might swell within the individual competing units, called tagmata (regiments), but they could not reach the Prince without first going through one of his lieutenants who oversaw the tagmata. That lieutenant — who had to report directly, and alone, to the Prince — would be unlikely to face his lord during a formative coup without revealing himself to the Prince’s formidable mind.
After the mortal Emperor Constantine V returned to Constantinople following his own betrayal and subsequent military vengeance, he also called for municipal reform. He sought a system to replace the city’s themes and protect himself from further intrigues and would-be usurpers. Much to the Prince’s surprise, the system that Constantine’s advisors eventually brought before their Emperor employed a collection of tagmata, each of which reported directly to Constantine — and several of whom were sharing beds with Valea or her childer. “How you did manage that, girl?” the Prince asked her. “I spoke,” she said. “And they listened.”
Note: Valea’s name is known in domains from Turkey to the United States, but typically without much historical detail. Among modern Invictus, she is known by name only, like a mortal might know Joan of Arc without really knowing anything about her history or the period in which she gained her Fame. The broad strokes of Valea’s story — a concubine feeding from powerful mortals shapes the society of the Damned with the secrets she gleans — are common to a variety of rumors and urban legends among Society Kindred, as they are common among the kine. For a time, Valea’s name was used (sometimes as the masculine Valeo) by numerous Invictus spies in European domains, inspired into action by tales of Mata Hari. Tonight, Valea’s name has become a kind of crass Invictus slang for any undead seductress, from beguiling spies to treacherous whores.
The Emperor Myth: A Cautionary Tale
By the late 11th century, the Heroic Age had drawn to a close. The Invictus were powerful across Europe, and should have been poised to bring back the unity lost in the fall of the Camarilla. Instead, the covenant itself was at risk of splintering into fragments. The followers of each hero believed that they were the true Invictus, and that they should be leading the others. When their claims were denied, they rallied behind their hero, and they fought.For a few decades around the turn of the 12th century, it seemed that The Invictus would destroy themselves in internecine conflict. An Invictus Seer, Aelfgifu, had a series of visions of where this would lead, visions of European cities drenched in the blood of a hundred, tiny nocturnal wars, where monsters even darker than vampires came from the wilderness to wipe out the remaining Kindred and feast on the kine. Stirred by her vision, she began traveling in Europe, calling on The Invictus to cease their fighting and unify. Quickly, her call took the concrete form of a call for a great council of the elders of The Invictus, at which all disputes would be resolved and The Invictus formed into a single force to lead the Kindred and defend against the even greater threat of the monsters of the wilderness.
The First Council met within a few years of 1142, by modern reckonings. Most accounts hold that it was held in the catacombs under Rome, in the old center of the Empire, surrounded by the bones of the Imperial dead. Aelfgifu stood before the assembled elders, and told them once more of her vision and of the only chance she saw for avoiding such a fate. Then she stepped back, to allow the debate to begin. The beginning was easy. The assembled elders quickly agreed that The Invictus should be unified, bringing all of the Kindred of Europe and, later, the world, under a single set of rulers. The inevitable following question was that of who should lead The Invictus, and here the expected deadlock set in. Each of the elders, ruler of a city, believed that he should lead the whole covenant, and no one was willing to give ground. Throughout the debate, Aelfgifu remained silent, seated on a simple chair in front of shelves filled with the delicate corpses of the ancient dead. For most of the debate, her eyes remained on the floor.
The Princes of Paris and Cologne strode into the center of the hall, intent on fighting to determine precedence, and Aelfgifu briefly raised her eyes. Abashed, the two elders returned to their seats, declaring that they would not sully this honorable location with violence. The Princes of Greece made to leave, declaring that the Council was a sham, and Aelfgifu looked briefly at each of them in turn. Each returned to his seat, muttering that despite the best efforts of others, he would ensure that the debate met with success. The Prince of Rome itself declared that, as the Council was held in his city, he would . . . . At which point he realized that Aelfgifu was looking at him, and concluded his sentence by saying that he would guarantee the Council’s safety for as long as it took to reach a decision.
After many nights of debate, a decision was reached. Each of the assembled elders was declared an Elector, and the Electors would choose an Emperor for The Invictus from among their number. The Emperor would be the first among the elders of the covenant, with the authority to settle disputes between them but without the authority to intervene in issues within the realm of a single elder. The Emperor would also be responsible for the strategy by which all the Kindred of the world were to be brought under the control of The Invictus.
The votes were made to Aelfgifu, who was herself neither Elector nor candidate, and the successful claimant announced. He was anointed with blood, robed in Imperial purple and presented to the Electors, who As One swore fealty on his behalf and on behalf of their followers.
After electing the Emperor, the Council continued under his guidance. The titles held within The Invictus, and the criteria on which they should be awarded, were standardized. Titles awarded during the Heroic Age were regularized, and the systems of the covenant in different domains brought into line with one another. The debates occasionally became slightly heated, but, in general, the assembled elders were content that the title of Elector out-ranked all but that of Emperor, and so were happy see their underlings nominally demoted as the price of covenant unity.
The First Council dispersed a success and conflicts within the covenant halted, as elders enforced the law in their own domains and referred inter-domain disputes to the Emperor. The Invictus began their push to bring the rest of the Kindred under their sway, and for a time they seemed destined for success.
The Site of the First Council
While most accounts, and most Kindred memories, suggest that the First Council was held in Rome, there are differing accounts. A small but respected group of elders clearly remember that it was held in Aachen, others report that it was held in Constantinople. The elders who claim the First Council convened in London — or a half-dozen other personally favored cities — are typically discounted.The Invictus of Rome sometimes show rare, celebrated visitors the chamber where the Council was purportedly held, but the room is rather different from the one depicted in either the Rome or Lake Codices, described below. Specifically, it is at the top of a well and largely undecorated.
The Book of the Council
The proceedings of the Council, and Aelfgifu’s visions, were recorded in a sumptuous manuscript, illustrated with scenes from the Council itself. All those who were present remember the scribes creating this volume, and recall seeing it complete before they left.The Book of the Council may survive. In fact, there are many surviving candidates, each claiming to be the real thing. Some are obvious late forgeries, written on paper manufactured in the 16th, 17th or even 18th centuries. A couple of printed editions have even circulated. These late forgeries include the name of the elected Emperor and were usually traced back to their authors by working out whose agenda was supported.
A handful of the surviving books are not obvious fakes. There are three well-known volumes (the Rome Codex, the Lake Codex and the Reilmeyer Codex), which have been securely dated to the 12th century, both in terms of writing style and the age of the Materials. The Rome Codex and the Lake Codex are extremely similar, although both give slightly different accounts of the proceedings. The vampires who were present disagree on the same sorts of details as the two texts, so they cannot decide which is genuine. In both books, the name and portrait of the Emperor have been cut out wherever they occurred. Some of the text that was written on the back side of these cut portraits was written on slips stained into the books’ last pages as haphazard replacements. The craftsmanship of these replacements is different from that of the bodies of the main texts but is the same in both volumes’ replacement slips. The calligraphy of these replacements is also 12th century in style, and the slips of parchment are of the same age. The evidence thus suggests that the Emperor was removed from the record while he was still in power.
The differences between the Lake and Rome Codices are mostly minor, with one exception. According to the Rome Codex, the Kindred of The Invictus unified to conquer all other Kindred. According to the Lake Codex, the Kindred of The Invictus unified to defend all Kindred from the monsters warned of in Aelfgifu’s visions. Successful modern authorities in most Invictus domains tend to support the Language of the Lake Codex.
The Reilmeyer Codex is even more different. Its account of the First Council simply fails to mention the election of the Emperor at all, although the Codex does cover the decision to give the members of the council that power and the title of Elector, and the Codex provides much more detail of Aelfgifu’s visions. Indeed, it is largely an account of those visions. The book was almost certainly written some time in the 12th century, but its highly accurate account of the Third Crusade, as seen from a Kindred perspective, has led many Kindred to believe that the Codex is, in fact, a very early forgery, written to bolster a particular political agenda. It is less clear what that agenda was, and the prophecies in the book continue for centuries. The prophecies up to the early 21st century deal entirely with fairly minor events, and are not specific about places. There are some Kindred who devote their Requiems to tracking down the events mentioned in the Reilmeyer Codex. As the next set of larger prophecies, which do not bode well, approach their supposed time of fulfillment, the number of Kindred trying to work out the book’s trustworthiness continues to increase.
The Imperial Years
The Emperor remained at the head of The Invictus for over a century. At first, his rule was highly effective, and The Invictus grew in power throughout Europe. After a few decades, The Invictus truly thought of themselves as part of an organization that spanned the world.And that was where the problems started. Individual Kindred did not want titles that were recognized in one city; they wanted to be recognized, and deferred to, everywhere. The number of disputes appealed to the Emperor steadily rose, as the Notary of one city tried to prove his superiority to the Notary of another. Invictus Princes who weren’t Electors petitioned for the title; Electors who weren’t Princes petitioned to have the “upstart” removed.
Things were finally brought to a head, however, by a Guild War. The Guild of Speakers in Florence, led by Meister Ottobuono, declared that the Guild of Speakers in Pisa, led by Meister Beatrice, were a group of frauds, unworthy to teach, and that the Florentine Guild should have control over teaching in the other city as well. Meister Beatrice responded that Meister Ottobuono was addled by age and Megalomania, and should be stripped of the title of Meister as he was a disgrace to his rank.
The dispute was appealed to the Emperor, and the two Meisters began gathering Allies. It is now, centuries after the assassination of both principals, agreed that Meister Ottobuono and Meister Beatrice were the two greatest Speakers in the history of the covenant. Each traveled to other cities, speaking persuasively of their struggle, and linking it to the political issues that exercised the Kindred of that place. In Cologne, Meister Ottobuono convinced a leadership under pressure from the Sanctified that a victory for the Pisans would result in The Invictus submitting to The Lancea Sanctum in all things. In Paris, Meister Beatrice convinced an Elector-Prince on the verge of Torpor that the Florentines were seeking to bring his city under their personal control, so that he would awaken in centuries with no power, no Allies and no hope.
Within a few years there was no one in The Invictus who was not either a Florentine or a Pisan. The dispute between the guilds had receded to minor importance, being nothing more than an occasion for differences that had, frequently, been manufactured by the two Meisters. When the case finally came before the Emperor, he was faced with an impossible decision, as ruling in any way would provoke civil war between Invictus domains.
the Imperial Court
The Invictus Emperor presided over the Imperial Court, an underground complex of unsurpassed magnificence. The audience chamber, decorated with statues and illuminated with hundreds of carefully shielded oil lamps, was as large as the nave of the largest cathedrals in Europe. The Oath Chamber, a much more intimate room where individual Kindred swore fealty and other oaths to the Emperor or their own lords, was said to be plated entirely in gold, studded with gems and decorated with panels painted on ivory. In the feasting hall, there were fountains that nightly ran with human blood.The complex also included hundreds of rooms, providing accommodation for the Emperor’s staff, his Herd and the retinues of visiting elders. Neonates and ancillae were not granted access to the court itself, and even most elders needed an invitation before they could enter. Exceptions were made for the Electors, who had the right of access to the Emperor at any time.
The location of the Imperial Court was a well-kept secret, with the Emperor sending guides skilled in misdirection to bring most elders before him. The Electors all knew how to get there, but no two knew the same route. The portals to the complex were disguised, and some people suggest that the disguises were not wholly mundane.
The Imperial Court is now lost. The surviving Electors do not remember how to get there, and all attempts to piece together a route have failed. It is almost as if the place never existed.
The Final Council
At this point, Meister Ottobuono was found dead at the Imperial Court, dismembered at every joint, his torso sliced between each vertebra and his head cut in half. The pieces were carefully arranged around his Haven. The ghoul guards, all under Vinculum to Ottobuono claimed to have seen nothing, but were executed anyway.The same sunset, Meister Beatrice was found dead, her torso burned to ash, while her head and limbs, and the bed on which she was lying, remained entirely unharmed. Again, the guards, under Vinculum to Beatrice, claimed to have seen nothing, and were executed for betraying their mistress.
As shock and fear raced though the Imperial Court, the Emperor summoned all the Electors to a Council. They came, and that is a mystery. The Invictus were on the verge of war, an unstoppable assassin was at work at the Court — and yet the most powerful elders came from all over Europe, and some from beyond.
The Final Council’s decisions were simple. The Council accepted the abdication of the Emperor and dissolved the title. All Electors renounced those titles and renounced any idea of a central government for The Invictus. Instead, the Electors would return to running city fiefs as individual realms, so that a Guild recognized in one city had no claim vis-à-vis a Guild recognized in another.
The First Council’s decisions on regularizing titles and etiquette were retained, however, as all recognized that it was valuable for The Invictus to remain recognizably a single covenant and for those few Kindred who did move between cities to be able to integrate as quickly as possible into The Invictus of their new home. As the Final Council closed, the Imperial Court itself was closed, never to be used again.
Did it Happen?
The story of the Imperial Years of The Invictus is not completely coherent, as a number of young Kindred delight in pointing out. Why would all the elders gather for two great Councils, traveling impossibly across the dark between cities when civil war was imminent? The story of the First Council strongly suggests that Aelfgifu was using the mystic force of her blood to push all the elders into submission — why did they accept that? Why is there no record of the identity of the Emperor, even in the memories of those Kindred who claim to have been there? Where, exactly, was the Imperial Court, and why does no city claim it in current nights?Some Kindred claim that the whole story is merely a parable, warning of the dangers of both excessive competition and excessive unity within The Invictus, and thus serving to prop up the regimes of contemporary Princes. This has a certain plausibility. Whatever the Emperor once was, tonight he is a symbol of the terrible risk that comes with an elected ruler.
And yet . . . . A few very old Kindred remember The Invictus Emperor. No one remembers who the Emperor was, but even members of other covenants also remember him existing, although they had little to do with him. Small references to the Florentine/Pisan division in the last years of the Emperor abound in contemporary documents. There are Invictus elders who believe they remember being Electors and being present at both Councils, and their memories agree as much as can be expected after so much time and so many torpors.
Some Invictus Kindred believe that the Imperial Years did happen, but that much more than the identity of the Emperor was erased from the historical record. Some Kindred worry about the power that is strong enough to rewrite not only history but the recollections of those who made that history.
Most modern Society vampires don’t buy into the fairy tale, though, and they’ve found plenty of historical evidence to discount the tale. The most popular of the modern interpretations is that the Emperor Myth is, in truth, a tale of the end of the Camarilla, redressed in medieval costumes for a medieval audience, much as all biblical and many classical tales of the time were recast. The very presence of “Electors” in the legend even suggests that electoral systems are historically proven to be flawed — some Kindred in and out of Society believe such references may have been added to influence a population gradually hearing ancient tales of democratic Greece and getting ideas.
What is true and what is false in the Emperor Myth may be impossible for contemporary Kindred to know. Even the eldest among The Invictus have been rumored to say, “The facts of the story mean nothing anymore. It’s too late for blame. The truth of it does not tarnish, and that is all we need know.” In the modern night, what really matters to the covenant is that the story is a point of reference for many Kindred of Quality. All The Invictus should beware the fate of the Emperor, who was both conquered and ignored.
New Worlds
The Age of Exploration brought new worlds to the attention of Europeans and European Kindred. The rhetoric of the age was that these worlds were empty and ripe for the picking, but The Invictus were wise enough not to believe their own rhetoric.Invictus expeditions to establish new domains in the new worlds — African, Asian and American — were backed up with significant Resources, and helped greatly to consolidate Invictus power in the Old World. In those cities where there were disputes within The Invictus or elders with power that matched and even threatened the Prince, the members of one side would be sent by the other to follow the kine and establish a new colony.
This could be seen as exile and, of course, it was. However, many Invictus Princes took care to supply those who were being exiled with a great deal of assistance and large amounts of Resources, to give them as high a chance of success as possible. Where rivalry was political rather than personal, the exiles accepted this as a good deal. Rather than fight against entrenched leaders at home, they could go, with Resources from their rivals, to establish new power bases in new places, where they would at least have the advantage of being an unknown quantity.
A few of these arrangements became famous. One popular Society account that may even be true is the tale of the Prince of Boston, in England, who faced a cyclical dynasty as a rival, a dynasty that had previously ruled the city. House Carder had lost power during the Black Death, when Margery Shepherd had claimed power in the chaotic aftermath. She proved to be an adept politician, and the House had yet to unseat her. When Boston was founded in the New World, Margery offered to resign the rulership of the English city, in return for support in establishing herself overseas. House Carder agreed, eager to have their old fief back. The agreement was celebrated at the foot of Boston Stump, and Margery sailed for the New World. As the English Boston declined and the American Boston rose, the Kindred of House Carder realized they had made a mistake. They petitioned Margery, still Prince of the American city, and traveled across the ocean themselves, serving as members of her Primogen for decades. Finally, Margery fell from power, and House Carder established itself as Princes of Boston once more, in a city far larger and more powerful than their old base.
Around the same time, the Prince of Florence was faced with a Speaker’s Guild, led by Meister Michelangelo, which was growing in its ability to oppose the Prince’s policies, without ever actually making a bid for praxis itself. The final straw reputedly came in a night meeting on the Ponte Vecchio, when Meister Michelangelo suggested to the Prince that the Guild would assert its authority over Pisa if certain demands were not met. The prospect of reawakening the Florentine/Pisan debate terrified the elders of the city, as Meister Michelangelo had intended, but the result was not exactly what he had planned.
The Prince summoned him to a private audience, and offered him the choice of the full backing of the Prince and Primogen to take his whole Guild and set up in an American city, at that time still a colony, or of being the subject of a blood hunt. The support offered was generous, and Meister Michelangelo realized that he could not count on unseating the Prince if he chose to stay and fight. He chose to leave, and took most of his Guild with him. The members of the group that survived the perilous, torpid journey west established themselves in America, but Meister Michelangelo chose to play a less prominent role in politics this time, rather serving as an adviser. The Guild leadership has passed to other Kindred now, but its members are still prominent in their American domain, even though the place is not ruled by an Invictus Prince. They also continue to maintain formal links to the Prince of Florence, though these are now little more than an annual letter and gift sent in each direction.
What many young vampires fail to understand about the emigration of Kindred from the Old World to the New is how little planning was involved in The Invictus’ colonial efforts compared to those of England, France and Spain. The first Society vampires who came to America — and the story is much the same in other colonial nations — were typically unwanted, expendable or miserably restless in Europe, much like their mortal counterparts. What made the undead colonization of the New World so different was how little one colonist had to do with any other. There never was a central Invictus “crown” to declare the age of colonization begun. Rather, Princes of countless cities each chose, over time, to support individual plans to brave the sunlit seas into the west for the sake of preserving Invictus dominance wherever the night could be found.
Thus, those first nights in the colonies were haphazard and terrifying for the Damned of The Invictus. Knights errant, colonists and trailblazers looking to secure their own domains collided in the Americas and Africa when they followed the kine into new forts and cities, never knowing if they were stepping into another vampire’s territory and never sure that they had the practical power necessary to take what they wanted. The Invictus name brought fear and respect with it, even across the Atlantic, but even two Society Kindred couldn’t be sure they were truly on the same side. They couldn’t send word back to their lords in Europe asking for guidance, reinforcements or mediation, because the Princes of the Old World had no praxis in the New. Even if they had, why would a Kindred of Quality vying for the blood of Jamestown defer to the word of your Prince when his Prince is the highest Kindred authority he recognizes?
The nature of colonization among The Invictus also further separated the Damned of the New World from the kine they hunted. Whereas in Europe a vampire was often dwelling in the nighttime sister to a city he already knew, populated by generations of the undead with claims and rights and entitlement throughout the city, the Damned of the colonies were often alone — unless they Embraced childer of their own. That was the keystone in the architecture of the future of almost every Invictus colonist, even though they each developed their plans on their own; The Invictus do not have so many different ways of arriving at a good thought, after all.
The Invictus in the New World kept their patience and bore their own colonial families very slowly, while the kine multiplied around them. All the early vampires had to do was support themselves and hold out until the mortal populations swelled enough to support more predators in their midst. For many Invictus vampires, this meant sending neonates into the west who could feed on animals and would not be missed at court. For others, this meant simply making it to the shores of Virginia and Massachusetts and finding a deep hole to hide in for a decade or so, while the herds populated the hillsides.
When the kine had finished building cities for The Invictus — like slaves building pyramids for Pharaoh — The Invictus was reborn in the New World, free and cut off from the Old. Each new Prince was like an orphan who left to find his fortune and never looked back. And each had the freedom and the authority to redefine what it meant to be Invictus in his new domain.
Recent Nights
For The Invictus, the last two centuries are all part of current events. There are elders who have been in Torpor since the United States was a group of English colonies — and even those who have been more active might only now be acknowledging that this country seems to have some staying power as a political entity. Elders are used to wars convulsing large portions of their known world and to plagues carrying off large numbers of kine. For some Invictus elders, the broad stroke of recent history is just a recast version of the oldest human stories of woe and blood and distraction.The rest of the world may not agree. Most notable within Kindred society has been the rise of the Carthians. The Carthians are almost exactly the opposite of The Invictus, seeking to overthrow everything that the elder covenant stands for, and they attract a lot of support among neonates and even ancilla.
As a result, The Invictus is facing a crisis that many of its elders do not, on balance, even see as a problem: there are too few young vampires joining the covenant. Contemporary neonates see The Invictus as hidebound, and with too few opportunities for advancement. There are few remaining open cities to which they could lead colonization efforts with the support of the Inner Circle, and the grip of Invictus elders on the levers of power seems as secure as ever. Many elders, particularly the members of Cyclical Dynasties, do not see this as a problem. They see no need for weak, undisciplined, young Kindred in the covenant, and claim that they can always recruit from those older vampires who come to see the Merits of Invictus philosophy as their Requiems progress.
A few of the more far-sighted elders, however, have accepted that the world really is changing, faster than ever before. Human nature and — even more so — Kindred nature might be the same as ever, but the ability to contact someone on the other side of the planet at a moment’s notice really does make a difference to the way human nature plays out. These elders are worried that the covenant does not have the flexibility to adapt its structures to new conditions, and that the result will be anarchy as adaptable neonates take advantage of new technology to unseat their betters. The elders are convinced that this would be a bad thing; new toys do not change Kindred nature, so rule by elders is still required.
The more optimistic of these elders point out that the covenant has weathered major changes in society before, and have started making their own moves to be among those who flourish in the new world. The more pessimistic worry that The Invictus may have to be all but destroyed before the clear need for good rulership leads Kindred to recreate it.
“Don’t you dare tell me how it was, childe!
I was there that day, beneath the sun . . .
when they opened
the cathedral doors for the first time.
So long as I remain,
that day
will never end.”
I was there that day, beneath the sun . . .
when they opened
the cathedral doors for the first time.
So long as I remain,
that day
will never end.”
The Privileges of Caesar
A set of marble tablets, supposedly held by The Invictus of Rome, carry an inscription granting The Invictus rulership of the night as Gaius Julius Caesar holds command over the day. The Latin of the inscription is appropriate to the late Republic, and the tablets have unquestionably existed in their present form since the early Middle Ages. The covenant, outside Rome, has never officially endorsed the tablets, which leads most Kindred to believe that the rulers of The Invictus suspect that they are forgeries.Another theory, however, is that the tablets are genuine, and that The Invictus elders still include Kindred responsible for breaching the Masquerade to the extent of forming an explicit treaty with the kine. Some Carthians who would love to turn The Invictus’ past into a tool for unseating some of its greatest elders have spent time searching for supporting evidence showing that the privileges are genuine trespasses against The Traditions.
The Emperor of the Night
The Invictus Emperor is one of the most important figures in Invictus history. It is, then, surprising that no one remembers who was elected. There are surviving Kindred who were present at the First Council, and all are sure that they were not elected. That would be strange enough — but it is not that the recollections of these ancient vampires differ, but rather that they remember nothing.They remember the ceremony, they remember swearing loyalty and they remember the continuing existence of the Emperor for decades afterward — but they do not remember who the Emperor was.