Unlife in the Invictus

I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls, With vassals and serfs at my side, And of all who assembled within those walls, That I was the hope and the pride. — Alfred Bunn, Bohemian Girl

Vampire the Requiem - Covenant - Invictus

Etiquette and Protocol

Etiquette, protocol or simply good manners — in the First Estate, there’s very definitely a right and wrong way to behave. The covenant steeps its activities in formality, from a grand ball in the Prince’s honor to a private meeting between business partners. Invictus members often show the same formality when dealing with other Kindred. The Invictus uses the other vampire’s title, and insists on the same courtesy in return.
Other Kindred sometimes make fun of the First Estate’s obsession with elaborate manners. Invictus members can seem like pompous, stuffed shirts as they bow and make grandiloquent speeches. The covenant is deadly serious about its etiquette, though. Good manners alone won’t raise Kindred to eminence in The Invictus, but a vampire who will not learn the covenant’s codes of conduct will never receive any rank or respect, no matter what his achievements.
Honorifics, formal wear, the nuances of Bows, curtsies and genuflections and other small social rituals are a way to show respect for another vampire. Junior members of The Invictus must acknowledge the rank and, by extension, the achievements of their superiors. The covenant does not see this as a degrading show of submission. Bowing to an elder — or even a full genuflection, in the most tradition-bound Invictus groups — shows that you know and honor the elder’s power. Likewise, you dress your best when presented to a superior: she honors you simply by allowing you to be in the same room with her. You should show you appreciate the honor. Anyone who doesn’t show such respect would merely demonstrate his own ignorance and folly.
In the First Estate’s culture of patronage, those who show respect receive it in return. Not much, maybe — a neonate with no great achievements to his name does not deserve any deference from an elder of high rank — but enough to show that the covenant’s leaders accept their juniors as fellow members of their august company.

Customs of Address

Titles and honorifics are a close indicator of respect as well as formal rank. The greater the difference in Status between two Invictus, the more formality the lower-ranking member shows. An Invictus neonate would not speak to a Prince, Primogen or Priscus unless commanded to do so; and then, he would address her as Your Excellency, My lady or some other honorific. Only a member of equal rank would dare even to say Sir. Any Invictus in good standing, however, can expect to be addressed as Mister, Miss or Madam, with the vampire’s surname. (Some Invictus consider Ms. to be modern barbarism.) If a higher-ranking Invictus addressed a junior by his first name, she would demonstrate a complete lack of respect — even contempt, as if the Kindred were merely a servant or a childe. Even a servant or childe would never be addressed by some abbreviation or diminution of his first name or a nickname. Any vampire who has a high-ranking Invictus address him so familiarly knows his career in the covenant is over — or at least in grave danger.

Solidarity

Punctilious codes of conduct help to distinguish Invictus members from non-members, establishing The Invictus as a class apart from other vampires. An insider knows when he may speak and when he must remain silent. He knows the covenant’s special turns of speech, and when to use them. He knows what gestures of honor or submission to make, and how to perform them gracefully. Most importantly, perhaps, he shows that he respects the covenant enough to learn its complicated rules. He reassures other members of his determination to stay in The Invictus. They know they can deal with him without fear he’ll skip off to another covenant and abandon his commitments.

Defusing Conflict

By encasing every act in rituals of courtesy, The Invictus prevents open warfare between its members — no small task in a society built on ambition. Among such proud predators, any hint of weakness might provoke a challenge, any breath of insult might provoke a vendetta. Members hide behind the dance of etiquette, so that other members see only the privileges and obligations of their rank — not that the Gangrel Priscus loathes the Prince, the Seneschal is smitten with the Sheriff’s childe and the Mekhet delegate to the Inner Circle suffers a paranoid fear of everyone.
Etiquette also gives Invictus members a way to compete and attack each other without risking anyone’s unlives. Trying to kill another member, or seizing property such as hunting turf or a business, could lead to all-out war as the disputants call in their Allies. It’s much safer for everyone to maneuver an enemy into a humiliating faux pas or into a situation in which he must grant a boon or lose face. Even the proudest elders accept their occasional losses in the social arena — because they have forever to turn the tables on their erstwhile victor.
Then again, sometimes one Invictus insults another by accident. For instance, one member’s childe might unwittingly hunt in another member’s domain. Graceful manners and scripted rites of contrition let both Kindred back away from the situation without looking weak. Once the insulting member acts out the proper formula of regret, the target must act out the proper formula of forgiveness. If he does not, he’s the one who looks weak — too uncertain of his power and reputation to let the insult drop.

Humanity

The last reason for Invictus etiquette remains unspoken. The stiff formality of ritual helps Invictus members act human. Elders, in particular, may have lost more of themselves to the Beast than they’d like to show. Precise rules of conduct create a mask that hides their monstrosity — from themselves, as well as other Kindred. When Invictus members no longer feel empathy for other creatures, and even the prudence of the Masquerade becomes remote, at least they know one reason why they shouldn’t rip out a convenient, tasty mortal’s throat. It’s not the right time and place for such activities, and one doesn’t make a mess when feeding.
In the same way, social rituals help elder Kindred hide the madness that so often comes from long torpors and the horrors of their own existence. A deranged vampire can at least go through the motions of courtesy and protocol even if he’s gibbering inside.

Order Against the Beast

Indeed, The Invictus as a whole functions to protect its members’ Humanity against the Beast. Wealth and power insulate Kindred from the brutality and degradation of their existence. A successful Invictus doesn’t have to stalk and overpower her prey; she can drink her blood from a snifter, and not think of the servant opening his own veins in the kitchen. She can sit in her private box and listen to the opera, instead of screams in an alley and a victim’s death-rattle when she’s lost control of her hunger. She can give money to fashionable charities, hobnob with politicians and celebrities and tell herself she’s not a monster. And when she must do something terrible, she can tell herself it isn’t her fault: it’s the rules, an obligation placed on her by her superiors or by duty. The First Estate must subject its members to the harsh winnowing of the competition for power, so that The Invictus may remain Unconquered and rule with an iron hand. Anything less would let the world slide into chaos, endangering Kindred and kine alike.

Invictus Etiquette

Titles and terms of address are not the only ways in which Invictus vampires make their opinions and aspirations known in public society. Although to outsiders the subtleties of etiquette within the covenant seem complex and layered, in truth, there are a few simple rules of communication that hold true. The basis of all public statements of The Invictus is context, and that is what renders the intentions of The Invictus opaque to all outside the covenant but crystal clear to all within. Precedence: This is a simple rule. No superior must ever be made to wait for an inferior. If a party is thrown, the most prestigious attendee should be the last to arrive. Thus, it is expected that everyone responds to an invitation to verify their attendance — so that the host knows not to let the event officially begin until the most superior guest arrives.
If everyone adheres carefully to this rule, then superior Kindred will always speak before inferiors, will always be the first served in matters of gift-giving and other procedures and will always be called upon to perform, demonstrate or act before inferiors.
Breaking this order of precedence implies a direct challenge of authority, and is an acceptable lead-in to a duel of monomacy (even if it were unintentional — but not if it were directly caused by the superior).
Gifting: Among Invictus Kindred, the giving of gifts is a remarkable statement. Any gift given, whether in public or private, may imply affection, support or deference. What is most important is that the gift demonstrates significance, effectively saying that the giftgiver believes the recipient is worthy of notice. The giving of any gift allows the recipient some small power, because she is free to refuse it. Refusal of a gift is, of course, an insult proportional to the sacrifice the gift represents. A refusal can lead to a duel, if the parties involved are hot-headed enough, or to a long-lasting animosity, if they are not.
Many Invictus vampires give small gifts of jewelry to one another as a bonding exercise, simply to acknowledge ties of blood or friendship (and to make sure that anybody who sees the exchange understands that the participants are on good terms with one another).
It is customary, upon settling a dispute in a manner that is to the satisfaction of both parties, to exchange a paltry gift as an indicator that all is well. Some Kindred insist that the signing of contracts is always followed by a trade of pens, while one South American Prince is known to require monomacy duelists to exchange gloves upon resolving their challenge.
Display: To accept a gift is one thing. To wear or display it is something entirely different and provides yet another subtle avenue of statement to the members of the covenant. Wearing an accepted gift in public implies a return of affection or support for the one who gave the gift: it essentially means that the recipient wishes to be associated with the giver. Not such a big deal in some cases, but when you’re talking about a vampire who’s making a bid for praxis (or one who is somehow scandalous), wearing a gift in public can provoke quite a reaction from those who notice.
Beyond gifts, the rule of display applies also to the self. Where one chooses to make appearances and how one positions oneself are equally important. Standing at the shoulder of another vampire indicates associative support again, while taking his arm is a declaration of affection. Facing another vampire without bowing the head indicates a formal indifference, while bowing the head is a display of subjugation.
Simply attending an event indicates support for the host. Thus, it is expected that all Invictus Kindred attend every official covenant event (unless they want to bring their loyalty into question). Even making an appearance within the bounds of another vampire’s domain can be considered a declaration of association, assuming the visit is peaceful.
Displaying a weapon carries no special significance among The Invictus. However, touching the hilt of the weapon, even lightly, indicates a wish to do battle with the vampire one is facing. Invictus Kindred who are presented with such a demonstration must either rise to the challenge or respond with a submissive gesture. Finally, displays of wealth are considered virtuous among Invictus Kindred. Ostentation can help solidify the covenant’s power base in a city, indicating a lack of fear and dangling an alluring way of unlife to the outsiders in the domain. This flaunting of material goods extends beyond human bounds, though — members of The Invictus are expected to be flush with Vitae at any public event (demonstrating the covenant’s ample Resources in more ways than one blood is often provided in ample supply at Invictus hostings.
Respect: While it cannot be expected that members of the covenant will be able to avoid dispute with one another at all times, it is never acceptable to be openly rude or crass in reference to a compatriot in any venue. Invictus Kindred are beholden to one another in bonds of respect — choosing to be a member of the covenant means accepting a responsibility to uphold its tenets and serving as a part of a greater whole. Every vampire who makes that choice deserves the esteem of both her peers and her betters.
In truth, to outsiders, the respect Invictus vampires pay to one another is one of the covenant’s most appealing features. A neonate thrust alone into the cruel world of the Requiem can find surprising solace in simple politeness.
Because of this rule, disparaging or insulting statements or demonstrations always need to be veiled from observers. Within The Invictus, it is best if one can completely humiliate one’s enemies without ever failing to show common courtesy.

Invictus Philosophy

Most members of The Invictus would say their covenant doesn’t have a philosophy. Not for them the theories and dogmas of other covenants. The First Estate does not serve some higher ideal. The covenant merely recognizes certain eternal truths about power and the world, truths that should be obvious to anyone who pays attention. The Invictus accepts the world as it is, always has been and ever shall be.
Admittedly, Invictus members often disagree on how to apply these eternal verities. In fact, some of the “eternal verities” contradict each other. Such differences seldom cause much conflict in the covenant. If two Kindred hold different beliefs and follow different practices, but both get what they want, they both must be right. A sire might encourage his childe to study both their careers. Philosophers may fret that when two people disagree, they can’t both be right, but The Invictus don’t care about ideal, abstract truth. The Invictus care about results. The First Estate claims its practices have worked for centuries. Millennia, even. And the practices shall continue to work forever — for Kindred, kine and everyone else. The powers of the First Estate’s members, and the power of the covenant as a whole, are all the proof anyone should need that The Invictus has the true path. And if the covenant isn’t powerful in a particular city — well, members say it will be, by and by.

The Essentials

The core convictions of the First Estate are easily summarized. By themselves, they require little explanation. The complications come in applying them.
The Purpose Of Power Is Power
Other covenants see power as a means to an end. The Invictus sees power as an end in itself. This, they believe, makes them Unconquered; for while other Kindred may squander their power chasing some idealistic goal, the First Estate remains focused on acquiring more influence for itself. Find another vampire’s goals, and help her to achieve them — in exchange for whatever power she can give you. She becomes less able to achieve future goals — unless she asks your help and places herself even further in your power.
The Elite Lead, The Masses Follow
Power is not for everyone. Most people lack the temperament to wield power effectively. Indeed, most people don’t have time to assume leadership. They are too busy with their own lives (or unlives) to study an issue, ponder the options and make a good decision. So why ask them to? They are better off letting professional leaders handle the Big Picture.
Sometimes, people say they want a share of power and responsibility in running society. More often than not, The Invictus says, they really mean they want assurance that their leaders will look after their interests. Pat them on the head, say you share their views and send them off to bed. Thus has it ever been, from Egyptian god-kings to corporate CEOs.
This goes for Kindred as well as kine. The Invictus accepts the responsibility to take charge and govern other Kindred. The covenant tells its members to become part of a ruling elite. A small part, perhaps: not every vampire can become Prince, own a vast corporation or become a power broker for mortal politicians. Simply by joining the First Estate, however, members place themselves above the ignorant mortal masses — and even above other vampires. The Invictus knows who’s really in control. If Invictus members have enough cunning and determination, they can become the ones in charge themselves — masters of their fate and everyone else’s, too.
Rank Has Its Privileges
This Invictus does not believe people are the same. Therefore, they should not be treated the same, and they should not act the same. Kindred are not kine. Masters are not servants. The rich are not the poor. People should not pretend these differences don’t exist or don’t matter, any more than the lion should pretend he is a lamb. The power elite follows different rules than the commoners, because the power elite are different creatures — and because they can.
But they do follow rules. The Invictus asserts privileges over other Kindred, and Invictus leaders claim privileges over other Invictus — but never a license to do whatever they want. Rank has its duties as well, and the First Estate takes its duties seriously.
Order Above All
Some believe God ordered the world. Others believe in impersonal forces of nature. Either way, the world has an order, a right and proper way of doing things. Acting in consonance with that order brings success; any deviation from that order increases the risk of failure, chaos and destruction.
The chief duty of The Invictus is to keep everything and everyone in their proper places, fulfilling their own natural or divinely ordained role. The laborer must toil, the soldier must fight, the Priest must preach, the certified public accountant must tot up figures, the kine must supply their blood to the Kindred and the Kindred must take it without letting the mortals know. And the Kindred must continue their Danse Macabre forever, never changing the steps — with The Invictus calling the tune. As is its proper place.
Tradition
The facts of power never change, because people don’t change. The hopes, fears, follies and ambitions of the kine stay the same for centuries and millennia. That’s what Invictus elders say their experience teaches. If you don’t believe them, literary members of the covenant can show you sniggering sex comedies from ancient Rome that sound just like Hollywood’s latest offerings or laments from Egyptian scribes who complain the world’s going to hell because children don’t respect their parents anymore.
Since people don’t change — and the Kindred even less so — why should anything else? The First Estate’s elders have seen too many fads come and go; too many fate-of-the-world crises become historical footnotes, too many revelations and revolutions sputter and fail. Stick to the old and established customs, they say. Traditions became traditional because they must have worked for a long time. Odds are, they still work better than some newfangled reform.
Even in small things, therefore, The Invictus values tradition for its own sake. Any innovation will probably move the world further from its proper order, not closer. Rejecting tradition is vain at best — who are you, to think you know better than everyone who came before you? — and, at worst, could end the Danse Macabre in a holocaust of anarchy.

The Patronage System

The single most important concept in Invictus philosophy, however, is patronage. The practice of patronage underlies many of the covenant’s practices. Many mortal societies have elements of patronage; so do the other covenants. The First Estate, however, consciously structures itself around the relationship of master to supplicant.
A patronage system works simply. A patron — someone with wealth and power — distributes largesse to people poorer and weaker than himself. In return, the recipients — the clients — do something to help the patron maintain and increase his wealth and power. This lets the patron distribute more largesse, and receive still more favors from his clients.
As The Invictus claims, patronage is everywhere and it’s old as the hills. In New Guinea, a “big man” invites the rest of his tribe to a feast; the respect and popularity he gains helps him acquire more livestock, so he can hold more feasts. In the Mafia, they say, “I do a favor for you, and someday you do a favor for me.” Congressmen steer government spending to their districts, and receive votes in return. Middle Eastern despots from Sargon of Akkad to Saddam Hussein granted government posts and palaces to their cronies. The feudal system that guides the First Estate’s elders was based on patronage: the king gave out grants of land and authority over the inhabitants, in return for his vassals’ pledges of loyalty and military service. Given such ancient and widespread usage, it’s no wonder The Invictus regards patronage as a law of nature.

Largesse

Rich and powerful Kindred have several forms of largesse they can offer to clients, which include the following:

• Money matters a lot more for the kine than the Kindred, but vampires are not completely disinterested in it. An Invictus who seeks influence among poorer Kindred can buy them stuff such as a car, a small building usable as a Haven or braces for a mortal granddaughter. At higher social strata, Invictus deal in financial favors such as corporate stock (the gift that keep on giving), inside information or — for politically connected patrons — tax breaks and government contracts for a client’s business.
• Hunting Territory is one of the most important commodities in Kindred society. Like medieval kings, Kindred Princes and Regents can distribute land to their followers, in the form of exclusive hunting rights to certain locations. Hunting territory might range from a particular neighborhood down to a specific nightclub. Best of all, a client can subdivide this privilege to offer largesse to other Kindred in turn: an Invictus might let another vampire prey on the mortals in a particular homeless shelter, say, or stalk her nightclub on Tuesday nights.
• Herds form a more specialized version of hunting privileges. Kindred who build a particularly large and easily exploited Herd might offer other vampires access to their blood supply in exchange for favors. For instance, an Invictus who controls a blood bank might hand out pints of O-negative to his Allies, while the Master of a blood cult can present visiting diners as subordinate gods or demons. A single easy feeding, however, isn’t much of a favor. To gain real support from a client, a patron would need to offer steady access to his Herd, such As One pint of off-thebooks blood every week or a visit to the Temple once a month.
• Titles and Offices are one of the strongest bases for patronage, and one of the most enduring. An Invictus who holds some high office in the city’s power structure can arrange a lower office for a favored hanger-on. For instance, a Priscus might appoint a favorite As One of her designated Whips; or a Regent could appoint a client as the Master of his domain’s Elysium. Princes, of course, have the greatest power to grant titles and offices. Just as importantly, they have the greatest power to remove titles, if an officeholder becomes ungrateful.
• Boons are an all-purpose form of largesse. If a vampire can’t think of anything else to offer, he can fall back on the Mafia formula of a favor for a favor. For instance, a Primogen might want a wealthy clanmate to speak out in favor of a certain policy at the next meeting of the Prince’s court. In return, he promises to do — something, later, using the power of his office. Boons are so undefined, however, that they don’t make a very good basis for a long-term relationship of patron and client. More often, they are ad hoc arrangements between Kindred.
• Subcontracting: Some Invictus accumulate ties to other Kindred and kine with useful skills and Resources. A member can offer access to these Contacts and minions as a form of largesse. If she can’t supply a particular favor herself, maybe she knows someone who can — and who owes her a favor, too. An Invictus might loan out a ghoul Retainer with special skills, ask her Contacts for information on another’s behalf, request Allies to assist a client and so on. These minions may well be other clients of The Invictus, repaying past largesse by helping their patron ensnare another minion.

Favors in Return

Clients themselves can offer many different favors in exchange for their patron’s largesse. Most simply, a vampire can let the Kindred community know he considers himself a client. Even if neither vampire holds any special office in Kindred society, the patron gains influence. Other Kindred know that if they persuade the patron to back their schemes, they win the support of her clients as well.

• Votes: Especially in cities with a strong Carthian presence, some Kindred domains have at least the appearance of democracy. In these cities, The Invictus works to build political machines straight out of Tammany Hall. Every Kindred knows The Invictus will pay for her vote, with whatever favors it can arrange. In less democratic cities, votes in the Primogen Council can still be influenced by bribes, favors and the implicit or explicit threat of retaliation from a powerful vampire’s supporters. Even the most autocratic Princes must still contend with power blocs: a Prince may rule an influential patron with a lighter hand, just because he knows the patron could cause a lot of trouble if she mobilized all her clients against him.
• Assistance: Clients may actively help with their patrons’ projects. For instance, an Invictus who wants to gentrify a crime-riddled neighborhood might mobilize all her clients to stalk the muggers, drug dealers and gangbangers until the survivors figure out they should leave. A patron building a new Haven might receive labor from clients skilled at construction and security — and, just as importantly, oaths of silence about what they have built. Invictus might also recruit clients to help members rig elections or arrange favorable business deals.
• Informants: Some Invictus seem to know everything another covenant seeks to hide. These members of the First Estate have secret clients in that covenant, who repay Invictus largesse with inside information. Such a relationship is quite dangerous for the client, since none of the covenants suffer traitors gladly. It’s not entirely safe for the patron, either: she invites retribution, which for some covenants may include dire curses straight from the Old Testament or the blackest corners of legend. The Invictus also spy on each other, of course, and try to recruit secret clients among the hangers-on of their rivals.
• Oaths: For a great boon, or a pledge of largesse indefinitely continued, a vampire might accept a long-term oath to an Invictus.

A Covenant of Clients and Patrons

Everyone in the First Estate can become a patron to someone else. Nearly every member is a client to someone else.
When Kindred think of The Invictus patronage system, they usually think of its mighty elders — the vampires who own corporations and politicians, claim high office in the Kindred’s governance and rule the night from their brooding mansions and gleaming skyscrapers. The First Estate lets all its members get in on the action, though. In fact, the First Estate demands this, if a neonate wants to gain any respect in the covenant. In The Invictus, even a neonate can control impressive financial or political assets carried over from life; such assets are important reasons for selecting childer. Therefore, even a neonate may wield enough power to cultivate less fortunate vampires as clients. Neonates in other covenants (or unaligned) may feel reluctant to ask the great lords of The Invictus for help. A fellow neonate seems safer. These neonates or unaligned forget that the nice Kindred who seems so understanding, who shares their desire to stay free from the Masters of the Night, fully intends to become a Master of the Night herself.
The Invictus recognizes that its younger members are well placed to recruit clients in other covenants. So what if these unwary clients are mere neonates themselves? In another hundred years or so, they can gain great power in their own covenants — with Invictus help, binding them to the First Estate’s interests.
A neonate may lack anything other Kindred want — but even without money or political influence, she has great power compared to mortals. For one thing, she has Disciplines, enabling her to perform amazing feats. Does a mortal client have trouble convincing a potential investor in his business? His “friend” can swing the deal using Dominate or Majesty. Animalism, Auspex and Obfuscate all have their uses in ferreting out secrets a mortal might wish to know. Nightmare can warn away a mortal’s enemies; if warning fails, the physical Disciplines can deliver a less subtle rebuke. A neonate’s Disciplines may be feeble compared to an elder’s, but to a mortal she can seem like a miracle worker. Though she’d better not seem too miraculous, for the sake of the Masquerade . . . .
Any vampire also has the blood itself and its power to transform a mortal into a ghoul. This is the cruelest sort of patronage. The blood offers immortality to humans — but delivers slavery. Nevertheless, some mortals would trade their freedom for the bounty of a vampire’s veins. A desperate mortal might also serve an undead patron in hopes the blood can save a loved one’s life.
Over the decades, a diligent Invictus can cultivate such minor clients and exploit them to increase her own wealth and power. By the time she’s an ancilla, she can offer greater largesse to a wider range of potential clients. She might recruit a number of neonates as permanent clients. Older clients, now ancillae themselves, may now be bound to her by oaths, blackmail or sheer dependence on her aid.
The Invictus member also has enough power for the First Estate’s elders to cultivate her as a client. By serving their interests, she may win more power for herself. For instance, her patron might help her claim some minor office such as Harpy, Whip or Master of an Elysium. Her connection to mightier Kindred itself becomes a resource she can offer to her own clients. As the lower nobility of The Invictus, ancillae serve as all-purpose middlemen for the covenant.
The covenant’s elders form the apex of the patronage system. Their financial, political and supernatural Resources are so great they can give a client almost anything, either by themselves or using their minions. On top of that, an elder might possess some high office in Kindred society, which allows her to achieve many goals by her mere command. An Invictus elder’s list of clients can include ancillae in the First Estate (and probably other covenants as well) and a variety of mortals in business, government, the civil service, crime, academia or any other field that catches her interest. Other elders owe her favors, too. Her clients in the First Estate have clients of their own, extending her Web of influence even further. A powerful and respected elder in the covenant may be able to mobilize dozens of Kindred if she wants, and her reach in the mortal world defies calculation.

Honor, Respect, and Reputation

The patronage system would fall apart without trust between its participants. Clients must trust that their patrons will grant the favors they promise. Patrons must trust their clients to show loyalty and perform services in return. Both sides must believe that betraying trust will bring swift retribution. Modern mortals have all the machinery of law and government to enforce their contracts; the undead, alas, cannot take the Daeva Primogen to court for breaking his promise to award hunting rights at the latest rave.
So, reputation matters a great deal to The Invictus. The mortal world codifies reputation as credit reports, criminal records (or their lack), resumés and other documents. The Kindred use older terms such as honor and face. No vampire can ever completely trust another, but the First Estate consciously tries to discourage treachery among its members.

My Word is my Bond

Willful and blatant betrayal of trust can wreck a Kindred’s standing in the First Estate, or at least make any business more difficult. A vampire who welshes on one deal might default on others, too, so any agreement becomes riskier. Other Kindred demand greater rewards to compensate for that risk. Where once a Kindred’s mere word was surety enough in a deal, other Invictus now demand payment in advance, oaths backed by supernatural sanctions or even Ghouls and childer held hostage. A trusted Invictus might satisfy his clients with minor favors such as hunting rights at a porno theater, a few dozen shares in a decent mutual fund or 15 minutes with a Primogen Councilor. A distrusted member might need to offer hunting rights in his entire domain, a thousand shares of blue-chip stock and half an hour with the Prince. The betrayer must also fulfill many pledges before The Invictus trusts him again, for the undead have long memories indeed.
Lesser breaches of trust don’t cause such catastrophic loss of prestige. Most Invictus are rational enough to accept that, sometimes, Kindred fail through circumstances beyond their control. If you promise to deliver a certain cargo and the supplier flakes out or some nutter from Belial’s Brood burns down your warehouse, it isn’t your fault.
Except it is. Why didn’t you pick a more reliable supplier? Why didn’t you invest in some guards? Why didn’t you find a replacement cargo before the delivery date? Any failure, for any reason, shows the limitations of your power, your foresight and your determination to see things done. Potential clients and patrons wonder if they could do better by making a deal with someone else.
As a result, members of the First Estate treat every promise seriously. Even a promise to show up at a certain time becomes an implicit test of your abilities and honor: being late shows you didn’t plan or you didn’t care. Whereas modern mortals might brush off being half an hour late to a meeting, the lords of the night see an insult or incompetence.
For this reason, canny Invictus members don’t give their word lightly. Invictus members sometimes seem pompous and lawyerly to other Kindred, insisting on spelling out every agreement in detail — with weaselly escape clauses like “as it please the Prince.” (The Carthians particularly enjoy pointing out the First Estate’s evasions.) Invictus members do this because they don’t want to be trapped in a commitment they cannot fulfill.
When Invictus do give their word, they can make amazing efforts to keep their promises. Childer and other new recruits hear stories of Invictus who overcame incredible obstacles to fulfill a pledge. Elders tell of the neonate who ran through sunlight and burned to ash to deliver his sire’s reply to the Prince before a sunset deadline, and the Knight who fought a pack of werewolves because they came between him and a flower he’d promised his lady. On a less romantic level, Invictus businessmen may squander 10 times what a damaged cargo is worth to replace it, or a First Estate political operative might call in a dozen favors to protect a neonate client’s Haven from demolition. Invictus think the cost matters less than the reputation they gain. The mighty see a potential client they can trust to fulfill their commands; the lowly see a potential patron they can trust to take care of them.

Conflicting Duties

When members of the First Estate achieve some office in Kindred society, they approach their job with zeal. After all, they accepted a pledge to perform certain duties. The Invictus expects them to keep that pledge; they would lose face if they did not.
That’s not a problem when The Invictus dominates Kindred society and governance. For instance, conflicts of interest seldom arise for an Invictus assistant to an Invictus Priscus in a city where most of the clan belongs to The Invictus. Office-holders may face awkward choices when the First Estate lacks such dominance. That Invictus assistant, for instance, has two responsibilities: as a helper to her Priscus, she has a duty to look after her clan’s interests, but as a member of the First Estate, she should look out for the covenant’s interests. If most of her clan belongs to other covenants, her duties may conflict — and The Invictus will not let her off the hook by saying, “Hang your clanmates; you work for us.” If she undercuts her Priscus and her clan, it wouldn’t matter what benefits she brought to the First Estate. She’d still develop a reputation as a weasel no one should trust. The covenant’s leaders might reward her with money, hunting privileges or other tangible rewards, but not with prestige and honor.

Fine Words, False Hearts

Of course, not all Invictus keep their honor pure or demand high standards from the rest of their covenant. The First Estate speaks of honor so much because the Damned have so little. Frenzy, Wassail and Rötschreck can overpower the strongest wills, leading to breaches of honor and the respect due between client and patron. Vices tempt the Damned with selfish passions. All too many Invictus decide it’s too hard actually to be honorable; it’s easier just to look honorable, and conceal your failures and treacheries.
And rank does have its privileges. The First Estate’s belief that all Kindred are not equal means that members with low Status may be judged more harshly than those who’ve accumulated great power and prestige. It isn’t fair; it isn’t supposed to be.
Shifting Blame
One common strategy is to find a scapegoat — some poor schlub you can blame for failure. “I trusted him to do his part for my plan,” goes the standard script, “and he failed my trust. I can’t keep my word because of his incompetence.” You still suffer a little loss of face for relying on someone you should not have, but most of the onus goes on the scapegoat.
Neonates are, unfortunately, excellent candidates for scapegoats. They often Haven’t proven themselves through enough previous challenges. Their eagerness to make connections and gain patrons makes them take risks older Kindred know how to recognize and avoid — especially the risks of pledging their own honor to someone else’s plan.
Suppose a coterie of neonates agree to serve as couriers, making a one-night journey to return a sacred relic to a neighboring city’s Acolytes. It seems like an easy bit of errantry. They might not recognize that their cargo as a werewolf fetish, that their journey takes them across werewolf territory and that the ancilla who recruited them has an old grudge against the Acolytes and would like to see the powerful relic lost. After the neonates have publicly assured a local Circle of The Crone coven that they will see the relic safely home to its owners, the ancilla won’t take the blame if the neonates vanish without a trace. If the coterie succeeds, the ancilla looks good for recruiting them.
As the example suggests, cunning Invictus may even pre-select clients for failure. The Invictus not only have a scapegoat, they can make a conscious betrayal of trust look like someone else’s failure. Even if the neonates survive, who will the other Invictus believe: some new-fledged childer or one of their own, who has proven himself in the past? A scapegoating or frame-up might not need to be very subtle or convincing, either, if The Invictus has great power or influence over other covenant members. Sometimes the largesse of patrons, and the service of clients, consists of accepting each other’s lies and hiding each other’s shames.
Weaseling Out
Another strategy is to claim you never made a pledge in the first place. Wrap any statement in enough gauzy generalities and florid rhetoric, and you can weasel out later. You could claim you never said you would silence that nosy private eye — only that someone ought to do it. Or you never said when you would do it. Or you didn’t say you would do it personally, and your agents are on the case. A skilled Invictus rhetorician can seem to promise everything to everyone, while actually saying nothing at all. Other Invictus who see through the goo and dribble may at least admire the technique. After all, they’ve probably weaseled out of a few promises themselves.
Counterattack
As any politician knows, no one pays attention to your own failings if they’re angry about someone else. In this strategy, you don’t refute a charge of breaking a trust — you don’t even acknowledge it, because you’re too busy whipping up outrage against some other Kindred. You can accuse your accuser of having a vendetta against you, of some dark agenda (probably true among the Damned, even if it’s irrelevant to the case at hand), of disloyalty to the covenant — or, of course, of trying to throw attention onto you to cover up his own crimes and failings.
Sometimes, however, you don’t want to attack the person holding you to account. When the Prince asks you why you didn’t return the Acolyte’s relic, reviling the Prince as a traitor to The Invictus just isn’t prudent. Instead, you say how awful someone else is. For instance, you might deliver a stirring speech asking the assembled Kindred why they’re making such a fuss over Circle of The Crone property, when everyone knows those Damned Acolytes are crazed fanatics who worship foul forces from beyond and call them forth to pollute the world, and Longinus only knows what vile purpose they intended with their precious relic. The First Estate should thank you for getting rid of it!
Pre-emptive Contrition
Some Invictus think it’s best to accept blame for failure or a breach of promise — spectacularly. Revile yourself and proclaim your grief at your own incapacity. Tear your clothes. Demand punishment with fire or the lash. Offer some extravagant payment as part of your penance. If you’re lucky, your overblown contrition will embarrass your fellow Invictus into muttering that your fault wasn’t that bad, and what if someone from another covenant saw you making a scene? On the other hand, turning into a drama queen may irritate other Invictus or whet their appetite to watch your pain, leaving you worse off than before. As usual, your own power and prestige influences the audience response (and so does your dramatic technique).
Directing your fellow Invictus’ minds toward torture isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. If you show you can take pain, at least you win back some respect for your courage — a prime aristocratic virtue.

Deference

In a patronage system, clients need more than assurance of their patron’s sincerity. They also need to know their patron has the power to back up her promises. One result is that insults demand retribution. If a client sees his patron swallow some shame or insult, he has to wonder how much power the patron really has. Maybe the patron is generous of spirit, self-controlled or too wellmannered to acknowledge an insult — or maybe she can’t punish the person who gave offense. In that case, does she have the power to fulfill her commitments? Maybe the client had better hedge his bets by looking for other potential patrons, such as the person who delivered the insult. Since the First Estate lacks any outside authority to enforce its patronage system, the covenant’s members take gestures of respect and disrespect seriously, and smack down anyone who fails to show proper respect.

Obedience

Most obviously, the covenant demands strict obedience to its chains of command. Invictus members have no patience for mavericks and loose cannons. Sass your sire, and he may have your mouth sewn shut until you learn when you may open it. Blow off a command from an Inner Circle member, and you have made a dangerous enemy for the rest of your unlife — which might not be that long. The Invictus punishes failure, but not nearly so severely as it punishes willful disobedience.
The burden of obedience falls most heavily on the lower ranks of the covenant, but Invictus elders remind neonates that they, too, are lords of the night. Younger members must insist upon respect and obedience from their own juniors and minions. For instance, a neonate is as a Prince to her ghoul Retainer. She has a right to demand obedience to every command. A young domitor who shows too much forgiveness or tolerance may find herself called on the carpet by her sire — or someone even higher in the First Estate — to receive a lecture about Maintaining Proper Discipline. Failure to perform small tasks promptly may not seem important, but if small acts of disobedience do not receive immediate punishment, servants grow bolder and attempt larger acts of defiance. Every Invictus elder can tell stories about indulgent masters who ended up destroyed by their ungrateful servants.
Of course, not every senior Invictus has the right to command any service from all younger members of the covenant. The First Estate carefully notes that only the Prince has authority over all Kindred. Sometimes, a neonate has the right to refuse an order. For instance, Invictus tradition holds that even an Inner Circle member has no right to ask a childe to disobey her sire.
Then again, it may be prudent to obey such powerful Kindred, whether they have the right to give an order or not.

Retribution

Like other Kindred, Invictus have many options to punish insubordination and insults. Members of the highest ranks can use their official powers to chastise Kindred who offend them. A Prince, for instance, can send the Sheriff or his Hound to teach a lesson in manners. Other influential Kindred may “borrow” such officers, at the Prince’s pleasure. Most Invictus, however, know they must deliver their own punishments. Aside from the fact that few Invictus have the right to order a “hit” (or even just a roughing-up), honor demands they be seen dealing with the situation themselves. They must reassure clients of their power and determination — and their enemies, even more so.
Monomacy is the ultimate recourse for an aggrieved Invictus. Not every duel is to the Final Death or Torpor, of course; it’s usually enough to show that you could slay your foe. At the other extreme, an acid remark that sets other Invictus smiling is often sufficient retribution for minor social snubs. Sometimes, though, you have to hurt a Kindred who insulted you, but in such a way you don’t risk your own unlife. Popular methods include the following:

• Destruction of Property. Now and then, buildings catch fire, gas mains explode or drug-crazed gangbangers hold their turf battle right outside and shoot the place up. Then you send your condolences to the owner who insulted you. Express concern that the same thing could happen to his Haven. The Message is clear.
• Threaten Mortals. Mortals are so much more fragile than Kindred. Accidents could happen so easily to a pet city councilman or corporate VP — or a mortal granddaughter. Actual murder is seldom necessary. It’s usually enough to show you can get to mortals your enemy considers important. The young mortal relative picked up after school or in a bar, and then delivered home unharmed, is a classic approach. A Mekhet tycoon in London, on the other hand, prefers origami cranes that appear in the bedrooms of his enemies’ mortal servants. For more severe offenses, though, some Invictus still go straight to shooting, maiming or “disappearing” an enemy’s mortal Allies.
• Humiliation. Make your enemy look foolish. This doesn’t mean Dominating your enemy into clucking like a chicken; you will only embarrass yourself with such crude pranks. If you can Dominate him into pinning his own hand to the table with a Knife or use Nightmare to make him flee the room, you assert your greater power in a way no one can Ignore. Kindred without suitable Disciplines can still attempt social sabotage, such as replacing healthy young vessels at the enemy’s blood feast with diseased or otherwise inferior stock.

Vendetta

Retribution for insults and injuries has an unfortunate consequence: the target seldom accepts the justice of the punishment. In fact, in a society in which respect is everything, he can’t let the punishment pass. If he does, he looks weak and endangers his own network of patronage. So, the vampire who delivered the first insult responds to retribution by taking his own revenge. The original aggrieved party must punish that, too. The cycle tends to escalate, as each vampire responds with some fiercer attack to force his enemy to back down. Before long, no apology could ever suffice. They must continue until one destroys the other. Vendettas also easily spread, as the participants draw upon their Allies, clients and patrons for assistance.
Princes rightly fear vendettas almost as much as they fear usurpers. Kindred communities have been torn apart because two well-connected Invictus got in a snit. Few Princes wield sufficient power that they can simply command feuding vampires to stop. Most of the time, the Princes settle for driving the vendetta into hiding, slowing it down and limiting its spread. Now and then, Princes respond by exiling whichever participant offers the least political advantage. Vampires seldom leave their cities willingly, so such exiles account for a surprisingly large proportion of Invictus emigrants.

Domain Politics

The charms of the Requiem may be myriad and plentiful, but the first among them — to The Invictus way of thinking, at least — is politics. Getting along, getting ahead, accruing and spending political capital and acquiring power are the nightly pastimes for First Estate Kindred.
The Invictus is concerned with control and order among the Kindred, and if true order cannot be attained, then at least the appearance of order must be maintained. If even that falls by the wayside, then the First Estate is likely to take extreme action to bring about a more orderly state of affairs.
The nightly goal among many Invictus members is to impact Kindred society in accordance with their wills without giving the impression of having done anything. The subtler course of action is the better course of action as far as the First Estate is concerned. Many Invictus Kindred have been known to feign ignorance even when a long-held goal of theirs is finally achieved, making it all but impossible to tell who is involved in what conspiracy.

Doing Business

Across the globe, the Kindred of The Invictus use the same general tools and techniques to conduct their business in domain after domain, usually with only minor regional variations. No discussion of the covenant would be complete without a look at the strategies that have kept it in power for all these centuries. Following is a catalogue of the basic building blocks upon which the First Estate’s empire is built.

Hierarchy

From the perspective of the First Estate, there is no question regarding how interpersonal interactions should be carried out between members of the covenant. That’s the purpose of The Invictus’ tightly held social order: every Kindred should know exactly where she stands in the scheme of Kindred society. That takes the uncertainty out of interactions and provides all members of the First Estate with a framework for all interactions with other Kindred. When one swears an oath to The Invictus, one is agreeing to abide by the covenant’s hierarchy (and all that is entailed thereby).
In some domains, this hierarchy is so highly formalized that every member of The Invictus is quietly assigned a number that refers to her position in the organization. The Prince is always number one, and any Kindred occupying the role of Judex is automatically number two so long she is carrying out the duties of that position; after that, the numbering goes down through the Primogen, Prisci and other key positions until arriving at the highest numbered Kindred, usually a neonate or a member of the covenant who has brought disgrace upon himself in one way or another. The higher the number, the closer the Kindred is to the bottom of the heap. A Kindred’s number will also reflect her standing in her coterie, whether she is Primus, Secundus or so on. (See “The Privileges of Rank” sidebar on p. 100 of Coteries for more on this ranking system).
This hierarchy of the First Estate is always in effect, but is hardly static. As Kindred meet Final Death, fall into eclipse, prove (or embarrass) themselves and so on, the hierarchy is always churning. Predictably, more churning takes place near the bottom than near the top, but there’s a modicum of turnover even at the top. Members of dynastic Houses, incidentally, are all treated as a single unit and share a single rung on The Invictus ladder; the standing of the House is the standing of all its members.
Those Invictus occupying a higher station in the hierarchy are deferred to; those Invictus occupying lesser stations may be assigned tasks or commanded to perform deeds on behalf of the First Estate. A commonplace phrase often heard in domains controlled by the First Estate is “respectful deference is a sign of upward mobility.” Some members of the covenant believe this, some don’t, but all abide by it, lest it prove to be true so far as they’re concerned.

Delegation

One of the advantages of The Invictus’ strict attention to hierarchy is the ability to delegate responsibility to those Kindred lower in the organizational ranks. The Prince doesn’t have enough time in her nights to provide personal attention to every last problem that needs solving. Since she’s the Prince, however, she can assign a task to a Primogen or other lower-ranking member of the city and expect her will to be carried out; likewise, the Judex can request a “favor” of the Sheriff and expect it to be granted.
The types of tasks that a Kindred can delegate vary by domain and Status, but, in general, the higher up the ladder the individual is, the more demanding favors he can ask. The Prince, of course, can ask anything of any other member of the First Estate. Others, technically, can ask anything of any vampire further down The Invictus hierarchy, but the further one is down the ladder, the more likely the request is to get lost or forgotten, especially if the Kindred of whom the favor was asked is relatively near the requesting Kindred on the hierarchy.
Rivalry
The closer two Kindred are in the hierarchy — especially if they’re both relatively near the bottom — the more competitive they’re likely to be, and the more competitive the covenant expects them to be. Elders are notorious for subtly pitting two Kindred against one another as a means of seeing which one will advance in the First Estate and which one will fall by the wayside. The elders look not only at the degree of ambition this rivalry reveals but also at the degree of strategy and Common Sense. Ambition is a high virtue as far as the elders are concerned, but if ambition drives a Kindred to acts of blatant, tactless aggression, that individual is clearly not ready for promotion (and may, in fact, be demoted or otherwise penalized).

Money

For some members of the First Estate, especially elders, wealth is a given. One’s standing in the covenant is affected by how much wealth one commands. Two Primogen may share the same rank and have as many years in the Requiem, but the one with the more money will have the higher ranking in The Invictus hierarchy. In some cases, extreme disparities of wealth can create an inversion of the covenant’s usual ranking system. In the traditional Invictus hierarchy, for example, the Harpy outranks the Keeper of Elysium. If the Keeper of Elysium has notably more money than the Harpy, however, then it’s possible that the Keeper of Elysium might enjoy a higher standing in the covenant (although that’s likely to earn the unmitigated hatred of the Harpy, but that’s par for the course).
The only exception to this rule is the Judex, who is always number two, whether she has an empire worth billions or is bankrupt. That said, a Judex who does not have her own fortune might likely be considered too easily bought, and therefore unfit for the position.
Money is key in the First Estate because of the influence that money represents and the needs it can satisfy. A member of The Invictus who aspires to municipal influence needs wealth to bribe politicians, pay corporate attorneys, buy witnesses, hire thugs and entertain powerful figures in the manner to which they’ve become accustomed. None of these come cheap. The Invictus isn’t interested in money for its own sake (as common Kindred sometimes allege), but for the power and security that money can buy.

CYA

“Cover Your Ass” is among the foremost philosophies of The Invictus. Plausible deniability should be built into every plan, plot and machination carried out by Invictus members. If any plan has even the slightest chance of gaining the unfavorable notice of another Kindred, the standard Invictus protocol is to have a way out or a plausible means of denying responsibility. Many times, when a member of the First Estate suffers punishment by a sire or Mentor, it’s not so much for committing the offending act in the first place as for getting caught and not having cultivated the appropriate plausible deniability.

Mortal Influence

The Invictus understands how to wield mortal influence in ways that other covenants, even the mortal-savvy Carthians do not. While that latter covenant may have numerous ties to the mortal world, The Invictus has the advantage of money — old money and lots of it — with which to back up the covenant’s interactions with mortals. Every First Estate Kindred is likely to have connections to a variety of the domain’s sectors, communities and subcultures through which she can subtly work her will in the mortal world. The power wielded collectively by a city’s Invictus Kindred is astonishing and terrifying, not just for the breadth of communities it covers, but for the depth to which it penetrates the institutions of the mortal world.
Cultivating this degree of influence is not simply a matter of using a quick Discipline or flashing a roll of 100-dollar bills, however. Finding good pawns is a lengthy, time-intensive process that, when done right, pays amazing dividends in controlling a mortal realm.
Choosing an Influence Sector
The hardest decision many members of the First Estate make is where and how they want to establish themselves in the mortal world. Common wisdom states that the power and appeal of an influence sector are inversely related: the more inherently enjoyable forms of influence (nightlife or high society, for example) have only limited use, while the more powerful types of influence (banks, politics, churches) are harder to cultivate and often quite tedious to stay on top of. Patience, determination and ambition all typically play a part in where a Kindred establishes himself and how much utility he’s able to gain from his Contacts.
Within the First Estate, all mortal influence is good, although those Kindred who forego gratification for power are often seen as more likely candidates for advancement than those who do otherwise.
Finding the Perfect Pawn
Not all mortals are well suited to serving Kindred masters; choosing good pawns is considered something of an art form within The Invictus.
Every Kindred wants pawns sitting on the top of the power structure: mayors, deans and CEOs, but the fact is that that’s simply not feasible. Not only are those figures the most aggressively vied for among the First Estate, but many of them (politicians in particular) are dangerously high profile and, therefore, exceedingly risky if a Masquerade breach should take place.
First Meetings
Once a Kindred has determined where in the great Web of influence he wants his Contacts, it’s time to make the meetings come to pass. Obviously, more socially adept Kindred have the advantage in this regard: the Daeva, in particular, have a serious advantage with regard to gaining new pawns. Other clans may find this a little harder, particularly with more highly placed mortals. A Kindred doesn’t just walk into the mayor’s home and ask for a few moments of privacy.
One way of getting around this difficulty is to have lower-level pawns introduce the Kindred to better-placed individuals (“Sebastian, I’d like you to meet my boss, Jane Randolph. She works with the mayor . . . ”) or leverage one kind of mortal influence to gain a pawn in a new area. (A Daeva with a great deal of control over the local media would likely be able to arrange a meeting with key members of the law enforcement or political communities, for example.)
Advancing the Pawn
Every Kindred in the city wants all of the highestranking and most powerful pawns, but the reality of the situation is that that is simply not going to happen. There’s far too much competition for well-placed mortals for one vampire to monopolize more than one or two such individuals. A more sensible, and much more widely practiced tactic, is to take an ambitious mid-level contact, develop his talents a bit (possibly by making him a ghoul) and arrange for his advancement through his organization.
Any Kindred who doesn’t push his pawns to develop their talents beyond what they were when he took them on is missing out on an extraordinary opportunity. While it may be beneficial to have a well-connected reporter in one’s “stable,” it’s even better to have a station manager or editor-in-chief. There’s little reason not to nudge circumstances in that direction through strategic brokering of influence or by assisting fate here and there: compromising the pawn’s competition through strategic uses of Dominate, for example, or arranging a heart attack through the use of Nightmare.
Real-estate speculators do this by buying inexpensive “fixer-uppers,” refurbishing them and then selling them for several times what they paid for them. Kindred wanting highly placed Contacts apply the same strategy: find an ambitious and talented mid-level agent in the area one wants to move into, offer some career assistance in exchange for future loyalty and, if she accepts, make some phone calls to some powerful friends and start the ball rolling on the individual’s expedited career.
Not only is this approach much more subtle than simply assuming control of an influential mortal, but it creates a degree of loyalty to the Kindred “facilitator” that is hard to get without resorting to The Vinculum.
The city’s Catholic Archbishop may be out of reach, but a well-positioned Priest may be more accessible, and should the Archbishop’s brakes fail at an inopportune moment, then the Kindred gets what he wanted anyway . . . .
Some sectors have a higher turnover rate than others. A vampire may find that gang leaders and street-level Contacts move up the chain faster than civil servants, for example.
This pawn cultivation technique is slow and only works well for patient Kindred, but that describes nearly all members of the First Estate. These kinds of tactics can take years, and even decades in some instances, but if there’s anything Kindred have to spare, it’s time, especially if the Kindred is rewarded with a high-level pawn in the end.
Given how long it takes to advance through The Invictus ranks anyway, most members of the First Estate are likely to find that their mortal Contacts have made it to the top of the heap before the Kindred has.
Rewarding the Pawn
Nothing is more crucial when dealing with mortal pawns than understanding what motivates them. A thrall who has carried out an important task should always be rewarded: Ghouls will want blood, of course. A well-fed ghoul is a loyal ghoul, but a hungry ghoul is a walking betrayal waiting to happen. Other pawns, however, may want money, attention or any of a wide range of other rewards.
Increasing the pawn’s power or prestige is an old and popular form of showing a pawn the value of his services. If he has served well thus far, give him more power: more money, VIP Status at the city’s hottest nightclub, another thug to order around, better weapons and so on. Appealing to a mortal’s ego or sense of self-importance is an effective and relatively simple technique for ensuring loyalty.

The Dangers of the Breach

Over the centuries, The Invictus has learned some painful lessons about dealing with high-profile mortals, and the common wisdom is that the risks to the Masquerade, especially in the modern world, are rarely worth the benefits.
The fact of the matter is that every mortal pawn is capable of bringing exposure to the Kindred through one means or another, and there exists an inverse relationship between the stature of the mortal and the willingness of a responsible Kindred to turn her into a pawn. Put another way, the more scrutiny a pawn is likely to get, the less likely a vampire is to choose her as a pawn.
History has shown that any pawn, however carefully hid, can be exposed. The more valuable and effective a mortal pawn, the more likely another Kindred is going to want to either usurp or destroy that individual. Mortals wake up and take notice when, for example, three mayors in a row die under mysterious circumstances within a year of taking office or when media moguls issue blanket statements not to cover certain kinds of stories or when police corruption becomes so blatant that it’s impossible to Ignore.
In the modern age of instant trans-global communication, that kind of notice must be avoided at all cost; consequently, the First Estate limits itself to more strategic but less highly placed pawns: not the mayor but the mayor’s closest advisor, not the media mogul but the media mogul’s wife and son and not the police commissioner but a selection of other high-ranking police officers.
Cultivating less highly placed pawns weakens the First Estate’s hold on the mortal world, a fact of which The Invictus is painfully aware, but as the covenant responsible for order and defense of The Traditions among the Kindred, there’s really no other way to maintain the necessary degree of subtlety. Any other arrangement, while incredibly tempting, is an invitation to disaster.

The Invictus Ascendant

When a city’s Kindred policy-makers are predominantly from The Invictus (and they often are), the Kindred of that city are likely to benefit through a number of the First Estate’s policies — and suffer from others.
The Invictus takes nothing so seriously as order among the Kindred, and cities The Invictus controls (or even those in which The Invictus simply have a notable presence) even feel different from cities under the control of another covenant: safer, but somewhat oppressive and paranoid. Younger vampires are kept tightly reigned in by sires, mentors and the like. Competition for feeding rights and Status keep Kindred in line.
There is sometimes a feeling in Invictus-heavy cities that elders, regardless of their covenant affiliation, are all connected by a bond of age and mutual understanding. Mortals may think they’ve got problems with cronyism, but they’ve got nothing on centuries-old Kindred who’ve had decades to refine their “old-boy network.” For their part, neonates and younger ancillae in such cities may feel that they’re getting shafted, as all the lowliest tasks and offices fall to them while the elders have the habit of meeting incessantly behind closed doors with a handful of toadies and beautiful blood dolls running on empty.

Invictus-only Cities

Not all domains play host to the full Darwinian petri dish ensemble of Kindred covenants. In some cities, The Invictus has leveraged its standing to undermine all other covenants and either force them out or prevent them from establishing a presence in the first place. In those domains, if a vampire who is aligned with any other covenant enters the domain, he has three choices: leave, convert or watch the sun rise. The Invictus takes these bastions of its power very seriously.
The First Estate is quite proud of being self-contained. It created the roles and titles that are in use in nearly every Kindred domain in the Western world, and the First Estate certainly doesn’t need input from other covenants. In fact, it would rather not have any.
Invictus-only cities tend to be tranquil, moderately repressive domains where disruptions of the Masquerade are particularly rare and the political intrigue is so thick as to be suffocating. In these domains, the constant power struggles among Kindred play themselves out through coldly calculated, lengthily plotted conspiracies that are byzantine enough to shock Machiavelli himself.
The one challenge that can nudge one of these cities out of its nightly games of intrigue is the arrival of Kindred of another covenant, who will be met with a frigid welcome and told their options. The Invictus does not care to share its games with others, and all activities of the First Estate come to a halt until the interloper is dealt with.

Just Like Old Times . . .

A handful of cities exist around the globe in which The Invictus and The Lancea Sanctum control the domains by themselves. Both covenants are predisposed to revere the past and the glories of the Camarilla, although such cities are less likely to recall the grandeur of the Camarilla and more likely constantly feud over the role of “church” and “state” in Kindred politics.
Still, these two covenants exhibit more compatibilities than any two other covenants. The drawback is that these two most conservative covenants frequently establish a Kindred culture that is so repressive as to be intolerable. Invictus-only cities are bad enough, but with the addition of the Sanctified’s religious strictures and dogma, the resulting culture is often hostile to all but the most doctrinaire Kindred.
Such strict cities are known to exist here and there throughout Europe, particularly in Eastern Europe, but American Kindred have not shown much interest in such repressive arrangements.

The Invictus Prince

Upping that ante just a little bit more is the situation in which the Prince herself is a member of the First Estate. As much as Kindred from other covenants may hate to admit it, unlife under an Invictus Prince is generally quite orderly and relatively safe for the city’s Kindred. Whatever else The Invictus Princes may be, they have a reputation (deserved or not) for being fair. There can be no society of the Damned if there are no laws or if those laws are not enforced with some degree of even-handedness. Elders certainly get a modicum of preferential treatment, but that’s because they know the rules well enough that they’re allowed to break them judiciously. That said, even an Invictus elder will feel the full wrath of the Prince if he does something truly, egregiously stupid (like break the Masquerade in front of a gaggle of reporters).
Those who break the rules, obviously, must be made examples of, but those who know their places and stick to them will find a degree of safety unattainable in cities not controlled by the First Estate.
That said, the city is safe because the sentences for dissent or rash behavior are almost uniformly ghastly. The punishments meted out by the Princes of the First Estate to those who would challenge the Status quo are legendary for the cruelty every bit as much as for the relative fairness.
Invictus Princes are great proponents of civility. Civility, in their eyes, is the foundation of a long, orderly Requiem. But if civility should fail, as it often does among vampires, then tyranny is a terribly popular “Plan B.” Some cities — notably those where civility is in short supply — basically function under the Kindred equivalent of martial law, with the Prince carrying out his will through a motley assortment of Hounds, Sheriffs, deputies and whatever other “law enforcement” he feels he needs. First Estate Princes see to it that every Kindred in the city knows his or her place; those who adhere to their places and keep their heads down pass their Requiems blissfully unnoticed. On the other hand, those Kindred who act outside their standing, especially if they do so wantonly or repeatedly, suffer the consequences.
Elder Status in such a city is respected. The Prince certainly treats other elders with a great deal of deference even as he makes the Requiem harsh for neonates and impudent ancillae.

Court Life

Unlife within The Invictus can be (and often has been) described as an ongoing waltz of courtiers, all with daggers that they just can’t wait to plunge into each other’s backs.
Or at least that’s the impression other covenants have of the First Estate. While the court life The Invictus aspires to has a certain hint of these sorts of ongoing rivalries, the covenant’s emphasis on law and order often trumps all other concerns.
Following are some of the courtly elements widely seen in Invictus domains:
Flattery
The First Estate’s pecking order is at the core of the entire covenant. In the eyes of The Invictus, there can be no order without hierarchy. Kindred, however, are inherently corrupt creatures; the Beast undermines systems by its very nature. Flattery is a common corruption of the hierarchy in the First Estate.
Secrets
Secrets are the preferred coin of the realm in Invictus cities. Quiet scandals and hushed rumors are second only to Vitae in the appetites of First Estate Kindred. In part, this is due to the fact that secrets represent power. The more an individual has to lose, the more powerful the threat of blackmail. An Invictus elder, then, for all her power, can find herself plummeting down the hierarchy if someone digs up some good dirt on her — an instance of Diablerie, for example, or a conspiracy against the Prince.
Harpies are particularly adept at ferreting out this kind of damning information, but that blade cuts both ways: most elders with dangerous secrets make a point of securing blackmail evidence on the Harpy as well, just to be on the safe side.
For this reason, a Harpy with nothing to hide is both more effective in his position and, in many cases, considered a danger to elders.
Commerce
Commerce is a concern within the First Estate. It is the method Kindred use to build their fortunes and is also the force that nudges the hyper-conservative members of The Invictus to interact with those they would rather not.
Being among the most worldly of the covenants (a distinction they vie for with the Carthians), the First Estate is deeply interested in advancing its cause, particularly its fortunes in the mortal world. As money seems to have the power to motivate mortals to do just about anything, most Invictus members make a point of having a great deal of it. They don’t like money for its own sake, they like it for what it gets them: servants, flatterers, cat’s-paws, politicians, hitmen and the like don’t come cheap.
In most banking and monetary systems, particularly in the modern West, money accrues over time, and ifthere’s one thing the Kindred have, it’s time. Members of The Invictus make sure they use that particular advantage to its fullest. Investments, particularly those paying compound interest, can turn even a modest sum into a fortune in the space of 50 years — less than the duration of most First Estate “apprenticeships.” After 100 years of strategic investment, most members of The Invictus have a greater monthly cash flow than Kindred of other covenants see in the space of a year. And Invictus members know how to wield their money. They know how to buy mortals. Human greed is conveniently commonplace for these Kindred, and one they learn to exploit. The less money a mortal has, the more he can be counted on to do in order to get it. The Invictus loves desperation; it’s one of their more insidious tools.
One method by which The Invictus furthers its agenda is through the buying, selling and trading of influence. Nearly every member of the First Estate (and every member in good standing) has her own influence “empire,” however modest, and she can use this influence to do favors for — or make assaults on — others, mortal and Kindred alike.
This kind of influence trading is widely practiced throughout The Invictus. Influence trading is, in fact, one of the pillars supporting the First Estate’s hegemony. Certain practices that mortal politicians (at least those in the West) would consider highly improper and blatantly corrupt are not only widespread but considered key strategies in The Invictus’ nightly operations.
Example: Sabine, the Ventrue Priscus of Washington, DC, has a solid grip on the gangs of that city that she has been cultivating since the early 70s. She all but controls the city’s black market in guns and drugs. She’s not so well connected in the city’s law enforcement community, but she knows a Mekhet who is. By making deals, the two can control the city’s overall sense of security. If Sabine wants a favor from Ricardo, the Mekhet, she can slow down illegal operations to make the police look good and give the mortal population a sense of security. Or she can make the cops look incompetent by turning up the gang activity. Or she can arrange a gang “incident” to distract the media from an internal affairs investigation in the police department to keep the heat off some of Ricardo’s pawns. For his part, Ricardo can send the police off on missions that safeguard Sabine’s gang interests, he can send them at her full force to make her unlife very difficult or he can gain promotions for certain key cops under his control by paying Sabine a small fortune to “sacrifice” a handful of her more incompetent gangbangers.
Together, these two Kindred have far more power over the mortal world than either would have alone, and they might buy or trade favors that ensure their hold on the mortal sphere.
The Danse Macabre
The midnight games never stop in The Invictus. Petty conspiracies are as good a way to pass the time as anything, especially for elders who’ve had centuries to refine their game technique.

The Impact of Lineage

No other covenant emphasizes pedigree the way The Invictus does. Despite its ostensibly rational approach to the Requiem, the First Estate is strangely, if quietly, superstitious about the heritable elements passed through Vitae. In the eyes of The Invictus, not only are the fundamental legacies of clan or bloodline transmitted through the Embrace but basic aspects of character as well: nobility, self-control, wisdom and the like (or the absence of all of the above). This attitude is never stated aloud — it doesn’t need to be, any more than it need be said that sunlight is dangerous. It is the prevailing belief throughout The Invictus.

The Power of Pedigree

Within The Invictus, a vampire with a respected sire benefits from every possible advantage, as if nobility were a trait granted by the Embrace. Until he proves otherwise, he is considered to possess the same laudable character as his sire. Within the First Estate, this is a powerful key to the chambers of power. The childe of a Prince, Priscus or Primogen might be admitted to the closed meetings of those Kindred as his sire’s “scribe” or assistant. While attending to his sire, the childe will certainly need to earn his keep, although he may feel himself to be something of a slave. What he may or may not realize is that being allowed into such surroundings at all is a form of apprenticeship to power. He learns the methodologies of dominion, the techniques of control and the strategies The Invictus uses to hold onto power. He may not even realize the boon he is receiving until he talks with other neonates and discovers that they have no such access to the powers that be.
Beyond even that, however, the childe of a respected member of the First Estate benefits in ways that other Kindred can only envy. A childe of a respected member, after proving herself in small ways, may be granted seed money to begin her own empire, for example, or a contingent of her sire’s blood dolls (as represented by taking Resources or Herd ••• at character creation, for example).

The Burden of Expectation

However, nothing in the Requiem comes without a price, and so it is with these advantages. The childe of a respected Kindred is expected to prove himself the equal of his sire — if not his better — within a handful of decades. A student repays his teacher poorly if he remains always a student. So it is among the Kindred: a childe who never establishes his own fortune, his own base of influence, his own reputation, is seen as a failure. The prestige that comes with a respected sire acts as an initial updraft in the “career” of a young Invictus member; it does not allow her to pass her entire Requiem without having to actually apply what she has learned from her sire.

Guilty by Embrace

A vampire with a notorious sire, or even a sire who becomes notorious long after the childe’s Embrace, is subtly tainted by his connection to his sire. Even one spectacular outburst on the part of a wellestablished elder (and the social implosion that follows) can taint dozens of childer for decades, if not the rest of their Requiems. Childer of a vampire who truly goes off the deep end can find doors closed to them that had been open since the first night of their Requiem.

Recourse for the Tainted

Even a Kindred with the most notorious sire needn’t suffer guilt by association for the rest of his nights, however. There are ways out of the hole dug by even the most wayward sire. It is, however, a long and difficult climb.
The following are by far the most common means of escaping the taint of a shamed sire:
Eclipse
A long Torpor does a lot to assuage the stigma of a shamed sire. Time may not heal all wounds, but it doesn’t hurt. Over the course of a long eclipse, one’s persecutors may meet Final Death, enter Torpor, find new scandals to concern themselves with or simply forget. The Kindred may wake to find her sire redeemed or long destroyed, in which case the stigma is likely resolved. Torpor isn’t always an option, however. The shamed childe may have too much going on, too many projects in play, to simply drop everything to retreat into Torpor.
Hejira
In some cases, a shamed childe may feel the only way to escape the reputation of a wayward sire is by taking flight to a new domain and establishing herself in a now locale where no one is aware of her sire’s guilt. This isn’t considered a particularly noble way of dealing with the situation — it’s seen as the cowardly way out — but it’s common enough that there’s a word for it: hejira. It’s a word used contemptuously, to describe the act of a knave who lacks the character to resolve a problem through more honorable or constructive means.
Any Kindred making a hejira is also considered incompetent, because any properly established member of the First Estate would have far too much at stake to leave everything behind just to escape something as transient as a bad reputation.
Still, some Kindred may find it easier to establish themselves in a new domain, on their own credentials and behavior, than to suffer under the weight of a sire’s infamy.
Expiation
By far the hardest means of dealing with a shamed sire is to fight the stigma by proving one’s own merit and character. This is notoriously difficult, as it requires the Kindred to disprove one of the unstated assumptions of the First Estate: that blood doesn’t fall far from the vein it poured from.
Expiation can take a myriad of forms. Restitution to the injured party might be feasible in some circumstances, but, more often than not, excelling in the covenant’s nightly work, especially achieving some goal that is important to the First Estate, is a potent way of proving one’s worth to the covenant.
Dead Offender
Final Death strips a sire of his power to shame his childe. While Final Death is an extreme course of action, ambitious childer have been known, singly and collectively, to destroy their sires in order to clear their own reputations.
Obviously, this is a challenge, since older Kindred typically hold the advantage over younger, but no one is beyond retribution. What the childe can’t accomplish by brute force, he can usually achieve through cunning and the manipulation of others, if he’s truly motivated.
Sires who develop a bad reputation and bring shame on their childer, particularly if they have a large or powerful brood, should be at least as concerned about the effects of their actions on their childer as on themselves. More often than not, Invictus sires and childer are relatively close (for Kindred, anyway), and a rogue childe is likely to have far more opportunity to harm her sire than other Kindred in a domain.
In the Danse Macabre, the shame of a rival’s childe can be a powerful tool. By emphasizing just how far her sire’s actions have dragged down her reputation, and pointing out the benefits of being rid of that dead weight, a clever Kindred can hone the childe into an ideal weapon for taking out an enemy.
For a sire’s part, he who brings about the meltdown of his own reputation through scandal is unlikely to be ignorant of the effect on his childer. He’s fully aware that he is the source of their shame, and he’s likely (if he’s smart) to cut himself off from his brood as quickly as possible to minimize the threat of murder by his own childer. Still, this has its own consequences. Over time, most Invictus Kindred grow to think of themselves as generals and their childer as lieutenants. A shamed vampire who cuts himself off from his childer has essentially maimed himself and undermined his own standing in Kindred society even more than his initial fall from grace.
A wise sire, then, might try to atone for his sins by bribing his childer with money, favors, promises or other enticements in order to keep them loyal despite his (and consequently their) plummet down the Kindred social ladder. Feeling the peril of the situations, such sires are often desperately generous, because they know that if they lose the backing of their childer (on top of everything else), they are well and truly Damned.
Lastly, a childe attempting to use his sire’s fall from grace as an excuse for destroying him may be surprised to find that The Invictus does not consider a sire’s shame to be sufficient reason to violate The Traditions. The burden of a sire’s bad reputation is not considered a legitimate defense for destroying him. When it comes right down to it, all Kindred know that the Beast could bring any one of them down at any moment. Shame and scandal may be slow to fade, but Final Death is permanent.

Monomacy

In conjunction with the First Estate’s emphasis on law and order, the constant social games and cotillions for which the covenant is known may give Kindred of other covenants the impression that members of the First Estate have no real, bitter conflicts, that they’re only interested in their petty intrigues and influence spats. Nothing could be further from the truth. Over the decades and centuries of engagement in the Danse Macabre, small hostilities build up between members of the First Estate just as hostilities do between any vampires; old alliances get strained and malice builds up like a static charge between rival Kindred — and the constant nudging of the Beast does nothing to ease tensions as the decades pass.
The hostilities are unquestionably there; it just so happens that, within the appearance-conscious Invictus, the nightly frictions of the Danse Macabre are almost entirely hidden out of sight. Slights may be ignored, but they are neither forgotten nor forgiven. Members of the First Estate find violent hostility, even between known enemies, to be unseemly at best, and, more generally, scandalous. Subtle influence grabs, conflicts acted out through ghoul proxies or street gangs and attacks on an enemy’s financial base are all much more common than outright Kindred-on-Kindred violence.
But some conflicts need to be settled with absolute finality, and that’s when members of The Invictus invoke the rite of monomacy.
If there is anything Invictus take with utter gravity, it is the one-on-one duel called monomacy. Monomacy is the most serious of the First Estate’s rituals.
There was a time when it was believed that divine agencies ensured that the more virtuous party emerged from monomacy while the guilty party met Final Death. That superstition has long since fallen by the wayside. Monomacy is now invoked only after all other options have been exhausted, when no lesser form of conflict resolution will suffice. The duel is the last resort when two Kindred simply cannot tolerate each other’s existence.
Elders have died attempting to prove their honor. Fortunes have been won and lost. Dynasties have crumbled, and dreams have been shattered.
Some members of the First Estate see monomacy as an atavism, a throwback to a time when The Invictus was about war and empire-building, not diplomacy and rulership.
Traditionally, monomacy ends only when one party has met with Final Death. In recent years, some domains (usually those with a strong Sanctified presence) have allowed monomacy to stop when one party has been sent into Torpor, although Invictus traditionalists are vehemently fighting this change, insisting that it weakens the power of monomachy. One Invictus went so far as to claim that this change threatened to turn a powerful Invictus tradition into “a pointless neonate slap fight.”
The weight of monomacy can’t be overestimated. Invictus Kindred are invested in the Requiem for the long term. Members of the First Estate, elders in particular, spend every night of their Requiem building their empires; consequently, Invictus members have the most to lose by meeting Final Death. Monomacy is never entered into lightly. Most Invictus Kindred are more likely to leave a domain than agree to monomacy.
Monomacy has only the following three rules:

• The Kindred involved cannot leave the arena until the duel is finished, one way or the other. Willingly leaving the field of battle during monomacy results in instant forfeiture of the duel. Using the Summon power to pull away someone involved in monomacy is punishable by blood hunt.[\li]
• No other Kindred are allowed to participate in the duel by any means, physical or otherwise. If this rule is broken, the monomacy is instantly rendered null and void.
• Combatants can only take along weapons that they can carry on their bodies. In some domains, this is interpreted to mean that even an Uzi is acceptable.

Beyond that, anything goes.
Monitors
Three monitors — usually the Judex and two elders or older ancillae — watch the monomacy duel for indications of cheating. These members of the covenant utilize high levels of Auspex to see to it that both duelists are abiding by the rules. If there is evidence that the duel is being tampered with, the monitors have the option of interrupting the monomacy and tracking down the offending interlopers. Monitors have full authority to call a blood hunt if they discover that someone outside the duel is trying to affect the outcome.

The Inner Circle

It is thought that The Invictus holds power in more cities than any other covenant. This figure includes many cities where other covenants even have numerical superiority and yet still defer to the First Estate’s greater ability to maintain law and order among the Kindred. The Invictus is renowned for its ability to rule, and while other covenants may resent the covenant’s ability to keep order, they can’t argue with the facts.
Where the First Estate rules, the domain’s hierarchy and the covenant’s are one and the same, but in those cities where other covenants are in power, the core of The Invictus’ power structure is the Inner Circle.
An Inner Circle consists of a handful of First Estate elders and whichever ancillae and even neonates they believe to be loyal and worthy members of the covenant. Most such groups tend to be heavily skewed toward elders, but this is no longer as absolute as it once was.
The Inner Circle’s primary function is to guide (and maintain order among) the domain’s Invictus Kindred. Secondary, the group’s purpose is to further the covenant’s standing and influence in the domain. In essence, the members of the Inner Circle strive to put themselves out of a job by turning around their domain and adding it to the column of Invictus-controlled cities.
While membership in the Inner Circle is unquestionably prestigious — its members have undeniable sway over the First Estate’s operations in that domain — membership is not without disadvantages. Regardless of the domain they’re in, members of the Inner Circle are, by necessity, secretive and more than a little paranoid. The Invictus only establishes Inner Circles in cities with substantial Kindred populations where the First Estate is not the dominant covenant. Any city with an Inner Circle is, almost by definition, a city worth controlling. The Inner Circle’s unstated agenda (if not its driving, defining goal) is to make The Invictus the city’s ruling faction by any means necessary. The weight of this agenda can be seen in every move the First Estate makes in that domain. The Invictus was founded to rule Kindred, and the covenant fulfills this responsibility effectively and with great aplomb, but in domains where other covenants rule the night, Invictus members must make their calling, and their worthiness, plain for all to see. This task falls to the Inner Circle as well.
Other covenants are well aware of The Invictus’ hunger for dominance — most have suffered the sting of the covenant’s will to power at least once — and they inevitably grow to resent the Inner Circle’s constant manipulation and conspiracies. For that reason, members of the Inner Circle may find themselves spending their nights avoiding assassination attempts (and, admittedly, launching a few of their own). No member of an Inner Circle is likely to brag about being in the Inner Circle to those not affiliated with the First Estate, because doing so is likely to get her destroyed.
In addition to setting The Invictus agenda for their respective domains, members of the Inner circle are also tasked with coordinating their efforts with other members of the First Estate.
Although a relatively recent (and not entirely popular) development, many Inner Circles are surprisingly well networked with The Invictus leadership of other cities, considering how isolated domains are from one another. There was a time when the First Estate had the luxury of ruling the Kindred of its domains in a vacuum. This was easily the case so long as each domain was a self-contained fiefdom with little or no contact with other cities, but in the modern nights, with the advent of telecommunications and a global monetary system, that is no longer an option. Invictus Kindred in Tokyo can now step on the financial toes of Kindred in New York City and Sydney without intending to. Accordingly, The Invictus has had to become the best-networked of the Kindred covenants. In First Estate domains, the Herald is traditionally the Kindred responsible for maintaining communication with The Invictus power structure in other cities. In non-Invictus domains, the Inner Circle grants one of its members the title of Herald (or Scribe, as it’s known in some locales), and that individual keeps other domains apprised of such issues as inter-covenant clashes, impending threats, investments, strategic influence acquisitions and so on.

Activities of the Inner Circle

The very existence of an Inner Circle indicates, by definition, that The Invictus is not in power in a given domain, and yet you’d never know that based on the behavior of these ranking members of the First Estate. They comport themselves like nocturnal royalty to the full extent their circumstances allow. “Fake it ’til you make it,” is a perfectly valid strategy in the eyes of the First Estate, and it works with a surprising frequency. The appearance of success and prestige is just as effective at gaining converts as the real thing, and so, even in domains where The Invictus has only a token representation, members of the Inner Circle will cast themselves as noble ladies and lords and wait for the followers to appear — and, in time, they always do.
On a night-to-night basis, the activities of the Inner Circle might include any of the following:
Neutralizing Key Targets
Members of the Inner Circle are keenly aware of The Invictus’ compromised position in domains where they guide their covenant. To work against what they see as their “unacknowledged and unacceptable” Status in these domains, they target key members of the covenant(s) in power and “neutralize” them to undermine the power and standing of other covenants. (The Invictus has long maintained its power by pulling the rug out from beneath others, so this is hardly an unusual tactic.) This might take the form of anything from a profound humiliation to the actual destruction of the Kindred in question. Members of the Inner Circle are, of necessity, incredibly paranoid when carrying out such activities. They use contactsof-contacts to arrange such activities, thereby keeping their own hands clean, and spare no effort to maintain secrecy. As the First Estate is the covenant that pushes “law and order,” it does not behoove The Invictus to get caught undermining a domain’s political establishment. All such underhanded activities carried out by The Invictus have a high degree of plausible deniability built into them, so even if Inner Circle members are caught red-handed, they can claim that it’s not what it looks like — and have a reasonable chance of being believed.
Growing and Wielding Influence
Mortal influence is one of the pillars of the First Estate’s power, and the Inner Circle frequently makes the acquisition and extensive use of mortal agents a high priority in its campaign to establish itself as the dominant covenant. Once The Invictus has established its mortal power base, the Inner Circle uses it extensively to distract and harass members of other covenants. As far as The Invictus is concerned, one of the greatest Resources the Kindred can tap into is the world of mortals that teems and surges around them every night. The Inner Circle, composed as it often is of First Estate elders, typically has enough mortals in its pocket to make devastating attacks on other covenants. Only the Carthians benefit from a similar degree of control over mortal pawns, and most of them are still so young that they’ve not yet learned the most effective tactics involving mortals.
Throwing Lavish Parties
Even in domains where The Invictus is not the dominant power, the First Estate has an unquestionable cachet and a well-established reputation for power and prestige that lures curious or disaffected Kindred from other covenants. The First Estate is well-aware of this fact and is not above playing up its mystique to gain members. One of the most effective ways to play up this strength is to host large, formal parties as a means of showing off the covenant’s wealth, prestige and social graces. These parties are, without exception, impressive events, usually put together by talented and well-funded Daeva. Such productions may take the form of private concerts, lavish masquerade balls or intimate soirees featuring circus acts and other exotic entertainments; inevitably, there is a small swarm of blood dolls wandering through the event, serene and glassy-eyed, waiting to be fed from by any attendee with an appetite.
The purpose of these events is to impress other Kindred so much that they join the First Estate. Members of the city’s Invictus mingle and play up the benefits of First Estate affiliation to all who will listen.
Knowing the dangers of letting members attend these sorts of Invictus parties, some covenants forbidden their members to attend. This, too, serves the First Estate’s goals, because it causes those other covenants to come across as domineering killjoys, pushing away exactly those borderline members that The Invictus hopes to lure away.
Defending Themselves
Invictus members make no bones about believing themselves to be the best rulers of Kindred and pushing to gain control over any domain they’re in. In domains where other covenants are strong, this doesn’t go over well. The only time an Inner Circle is likely not to be pushing the First Estate’s agenda is if that Inner Circle is on the defensive. Other covenants have, over time, learned this the hard way, and so it is not uncommon for a domain’s Inner Circle to be under constant pressure from the other covenants. The Lancea Sanctum and Ordo Dracul tend to be less hostile toward the First Estate and, therefore, more likely to strike through mortal influences and other indirect, non-lethal means. The Carthian Movement and The Circle of the Crone, however, despise the hierarchical Invictus, and these covenants are at least as likely to try assassinating Inner Circle members as launch influence offensives against them.
In the most extreme cases, members of the Inner Circle may have to work entirely from secrecy or even masquerade as members of another covenant; although it is rare for domains to be this hostile toward the First Estate.

Invictus in the Wings

The First Estate always wants to be the dominant covenant in every domain, and they are infuriated when they’re not. Much of the business of The Invictus in those cities is directed toward becoming the dominant covenant, either by gaining more power themselves or by undermining the power base of the other covenants.
Such circumstances have been known to bring out the very worst in First Estate Kindred. While they continue to sing the praises of law and order, they frequently turn all their energies into cultivating unrest and fomenting rebellion, albeit through the subtlest means possible.
The strategies used by The Invictus under such circumstances are varied, subversive and remarkably effective.

Strategy and Tactics

The dark secret of The Invictus is that they have not consolidated their position in the Kindred world solely by guiding their own covenant with intelligent strategies and enlightened membership policies (though that is definitely the appearance they project to others). The Invictus is also skilled at undermining other covenants through influence attacks, spin control, smear campaigns and character assassination. While the covenant usually resorts to open warfare as a last resort, The Invictus is more than willing to use subtle, lengthy campaigns to turn their opponents into objects of ridicule. These kinds of very subtle efforts are among the First Estate’s favored tactics. Defeating an enemy this way is far superior to outright destruction because there’s no chance of the vanquished foe becoming a martyr.
This is hardly the full extent of The Invictus playbook. On the contrary, the elders of the First Estate pride themselves on their extensive collections of documents concerning Kindred warfare. Nine times out of 10, The Invictus has engaged the enemy and gained the advantage before the other covenant is even aware it’s under attack. That’s the power of First Estate’s subtlety.
The Helping Hand of Destruction
Members of The Invictus insist that their covenant has no other agenda but the preservation of law and order in defense of Kindred society. This line serves The Invictus well, particularly when it comes time to undermine Princes of other covenants.
One tactic that the First Estate has employed effectively in the past is to subtly prop up the Princes of other covenants with money, influence or other Resources, thereby giving them an artificial sense of their own power. The more The Invictus subsidizes such a Prince, the more other covenant feels it’s in command and, more often than not, the sloppier its members become. When The Invictus decides to lower the boom, the covenant simply pulls out all its support and launches subtle attacks based on weaknesses that the First Estate has watched develop over the preceding years. If the target covenant even realizes what’s happened before it’s forced out of power, it will remember the burn for decades to come, but, by then, The Invictus will be back on top, where the covenant likes to be.
These are the strategies of the First Estate. Whatever Invictus Kindred are doing (or not doing) under cover of darkness, they always manage to uphold the appearance of propriety, even if they’re plotting to take over the domain (which they usually are if they’re not in power).

All-Out War

The Invictus hates open warfare, as it represents a persistent threat to the Masquerade and carries the threat of the death of elder Kindred. Nonetheless, the covenant will launch open assaults on an enemy if The Invictus is being directly attacked — and it will expect to win those battles. As a vaguely militaristic organization, and one that has played a role in some of the largest wars in history, the First Estate understands the need for coherent tactics and solid battle plans. When the First Estate does launch an actual offensive, the covenant’s old militaristic bent comes surging to the fore and the First Estate demonstrates the power of time-tested strategies and military science through paralyzing influence strikes and devastating surgical attacks.
At times like this, The Invictus’ wealth of elders makes it a force to be reckoned with. During such campaigns, Invictus Prisci become the lieutenants of the Inner Circle, and each clan has its assigned responsibilities: the Mekhet and Nosferatu gather information and the Ventrue command troops comprising the Daeva, Gangrel and Nosferatu. The threat of The Invictus’ elders entering into combat together is generally ample to keep other covenants from launching direct attacks on The Invictus, but when such a thing happens, it’s truly a devastating thing to behold.

The Importance of Being Important

One tactic common to members of the First Estate, whether they’re in power or not, is to generate an overwhelming illusion of authority and importance. This is among the greatest strengths of The Invictus.
Kindred commonly treat others as they indicate they are willing to be treated. First Estate Kindred, therefore, indicate that they are willing to be treated as equals and nothing less. (At the Storyteller’s discretion, this would likely involve a Presence + Socialize roll to pull off effectively, although a player may argue that the circumstances call for another Social Skill.)
The responses of other Kindred to this attitude varies by covenant. The Ordo Dracul appears to be fine with it. Members of The Lancea Sanctum tend to find this habit arrogant and off-putting. Acolytes make a habit of ignoring such First Estate members, and the Carthians hate it, although they’re not likely to do much more than poke fun at the First Estate’s bombastic attitude.
An untitled Invictus ancilla will comport himself with the pomp and arrogance of a Prince any time he is not in the presence of higher-ranking members of his own covenant. In the presence of older Kindred of other covenants, he will comport himself as their equal, entering into conversation with them, discussing business and showing absolutely no deference to them whatsoever. By acting like the equal of these vampires, the ancilla effectively makes it so. Given the emphasis the First Estate places on social skills, most Kindred in the covenant can pull this off fairly convincingly even by the time they’re young ancillae.

A Courtier's Unlife

Mere power is not enough to advance in The Invictus. Gaining Status requires acceptance by those Kindred who already have great power and high Status in the covenant. An ambitious member of the First Estate needs to spend time at Elysium and the Prince’s court. She must see other Invictus and be seen, currying favor and undercutting her rivals. Most of all, she must participate in the covenant’s theater of power.

The Theater of Power

For The Invictus, gatherings of the Kindred are not just opportunities to socialize or engage in the mundane duties of resolving disputes and petitions. The gatherings are opportunities to display the covenant’s power and glory. The First Estate shows its rival covenants and The Unaligned who rules the night.
Most of the time, an Elysium run by The Invictus resembles an Elysium run by any other covenant. That’s largely because the First Estate claims to have created the institution and set its traditions. The same is true for the Prince’s court. Now and then, however, The Invictus arranges a spectacle to stagger other Kindred’s imagination. Such a “Grand Elysium” might take place only once a year, on a special occasion. A Grand Elysium is an opportunity for The Invictus to showcase every technique in its theatrical arsenal.

Suitable Occaisions

A Grand Elysium usually takes place on a date with some significance to the city’s Kindred — or at least it used to. After a few hundred years, even The Invictus may forget why they assemble on May 23 and not on some other day. Once a tradition begins, the First Estate sticks by it, whether the tradition has an explanation or not. Some dates are anniversaries, such as the night the city’s first Prince first held court. The Prince’s Embrace-Night is another common occasion or the anniversary of her accession to the office. Many Invictusdominated cities also celebrate Founder’s Night, the anniversary of the first vampire’s arrival in the city (assuming this is known). These anniversaries are prime occasions to remind other Kindred of the rules and traditions they must obey.
In other cities, the Kindred may observe mortal holidays through a Grand Elysium. Many American elders come from a time when Independence Day was the chief civic holiday, and they continue to celebrate it with fireworks and speeches. Latin American elders often celebrate their own countries’ independence days too: for instance, every Mexican city where The Invictus is strong sees lavish celebrations of Constitution Day, when Father Hidalgo issued the famous call for independence from Spain back in 1810. Mexican independence made no difference to the First Estate, but it’s tradition — and a night when a grand party can blend in with mortal celebrations.
Religious holidays such as Easter or Christmas seldom become occasions for a Grand Elysium. Such nights have too strong an association with The Lancea Sanctum. If The Invictus recognize such holidays, it’s usually as part of a power-sharing agreement with the Sanctified.
Young vampires sometimes celebrate Hallowe’En as “their night.” The First Estate has none of it. As far as the covenant’s elders are concerned, All Hallow’s Eve is a minor Christian festival — which happens to come at the same time as a Celtic festival esteemed by The Circle of the Crone — which modern merchandisers have turned into an excuse to sell candy. Any weight of tradition is associated with other covenants. Besides, Hallowe’En is tacky, and any children who go missing will cause a firestorm of publicity and police investigation. When The Invictus pays attention to Hallowe’En at all, it’s to send neonates on patrol to make sure no one else stirs up trouble by molesting the succulent morsels roaming the streets.

Suitable Locations

The Kindred have one great problem when arranging Grand Elysiums and other spectacles: everything must stay hidden from the mortals. When the Prince wants to throw a parade for a victorious war-coterie, he can’t send them marching down Main Street with a brass band.
Sometimes, however, the First Estate can use semipublic facilities for its theaters of power. The lesson is not lost on other Kindred. If The Invictus can commandeer an opera house, museum or sports stadium for a night, the elders show just how much control they have over mortals. Even if the First Estate comes up with a cover story to explain why dozens or hundreds of people might gather late at night, keeping out mortal gate-crashers is an impressive feat in itself.
More often, The Invictus uses private property, where the covenant doesn’t need to explain anything to anyone. If the Prince or some other worthy owns a huge mansion, the First Estate can call the Kindred to court in something close to a palace. The Invictus can also buy a building and hang out a shingle for a private club. As long as the mortal authorities don’t suspect any criminal activities at the “Centurion Club” or “Benevolent Association of Remus,” the Kindred can gather without attracting attention. If The Invictus finds this inconvenient, enough money cannot only rent a convention center, it can clear the building of employees so the First Estate can bring in its own staff. (In the United States, at least, most convention centers are desperate for business and might not ask too many questions.)
As the club option suggests, sometimes the First Estate can build its own facilities, so that mortals never notice the Kindred. During the 1950s, the First Estate exploited nuclear jitters to build huge civil defense shelters in several cities — then erased the records of the shelters’ existence, leaving them in Kindred hands. Invictus tycoons have built skyscrapers with entire floors sealed off and unknown to mortals (not always the 13th). In New York City, The Invictus took advantage of shifting subway routes to “lose” an entire station; in Moscow, Mexico City and other cities with expanding subway systems and high corruption, the First Estate built its own subterranean palaces to order. Such structures offer their own advertisement of the covenant’s limitless wealth and power.

The Processional

The Invictus likes to begin an Elysium or Prince’s court with a parade of dignitaries. This definitely takes place at a Grand Elysium. As the other Kindred watch, coteries and officers enter one by one. A stentor announces their names, titles and other awards. For example: “The Knights of Remus coterie, destroyers of Damned from Belial’s Brood, guard of honor for this Elysium!” or “Lady Persephone Moore, Childe of Prince Maxwell!” or “Lord Geoffrey Maclure, Regent of Waterston, Master of Nightmare!” The Invictus march past the other Kindred, giving everyone a chance to see their fine clothes, and gather in ranks so the other Kindred can see how many of them there are. Plenty of liveried ghoul or mortal servants are on hand to stand at attention and add to the pomp of the scene, as well.
Naturally, there’s music — something with lots of brass and percussion, like the overture to Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg or the “Parade of the Charioteers” from Ben-Hur. Processional music written for the Olympic Games is another common choice. For a Grand Elysium, the covenant may hire composers to write new processional music. Kindred who discover a good new composer or bandleader earn at least a little prestige from the other Invictus.
The highest-ranking Kindred — usually the Prince — enters last, to the applause of the assembled Invictus. The Prince receives this honor even if he himself is not in the First Estate, as an unsubtle suggestion about which covenant respects him and his office most. When the Prince takes his seat, the ranked Invictus bow, then salute and Shout an Invictus slogan such as “Regnabimus intemporaliter!” (“We will rule forever!”) Only then may they sit as well.

Taking Care of Business: The Prince's Court

A Grand Elysium may include a court session. Either the Prince hears the business of the Kindred in general or a Judex or the Inner Circle hear pleas and petitions from other Invictus. Other elders and influential Kindred may report on their activities or request arbitration of disputes. (The actual arbitration takes place at some other time, at a more private meeting, though the Prince or Judex may announce his answer to a petition delivered earlier.) New titles and honors are awarded as well.
The Invictus prefers to treat this necessary business of governance more like a medieval royal court than a modern business or governmental meeting. The stentor announces each item of business: “Next item: Petition from the Right Reverend Bishop Solomon Birch, Prelate of The Lancea Sanctum, for recognition of his regency over the Crown Heights neighborhood!” The stentor may bang a staff on the floor for extra emphasis. Some cities even keep a squad of trumpeters on hand to blow a fanfare between each item on the agenda.
Not every Grand Elysium necessarily includes this stage. On holidays, for instance, The Invictus might throw a Grand Elysium simply to show off covenant’s numbers and power before the festivities begin.

Entertainment

Once the agenda is complete, the First Estate rewards the assembled Kindred for their patience by offering some amusement. Naturally, The Invictus selects old-fashioned entertainments. Not for these Kindred a Rock concert or even a classic movie: if an entertainment didn’t exist in 1800, the First Estate will have none of it.
Many Invictus elders enjoy classical music. This was popular music when they still lived: the First Estate will accept jazz, Rock and rap in a few centuries, when tonight’s neonates become the covenant’s ruling elders. Many elders particularly like hearing piano or violin virtuosos, if only so they can say smugly that the new performers aren’t as good as Liszt, Paganini or Mozart. Many elders also enjoy discussing the relative Merits of modern opera singers, comparing them to Caruso, Jenny Lind (the “Swedish Nightingale”) or even older performers — whether they actually heard these singers or not. Some elders like the ballet too.
For ordinary Elysium meetings or court sessions, The Invictus provides a few musicians, singers or dancers. For a Grand Elysium, a private performance from a whole symphony orchestra or opera company drives home the covenant’s vast wealth. It’s not too hard to explain the event away to the performers, either: one of the most frequent cover stories is that the performance is part of a charity fundraiser conducted by the city’s millionaires. Sometimes the First Estate really does donate money to some worthy cause after a Grand Elysium, so the cover story is not far from the truth.
Plays are another favored entertainment. Every city has at least one mortal theater troupe, large or small, and the company is usually desperate for money. While the First Estate prefers classic dramas from Aeschylus to Ibsen for a Grand Elysium, covenant members sometimes pay for new works in an old style. A reading of poetry or prose is too small an event for a Grand Elysium, but is acceptable entertainment for a normal Elysium. Readings often include a mix of classic and modern work that sticks to older forms; The Invictus has no taste for free verse or “experimental” short stories.
Not all entertainments are so highbrow. Modern team sports such as baseball, basketball and soccer have sufficiently antique roots that even the hoariest elders can understand. Instead of pro teams, though, the First Estate sets up games between teams of ghoul Retainers or other amateurs. Neonates may also hope to attract an elder’s favor through a good performance on the sporting field. More often, though, The Invictus offers oneon-one sporting contests such as boxing, wrestling or fencing — with no newfangled safety Equipment. Bareknuckle boxing matches between Ghouls can drive an audience to the edge of frenzy through the entertainment’s bloody brutality.
For a Grand Elysium, the First Estate sometimes sponsors actual medieval-style contests and tourneys, in which the covenant’s modern Knights and Squires show off their combat prowess. Since the advent of the Society for Creative Anachronism and the growth of Renaissance Faires, these entertainments have become much easier to explain to mortals, if this becomes necessary. No mortal medievalists can match the spectacle of two dueling Kindred with Celerity, however, or the power of Knights jousting on ghoul horses.
When the covenant’s elders were living kine, animal blood sports were also universally popular. People of every class enjoyed cockfights and similar amusements. In Latin American countries, The Invictus can commandeer a bullfighting ring for a night, and some Kindred achieve a shadow of Fame as matadors. In other countries, the covenant sometimes offers bearbaiting, with both the bear and the attacking dogs ghouled. (The bear might be captured by a hunt club such as the Most Noble Fellowship of Artemis; see Chapter Five.)
Jugglers, acrobats and other old-fashioned entertainers also may find themselves performing for a Grand Elysium. They serve as warm-up acts or intermissions between the main events. Although the Kindred perform real magic themselves, The Invictus sometimes hires stage magicians, too, and enjoys their tricks just as much as any mortal would. They would never ask a genuine blood-sorcerer to perform. Even if an Acolyte or Sanctified prostituted his hard-won magic for mere entertainment, the First Estate does not want to give center stage to a vampire from another covenant.

Refreshments

After the night’s entertainment, The Invictus elders offer a blood feast for the other Kindred dignitaries. The Invictus might spend months assembling enough vessels to feed all the honored guests at a Grand Elysium. Gathering mortals to feed upon would take less time, and require fewer people, if the covenant were ready to surrender completely to the Beast and simply slaughter the vessels. The First Estate members’ concern for decorum (and keeping themselves from degenerating into mindless beasts) discourages the covenant from engaging in mass murder just for fun. The vessels may also come from Invictus members’ herds, though the covenant frowns on destroying its own sources of power and sustenance. The mortals may be unconscious, or, if they come from a Herd, they might be very well paid or bound by Vincula or Discipline use.
An Invictus blood feast tends to be a genteel affair. Servants drain fresh blood into pre-heated goblets, so it doesn’t lose its warmth too quickly. Willing vessels from herds might dance with the Kindred about to feed upon them, and assure the Kindred that they consider it an honor as well as a pleasure to receive the Kiss from such distinguished Masters of the Night. Servants and junior Invictus stand by to help Kindred overwhelmed by feeding-frenzy to regain control. Woe to the junior Kindred who let the presence of so much blood overwhelm them. They shall not be invited to any of the covenant’s festivities for a long time to come. If The Invictus who arrange the blood feast know what they’re doing and their Retainers are properly trained, few vessels die from blood loss.
The blood feast traditionally concludes a Grand Elysium. Just to make sure everyone remembers who sponsored the festivities, however, The Invictus form a receiving line again and thank the other Kindred for attending. As morning approaches, everyone returns to their havens. The servants begin the task of cleaning up and making sure no trace of the undead revelry remains.

Executions

The Invictus combines business with entertainment on the rare occasions when Kindred are executed. Those in power have turned executions into public spectacles since forever; The Invictus upholds this tradition. The First Estate turns a Kindred’s destruction into a darker, grimmer theater of power.
The fatal drama begins with a processional entrance by the city’s leading Kindred officers, Invictus or not. During such a solemn affair, a Prince wants every clan and covenant represented to show their approval of the proceedings. By extension, the dignitaries endorse the Prince’s power to order the Final Death of other Kindred.
Everyone dons some special article of dress for the occasion. Depending on the Prince’s taste, execution garb can range from a red sash to black robes and periwigs. The condemned vampire may also wear special garb as he’s brought in. Some Princes like to see prisoners naked except for the chains that bind them. Others prefer their prisoners to wear sackcloth of penitence or pointed hoods. Condemned Kindred of high Status, however, are often allowed to keep their normal clothing as a final gesture of respect.
The Sheriff or the Prince’s Seneschal recites the crimes of the condemned vampire, all in the most high-flown rhetoric. The Prince himself reads the sentence of destruction and commands his Archon to carry out the sentence. The Archon, in turn, may oversee an entire squad of assistants. Neonates with strong stomachs can earn some respect by volunteering for execution duty. The Invictus prefers elaborate executions: the more fanciful and horrifying the execution, the more The Invictus feels it has expressed its hatred of lawbreakers.
A long and elaborate execution also arouses greater emotions among the watching Kindred — fear, satisfaction at society’s revenge on the deviant and the raw bloodlust of the Beast. Beheading a condemned vampire is good — but fixing hooks in his body so teams of horses tear him apart is better, and slow impalement by a stake of red-hot iron is better still. An execution may also include preliminary tortures such as flaying the prisoner, breaking his bones one by one with a Sledgehammer or running him through with rapiers while he hangs in an iron cage.
At the end of the execution, the theater of power concludes with the Prince, Primogen and other Kindred officers making statements that justice has been done. The Prince concludes by exhorting all Kindred to obey The Traditions and the Kindred leaders, for these are the strength of the Kindred and their safety from the mortals who would destroy the Kindred.

Fun and Games

The Invictus claims to rule by merit, so members often work very hard to be the best at anything that interests them. On the other hand, aristocrats often do not want to seem to take anything too seriously; it might imply they are not completely secure in their power. Mortal aristocrats resolve this conundrum by turning necessary activities into games. That way, they can hone their skills and compete with each other while pretending it’s all in fun.
The First Estate does the same thing. The Kindred must feed from mortal prey, without letting their victims know it, the Kindred must manipulate mortal individuals and societies to cover up the Kindred’s existence. Invictus courtiers turn these necessary activities into sport.

Venery

Venery is an archaic term for hunting. The term has become a metaphor for lechery and Seduction. The Kindred find both senses appropriate when they hunt mortals for sport, since the Kindred prefer social skills to brute force.
A contest of venery can take up to a week. The sponsoring Kindred draw up a list of victim profiles, with different point values. “A blonde woman at a convenience store” might be worth only two points: it’s not very restrictive. “A married, blonde woman in her 20s, in an Alfa Romeo” would be worth 20 points, since the profile has many elements and includes an unusual make of car.
Next, the participants in the hunt pair up. As each one hunts, the other serves as witness. (Participants now carry small instant cameras, too, as another way to prove they found their victims and fed upon them.) Each night, the participants receive a new partner, to prevent collusion between them. At the end of the week, the sponsors find which hunter achieved the highest score. The winner receives a prize, such as a cash purse or a boon from an elder who sponsored the contest.
For full points, contestants need to stalk and feed upon their prey without using Disciplines. That includes hiding their predations: if a contestant uses Dominate to erase a victim’s memory, for instance, he loses half his points. Some Kindred use Disciplines anyway, because they make hunting so much easier, and the Kindred hope they can accumulate enough victims to make up for each victim’s lower point value.
Contestants also make choices about whether to seek rare, high-value targets or easy, low-value targets. Highvalue targets bring victory if you can find them, but you can also lose a lot of time looking for that Alfa Romeo. Winning at venery requires knowing your city — and the skill to make a high-value target. For instance, a hunter might look for a married, blonde woman in her 20s, then try to get her into an Alfa Romeo.

Hoax

The Kindred constantly need to cover up evidence of their activities, often creating false explanations for Masquerade breaches. The Invictus turns this into a sport. In a game of Hoax, contestants try to create a false news story. The more outrageous the story, the better. Typically, the contestants have a month to adjust memories, recruit false witnesses, manufacture physical evidence and feed the whole thing to the media. Then a panel of judges watches the media for another month, to see if the story stands up to scrutiny. A story that’s too plausible or too close to reality might not receive close, skeptical inquiry; a story that’s too ridiculous might not attract attention from any media but the tabloids. A winning hoax makes its way into respectable, mainstream media and survives inquiry from reporters; convincing police or scientists is even better.
The judges of a hoaxing contest assume that if a hoax can survive for a month, the hoax will last forever. Even if later investigation proves the story was false, a winning hoax will have saturated the media and convinced a large fraction of the mortal population. Later debunking won’t affect popular belief that much, and any lives ruined will stay ruined.
As usual for Invictus sports, the winner receives a cash purse or a boon. The winner also becomes the go-to guy when The Invictus needs the media manipulated. A repeatedly successful hoaxer may gain Status from this skill alone.

Puppet Play

For a more elaborate game of social manipulation, Invictus members sometimes engage in Puppet Play. A single Invictus proposes to maneuver a group of mortals into acting out a drama of her design, without them knowing it. Typically, the undead dramatist has a month in which to move her mortal puppets. If she cannot create the situations she promised, she loses face but suffers no other penalty.
A typical drama might be to arrange a love affair between two selected mortals, then have the affair turn sour and end with one lover murdering the other in a designated location. A group of other Kindred act as judges, rating the dramatist for the complexity of her storyline and her subtlety in manipulating her unwitting actors. For instance, using Dominate to force mortals’ actions is too crude for true artistry; if the Discipline is used at all, it’s to control people around the “actors,” leading them in certain directions while leaving them free will. The “supporting cast” that helps manipulate the actors can also include bribed or blood-bound minions of the dramatist.
Puppet Play is more an art than a game, but has a competitive aspect. A successful dramatist proves that she is a master manipulator of the kine. The Invictus, in particular, tend to exist and work surrounded by mortals. Other Kindred have to wonder what other schemes the dramatist spins, and how much influence she has over the mortals around.

Blood Tasting

It’s an understatement to say that blood matters a lot to Kindred. The aristocrats of the undead turn feeding into art. By concentrating on the nuances of the act, they make biting and sucking blood seem less sordid.
Some Invictus prefer to feed in the most elegant surroundings. They bring their drugged, dazed or duped vessel into a beautifully furnished chamber, where sweet music plays and perfume wafts through the air. Both vampire and victim are dressed to the nines, as part of the pretense that this isn’t an assault.
Other Kindred obsess about the vessels themselves. They claim they can taste subtle differences in blood. Type O-negative, they say, tastes different from O-positive. The blood of youth has a stronger taste, but the blood of age is more complex. The mortal’s diet, surroundings and activities leave traces in the blood, so the blood of the frightened or anxious fizzes with stress hormones, while blood taken during a mortal’s orgasm seethes with hormones of a different sort. These Kindred gourmands devote great effort to selecting and preparing their vessels, combining desired physical types with particular diets and emotions to flavor the blood.
Gourmands also seek the blood of the famous or notorious. Although preserved blood tastes far inferior to blood sucked hot from the flesh, some Invictus pay enormous prices for samples of the blood of celebrities. “Ahh, a Kennedy! Full, rich and complex, as always. Now try this Windsor . . . . ”
Animal blood is normally low-subsistence fare for neonates, but some Kindred develop an interest in the blood of unusual animals. Even a vampire who can no longer take sustenance from animal blood might try a drink of Siberian tiger, oryx or Komodo dragon, just from curiosity — and because few other Kindred will get the chance to try. Young gourmands may try blending the bloods of various animals, in hopes the blood will taste better, or try to duplicate some more exotic taste. “I start with pig’s blood, but if you mix it three to one with goose blood and add a drop of tarragon extract, it tastes just like hippopotamus. No, really!”

Tokens of Honor

The First Estate dearly loves to advertise rank and privilege. Sometimes this urge can even overpower the Kindred’s paranoid tendency to hide information about themselves. For instance, a vampire might not want other Kindred to know exactly how powerful she is at Dominate or some other Discipline, so they will underestimate her. Mastering a Discipline is a big achievement, though, deserving respect — and asking an Invictus courtier to forgo respect is about like asking her to pull her own fangs.
On formal occasions, therefore, Invictus courtiers tend to flaunt their rank and achievements through their clothing and ornaments. No two cities’ First Estates use exactly the same system, but some methods of showing honors are more frequent than others.

What is Honored

First and foremost, The Invictus let everyone know about any offices The Invictus members hold in Kindred governance, no matter how small. For instance, the Primus for the coterie that decorates the Prince’s Embrace-Night celebration proudly claims the title of Chief Decorator, and lets other Invictus know of this “honor.” Even though the First Estate has very few formal offices of its own, its members invent their own titles with enthusiasm, along with their own uniforms, medals and other tokens of rank. Other Kindred often laugh at such attempts to pull Status from nowhere, but The Invictus know that you can give any title dignity if you back it up with power and connections. If the Prince happens to like his party decorations, his Chief Decorator might actually be worth knowing and flattering . . . .
First Estate members who achieve more established offices such as Sheriff or Primogen invariably receive some special token of office. Very often, the uniform or regalia dates back centuries and looks ridiculously out of date — but the cumulative effect of a dozen or more Invictus in their archaic finery can still produce a strange grandeur.
More generally, all members of a guild or faction sport some token of their membership. Military orders are most assiduous in this: no Invictus gathering would be complete without a group of undead Knights in bemedalled uniforms. The Knights may even wear armor that’s been militarily useless for centuries. Other guilds and factions usually settle for less obtrusive signs of membership, such as a pin or ring.
Clan membership is not really an “honor,” but it is part of a Kindred’s identity. The Invictus often asks its members to show some token of their clan. The First Estate simply likes to recognize the role of clan in Kindred society, as part of The Invictus’ general mission to establish and maintain order.
As mentioned, mastering a Discipline receives recognition, too. At Elysium or the Prince’s court, The Invictus likes other Kindred to see the power of its members. Younger Kindred sarcastically call the medals, sashes or other tokens of Discipline mastery “merit badges,” as if the First Estate were nothing more important than the Boy Scouts. These neonates miss the point: the First Estate does believe these tokens show merit. A token shows that a member had the persistence to become very good at something and, as a result, has become extremely dangerous. The Mekhet ancilla wearing her triangular All-Seeing-Eye brooch isn’t just saying she’s worked a long time getting good at Auspex; she announces to one and all that they have no secrets from her, because she can watch them as an intangible spirit any time she wants. The Ventrue Primogen makes a similar statement of power with the golden chain of Dominate mastery clipped to his lapel. There’s nothing like a line of unsmiling elders, each sporting one or more “merit badges” of Discipline mastery, to remind other Kindred that The Invictus demands respect.
Specific deeds may also bring an Invictus some token of honor from the Inner Circle or an Invictus Prince. A coterie that destroys a group of Belial’s Brood or a dangerous witch-hunter can certainly expect some sort of medal or badge. Covering up an especially dangerous Masquerade breach may also bring recognition. The First Estate doesn’t hand out medals lightly, just for doing your job; but it appreciates service above and beyond the call of duty. A small ceremony and a token of honor encourages other Invictus to seek glory through service to the covenant and its elders.

Typical Tokens

The First Estate has several ways to show rank and achievement, besides the titles Kindred may hold. Not surprisingly, all are common among mortals, too — or were, once upon a time.

• Clothing is a frequent means of showing membership in a faction, guild or clan. Paramilitary orders often wear livery that resembles uniforms of the near or distant past. In Europe, the First Estate’s Knights usually mark formal occasions by wearing medieval armor chased with insignia of their order. Invictus warriors may also wear the garb of landsknechte, musketeers, dragoons or other soldiers of the early modern era. In the New World, Invictus Knights usually wear uniforms from more recent times, from the Revolutionary to the Civil War. Sometimes, they can pass for modern soldiers in dress uniform, since mortal militaries are quite conservative, too. (Think of marine officers carrying dress swords.)
  Invictus Knights are not the only members to wear uniforms. Everyone in a coterie or guild might adopt common garb on formal occasions, showing their unity of purpose. For instance, everyone in the Courier’s Guild that operates through the Boston–Washington, DC corridor wears black livery with scarlet piping and a scarlet post-horn embroidered on the left breast. (Of course, they only wear it at Elysium or while making a delivery to an Invictus elder.)
• Belts and sashes provide another form of identification. They are popular because they are easy to see, and you can combine them with livery to show more than one form of membership at once. Sashes, belts, cummerbunds and similar accessories are often colorcoded to show rank or membership in a particular group. For example, in Florence, the First Estate’s formal dress code includes a colored sash for clan membership, with details of embroidery indicating a vampire’s age or Status in the covenant.
  Most recently, a few factions have begun using colorcoded belts to show proficiency with a Discipline or other difficult skill they value highly. The practice comes from the famous color-coded belts of karate, by way of neonates joking that a vampire “has a black belt in Majesty” or the like. Most elders who hear of this new custom disapprove of it — not because they dislike borrowing from popular culture, but because they think it unseemly and imprudent for any member of the First Estate to tell anyone he is not yet a Master of a Discipline. Why advertise weakness?
• Other clothing accessories turn up now and then. In Hamburg, The Invictus Prince admired the Chinese Imperial civil service. He imitated the mandarins’ custom of showing rank through a button on the cap, from plain ivory for a neonate accepted in the covenant with no other distinction to a golden button set with rubies for his Primogen Council members. The famously academic and arcane Invictus of Prague, on the other hand, wear a hooded cope of black velvet on formal occasions, with the border and lining color-coded for various ranks, much like the copes worn by students receiving their doctoral degrees.
• Jewelry is one of the most frequently worn means to show rank and achievement. Rings and brooches are especially easy to wear, but the First Estate also uses cufflinks, watch chains or other ornamental chains, bracelets, buckles and other sorts of jewelry. A few Princes even wear genuine crowns. Most Invictus jewelry tends toward the unobtrusive, though — but not because the covenant values restrained good taste. Until recent centuries, the aristocratic standard was to show all the magpie flash and glitter you could afford. However, spectacular jewelry attracts attention from mortals, and the First Estate doesn’t want that sort of attention.
  Of all items of jewelry, rings are preferred the most by the First Estate. Rings have a long history as utilitarian tools of power, as well as ornament: for example, seal rings, by which illiterate aristocrats showed they really had sent messages written and signed by someone else. Any Invictus with an important position owns a personal seal ring, with which he stamps all correspondence. Rings also offer many choices for showing favor or disfavor — based on which rings a Kindred wears, on which particular fingers.
• Medals overlap with jewelry, of course, but the material doesn’t matter so much. Plenty of Invictus Knights proudly wear an Iron Cross for some martial deed. While many Invictus medals copy mortal originals with crosses, sunbursts, palm leaves and the like, the covenant also draws upon vampiric images. The Golden Fang is a common award for valor. Bats and wolf-heads are common images too, and the red of blood is naturally a favored color. The Prince of Madrid recently awarded the Scarlet Wolf with Golden Fang cluster to the coterie that destroyed an elder who had become a rampaging revenant.
  Modern militaries often use ribbons — small, colored rectangles — instead of the fancy medals of the past. Of course, The Invictus doesn’t like this. As it Embraces decorated military veterans, however, they want to keep their ribbons. Philosophically, The Invictus finds it hard to deny any vampire the awards and honors he gained in life, so, even though military ribbons mean nothing to the First Estate’s own hierarchy of Status, they are showing up more often, on the uniforms their owners wore in life — and the ribbons receive respect. An achievement is an achievement. Invictus militias also now copy the custom of using ribbons to show how long a Kindred has been a member in addition to particular skills such as sniper training or Masquerade cover-ups.
• Patches and badges embroidered or sewn onto clothing can show either a special deed or membership in a group. They are less obtrusive than livery, copes or even sashes: if a mortal sees some guy with a patch of a leaping stag and crescent moon on one shoulder, she probably guesses the guy belongs to some sort of club. She won’t have any clue that he died a century ago and belongs to the Most Noble Fellowship of Artemis. Because patches are unobtrusive, they are becoming more popular in the First Estate as a way to show off membership or awards in less formal settings.
• Traditional tools often form the regalia of Kindred office. When The Invictus has its way, these tend to be the tools people used centuries ago. Never mind that nobody’s used a quill pen for more than a century: the Official Chronicler carries a pen case of horn and Silver, containing a goose-quill pen, Knife, blotter and a phial of authentically medieval irongall ink. The Sheriff is lucky if he receives a pistol (single-shot) and powder horn as his tokens of office, instead of a saber or Roman fasces. Invictus Princes sometimes carry archaic symbols of power such as the orb, scepter, sword, scales or — for a bluntly honest assertion of his role in forcing order on fractious Kindred — a knout.
• Heraldry remains common in Europe as the ultimate in splendidly feudal assertion of rank. Many New World Invictus like it too. In a few cities, Invictus officers carry actual shields painted with personal heraldic symbols. More often, Invictus members wear their “achievement of arms” on a surcoat, jacket or badge.
  As with mortals, the basic design — the escutcheon — is a shield with a variety of geometric divisions, animals or other images. (The clan symbols are especially common, but only a Priscus or similarly exalted elder would use that device alone.) A full portrayal of the achievement of arms frames the escutcheon with a mantling of fabric, branches or something else that drapes. The achievement of arms also includes a ribbon bearing a motto, a helmet above the shield and animal or human figures as supporters to either side of the helmet.
  Typically, Invictus members can design their own achievement of arms, once the Prince gives permission for such an honor. In some cities, however, The Invictus appoints a coterie as a “College of Arms” to design appropriate images for Kindred of merit (though the recipient can suggest elements and can approve or reject a design). An achievement of arms may change over time, as new rank or deeds call for some symbol of honor to be added to the panoply.
  In some cities, The Invictus also allows members to inherit an achievement of arms from their sires or more remote ancestors. Local bloodlines might all use the shield of their powerful and respected inceptor. If a respected elder suffers Final Death, the childe who inherits her achievement of arms receives a high honor.

Gifts

Gifts form another part of Invictus etiquette. An Invictus courtier not only knows when to give, and what, but how to receive a gift and respond to it. As usual for the First Estate, the rules are informal and sometimes ambiguous. Propriety, discretion and good taste simply don’t reduce to a formula. A Kindred who mechanically follows a rule or imitates what another vampire did will make a fool of himself.

Occaisions for Gifts

The Invictus honors major religious and national holidays as expressions of tradition, if for no other reason. Any of these holidays can become an occasion to offer a gift. Birthdays and Embrace-Nights are trickier because they are personal anniversaries. Anyone who offers a birthday or Embrace-Night present shows she has a personal connection to the recipient or a close professional relationship — or she wants one.
As usual, this rule has its exceptions. In some cities, all Invictus are expected to offer greetings to the Prince on the anniversary of his Embrace, just to show respect. This also reminds the Prince of just how many Invictus are in his city, and that they all pay attention to him — a typically multi-layered First Estate message, combining flattery, promise and threat at once. Most Invictus, however, will just send a card to make their point.

Appropriate Gifts

Invictus gift-giving never involves anything too practical. Boons, hunting territories and corporate stock are transferred as part of business and political patronage. An ideal gift expresses esteem, without formally placing the recipient in debt.
Jewelry, for instance, makes an excellent gift. For the last 150 years or so, women have worn more jewelry than men, and the First Estate follows that fashion, but male vampires still wear rings, cufflinks, tie tacks, watchbands and a few other items. Jewelry is expensive, so it advertises the giver’s wealth and Status. Jewelry is also small and easy to store — no small matter when you accumulate presents for centuries. You can show you like the gift by wearing it where other Kindred see it and know from whom the gift came. Or, you never wear it — and show your contempt. If worst comes to worst, you can sell the jewelry for emergency funding.
Works of art are another safe choice. Sometimes, The Message from a work of art is simply, “I can afford this.” Invictus members who patronize the arts develop an enviable and reliable source of gifts.
A superior gift of art has some connection to the recipient. For instance, an icon of Longinus is a tasteful, if somewhat predictable, gift for a Lancea Sanctum leader. An icon that shows Longinus with the recipient’s face would be blatant flattery — though an especially egotistical Sanctified might expect this. A poem written in a Kindred’s honor is an excellent move in the Danse Macabre, if it’s a good poem. Portrait paintings are somewhat personal. Only an intimate would give a portrait of himself. Giving a portrait of the recipient still suggests a close connection.
Vessels make a risky gift. Some Kindred like to drink from mortals with particular features, such as blonde girls, football players or service station attendants (there’s no accounting for taste). Offering a mortal “treat” shows you took the effort to find the right person, and make her disappear (or at least ensure she won’t remember becoming a victim). Feeding, however, is extremely personal. Procuring a vessel to order shows you know a vampire’s most intimate desires and want to satisfy them. It’s a lot like being a pimp. Some Invictus find such attention flattering. Others consider it presumptuous in the extreme.
Mortals often give presents of clothing, even though few like to receive it: so often, the implicit message is, “I couldn’t think what to get you, so I got you socks.” Kindred feel much the same way. In the First Estate, you do not give socks, a tie, a blouse or anything else so practical, unless you know it’s what a vampire really wants. Once in a while, an elder may give every Invictus in the city a matching jacket or blouse, but that’s not a gift; it’s a command to wear a uniform at the next Elysium, to remind other Kindred of the First Estate’s unity and power.
The best gifts have some connection to a Kindred’s hobbies or interests. Just as with mortals, such a gift shows the giver cares enough to know something about the recipient. On the other hand, such gifts are less personal. For instance, giving a first edition of Oliver Twist to a Prince who likes Dickens shows effort, expense and awareness of the Prince’s interests, but the gift isn’t intimate. It’s a gift of thought, rather than passion.
Rank and wealth matter when selecting a present. A cheap gift — cheap for your own income, at least — suggests you don’t care very much about the vampire you give it to. If the recipient has higher Status than you, an insulting gift could be dangerous. Certainly, you won’t improve your own reputation. A higher-ranking Invictus seldom spends much on gifts for a younger and lower-Status Kindred, because the higher-ranking Invictus honors the recipient by noticing her at all. A present from a high-Status Invictus cannot be too modest, however, or The Invictus looks like a cheapskate.
Once again, though, the rule has its subtleties. Especially among high-Status Invictus, sometimes a gift is meant as a veiled insult. No successful member of the First Estate would do something as crude as giving a velvet Elvis painting to an art-collecting Primogen. Giving a copy of a painting instead of the original, though, would show some contempt: it suggests you think the collector can’t tell the difference or doesn’t care. Costly but ugly jewelry hints that you think the recipient is a philistine who only cares about the price tag, and lacks real taste.

“Nobility is in the blood we take and the blood we keep, the blood we spill and the blood we seek.” — Proverb of the Invictus

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Walking the Line

Following the rules of Invictus etiquette is a sure way to avoid ruffling feathers and can impress vampires in high places. Then again, not everybody wants to avoid Notoriety, and too much approval from above can lead to Suspicion of toadying.
A clever vampire may make calculated forays into impolitic behavior just to make sure he’s noticed. It’s a dangerous game but can be charming if well played. It’s all a matter of gauging the local scene and figuring out how far you can go without losing control of the situation. Many a roguish youngster can step into the spotlight through inadvisable conduct — but only those who carry themselves with aplomb when all eyes are turned their way will survive.
There is a saying among the Daeva of The Invictus: “A lovable rascal is just a reject with good timing.”

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Tokens of Fealty

Some Invictus like their clients to show some visible sign of their subservience. At one extreme, tokens of fealty may be formal, elaborate and blatant; for instance, all the squires of a particular Knight may sport identical face tattoos, an overcoat with the Knight’s achievement of arms on the back, a pistol on one hip and a Bowie Knife on the other. Less obtrusive tokens of allegiance include rings with a particular design, a pin, a particular brand of wristwatch or a special handshake to use with other clients. Sometimes, as in the latter case, a fealty token is just to help fellow clients recognize each other, and may be hidden from other Kindred. More often, though, the point of a fealty token is to let other Kindred know about the relationship, to advertise the patron’s influence. Most Invictus prefer unobtrusive tokens of fealty, for reasons of taste and to make sure the mortals don’t notice. (Those face tattoos, heraldic overcoats and weapons do tend to make people ask questions.)

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Salutary Chastisement

Here are some of the punishments The Invictus metes out to the disrespectful, the shirkers and the mutineers. Truly severe offenses, of course, bring Final Death: these punishments are for lesser offenses, when one’s elders and betters still believe one may learn improved conduct from the experience.

• Flay the offending Kindred and roll him in salt.
• Burn off the offending Kindred’s hand.
• Beat the Kindred with a wire lash, so the welts form a chessboard on his back. The character may not heal the wounds until the Prince finishes a chess game. If the character moves, tipping over a chess piece, he receives the same punishment the next night.
• Spend a week doing scutwork for a ghoul or mortal. For a Master of the Night to serve a servant is utter humiliation.

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The Power of spectacle

People in power have always put on a show as a way to assert their power and dazzle the masses. Pomp and glitter make leaders seem grander than they really are. A big display warns rivals not to challenge you and entices the common folk with an implicit promise of the favor you could give them. A big show on civic or religious holidays also gives a chance for leaders to associate themselves with the myths and rituals that bind society together, from Throwing out the first pitch on Opening Day to lighting the tree on Christmas Eve. Plus, people simply like a spectacle. Entertain them, and they might not think too hard about what you do for them. Or to them. It worked for the Roman emperors with their gladiatorial games and chariot races; it worked for Hitler with the Nuremburg Rallies. It works for The Invictus, too.

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Customary Clan Sashes

The Florentine Code is the most popular system for showing clan membership. This code assigns the following colored sashes to each clan:
Daeva | red and gold
Gangrel | red and brown
Mekhet | indigo and Silver
Nosferatu | black and green
Ventrue | purple and gold
In some cities, influential bloodlines select their own colors or add a third color to show their distinction from the parent clan. This is far from universal, though.

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