Post by Tami on Feb 11, 2007 22:45:58 GMT -5
The Prince
For time out of mind, vampires followed Darwin's law: Only the strong survive. Those who had the mettle to seize power and the strength to hold it would rule, and so it was. Vampires styled themselves as warlords and nobles, controlling whatever territory they could hold, living in uneasy truce with their mortal and Cainite neighbors, and ever seeking to expand their holdings and herds. In the cities of the ancient world, this often proved disastrous, as vampires battled for trade and feeding grounds.
In the elder nights, the strongest vampire in each city or region claimed domain over it and used whatever means necessary to keep his control over it. As time went on, traditions sprang up around this claiming and controlling, and certain responsibilities were either tacitly assumed or forcibly taken by the one in power. The Camarilla set down and enforced these ideals over the centuries following the Renaissance. In 1743, a London anarch published a pamphlet decrying the elder society of Kindred, breaking the Masquerade in a most flamboyant manner. The Camarilla responded quickly, first by covering up the incident ("A most remarkable work of fantastical fiction!") and destroying the anarch, and then by formally acknowledging the position of prince. The office is still held by many vampires in these nights.
The prince is, to put it simply, the vampire who has enough power to hold domain over a city, codify the laws for that city and keep the peace. Such a position is typically held by an elder, for who but an elder has the necessary personal charisma and power to take and hold domain in a metropolis? In some small towns, younger vampires may be able to claim domain in the same way, but their claims are rarely respected by the coteries of the cities. On occasion, strange circumstances have placed younger vampires in a position to rule cities, but few such upstarts manage to hold their titles when the elders appear.
The title "prince" is simply that -- a title given to formalize a role, whether that role is held by a man or a woman. There are no dynasties of vampires holding their cities for centuries on end, no hereditary ascensions. Sometimes a prince may be called by a title native to the land he rules, such as "baron," "sultan," "count" or a less formal title such as "boss." Kindred scholars tracing the origins of the term believe that it had its roots in the Dark Ages, in reference to the lord of the manor, becoming a solid term of address after the publishing of Machiavelli's The Prince.
A prince does not "reign" over a city. His role is more like that of an overseer or magistrate than that of a monarch. He is the judge who settles disputes between Kindred, the ultimate authority on the Traditions as they relate to his city, and the keeper of the peace. Above all, his concern is the Masquerade and its preservation. Whether this means he regularly scours his city for Sabbat or keeps a stranglehold on the wilder elements is up to him. Not every prince realizes or cares that his power is meant to be so informal; indeed, some demand that they be treated like the kings of old, holding "court" and requiring that their "subjects" within the domain attend them as they pass royal pronouncements. Such arrogance can rankle the populace, both disenfranchised youth and irritated elders.
The vampire denizens of a city owe their prince no oaths of loyalty or vassalage. Their obedience depends on their cowardice, and most princes make certain to have some means of reinforcing that cowardice. If a prince's rule is questioned or thwarted, he may call in force to maintain control. However, if there is not enough force for the problem, or he finds himself without allies, his reign ends.
Having followed the protocol demanded by the Traditions, most vampires ignore their prince, or give him half an ear at best to make sure they don't miss anything that might pertain to them. On the whole, Kindred have plenty diversions to occupy themselves with besides listening to their "leader." Some elders, Inconnu and those in a position not to care (such as justicars) find princely announcements alternately amusing and arrogant, the blustering of a younger still impressed with the gaudy trappings of power.
When all is said and done, however, the prince is nothing to brush off. A prince wields vast amounts of temporal power to achieve and maintain her position. Not only does she manage the Kindred affairs of a city, she usually has quite a bit of sway over mortal business. The police, the fire department, construction companies, hospitals, the mayor's office -- all are extremely useful for putting down one's enemies or securing one's hold on a particular sphere of influence. If the prince wishes to squash a gang of particularly troublesome anarchs, she can have a construction company bulldoze their haven in the middle of the day. A Church-sponsored hunter operating out of a local cathedral may find the mayor's office calling to inquire about his church's tax-exempt status. Such influences usually capture the attention of those who might otherwise be inclined to thumb their noses at a prince. It is unwise to anger the one who could have your haven condemned by the zoning board or your phone line "accidentally" cut while a gas main is being dug.
For time out of mind, vampires followed Darwin's law: Only the strong survive. Those who had the mettle to seize power and the strength to hold it would rule, and so it was. Vampires styled themselves as warlords and nobles, controlling whatever territory they could hold, living in uneasy truce with their mortal and Cainite neighbors, and ever seeking to expand their holdings and herds. In the cities of the ancient world, this often proved disastrous, as vampires battled for trade and feeding grounds.
In the elder nights, the strongest vampire in each city or region claimed domain over it and used whatever means necessary to keep his control over it. As time went on, traditions sprang up around this claiming and controlling, and certain responsibilities were either tacitly assumed or forcibly taken by the one in power. The Camarilla set down and enforced these ideals over the centuries following the Renaissance. In 1743, a London anarch published a pamphlet decrying the elder society of Kindred, breaking the Masquerade in a most flamboyant manner. The Camarilla responded quickly, first by covering up the incident ("A most remarkable work of fantastical fiction!") and destroying the anarch, and then by formally acknowledging the position of prince. The office is still held by many vampires in these nights.
The prince is, to put it simply, the vampire who has enough power to hold domain over a city, codify the laws for that city and keep the peace. Such a position is typically held by an elder, for who but an elder has the necessary personal charisma and power to take and hold domain in a metropolis? In some small towns, younger vampires may be able to claim domain in the same way, but their claims are rarely respected by the coteries of the cities. On occasion, strange circumstances have placed younger vampires in a position to rule cities, but few such upstarts manage to hold their titles when the elders appear.
The title "prince" is simply that -- a title given to formalize a role, whether that role is held by a man or a woman. There are no dynasties of vampires holding their cities for centuries on end, no hereditary ascensions. Sometimes a prince may be called by a title native to the land he rules, such as "baron," "sultan," "count" or a less formal title such as "boss." Kindred scholars tracing the origins of the term believe that it had its roots in the Dark Ages, in reference to the lord of the manor, becoming a solid term of address after the publishing of Machiavelli's The Prince.
A prince does not "reign" over a city. His role is more like that of an overseer or magistrate than that of a monarch. He is the judge who settles disputes between Kindred, the ultimate authority on the Traditions as they relate to his city, and the keeper of the peace. Above all, his concern is the Masquerade and its preservation. Whether this means he regularly scours his city for Sabbat or keeps a stranglehold on the wilder elements is up to him. Not every prince realizes or cares that his power is meant to be so informal; indeed, some demand that they be treated like the kings of old, holding "court" and requiring that their "subjects" within the domain attend them as they pass royal pronouncements. Such arrogance can rankle the populace, both disenfranchised youth and irritated elders.
The vampire denizens of a city owe their prince no oaths of loyalty or vassalage. Their obedience depends on their cowardice, and most princes make certain to have some means of reinforcing that cowardice. If a prince's rule is questioned or thwarted, he may call in force to maintain control. However, if there is not enough force for the problem, or he finds himself without allies, his reign ends.
Having followed the protocol demanded by the Traditions, most vampires ignore their prince, or give him half an ear at best to make sure they don't miss anything that might pertain to them. On the whole, Kindred have plenty diversions to occupy themselves with besides listening to their "leader." Some elders, Inconnu and those in a position not to care (such as justicars) find princely announcements alternately amusing and arrogant, the blustering of a younger still impressed with the gaudy trappings of power.
When all is said and done, however, the prince is nothing to brush off. A prince wields vast amounts of temporal power to achieve and maintain her position. Not only does she manage the Kindred affairs of a city, she usually has quite a bit of sway over mortal business. The police, the fire department, construction companies, hospitals, the mayor's office -- all are extremely useful for putting down one's enemies or securing one's hold on a particular sphere of influence. If the prince wishes to squash a gang of particularly troublesome anarchs, she can have a construction company bulldoze their haven in the middle of the day. A Church-sponsored hunter operating out of a local cathedral may find the mayor's office calling to inquire about his church's tax-exempt status. Such influences usually capture the attention of those who might otherwise be inclined to thumb their noses at a prince. It is unwise to anger the one who could have your haven condemned by the zoning board or your phone line "accidentally" cut while a gas main is being dug.