Custom is never absolute - it is a weapon wielded absolutely by those in power. Kindred society was founded upon the Six Traditions, a code of social "law" defended since the Dark Ages (and even before according to some Kindred historians). Although the deathless Kindred are static, unaging creatures, their customs are highly situational. The prince interprets these customs according to circumstance, and if he is wise, enforces his interpretations ruthlessly. The words of each dictum change little over the years, yet each generation sees them exploited in new and innovative ways.
These six laws - the Traditions - are the universal legislation of the Camarilla and provide the source of much of the tension between the global offices of the Ivory Tower and the local Princes. Justicars point to the First Tradition, the Masquerade, as justification for the assumption of previously unknown powers to protect the Camarilla. Princes counter with the Second Tradition, Domain, and remain resolute in their authority over their domains.
Interpretation of the Traditions and customs on how a Prince enforces these laws in a local domain are informally called the Courtesies and the Intrigues.
All Camarilla neonates are expected the learn and understand the Traditions. Ignorance is no excuse when it comes to a violation of one of these precepts. These laws are absolute; any violation of them is met with swift and severe retribution.
While most ordinary people cannot easily prove the existence of vampires, they may still suspect such monsters exist. Fear often prevents them from voicing what they suspect. Society may shun those who openly profess such beliefs. For Victorians, superstition holds strength. While science inexorably drives unseen horrors further into the shadows, even the most jaded urbanite may still sense their presence. Educated gentleman may scoff at fantastic tales in the safety of their brightly lit drawing rooms, but they will no doubt look over their shoulders on the carriage ride home.
In this atmosphere charged with the frisson of suspicion, a solitary vampire exposed as a monster may reveal the vast conspiracies of the Un-Dead. Secret societies can survive only when they remain secret, after all. At a time when the war against the Sabbat is at its height, this Tradition demonstrates the greatest difference between their two societies. Kindred believe that revealing the existence of vampires to the mortal world would be disastrous to civilisation itself. Victorian Cainites contest that vampires should take their rightful place as the masters of the night and, thus, contest for supremacy in Camarilla domains. Since beliefs in, or at least suspicion of, the supernatural is so pervasive, many childer are willing to endure the tyrannical whims of ruthless princes if it will keep them safe, keep them secret and keep them secure.
For these reasons, "shattering the Masquerade" is the most serious crime a Kindred can commit. Not surprisingly, it may also be one of the easiest accusations a prince may use to slander his enemies. Openly using supernatural power is the most overt transgression, yet a prince may claim that maintaining social contact with mortals or aspects of mortal society may threaten the safety of his city. Communicating with the Sabbat may be considered as violation of the Masquerade as well but only if the elders aren't (demonstratively...) guilty of such activity. It is also currently fashionable for a romantic Kindred to take a mortal paramour - the threat of discovery makes the pleasures of living flesh and blood even sweeter. Toreador tell tragic tales of lovers who were discovered and destroyed.
Those who reveal the powers of the Blood seal their own damnation, for they are then hunted by their own kind and destroyed. Victorians are ruthless about enforcing the First Tradition. There is no clemency for those who erase all evidence of their transgression, for the deed itself shows the amorality of the fiend who committed the crime. Superstitious mortals may choose to forget such horrors, but Kindred rarely forget them, especially if they can destroy an enemy with such punishments. Thus, Victorian vampires must not only hide breaches of the Masquerade from mortals, but also be thorough enough to hide their transgressions from other vampires. A fool who commits this crime once may be careless enough to commit it again. Because of the mysticism of the age, the deadliest dangers vampires face from breaking the Masquerade don't come from the threat of human retaliation - they come from their elders' sense of "justice."
During the Long Night, a vampire could justify killing another creature of the night simply because he trespassed on his domain. Since the largest cities now host a score or more of the Un-Dead, these struggles for territory are no longer practical. Instead, the prince is first among equals. In the Victorian age, a city or region under the protection of a prince becomes his domain immediately upon "taking the throne." Elder vampires cannot make claims to territories other than the ones surrounding their havens without the blessing of the prince. In fact, assigning a domain is one of the surest ways for a prince to recognise those who support his princedom. In these assignations, he makes certain elders responsible for certain territory. And what he can give, he can also take away.
Elders may also consider "spheres of influence" as within their domain, particularly if they correspond to the neighbourhood around their havens. For instance, a Brujah elder may be granted domain over transportation and shipping along a stretch of river, or a Malkavian's mastery of medicine may extend from his an aegis over a hospital or sanatorium. Childer rarely hold such privileges - and if they question this system, they will never get them.
Some wise princes have begun to recognise certain realms as the domain of a particular clan. "The salons of this city are the domain of Clan Toreador," a Degenerate may opine, "because they have always been ours." Similarly, when Robert Peel first established the London constabulary in 1829, the Ventrue of London united to define the police as part of their domain. Any attack on a police officer was thus defined as an attack on the London Ventrue, a tradition that continued for decades. Every vampire of the chosen clan shares in the obligation of protecting its clan's domain; a Kindred who denies this call to arms should not look to his clan for support or favours.
Within the Victorian Camarilla, a would-be sire not only needs to obtain the permission of her own sire before creating a childe, but also her prince. This reflects more than just the need to ask if another vampire can exist in the city. The progeny must be worthy of inheriting the lineage of the clan. if the childe falls short of this ideal before he is "released" by his sire (as defined by the Fourth Tradition), he may be destroyed. In many cases, princes and primogen may see a childe as a resource to their goals before the creature is even Embraced.
As princes justify seizing absolute power over their domains, they enforce their interpretation of this dictum with a brutal convention: the scourge. Kindred existing on the outskirts of a city are granted the right to scour the surrounding countryside looking for vampires who would hide from the prince. Gangrel are expected to perform this duty whenever they hunt outside their city. It is an ancient custom, one as old as the First City, but some recalcitrant young Gangrel believe it to be a new convention. When they are older, no doubt they may take offence at such crass exploitation. Perhaps this and other Camarilla expectations of the Gangrel may fall out of fashion as a result.
If a vampire is found who has not presented himself to the prince and cannot prove an accepted lineage, he is to be brought before the prince and primogen to accept judgement. Such affairs are often short-lived, resulting in "society" destroying the offender. The huntsman who found the criminal and brought him to justice his then praised. This is perhaps analogous to a hound being valued more than a mere lapdog. The practice encourages all childer to obey the Traditions rigorously, if only for the sake of their own survival.
A sire is accountable for her childe until she is "released," typically when she is formally introduced to the prince. Victorian vampires may require their progeny to wait for this occasion for several years (a remarkably long time by some standards). During this time, the childe should take risks and make sacrifices for her clan when called to do so. Should she stray, the prince is under no obligation to recognise her rights, and other vampires may kill or feed from her as they see fit. Of course, doing so invokes the wrath of the sire, so it is a privilege that is rarely invoked.
When the childe is released, she is formally referred to as a neonate. Even then, she must continue to uphold her obligations. In a sense, her obligation to her sire is complicated by her obligation to her clan. The requests elders make may be as simple as regularly patrolling an area of domain, investigating possible violations of the Traditions, delivering correspondence personally or even representing an elder at a social gathering far from a safe domain. Vicious elders may demand that childer perform tasks that skirt the limits of the Six Traditions; if the neonate "strays," the expendable tool is then discarded or broken by Camarilla justice.
How well a neonate answers to the demands of elders influences her status within the clan and the city. The most difficult requests test a Kindred's loyalties or create a conflict of interest. If a Kindred's sire has ambition, her prince may need to quash it. As a result, a neonate may be favoured by her sire yet hated by her prince. She may take a great risk for the elder of one clan, yet earn the enmity of another. These conflicts between coterie and clan and between one's clan and one's prince define the very character of Victorian vampires.
A vampire travelling to a new city must present himself to the prince (and, in some cities, to an elder or primogen of his clan as well). Victorians fulfil this observance often with strained and calculated formality, accompanied by a recitation of lineage and ancestry. The largest cities may demand visitors introduce themselves to the prince upon their first night (and possibly even certain elders within a week). Many Kindred maintain regular correspondence with the elders of cities they intend to visit, preparing themselves for such eventualities. Formal letters of introduction, calling cards delivered by minions and meetings arranged at high society functions all encourage social mobility - and survival.
The traveller who is ill prepared risks his very unlife. If a rebel flees a city and survives, he may be destroyed in the next domain he visits because he hasn't prepared a proper introduction. If the prince is overwhelmed by duty, he may appoint a primogen to receive visitors in his stead, leading to further loss of status if the visitor cannot figure this out quickly enough. Discouraging neonates from travelling freely keeps them in their proper place within a city's hierarchy.
Paranoia heightens these tensions when the Kindred of a city fear the Sabbat. A newcomer may be mistaken for an enemy or, at the very least, a spy or sympathiser. If the task is not performed quickly enough, a prince may invoke the Second Tradition to harry, hunt or punish the transgressor. A prince has a right - nay, a duty! - to question any who enter his domain uninvited. He may even refuse hospitality, particularly if he holds some bias or grudge against a given clan or the childe of a certain sire.
Ancient vampires are above such concerns. They often consider themselves immune to this obligation because they do not acknowledge the prince's authority over them. Independent vampires, such as Ravnos and Giovanni, may flout a prince's authority, especially is they're only "passing through" his domain. Autarkis quietly defy such rules, not only forsaking the privileges bestowed by hospitality, but even tempting fate by risking their own destruction. Pitiful childer who were Embraced and abandoned remain ignorant of such distinctions, until the scourge finds them and forces their complicity - or destroys them utterly.
In its original meaning, this Tradition gave a sire the right of destruction over his progeny, as upheld by Kindred custom. Victorians have extended the word "elder" to include princes as well. Thus, the prince may call for destruction of other Kindred within his domain if they have violated one of the Six Traditions. If any other vampire destroys one of the Kindred without holding the Right of Destruction, it is an act akin to murder. Of course, this applies only to Kindred and, more specifically, those recognised by the Right of Accounting.
Status weighs the scales of justice. The higher the status or generation of the Kindred, or even his clan, the swifter the prince's hounds are to find their quarry. Traditional Kindred have taken this as license to destroy autarkis and anarchs with impunity. A wise prince does not tolerate the existence of these outcasts, for he then vitiates his own Right of Destruction.
An eye for an eye, sayeth the Good Book, and a tooth for a tooth. A prince is as strong as his sense of righteous vengeance; this, he must slay those who challenge his Traditions. All who hear this call have an obligation to assist the huntsmen in a swift and brutal exercise known as a blood hunt. Victorian Kindred know that only a prince may invoke this "Lextalionis." The honour is not yet accorded to elders - and certainly not to ancillae.
Spreading across a city like a net, the city's Kindred track their quarry. Because the speed of communication and travel are limited in the Victorian Age, the hunters must be swift. If they are delayed in the slightest, it is possible their prey may escape. Some princes have come to consider this "sport" fashionable and, thus, invoke it regularly to keep their huntsmen in practice. Yet, even in the most ruthlessly patrolled domains, the event often becomes little more than a deadly way to run an errant Kindred of the Camarilla of town, demanding that he never return.
Efficient slayers are praised as the prince's hounds. For many Brujah, Nosferatu or Gangrel of doubtful lineage, it is their clearest opportunity to be esteemed as more than mere Rabble, Sewer Rats or Animals. While the Masquerade is still observed, the lower classes regard these occasions with all the passion of an English foxhunt. On those few occasions when the pretu is caught, the monster is hauled before the prince for trial, torture or immediate execution, depending on the character of the prince. For all the claims of civility of the Victorian Camarilla, when a prince is at his worst, the distinction between the brutality of a blood hunt in the heart of London and the monstrous practice of impaling bodies on spikes in a Transylvanian tirsa becomes academic. The Beast Within maintains many guises, yet the face of brutality remains unchanged.
The excesses and brutality of the Victorian blood hunt are currently all the rage, yet some wonder how long the practice will endure. For now, princes exploit their strength, citing precedents of Lextalionis as their rationale. And as one would expect, that same excess, combined with the low status of childer and ruthless interpretations of the Six traditions, had convinced many childer to pursue alternative to serving the Camarilla. Faced with injustice, neonates may secretly conspire with more independent vampires - or fall prey to the recruiting efforts of the Sabbat.
