Ventrue love titles and offices, although most would never admit to such emotional attachment to anything, much less a sometimes ceremonial appellation. The Ventrue have made distinct two levels of title: local and clanwide. In each case, the highest-ranking Ventrue have the greatest discretion over promoting and demoting others through the ranks. There are no elections, and no position carries any “job security.”

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Most young Ventrue have heard about the Directorate, the shadowy body of 12 or so elder Ventrue that has tremendous sway over the clan. Older Ventrue still remember the older name, the Ephorate, by which the council was known for many centuries. The classical name comes from the ruling council of ancient Sparta. The clan adopted this name in the Renaissance, since the word “senate” had unpleasant associations for them and seemed inappropriate for a body of less than three dozen individuals. Even in the 21st century, the two titles remain interchangeable, although “Board of Directors” or “Directorate” is becoming somewhat more fashionable.
The ephors or directors establish precedent in matters of “clan policy.” Just what that statement means is open to interpretation: Certainly, individual Ventrue princes have preeminent influence over their domains. The clan justicar definitely has her own powers, responsibilities and free will. The Ventrue representative to the Camarilla Inner Circle has his or her own authority as well. What, then, does the Ephorate do exactly?
For starters, the ephors manage several clanwide endeavors and clan holdings. Ventrue have vast monetary reserves spread through banks and secret caches around the world. They own vast amounts of real estate, they hold stock in every major (and most minor) corporations, and they hold controlling interests in more than a few of them. These resources allow them to disperse funds to clan members in need and give them tremendous political and economic clout if they choose to use it. Where a coalition of individual Ventrue might backstab each other into futility or be unable to bring enough resources to bear against a certain situation, the Ephorate can act as a guidance council or lending institution. For example, a coterie of Ventrue wishing to establish a global communications network could appeal to the ephors, not only for venture capital, but also as a board of directors unaffiliated with the network company itself (thereby assuring the petitioning Kindred that their fellow venture partners wouldn’t have undue influence over their own share of the operation). Managing this vast, invisible financial empire alone takes a great deal of their time.
The ephors also choose the clan’s representative to the Camarilla Inner Circle. The Kindred chosen for this great honor invariably comes from their own ranks, although his or her identity remains a secret (as do those of most of the ephors, who work almost exclusively through assistant Kindred and other agents). This influence over the course of Camarilla politics also ensures that all Ventrue take heed of the Ephorate’s will. After all, most of them hope to hold high Camarilla honors one night, be it the title of prince, archon or even justicar.
The ephors also set policy for the clan as a whole, for what it’s worth. Clanwide policy issues usually center around what stance the Ventrue take on various political and security issues within the Camarilla. When the ephors make a decision about such an issue, everyone within the clan is expected to follow their lead. While many Ventrue may ignore such directives easily, the princes, primogen and other visible elders are certainly encouraged to heed them. These policies usually focus on topics such as relations with and actions against the Sabbat, how to check the rising power of the Tremere, what to do about Caitiff and so on. They also attend to more mundane matters, including which party to support in national elections, certain stocks that should be traded at certain prices and other economic and political concerns.
Perhaps the Ephorate’s most important power is its role in arbitrating intra-clan disputes. When Ventrue disagree (a common enough event) or one of them violates any of the myriad clan traditions and guidelines, the Directorate has established a process for resolving such problems. The local clan structures take responsibility for handling the smaller disputes, but when serious matters come up or two potent Ventrue collide, the ephors have the power to pass final judgment on the matter. Typical disputes involve conflict over domains and areas of influence. Most of the time, the clan leaders let individual Ventrue work these issues out among themselves — such is the way of the Jyhad. Sometimes, however, the ephors need to step in, especially in very volatile or far-sweeping cases.
Crime is another matter altogether. When a Ventrue breaks with clan tradition, he risks not only his dignitas, but his very place within the clan and even his existence. The two most grave crimes are slaying a fellow Ventrue and failing to heed a call for assistance. Both events come to the Directorate’s attention so rarely — although they undoubtedly take place with relative frequency — that the body has full authority over all such cases. When charges are brought, the accused comes before the ephors, or possibly only some of the ephors, to stand trial. The ephors preside over the trial from behind a curtain or two-way mirror, or within darkness so that the accused never sees them or hears them speak. An advocate questions the witnesses and cross-examines the accused. The trial seldom lasts more than a few nights, and the ephors may even resort to the use of vulgar Disciplines to find the truth of the matter if the matter is in doubt.
Having established the truth, the Ephorate can administer one of several punishments. Final Death is a dire option, since no clan can claim such power over its members, at least according to the literal wording of Camarilla Traditions. In reality, the ephors have ordered more than a few Final Deaths over their long history, although they have never admitted to it. The ephors can strip a Ventrue of his title, his holdings and his boons, or even impose a term of imprisonment (sometimes with a stake through the heart for good measure). In extreme cases, the Ephorate can demand that the criminal Kindred agree to a blood bond either to the aggrieved party or an influential and responsible clan member.
All of these temporal powers aside, the Directorate’s most important role is not so easily quantified. The directors set the tone and stance for the entire clan. Their philosophies, leadership styles and political stances are discussed and debated through the ranks, influencing the majority of the Ventrue to some degree or another, as an example of how (or how not to) conduct one’s affairs. As the most powerful members of the most resourceful clan, they have contacts everywhere, servants almost everywhere and direct influence in global arenas. Between them, they can accomplish grave feats since their combined power — especially vis-a-vis the mortal world — rivals that of a major government. The fact that few Ventrue even know who sits on the council makes their potential power all the more fearsome and mysterious. If ever a group deserved the title of secret masters, it is the Ephorate.
Of course, such grand ideals and practices fall far beyond the scope of almost any given Ventrue’s sphere of influence. A neonate whose sire denies his attempts to blackmail a police detective is none too likely to attract the Directorate’s attention, and few ephors care if some 13th-generation Blue Blood has chosen to flout one principle of dignitas. As with all matters political and the very nature of the Ventrue’s collective empire, individuals matter far, far less than the moment of the greater body.



Clan Ventrue has many venerable members who do not sit on the Board of Directors. Some are princes, others primogen, but all have garnered great respect within the clan. Likewise, they are much more public figures than the ephors, at least within Ventrue’s own ranks, due to their lack of secrecy. No doubt some of those whom the world recognizes as strategoi are in fact ephors as well. The world, of course, has no way of knowing. Directors or no, the strategoi are the honorary “generals” of Clan Ventrue, as their name suggests. They carry out the policies that the secretive ephors hand down, enforcing the Directorate’s will. For the most part, they are the only Ventrue to have direct, possibly even face-to-face, contact with members of the Ephorate.
The strategoi effectively run the operations of the Ephorate’s quotidian concerns. Each is responsible for a different part of the Ephorate’s dominion. In heavily populated regions, this responsibility can apply to just a few hundred square miles, while it can cover a number of whole states in the wide-open plains of the American and Canadian West. Strategoi usually make their havens within their territory, often serving as a primogen or esteemed elder. Strategos princes are more rare, since their duties to the Kindred of their domain occupy too much time and make it hard to fulfill their other obligations as well as they should.
From night to night, the strategos oversees Ventrue business and political affairs in his region in addition to tending to his own needs and dignitas. In times of crisis, the strategos must step in and enforce the Directorate’s policy findings, whether regarding Sabbat incursions, anarch riots or Cainite power plays that threaten Ventrue holdings. They have no official power over princes of course, but they do have the Ephorate’s weight and influence behind them, which provides them with resources even beyond their own considerable assets. Strategoi can also help arbitrate intra-clan disputes and bring the rare rogue Ventrue to the Directorate’s attention. All in all, the strategos’ powers are somewhat analogous to those of a Camarilla justicar, although extending only to clan Ventrue, of course.



The strategoi themselves seldom dirty their hands with detail work. They determine the best manner for effecting the Ephorate’s will, then delegate the ecessary tasks to their lictors. If strategoi can be likened to justicars, then the lictors are their archons. Many younger members refer to them as troubleshooters, the individuals in a corporation who move from department to department, fixing any problems they come across. The lictors do the same thing throughout the entire Ventrue clan.
Individual lictors tend to specialize in particular types of problems. Some have expertise in financial matters, others are leaders, and still others have proven diplomatic records. When a Ventrue elder or consortium in a particular city has troubles it cannot handle effectively on its own (something as a group they are always loath to admit, although it takes only one esteemed Ventrue to call in a lictor), they call upon their strategoi to send help. That help usually comes in the form of a lictor. More often than not, she is enough. Her mere presence as a representative of the strategoi (and thus the ephors) lends a certain cachet that can help rally the other clan members to solve the problem together under the lictor’s direction — something they probably could have done on their own if they were able to put aside their petty differences.
The title of lictor is much prized, especially among relatively young (under 200 years) Ventrue who seek a way to increase their dignitas. More than one lictor has stepped into a city full of warring Ventrue and wound up assuming the title prince when all was said and done. Likewise, a troubleshooter is on the slow-but-sure path toward the ranks of the strategoi or even the Directorate, by definition. With opportunity comes risk, though, and the troubleshooters have their share of that, both political and material. Doing the strategoi’s dirty work can make one some powerful enemies, and rallying the troops in the face of bloodthirsty Sabbat or anarchs is always risky. For those who survive the experience, however, holding the title of lictor is a sure step toward greatness.



The Ephorate maintains a loose network of contacts and “field operatives” around the world. These Kindred are referred to as both tribunes and agents at large, and they serve as the ephors’ eyes and ears in Camarilla (and sometimes even Sabbat) cities. They have no official powers or duties, and they often do not even acknowledge their title publicly (a hard thing for any Ventrue). The tribunes tend to be young Ventrue who the lictors or strategoi have decided show promise. They not only have a strong track record and reputable dignitas, they also have a history of respect for their elders and the Ventrue traditions, at least some of the time.
Most nights, tribunes do nothing in their titular capacity. Sometimes, though, they receive messages from the ephors (passed on by strategoi) that they must deliver to prominent local clan members. In turn, they report to their superiors what takes place in their city. Often, the city’s tribunes call upon a strategos for help rather than the city’s elders doing so. Not bound up in their own dignitas as city leaders, they usually have no qualms about asking for help when it’s needed. A tribune occasionally calls for assistance when it’s not necessary, but few make the mistake twice. The local and clanwide repercussions for such a mistake usually force the wolf-crying tribune out of office and possibly even the city.
Perhaps most important of all, a tribune must be on hand to assist any lictor or strategos who comes to town. Although tribunes often hold other ranks and titles within both the Ventrue clan and the Camarilla, they are expected to put them aside and serve the Ephorate (and its entourage) first and foremost. Doing so can sometimes make local clanmates jealous and angry, but the ephors typically reward the loyalty their subordinates show them handsomely.



Not every Ventrue who distinguishes herself becomes a member of the elders’ collection of pawns and catspaws. While the goals of the Ephorate and its supporters are admirable (in its estimation, at least), few Ventrue wish to tie themselves so closely to the whims of their sires and elders.
The peerage — individual members are known as peers — is a loose but recognized body of Ventrue who have accumulated any but the most minor degree of esteem within Camarilla or the Ventrue social hierarchy. It takes more than the acceptance of the prince to join the peerage, but not much. A sanction by a member of the Ventrue hierarchy, whether local or clanwide, is enough to allow a Kindred to join the peerage’s ranks, however. Additionally, a Ventrue peerage is present in almost any city where a Blue Blood makes her haven.
As a group, the peerage exists to further the Ventrue traditions and the concept of dignitas — nothing more. By conferring status upon “good” members of the clan, the Ventrue reward those among them who toe the line and make names for themselves without causing undue schisms among one another. For example, a young Ventrue who influences the outcome of a local zoning hearing successfully in order to preserve a city’s Elysium might be extended an invitation to join the peerage. An ambitious Ventrue who usurps his sire’s interests in his corporate holdings would not.
To this end, the peerage is nothing so much as a social register, a club of Ventrue with impeccably clean (if not impeccable) reputations. Still, the Ventrue place great value on such things — it allows them to set themselves apart from the uncouth among their ranks.

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Lately, it has become fashionable to refer to the clan organization within a given city as if it were a corporation and assign various business-inspired titles to individual Ventrue. In actuality, this appellation convention is merely an update of the more traditional nomenclature that Ventrue have used for centuries, based upon classical Spartan and Roman political titles. The business model actually reflects very well how Ventrue operate, but many venerable Ventrue — especially in the Old World — still use the traditional names.
Additionally, local assemblies of Ventrue are known as consortiums, although this word has no formal meaning. Some elders use it in place of the word “coterie” when speaking of cells of young Ventrue, while other Blue Bloods use it to refer to any group of two or more Ventrue undertaking a given endeavor. The word has only come into vogue recently — within the past decade or so — because it sounds so much more genteel than “faction” or “conspiracy.”



The Gerousia (loosely translated as council of elders) or Board effectively adjudicates Ventrue concerns within the city. It usually consists of the eldest, most experienced Kindred in the given locality. If the city has a Ventrue prince, he or she likely sits as the head of the Gerousia. Otherwise, the clan primogen or other highest-ranking Camarilla title-holder rules the council. One joins the council only by invitation and majority approval by the sitting members. Once a Ventrue ascends to the Gerousia’s ranks, he cannot be removed except under the most dire of circumstance (as determined by the clan ephors).
In a corporate capacity, the Gerousia oversees Ventrue business and political interests within the city, much like a holding company. Indeed, some Boards do incorporate under just such missions. This organizational structure leads not only to managing funds and taking positions, but also monitoring the individual Ventrue’s investments and their activities. As a general rule, Ventrue do not compete directly with one another for the same contacts and resources. The Gerousia acts as arbiter of any local conflicts of interest that might arise. If it so chooses, the council can demand that a clan member cease his or her efforts in a particular area, and it can enforce the demand as it sees fit. For example, should two Kindred make a play for influence within the local steel industry, the Gerousia might hold a hearing to determine who had the rights to said influence, assuming that one of the Ventrue brought the matter to the group’s attention. For the most part, though, individual Ventrue are loath to turn to the Board, because doing so implies that they are incapable of asserting their own dominance.
The Gerousia holds two types of meetings. Monthly clanwide meetings are usually held the first Tuesday of the month. Every Ventrue in the city should attend these conferences, because the clan discusses new and old business, hears complaints and reports, and the Gerousia passes down any messages, edicts or announcements from the upper reaches of the clan hierarchy. The Gerousia also holds private meetings on an irregular basis as needed, in which the members discuss greater political or financial issues as well as more discreet clan affairs.
Despite the honor and dignitas associated with serving on the Gerousia, the council has very little formal power. It cannot order other Ventrue within the city to do anything. Rather, it can, but it has no capacity to directly punish those who disobey. Indirect punishments abound, however. Those who go against the Board’s wishes find themselves outcast — and greeting the sunrise in the most extreme cases. Without the Board’s protection, other Ventrue can and will assault the anathema Kindred’s financial and political holdings. Peer pressure is the Board’s greatest weapon, and Board members wield it almost dictatorially.



The highest Ventrue rank within a city’s hierarchy, the praetors or managers almost always have a seat on the Gerousia as well. Each city has one praetor at most (if it has one at all) who might well be the prince or Ventrue primogen as well. As the alternate title, manager, suggests, these powerful Kindred are responsible for guiding and managing Ventrue affairs within the city. In order to attend this lofty position, a Ventrue must perforce be not only an elder, but an elder with unassailable dignitas and wide-ranging support among the peerage. Praetors hold their position indefinitely, and only a strategos or ephor can remove one from his post.
The praetor maintains with his own funds the “public” meeting space where any Ventrue can come to attend the monthly Board meetings. Such a place is usually an exclusive club of some sort, but it can be anywhere the praetor chooses, such as a hotel’s function space, a skyscraper’s boardroom or even the den or office of her own haven. The meeting place’s atmosphere and appointments reflect directly upon the praetor, so most spend lavishly on providing a luxurious and impressive facility. The praetor also chairs these Board meetings and acts as a tie-breaker in all Gerousia votes.
Other than these few responsibilities, the praetor has no other official powers. Most often, however, he is a Ventrue of great influence within the city, which he may well bring to bear in matters concerning the Board. Merely achieving the office provides him with a sizable boost to his dignitas. As the person at the center of all Ventrue affairs in the city, he has access to people and information that many other clan members do not. Furthermore, the rest of his clanmates often turn to him for leadership in any crisis, and they tend to follow his instructions without question (or without too many questions, in any event).



Below the praetors lie the aediles or supervisors. These Ventrue aid the Gerousia and praetor just as supervisors assist managers in a business. They keep tabs on what the lower-ranked clan members are up to, and they take care of the specifics associated with running a corporation, such as managing nightly financial issues, investigating potential new investments or ensuring that all the bribes have been paid on time. The aediles act as spokesmen for their superiors, delivering instructions, requests and orders to the rest of the clan. They also serve as lieutenants in a crisis, helping to organize and lead the troops into whatever metaphorical or real battle is at hand.
The aediles are usually experienced ancillae, individuals who have a proven track record and have established their own business and influence domains within the city. They have resources enough to help them carry out their duties without needing help from anyone else. The praetors alone or Gerousia as a whole can nominate new aediles, and there is technically no limit to the number a city might have. In practice, there are seldom more than three even in the largest cities, and usually only one or two. After all, in a city with seven Ventrue, making half of them officers practically defeats the purpose.



Down in the proverbial trenches are the questors or foremen. These Kindred are but one rank above the common Ventrue. Youngish, with some experience, a Ventrue receives promotion to this rank in recognition of some significant achievement that brought him and the clan dignitas and improved fortunes. The questors assist the higher-ranking Ventrue by performing basic tasks that keep their investments running smoothly. Such tasks can be anything from opening an account with a brokerage to hiding the bodies of newly deceased union bosses. Often aediles assign them tasks with little or no explanation. Questors who do their job well can look forward to advancement within the clan as well as personal opportunities they might not have perceived otherwise.
The questors sometimes take pleasure in flaunting their position over the common Ventrue. Although they have no real authority over their lesser clanmates, they can rightly point out that they have the ear of the elders whereas most neonates have no access at all. Questors spend their nights accruing favors and good will with their superiors, who occasionally throw them a bone to gnaw on. Of course, Ventrue bones tend to be things like hundred-thousanddollar stock options or important government contacts, so a foreman can do quite well by playing the game.



At the bottom of the pile stand the eiren, otherwise known as associates. No matter who their sire might be, young Ventrue have a long way to go before they gain real respect within the clan. The word eiren comes from the Spartan word for inexperienced youths, not yet matured by battle and experience into true men, which is exactly how many Ventrue see their younger clan members. They have excellent breeding and valuable skills brought from their mortal lives, no doubt, but they are ultimately nothing more than fledglings who need experience to temper and shape them into true Ventrue.
Eiren have little respect, but, then again, they have few responsibilities. Although sometimes referred to as associates, these young Kindred do not have any official jobs or tasks that they must perform. If a questor or higher-ranked Ventrue asks them to do something, they may choose to refuse, of course. The Ventrue can think of no better way to ensure that one never leaves eiren status, but no one has the power to force the neonate do anything. Most, however, do what they’re told, all the while trying to find some way to extend their own influence and increase their dignitas. One must work within the system to ascend its ranks. As a rule, the Ventrue do not reward mavericks.



Naturally, not every Ventrue is a lackey or a scion of a given city’s Board. Those Ventrue who invest with the Board might not hold a title within the organization, but that does not make them janitors. For those who do not attach themselves to the Board, unlife continues as it would for any other Kindred. Indeed, many Ventrue who place themselves outside of the local and clanwide hierarchy rise to great station in the Camarilla. Likewise, nothing prevents them from accumulating accolades on their own. Ventrue do not force their hierarchy upon their members; they simply encourage their members to avail themselves of its vast resources and make their own contributions.