The doors of the Moore House were unlocked, and the way to the chapel was open. As always, one single candle lit the whitewashed room, stood on the altar. The flickering light threw odd black shadows on the walls. The altar itself was covered with a simple white cloth, and a blindfolded and cuffed man knelt before it, his wrists chained to the table. He didn't make a sound.
Sidor had been extremely clear about what would happen if he made a sound.
Sidor's herd were all volunteers, too. He was perfectly happy to donate them to the purposes of a Mass. It was amazing how they lined up.
The Bishop of the Sanctified was stood in the sanctuary, his clerical collar worn at his throat. He didn't bother with any of the other trappings that some churches did. In everything, he followed a very simple, pragmatic view. If a mortal had walked into the Moore House, they might have considered it a rather disturbing funeral parlour with an odd library in the basement, but they would not have thought it the Headquarters of a group of very religious vampires.
The First Tradition was essential. And Sidor, besides, was an ascetic. He did not indulge in pointless trappings of authority that he did not need. Anyone who had to wear a hat to call themselves a Bishop was no Bishop.
He waited for them, his congregation- and any others who wanted to drop in and see if the occasional rumour about the Spear enjoying human sacrifices was true.
It wasn't, but Sidor did appreciate the value of morale.