The Reclamation of Benacia

[Shyriath]

Although it has not yet been decreed into law, as far as I know, the Sphere of Influence idea will presumably still be going ahead. Ever since Scott first mentioned it, the seed of an idea has been growing in my head, and after some internal debate I think I will be following through with it.

Once upon a time, years ago, I was Count of Benacia. I poured a considerable amount of work and imagination into the island, resulting in a conlang, extensive descriptions of its culture and history, and, when I was Kaiser Mors IV, a multipart story to set the stage for my reign's end. (The death was not quite as awesome as that of the most recent Mors, but it was still very dramatic.)

But I drifted away (and back, and away), and the EZplague ate much of the material in those days before things like that were on wikis, and I went to focus on Sunderspray. And it appears that for a period from late '08 to mid '09, SyrWilliam was Count, and did a number of things that I have yet to read up fully upon, though from what I have read I'm not sure how much of it I approve of. (And it also appears, from post-trawling, that at some point in between the time I left it and the time SyrWilliam took it up, some other nations wanted Benacia and Shireroth reacted rather badly to the demands... partly because of the work I'd put into it. I did not know this until just now, but it's really a rather touching thought.)

But anyway- Benacia is now one of the Imperial Lands, and could therefore benefit from being brought into the sphere of House Mortis. Therefore, I am making... preparations...

[Shyriath]

Note: The dating on a number of these seems illogical, and may be a result of the EZplague. Also, I have deliberately left out the "Benacian Tale" and "Death of a Kaiser" story posts from this list, mostly because I'm pretty sure I already have as complete a version of them as I could gather, which I will restore as much as possible and re-post as time allows.

-An article on Benacian naming traditions, dated 2/24/05.

-What appears to be an abortive attempt at a recwar, 4/28/05.

-A list of notices, which includes my appointment as Count of Benacia. No date attached to that one, but it falls between notices dated 5/25/05 and 5/28/05.

-A pre-B0O0O0/\/\ist Benacian creation myth, dated 7/19/05.

-A recwar between the Knights of the Burning Claw and the Hunters of the Stag, 10/5/05.

-Some musings about magical usage by the Knights of the Burning Claw, in tandem with similar systems that Fax had been devising for the followers of Horjin in Naudia'Diva, dated 10/24/05.

-A discussion on the New Feudalism, in which someone says I should get Benacia back and I express my surprise that I ever lost it. Dated 10/31/05.

-The founding of the Duchy of Naudia'Diva under the New Feudalism, in which Benacia was involved. Dated 11/15/05.

-A blurb on the Knights of the Burning Claw, 1/17/06.

-My abdication as Count of Benacia, 10/8/06.

-The Duchal Decree in Straylight in which I am made Count of Sunderspray, dates 12/3/07, mentioning also that "Benacia as it was is now officially released to whoever wants it, and whoever will respect its history."

-SyrWilliam becomes Count on 10/20/08.

-The forum of the County of Benacia under SyrWilliam.

-SyrWilliam is fired on 11/5/09 during an Oustfest.

-Benacia is placed under the direct control of the Duke of Goldenbrook, 3/16/10.

-By Imperial Decree 443, the Duchy of Goldenbrook is dissolved (3/16/10), and most lands under its jurisdiction are transferred to the Imperial Government; by virtue of the previous note, Benacia would be under neither Greater Lakhesis nor Monty Crisco, and would therefore be included in this.

-Imperial Decree 465 states that "All counties that are not currently assigned to a House shall be directly administered by the Kaiser"; this makes Benacia one of the Imperial Lands, 5/30/10.

[Malliki Tosha]

Good initiative. I'm going to try the same with Amarr.

[Erik Mortis]

Should we try to trade Sunderspray for it? That way we help our odds, and get actual land for it? Or do you wanna try for keeping both?

[Shyriath]

Er. Hmm. Well, I want to keep developing Sunderspray as well, really... in fact, the two are going to be pretty tightly linked.

I think that, for the time being, Benacia will remain merely in the sphere of influence. But later on, I may ask to have them switch status, so that Benacia would be directly under Mortis, and Sunderspray within the sphere of influence. Or, if by that time the Imperial Government really owes me a favor or something, I may try begging to have them merged into one county.

[Shyriath]

The following is from my notes, and is itself a copy of a post I once made. This document probably represents the only remaining source of information about the Benacian language; any other notes I might have made about it were either on paper and now lost, got deleted from past hard drives, or were eaten in the EZplague. Unfortunately, from what I remember about it, what is shown here is an early form of the language, and does not show later developments.

The Land and People of Benacia

Foreword: by Shyriath, Count of Benacia

In my time as Count of Benacia, I have had occasion to travel around my new fief and discover what there is to be seen. Indeed, I hoped to accomplish specifically this; for no lord can rule effectively over zir lands without first gaining a basic knowledge of the lay of the land, and of its resources, and of its people. And for such a small, ultimately backwater region of Shireroth, I have found that Benacia possesses quite a number of local peculiarities of note.

I am forced to confess that the local character of this place has, in fact, become so dear to me that I hope never to leave it. Even should I cease to be a Count, reduced once more to a mere peasant under my lord Duke of Brookshire, I hope beyond hope that it will be within his mercy to permit me to remain in residence here. For I never tire of striding the streets of Port Benacia, or of going out onto the plains and watching the herds of the kallamyn browsing peacefully upon the plains, or even of the long climb to the top of the Sky Pillar atop the Hill of Tuné.

I would not presume to think that many beyond the island would delight in, or even care about, this place I now call home. Yet I believe that, even if only for the sake of completeness of knowledge, someone should attempt to document the features of Benacia, though perhaps not in the level of detail it deserves. Thus I have entrusted the task to one of my good friends, Tanna Otúle ta Maikhenen, the Lady Mayor of Port Benacia. Her knowledge of the island is second to none, and no one has a deeper interest in bringing the wonders of Benacia to the world.

The Vegetation and Lay of the Land

Benacia consists of one island, approximately 46 miles long (east-west) and 28 miles wide (north-south). The island lies apart from the rest of the Benacian Archipelago, separated from them by the wide expanse of the Cosimo Sea to the west and south; it also lies closer to the mainland than any of the other islands. The smaller body of water separating Benacia from the mainland is locally known as the Bay of Tenra.

The island is shaped very much like a shoe, resting on the heel with the toes pointed up. The east of the island (the “ankle” and “heel” of the shoe) forms a blocky shape, which is of generally higher elevation; the highest point on the island, the Hill of Tuné, lies in this area, near the front of the “ankle”. The top of the “shoe”, as well as the front of the “ankle”, consist of rather rocky coasts, often tending toward sheer cliffs; further south, the terrain is only slightly hilly, and is quite flat enough for agriculture; the coast, though sometimes indented, are otherwise normal beaches. In the furthest south of this part of the island lie the grazing grounds of the kallamyn, Benacia’s most economically important animals.

The vegetation of the “ankles” and “heel” is primarily determined by the prevailing winds coming from the southwest. More rain falls on the windward side of the hills, causing the western portions to tend toward moister, thin forests, especially in the north; while on the eastward side, the vegetation tends more towards grasses and shrubs and slightly drier soil. The difference between the two vegetation zones fades toward the southern end of the island, where groves of trees become interspersed with the grasslands. In both this and the grasslands further north, conditions are fairly ideal for agriculture; the hills in this area are flat enough for farming, and little vegetation needs to be cleared.

Extending northwest from this whole eastern area is a much lower and flatter peninsula (the “toes” of the shoe). This region has few to no hills, and drainage tends to be poor; water collects easily into small pools across the area, aided by the presence of karst formations (“potholes” in the landscape caused by the weathering of subsurface limestone). Marshes tend to be common, and the vegetation that subsists in this area tends to be adapted to damp conditions. Some saltwater intrusion from the ocean makes the water here brackish, especially near the shores, and so many of the plants also have adaptations to more saline conditions. Near the center of the peninsula, however, a few freshwater bogs exist. Throughout the peninsula, trees typical of marshes and swamps grow relatively thick.

Fauna

It is certainly not possible, in a summary of this size, to even begin to describe the animal life of Benacia. There are too many animal species, and not enough space; and at any rate, many of the endemic species here will be familiar to readers in the rest of Shireroth (or at least Brookshire and Yardistan). Thus, I have chosen only a few of the more unusual local species to write about, since these are of the greatest interest, and rightly so.

Kallamen: The kallamen (plural kallamyn, sometimes dubbed the “quadricluck”) is one of the most awe-inspiring animals in Benacia, and on of the most important. As previously mentioned, the kallamyn are native to the southeast of the island, where they graze in the moister lowlands.

Each kallamen, in adulthood and in childhood, resembles nothing so much as a giant, four-legged chicken. (The existence of octoclucks on nearby Muad’dib leads me to believe that the two species are related in some fashion; perhaps, in ages long past, some of the animals used as quarry by the devotees of Horjin managed to escape their island. There are several other species that have parallels to beasts native to Muad’dib, as we shall see.) Their adult plumage tends to vary between white and gray, with some few beasts tending toward black; brown also occurs, but is rare. If there is any variation in color on one beast, it tends to be the case that the underbelly is lighter in color; both sexes have the same range of colors.

A kallamen begins life hatched from a five-foot-long egg. In its childhood, it greatly resembles a domestic chick (though of course much bigger, and with four legs), having soft, fluffy yellow down. It stands about four feet high at the shoulder upon hatching. The chick takes about ten to twelve years to mature, during which time it remains with its mother in a herd consisting mostly of adult females and children (adult males associated with the herd tend to spend their time scouting at the edges; herdless males remain solitary). By adulthood, the kallamen darkens to its adult color; it is fifteen to twenty feet high at the shoulder, and thirty to forty feet long. Its plumage has darkened to its adult color, and it gains a sharper beak; males also have extremely sharp talons and a comb on their heads. If female, the individual will join a herd, either her mother’s or a nearby herd; if male, he will wander solitary until he is accepted into the guard of a herd. Males guarding a herd mate with the females and protect them and the resulting young; usually only one or two eggs are laid at a time. Each herd usually operates over a definite range, but keeps a certain spot as its “home”, usually a grove of trees; herds consist of up to 100 individuals, about 20 of which are male and the rest females and children.

Kallamyn are armed with sharp beaks, and also fairly dangerous claws (all the more dangerous because, unlike normal chickens, they have four limbs; more claws with which to strike, but also giving the ability to rear up), but they are not pure carnivores. What animals they do eat tend mostly to be in the form of insect hives dotting the plains, which they peck open; otherwise, they mostly eat fruits and roots. Herds tend to forage together on the plains during the day, but retreat to the shelter of local tree groves at night.

However, few truly wild kallamyn are found in these days, though by no means can even the tamed ones be considered fully domesticated. The members of most herds have alongside them local people, who train them from youth to be of use to humans and to carry them (or other loads) around on their backs. These riders, the kallamenrámi, traditionally have traveled with the herds as they move, but nowadays have established methods of ranching them on set properties. However, it is still customary for each kallamenrám to control their beasts from atop a male guard, using the males’ natural herding tendencies to direct the rest of the animals.

From this long-standing tradition has arisen the widespread use of kallamyn as riding steeds, draft animals, and of course also food (the drumsticks from one beast, it is said, are capable of feeding a family for a week). Kallamen chicks, particularly, are valued as personal steeds; the Count owns one for his own use. The Count has also been considering using the adults to carry soldiers into battle, as he makes plans for his Knights of the Burning Claw.

Ruala: One of the more unique creatures to be found in Benacia, the ruala (plural rualo) is an almost entirely domesticated species, found in homes all over the island.

The rualo are small, mammalian creatures commonly kept as pets. Never growing more than six inches long, these rodentlike beasts are furry and roly-poly, with blunt faces and short snouts. They come in a variety of breeds, some smaller than others, and with sharply varying differences in fur color, but most tend toward red or reddish-brown. In most breeds the legs and tail are all naked of fur; the tail is usually prehensile, able to grasp objects (though not able to do much more than that). The limbs tend to be long, thin and mulitjointed, and end in four dexterous fingers each. Each ruala possesses a long, sticky tongue like a frog, which it uses to capture food.

In olden days, the rualo were arboreal insectivores; they scurried and leaped from branch to branch, catching flying insects with their tongues. Originally domesticated for pest control and for their tracking abilities (they have good eyesight and sense of smell), all rualo now live in human homes, unless they are stray. Benacian homes, in order to accommodate the beasts in conditions they find comfortable, are usually built with exposed rafters in which a ruala can nest and catch any spiders it finds trying to make webs.

Rualo are very intelligent pets, and very loyal to their owners, and so can be trained do a large number of tasks, in a manner similar to that of training a dog; but they are more independent, and occasionally even mischievous. There have been documented cases of rualo taking household objects and switching them with others. However, this behavior seems to be entirely playful and the switched objects are almost always put back in their proper places later… even if the actions were not discovered.

Rualo are naturally monogamous, and adjust best to a home when paired with a mate. They will usually produce litters of two to three young every year (the local SPCA reminds you to keep your ruala spayed or neutered for this reason!) and live for approximately ten years.

Parránthu: The parránthu (plural form same as singular) are yet another of the species that seem to have a connection with Muad’dib. These creatures are a type of marsh-dwelling wererat that dwells in the wetlands in the west of the island; they are rarely seen, and even more rarely seen for MORE than a split second. As a result of the rarity of encounters with these beings, little is known about them.

What is known indicates that the parránthu, unlike normal rats, are very large; most sighted (presumably adults) are in the general range of four feet high. They stand on two legs, although not upright, and usually have brown fur. Like the wererats of Muad’dib, they are carnivorous (they have been observed eating smaller animals), and aggressively territorial (they attack any lone human venturing into their favorite marshes). But unlike most lycanthropes, which are generally solitary, the parránthu seem to live in packs, and are rarely found alone, especially when hunting. No nests or other habitations have ever been seen, but parránthu have been observed entering holes dug in some of the drier patches; it is thus likely that their colonies are all underground.

Most disturbing of all, perhaps, are several accounts of the parránthu that describe them as wearing tatters of cloth, or adorning themselves with necklaces and bracelets of teeth. One recent report even claims that several of the creatures were sighted with spears made from sticks and sharpened bone. Although they have never attempted to attack a human settlement, the parránthu remain a poorly-documented threat in the marshes of the island.

Vyssere: It is unknown whether these (plural vysseri, just as often called dragons) are the cousins of the dragons of Muad’dib; after all, dragons come in many varieties, not all of which are of close kinship. However they DO bear a remarkable resemblance to the Count, who is a dragon himself.

The Benacian dragons, who call themselves the teghashe, are another species only rarely spotted by humans, and until recently they were believed to be a myth. It was only two years ago that several fishermen, passing by the coasts near the Count’s estate, witnessed one of the great beasts flying overhead. It was reported that it landed on the estate, and as a result most people believe that the Count has dealings with his larger cousins. Indeed, after the sighting it was he himself who provided most of the established information about them, although he has refused to answer questions about his relationship with them.

The vysseri, it is reported, dwell mostly in grottos whose entrances lie underwater. The dragons themselves are adapted to dealing with this environment, usually having webbed hands and feet, a long, sinuous shape, and requiring exposure to moisture to keep their scales healthy. However, they cannot breathe in water, having only lungs, and in fact must eat, sleep, and rear their young in the dry portions of their caves, and are still mostly land-based creatures. Most adults grow to some fifteen to twenty feet in length, and (when standing up on land) are approximately eight to ten feet in height. Most are blue to bluish-green in color, although there are a few pure greens (such as the Count himself).

Vysseri are not adapted particularly well to any one environment, but are competent in many. They can walk on land, are passable short-distance swimmers, and are capable of flight. They generally only stay near the rockier coasts of the island, however, and most of their hunting is done in the form of catching fish (their favorite food) or, occasionally, eating the local seagulls. When not foraging, they generally remain in their caves; though highly social, they are mistrustful of humans and prefer the company of their own kind.

A vyssere begins life hatched from an egg. Development and maturity come only after a lengthy period (exact length unknown), during which the hatchling learns to hunt, speak, and use its “abilities” (see further below). Dragons mate for life, but are not always monogamous; quite a number of families involve one dragon of one sex, but two or three of the other. Couples produce one, or rarely two eggs at a time, but litters are widely spaced; the biological cycles of the females permit them to be fertile only once every fifty years or so. Most vysseri live to be between eight hundred and nine hundred years old, with a few attaining a thousand.

Vysseri are, as adults, at least as intelligent as human beings, and often excellent abstract thinkers and profound philosophers. They have a religion which centers on the eternal struggle between Light and Dark (though neither is, in their view, particularly good or evil) and the result of each side drawing forth Creation from the Abyss, the realm of possibilities. They believe themselves, as the first children of the World, to be divided into light and dark as well, and young dragons are classified either as light or dark depending on their “abilities”.

The “abilities” to which I have referred, however, are of a rather unique kind. Although little has been revealed, they appear to have some sort of magical power related to dreaming and imagination; they way in which this power manifests itself determines the Lightness or Darkness of a dragon. Though rarely demonstrated directly in front of humans, it is believed that they have used it in the past to make themselves less visible, or to distract human attention away from themselves.

Even though the Count refuses to speak of his connection with the dragons, a tale has sprung up that may explain matters (see Folklore below).

Civilization and Landmarks

The Large Cities: Most of the population of the island lives in the less marshy east, particularly along the coast. The largest city on the island, and the capital of the County of Benacia, is the splendid Port Benacia (in the local tongue, Khilán Tase, the Great Port). Though not a bustling metropolis compared to Shirekeep, or even Brookshire town, the Port sees a considerable amount of sea traffic and is reasonably prosperous. The city, which houses almost a third of the island’s entire population, is centered around a deep natural harbor on the eastern coast that makes it ideal for shipping. On either side of the inner harbor is a wide commercial plaza, full of interesting shops and other attractions; the two halves of the plaza are connected by a bridge across the water. At the tip of the innermost harbor is the splendid Government House, a large administrative building done in a tasteful classical style, which houses the offices of the Count and the ministers that make up the island’s governing apparatus. The Government House, reportedly, was also once the seat of the short-lived Benacian Commonwealth, which comprised Shireroth, Hyperborea, and Machiavellia; most of the buildings of downtown Port Benacia date from this period.

The second largest city is Tenra, but it covers less than half the area of the Port, and contains only a fraction of the population. The town is not a major port, but maintains itself as a favored tourist location on the island. This popularity with sightseers comes primarily from two sources; first, the city itself is very picturesque. While more civilized than surrounding viilages, Tenra maintains the charming Old Benacian architecture and lifestyle more fully than the Port; the city is quaint, but well-kept and hospitable. The second reason for its popularity, however, comes from its easy access to other popular sights in northern Benacia, including the Port, the County Estate, the rustic farming villages of Atán and Rassun, and, most importantly of all, the Sky Pillar of Tuné.

The Sky Pillar: By far, the most unique and awe-inspiring sight in all of Benacia is a magnificent construction set upon the Hill of Tuné, the highest point on the island. Rising from the crown of the Hill is a high, cylindrical tower, constructed from a mysterious silvery metal, surrounded by four narrower towers that connect to the main tower by a series of narrow flying buttresses. It has apparently existed for several thousand years, ever since local record-keeping began; its origins are unknown for certain, but local myth seems to credit its creation to the Technomaezji of the Khaz Modanian Empire. Believed by the more superstitious locals to hold up the roof that stretches over the world, it has thus become known commonly as the Sky Pillar.

The entire structure is about a mile and a half tall, but only about fifty feet wide, and is topped by a crystal dome. Although the four surrounding towers seem to play some role in supporting the structure, it is clear that even they would be incapable of the task of keeping such a tall, thin tower upright if they were made of ordinary materials. Aside from the mysterious nature of the metal that was used to make the structure (which is unusually light and strong, and has strange electromagnetic properties), examination of the support towers’ interiors reveals strange devices within that presumably help keep the main tower upright. It was originally believed that they were anti-gravity devices, similar to those that keep the famous Flying Islands of Jasonia airborne, but it is now believed that they instead produce an energy field that interacts with the strange metal and produces a strengthening “stiffening” effect.

The purpose of the main tower, however, remains a mystery. It can be entered through a doorway at the foot of the tower; a spiral stairway provides access to the upper reaches. The tower is not divided into floors, except at the top; most of the structure is hollow, except for a column in the center. This column, as well as the inner walls of the Sky Pillar, are lined with an interconnected web of strange devices; some are similar to those in the support pillars, but others remain utterly mysterious. Study is ongoing, but is mostly limited to external observations; disassembly of any of the devices has, thus far, been forbidden by order of the Count, for fear that it could interfere with the support of the Pillar and cause it to collapse.

The top of the Sky Pillar, underneath the crystal dome, is a wide, circular chamber. The central column from below pierces the floor and ends in a large, spiky golden sphere that dominates the center of the chamber. The machinery from the inner walls below creeps up the underside of the crystal dome like vines until they reach the apex, then come down and connect to the top of the sphere. Like the rest of the devices in the tower, the sphere’s function is mysterious (some believe it to be related to energy projection); but it seems to be the most important object in the entire Sky Pillar.

For obvious reasons, many visitors to the island wish to visit this magnificent and mysterious structure, and is a major draw for tourism. But for equally obvious reasons, access to the interior of the Sky Pillar must be carefully regulated, lest its ancient technology be damaged (or activated) and horrible consequences make themselves known. Casual visitors inside are thus carefully watched by guards, and are not permitted to touch anything; but they are permitted, if they so wish, to go as far as the top floor, where a magnificent view of the surrounding countryside is to be had.

Recent rumors suggest that the Count has stepped up study of the technology in the tower, and that he has managed to have some of it removed safely. It is supposed that he plans to use the devices to aid in building up the defense of the island.

The County Estate: Although the offices of the Count and his government lie in Port Benacia’s Government House, the Count does not reside there. He visits the Port often, for business and pleasure, but he dislikes the idea of actually living among the hustle and bustle of the largest city under his dominion does not please him; he generally prefers the quiet and solitude of the countryside. Thus, when he was chosen as Count by the Duke of Brookshire, he sought a location near enough to the city for easy access, yet far enough to untroubled by its busy streets, and in a scenic, rustic location.

He found the perfect spot in an old, abandoned manor house and some adjacent property just outside the village of Rassun, a few minutes north of Port Benacia. Falling in love with the property, he dubbed it the County Estate, the personal domain of the Count of Benacia. The stately old manor house has been restored to its former state (not to mention improved with some modern conveniences), and the surrounding lands kept pristine and scenic.

The core of the manor house was originally constructed some five hundred years ago in the Old Benacian style, but was added onto during the Commonwealth period. The old core consists of a keep-like square building; the four “walls” contain all the rooms and chambers, and surround a central open space containing a scenic garden and pool. The keep, which in the traditional style is constructed not of one type of stone but of bands made up of different colors (giving it the appearance of stratified rock), has a rounded tower at each corner.

The Commonwealth-era additions consist mainly of three wings added onto the north, east, and west faces of the keep, running perpendicular to the outer walls. The walls of each wing were done in the rounded-face brick typical of the period, although (in order to match the walls of the original keep) they were also done in banded colors. However, the unlike the old slate roof of the keep walls, the wings have characteristic metal-and-glass roofs. A similar roof was also added over the garden in the center of the keep, permitting the sunlight to enter while keeping out rain (water is still delivered to the garden, however, by a series of rain cisterns added on the roof). Adjacent to the west wing is another addition, in the form of a stable; although this once held horses, it currently houses the Count’s chosen steed, a young kallamen chick named Windfeather. Though only a baby, the chick is able to bear the weight of an adult human without problem, and the Count is in the same weight range, though he is more of dragonkind, rather than human.

The south face of the manor house lies only fifty feet from the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea; this reminder of the site of his former lair in Brookshire was probably one of the major reasons for the Count’s choice of this property as his residence. Most of the rest of the Estate, consisting of a few dozen acres, lies to the north of the cliff and manor house; most of it is grassland, but it is dotted with a few wooded hills. The County Estate, being the personal residence of the Count, is not freely open to the general public, but tourists may contact the Count’s secretary and make an appointment to have a guided tour of the grounds and the outside of the manor house. Entrance to the manor itself is available only to those having the express permission of the Count, and can usually only be obtained if one has official business with him (or if one is another noble, or a member of the Imperial Government of Shireroth).

The Southern Villages: Besides Port Benacia and Tenra, there are no settlements on the island larger than small villages and hamlets. Most of these are in the south of the island – in the “heel” of the shoe. Those on the coast tend to be more numerous, and are essentially fishing villages; the Cosimo Sea is known for its abundant populations of edible fish, as well as shellfish. Though hardly designed for the convenience of tourists, visitors to the island would nonetheless be encouraged to visit these traditional settlements. Even if the rustic flavor of the buildings and local speech is not attractive, the flavor of the inhabitants’ baked and seasoned samla (similar in taste to salmon) surely will be.

Further inland, the local villages are based around the herding and ranching of the kallamyn. Though less numerous than the fishing villages, these hamlets thrive due to their ties with Benacia’s most famous animal. Apart from selling their animals as riding or draft beasts, or slaughtering them for food, it is not uncommon during the spring for tourists and locals alike to come to the area in spring to watch the herds. This is the time of the First Foraging, in which the ranchers drive their herds out of their shelters after the end of winter; this is also the time when most the most young chicks can be spotted, having hatched during the winter rest. Some ranches set up small fairs where people can approach the better-trained younglings and pet them, and (occasionally) ride them.

Given the concentration of fishing and ranching villages in the same area, it is no surprise that they often cooperate in a number of ways. As the primary native sources of meat on the island, the southern villages have considerable power for their small population, and constitute an effective lobbying group; the Count treats them very well, recognizing their importance. It is the custom of these villages to jointly sponsor an annual fair in autumn, setting up a large pavilion at the Harbor Plaza in Port Benacia. The fishermen bring their best catches, and the ranchers herd their choicest kallamyn to pens near the pavilion, and the event (though smelly) is one of the major events in the island’s yearly cycle. In recent years, the farmers of the northern villages have set up their own autumn fair on the opposite side of the harbor from that of the southern villages, and dedicate it to their crops. The two sides will usually compete for spectators in a friendly (if often underhanded) fashion, and the competition is driven all the more by wagers on which side will get the most visitors and awards.

The most important of the southern villages is generally held to be Kure, due to its possession of the Shrine of Inner Flame, a religious building dedicated to B’caw. This is the site of an annual sacrifice to B’caw at the time of First Foraging (see further below).

The Western Villages: In fact, the villages of the peninsula and the northern coast aren’t very important to Benacia. The marshy ground makes construction of large settlements difficult, and the construction of roads even more so. Transport across the bogs is a slow and unpredictable process, and most often these villages avoid them by clustering near the coasts and getting their supplies by ship or by coastal roads. The land is not suitable for agriculture, the waters to the north of the peninsula aren’t as plentiful in fish, and the swamps breed diseases more easily. The marshes also house the strange and aggressive parránthu, the great wererats, who patrol the inner swamps, and which few are eager to meet. All in all, few people dwell here, and few elsewhere want to come.

Short of draining the marshes and causing outrageous environmental damage, there are few ways to change the situation. However, the Count has recently put the area to good use by declaring it a wildlife preserve, and has provided more jobs to the local villagers by employing them in maintaining the area… and guarding against its fearsome inhabitants.

Culture

Ethnicity: The Benacians have been relatively isolated from the rest of the world for much of their history, even during their major periods of occupation by imperial powers (Khaz Modan, Machiavellia, Shireroth). Although Port Benacia in particular has maintained links with lands beyond the island in the name of commerce, most average Benacians look on non-islanders as, if not inferior, than at least ignorant of the “proper” way of doing things. They are, however, never hesitant to impart their wisdom to those willing to listen (as the Count, being non-Benacian himself, has had ample opportunity to discover).

Under these conditions, therefore, it is not surprising that Benacians consider themselves to share a certain bond, and they have come to view themselves as a distinct people; indeed, they have done so for millennia. Though official written records of their early history are nonexistant, the tales they tell of their past very clearly indicate a distinct ethnic identity going back to their first encounters with the Khaz Modanians. Even today, when most islanders speak almost as everyone else in continental Shireroth does for normal discourse, they will always refer to themselves not as Benacians (a “foreigner word”), but will use the old word Pennái (singular Penná).

It is, of course, impossible to list all of the things that makes this culture unique, if indeed all such things would even be visible to outsiders. One of the most important ones, the deep connection of the people with the kallamyn, has already been explored; therefore we will examine a few of the others in the following sections.

Families and the Clan System: Although the islanders nowadays live mostly in nuclear families (i.e., mother, father, and children, without other relatives), they maintain an intense interest in genealogy and often keep track of other family lines long after they diverge. In fact, nearly every native person on the island belongs to an association of related bloodlines that is often termed a clan (in Benacian, ta; plural to).

Each person of Benacian descent receives at least two last names at birth, the first signifying the bloodline of the person, and the second signifying the clan to which they belong. Bloodline names are roughly analogous to the inherited last names found elsewhere in the world. However, in Benacia, the bloodline name one receives depends on one’s gender; a son will take the bloodline name of his father, but a daughter will take that of her mother. Another difference between a bloodline name and a conventional surname is that it does not change with marriage; one’s bloodline does not change by marrying outside it, and neither does the name associated with it.

The clan is an altogether different construct. Clan membership is, at least initially, determined by maternal descent from a single ancestor, called the renle (usually a female, but occasionally a male, especially in the case of famous heroes). Unlike a bloodline name, all children of the same mother take the same clan name; it is also customary for the husband to change his own clan name to the wife’s upon marriage, thereby being “adopted” into the clan.

The clans (of which there are at least a hundred), however, are not as much measures of genetic relation as they are social constructs. Of course, all members of a clan are related in some fashion, but a clan does not have the same sense of timeless permanence as a bloodline does. One’s bloodline can never be changed and dates from time immemorial, but one’s clan can be changed by marriage, or by adoption (in certain cases) into a new clan, or even starting an entirely new clan. What the clan does, however, is to foster a sense of society among those who belong to it; most clans provide financial stability to their members, organize social events such as parties and holiday celebrations, and allow businesses owned by clan members to provide discounts to other clan members. Most Benacian children start out making friends within their clan, and these childhood friendships are often maintained throughout their adult lives.

The clans also serve a political function as well. Although the greatest and oldest clans have renli that have nothing to do with one another, most of the smaller clans have ancestors who were formerly of other clans, but later started their own, often due to internal disputes. Thus, some clans are historically hostile to one another, and often diverse clans will form alliances in order to thwart the ambitions of other alliances. In olden days, when clans were more powerful in matters of landholding, clans would raise militias and go to war against each other. While this has not occurred for many centuries now, the political maneuverings continue, especially in the Clan Council, a sort of unofficial legislative body. In this body, which designs and passes recommendations to be sent to whomever is in direct charge of the island (formerly the representative of the Duke of Brookshire, and now currently the Count), the clan alliances have evolved into semi-political factions battling for the ear of the executive branch.

Language: Although less than half of the population now speaks it, Benacia also has a native tongue. Called Penná-kunen by its speakers, Benacian is unrelated to any other extant language; although several old inscriptions have been found on the mainland that are probably remnants of a sister tongue, Benacian is apparently the only living language of its group.

Little is available on the characteristics of the language, and more will likely be published in a future document. It is known, however, that Benacian words consist of syllables that are either open (i.e. consisting of a vowel, or a consonant followed by a vowel) or closed by a nasal consonant (i.e. ending in n, m, or ng). There is a distinction in consonant length in Benacian words. The words kala (a kind of shrub) and kalla (feather) would sound almost identical to an English-speaker, but are utterly different to a Benacian-speaker, in the same way that “cat” and “cad” are easily distinguishable by us. A doubled consonant indicates that the sound is held longer than a single consonant; the result is something like, for example, the lengthened m that occurs when we say “I’m Mary” without pausing for breath in between the words. To a Benacian-speaker, a single consonant is a different sound than a double consonant, even though the two may sound similar.

The “normal” stress in Benacian words is considered to be on the first syllable, even though a considerable number of words have it elsewhere. Stress anywhere after the first syllable is indicated by an accent mark over the main vowel of the stressed syllable.

Stress in words is very important in the formation of plurals of Benacian nouns. When the last syllable of a noun is unstressed, the singular changes to the plural through mutation of the last vowel in the word; for example, kallamen (meaning “quadricluck”) becomes plural by the changing of the e to y: kallamyn. (y is a letter denoting a short i sound, as in “it”.) Each vowel has a similar predetermined plural form.

When the last syllable is stressed, the situation becomes more complicated. Stressed vowels cannot mutate, and instead acquire an i after them, but the exact placement of the i depends on whether the syllable is open or closed. If the syllable is open, as in Penná (“Benacian”), the i simply comes in after the vowel: Pennái. But if the syllable is closed, as in khilán (“port, harbor”), the i comes after the whole syllable and starts a new one: khiláni.

(Oddly enough, one-syllable words behave as unstressed syllables for plural formation purposes. Keep in mind that in ALL plural formation situations mentioned, however, that the words used are in the nominative (subject) case; things get more complicated with other cases. There is also a plural flexion beyond plural, called “collective”.)

Although formerly spoken by the majority of the population, Benacia has declined over the past two hundred years as a result of the influx of mass communication from the mainland. However, local associations dedicated to the reflowering of the local language have managed to promote the teaching of Benacian in schools and the building up of Benacian-language local media, and the Count himself has also taken an interest in preserving this unique characteristic of his island.

Even more rarely used than the language itself, however, is the traditional Benacian writing system. A flowing, almost cursive script, the Benacian letters are considered to be quite beautiful and lend themselves well to calligraphy. Though an in-depth description cannot be made here, it can be said that the writing system is of a type sometimes called a “syllabic alphabet”, in which each basic letter represents a consonant with an inherent vowel attached to it. The vowel can then be modified through the use of diacritic marks.

Unfortunately, the Benacian script is widely ignored by those striving to save the language itself. Benacian is most often simply transliterated into English letters, as it is in this document, since that is the medium best known to the average Benacian. Most of those who still use the script are artists or highly educated persons, although out of tradition, most of the official seals and documents produced on the island still use Benacian words spelled in the traditional lettering.

Religion: If there was ever an independent Benacian religion, most traces of it have long been blown up – er, away, by the advent of B0O0O0/\/\ism and Cedrism in Khaz Modanian times. Benacians, like many others in Shireroth, gather to celebrate La Fiesta De La B0O0O0/\/\, and also have dedicated many other holidays to the Gods.

An unusual local feature of Benacian religion, however, is a particular reverence for B’caw, the God of Spicy Chicken. This is probably most easily explained by the God’s connection with the island’s most famous beasts, although the islanders certainly seem to be devout enough when His other associations are mentioned. Every spring, at the time of the First Foraging, the southern villages will often hold a sort of mini-Olympics in honor of B’caw. The winners receive commemorative coins as trophies, but also win the honor of making a sacrifice of spiced kallamen meat (but only meat; sacrificing live animals is considered unnecessarily cruel) at the Shrine of Inner Flame in the village of Kure.

B’caw has long been considered a sort of patron god by the Benacians, a fact that delights the Count to no end, being also the Head Priest of that god. It is this, perhaps more than anything else, that accounts for the easy acceptance by the islanders of their Count.

However, several non-Cedrist gods persist among the population, particularly in the more traditional south, though they have been reduced almost to the level of nature spirits and superstitions over the rest of the island. Maitun, the goddess of ships and boats, is still worshipped by the fishermen of the coastal villages; it is customary to bring along small carved idols, or painted ceramic pendants, bearing the image of the dolphin, Maitun’s avatar. The several other old gods that are still remembered usually also have animal forms in which they appear to humans, though they retain “true” human forms, as does Maitun herself.

Folklore: Two examples of folklore will follow here; the first modern, the other ancient.

The first is a tale meant to explain the origins of the Count, who, though a wise and gentle ruler, has never been known for his personal openness. It is well known that the Count came from a land called Shirlan, which also had dragons; reportedly, those dragons were very similar in overall appearance to the vysseri, though differing in many specifics. A popular rumor in Benacia is that a female vyssere, visiting her Shirlanian cousins several centuries ago, fell in love with the younger son of a human male. This man was the younger son of a Grand Duke of Shirlan, and a member of the House of Vakanan. The two beings met in the woods, and trysted there beneath the moon, and it is said that the dragoness’ magic, awakened in her dreams that night, permitted her to conceive a child.

The story also says that, discovering that she was with child, she fled back to her homeland in Benacia, where the strange child hatched in her family grotto; he grew up to be smaller than most dragons, standing more upright, less skilled at flying and abysmal at performing the dream-magic. He also learned to prefer, like humans, the wearing of clothes, and also had a certain sense of impatience and burning curiosity that distinguished him from his slow, sluggish-thinking kin. When he was old enough, his mother sent him to Shirlan to dwell in the dragon-cities of Tarakle, where he would have many sights to see; and that was where he grew to adulthood. He also met his father there, and his Vakanan heritage was explained to him.

He remained in Shirlan long after the death of his father, for several centuries in fact, up until the collapse of Shirlan during the Great Confusion. It is said that the remaining dragons there dispersed during the human conflicts that wiped out most of the country, and the child of Vakanan, now a young adult, began his wandering. After many years, he made his way into Shireroth during the reign of Wyltheow I. Settling in Brookshire, he changed his surname to its ancient form of Bukolos. When the Duke of Brookshire granted him the Isle of Benacia as a County, he set up residence on the island once more. Thus did Shyriath return to his ancient home.

It seems rather fantastic for reality; and the coincidence of gaining his own home island as his fief is unlikely in the extreme. And, as said earlier, the Count has never affirmed or denied this account of his origins. But it must be said that he appears extremely uncomfortable when asked about it.

Our second tale is one of the most ancient on the island, and one of the most compelling. The folktale is that of the Syrradan, the Phantom Knight. It is said that in mortal life he was named Sir Pendúra, a knight in the service of the legendary Clan-Lords of Benacia, who rose up against the rule of the Khaz Modanian Emperor.

The rebellion was doomed from the start; even though all the clans united in trying to establish their freedom, they were no match for the awesome might of the Imperial armies. The last stand of the rebel forces took place at the Bridge of Khilán Tase, which crossed over the harbor in what is now Port Benacia (the original bridge is long gone, but the current Harbor Bridge stands in the same place). The Imperial army was attempting to cross from the north, to gain access to the Council Halls that housed the rebellion’s leaders.

The rebel military had been all but decimated, save for a few remaining knights holding the bridge, and these were led by the most valiant of their number, Sir Pendúra. With each Khaz Modanian charge across the bridge, more and more of this last unit died, until only Sir Pendúra remained, and this lone knight continued fighting the charge by himself, unheeding of his own danger. The stories go that he fought for three days by himself, a pile of his slain enemies growing at his feet, until he himself was slain only by one great overwhelming surge. For, like his descendants in later days, he was devoted to B’caw, and had passion for his cause; and as long as he had breath, he refused to let that passion die.

So valiant was this stand, and the sacrifice made by the heroic knight, that is it said that the Emperor himself came to hear of it. Moved by the tale, he came personally to Benacia to honor his slain foe at the funeral, resting the knight’s shield (consisting of a pair of golden wings upon a dark red field) in a place of honor in a specially built tomb. Though the Emperor would brook no further rebellion, he lessened his demands upon the island, it is said that he held a special place for it in his heart forever after. And he permitted Sir Pendúra’s sons to found a small knighthood in honor of their father, in order that Benacia would always have protectors; it still exists to this day, among the members of a small clan that claims Sir Pendúra as its ancestor.

But the knight’s story does not end there. For many years afterward, in the Times of Turmoil that ensued after the end of the Empire, Sir Pendúra appeared again. When marauders from another island landed upon the shores of Benacia, seeking to take the land for their own, it is said that a deep, gray fog rolled across the land. And coming out of the mist, almost as if he were rising out of the sea itself, the specter of a knight followed the invaders onto the shore. His armor was of an ancient style, abandoned since earlier days, and upon his back were two angelic, yet ethereal-looking wings, glowing silver and occasionally with hints of gold, like the device he once bore on his shield. For it is said by the islanders that in his heroic sacrifice so long ago, he had stepped upward on the ladder of Transcendence, and that B’caw had made him an eternal avatar of the Hidden Flame.

The Phantom Knight frightened the invaders into madness, and wrapping them all in his fog, left them wandering about the shore, eventually all to return to the sea, to drown or be rescued by their ships. And from that time, he has protected the Isle of Benacia with all the passion that, even after death, lingers in his heart.

[Erik Mortis]

I would not support a merger. We shouldn't push to merge counties.

But I'm sure we can get both under our/your control.

[Shyriath]

That'd be lovely. But no hurry; I have a story to write about it before things really get rolling, anyway.

[Shyriath]

Night hung over the village of Hure, the cool mists drifting in between the low-lying hills of Benacia. Most of the villagers were asleep, midnight having already come and gone; the pale silver light of the moon illuminated the empty streets in a pale glow, revealing no movement. Little happens in Hure in the winter, before the spring comes, the callamenni are herded out into the fields, and the tourists start pouring in. It was a sleepy place, with little reason to suspect that events of great portent were occurring.

Within one of the larger houses of the village, a secret gathering had been called.

The house itself was an older dwelling, done in stone with thatched roofs; though it must once have been a cultured place, it was partly in ruins. Sitting on the edge of town, it was rarely visited, owned by the head of the clan ta Pennúrissa; once upon a time, they had been a powerful clan, descended from the Syrradán himself, but were nearly forgotten nowadays. The only people who ever came to the manor house were the strange friends and associates of the eccentric clan head, suspicious folk all, and the villagers rarely wished anything to do with them or the house.

Some of these were gathered in the still-intact study of the house, along with their host, Rynnu Pendúra ta Pennúrissa. They were grim types with burning eyes, men and women whose faces carried the deep marks that only absolute devotion and righteous wrath can bring. Their manner of dress was distinctive; not so much strange – most Benacian peasants wore similar homespun garments – as excessively traditional. The Benacian long vest, nowadays worn only on special occasions and in tourism advertisements; the sharp-heeled boots, such as those worn by callamen riders; the religious tokens, kept mainly by the extremely devout, hung on leather thongs around their necks. These tokens, small ceramic discs painted with the avatars of gods, are rarely seen, and most wear only the one with the sigil of B’caw. But the members of this gathering wore many, most of them belonging to less popular deities: Metun, protectoress of fisherman; Alcun, lord of the winds; even Chenrasir, the divine herdsman, whose status as a god was considered almost heretical. These were all old gods, the ancient divinities from before the coming of Cedrism, and of B’caw.

These almost stereotypically Benacian people stared across the table at the other group that had agreed to see them, arriving earlier in the evening. Being visitors to the house, the villagers hadn’t paid them any mind either, lumping in with the other strange sorts that passed through; but these were no friends of the clan head, or his traditionalist associates. They were obviously wealthier and cultured men, dressing in the fashion common among the modern merchants. Their ancestors, taking in the riches that the days of the Commonwealth had brought, had supplanted the old clans in their power to shape events; nowadays, they remained connected with commerce and money and power, following the pulse of modernity in order to maintain their lifestyle.

One of these was the first to speak. “None of us ever expected to come here… unless it were in the form of a coffin.” His style of speech was bland, retaining the peculiarities of Shirerithian English but otherwise unaccented. “Your people haven’t exactly been friendly to us in the past.”

“Ye nin can buh-lame us, citee man,” replied one of the traditionalists, a great brute of a man with dark hair and a beard. His Benacian accent is artificially thick, as if he were trying hard to sound distinctive. “Witha yer pah-wer taykin ways…”

He stopped at a hand signal from their host, Rynnu Pendúra ta Pennúrissa. It was evident who was in charge of the traditionalists. “You’ll parton my frent here,” he stated, in a less confusing accent, which was nonetheless marked by some odd consonantal shifts: a mark of upper-class Benacian. “But of course, he has a point: those of us who wish for a return to the tratitions of our forefathers haff suffered badly at the hants of ruthless commercial interests. Your acceptance of the culture of the outsiters has helpt to destroy that which makes us Pennár.”

The city man scowled. “We choose not to hold to ancient superstitions and outlandish dress styles. We choose not to ignore the world, clinging to old stories…”

“You choose,” suggested Rynnu, “to sell your souls and the history of our people, getting money and comfort in exchansh. You choose to corrupt the young with stories of life in the wide world of the foreigners. You choose to help our monstrous half-human Count erote the ways of life that he does not ant cannot comprehent, with his twistet brain.”

“We are making life better… for ourselves, yes, but for others as well! Bringing knowledge, and wealth, and prestige to Benacia! Trying to make it shine as a beacon to the rest of the world! And Count Shyriath has helped us in that…” the portly man trailed off, as if he had nearly given away some deep secret.

Rynnu smiled unpleasantly. “He has helpt you in that,” he continued, “until now? …Yes, we know of your falling out with our good demon Count.” He leaned forward into the light, revealing a young face, but a hard and calculating one, the face of a man who had lost what he thought was his, and would do anything to get it back. “You see, holding to our tratitions does not mean we are bumpkins. We haff informants… spies, if you will… and we haff been kept appraised of your quarrels. And this is why we callt you here.”

The city man glanced at his surprised colleagues. Offering them a questioning look, he received several nods in reply and sighed. Turning to Rynnu, he nodded. “Very well. Yes, we have been quarreling with the Count. At first, we were pleased with what he was doing; he seems to be genuinely interested in the welfare of the island. But we’ve had significant differences with him over his insistence on enforcing the ban on political parties.”

“Ahhhhhh yes… one of the most sacret edicts of the Kaisers.” The use of the word Kaiser was enough to draw the notice of his men; it was a powerful symbol of rejection. For ten thousand years, the people of Benacia had called the overlords of their island, the distant but all-powerful emperors and the petty kings of that had extended their reach over Benacia, by the ancient title of Thon. The connotations of the word were not merely those of a mortal ruler, but of a nearly godlike master of fate; and ever since Benacia had passed under the rule of Shireroth, the Kaisers had been called by that same title.

“Oh, yes, I dare to say it,” he continued, noting even the shocked look on the faces of the merchants. “The ancient title of respect should not be demeant by placing it on foreign despots. In the beginning times, it was for the High Kings of the island, our own native rulers, that the name of Thon was reserfed, ant I, at least, shall keep that in my heart. …But come…”

“Yes,” replied the merchant, squirming a little. “At any rate, he refused to bend on the issue, saying it was beyond his power to go against the rules of the… of the Kaiser. For a time, when he was made Duke of Brookshire, it was better; he was away on the mainland, and his representative was pliable. But then he came back here, and now… we have no means of speech. We’ve been permitted to talk to the Imperial Ombudsman, of course, but that won’t change anyone’s mind. The political party ban keeps us from organizing in our own interests. Our old rights are being whittled down, and when we ban together to protest, we get thrown in prison. And it’s all the worse because of the new Kaiser…”

Rynnu nodded thoughtfully. The internal politics of the Imperial Bloodlines were complex and strange, and had unpredictable effects. In the chaos that resulted in the abdication of Wyltheow I, and the very short reign of Lacrymosa II, the formerly dominant branch of the Line of Mortis had been largely wiped out, and the head of a junior branch came to lead the bloodline. Shortly after the ascension of Los II, this new primary Mortis line came to settle in Benacia, where they adopted several elements of Benacian culture; and eventually, one of this new line came to the throne as Kaiser Mors IV.

This had been bad for political groups of all types. The Kaiser had kept a close eye on events in his homeland, and at his bidding the Count had done his best to keep a lid on the demands of his subjects. Even the relatively friendly organizations, such as those formed by these merchants to protect their business, had been targeted. The advantage was now with those who had been hostile to the Shirerithian regime from the start.

“You see,” replied Rynnu slowly, clearly savoring the moment, “this is why we askt you here. The Silent Brotherhoot hass always known that foreign kings cannot be trustet to keep the best interests of the Pennám and their native lant in mynt. My ancestor, the great Pendúra himself, gave his life in orter to keep them from Benacia; my own clan becan when we were cast out for refusing to supmit to the Kaisers when they first came. We haff waited long for the moment when we could free our islant for all time. Ant now, I think, you ant your brethren in the cities haff begun to see that this is the only way to achieff your desires as well.”

The merchant nodded curtly. “If the Count insists on remaining no more than an Imperial lackey, we want nothing more to do with him or his masters. I suppose you wish an alliance or something.”

“Of course. We haff numerous differences, but surely they can be solft after we haff forced Shireroth off our soil, correct? If we haff that common goal, that is enough for now. Ant we belief the benefit will be mutual; you haff money ant power in the cities, we haff appeal with the common people that you cannot hope to reach in the country.”

The merchant leader leaned back. “We’ll have to consider this carefully. Trust takes a long time to build… and moreover, we’ll need to plan on how to defeat the Shirerithian military.”

“But of course,” replied Rynnu benevolently. “Giff our regards to your fellows in Port Benacia. If you decide to move forwart with us, we can bekin to plan our next moofe.”

-----

After the merchants had gone, the members of the Silent Brotherhood conversed among themselves for a while longer. The merchants were, more than likely, roped in; the loss of their old independence in money-making was far greater than their disdain for the traditional ways. But now, it was time to plan their own moves.

{They will likely seek aid from rebel groups elsewhere}, said one of them, speaking in Benacian. {They will look for allies that are opposed to Brookshire, because it is Brookshire that will first be forced to contain a Benacian uprising. Many Kildari are seasoned fighters, sharpened by their own wars, and Kildare and Brookshire are on opposite sides of religious quarrels.}

Rynnu sniffed, as if such behavior could only be considered typical of foreigners. {Caré, how goes the recruiting?}

A shapely woman, her dark hair bound in a long braid, answered. {It goes well, sir. The western swamp villages, and the fishermen in the south, have proven fairly sympathetic; they enjoy their independence and value their traditions. They are true to the Way. And they recognize what damage has been done to their way of life. Many in those regions will join us when we rise up, and many others will not stand in our way.}

{Excellent. Pick out those that are members of clan militias, the ones with training in arms; they will be most valuable. Encourage them to find support among the other militiamen. It will take all the military strength we can muster to defeat the foreigners; aid and mercenaries from abroad will not be enough to support the city-dwellers.}

{Surely you do not trust them, sir?} asked the man who had first spoken to the merchants. {Once the foreigners are pushed away, you know they will seek to crush us, to keep us form threatening their power as well. We could not compete; our numbers are not so great, or so well equipped.}

{Ahhhhh, but this will soon be changed,} replied Rynnu smugly. {My friends, I believe you have all met our friend Sarcal before…} he gestured at one of the traditionalists, older and more timid than most of their gathering. He was loyal to the Silent Brotherhood, but was viewed by his compatriots as a useless man; he was no fighter, no planner. They had never known what their lord kept him around for.

{I’m sure you’ve wondered,} continued Rynnu, as if reading their thoughts, {just what role he’s been playing in our plans. And now that the war is soon to begin, I shall tell you now that Dr. Sarcal here is, in fact, a scientist, assigned by the Count to study the Sky Pillar.}

This got their attention. The ancient artifact known as the Sky Pillar of Tuné, a great metal tower filled with incomprehensible technology, had existed in the high hills of the island for as long as legend could recount. It was known that Count Shyriath had had studies performed on it, but few had been successful in uncovering more of the tower’s secrets.

Sarcal stood up to speak, looking nervous. {I have been a member of the Silent Brotherhood for many years, ever since my father brought me in. When I was young, I chose to study engineering and technology, so that one day I could help bring the resources of the foreigners into our hands. But when the Count ordered studies to begin on the Sky Pillar, I was assigned there. I eventually came to be in charge of the project, and just in time, for it was at the beginning of my tenure as project leader that breakthroughs in understanding the Sky Pillar began to come through. The Count knows nothing of what I have discovered; he believes progress has been slow.}

Rynnu spoke again. {Dr. Sarcal thinks he has finally discovered what the Sky Pillar does and why it was built. But most importantly of all… he believes that he now knows how it can be controlled. He is fashioning a device that will permit us, and no one else, to have access to its powers.}

{But what will it do?} asks Caré.

{I will not go into details. But I can assure you that once it is activated, the schemes of soulless merchants and depraved foreigners will become utterly irrelevant. Benacia will be free forever, and I shall take my rightful place as the heir of Pendúra and King of the Benacians. And no one in the whole wide world outside shall dare to interfere with us again.}

-----

Weeks had passed since the Merchants’ Guild had made its unofficial alliance with the Silent Brotherhood. A solid home front assured (at least for the duration), the merchants of Port Benacia had turned their attention toward procuring supplies and gaining allies abroad.

This latter task had become easier with the discovery that the merchants’ colleagues on the nearby isle of Florencia were becoming sympathetic to their cause. Different though the two islands were in culture and customs, the financial classes of each shared links forged by profitable exchange… and, maybe by common interest.

It was for the purpose of gauging such interest that the representative had come here to Florencia, to arrange a meeting with the local trader barons. Although nominally here on matters of business, his superiors had given him some measure of authority to seek the aid of the Florencian merchants.

Arriving at the hostel at which he would be staying, he has a messenger sent to one of the

Note: This segment of the story seems to be lost, but I believe it had to do with the acquiring the cache of weapons mentioned shortly.

-----

Shyriath looks out over the bustling streets of Port Benacia from the windows of his offices. His eyes, normally glittering and blue, have dulled to a pale bluish-gray; and they are half-lidded, struggling to stay open after very little sleep. The byways he looks upon are busy, loud, and to all appearances thoroughly prosperous and normal.

But now he knows it not to be true.

He sighs, and slumps into his chair. The half-dragon looks to his advisor, a tall, thin man with black hair and a moustache, and penetrating green eyes. “How long has this been going on, Kantir?”

Kantir bows, and replies, “We’re not sure, my lord. But it’s likely that the merchants have been preparing their move for a few weeks at least.”

Shyriath bows his head. Of course; it all makes sense now. Last week, a newly formed political organization representing merchants’ interests had made a very sudden, very visible, and very large demonstration in the main thoroughfare of the port; and he, acting on the Kaisers’ ban on such groups, had been forced to have them rounded up. Hundreds of militiamen had been needed to subdue the troublesome protesters; it had been done as peacefully as possible, but there had been some injuries, and one death. Many had witnessed it, and commented on the harshness of the response. And since then, leaflets had been left out all over the city, describing the incident as “the brutality of foreign domination”.

Clever. Horribly clever. The population of the Port was starting to view Count Shyriath with suspicion now, as an outsider rather than the good Benacian he had tried to present himself as. And now, with this new report, that some merchants had been seeking out weapons and military support even before then, it is clear why.

There is about to be violence, violence on the part of the local magnates. And they’re trying to whip up public support.

“What do they have in the way of allies?”

Kantir consults a clipboard. “Apparently, very little. Some others in Tenra, but other than that, they seem to be relying on a popular uprising.”

“And the outlying villages? The traditionalists we’ve had problems with?”

Kantir sniffs, as if the very thought was laughable. “To them, the merchants are bigger corruptors than the Shirerithian government ever was... besides which, they don’t have the resources. I imagine they’ll stay out of this.”

Shyriath nods, and stands up, a look of resolve crystallizing in his face. “Do we know where the merchants are hiding their weapons?”

“They appear to have been gathered in a series of warehouses on the south side of the harbor.”

“Good. Then we’ll hit them tonight, before they have a chance to strike.” Shyriath makes a sweeping motion with his arm, towards the warehouses. “The local police will go after as many of the big fish behind this as possible; arrest them all at once, so they don’t have a chance to warn each other. Meanwhile, the militia will go into the warehouses and seize the weapons caches. With the weapons as proof, the people will see that the merchants were behind the unrest, and they will trust us again.”

Kantir bows. “A bold and decisive move, my lord. Shall I notify the commander?”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Kantir.”

Shyriath paces before the window, but tries to put himself at ease.

Tonight. Tonight, this will be dealt with, and he will be able to sleep again.

-----

CLANG! SLASH! Captain Toran unsheathes his sword from the body of the mercenary. Sliding it into his scabbard, he pulls out his pistol and runs to join his men, who have the other guards pinned down just outside the warehouse. The mercenaries had already been overturning the vehicles for use as a barricade when Toran’s militia unit had arrived.

“No doubt about it, sir!” yells one of the militiamen over the noise of the firefight. “They were tipped off! Air support picked off some snipers from the roof!”

“B’caw-dammit,” mutters the captain. “Are we getting at those mercs in front of the door?”

“Negative, sir! We can’t get close enough!”

The captain sighs, pulls out his walkie-talkie. “This is Toran. Air support, get over here and smoke out the guards. We’ll move in and capture the weapons.”

A few minutes later, the helicopter whirrs in, men inside taking shots at the mercs from above. Their cover suddenly useless, the guards scatter, futilely trying to escape both the aerial and ground attacks. “Split off and pursue them!” yells Captain Toran. “We’ll get inside and secure the building!”

Toran and his men blow the lock off the warehouse door. Opening it a crack, one of the men looks in, sees no signs of movement. The men open the door wider. The captain pokes in his head briefly, but before pulling it back, can only stare at what he sees.

Empty. The whole building is a big, empty space!

-----

Rynnu, self-styled future King of the Benacians, reads the report with satisfaction.

A tall, cloaked figure approaches him in his quarters. “Good news, I assume?”

Rynnu laughs, “Indeed. Your contacts did their job perfectly. The demon Count went for the bait. He thought he could nip a potential revolt in the bud, but he couldn’t find the weapons... and now he has no evidence to keep the merchants he arrested in jail. Now those are freed, the people are angry at a seeming act of purposeless revenge against the merchants, and the rebel leaders and their weapons are safely tucked away in their safehouse.”

The cloaked figure’s smile is not visible beneath his hood, but a blind man could tell it was there. “Lackeys of the Kaiser are easily led around, my lord. He operates on good information; trying to hide the fact that the weapons were being brought to that warehouse would’ve been impossible. So, we allowed him to find the warehosue; and thanks to the hidden tunnel, the arms were all smuggled away to the safehouse as soon as they arrived there. The Count had no way of knowing that the arms hadn’t stayed in the building.”

Rynnu glances at him sharply. “About that tunnel...”

“It was collapsed before the militia even arrived. All the weapons, as well as the major merchant leaders, are at the safehouse.”

“Excellent.” Rynnu sips his brandy. “Now the Count has been brought down in the eyes of the people. They will see his acts as baseless oppression, and they will sympathize with the merchants. The city folk will become restive, and the Count will be distracted by them; he will ignore our activities.” He glances at the cloaked figure. “My friend, I must admit that when you first came to me, I was skeptical. I had no interest in revolution then. But your words convinced my heart; and now, the success of your plans is convincing my mind.”

The cloaked figure bows. “I am but a heartfelt patriot, Lord. When Benacia is free and you are its master, that will be my reward.”

“Ahhhh, but not all your reward,” replies Rynnu magnanimously. “For your invaluable aid and that of your agents, you will have your pick of territories and wealth to manage in my name. You will have a bright future, my friend.”

The cloaked man bows again. Sounding satisfied, he replies, “My thanks, Lord.”

-----

In the fastness of the ancient city of Shirekeep, a pale, blue-eyed man, sitting upon an ancient throne, crushes a piece of paper in his fist. Though his face is expressionless, his aides know that he is angry.

Mors IV "Nerrolar", the Kaiser of Shireroth, abruptly stands up and walks to his private chambers at a brisk pace.

This has gone on far too long, he thinks to himself. The very island where I was born is in an uproar; the people are against an established noble. Therefore, they are against ME.

The message, sent by the Count's adviser, had asked for assistance in the matter. Mors is not an emotional man, known for his cold, clinical outlook; but this news has inflamed a desire for punishment.

In his quarters, he quickly pens an Imperial Decree establishing an heir to the throne, and hands it to a waiting squire. "Take this. Have copies sent to all the Duchies of Shireroth." To another, he commands, "You! Get to the barracks. I need a good-sized strikeforce from the Imperial Army. And boats, troop ships to carry them down the Elwynn and over open water."

He opens up a locked cabinet with the key only he has. Inside is a suit of black armor, a shield, and an ancient sword with a dark, wicked-looking blade, a weapon kept in his line from the earliest days.

He will attend to this matter personally.

-----

When the small fleet arrives in Port Benacia to start disgorging its troops, things have entered a sorry state.

The spectacular failure of the Count's weapons raid two weeks ago had turned the people of the city against him. With no tangible grounds to detain the many merchants who had been arrested, unrest was growing here, and slowly spreading to the countryside; the crackdown had disrupted business coming into the city from the outlying villages.

Now reports are starting to come in of rural rebel groups as well, and militia forces are spread thin.

As Imperial troops begin quelling unrest around the harbor and downtown, the Kaiser and his enior military advisors stride into the government house to meet with the Count.

-----

Shyriath finds himself on bended knee before his Kaiser. Rising when it is indicated that he should, the half-dragon sounds nervous. "M-my Kaiser... I am grateful for your help, but I hadn't expected-"

"I was asked to come, Count Shyriath."

The Count looks perplexed.

"The note was from your advisor?"

Shyriath looks to his aide Kantir, who fidgets. "Sire, I knew the Kaiser would want to know. With the militias stretched so thin-"

Shyriath sighs. "Yes, yes."

Mors continues. "At any rate, we will shortly be in control of the situation. Once the city is secure, we will push into the outlying areas and keep this from escalating."

-----

Rynnu leaps to his feet. "The Kaiser is HERE?!?"

The traditionally-dressed woman, Caré, nods stiffly. "He arrived in Port Benacia just a few hours ago, my lord."

The fundamentalist leader shews his lip. The appearance of the army was not supposed to have been so swift... and not with the Kaiser leading it. Why had they been drawn so swiftly to events in this backwater?

"Change of plans," he informs the woman. "I'm taking the scientist to the Sky Pillar to get control of it. If you see our friend in the hooded cloak, tell him to go to there as well. Meanwhile, you tell our people to start their revolt now. Draw the Kaiser here, to the villages... that will distract them."

He tries to calm himself as he goes to the stables. This was an unexpected development; nothing more. It can still be dealt with. The Sky Pillar is the key. Not even a Kaiser's might can stand up to it.

Over the skies of Benacia, the storm clouds gather, and the sky darkens.

The odd break in action that follows is a partly a result of the remainder of this post being from a different thread, "The Death of A Kaiser", but I believe that some RPing of the battle between the Imperial forces and the rebels also occurred in after the above section.

-----

The rebel leader Rynnu paces back and forth impatiently, watching his scientist ally making adjustments to the control device he had created. After so long, he is at last near his goal of taking control of the ancient energies of the Sky Pillar of Tune. If only he can manage that, it doesn't matter HOW many soliders the Kaiser has at his disposal; the tower's technological marvels will serve Rynnu as a weapon against which NO modern military can stand.

But now there's fighting outside the tower. This has to be finished NOW! "Hurry up with that!"

"Almost done, sir."

Rynnu wishes he knew how the Kaiser had found out enough about the rebellion to warrant a personal visit anyway. Why was he here? Who had told him? Certainly not the demon-Count, he would've wanted to handle it himself.

The sound of the elevator clicking into place behind him causes Rynnu to whirl around; and he sees a man in dark armor striding toward him. Someone else is behind the cold figure, but the rebel leader fails to notice; his sight is entirely filled by the angry visage of Kaiser Mors.

"Y-you!" the man squeaks.

The Kaiser does not speak, but continues to advance with dreadful purpose, his eyes burning with cold fire. Rynnu draws his own sword in desperation, but the Sword of Mortis comes down upon his blade and snaps it in two as if it were balsam wood.

"Your rebellion ends here. I will NOT see this island attempting to break away, especially not when my own family settled here ages ago. Benacia is of the Line of Mortis now."

"Pity," comes a voice from behind the Kaiser, "that the Line of Mortis must end so soon."

Before Mors can even turn his head, an expertly (perhaps unnaturally?) wielded dagger slides between two of the plates of the armor upon his back and pierces his lung. The Kaiser's face twists into rage, but he can do nothing but to double over, suddenly gasping for breath.

Rynnu looks up, and sees the formerly timid Kantir, the aide of Count Shyriath, with a devious smile upon his face.

The face of the same man that had been advising Rynnu himself.

"K-kantir... thank the Gods." Rynnu slides to the floor, looking relieved. "You came in the nick of time. But... what is the Kaiser doing here? And what were YOU doing with him?"

"I was guiding him here. I went through the trouble of calling him to the island, after all."

Rynnu reels in shock. "You WHAT?!?"

"Sir?" interrupts the scientist, emerging from a side room. "The device is... ready..." he gulps, observing the wheezing Kaiser.

Rynnu quickly gets to his feet. "The controls for the tower? And they're ready? You're sure they work?"

"Yes, sir, I can guarantee it."

Rynnu stabs the scientist with the jagged, proken end of his sword.

Kantir appears amused. "Bloodthirsty today, are we?"

"Leaving no one behind that could stop me." Rynnu grabs up the small, almost simple-looking control device, and begins working the switches. All around them, the Sky Pillar hums to life.

-----

Count Shyriath, coming up behind the forces engaged in battle with the rebels around the foot of the Sky Pillar, orders the militia accompanying him to reinforce the Imperial troops. Calling on a nearby captain, he yells, "Where is the Kaiser?"

"Nowhere in sight! He went for the tower!"

"Alone?!?"

Dread in his heart, Shyriath spurs his callamen steed Windfeather toward the Sky Pillar, doing his best not to get caught up in the fray.

Meanwhile, the ancient tower begins to hum, its systems coming to life once more.

-----

Rynnu sets the final parameters. "Now... yes. The tower is ready to fire." He turns to Kantir. "Everything is going well... or at least it was. Why did you endanger the plan by convincing the Kaiser to come here? He could've ruined everything!"

The aide shrugs in a nonchalant manner. "It was MY plan in the beginning, remember? I was the one who advised you to take control of the tower.... the one who told you what it might have been for." He grins, and looks up at the crystal dome topping the tower. "Imagine it... a giant focusing tower. Built to draw energy from all around and turn it into a beam that could be aimed at power receivers for miles around... or turned into an awesome weapon."

"Yes, yes!" hisses Rynnu impatiently. "But why did you bring the Imperials into this? The rebellion could have already taken over the island before the Army had any clue what was happening! Know they're upon our very doorstep!"

Kantir strides forward, as if to embrace his comrade. "Now, now, my friend.. Surely you must realize-"

And then, with a rapid motion, he plunges another dagger into the heart of the rebel leader. Rynnu falls down, dead before he hits the floor.

"...surely you must realize," finishes Kantir with a whisper, "that my version of the plan might not be the same as yours."

A bubbling cough catches Kantir's attention, drawing his notice away from the elevator, which at this moment chooses to go back down to the bottom of the tower. Mors is struggling to his feet, leaning on his sword. "You... arranged this." The monarch coughs, blood trailing form the corner of his mouth; but his eyes are filled with understanding of what has happened. "The rebellion was an excuse to bring me here... I was your target all along."

Kantir bows slightly. "You strike close to the truth, Majesty... although the rebellion was an added bonus. As was this." He gestures to the thrumming machinery. "Think of the mayhem! A Kaiser, cut down... a rebellion, using valuable Imperial troops to crush. And a weapon capable of holding whole sections of Shireroth hostage! Do you know why, O Arbiter?"

The Kaiser's eyes burn, as if his approaching death his eyes had been given greater vision. "To... weaken. To sap the strength of Shireroth... to waste our energies." He looks to Kantir with a new hate. "To influence the outcome... of the Last Battle."

Kantir Suramon, loyal servant of the Descendi, nods in satisfaction. "Ages ago, the Hand of Rrakanychan sought to free the great Daemon from his place before the Gate of Balgurd. They failed... but their vision has not." He sneers. "We cannot know what the Last Battle will bring, but we do know that easing the way for the Legions of Balgurd cannot hurt. Surely, the destruction of a Kaiser will aid in this."

The Kaiser coughs up more blood, and his vision begins to fade; he sways on his feet. He can hear Kantir striding toward him. "I suggest you simply give up, Majesty. It will be less painful."

Mors grimaces. His eyes snap open, and with a sudden movement he lunges at Kantir, knocking him aside; with one last wild swing of the Sword of Mortis, he slashes off a spiky piece of the tower's ancient machinery. Sizzling energy crackles from the stump of the device, speading to nearby spikes like a disease. The hum of the tower turns to a higher pitch, almost a whine.

His energy spent, Kaiser Mors slumps to the ground. Kantir, getting up from where he had fallen, scowls and whirls around; he fades into the shadows, as if he had never been.

The elevator returns to the top floor, bearing Count Shyriath. He utters a cry of horror, seeing that he is too late. Rushing to the Kaiser's side, he begins pulling the dying monarch back towards the elevator. "Don't worry, your Majesty... I'll send you back down, the men will find you. I'll take care of the rebels up here.

Mors coughs. "No... all gone. Device destroyed..." He coughs; blood from his lips spatters his armor. "Won't survive this. My family... see them safely to Benacia. Watch them."

As the elevator begins its descent, Shyriath shakes his head in shock. "Majesty, I-"

"I COMMAND it," whispers Mors. "My heir is chosen... he shall take the throne. And my line must continue. YOU must see to it." He gasps in air, as if while speaking he had been immersed in water. "My sword... the Sword of Mortis. You will bring it to my descendants. ...Swear to me."

"Yes... yes, I..." But Shyriath cannot continue, for Mors will not answer. As the last breath of the Kaiser leaves his body, his eyes close in peace.

Shyriath has seen many things in his inhumanly long life, and seen a great many sad things; but as he sits over the body of his sovereign lord, they all pale in comparison.

Unable to help himself, he weeps.

Hint: The fate of Mors IV will become important in the story "An Epistrophe of Ships", currently being written.