[center][h1]The Realm of Kolodiva[/h1]
[h2]23 Rule of Valesti[/h2]
[color=gray]“I put my heart and soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process.”[/color][/center][hr]

The city of Gorleka had grown fat and rich. The city of light-upon-river, it was the capital of the Southern Fiefdoms. The throne of Valesti sat there, his stoic perch above the lands he had spent his life conquering. Its ivory towers were the envy of the known world, their glory rivalled only by the machinations of the thunderlords in their fortress upon the sky. All trade in Kolodiva, at some point or another, made its way through Gorleka. Armies beyond counting marched in the name of the King of Gorleka and the emperor of the Southern Fiefdoms. From its parapets, the steely-gazed Royal Castellan Witalis met Valesti plotted his machinations of law.

To the southwest lay Gornibin, a humble city in the shadow of the glory of Gorleka. Though its splendor lay in question, Gornibin was a place of hardy and capable men; woodsmen and farmers in equal measure. Where Gorleka failed to hold back the marauders of the Southern Realm, the men of Gornibin held firm; it was their efforts alone that maintained the guard-upon-river that held back the worst of the pillaging. Its churches hailed the name of Kuba met Valesti, the Imperious Bishop tep Caedan of the whole realm.

To the far west lay the town of Derazhi; its independence nominally maintained by its pioneering spirit. Where other men saw barren fields worth nothing, Derazhi men took pride in their ability to bend and tame. Under their careful guidance, the frontier plains were settled, and their stake carved out on the map. A stake they saw to none would take from them. Its hardy settlers praised the Lord-Architectural Metody met Valesti’s theories on cultivation.

The final city, Cajnicea, lay as the gateway to the northern states of the Anchor; Cajnicean farms occupied the last truly arable land in the north, and through Cajnicea flowed the mineral riches of the mountain and the grains of the plain. Though not numerous, Cajniceans commanded immense power over the flow of trade that far outweighed their mere numbers. At its beating heart, Marin met Valesti pulled the strings of the realm; though without royal position, he nonetheless held power over the kingdom.

The cities of the Anchor had long refused the clarion call of unification; their independence maintained through fire and war. The greatest among them, Chruda, dominated the western ranges, a monumental city built into the mountainside. From it, mineral riches poured forth, made by the finest blacksmiths and artisans across the whole Realm. By its banner the Anchor rallied, the scheming Eliasz met Valesti taking his place among their walls in stark rejection of the scorn of Valesti.

To the east of Chruda lay the manors of Jasztad, a small but fierce town of the Anchor who made their living in the monopolization of trade between Chruda and Cajnicea. It was here that the lords of Kolodiva took their journeys, well-managed and idyllic pastoral farmland to greet them. Thus it was that Chruda thrived.

In the north, laid bare in the shadow of the thunderlords, the city Domred worked their political theory; the only true republic in the Realm, Domred held a particular curiosity and scorn among men. Its people were capable statesmen, their institutions the most efficient in the Realm. The city held its head high, regardless of its plague of cults.

Privie lay in a child spur of the Anchor range -- originally but a monastery of soldier-monks dedicated to the glorification of Gebei, around them a city grew. Under the watchful eye of the monastery, the fortifications grew as well. Privie stands proud, a fortress unassailable, manned by the most devout and most disciplined troops in the realm.

Finally, the last city of the Anchor, in the eastern reaches, Ungmir sat a bastion of ore. Its mines were the richest in all of Kolodiva, and from it the copper, tin, bronze, and iron that all the cities relied upon flowed. Its men were hardy, used to the dark and the heat.

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“You hold no position, Marin, you are ineligible for the throne! It is the law of the realm!” The voice of Witali rang out, ripples of murmured shock flooding the hall. On the throne, Valesti stared at the assemblage before him, pale-faced and hollow-eyed, his pupils focused on something only a man in the throes of madness could see. He seemed an edifice of stone as Marin responded. “I’ve purchased my right to presence! You can’t kick me out, and I will say what I wish while within this hall!”

A huzzah rose from the merchants, the aristocratic hangers-on jeering in response. Metody shouted above it all, scoldingly, “Witalis, you cretin, how would you know the laws? It is doubtless you are illiterate! And Marin, you are no better, you take the credit of your betters! You lazy, self-absorbed mongerer!” The hall descended into a furious uproar.

Witali shouted back, “I would have your hide tanned if you were not Lord-Architectural, Metody, you--,” just then, Kuba launched into his own blistering tirade, “Metody, you are a godless whelp! Were Caedan to see you, he would avert his eyes in shame! You are a failure of a man!”

Kuba drew his sword, fire in his eyes as he encroached on Metody, and with a cry of rage Witali responded, drawing his own sword as the guards brought their spears to bear. Marin ducked out of the way, sliding a dagger from his sleeve. The shouting reached a crescendo -- and then Valesti’s voice rang out, silencing all.

“Stop!” he cried, holding up a hand as he stared blankly at the ceiling, “None of you will ever see my crown! I would sooner dash it into a hundred pieces than pass it to any of you! No, I wait for the successor!” His raised hand closed into a fist, his index finger outstretched as he pointed up at the ceiling, his gaze transfixed as he muttered weakly, “The successor. He will have my throne, the successor.”

Unwilling to raise complaints with their father the king, the brothers muttered as they sheathed their weapons, the brief confrontation forgotten as they watched the pitiful display before them. With a shake of his head, Kuba made his exit. Marin, unwilling to watch his father in a delusional fit, ingratiated himself into a crowd of merchants. Metody simply looked at the floor, waiting for his father’s fit to be over. Witali got to work ordering the guards back into their positions, keeping his back turned to Valesti.

[hr]

Aleksy met Chwalibog was an honest, hard-working child. His father had ordered him to tend to the flock, and Aleksy obeyed. On the outskirts of his village, so small it was not even granted a name, he kept a close eye for predators that would harm the livestock. The livestock was the lifeblood of the village, and to place such a responsibility in the hands of a mere ten-year-old was the ultimate signal of trust.

Aleksy wished to ensure that trust was not misplaced, for he was an honest, hard-working child. All day he had walked the fields with the flock, proudly keeping his guard up and his wits about him. Only once the sun was set, the flock put safely to rest, and he had returned home did he let himself relax. His mother, Juliusz met Toporek welcomed him at the door, her face a beam of pride for her loyal and steadfast son.

Chwalibog met Mieszko was once a strong man, but in his age and peace had grown heavyset; a small price to pay for the prosperity they now enjoyed. Peace had brought for them plentiful bounty, and with a tear in his eye, Chwalibog thought of his son’s innocence. Aleksy had not met the kiss of war, and thought little of the killing of men. Chwalibog could not be more proud, for Aleksy was an honest, hard-working child who knew only the way of peace.

After dinner, Aleksy went to bed early. He wished to be rested for the day after, for his father would once more ask him to tend to the village’s flock. It was an important task, and the son did not wish for exhaustion to slow him down. It was in these ways he made his parents and his village proud.

[hider=summary]
First we open with a summary of each of the major cities of Kolodiva.
Gorleka - the capital city, rich with trade and splenderous, powerbase of Witalis met Valesti
Gornibin - Southernmost city, experienced woodsmen and farmers, sturdiest troops who keep plains marauders at bay, powerbase of Kuba met Valesti
Derazhi - Tough pioneers, powerbase of Metody met Valesti
Cajnicea - central point of trade between anchor cities and southern fiefdoms, powerbase of Marin met Valesti
Chruda - Westernmost Anchor City, leads a loose coalition of the rest of the Anchor Cities, powerbase of Eliasz met Valesti, who is estranged from his father’s court
Jasztad - Middleman city between Chruda and the rest of the realm, also serves as a vacation spot for the aristocracy.
Domred - City in the shadow of the Fortress of the Constant, unique in that it is a republic where all other cities are led by kings. Struggles with Cults of the Constant.
Privie - Originally a soldier-monk monastery, a city grew around it. Known as the best-fortified city in the realm.
Ungmir - Eastern-most Anchor City, has the richest mines.

Then, we open to a scene in the throne-hall of Valesti in Gorleka. Four of his sons are introduced and argue a shitload. They draw swords on each other, then Valesti interrupts them to declare “The successor” as his successor, before pointing meaninglessly at the ceiling. This breaks up the fight.

Then, we meet another character, a 10-year-old in a village too small to have a name, who has only known a peaceful life, and is honest and hard-working. We’ll do more with him later.
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