Syran. The city that we all - ruefully or happily - call home.
Home, too, to more than twenty thousand other souls, or so the civic enumerators would have us believe. Some claim that there are more bodies than souls to be found within our walls; others speak of the refinement of these souls, or of the great and infinitely refined soul of the city itself. Regardless of the disposition of their souls, however, two characteristics of the citizens of Syran are universally acknowledged: the abundance and bewildering diversity of their philosophies, and their seemingly infinite capacity for discussing them.
Syran is sometimes called the City of Glass, an epithet that is calculated to furrow the brows of the ignorant, especially when they first behold the uncompromising opacity of its high stone walls. Only when the visitor stumbles upon the Glassmakers District does comprehension finally dawn, often closely followed by awe. The Ancient and Sanctified Guild of Vitrifacture is first amongst the city's many guilds, and justifiably proud of the extraordinary diversity and matchless qualities of its wares.
Our city's history is ancient and glorious. In the time of our earliest ancestors, seven great cities were built in the fertile lowlands around the lake that we now call Felster. Syran was one of these, and long housed the wise and the powerful of Safelster. Its prominence continued in the time of the Autarchs, and the glorious Empire of the Great Arkat, and for many years afterwards as the capital of the greater Sentanos.
Those days of glory are long gone, and until recently another city presumed to govern us: Tortun, home to the Lady Erengazor, the Duchess of Tortun, High Priestess of Low Delight, and so-called Archon of the Autocracy of Sentanos. Erengazor's power waxed with her leadership of the Proven Appearance of Arkat faction, and now wanes with the manifest failure of that ill-fated movement. The recent defeat of her army at Valantia seems to have sealed her fate.
Some of our own fine young men were amongst the brave soldiers who paid dearly for her misguided ambitions. She hoped to reclaim Valantia for her Galvosti allies, who were driven from the city more ten years ago by pagan barbarians. Surantyr of Fiesive, the Archbishop of the Henotheist Church of Otkorion, led the original assault on Valantia with his barbarian allies, and presided once again over their defeat of the Sentanos army on this occasion.
Since this ignominious defeat, Erengazor's power has dwindled, and now she struggles to retain control over her own city of Tortun. Thus it is that Syran, too long overshadowed by her sister city, has once again taken control of her own destiny. While the newly-formed Council of Noble Houses has yet to flex its political muscles, the citizens of Syran are - for the time being at least - very happy with their new rulers.
Now, it seems, our fair city has the opportunity to rise once more to prominence, to reclaim its glorious destiny. Everyone is talking about the the religious and military ambitions of the other states of Safelster: Otkorion and its power-hungry archbishop and pagan allies; Naskorion, with its Stygian church and troll allies; and Azilos, with Count Foyalfine's preposterous claim to be the true heir of Arkat's Empire. And then there is the ever-present threat from Seshnela, and the seemingly limitless ambitions of King Guilmarn, and Ecclesiarch Theoblanc, the unrivalled leader of the puritanical Rokari Church.
Rumours of secret plots and clandestine organisations also abound. Everyone fears the Guild of Chaos Monks, and their apparently senseless crusade of evil. Mention of the Borist heretics and their despicable practices is also guaranteed to inspire panic. And always the people speak of the true Arkati amongst them, their tone often mixing fear with admiration. For these secretive and shadowy figures are not their enemies, the common folk still firmly insist, but their saviours.
~oOo~
And who are these four fellows? I think some introductions are in order.
This proud popinjay styles himself Sir Rotheric, though his noble heritage is not nearly so fine as his clothes. An all-too-willing slave to his lamentable appetites, he has some noteworthy talents when it comes to fencing, but none when it comes to finance. The only evidence of human warmth to be found in this cold-hearted dandy lies in his apparently hopeless attempts to cure his demon-cursed brother.
Our next subject is an iconographer by profession, but he is no less a servant of his appetites than his unwitting bedfellow, Sir Rotheric. While the dandy dallies with this worthy's sickly wife - and avails himself of the services of their maids - Master Tiago seeks his pleasure elsewhere. His mistress is a luxury that he cannot really afford, and his penchant for more perilous entertainments in Syran's underbelly are surely the mark of a troubled soul. Perhaps he will find answers in the strange visions he has seen in the city walls.
You almost overlooked Salfard, didn't you? No mere servant is he, whatever his young master believes, and House Lazaran's private army unthinkingly obey his commands as if they came from the plague-stricken old master himself. Quietly pursuing his own agendas, he moves unremarked amongst the great and the good, a potent but unacknowledged player in Syran's great game of politics. What are these mysterious agendas, though? And whom does he serve, if not his master?
Salfard's preference for the shadows perhaps reflects his curious upbringing by the monks of St Errolan, but our last subject has no such explanation for his dark tendencies. Syran's dark underbelly may be little more than a thrilling diversion for Tiago, but for Touchstone it is a livelihood. This faceless middleman caters to those finer folk who find it necessary to have dealings with the city's more unsavoury aspects, but prefer not to sully their hands with it personally. Here, at last, we find a true servant of an avowedly noble cause, albeit one who is not afraid to dispense with all conventional morality in pursuit of his high ideals.
We shall see and hear more of these gentlemen - and not-so-gentle men - shortly...