Second Day, Second Month, 871 AD.
Alekos Virgilos, Prince.
Kingdom of Polaeros.
Polaeriopolis.
The Seeker's Palace.
My Dearest Alek,
I must confess to a great deal of nervousness as of late, and for a great many reasons. My research into the occult has continued in the time we have spent apart, though I fear that things are truly beginning to spiral out of control at home. Father came down with another illness recently, the latest in a string of debilitating ailments to have targeted him. I may have made a great many preparations for a potential civil war or succession crisis, but with all my heart I can truly say that I do not think I truly realised just how close to war we were. I will have the throne one day, of that there is no doubt, but I think whatever childlike part of me remained had still hoped the transition of power from my father to myself would be bloodless. I now know better.
There has been no conflict to speak of, and no war has come about quite yet, but I know it won't be long. I can feel it in my gut. It's that same nervous anticipation I had in the runup to the rebellion, that sense of anxiety and adrenaline building seemingly without reason. No, there will not be a war yet, not while may father yet lives. If one of these illnesses one day claims him however...
I believe I need to redouble my efforts to prepare. Below I have compiled the information you have asked for relating to the kingdoms of Licotemos and Kortheros, the two easternmost nations of the Heptarchy on the Dathanian border. I fail to see why I am the one compiling this information and not yourself, since your homeland is far closer to them than mine, but then I guess you have spent the greater part of your time 'at home' travelling to lands far from Klironomea. That same childish part of myself I mentioned earlier still dreams some nights of leaving everything behind and joining you, but I can't indulge that part of my imagination anymore. There's too much work to do.
Enough prattle from me; here are my thoughts on the lands of peaches and marble, of golden fields and mines blacker than the night.
Licotemos is perhaps the only nation in the Heptarchy that could rival the strength of Teleytaios. With the largest amount of land under the control of any Klironomean kingdom they certainly seem to be the strongest nation in the known world if one were to glean their only insights on geopolitics from maps showing national borders. Even beyond that, the fact that they consistently maintain both the largest agricultural output of any nation in the Heptarchy and the world as a whole means they form a vital link in the east of the continent for the trading of foodstuffs and other assorted raw materials. As well as this they are able to raise the single largest levied army in all of Klironomea, or so their kings and lords arrogantly proclaim to all around them in a prideful, bellicose way. So why do I say that they only appear to be the most powerful kingdom in the Heptarchy?
Because their armies are some of the least experienced in the world, their nobles feckless and indolent, and their agricultural estates archaic and inefficient. The nation is constantly wracked by minor internal wars between noble houses, which while destabilising one would expect to at least provide some experience to the soldiers under the command of the lords, but in truth the only ones who go off to do any of the real fighting are, by and large, the Licoteman knights. Excellent, one might think, knights are excellent combatants! Whilst this may broadly be true, there is much to be desired from the so called 'Order of the Peach'.
I will go over the inadequacies of the fighting capabilities of Licotemos soon enough, but for now let us turn to the royal family of this land. House Perytlos is one of the largest houses in the known world, with perhaps as many as a score of cadet branches in total. The heads of these branches range from dukes to barons in their noble ranking, but they are not the rulers to be looked at here. The main branch of house Perytlos consists of somewhere around a dozen members, but of all of them there are only six of any importance; the ruling couple and their children.
King Reyne Perytlos is a man widely regarded as being in his prime, though if this is his prime I hesitate to inquire as to what he will be like when it passes him by. His wife, Queen Aerina Perytlos née Petrinos, is made of far sterner stuff. There are many who rumour that, behind closed doors, it is her that is the true ruler of Licotemos. I would not be surprised to learn that this rumour is the truth, or at least contain a measure of truth. Whatever the truth may be, the two of them form the ruling couple of the largest kingdom in the Heptarchy, and indeed the known world.
Of their children there is much more to say, though I will try and maintain brevity throughout.
The eldest of the king's children is one Ser Reynard Perytlos, every bit the image of his father. Thankfully he seems at least marginally more intelligent than his progenitor, though not to the extent of his sister. An expert duellist who earned his knighthood at the age of eleven, he often seems to find himself sent on errands to the outskirts of his kingdom. Perhaps his father believes that the presence of his son will quell banditry and noble dissent, or perhaps he is tired of being shown up by his heir. Who can say?
The other two princes are nearly as prodigious with in duels as their brother, though the two of them seem to have inherited more of their mother's intelligence, thank the Angels.
The second, Prince Stasos, fights as an Armsman, believe it or not, slogging out his days in the mud with commoners. What his father and mother make of that I do not pretend to know, nor am I anxious to find out.
The last of the three, Prince Mathias, seems to be a more bookish lad than this brothers, spending his days with his sister in the libraries of his home as opposed to on the battlefield. He can swing a blade just fine, but his heart lies more in books and diplomacy than it does in matters martial.
Of course, there is also the youngest of the four siblings to consider; Princess Iona appears to be an expert when it comes to matters of diplomacy and, if a trusted source in my inner circle is to be believed, rather talented when it comes to more 'underhanded' matters of state. I have met with the princess and Prince Mathias once before now, and though I do respect her brother she is, much like her mother, a powerhouse when it comes to bandying words and settling disputes in her own favour.
Each member of the main house keeps the same sigil, that being a brown bow broken in the centre on a plain lime-green field with a peach-coloured edge. A rather ugly design, in my opinion, but then there is more than a little symbolism behind their choice of sigil. Green fields to represent their fertile lands, peach lining because the peach is one of their national symbols, and a broken bow because house Perytlos cemented its power by defeating the cousin of the late King Harald II after two decades of insurrection, breaking his bow which had been a gift from the boy-king before his passing at the fateful battle of the Aauta Pass.
House Perytlos rules from the great marbled city of Sygomidopolis, a rich and prosperous place. It is the second largest city in the entire Heptarchy, trailing only behind Anaria itself, and has a rather unique privilege of being within arms reach of the home of the Alithini-Agiathos. As with most great cities, the central region is dedicated to sprawling palaces and royal-owned complexes. Every royal palace showcases perfectly the character of the kingdom it forms the heart of, and the Grand Eastern Palace of Sygomidopolis is no exception. It is a haughty and impressive complex, with walls of smooth marble and so many great works of art that the vaults beneath the palace would be sure to make even the most decadent of the Tildan merchant-princes blush. It certainly helps that the city is seen as more 'cultured' by the southerners; seeing as Licotemos was one of the first regions of Klironomea conquered when the ancient Klironomeans first returned from their exile in the hills of Dathan, the city is made up of almost entirely High-Klironomeans.
The rest of the city does not share in this splendour, however. Oh, for certain, small pockets of gleaming white buildings can be found in every district, but the majority of the outlying regions are made up of the same lowborn housing and workplaces you can find in any city in the Heptarchy. Both the north and the south are given over to sprawling urban districts, whilst the east and west are filled with workshops and markets respectively. The city may have been devastated by the black grave a few years ago, but it still remains one of the most vital links in the economy of the Heptarchy.
Most of Licotemos is made up of rolling fields, sprawling orchards, and the occasional large township, but there is also a sizable population residing upon the hills that make up the north-east of the country. Those men and women tend to be hardier than their cousins in the lowlands, especially since they've been fending off Dathanian raiders without almost any support from the lords of the lowlands for centuries. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that the lords of the eastern hills of Licotemos are the only such nobles in that realm who deserve their titles, for they hold themselves only a little higher than the lowborns that they rule.
Licotemos also has a small stretch of coastline along the Ambyr Sea, which borders both western Dathan and eastern Tildan, though the large kingdom hasn't the sailors to make much use of this potentially excellent trading link, nor do they have the political willpower to change such a state of affairs.
There isn't much to say when it comes to the religious makeup of Licotemos; being so firmly in the grip of the New-Church means that the vast majority of the nation has abandoned the myriad of other cults and sects of the church, though there is still a sizable minority of Old-Church adherents in the hills of the north-east as well as a goodly number of disconnected villages and hamlets that follow the Silent Cult after the recent outbreaks of the black grave. Even so, the country remains firmly in the grip of the Alithini-Agiathos, and I fail to see such a state of affairs changing anytime soon.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The Licoteman army is, on paper, very big. Some sixty-thousand men make up the vast ranks of the eastern kingdom, eight-thousand of them professional soldiers. It seems, once again on paper, to be a very powerful realm indeed.
As with many things in Licotemos, a closer look leaves much to be desired.
The levies are typically equipped in a manner marginally better than their counterparts in the west, often with boiled leather cuirasses and helmets and even actual, purpose built spears instead of whatever tools happened to be lying around. This should make them a force to be reckoned with, but the lords of Licotemos neglect the training and disciplining of their men. They trust in numbers to win the day, but that often means that thousands of their levies turn tail and run when facing foes who are, on paper, far inferior. The knights lack substance as well. Of the eight-thousand professional soldiers in Licotemos six-thousand are knights, but they are not knights as they are known to the west. The knights of Licotemos are often referred to as 'Peach-Knights' or 'the Order of the Peach', for they are more suited to lording over the vast estates of their families than fighting. More is better, in the eyes of Licotemos, and so their knightly chapters eschew plate armour and barding for chainmail, since for the price of a full suit of plate armour and barding for a horse perhaps half a dozen men could be outfitted in chain armour.
Only a small portion of Licotemans practice archery as well, which leaves the Licoteman military in a rather precarious state; their armies lack both ranged and support and heavy horse, still relying on the ancient tactics of 'more men means victory', and trusting in their ancient ways to see them triumphant.
I have little respect for the easternmost kingdom of the Heptarchy, for their leadership infuriates me. They could quite easily become the greatest of all the Klironomean kingdoms, but they lack the willpower, the political vision, the drive to change. They are content to do things the same way their ancestors always have, and as a result they have stagnated ever since the Centuries of Iron came to a close. It baffles me that the royal house has maintained power for as long as they have, though I suppose there is a reason so much of their wealth is spent on generous gifts to their vassals.
Angels, I hate Licotemos.
If Licotemos is the garden of Klironomea, then Kortheros is the workshop. Kortheros stands as the third-largest kingdom in the Heptarchy, and guards the majority of the Dathanian border. It is a nation of miners and stonemasons, with rich seams of coal, iron, and gold running throughout the kingdom. Once this land was ruled over by the ancient Aegan Empire in a time before even the Silence fell, but it has long since been a core centre of the Klironomean people.
Much like Licotemos, Kortheros has great wealth brought about by trade and a people generally considered to be High-Klironomean even when including the lowborns. Thankfully the comparisons end there, for one inefficient, archaic state is quite enough for the Heptarchy to be burdened with, and we do not need a second.
The current ruling family is, paradoxically, viewed as almost Low-Klironomean in nature. House Blackpit is a young house, having only ruled over the lands of Kortheros for three generations. This makes them much loathed amongst their vassal houses, many of whom believe that they have a better claim to the throne than the sitting monarchs. Despite this they have grown wealthy off of the rich veins of coal that run under their lands. Schemes and plots are therefore abound, however house Blackpit is nothing if not cunning.
There are currently four members of the sitting royal family, five if the king's betrothed and soon-to-be-wife is counted, but of the four only one is trueborn. King Aered's rule is tenuous at best, and he seems ill suited to continue such a reign through no real fault of his own. His vassals dislike him for they believe their claims to be greater, the knights of the realm bear him little love for he is crippled in one leg and arm and can therefore never fight alongside them, and his actions against his bastard brothers have pushed them away from him and filled them with vitriol. It certainly seems as though this king is not destined to rule for much longer, though I suppose that the fact he has lasted this long despite his handicaps does raise the question of potentially hidden depths. After all, one does not last as long as he has with his handicaps without some form of edge over those who would see him cast down.
Aside from King Aered there are his three bastard brothers, often simply referred to as 'the Blackpit Triplets'. Cunning and brutal, there is little that these three will not do if it benefits each other. It is strange to see a group so brutal and unempathetic care so much for each other, but then the ties of family can often run strong. The three of them take the sigil of their house inverted for their own; where their trueborn brother shows three silver spears on a coal-black field, the bastards proudly fly their banners with a trio of black spears stood upright on a silver field.
The capital of Kortheros, ever since it was a province of the Aegan empire some two-thousand years ago, has been the city of Tyranopolis. A prosperous and cosmopolitan city, it has long benefitted from its position nestled amongst hills near the mouth of a river. To greatly oversimplify the layout of such a cosmopolitan place it is laid out as such: the centre holds a great and majestic palace, as you have no doubt come to expect reading through the previous entries on the nations of the Heptarchy, the east is made up primarily of marketplaces and bazaars to take advantage of the roads leading into Dathan, the west of housing and amenities for the urban lowborns, and the north a great variety of temples and churches to the various sects of the Church of the First Saint. I will not dwell on the city any further, despite its rich history and fascinating past stretching back millennia, for if I did then I would surely run out of space in this letter.
As an eastern Klironomean nation, and one with such a large High-Klironomean influence, it is only natural that the primary faith even amongst the rural poor is the New-Church. The people of Kortheros still often believe in the Angels and call upon them alongside the saints, for few amongst the Klironomeans would deny the Angels their due no matter the line their faith takes, but they still attend the sermons of the Alithini-Agiathos and provide them with their servitude. This gives the New-Church far more strength than the old amongst the Kortherans, though the Old-Church still maintains a sizable minority of worshippers in the west of the kingdom and along its coast. There are a few pockets of other cults as well hidden amongst the masses; both the Ichorian Cult as well as the Cult of Anawroth maintain small congregations amongst the aforementioned Old-Church dominant regions, making the south-west of the kingdom rather more diverse in belief than the rest of Kortheros.
The recent outbreaks of the black grave have not left Kortheros unscathed, and for many moons the streets of Tyranopolis were empty of all life and choked with the unburied bodies of the dead. The Saints looked upon the ancient city of tyrants, and found it wanting. Whatever sins were committed in that city were enough to warrant a full three tenths of the population being struck from the ranks of the living, whilst the rest either fled the city or barricaded themselves in their homes. The recovery of the city was, to the full credit of the Kortheran royal family, a well organised and swift affair. As soon as it was clear that the disease had rescinded, a coordinated effort was made by the royal guards and various groups affiliated with either the merchants or the church to bury the slain, clean the streets, and provide aid to those who needed help to get back on their feet. The city was struck hard by the black grave, that much is true, but through a disciplined and organised aid plan it stands strong again already.
The Kortheran army may be far smaller than that of Licotemos, but of the two I know well which one I'd rather have backing me in any battle. There are five-thousand Armsmen in Kortheros along with some two-thousand knights, making for one of the largest professional armies in the Heptarchy. Aside from these forces there are also around eighteen-thousand levies that can be called upon in times of war, of which around two-thousand belong to the vaunted 'Borderrunners'. These men and women form an excellent fast response force, riding on horseback to the battlefield and then fighting with spear, shield, and shortbow. Manning the Dathanian border, and occasionally crossing over it, has left these men and women with a great deal of combat experience that is much appreciated when the Angel of War comes calling to Tyranopolis' gates, and more than once have these brave fighters found themselves as the first and last line of defence for those behind them. After all, if they will not fight to protect their homes, why should they expect the king's men to do so for them?
Kortheros is both the most and the least of the Klironomean kingdoms. Strong, and yet not strong enough to strike outwards. Rich, but not united enough to make good use of it's wealth. Fearsome and storied, but still lacking in history when compared to the long line of nations who once knew the rich Kortheran Belt as the workshop of their lands. A fearsome adversary, to be sure, but not so fierce as to be untouchable.
I must confess to further worry even as I wrote this letter. I apologise if at any point my thoughts became rambling or scattered, but there is so much to consider at the moment. Rhema has written to me once more detailing the lull in raiding that we have experienced from the south these last few moons, but I cannot help but feel that this is to be the calm before the storm. I am oft kept awake at night by the thought of my brother manning the walls far to the south against the forces of the Al-Alema, the thought that this recent drop in raiding is as the tide pulling back from the sea only to later descend upon the shore as a wave as tall as the spires of a cathedral.
The Master of Silver has provided me with a few more little whispers from court in regards to my sister's machinations. She seems to have brokered more than a few deals and made a great many promises as of late, hoping for support in some as of yet unknown endeavour. There is little doubt in my mind as to what that will entail. As soon as my father passes away I fear I must retrace the steps I took in the rebellion to once again strike south and then march to the capital, although this time I will be fighting against those holed up within the walls as opposed to fighting for them.
I truly hope that matters in Polaeros are better than those in my own homeland. The lands under my purview have prospered since the end of the last war, but if I should falter in the war to come I fear that all of our progress will be washed away and forgotten. I do not want another war against my own countrymen, but I fail to see another path forwards for my father's kingdom.
Matters in Owkrestos have quieted down somewhat, despite the fears of Lord Blackoak rising in rebellion against King Aleksandar. Tensions remain high in the wild kingdom, but for now the threat of war seems to have been averted. The tinderbox remains dry, however, and at any point a stray spark could set their land aflame.
It does seem to me that a pattern is forming across the Heptarchy. We seem to be living through the beginnings of an age of upheaval as the old ways finally rot away and newer players enter the field. A wave of potential rebellions, civil wars, and sectarian conflicts seems only a few years away if one looks closely at the state of the world; diplomatic channels become guarded, then terse, then shut down entirely. Traders are screened with increasing scrutiny as they pass through city gates. Disease and famine subside, but only to allow their older brother a turn at the board. It is war who wakes, war who will ravage our lands once more as soon as the clarion call is sounded, and men will readily take up arms to slaughter their brothers once more. War comes to the kingdoms of the Klironomoi, and may the Angels help us all if we aren't ready.
Your friend, now and always,
Prince Lykourgos Sperakos.