The Order of Tempered Fate

The Order’s Ranks and Hierarchy

Such an immense institution required order and structure. Over the centuries, the Order of Tempered Fate evolved into a tightly woven hierarchy, each tier entrusted with a distinct and chilling duty. At its pinnacle stands the High Preceptor.   The High Preceptor is not merely a spiritual leader but a master of law, philosophy, and statecraft. He or she is the living embodiment of the Codex, empowered to interpret Almerys’ Last Whisper and dictate how the doctrine applies to the shifting tides of politics and rebellion. The High Preceptor’s word carries nearly the same weight as that of the Emperor himself.   Beneath the High Preceptor serve the Silent Orators. These individuals are the voice of the Order, delivering sermons and decrees across the Empire. They speak in measured tones, their voices trained to sway crowds without a single wasted word. It is said that a Silent Orator can condemn a village to ruin or save it from execution with a mere gesture.   Ashwrights carry out the physical destruction of the arcane. They are the burners of forbidden texts, the defilers of magical relics, and the overseers of public pyres. Clad in blackened robes lined with ash-grey trim, they wield torches and flame as tools of purity. The sight of an Ashwright approaching a library or temple is enough to send shudders through any gathering.   Iconoclast Priests walk a narrower line, tasked with dismantling the remnants of divine worship that might threaten mortal supremacy. They infiltrate temples and dismantle rituals, ensuring no miracles slip past imperial scrutiny. Some still secretly mourn the loss of the old gods, even as they tear down altars in their names.   Stonekeepers function as the Empire’s educators and watchers. They administer imperial schools, ensuring that history is taught as the Order commands. They embed themselves in communities, recording names, faces, and whispered secrets, ever vigilant for signs of arcane resurgence.   Remembrancers are tasked with rewriting history itself. Working in vast scriptoriums deep within Charendell, they carefully remove references to the old faiths, to forgotten magical theories, and even to individuals who have been declared “unwritten.” They sculpt new narratives, ensuring that future generations will remember only the version of history that suits the Order’s design.   Perhaps the most feared are the Brandwrights. These are the inquisitors and enforcers who interrogate the accused. They wield the power to brand individuals as heretics, both physically and magically. A Brandwright’s mark can silence a tongue, cause searing pain if magic is attempted, or warp the senses until obedience is the only option left.   Together, these ranks form a network so vast and deep that no corner of the Empire escapes their gaze. From bustling city streets to the farthest mountain village, the Order of Tempered Fate is present, watching, listening, and shaping the realm according to a single, iron truth:  

“Fate bends to the will of mortals, or it breaks us all.”

The Order’s Hand in the Cleanses

It was through the Order of Tempered Fate that the Empire carried out its most devastating acts. The First and Second Cleanses stand as the grim proof of how an institution born from fear could become an instrument of both salvation and terror.  

The First Cleanse

During the First Cleanse, the Order moved in quiet precision. It began with whispered lists drawn up in hidden chambers, as Stonekeepers and Remembrancers scoured records for families whose bloodlines showed the faintest glimmer of arcane heritage. Ashwrights prepared torches, and Brandwrights readied their irons.   At first, the Order maintained the illusion of mercy. Wizards were stripped of titles, banished from courtly halls, and cast out from noble houses whose names they had once brought prestige and power. Families were marked, seared with symbols upon their flesh that declared them forever tainted. Entire villages, some of them known for generations as centers of harmless arcane crafts or gentle divinations, were uprooted under imperial banners and herded into distant imperial holdings. These settlements became silent prisons under the constant watch of the Order.   While soldiers enforced the Order’s will, Ashwrights ignited the heart of cultural memory. Libraries burned. Scrolls crackled into cinders under torchlight. Tomes that held secrets of leyline mapping, magical philosophy, and divine miracles fell to ash in great pyres that lit the night skies of Charendell. The flames devoured not just knowledge, but identity itself, ensuring that future generations would grow up in a world bereft of magical heritage. The Empire claimed this was mercy. They said:  

“The arcane calls too sweetly; better it be silenced than beckon us to ruin.”

  But beneath the Empire’s proclamations, the Order whispered darker truths among themselves. Containment was not enough. They dreamt of a world where magic was not merely restrained but erased entirely, a world where prophecy would never again tear the land asunder.  

The Second Cleanse

In time, whispers gave way to iron resolve. Nearly a century after the Saint was bound, the fear that had driven the Order’s founding became an obsession. Leaders of the Order gathered beneath the vaulted ceilings of the Codex Halls and declared that silence alone was no longer enough. The time had come to purge the world of magic entirely. The High Preceptor rose before the assembly and uttered words that would echo through history:  

“To show mercy to a spellborn is to damn a thousand innocents.”

  Thus began the Second Cleanse, no longer an act of displacement but an era of death. Brandwrights carried new decrees through the Empire’s cities. Silent Orators preached sermons declaring that arcane blood was a disease that must be cut away to save the body of the realm. Soldiers moved under cover of darkness, following lists prepared by the Stonekeepers.   In cities, blood stained the cobblestones as public executions unfolded before trembling crowds. In distant villages, entire communities vanished overnight. Smouldering ruins remained where homes and temples had once stood. People who had once whispered small cantrips over seeds to bless a harvest were dragged from their beds and declared traitors and heretics. Fear consumed the Empire like a sickness. Neighbours turned on neighbours. Parents concealed their children’s minor talents, praying they might remain unnoticed. The Order’s presence grew ever more chilling, for it was not only spells and artifacts they sought but also memories and truths. Even the smallest hint of arcane heritage became a death sentence. A child’s luminous eyes, a dream that spoke of possible futures, a scar shaped like a sigil, any of these could doom an entire family.   In the aftermath of the Second Cleanse, Aeravalz stood changed. It was a realm shorn of dragons, stripped of divine miracles, and ruled by silence. The Order had carved deep scars into the soul of the Empire, believing such wounds were a small price to pay for survival.   Unknown to the Order, in darkened cellars, hidden caves, and distant rebel strongholds, voices began to whisper that perhaps the Order’s path would not save the world, but only sow seeds for an even greater calamity. And so the Order continued its tireless vigil, convinced that only they stood between the Empire and oblivion.

The Order’s Reach in the Present Age

Refugees and The Resistance

Even as the Order’s grip tightens, resistance stirs. The Empire’s relentless advance has driven countless souls to flight. Refugees slip across borders beneath moonlight, carrying secrets and sorrow in equal measure.   These refugees come from all walks of life. Some are mages and scholars, terrified of the fate that awaits those who possess forbidden knowledge. Others are simple farmers whose children displayed sparks of hidden talent, forced to abandon home and heritage to save their bloodlines from extermination. Entire families vanish into the forests and mountain passes, guided by hidden paths maintained by networks of dissenters who still believe in a world where magic and mortals might coexist. Smugglers lead caravans through winding valleys, trading secrecy for loyalty and coin. In hidden caves and remote villages, safe havens exist where old magic still flickers in secret. Here, healers dare to speak forgotten spells, and scrolls saved from the Ashwrights’ fires are studied under candlelight.   Beyond the Empire’s borders, neighbouring kingdoms struggle to decide their response. Some close their gates, fearful of imperial reprisal if they shelter mages. Others quietly accept the exiles, weaving them into their societies while bracing for the inevitable imperial demands to return those who have fled.   But one kingdom stands apart: the Carwearth Kingdom. Unlike others who weigh diplomacy and fear, Carwearth has openly declared its willingness to fight back. It is a realm known not only for its fierce independence but for the strength of its armies, which rank among the largest on the continent. Carwearth’s forces are not composed of ordinary soldiers alone. They march alongside mages of formidable skill, dragon riders whose beasts wheel and roar across the skies, and regiments formed from the diverse peoples of many races and magical lineages. Even creatures once thought wild and untamable have pledged loyalty to Carwearth’s banner, drawn by a shared hatred of the Empire’s merciless purges.   Carwearth has also become the greatest sanctuary for refugees. No other realm has opened its gates so widely or risked so much to shelter those fleeing Aeravalz’s tyranny. Encampments have grown into thriving towns where humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin, and magical beings live side by side. Carwearth’s rulers speak openly of justice and retribution, and of a future where magic is not merely tolerated but honored as part of the realm’s identity.   As the Empire’s shadow stretches further across Rhycullun, Carwearth stands as the brightest symbol of defiance, a kingdom already waging war against the Order of Tempered Fate. It is a refuge where those fleeing tyranny find protection, and a stronghold from which open resistance rises. Many now look to Carwearth with hope that it's courage will inspire other kingdoms to join the struggle, forging a united front that might one day shatter the silence the Empire seeks to impose.  

The Present Order

Inside the Empire, the Order of Tempered Fate remains an omnipresent force. The Codex of Silence continues to evolve, now thicker than ever, prescribing new decrees for handling refugees, controlling information flowing across borders, and purging even the hint of foreign magical influence.   Silent Orators tour border fortresses, speaking words calculated to sway not merely soldiers but newly conquered populations. Brandwrights travel with legions, ready to mark or execute any who resist the Empire’s doctrine. The Remembrancers work ceaselessly, rewriting histories not only of Aeravalz but of neighbouring lands newly brought under imperial sway. The doctrine remains unchanged:  

“Fate bends to the will of mortals, or it breaks us all.”

  For those within Aeravalz who dream of freedom, silence remains both shield and shackle. Parents pray their children will never show signs of arcane spark. Citizens watch their neighbours, torn between loyalty and the desperate instinct to protect their families. In every hidden corner of the world, whispers persist. Some say the Saint of Ashen Steps still dreams in his vault, and that his awakening might shatter the Empire’s silence once and for all. Others believe that only through unity and secrecy can the magic of Rhycullun be preserved long enough to find a way to coexist with mortal rule.   As the Order of Tempered Fate reaches further than ever before, its existence stands as the ultimate embodiment of an organisation rooted in controversial principles. It has become both shield and oppressor, a guardian of the realm who might also be its greatest threat. The flames of past Cleanses continue to burn in memory, and the future remains unwritten. But beneath the Empire’s iron calm, the same question simmers like an ember waiting to ignite:  

“Can silence truly save the world, or will it only ensure its eventual destruction?”