Romano

Romano occupies the broad northern sweep of the Dominia Imperii, forming a vast arc of land that rises gently away from the fertile cradle of Solaria and toward the harsher frontiers of the continent. To the south, the province blends seamlessly with the capital’s rich countryside; to the west and northwest it is framed by the rugged stone boundaries of the Dwarrow Confederacy; and along its far northern edge it touches the unstable lands of the Warborn, where Romano maintains a 200-kilometre defensive frontier. Its geography gives it a dual nature: heartland stability at its centre, vigilance along its borders.

The southern half of Romano resembles Solaria in temperament: broad, rolling grasslands well suited to crop cultivation and pastoral farming, dotted with long-established towns and estates. The air is cool, the soil deep and cooperative, and the terrain gentle enough to have welcomed some of the earliest expansions of the young Imperium. But as one travels north, the land undergoes a steady transformation. The fertile greens begin to pale; the grasses thin into hardy drought-tolerant species; the soil grows mineral-rich and dry; and the hills rise almost imperceptibly into a wide semi-arid plateau. This northern rise is a landscape of wind, scrub, thornbrush, and long, unbroken horizons — a natural buffer between Romano’s settled districts and the unpredictable Warborn territories beyond.

Romano’s defining feature, however, is not simply its terrain but the great Imperial highways that carve their purpose through it. No province in the Empire carries more of the continent’s movement across its breadth.

The most renowned of these is the Northwatch Road, the great northern artery of the Imperium. It leaves Solaria at Novaium and strides across the grasslands into Romano through Durocona, where caravans gather before crossing the province’s open middle reaches. From there it runs to Lerunum, then to Conflua, the province’s central crossroads city. Beyond Conflua, the road bends eastward toward Canoba in Verum Auctoritas, before sweeping north to the Elven capital of Highwatch and then west along the coastline until it reaches the Dwarven capital of Northwatch. Through this single road, Romano connects Solaria, the Elder Courts, and the Dwarrow Confederacy — a triad of alliances and responsibilities unique on the continent.

The province’s second major road, the Confluan Trail, departs from Conflua and winds northwest through Romano’s interior valleys. It links Confluentia, Louris, and Chincoy before crossing the Imperial border into the Dwarrow Confederacy and continuing toward Northwatch. Though quieter than the Northwatch Road, this trail is Romano’s economic backbone, ferrying grain, stone, metals, and travellers beneath a sky broken only by the curve of distant hills.

A third, less celebrated but strategically vital route leaves Lerunum and travels westward through Canoduba, following the southern rim of the semi-arid plateau. Near Eutopomia, it divides: one branch descends toward Agentum, while another veers south to Sicagusa, and from there west to Azla or south toward Bhiccon in Solaria. This road system forms the province’s western and southwestern lifeline, linking Romano to the Empire’s frontier and coastal markets.

In the southeast, Gholzog anchors a web of roads that bind Romano closely to Solaria’s northern districts and the eastern provinces. Its position at the meeting point between plains and low woodland makes it a natural hub of trade and military movement.

Romano’s geography — from its fertile southern plains to its northern dry plateau, and from its open horizons to the monumental roads that span them — has shaped it into a province defined by connection. It is the land through which the Empire strides northward, the hinge between heartland and frontier, and the great corridor along which the Dominia Imperii speaks to its neighbours in stone, grain, and purpose.

The ecosystem of Romano reflects its position as the northern companion to Solaria — a province where Imperial cultivation dominates the south, where hardy grasslands sweep across the centre, and where the land gradually hardens into a semi-arid plateau as it approaches the Warborn frontier. Centuries of settlement have shaped the southern half of Romano into a familiar agricultural tapestry: fields of grain and fodder crops, mixed grazing lands for cattle and horses, and orderly patches of orchard and woodland preserved along riverbanks. These southern ecosystems mirror those of Solaria, benefiting from similar climates and long-standing human stewardship.

As one moves northward, however, Romano’s ecology begins to shift. The grasses become tougher and more drought-tolerant; wildflowers give way to hardy shrubs; and the soil supports a distinctive semi-arid biome where life is spaced wider and grows with deliberate tenacity. These northern plateaus host species adapted to sharp seasonal contrasts — plants with deep taproots and waxed leaves, small burrowing mammals that shelter from harsh winds, and birds whose migratory cycles follow the long north–south highways rather than the local watercourses. While not as hostile as true desert terrain, the northern rise is a land that demands resilience, and its native species embody that trait.

Romano’s central regions form a transitional ecosystem where cultivated lands blend with native prairie. Here, Imperial livestock graze alongside indigenous herbivores, and hybrid plant varieties — bred from Old Earth crops and local species — help stabilise soils and improve drought resistance. These transitional zones are especially rich in pollinators, as flowering grasses and hedgerows provide long, staggered blooming seasons that support a diverse insect ecology.

The province’s rivers, though fewer than in Solaria, sustain narrow bands of riparian life: reeds, rushes, and moisture-loving shrubs; amphibious species that thrive in mild winters; and freshwater fish that trace their lineage to both Old Earth introductions and native Exilum Novum stock. These watercourses form vital ecological corridors, carrying animal life and seed dispersal far into Romano’s interior.

At the northern frontier, the ecosystem becomes more austere and more responsive to external pressures. The semi-arid plateau marks the meeting point between Romano’s hardy grasslands and the dense, unpredictable forests of the Warborn. Species here show heightened caution: prey animals evolve sharper senses, birds nest in low, concealed sites, and hardy shrubs grow in scattered clumps that cling to sheltered depressions. Though the Warborn frontier is cultural rather than ecological, the land itself bears the imprint of centuries of conflict — animals favouring quieter valleys, migratory paths skewing away from contested ridgelines, and vegetation recovering in slow, irregular patterns.

Despite these contrasts, Romano’s ecosystem is stable, mature, and well integrated. The long-settled southern plains, the transitional prairies of the centre, and the rugged northern plateau form a coherent ecological gradient shaped by climate, geography, and human management. More than any other northern province, Romano demonstrates how the Imperium’s agricultural heartland can extend into harsher latitudes without breaking ecological balance. It is a land where cultivation yields gracefully to wilderness, where native resilience supports human enterprise, and where the Empire’s influence ends not in conquest but in adaptation.

Seasonal rhythms in Romano unfold along a gentle but unmistakable gradient, shaped by latitude, elevation, and the widening arc of land that transitions from heartland grassland to the semi-arid plateau of the north. In the southern districts, where the climate mirrors Solaria’s, the year follows a predictable pattern: early spring warmth stirs fields of grain into growth, blossoms appear along orchard rows, and migratory birds arrive in coordinated waves along the great Imperial highways. Summers are warm and bright, favouring long grazing periods and abundant harvests, while autumn brings steady cooling and the slow reddening of hedgerow and woodland. Winters are mild, defined more by frost-touched mornings than by lasting cold.

As one moves northward through the central plains, these cycles shift in tone rather than structure. Spring arrives later and with sharper contrasts; grasses grow in staggered, uneven bursts that reflect soil depth and local rainfall. Summers remain productive but drier, the heat lingering longer into the evenings as the land broadens toward the plateau. Autumn brings clearer skies and sudden temperature dips, prompting native herbivores to migrate southward along well-established corridors. Winters here are crisper and more prolonged, though still moderated by the sheltering presence of the heartland provinces to the south.

The northern plateau experiences a more dramatic seasonal profile. Spring comes hesitantly, with hardy shrubs and drought-tolerant grasses blooming in short, efficient bursts timed to make the most of fleeting moisture. Summers are dry and wind-laden, shaping plant behaviour toward deep rooting and infrequent flowering. Autumn arrives early, sweeping across the plateau in a wave of cooling winds that drive small mammals into burrows and send birds southward along the roads rather than the waterways. Winters can be biting, though rarely lethal, marked by wide, open skies and the kind of cold that seems to travel unbroken across the land.

Animal behaviour reflects this gradient. Livestock in the south follow patterns nearly identical to those in Solaria, with long grazing seasons and predictable winter dormancy. Central-plain species blend these patterns with native instincts, adjusting breeding cycles to the mixed rainfall patterns of mid-Romano. On the plateau, native fauna operate in tight seasonal windows—feeding intensively after spring rains, sheltering during the dry peaks of summer, and migrating or burrowing during winter’s cold sweep.

Despite its proximity to the Warborn frontier, Romano’s ecosystem remains largely undisturbed by arcane irregularities, unlike the Rift-altered lands of Solaria. Its cycles are shaped instead by terrain and climate: the steady fade from fertile south to austere north, the influence of tall grasslands and dry plateaus, and the role of Imperial roads as migratory pathways for both people and wildlife.

The result is a province whose ecological tempo is unified yet varied—a single rhythm expressed in shifting registers as one travels northward. Romano’s cycles embody the province itself: orderly in the south, adaptive in the centre, and resilient at the frontier.

Romano’s most distinctive natural phenomenon is the Coldfall Wind, a sharp, descending current of chilled air that sweeps southward from the highlands of the Dwarrow Confederacy. Though the dwarves themselves dismiss it as nothing more than “mountain breath,” Imperial scholars have long noted that the wind’s pattern is too regular — too deliberate — to be explained purely by topography. Its true origin, they argue, lies far deeper: in the ancient Rift that brought the Dwarrow homeland into this world.

The Coldfall Wind forms high above the Dwarrow mountains, gathering in the rocky bowls and clefts that crown the Confederacy’s upper reaches. When it spills southward it carries with it a dryness and a piercing chill unlike any other wind in the Dominia. Even in the mild summers of Romano, it can scrape along the northern plateau with a cutting edge, stirring dust, bowing the hardy scrub, and carrying with it faint mineral scents of stone and deep-earth metals. In winter the wind becomes sharper still, driving cold fingers deep into the province and heralding the earliest frosts.

Imperial natural philosophers note that the Coldfall Wind seems strongest along the exact line of the dwarven Rift boundary, as though the ancient tear between worlds still exhaled a memory of its original climate. Some whisper that the wind is “the last echo of an older cold,” a remnant of the subterranean depths from which the Dwarrow first emerged. The Collegium Arcanum, for its part, acknowledges an arcane anomaly beneath the mountains but has never classified it as dangerous — only persistent.

For the people of Romano, the Coldfall Wind is simply a fact of life. Farmers time early plantings around its first appearance; shepherds know to drive their flocks south when its bite deepens; and travellers describe it as the unmistakable sign that one has reached the northern half of the province. It is not destructive, but it lends the land a hardening character — a reminder that Romano stands close to a frontier shaped by both stone and Rift.

Romano experiences a broad climatic gradient that mirrors its south-to-north transformation from heartland plains to semi-arid frontier. In the southern and central regions, the climate follows the familiar rhythm of the Imperial interior: warm, mild summers; cool but forgiving winters; and long, temperate springs and autumns that support high agricultural productivity. Rainfall is moderate and well-timed, arriving in steady seasonal bands that favour grain, pasture, and the hardy fruit varieties cultivated across the province.

As the land rises toward the northern plateau, the climate hardens. Summers grow drier and more wind-scoured, with long stretches of clear sky and only sporadic rainfall. Winters arrive earlier, marked by sudden temperature drops and sharper frosts that sweep across the open ground. Spring progresses hesitantly in these northern reaches, with new growth appearing in short, opportunistic bursts after each passing rain.

The province’s climate is further shaped by the Coldfall Wind, the chilled breath that spills southward from the Dwarrow mountains. This wind can temper even the warmest months in the north of Romano, cooling evenings, accelerating evaporation, and giving the plateau its characteristic dryness. In winter, the Coldfall Wind intensifies, driving frost deeper into the soil and occasionally carrying flurries of crystalline dust from the highlands.

Despite this stark shift, Romano’s overall climate is stable and predictable, following a steady annual pattern that allows both agriculture and pastoralism to flourish. It lacks the arcane irregularities found in Rift-bound provinces, and its seasons — though varied — are reliable enough to have shaped centuries of settlement. Even at the edges where scrubland meets frontier, the climate possesses a steadying cadence: harsh in places, but never capricious.

Romano’s flora and fauna reflect its gradual shift from the well-tended agricultural south to the austere scrublands of the northern plateau. In the southern and central districts, centuries of cultivation have created an ecosystem strongly shaped by Old Earth species. Wheat, barley, oats, and hardy legumes dominate the fields, bordered by orchards of apples, pears, and stonefruit that have thrived in the province’s temperate climate. These crops grow alongside familiar Old Earth grasses, clover, and hedgerow shrubs introduced during the early years of settlement. Livestock — cattle, sheep, goats, and horses — graze across the rolling plains, forming the backbone of Romano’s agrarian economy. Over generations, selective breeding has produced local hybrids: drought-tolerant grains, thick-coated sheep adapted to cooler nights, and horse lines prized for endurance along the long Imperial roads.

As the land rises toward the semi-arid north, the ecology changes markedly. Here, native Exilum Novum species reclaim dominance. The plateau supports hardy shrubs with waxed leaves, deep-rooted grasses that resist wind erosion, and scattered groves of twisted, drought-resistant trees that grow in sheltered folds of the land. Wildflowers bloom only briefly after seasonal rains, but do so in vivid, concentrated bursts that seed the plateau before fading again.

The native fauna of the northern plateau is equally specialised. Small burrowing mammals take shelter from the biting winds, emerging in cautious intervals to forage among the scrub. Lean, long-legged herbivores graze in small bands, moving constantly to follow the sparse vegetation. Predatory birds circle on rising thermals, scanning for movement in the open landscape, while migratory species follow the great north–south roads rather than waterways, mirroring human paths with uncanny consistency.

At the interface between cultivated south and native north lies a broad ecological blending zone where hybridisation has quietly taken root. Some introduced plant species have crossed with native analogues, producing hybrid grasses and grains now unique to Romano’s central plains. Wildlife has also adapted to the province’s human presence: native foragers glean from harvested fields, while domesticated animals occasionally take on behavioural patterns influenced by native species.

Across its breadth, Romano’s flora and fauna form an ecosystem defined by stability in the south, adaptability in the centre, and resilience in the north — a living mirror of the province’s role as both heartland and frontier of the Imperium.

Romano’s natural wealth begins with its vast grasslands, which provide some of the most dependable agricultural territory in the northern Imperium. The southern and central plains yield abundant grain and fodder crops, while long-grazed pastures sustain thriving herds of cattle, sheep, and horses. These domesticated lines, shaped by centuries of selective breeding, are particularly valued for their endurance on long overland routes — a direct reflection of Romano’s position as the Empire’s great northern crossroads.

Beneath these plains lie broad, shallow mineral deposits, including iron-bearing soils, limestone shelves, and extensive clay beds. Though modest compared to the deep forges of the Dwarrow Confederacy, Romano’s deposits are plentiful, easy to extract, and located near its major settlements. This has given rise to a strong local industry in masonry, ceramics, and tool-making. Many of the Empire’s standardised road markers, tiles, and agricultural implements are produced in Romano’s workshops.

In the semi-arid northern plateau, the land offers fewer agricultural riches but compensates with hardy native resources. Shrubs with resinous sap provide oils and dyes prized by frontier apothecaries; drought-resistant grasses yield tough fibres used for rope, coarse cloth, and durable harnessing; and semi-wild herbivore species supply meat and hides to plateau settlements. These hardy materials give Romano’s northern crafts a distinct texture — rugged, practical, and long-wearing.

With no major rivers, Romano depends on groundwater for its stability. Wells, cisterns, deep aquifers, and carefully engineered catchments collect seasonal rainfall across the plains and store it for use throughout the year. In the plateau regions, water is scarcer but still sufficient: natural depressions and stone basins fill during brief seasonal rains, and many northern settlements sit atop reliable springs. This engineered and natural water network is one of Romano’s quiet triumphs — a reminder that a province need not be river-fed to be well sustained.

Finally, Romano’s greatest resource — though not a material one — is its role as the Empire’s northern conduit. The great Imperial roads funnel an unbroken stream of goods through the province: Solarian grain, Elven craftwork, Dwarrow metals, frontier livestock, desert dyes, and trade goods from every Rift-born culture. The wealth that passes through Romano may not originate here, but it shapes the province all the same, enriching towns, supporting markets, and sustaining a vibrant interprovincial economy.

Together, these resources — fertile plains, accessible minerals, hardy frontier plants, engineered water systems, and unmatched commercial flow — form the foundation of Romano’s long prosperity and its enduring importance to the Dominia Imperii.

Romano’s history begins in the formative decades following the Rift, when the settlers of Solaria — newly grounded in an unfamiliar world — looked northward to the vast sweep of open plains that stretched beyond the capital. These rolling grasslands offered both opportunity and uncertainty, but they were stable, arable, and free of the arcane distortions that lingered near the Rift. Thus Romano became the first province formally carved from the lands beyond Solaria, marking the Empire’s earliest and most natural expansion.

The southern plains yielded eagerly to Old Earth cultivation. Farms grew into villages, villages into towns, and soon the expanding settlements formed a chain of life that reached steadily toward the northern horizon. As these communities matured, engineers and surveyors traced the great roads that would define the province: the Northwatch Road, which would one day bind Solaria to the Elven capital of Highwatch and the Dwarrow stronghold of Northwatch; and the Confluan Trail, which carried trade and travel toward the northern mountains. Through these routes Romano became not just an extension of Solaria, but a pivotal corridor between the heartland and the northern realms.

Romano’s early development was shaped profoundly by its neighbours. To the north, the Elves and Dwarrow had established themselves in the lands brought through their own Rifts. The first meetings were cautious, then curious, and eventually cooperative. Within a century of the Rift, Romano’s farmers were trading grain for dwarven metals, while Elven envoys travelled south along the new Imperial highways to broker diplomatic accords. These early pacts stabilised the northern frontier and ensured that Romano grew as a land of roads, markets, and cross-cultural exchange rather than conflict.

The only true pressure came from the north-west, where the borders of Romano approach the shifting territories of the Warborn. Here the land rises into a semi-arid plateau, and for centuries this harsh terrain served as both barrier and battleground. Raids, skirmishes, and border feuds flared intermittently, prompting the construction of watchtowers and fortified waystations along the plateau’s rim. Though Romano was never overrun, the north-western frontier forged a provincial temperament distinct from the calm heartland to its south — one shaped by vigilance, readiness, and the wind-scraped austerity of the borderlands.

Throughout the middle centuries of the Imperium, Romano grew into the northern hinge of the realm. Its cities flourished along the great highways; its markets became meeting points for Elven artisans, Dwarrow traders, and Imperial merchants; and its central position made it a favoured site for diplomatic congresses. Many of the Empire’s enduring treaties — including revisions to the Dwarrow trade accords and early Elven travel compacts — were negotiated in Romano’s cities, where infrastructure and neutrality made such gatherings possible.

Even during the Empire’s single recorded internal crisis — the brief provincial uprising sparked by the dismissal of a frontier commander — Romano remained loyal. Its roads carried the legions northward, restoring order before the rebellion could fracture the Dominia Imperii. Chroniclers later called this “Romano’s quiet defence of the realm,” noting that a province built on connection naturally resisted division.

In the modern era, Romano stands as one of the Empire’s most stable and enduring provinces: prosperous in the south, resilient in the centre, and steadfast along the windswept north-western frontier. It asks for no glory and demands no ornament; yet its roads, its steadiness, and its long history of cooperation with the Elven and Dwarrow realms make it indispensable to the Imperial project.

As historians write:
“Solaria shaped the Empire’s birth, but Romano shaped its endurance.”

Romano attracts travellers not with spectacle but with movement — with the sense of a province made of open roads, wide skies, and the quiet promise of a journey well undertaken. Visitors often describe Romano as the place where the Empire feels most traversable, a land where the great Imperial highways unfurl across the plains like invitations to explore. For many, it is the first true taste of the Empire beyond the ceremonial grandeur of Solaria: less formal, more expansive, and marked by a lived-in authenticity.

The Northwatch Road draws the greatest number of travellers. Merchants, scholars, and pilgrims follow its long ascent through Romano toward the Elven capital of Highwatch or onward to the Dwarrow stronghold of Northwatch. Inns, caravanserai, and small market-towns line the route, each offering its own blend of provincial hospitality and cosmopolitan bustle. Travellers from distant lands often remark that Romano is where one first meets the Empire’s northern neighbours in earnest — Elven envoys taking rest before diplomatic crossings, Dwarrow traders exchanging news over spiced broth, and Imperial legates riding in disciplined columns between frontier postings.

The Confluan Trail appeals to those seeking quieter journeys. Its path winds through Romano’s central valleys, passing through landscapes that shift from fertile plains to rugged hillsides. Travellers come for the sense of continuity the trail provides — a route older in temperament than in age, bordered by ancestral farmsteads, modest shrines, and markets whose rhythms have changed little across generations. Artisans and historians alike walk this trail to study Romano’s stonework, ceramics, and rural traditions.

In the southern half of Romano, tourism leans toward pastoral charm. Visitors seek out estate-hosted feasts, horse-breeding demonstrations, and agricultural festivals that celebrate the province’s role as the Empire’s northern granary. The province’s famed long-horizon sunsets draw artists and poets who speak of Romano’s light as “the Empire in repose.”

The northern plateau, by contrast, attracts a different sort of traveller. Adventurers and scholars journey here to experience the austere beauty of the semi-arid scrublands and the chill sweep of the Coldfall Wind from the Dwarrow mountains. Frontier-watch stations, though military in purpose, often host travellers who come to learn about Warborn culture, study the shifting ecology of the plateau, or simply witness the threshold between civilisation and the wild. Though not dangerous under escort, the plateau offers a sense of rawness rare in the heartland provinces.

Romano is not a province of grand monuments or mystical anomalies; it is a province of roads, horizons, and the steady pulse of travel. For many who visit, its appeal lies in the way it reveals the Empire’s continuity — how distant realms, distinct cultures, and varied landscapes are bound together by the simple act of moving from one place to another. In Romano, the journey is itself the destination.