Velbraith, the Ash-Tide Port

Six hours west of Setovia, where River Soot empties into the Ashen Ocean, sprawls the city of Velbraith. Though it lies beyond the Eternal Crown’s twilight, it beats as the hive’s naval heart and sea-gate — a place of hammer, tide, and indulgence.

Role: Velbraith is Setovia’s naval stronghold. Its shipyards thunder with unceasing hammers, forging ashsteel hulls and ember-sailed galleys. Every vessel of the Crown’s navy is baptized here with hymn and blood before it dares the waves of the Ashen Ocean. The clang of shipwrights is said to echo like a second Choir — iron and tide bound to covenant.

Economy: Velbraith provides what Setovia cannot in abundance: the harvest of the sea. Fishing fleets haul ash-whales, soot-crabs, and crimson-scaled fish, while coastal herds and terraces supply fresh meat and vegetables. Setovia’s orchards and eastern farmlands ensure survival with grain and fruit, so the hive would not starve without Velbraith. Yet the port is its table’s richness — without it, feasts would wither. Seafood and meats would vanish from noble banquets, taverns would go lean, and markets would depend more heavily on preserved stores and alchemic tonics. The hive would endure, but pride would taste of scarcity.

Governance: Velbraith is ruled not by vampire blood but by Harbor Lord Varros Keldane. Cruel, pragmatic, and utterly loyal to his pact with the Father, he enforces order with mortal severity. Dockworkers branded for idleness, sailors drowned in harbor chains, smugglers strung from the piers — these are his hallmarks. Mortals whisper his nickname, Lord of Chains, though never within earshot. Unlike the immortal Brood Commanders, Keldane knows his years are short, and so he rules all the harsher, desperate to leave behind a legacy of fear and obedience.

Culture & Vice: Velbraith is the hive’s city of sin, its loophole and release valve. By day its docks bustle with fishmongers and shipwrights; by night the city glitters like a carnival of ash. Gambling dens, brothels, fighting pits, and pleasure-houses line its streets, their lanterns burning until dawn. Mortals and foreigners pour fortunes into dice, cards, and velvet rooms where tithe and coin buy anything. Though slavery is banned within the Crown, Velbraith launders flesh through the guise of voluntary oath and life-debt. Outsiders desperate for passage into Setovia often pay with their own bodies or kin — some “volunteering” for Valessia’s vats or Seraphine’s drills to purchase freedom or absolve family debts. Officially, the Harbor Lord denies such trades, yet he orchestrates them with ruthless efficiency, ensuring Setovia’s streets remain “untainted” while the hive’s hunger is endlessly fed. In Velbraith, every desire is for sale — gambling, lust, flesh, or freedom — and choice itself is the cruelest illusion.

Apostle Alistaer: Velbraith is also the favored harbor of Apostle Alistaer, whose fleets dock here when not on campaign. His banners fly openly along its docks, and the Harbor Lord bends knee to him above all others. Mortals whisper that Velbraith belongs as much to Alistaer as to Setovia itself. When his ships return, the entire port trembles, as though the Crown itself shudders across the horizon.

Relationship to Setovia: Velbraith is not the hive’s only artery, but it is its western gate — anchoring Setovia to the Ashen Ocean, fattening its tables with luxury, and fueling its fleets with timber and salt. Without it, Setovia would endure — its orchards, farms, and alchemies ensuring survival — but its banquets would grow meager, its navy weaker, its pride diminished. To lose Velbraith is not to starve, but to bleed.

Dockside Saying:

“The Crown rules the sky, but Velbraith rules the night — and Alistaer commands both.”

First Impressions: Approaching Velbraith from the Ashen Ocean, the first sight is its sprawling harbor — a forest of black masts and ember-sailed galleons rising above the fog. The air reeks of salt, tar, and smoke, pierced by the constant clang of shipwright hammers. Green-domed casinos and pleasure-houses glitter along the waterfront, their lanterns burning even in daylight. To mortals, the city looks alive — always moving, always hungry.

Landmarks:

• The Black Shipyards: Endless docks of ashsteel and timber, where the hive’s warships are forged under the supervision of vampire engineers and mortal laborers.
• The Chainsward Piers: Execution docks where Harbor Lord Varros Keldane drowns mutineers in weighted chains — a spectacle both feared and admired.
• The Emerald Veil Casino: A sprawling pleasure-palace of green domes and gilded glass, serving as Velbraith’s center of gambling, sin, and unofficial diplomacy.
• The Crimson Fane: A blood-market hidden within old warehouses, where voluntary oaths and life-debt contracts are sealed before “donors” are sent eastward to Setovia.
• Alistaer’s Docks: A fortified stretch of harbor reserved for Apostle Alistaer’s black fleet, bristling with crimson banners and guarded day and night.

Atmosphere: Velbraith never sleeps. By day, fishermen drag nets of crimson-scaled fish through the streets, auctioning their catches in salt-stained markets. By night, music, dice, and screams spill into the air as brothels, fighting pits, and casinos ignite the city in perpetual revelry. The city feels both free and shackled — a carnival of indulgence tightly bound by Varros Keldane’s chains.