Kingdom of Leadenward

The Kingdom of Leadenward is the beating foundry-heart of the Thierry Free States, a paradox made manifest: a land of dueling nobles and smoking chimneys, of elegant courtly manners practiced beneath skies permanently bruised with soot. Spanning the twin archipelagos of Alpenward and Leadenward, the kingdom lies southeast of Lilianth — about four days by boat, assuming the winds and engines cooperate.

Once a patchwork of humble agricultural fiefdoms, Leadenward was reshaped by The Burn into an industrial titan. Today, it stands as the second most powerful industrial region in the Free States, surpassed only by Leiden, capital of the mighty Leidenstein Consortium.

Government

King Leopold Jikulari is known throughout the Free States as “The Capitalist King.” His philosophy blends monarchy with ruthless industrial economics. To Leopold, the kingdom is not a realm of subjects but a vast machine whose parts—people, factories, resources—must be arranged for maximum productivity.

He personally controls roughly one-fifth of all industrial power in the Kingdom. Through an intricate web of royal charters, private investments, and cartel alliances, he ensures that the Aluminum Vein remains firmly under his dominion. His court is a theatre of smoke-stained opulence: nobles duel for prestige on iron-wrought balconies, while below them colossal cranes swing loads of ore across open-air factories.

Leopold governs with three tenets:

Output is survival
Innovation is obligation
and power belongs to those who create.

— King Leopold Jikulari

Culture

Despite its grim environment, Leadenward boasts a culture that thrives in adversity.

The nobility remain obsessed with swordplay—an anachronistic contrast to the world of grease and Iron. Duels are common entertainment, with sparks from clashing blades blending into the glow of nearby furnaces.

Workers and civilians, however, bear the brunt of industrial progress. Chronic coughing fits, gray-blotched skin, and shortened lifespans define much of the population. Most Leadenwardians rely on imported produce or fish from movable offshore fisheries. Their food, their air, and even their water come at a cost.

Fashion embraces soot-resistant materials and dark leathers. Music echoes the rhythms of machinery—percussive, metallic, and hauntingly beautiful. Religion remains, though diminished; in many districts, industry itself has become a kind of deity.

Steel is immortal—may we be, too.

— Common Proverb

The Mercurial Society

Founded during Leadenward’s industrial ascension, The Mercurial Society became an intellectual powerhouse. Their headquarters—a sprawling complex of Brass domes, Mercury pipes, and alchemical workrooms—is both an academy and political faction.

Here, students study volatile substances, refine arcane reagents, and Engineer chemical processes for mass production. Innovation is encouraged; so is competition. Many of the society’s greatest minds, including the famed Dr. Elizabeth "Lizzy" Catcher , began their careers here before becoming disillusioned by the Society’s exploitation for profit.

History

Before The Burn, Leadenward was a sleepy, agrarian kingdom with little ambition and even less influence. Most of its people lived in small farming villages, offering tithes to minor local lords. Few had heard of the small twin archipelagos, and fewer still cared. The Burn changed everything.

The cataclysm cracked open mountains, exposed mineral veins, and destabilised ecosystems. Explorers, miners, and opportunists discovered high-altitude coal seams, mercury vents, steel-rich cores of mountains—and, most importantly, the Aluminum Vein of Alpenward. This discovery turned Leadenward overnight into a realm of unrestrained industrial frenzy. Factories sprang up faster than homes. Forges and foundries multiplied as fast as they could be built. With every new engine, conveyor, or arcane-reactor plant, Leadenward took another step toward becoming the industrial powerhouse it is today.

The Aluminum Vein of Alpenward

The Aluminum Vein is the single most valuable resource in the Altian Ocean. Lightweight, durable, and essential to modern arcano-industrial design, aluminum became the backbone of shipbuilding, aviation, Electrum integration, and experimental arcane mechanisms.

The sheer size of the Alpenward deposit transformed Leadenward from an insignificant backwater into a regional titan. Every neighboring state relies on the kingdom’s aluminum exports, giving Leadenward disproportionate leverage in political negotiation—and placing King Leopold Jikulari at the center of almost every major industrial advancement of the past decade.

Geography

Before The Burn, Leadenward was pastoral—a place of wind-bent barley, fish-rich coasts, and slow, steady life. Its people farmed hardy crops, built shrines on mountaintops, and traded little with their neighbours. Everything changed with the discovery of high-altitude coal seams, mercury pockets, steel-rich mountain cores, and—above all—the Aluminum Vein of Alpenward.

The geography of Leadenward is defined by abrupt contrasts: jagged volcanic spires rising from fog-choked seas, industrial belts built atop ancient river deltas, and mountain ranges that conceal both modern mines and prehistoric ruins. Below is an expanded breakdown of the region’s defining landscapes.

The Alpenward Peaks

A sawtooth chain of high-altitude mountains straddling the northern half of the kingdom. They house the kingdom’s most valuable resource—the Aluminum Vein—buried deep within razor-edged cliffs.

The air here is thin and metallic, tasting faintly of mercury vapour from natural vents. Snow rarely settles due to geothermal updrafts, leaving the peaks bare, wind-scoured, and unnervingly warm for their altitude.

Expeditions must contend with sudden rockfall, violent updrafts, and the eerie sensation of being watched—legends say the ancient ruins near the summits shift when no one is looking.

The Leadenward Lowlands

Once the breadbasket of the kingdom, this sprawling southern region is now a landscape of rust-coloured soil and ghostly agricultural towns.

The farms that once fed half the Free States now grow only brittle, poisoned vegetation. Old windmills stand beside the skeletal frames of new factories, forming a grim skyline of tradition and progress collapsing into each other.

Broad, slow-moving rivers—once clear—now ooze with the dark runoff of industry. Their banks are lined with barges, warehouses, and improvised dwellings for migrant labourers.

The Smogbelt Corridor

The industrial heart of the kingdom: a dense band of factories, forges, refineries, and smelting complexes stretching across both archipelagos.

Seen from above, it resembles a burning scar—constant plumes of black smoke rise into the sky, visible from miles along the sea routes.

Railway lines, conveyor chains, and arcane cable-trams crisscross the land like exposed nerves. The noise never stops: metal against metal, engines roaring, hammers ringing. Day and night blur in the ceaseless glow of furnace-light.

The Mercury Flats

A sprawling basin where natural mercury pools gather in shimmering lakes, reflecting the sky like molten mirrors.

This area is both a source of wealth and a deadly hazard. The air is thick with toxic vapours; birds flying overhead often fall from the sky mid-flight. Alchemists, however, consider the region a sacred laboratory—small research outposts dot the edges of the Flats, equipped with elaborate protective wards and filtering rigs.

Only licensed harvesters with specialized gear are permitted to enter. Even then, exposure has left many with trembling hands and silver-tinged eyes.

The Valewind Archipelago

A chain of smaller islands between Alpenward and Leadenward, constantly battered by fierce crosswinds funneling between the two larger landmasses.

These winds once powered thousands of windmills and sailing routes, but today the islands serve mostly as buffer zones—their forests cut down to fuel early industry, their central bays used as dumping grounds for slag and ash.

Still, Valewind is the least polluted part of the kingdom, home to scattered fishing communities and a stubborn culture of independence.

The Thronetop Ridges

Towering mountain ridges where ancient structures cling precariously to cliffsides.

These ruins—massive, geometric, and seamless—seem almost grown from the stone rather than built upon it. Their entrances are blocked by centuries of rock slides, and their interiors shift temperature unpredictably, as if reacting to intruders.

Archaeologists, mercenaries, cultists, and royal prospectors all vie for access, though few return with anything except haunting stories of metallic echoes and faint blue lights deep within the stone.

The Outer-Fog Waters

The stretch of open ocean surrounding the archipelagos, where movable fisheries drift in search of clean water.

Here, cold and warm currents collide, creating roiling fog banks that can swallow entire fleets. Sea serpents and other mutated wildlife are known to hunt in these mists, taking advantage of reduced visibility.

Despite the danger, the Outer-Fog Waters provide most of the kingdom’s edible fish—its last dependable food source not tainted by industrial decay.