Smiths of Saliana

Under the shadow of the inverted pyramid that is Saliana , where forges roar and the scent of hot Iron blends with alchemical vapor, the Smiths of Saliana work without rest. They are not merely blacksmiths, nor simple craftsmen — they are architects of war. Formed in the early years after The Burn and funded directly by Archduke Mateo de la Sombra, the Guild was created with a singular mission: to forge Armor and Weapons worthy of defending Espen’s rising power. Their halls stand deep in the mid-terraces of the ziggurat, a labyrinth of foundries lit by the hellish glow of molten metal, where master smiths and alchemists labor side by side to push the boundaries of what Armor can be.

Their crowning achievement — and the pride of Saliana — is the Forgeplate, a suit of alchemical power Armor that has reshaped warfare across Nyria. To see a knight clad in Forgeplate is to witness walking siege machinery: towering, impossibly strong, and wreathed in fumes of burning aether-oil. The suit is grown and forged as much as it is built. Plates of layered Steel are hammered together with Electrum filaments and alchemical bone-resin, then infused in the Vat Chambers where runic etching liquefies and fuses into the metal like veins. When a knight dons the Armor for the first time, the plate bonds to them through a ritual application of tincture and heat — a second skin sealed by flame.

Once joined, the Forgeplate moves as the wearer moves, turning their flesh into something more than mortal. Weight vanishes, strength surges, and speed becomes unnatural — like a predator in Steel. The Armor can stop ballista fire, shatter shields with a Gauntlet strike, and carry its bearer across the battlefield like a charging bull. Its helm, narrow and faceless, has become a symbol of dread; to enemy soldiers it is like seeing death stride forward under banners of Gold and shadow. Only the elite of Espen’s knightly orders are permitted to wear it, and even they must train for months to withstand the strain of merging with the suit.

Crafting a single Forgeplate is an act of devotion, requiring weeks of labor and the work of dozens. Master alchemists distill volatile spirits, artificers inscribe power channels, and armor-smiths quench plate in blood-hot oil while chanting the ancestral names of the Fuerza warriors. Every suit bears a lineage — reforged from the fallen to serve the living. The Archduke’s personal Guard, known as the Sons of Ironlight, march in full Forgeplate formation, their boots shaking the terraces as they pass. They are peace embodied, but only because war follows behind them.

The Smiths of Saliana Guard their secrets with an Iron will. Their vats are sealed, their laboratories locked behind Electrum gates, and apprentices swear blood-oaths before working a single rivet. Rivals have tried to replicate Forgeplate, but none have succeeded — for it requires not only Steel and formulae, but the fierce discipline and unity that define Saliana itself. In time, foreign powers may attempt theft or sabotage. Many already have. Yet as long as the Archduke rules and the forges burn bright, the Smiths will continue refining their masterpiece, dreaming of suits even grander, heavier, and more terrible than the last.