The Imperial Duchy of Teutei

At the confluence of the mighty Ennen and Hirdin rivers lies the Imperial Duchy of Teutei, the heart of the Empire of Isornei. It is named for the City of Teutei, the empire’s unchallenged capital, and the city in turn draws its name from the Tauta, the great invaders who, alongside the Kens and the Ceta, carved their dominion into the Known Expanse during the Invasion of the Three Tribes. While their kin spread west and east, it was the Tauta who settled here, planting their banners above the Goetic Line of Ilk-Nes, and in doing so, creating a powerhouse of thaumaturgy, trade, and agriculture.

History

The legacy of the city stretches back an estimated 4,000 years, though evidence suggests even older foundations, and strata of forgotten peoples buried beneath layers of conquest. Eskal nationalists claim that their ancestors once walked these same streets before the Tauta, before even the first invaders. Early Tautan oral histories tell of King Eïd, the legendary warrior-ruler who "rode into the bones of a dead city," a cryptic testament to the ruins upon which Teutei was built. And so, from bones and ruin, it grew.

Its history is one of sieges, war and survival, each siege leaving scars upon its stones, each war layering the city with more stories of both horror and triumph. The most recent of these great conflicts was the War of the Anathema, when the city became a fortress of darkness, seized by a tyrant who sought to reshape reality through black thaumturgy. For years, her banners flew above its spires, her demons prowled its streets, and her influence seeped into every crack and shadow. But Teutei does not break; it endures as always. The righteous waged a brutal siege to reclaim their home, and when the war ended, it was Teutei’s streets that bore witness to her downfall.

It remains the seat of imperial power, tied irrevocably to the title of Emperor. By imperial law, no Emperor may reign from beyond its walls, and once crowned, the Emperor must sever himself from his past. He must relinquish all other titles and holdings to his kin. The city demands totality; there is no half-rule in Teutei, no divided loyalty, for to rule from its spires is to wield the Empire’s full might.

Yet, for all its grandeur, the city is no mere quaint relic of the past. It breathes, it expands, it consumes. Over centuries, its suburbs have been swallowed by the ever-hungry beast of urban expansion, and today, the duchy itself has become the city. Its population has swelled to 5,500,000, making it one of the largest and most overcrowded cities in the Known Expanse. The weight of industry, of ambition, of unending motion presses upon its inhabitants, and the air itself is thick with the byproducts of its own progress. The skies are choked with smoke, the waters tainted by waste, and yet, still, they come in their multitudes, seeking fortune, power, or merely subsistence.

Law Enforcement

With such numbers, chaos is inevitable. Overpopulation is a major issue alongside a lack of social mobility, resulting in an explosive tide of crime in the city’s underbelly. Smugglers, thieves, and syndicates thrive in the slums, preying upon the desperation of the masses. Imperial law enforcement fights to stem the tide, and as the years pass, their methods grow more brutal, their presence more suffocating. The Imperial Teuteian Police Force, one of the oldest statutory police forces in the Known Expanse, has become a machine of control as much as protection. They are unmistakable in their navy blue uniforms and white kepis. Their reach extends into every shadowed corner of the city.

Their detective branch, known metonymically as The Spire, is a name that strikes fear into criminals and subversives alike. Operating from the towering 71st Street Spire, they employ some of the most brilliant detectives, thaumaturges and analysts, weaving together arcane techniques with the latest in forensic science.

Even beyond the borders of the Empire, their reputation precedes them. The Spire’s operatives have begun to work closely with their Gaean counterparts, sharing knowledge of chemical analysis, genetic forensics, and criminal psychology. Where once the Empire viewed Gaea’s cold, technological methods with skepticism, now they recognize the utility of such precision. The Spire adapts, learns, and grows ever more dangerous. Criminals may have once believed they could vanish into the city's depths, but now, there is nowhere to hide.

With the expertise of Eremitan engineers and architects, and hoping to increase its influence in the heart of the Empire, the Confederation has poured vast sums into colossal infrastructural projects, expanding sewage systems, building aqueducts, and reinforcing bridges to sustain the sheer weight of its people. The most ambitious of these efforts is the city's metro, among the first of its kind in the Known Expanse. It was inspired by the subterranean networks of the Gaeans, which are said to span whole continents. Nine stations are already operational; their sleek, iron-veined tunnels snake beneath the city like arteries of steel, while twenty more are being excavated. The digging carves through ancient catacombs, disturbing the silent slumber of generations past; this has stirred immense unrest among the old aristocratic families whose ancestors rest within. Yet, the construction continues unabaed, and the dead are moved with neither ceremony nor reverence, and their descendants offered mere pittances as compensation. The march of progress does not halt for ghosts.

The city's labyrinthine streets are a testament to its status as the political heart of the Empire, earning it the moniker of the 'City of Consulates.' Nowhere else, besides the Confederal capital of Ydenia, does such a concentration of power reside, with embassies of dynasties, nations, and archduchies standing shoulder to shoulder in the diplomatic quarter of 23rd Street. Every morning, the great and ambitious walk its boulevards, engaging in a veritable ballet of negotiation, intrigue, and silent wars fought through words and handshakes. Here, in these halls of power, alliances are forged, oaths are broken, and the future of nations is written in the ink of treaties and trade agreements.

Economy

Yet Teutei is not simply a city of government. It is a titan of commerce and industry, its mighty rivers making it one of the greatest entrepôts in the Known Expanse. Merchant fleets laden with silks from Dasheng, grain from the Ardwyrians, steel from the Welkavians, and exotic goods from distant lands flow through its ports, feeding an economy that rivals even the industrial powerhouses of the Eremitans. Its factories roar with unceasing production; their forges shape the weapons, machines, and tools that fuel the Empire's unending hunger for expansion. Though bureaucracy and governance remain its lifeblood, the pulse of industry is never far behind.

The Imperial Palace

At the heart of it all, ruling from the gilded seat of the Imperial Palace in Government Square, is Emperor Inidag III of House Neiavarda. His rule, though secure, is watched carefully by both allies and rivals alike. The Assembly of Notables, the voice of the aristocracy, meets in the colossal Assembly House, a sprawling edifice of marble and concrete, a monument to the power and order of the Empire. Next to it, an veritable burrow of bureaucratic offices stretches from horizon to horizon, where functionaries and bureaucrats toil in quiet servitude, ensuring that the vast mechanisms of the state grind ever forward.

For four centuries, House Neiavarda has ruled from this city, carving its place into the very fabric of the Empire. Their rise was one of careful calculation and ruthless pragmatism. Their ancestor, Inidag I, was a compromise candidate, elevated to the throne after the Age of Ruin when the great houses, desperate to restore stability, agreed to sign the Second Covenant and created the Confederation of Free Nations. Once, they were merely stewards of the Alisanti, serving loyally in the shadows of their betters. Now, they are a great house in their own right, and House Alisanti still remembers.

The Grand Cathedral of the Stones

No structure in Teutei commands as much reverence as the Grand Cathedral of the Stones. Regarded as one of the holiest sites of the Amarian faith, it was here that the Our Lady of the Siege, a manifestation of the Ethereal Lady herself, walked barefoot on the cobblestones to guide the faithful against the Anathema, ushering in the city's liberation. The faithful murmur prayers as they press themselves against the stones, hoping for even the faintest whisper of the divine.

These stones are held today as sacred relics. Seven of them are painstakingly preserved and enshrined within the Cathedral of the Stones. Pilgrims come in waves, their numbers drawn from every corner of the Known Expanse, pressing forward through the incense-hung air to see, to touch, to kiss what was once beneath the feet of the divine. It is said that the stones possess the power to heal even the gravest of afflictions, that the sick walk away whole, that the dying return renewed. Not always. But sometimes, it works.

The sacred order charged with their protection, the Custodians of the Stones, guard them in silence. Their duty is not just physical, but metaphysical. For it is they who sometimes see her again in quiet visitation. Her form, still radiant, still barefoot, is said to appear upon the stones. There are those among the Custodians who claim they have been beckoned by her, invited to walk beside her.And when she reaches the seventh stone, she vanishes into thin air. Those who have shared her path emerge changed: the lines on their faces softened, the weight in their bones eased. Some whisper of years returned, of sicknesses undone without prayer or potion.

Even those beyond the faith have been stirred. There have been occasions when United Domains of Gaea, despite their secularism and disdain for the metaphysical, have requested permission to witness the stones. They are always turned away. The Church holds fast to one law: these stones are not for the curious, only for the faithful.

Each year, the Feast of the Siege turns all eyes once more to Teutei. Among the holiest observances of the Amarian faith, it marks the moment when Our Lady of the Siege walked bodily within the City, tore down its profane defenses, and led the faithful into salvation. The celebration spans three days, each day devoted to a stage of that sacred ordeal: the arrival at dawn and the breach of the gates, the march through the corrupted streets, and the final confrontation in the throne room where the Lady and the Anathema stood face to face. During these days, the entire city of Teutei is cloaked in prayer, song, and radiant processions.

Traffic, always notorious in a city like Teutei, grinds to a complete standstill, for all vehicles are banned outright from the road for the duration of the festivities. A whole culture of illegal cab-hailing flourishes during this time, for the wealthy are willing to pay exorbitant fees to avoid the exhausting toil of walking.

The police often struggle to catch up with the drivers and their clockwork horses, which are illegally modified to be far faster than the policemen's own clockwork horses; the cab's wheels and the horse's hooves are enchanted to be able scale up sheer vertical walls, providing yet another avenue of escape from the infernal "blueberries".

Culture

The people ofTeutei embody the Empire itself; they are industrious, stern, and disciplined. Yet there is a quiet shift beneath the surface, a slow loosening of the rigid traditions that have bound them for centuries. The city grows ever more cosmopolitan, and its streets are alive with the rhythms of cultures from across the Confederation and Known Expanse. A new generation, wealthier and more decadent than the last, turns toward pleasure and art, indulging in the luxuries afforded by their position. The Romantic Renaissance has taken root here. Theaters brim with operas and plays, and Teuteian coffeehouses, infamous for their rumoured subversive activities, buzz with the debates of poets and philosophers; parlor houses cater to an elite eager for distraction. Yet for all this decadence, the iron hand of the state remains ever watchful. The police and the Spire keep a firm grip on the streets, and while ideas flow freely, those that veer too far into reformist thought are quietly smothered.

The Glowing Canals of Teutei

For all its sights and wonders, it is the winding canals of Teutei that have in recent years become an unexpected source of wonder and fascination. At night, the waters come alive with a soft, otherworldly glow, an effect of some forgotten, benign thaumaturgy woven into the riverbed long before even the Tauta set foot upon this land. No scholar, no thaumaturge, not even the most learned of the imperial universities can explain it; it is neither wholly natural nor entirely magical, and despite years of study, its true nature remains elusive. The only thing that is certain is that some confluence of factors relating to the Goetic Line of Ilk-Nes is responsible. Yet, for all that, it has become one of the city’s most cherished sights.

The luminous waterways have transformed Teutei into a city of romance, drawing lovers from across the Empire and Known Expanse. Gondolas drift silently upon the glowing currents, light shimmering upon the faces of those who seek the river’s whispered blessings. The belief that the Ennen and Hirdin rivers are more than just bodies of water, that they are alive, that they are bound in a sacred dance of devotion — has taken deep root in the minds of the people. As these twin rivers wind and weave through the heart of the city, embracing and parting like lovers, it is said that those who traverse them in the hush of night will be blessed with a love as enduring as the waters themselves.

Many nobles, merchants, and hopeful romantics have taken to arranging their courtships along the glowing canals, believing that a vow spoken upon their surface will be unbreakable. Some, in defiance of Amarian tradition, have even exchanged rings beneath the silver light of the river. Others whisper that a child conceived beneath the watchful gaze of the glowing waves will be destined for greatness.

The tradition has grown so prevalent that during festival nights, the waterways and canals are rivers of light, thick with veritable armadas of gondolas. Poets immortalize the sight in verse, composers craft symphonies that attempt to capture the silent magic of the moment, and sculptors carve statues of entwined figures, forever frozen in the moment of their passage upon the sacred waters.

The Gondoliers' Guild

Whatever the truth behind the luminous canals, one fact remains undeniable: the gondoliers of Teutei are doing a roaring business. Once the quiet trade of river guides and ferrymen, they have transformed into one of the most lucrative ventures in the entire city. Recognizing the opportunity before them, the gondoliers banded together to form a powerful guild, monopolizing the enchanted waters and ensuring that no rival can cut into their flourishing trade. Their influence grows with each passing year, and now, they are no mere boatmen but shrewd businessmen and powerbrokers in their own right.

To keep the legend alive and to further enshrine their hold over the canals, the guild spares no expense. They commission poets to compose verses that immortalize the rivers’ supposed blessings. They hire playwrights to weave their magic into love stories performed in the grand theaters of Teutei. Advertisements fill the pages of the city's myriad newspapers, promising romance, fortune, and an unbreakable bond to those who dare to set sail upon the glowing waters. Even the sacrovirs of the Church, ever dogmatic, have been quietly enlisted to lend an air of divine approval.

By all accounts, it is working. The number of lovers flocking to Teutei grows with each passing season, and the demand for gondola rides before the radiant, liquid light shows no signs of abating. The upper echelons of society indulge in the ritual with reckless abandon, and even those of humbler means scrape together coin for the chance to partake in the river’s supposed blessings. For the nobility, it has become an unspoken requirement for courtship; for merchants, a status symbol; for visiting dignitaries, an irresistible curiosity.

It is an open secret that even Gaean diplomats take to these gondolas in the dead of night, often with lovers whom they dare not be seen with in the harsh light of day. More than once, an astute observer has spotted a foreign official wrapped in an embrace with a local paramour, though whether these companions are true lovers or carefully cultivated honeypot spies remains a question best left unasked. The gondoliers, ever discreet, feign ignorance, but they are keenly aware that they ferry not just whispered confessions and stolen kisses, but secrets of far greater consequence.

Indeed, the gondoliers of Teutei are custodians of secrets, bound by a sacred oath. Before they take up their trade, each ferryman stands before a priest in the Grand Cathedral of the Stones and swears upon the Ethereal Lady that they will never divulge what they see or hear upon the waters. It is a vow that binds not only their tongues but their very lives, for their trade depends on absolute discretion. The sacred oath is law among them, enforced with a quiet, chilling efficiency.

Every gondolier of the guild understands the consequences of betrayal. Those who break the vow, whether by carelessness or greed, vanish without a trace. There is no trial, no spectacle, no corpse left to be found, only silence, and a single empty gondola drifting aimlessly through the canals. The guild does not tolerate weakness in its ranks, nor does it extend second chances. Their trade is built upon trust, and they will go to any lengths to ensure that the river keeps its secrets.

The people of Teutei whisper of the fate of those who have transgressed. Some say the guild has its own enforcers: silent, black-clad men who move through the night, ensuring that the oath is honored. Others claim that the canals themselves exact vengeance, that the glowing waters pull traitors beneath the surface and drag them into the depths, that their bones settle among the ossifiedstrata of the forgotten cities upon which Teutei was built. Whether it is the guild or the river that takes them, one thing remains certain: no ferryman has ever lived to speak of what lies beyond betrayal.

This understanding ensures that no diplomat, noble, or clandestine lover hesitates before stepping onto a gondola, for they know that their confessions, their treacheries, and their whispered desires are as safe upon the waters as they would be in a sealed vault. The gondoliers row in silence, their faces unreadable, their hands steady upon the oars as they ferry lovers, spies, and conspirators alike.

Even the Empire’s most shadowed organizations dare not interfere. The Imperial Teuteian Police, the Spire and the Imperial Oracular Service both know that the gondoliers are beyond their reach. The guild does not play politics, nor do they sell information. The moment they do, their enterprise collapses, and so they remain resolute, unmoved by coin, threats, or promises of power. They serve only the river, and the river serves them in turn.