The Royal Trust of Merovia

The Merov duchies have no king, but that is not to say they're not a kingdom.  The cultural similarities are quite strong (to the point that along the borders, dialects of Vincian and Cutanian and Naevarran and mutually intelligible), and the duchies could easily be brought under one banner, should any individual duke prove strong enough.  Of course, this is unlikely to ever happen, but there do exist various common structures, such as manorialism, that exist throughout Merovia.  And one of these is the Royal Trust of Merovia.

Technically, the Royal Trust would be called a pawn-brokerage in modern terms... it simply holds collateral in trust, and while doing so, may do with it as it may.  As such, it is also a rather sophisticated trade collective, as it offers secured loans throughout Arimdom, and then profits upon the sale of the collateral.  An ancient institution that is Tiberian in origin and dates to the earliest days of the Duchies, the Royal Trust of Merovia is perhaps the richest institution outside of the Church itself, and certainly more able to utilize its varied assets.  For while so much of the Faith's wealth is tied to the land, the Royal Trust is a rare institution that deals in trade goods and even (in the South at least) gold.

And in truth, there is nothing like it.  Although they have no extensive lands of their own, they have holdings, armies, ships, even serfs of sorts.  They exist in every court in Merovia, and their presence is felt throughout the north.  While little is known of them in Lloegyr (since the island does not possess a true market economy) they are quite powerful in Vincia, where they are sure not to create a costly rivalry with the Duke that might damage business.  Still, all who know them respect them: even the most traditional Heorot lord will eventually seek to trade for something he does not have, and when he does, he would do best if the Royal Trust had not noticed him.

Beyond the North, Revisited

I've touched on what's beyond the North before here, and I know Matt's visited Ravar in his tabletop game.  However, as I was recently outwitted by a player and may be forced to flesh out more of the world, I thought I might as well share it here, for the educated players to see.

As previously mentioned, there are established names and identities for both the Merov Duchies and the lands the Kraki have conquered.  The Merov Duchies of Cutane, Naever, and Burgen all have their own identities, and it might trouble some to note that in many ways, they're more Vincian than Vincia.  Additionally, the Hess, Tets, and Thars... all conquered by the Kraki... are somewhat similar to the Kraki (and thus the Heorots and the Guth, who are all cousins), as well as their Lorn neighbors.  To provide a little details on these places, beyond simple names...

• Cutane is the Duchy that borders the Protectorate of Timber, and is thus the most heavily influenced by the Faith (and probably the most advanced, technologically).  They're also the least centralized of the Merov Duchies, with the Duke of Cutane far weaker than his peers.
• If the Duke of Vincia rules through political manipulation, the Duke of Naevar rules through force.  His power is nearly absolute, and his court is a rigidly organized bureaucracy.  However, his power is curbed by the fact that Naevar is the smallest of the the Duchies.
• The largest Merov Duchy is Burgen, which is also the most influenced by their neighbors.  Burgen is, by Merov standards, barbaric (although this still makes them far more refined than the Heorots or Kraki) due to the influence of their Rav and Tet neighbors.  They are the largest and most populated of the Duchies.
• The Hess are a conquered people of the Kraki, and dwelt in a lowland forest close to Guthlund.  They were a very war-like people, with very little central organization, and although they fought fiercely, they were easily defeated in small numbers by Rolf over the course of two years.  
• The Tets were a people much like the Kraki, heavily influenced by their Merov neighbors, who conducted trade (and raids) along the rivers of the continent.  They were the first land to be conquered by Rolf, before he turned his eyes toward the County of Pendrose in Vincia.  After Castus' intervention, Rolf looked at his other neighbors.
• A mountain-folk, the Thars were intensely hard to subjugate, and the area was in a limited rebellion up until the day Rolf died.  Because of it's geography, the trouble Rolf had with the Thars prevented further conquests.
• Protected by narrow mountain passes and high altitude, the Lorn are an isolated and strange people, early converts to the Faith of Arim, and for some time an island in that Faith.  Dedicated to maintaining their homeland, the Lorn have perhaps the strongest cultural identity in the known world.

Having given some detail on these people, I feel a bit more comfortable teasing out the other major peoples of Arimdom... What must be known is that the greatest "nation" (an anachronistic concept used carefully) is certainly the Protectorate of the Patriarch, which is centered around Tiber.  To the West and South of the Protectorate, along the sea that defines the continent, there are a collection of cultures that all speak a dialect of Albers.  The Albersians are not a people but rather a group of people who practice a more advanced sort of feudalism, and are generally continually at war either with each other. Finally, there are the Rav, who control a very large territory but have a relatively small population density... largely as they are on the edge of civilization.  Beyond Rav is the forest primeval, where dark and strange things (perhaps even stranger than in Lloegyr) lie.

Agency and Perspective

I had a conversation with a player recently, about how fucked they are.  I actually have a lot of these conversations, because a lot of people feel like their characters are in grave and inescapable peril (and, well, they are), but this one in particular struck me... because the player didn't seem to accept it.  From that player's perspective, they have to power to save themselves.  Which is a great thing: except for the fact that they're probably wrong.

The reason they're wrong isn't because the storyteller is rail-roading them, or refusing to let their actions.  On the contrary, the storyteller is making sure their characters have agency, and determine the story.  The trick is that the actions that matter are the months of mistakes made in the past, when the character didn't realize what they were doing, and not a last ditch, quick fix effort to avoid the consequences.

Let's say you're a farmer, and also an adventurer.  In April, you go off to court to play at intrigues, and in May you go off to war.  In June, the voice of God (in the case of Lloegyr, me) mentions you should worry about your crops, and you spend a week or two in June tilling your fields.  Then you go off on a quest in July, and spend most of August with your friends in the next city over, and then in September, when I tell everyone "famine is coming" you spend another week or two in your fields.  When October hits, the crops are going to fail, because you didn't tend to them... and I'm going to show you ever single starving peasant I can to drive home your mistake.

The trick is that you don't know what you don't know... until it bites you.  Mistakes are made over time, and the fixes aren't easy or fast.  And sometimes it's too late.  And that's by design in Lloegyr, because it's the defeats that make the victories matter, and the victories that make the final tragedy of it matter.

I once said Lloegyr is about kicking down your sandcastles.  That's only partly true.  Sometimes, I see a puppy and I have to kill it.  But more often, I watch the tide slowly creep in, and keep you distracted with that really fun game of volleyball until the waves are upon it.  And then I point to the sand castle getting washed away, and focus on your attempts to save it after it's too late.  And the best part for me is that it's usually another player who's doing it to you.  All I have to do is place the emphasis.