Power descends from above. this is a fact of nature, commonly proved by everyday events. Lightning strikes the ground from heaven, where once the gods looked down from on high and judged the affairs of mortals. So too do great kings, emperors, lords, and masters dispense law, justice or injustice to those horn of lower station. It seems to be the order of nature that the High govern the Low, even as humans rule over dogs, dog over sheep, and sheep over the grass of the field. The history of our world is the story of the doings of the mighty, but days pass in the life of ordinary folk at the same rate they do for kings. How then do people of lesser station order their lives? In this treatise I will examine the government of village, town, and guild in every free nation of Ansalon. Let the ways be compared and judged, so that wise rulers can take up good ideas and discard bad ones, and the lives of ordinary folk be improved thereby.

I begin with the eldest of our races, the elves. Back in the most ancient days, the first elves lived much as the earliest humans did, in small family bands. Unlike humans, who had to range the woods and plains for food, elves were settled from the first. Endowed by the gods with innate magical senses, elves did not have to struggle hard to live as did early humans. As a result, they had little impetus to develop their society beyond the idyllic existence they already possessed.

Within elf families, strong personalities dominated, though there was no predilection of males over females, as often happens in human or dwarven families. This is because males and females of the elf race are quite similar in size and strength. Moreover, since elves are only periodically fertile, the sexual politics of male-female relations are far less important to them. In some families, fathers might be dominant, but in others, the mother might rule. It was strictly a matter of personal ambition and natural authority.

The elves might have remained contented forest-dwellers of no great civilization had they not come into competition with other budding races, chiefly ogres and humankind. Priestly writers claim this was the will of Reorx, the god who favored innovation and invention. [The elves, on the other hand, see their evolution into a great civilization as absolutely inevitable.] It was this god who set people into competition, as a way to try their strength and wits against each other. Being neither as fierce as ogres nor as numerous as humans, early contests between the races showed up the backwardness of the elves. Shocked by the savagery of their neighbors, the elves withdrew deeper into the forest. Their population became concentrated along the Thon-Thalas River, and this led to closer cooperation between elf families, intermarriage, and the beginnings of national feeling.

In those early days, elves of a certain village would meet in a sinthal, or council, made up of all adults in the vicinity. Problems were discussed (or plain argued), solutions proposed, and plans voted upon. There was no schedule to holding a sinthal; they were convened as needed.

When ogre civilization fell into savagery (circa 6000 PC), their former human slaves ran riot, looting and killing anyone who resisted them. Elven villages in the western forest were burned, and the terrified inhabitants found their simple village councils could not meet the threat of hard-hitting human raiders.

Out of this trouble rose Silvanos Goldeneye, the great founder of the Silvanesti state. Around the year 4000 PC, he convened a special council, the Sinthal-Elish, to forge a union of elves to resist foreign invasions. One fundamental change Silvanos made in the old method of summoning a council was to exclude whole classes of people—females, for one; those younger than 100 years or older than 800, and those too poor to provide themselves with a bronze spear or sword. The 990 elves who did meet his criteria were the beginnings of the aristocratic warrior class that was to dominate the elven nation for the rest of its history.

The Sinthal-Elish was not a coronation for Silvanos. He was challenged for power at the meeting by a number of factions—the Oak Tree Alliance, the Blue Water Elves (not sea-elves yet, but the maritime ancestors of the Dargonesti and Dimernesti), the Greenwood Rangers, and the powerful shaman society called the Brown Hoods. Through the long, contentious meeting of the Sinthal-Elish, one notable rival emerged to Silvanos' claim to power. This was Balif, called the Fair. He was the champion of the Oak Tree elves, who hailed from the north, and favored by the Rangers, ancestors of the Kagonesti forest elves. For a time, as many elves favored him to lead them as favored Silvanos.

When it looked as though the budding elven nation would sunder into angry, warring factions, Balif asked the Brown Hoods to send him on a spirit journey, to discover the future fate of the elves. Several shamans refused his request, deeming it blasphemous to pry the secrets of the future from the gods, but one Brown Hood agreed. His name was Vedvedsica, and he lurks in the background of much of early elven history, part watcher, part puppet master.

Balif, given certain herbs and subjected to certain potent spells, went on spirit journey forward 4,000 years. He saw the path of greatness lay with Silvanos and his descendants, and not with him and his. When he awakened, he returned to the Sinthal-Elish and announced his support of Silvanos. Thus was born the kingdom of Silvanesti.

In gratitude and in recognition of Balif’s talents as a warrior, Silvanos named him first chief of House Protector, the elves' warrior society. Balif went on to perform many deeds of wisdom and valor before succumbing to a very strange fate indeed (a story outside the scope of this treatise, alas).

The aristocratic-monarchical pattern was established for Silvanesti, and continues to this day. Outside the city of Silvanost, however, traces of the old village council system remain. Most elven towns have a governor, often a warrior of House Protector or a senior scribe from House Recorder, appointed by the Speaker of the Stars. In some provinces, the lord of the land rules in the Speaker's name, though this happens in only the most rural areas. For day-today matters, most elves outside the cities still rely on the old village sinthal, in which all the local adults participate.

What happens, one may ask, when the orders of a royal governor and the will of a local sinthal clash? This seldom occurred until the era of the Kinslayer War, when the edicts of Speaker Sithas cause hardship and resentment in the provinces. The groundswell of support for the founding of Qualinesti came in large part from elves in the western provinces who'd felt the heavy hand of Sithas' taxation, war levies, and loyalty purges. Most independent-minded elves took the opportunity to depart the despot Sithas.

Since the erection of the magical shield around Silvanesti, little information has emerged as to the health of the elven state. Given the increasingly harsh attitude of the Silvanesti toward foreigners and change in general, it is not unreasonable to assume things will go on as they have for thousands of years. [Some rumor, possibly garbled, has reached us of a band of rebels, led by Alhana Starbreeze, who seek to penetrate the shield. Mayhap they will be successful, and we will at last hear more than rumor out of Silvanesti.] In several hundred villages, the royal governor collects taxes and dispatches them to the capital treasury, while in a humbler house not far away, concerned elders and matrons meet to decide when to plant, when to hunt, when to hold the village fair, and what to do with their wild sons, who ride fast horses late at night, drink too much, and disturb the rest of the neighbors.

It might be imagined given their history as rebels, the Qualinesti would have a freer, less aristocratic form of local government, but such is not the case. Building a nation from scratch as they did, the Qualinesti chose to build a highly centralized system based on logic and military necessity.

Each province in Qualinesti has a governor, appointed by the Speaker of the Sun upon recommendation of his high council of elders. True to the polyglot nature of the country, governors are not always elves, but elves do predominate. The governors rule the province in the Speaker's name and enact laws based on the written code of Qualinost. Leading subjects of the province have the right to petition the governor about specific matters, but the governor is ultimately responsible to the Speaker and not to the residents of the province. Despite their authoritarian style, provincial governors of Qualinesti have been generally remarkable for their generosity, fairness, and forbearance.

One Qualinesti governor who came to a bad end was Hidduna Makyarthar, appointed during the reign of Speaker Silveran. Hidduna was named governor of Halfmoon province, land now submerged under the New Sea. Aside from a few Qualinesti retainers and a smattering of human tradesman, the vast majority of Hidduna's subjects were Kagonesti elves.

The Kagonesti, who lived in tribal bands much like the human Qué-Shu and other plainsfolk, resented having royal authority imposed on them. They regarded any decision made without consulting them as tyranny, and believed it was their moral duty to resist it. Even modest matters, such as deciding what days would be market days and regulating the hunting of game, caused fierce resentment among the Kagonesti. Resistance to the law led Hidduna to use troops against the recalcitrant forest elves. Forty-four days after assuming the mantle of office, Hidduna ordered the trial and execution of three Kagonesti hunters as bandits. Their crime consisted of killing one more deer in a single hunting trip than royal regulations allowed.

Following the trial, scores of Kagonesti came to Hidduna's capital, the village of Demilund. The day the three hunters were to be hanged, forest elves stormed the jail, freed their comrades, and put the building to the torch. Hidduna's guard, consisting of forty lancers, sixty-two men at arms, and a corps of archers, could not contain the hundreds of Kagonesti. The guard holed up in Demilund's town hall, all the while sending frantic messages to Qualinost for relief.

Hidduna himself, a spare, haughty elf of common lineage, fell into Kagonesti hands when they seized his home the next day. Stripped naked, he was pelted with mud and dung until he stumbled out of town, alone.

That wasn't the end of the conflict. Through skillful lies and astute political maneuvering, Hidduna persuaded the commander of the Qualinesti army, Lady Verhanna, to lend him a squadron of cavalry to hunt down the "criminals" who deposed and humiliated him. (He made the Kagonesti out to be bandits rather than disgruntled subjects with legitimate grievances.) The cavalry surrounded several Kagonesti haunts, capturing their ringleaders. On their way out of the forest, the soldiers were set upon by a large force of enraged Kagonesti, led by the redoubtable former Wildrunner Khamkeli. Using nets and stones, the Kagonesti disabled large numbers of cavalry without killing them. When Hidduna was captured a second time, he was hog-tied and carried off by the Kagonesti, never to be seen alive again.

The truth came out about Hidduna's heavy-handed rule, and the Speaker Silveran set things to right by appointing Khamkeli himself as governor of Halfmoon province.

On the village level, Qualinesti government is more democratic. Most settlements have a mayor, or headman, to oversee public projects, settle disputes, and see to the collection of taxes. Males and females are eligible for the job, and nonelves can serve if elected. The right to vote for headman belongs to every taxpaying resident of the village. Upon paying yearly taxes, a Qualinesti subject is given a clay or wooden token with the royal arms on it. The day of an election, this token is also a ballot. Baskets are set up in the village square, and subjects drop their token in the basket bearing the name of the candidate they favor. [Such was the case before the Knights of Neraka's occupation of Qualinesti. Under the military rule of the Knights, the authority of elven councils has been much restricted, though they have been permitted in most instances to continue their existence.]

In Silvanesti, judges and officers of the law were temporary posts, usually filled by appointed priests or soldiers. The Qualinesti created a full-time system of judges and constables. Judges were chosen by the governor of the province from the ranks of righteous clerics. On occasion a secular judge, a scribe for example, might be chosen instead, but this was not usual. Constables were volunteers. Persons wanting the job had to apply to the local headman, and were subject to confirmation by the governor. Most constables were retired veteran soldiers. In Kagonesti country, experienced rangers were actively recruited to police the wildwood.

The most famous Kagonesti constable is an elf of our own time, Robien the Tireless. Robien tracked down and captured the murderous bandit Tycon, who was wanted in Ergoth for killing twenty-seven people. It took him fifty-nine days, but he trapped Tycon on a cliff top in the Kharolis Mountains. Rather than face justice, Tycon jumped to his death. Even then Robien didn't give up. He carried the broken body of the murderer back to Ergoth to prove he had done his job.

Many people in Silvanost and human lands predicted the Qualinesti experiment would not work, that people of different races could not live in harmony. Time has shown these prejudices to be false. Now Qualinesti groans under the heel of the Dark Knights, but the people endure, and will endure, so long as they preserve the institutions and values that made them who they are.

The Kagonesti, or forest-dwelling elves, owe no allegiance to the Speaker of the Stars in Silvanost. For centuries they paid the Speaker homage, but never acknowledged him as their overlord. With the sundering of the elven nation, many Kagonesti embraced the new state of Qualinesti, but their infatuation with the new nation didn't last long. Gradually they fell back into their timeless ways, hunting the trackless forests. They profess to despise all authority, all government, yet they run their affairs in a very hierarchical way. Family groups combine into clans of cousins and other near relations. These clans associate into tribes or bands, but only in the loosest sense. Power resides in the hands of the clan elders, who interpret age-old traditions and apply them to modern problems. Age, wisdom, and ancestry determined who can or cannot be an elder.

Even with this structure, no Kagonesti feels bound to submit to the judgment of anyone else. If accused of wrongdoing and found guilty by his elders, a forest elf can simply move to another clan territory and resume his life. If his crime is serious enough, avengers may track him down and mete out rough justice. The Kagonesti assign no shame to voluntary exile. As their saying goes, "one part of the woods is as good as another."

Because of their isolation, not much is known about the politics of the Dargonesti or Dimernesti. Virtually all we know about the deep sea elves comes from the account of Qualinesti princess Vixa Ambrodel, who was captured and enslaved by the Dargonesti but ultimately escaped. The sea elves apparently have a very militaristic society, organized along army lines, with a speaker-monarch at the top. Unlike their dry land counterparts, Dargonesti rulers are most often female, a curious fact in a social order that puts males ahead of females.

Undersea settlements are organized on military lines, with a commanding officer, subordinates, and rank and file inhabitants. Considering the harsh, hostile environment of the deep ocean, this is not a surprising arrangement. Leaders tend to work their way up through the ranks rather than ascending by appointment; success in battle and fighting skill are more important than connections.

The shoal water elves resemble the Kagonesti in their love of independence. They also live in family type clans, ruled by councils rather like the old pre-Silvanos sinthal. Like the Kagonesti, if life deals a Dimernesti an unwelcome blow, he or she can swim away and start anew elsewhere. The shallow waters allow for this freedom, something the dangerous depths where the Dargonesti dwell cannot.

Lying on the northern border of Qualinesti is Abanasinia, a land where people of many races have settled. The chief inhabitants currently are humans, dwarves, centaurs, and goblins. Many elves fleeing Qualinesti ahead of the Dark Knights have settled there of late. Protected by forbidding borders of swamp and mountain, Abanasinia has escaped the worst attention of dragons and Dark Knights alike.

Abanasinia is a confederation of city-states and tribes of the plainsfolk. The cities of Long Ridge, Zaradene, Ankatavaka, Solace, New Ports, Haven, and Crossing have differing forms of government, but cooperate for the common good of the country.

The port cities are devoted to trade, and all are ruled by merchant-princes. Zaradene's rule is shared among eight princely houses, all of whom owe their wealth to sea trade. One prince is elected by the other seven to be Seal-bearer of Zaradene for a period of three years. During that term the Seal-bearer acts as head of state, but his (or her) power is not absolute. The other seven princes act as a privy council to the Seal-bearer, and power is divided among them so that no one prince can seized sole possession of the throne. Certain pairs or trios of princes have the authority to name judges, set taxes, and appoint commanders of the army and navy. The only significant outside opposition to the merchant princes are the priests, who once held great sway over the common people. Since the Summer of Chaos, clerics have lost their standing. Many temples were looted, and the empty buildings closed by the princely council.

Money talks in Zaradene. There are no elections, but successful merchants can buy influence with the princes. This is done quite openly, and is not considered corrupt.

Crossing, another port, is also ruled by the merchant class, but on a broader scale. Every tradesman in Crossing, no matter how grand or how base, is considered a member of the Scales Society, whose symbol is (naturally) a money changer's balance. Society members tithe one twelfth of their yearly income to the city, and from that Crossing pays its city guard, coast guard, and bureaucrats. Most of the city services run on their own, but the annual Crying of the Budget is a heated, contentious process. The Scales Society meets in a great hall and debates the allocation of funds for the coming year. Factions exist within the Society—the Cloth Hat group, wealthy merchants who no longer dirty their own hands doing business, and the Black Nails faction, made up of those tradesmen who toil for their own benefit. As you might expect, the Black Nails are more numerous, but the Cloth Hat richer, so their struggles never end. Nonmerchants, no matter how highborn or wealthy, cannot participate in Crossing's government.

New Ports was founded by a fleet ship captains after the second Cataclysm. Not surprisingly, the town is run like a merchant ship, with each trading house having its own "captain" and "crew." The houses deal with each other with the same etiquette as ships, bartering for goods or services they need. While this works well enough on the small scale, it does limit New Ports' ability to interact with other towns. There's no central authority, no mayor or city council to speak for New Ports. Attempts have been made to found a Captains' League, in which every ship master and house captain would have a say, but as of this date, the concept remains merely an idea.

Ankatavaka is ruled by a college of former priests. This harsh oligarchy consists of fourteen senior and thirty-eight lesser ex-clerics who still maintain sacerdotal titles and costume. For decades, passing ships put in to Ankatavaka for supplies and spiritual protection. The priests and priestesses did a brisk trade in charms against storms, pirates, and sea monsters.

Common folk abandoned the temples when the Summer of Chaos ended and the gods departed the world. In Ankatavaka, the priests converted their temple treasuries into worldly power. They hired mercenaries and seized the town from the civil government. Now, bolstered by soldiers of fortune, the clerics maintain a pose of spiritual authority for all they do. How long they can remain in power is the question. Few ships call at Ankatavaka for magical purposes anymore. Mercenaries fight for pay, and when the money runs out, they will depart, or else take the town for themselves.

The inland towns of Abanasinia have distinct populations, traditions, and strengths, but their method of government is quite the same. Solace, Long Ridge, and Haven all have mayors, elected headmen. In Solace, anyone who lives within the shade of the great trees may vote when an election is held. The only requirement for mayor in Solace is age; humans must be at least 40 years old to serve, dwarves 80, elves 200. This is to ensure wise, experienced leadership.

Long Ridge's mayor is chosen at a harvest festival. Candidates have to stand before a bonfire on the last night of Harvest Home and declaim their qualifications for the job. After that, all the candidates compete in various physical and mental tests, the most famous of which is "Shifting the Log." A large branchless tree trunk is sunk into the ground in a clearing. The candidates have thirty minutes each to try to move the log. They can only use tools they can carry, and they are allowed no help from other people or animals. One legend tells of candidate Rufus Wrinklecap (not the Rufus Wrinklecap), a kender who decided to try to become mayor. While his burly human rivals tried felling the tree with axes or digging under it with shovels, he watched idly with just a hand auger on his lap. None of the candidates could budge the massive trunk. When at last the kender's turn came, he strolled to the tree, climbed it, bored a hole in the top two inches wide and four inches deep, and planted an oak seedling in the crevice.

Rufus was declared the winner, even though he seemingly hadn't disturbed the tree at all. It was pointed out that in time, the oak seedling would split the old trunk asunder—thus his action moved the trunk, albeit very slowly.

Alas for history, Rufus was not a good mayor. He slept through council meetings, hated collecting taxes, and spent the town treasury on crystal wind-chimes for every home in Long Ridge. [This is not necessarily bad. It could be argued that on the whole it is better to be a mayor who does too little than one who does too much.]

Haven, as it name implies, is a peaceful place. Shielded by fortune and nature from much of the evil in the world, Haven is ruled by the descendants of its founders. Fiercely conservative, Havenites grant privileges according to the blood relationship a resident has to the founders of the town. Elaborate genealogical charts are drawn up, showing how the current resident is descended from this founder or that. Votes are apportioned accordingly, which accounts for bizarre situations such as one person having nineteen thirty-seconds of one vote, and another one and one-twelfth vote. Ballot counting takes days and a team of scribes with counting beads to process it. For all this complication, Haven is no better run than Solace or Long Ridge. A mayor is a mayor, whether chosen by casual voters in Solace or the athletic prowess of a young blood in Long Ridge. Their duties are much the same each place, and all mayors commonly serve for two years. Proud townsmen in Haven, Solace, and Long Ridge would defend their own system, but in the end, they all get the government they desire and deserve.

North and west of Abanasinia lie the two halves of Ergoth, once a solid land before the First Cataclysm. The terrible warlord Ackal Ergot united the human city-states around 2600 PC and founded the mighty Ergoth Empire, a savagely splendid tyranny that once dominated the western half of Ansalon. For eight hundred years the emperors of Ergoth ruled, sometimes well, sometimes ill, from their capital of Daltigoth. The government of the old empire was based on naked power, though ostensibly there were rules of succession. Emperors usually named their eldest son as their successors, or in some cases, younger brothers. In practice, barely half the designated successors ever gained the throne. The rest were deposed by ambitious generals, assassinated by their own families, or bewitched into uselessness by the legion of wizards that clustered around the seat of imperial power.

Provincial life in Ergoth was hardly better—it was little more than heavy-handed despotism, in which favored cronies of the emperor were rewarded with districts they could rule as they saw fit, so long as taxes were delivered to the Imperial Treasury. The history of provincial rule in Ergoth is one of shameless exploitation of the common folk, who in desperation often resorted to banditry and rebellion just to stay alive.

There were points of fairness and justice in the empire. The city of Caergoth, now on the Ansalon mainland, was a haven of industry and culture, far outshining the vulgar splendor of the capital city. The north of Ergoth, along the border of the kender state of Hylo, was blessed with a favorable climate and a dynasty of generous governors, who ruled with temperance and good humor for several centuries. It was the fall of this beneficent administration that first incited the great Vinas Solamnus to raise his hand against his liege lord, the emperor. [Among the manuscripts acquired by the library since Astinus's disappearance is a chronicle of Vinas Solamnus's rise to power.] The land known now as Solamnia was once contiguous with Northern Ergoth, and the plight of oppressed farmers and ranchers was plain to Solamnus. His grievances with the empire increased, until in 1801 PC, he led a march on Daltigoth to force the emperor to surrender his northeastern provinces to Solamnus's control.

The reduced state of Ergoth continued on as it had before, but the forms of imperial glory became increasingly false and ceremonial. As the power of the throne waned, the power of the provinces increased. Governors became hereditary lords of their domains, and paid less and less heed to orders from the capital. Industry and agriculture expanded, and the period from 1700 PC down to the time of the Cataclysm were known as "the Fortunate Years" for the common folk of Ergoth. They still lived under arbitrary rule. They had few rights but those granted to them by their overlords. It was the enlightened, open-handed rule of individual provincial governors that enabled the people of Ergoth to prosper.

After the land was broken by the First Cataclysm, things changed. The warrior class, so long the undisputed masters of Ergoth, found their numbers severely reduced by disaster and disease. The more numerous and resilient peasantry were able to assert themselves by withholding their labor from lords they did not like, and in some cases emigrating to escape a cantankerous governor. Northern Ergoth was depopulated for just such reasons, large numbers of people moving to Solamnia in the first two centuries PC. In their place came kender from Hylo and goblins, neither of which were as valuable as subjects to the emperor. Being neither reliable nor hard-working, the new residents of northern Ergoth assisted in the general decline of the empire's fortunes. The ogre occupation of Southern Ergoth was the last straw. The imperial court moved north to a new capital, Gwynned, and once the ogres were evicted from the south, a new and greater threat appeared in the form of the white dragon Gellidus.

Today Ergoth is divided politically as well as geographically. The north, with Solamnic garrisons at Gwynned, Lusid, and Manic, is free of dragons and Dark Knights. Local town councils on the Solamnic pattern have sprung up, replacing the corrupt old imperial bureaucracy. Townsfolk and peasantry are relatively safe and comfortable, and in return, they look to Solamnia as their masters, not the court in Gwynned.

Southern Ergoth languishes to this day: an inefficient, graft-riddled imperial system of appointed officials; a puppet court at Daltigoth that wastes money on the pretense of being a true imperial capital; and the shadow of the dragon Gellidus, whose baleful influence has turn the once-temperate isle into a frosty wasteland. The people of Southern Ergoth have no rights and live under the constant threat of death and oppression.

Solamnia assumed the mantle of leadership from the faltering Ergothian Empire. For twenty centuries Solamnia stood for justice, tolerance, and courage, and despite lapses in its national fortunes, still retains those virtues today. Founded by the wise Vinas Solamnus, and protected by the knightly order he founded, Solamnia avoided the error of Ergoth and became a nation ruled by law, not by naked force.

Early in his reign as uncrowned king, Vinas Solamnus had a code of laws drawn up, based on the honorable tenets of the knights' Oath and Measure. One of the first laws in the code established the right of free people to choose their own mayors and headmen. Qualifications varied from district to district, but the usual mayor of a Solamnic town was an older man, possibly a retired Knight or soldier. Though not specifically forbidden by the Solamnic Code, women rarely became mayors. This was probably due to the influence of the Knights' own order, from which women were excluded.

As discussed in the section on Qualinesti, the franchise in Solamnia was extended to every subject who paid taxes. Upon paying their taxes, Solamnic subjects were issued a certificate on parchment (earlier ones were stamped on clay disks), which they turned in as their ballot when an election was held.

Today judicial and police tasks are handled entirely by the Knights. Any Knight in good standing may convene a court and judge cases. Any Knight in good standing can act as a constable and arrest malefactors where found. Lesser members of the order—squires, men at arms—can act as police, but they have no judicial authority.

Where Solamnia has extended its rule, so too has gone its political system. The isle of Gunthar is thus ruled, and the northern island of Ergoth has almost entirely gone over to the Solamnic system.

Factions tend to develop in cities with a dense population, so it is surprising to learn that factions exist in Solamnic politics. Smaller groups come and go, but three main factions have remained important since the time of the First Cataclysm. The Rose Party is the faction of the Order itself. It seeks to align every aspect of domestic life to the ideals of the Solamnic Knights. In a way, the Rose Party is a civilian limb of the Order, joined by those who could not enter knighthood themselves. The Rose Party is widespread and well respected by the common people.

Frequent opponents of the Rose Party are the Sunrisers, a group that sprang up in the turmoil that followed the First Cataclysm. The Sunrisers believe the Knights (and therefore the Rose Party) are backward, conservative, and an impediment to progress. The Sunrisers unfairly blame the Knights for the havoc of the first upheaval. [This view was, in fact, widespread before the War of the Lance. Sturm Brightblade's sacrifice upon the High Clerist's Tower in 352 AC did more than any single incident to reverse this prejudice. Since then, this view has found adherents among some—though, by no means, all—members of the Legion of Steel.] They believe in progress—as they say, "Look to the sunrise, not the sunset"—and think the Knights are the biggest problem Solamnia faces.

When the Knight of Takhisis first appeared as a force to be reckoned with, they received enthusiastic support from the Sunrisers. Later the Sunrisers realized the Dark Knights were not the force of progress they took them for. Still, it is a common charge today for people to label the Sunrisers as dupes of the Dark Knights.

The third prominent faction in Solamnic politics is also the newest. The Stars by Day Society began as a secret cabal of religious fanatics who plotted to take over Solamnia (and the rest of the world) as part of their plan to bring the gods back to Krynn. The Stars by Day Society even had an armed force, the Summoners, who sacked several towns in the lands north and east of Solamnia proper. The Summoners came to grief when they tried to take on the blue dragon Khellendros, who destroyed them to a man in the Battle of Midnight (6 SC). The Stars by Day Society still exists, though they now claim to eschew violence. Their influence is perhaps greater in Nightlund and Throt, but nowhere are they strong enough to threaten the established order.

Nightlund, the dark land, has no law but the sword, no power but Chaos, and a population ridden with legions of the Undead. What few normal folk who remain within the borders of Nightlund band together for protection. Matters of trade and liberty take second place to safety. The shipbuilding center of Kalaman still exists, as do the city's traditional guilds. The old league of guildmasters that once ran the city has given way to a city guard, chiefly manned by ex-pirates and other soldiers of fortune. The commander of the City Guard has nearly absolute control over Kalaman, though the day to day running of things is left to the guilds.

The kingdom of Nordmaar suffered badly during the Summer of Chaos. Whole villages perished during the fighting, and no one knows what became of them. In former times, the king of Nordmaar ruled with the help of the Hundred Elder Thanes, warriors of long service in the army. This sounds militaristic, but in fact Nordmaar was a prosperous and free country. The yeomanry have considerable rights under the law, and any free subject can serve in wartime and acquire the status of thane to the king. Nordmaar produced powerful women warriors, and at least one notable warrior queen, Kithri, called the Long-limbed. Kithri fought the Knights of Solamnia to a standstill in the War of the Sky (202 AC), so-called because most of the fighting took place in the high Khalkist Mountains. The war ended amicably, with Kithri pledging friendship to the knights. Kithri's treacherous nephew, Orbald IV, tried to dissolve the thane council and rule autocratically, but he was brought to bay by force of arms at North Keep. He signed the Warrant of Nordmaar in 229 AC, which forever granted the free people of the realm the right to resist tyranny of the crown. Even in its weakened state today, Nordmaar people are proud of their independence and their fierce tradition of self-determination.

Neraka, once the personal fief of the Dark Queen, is now home and haven to the Knights who bear her name. The Order rules Neraka in military fashion, with the governor-general of the Knights being the supreme law of the land. [Gen. Mirielle Abrena led the Dark Knights from the time of the Chaos War until her assassination earlier this year. Since then the Order has been controlled by Sir Morhain Targonne, though it is rumored that his position has become less stable than it was formerly.] The country is administered at the common level by hirelings of the order, former men-at-arms or local collaborators who take the Order's coin in return for keeping the common folk quiet. Every town and village pays tribute to their overlords in specie or in goods. In return, the Knights keep order and protect the local inhabitants from outside harm.

Though tyrannical, the Dark Knights do impose a certain kind of grim justice on the land. Malefactors are dealt with severely, and all members of the Order have the right to impose high and low justice (this makes them police, prosecutor, judge, and jury, all in one).

The internal politics of the Dark Knights are still hidden from view, but the outlines are easy to imagine. Efficiency and ruthlessness with the Order's enemies is one road to success for an ambitious member, but unlike the brutal tyrannies of the past (such as the Ergoth Empire), the Knights expect honor and duty to remain guideposts to a Knight's behavior. A Dark Knight may be ruthless, but not treacherous; harsh, but not cruel; patriotic, but not acquisitive.

The most dangerous aspect of the Knights' policies is the their willingness to work with the great dragons. As the beasts have lost control of many of the draconian slaves, having the Knights as their allies means the overlords can keep large areas under their control. The Knights are, in effect, mercenaries for the dragons, keeping order and extorting tribute as the monsters demand. It is hard to reconcile this work with the Dark Knights' claims of honor.

The sorcerous city of Sanction was almost destroyed during the Chaos War by three volcanoes surrounding it, known as the Lords of Doom. The destruction was stopped by the magician Hogan Bight, who not only turned aside waves of lava, but has also led the successful defense of Sanction against black dragons, ogres (from Blöde), and the Dark Nights of Neraka. The city that was once the byword of evil and violence has become a beacon of freedom in a dark region of Ansalon.

In the bad old days, Sanction was ruled by a syndicate of sorcerers, pirates, and slavers. The city itself was rich and handsomely appointed, but the luxury was paid for by the profits of indescribable wickedness. The city suffered considerable damage during the war and subsequent eruptions, but the current reign of Hogan Bight has led to a restoration of Sanction's former grace. Styled lord governor, Bight rules autocratically, but with considerable skill and fairness—so far. Arbitrary power is always difficult for one person to manage without lapsing into tyranny.

Sanction is constantly besieged by hostile forces, chief among them the Dark Knights. The city trades vigorously with other free ports in the New Sea and maintains relations with the Knights of Solamnia. The lord governor has made it plain he considers the chief threat to Sanction the red dragon Malystryx, and concentrates his prodigious magical talents against her.

Sanction has a City Guard that is both army and police force. The Sea Guard is active in suppressing piracy in the eastern end of the New Sea. Officials and bureaucrats keep the city-state running smoothly, but everyone owes his or her life and position to the lord governor, whose power is therefore absolute.

In the center of the New Sea lies the island of Schallsea. Best know for the wondrous Citadel of Light, the island has grown steadily in population and importance since it was formed after the First Cataclysm. Schallsea city, on the west side of the island, is a modern, prosperous town of humans, Qualinesti elves, and dwarves.

The civil administration of Schallsea lies in the hands of the hereditary lord of Schall. The current dynasty, the family Anithas, is descended from human and elf ancestors, though the human quotient is much higher. The current lord (or lady, in this case) of Schall is a young woman, Hyreny n. The court at Schallsea city is run by a high chamberlain, appointed by the lady, and a cabinet of leading townsfolk, nominated by the chamberlain and approved by the lady. Since Schallsea is an island, most of the cabinet members are prominent merchants and sea captains. The island's dwarves represent mining interests on the east coast of the island.

That said, the real rule of Schallsea falls to the great prophetess Goldmoon and her court at the Citadel of Light. A plainswoman, Goldmoon's mystical powers have attracted pilgrims and enlightened seekers from around the world. Supporting the pilgrims, housing them, and feeding them is a major part of life on Schallsea. In effect, Goldmoon is the true ruler of Schallsea, as everyone there looks to her for guidance, if not actual commands. Lady Hyreny is a devoted follower of Goldmoon's. There are factions in the city who are not so impressed with the prophetess's powers, but they are few and not influential.

A garrison of Solamnic Knights was placed on Schallsea at Lady Hyreny's request, to help, safeguard the island against the Dark Knights' ogre raiders from Blöde. The Sea Guard is a small but highly potent force of galleys, who've kept the western end of the New Sea free of pirates for many years.

The ogre realm of Blöde sits astride the Khalkist Mountains, stretched out like a grasping hand, reaching for the verdant lands of the Silvanesti. For all their fierce prowess as warriors, the ogres have suffered reverses at the hands of the black dragon Onysablet. Pushed out of the lowlands (which have become swamps under the dragon's malign influence), the ogres rule over a mixed kingdom of humans, giants, dwarves, and a draconian or two. Those not of the ogres' race have little say-so over the affairs of Blöde.

The Blöden are ruled by their chief, currently Donnag by name. The main requirements of the chieftainship are size, muscle power, and a black sense of survival, no matter what the cost. Succession is a bloody affair, wherein challengers fight each other to the death for the right to rule Blöde.

As chief, the ogre king is an absolute monarch. His word is law, and his judgment final. It is not uncommon for an aging ogre chieftain to acquire a band of advisors—usually warrior cronies and drinking companions from his youth—to counsel him when his physical powers grow weaker with age. Membership in the chiefs band is not sought after, however, as the next chief often begins his reign by slaughtering the old chiefs allies and friends.

The Blöden live in the ruined remains of their once fine capital, Blöten. What art they once knew has long been forgotten. Ogres of our time are rough and ready tradesmen in herd animals, minerals, leather, and so on, but they lack guilds to regulate production or prices.

Female ogres are not often chiefs, but they work and fight alongside their lumpish counterparts in fair equality.

Law and justice in Blöde can be summed up in the phrase "Might makes right." Disputes are commonly settled by duels, thieves are routinely killed if caught, and there is no redress for the grievances of the poor or weak.

Blöde's closest allies are their fellow ogres of Kern. Retaining some of the lost splendor of their past, the king of Kern styles himself grand khan. There is little else splendid about the role other than the title. The grand khan is another pitiless despot who rules only so long as his axe is sharp and his enemies die faster than his friends. More so than perhaps in any other country, Kern is ruled by an individual, as no grand khan trusts his lieutenants enough to grant them fiefs within his own country.

The burden of running even a barbarous country down to the smallest detail wears out many an ambitious warlord. There was period of almost thirty years in which the throne of the grand khan was vacant because no one wanted to rule. The impasse was broken by the famous Duel of Ten Days in which two ogre champions, Ungrah and Tono, fought for ten consecutive days. The irony was, the loser had to become Grand Khan, not the winner. Tono eventually killed himself, laughing as he fell on his own sword. Ungrah became Khan, and had an exceptionally long reign, fifty-nine years. In the latter part of his reign he could be heard frequently cursing the memory of Tono, and executing any male ogre within his realm guilty of the "crime" of being named Tono.

The pine wastes of Kern offer little in the way of livelihood, so the chief trade of Kern is brigandage. More honest ogres hire themselves out as mercenaries. The Kernites do breed excellent hunting dogs, which they sell for high prices to wealthy Dark Knights.

Of late, minotaurs have been crossing the formerly impassable Blood Sea to explore Kern. The physical equal of ogres, minotaurs are much more advanced and capable. The time may come when the minotaurs push the Kernite ogres back to the borders of their brethren, the ogres of Blöde.

The Blood Sea Isles consist of four major islands: Karthay, Mithas, Kothas, and Saifhum. The farthest island, Karthay, has no regular inhabitants and hence no government. Seafarers from Balifor and Nordmaar have landed on the island and report it is covered with ruins of ancient origin. It is widely believed to be haunted, and cursed as well.

Southwest of Karthay lies Saifhum, ruled by the grand mariner. As his title implies, the grand mariner is master of a society of human seafarers, whose chief activities are fishing, trade, and piracy, in that order. The office of grand mariner is purchased. When the previous chief dies or announces his intention to retire (they sometimes do), an auction is held. Pirate captains and merchants bid huge sums for the right to become the next grand mariner. The winner has one year to pay up, or be executed. Many are the hopeful pirates who have pledged large sums they haven't stolen yet only to find themselves short when their year was up. They are shortened by a head and the auction held again.

Lesser posts in the government of Saifhum are allotted on a patronage basis. As a result, the island is administered like a business. This sounds hard for common folk, but in fact they do rather well for themselves. Labor is limited on an island, and skilled labor is worth a premium. Guilds made up entirely of working folk exist on Saifhum, and they wield considerable power. The support of, say, the shipwrights' guild can bring a lot of money to a grand mariner candidate, and make him or her beholden to the shipwrights ever after.

The climate of the island (like the others) is balmy and humid. Work is done mainly in the mornings and evenings, and at a slow pace even then. The Saifhumi are sharp traders, skillful sailors, and swift pirates, but at home they are easygoing folk. Political struggles may be settled with a dagger thrust or cup of poison, but seldom involve blood in the streets.

The most famous pirate hailing from Saifhum was Artavash the Red. In the fourth century AC, Artavash contended for the throne of Saifhum and lost to Pertinex "Moneybags," who outbid her by an insulting one silver piece. Outraged, Artavash sent her squadron of sixty ships against the northern port city of Pearl. Repelled by sorcerers in Pertinex's service, she sailed away, striking at port cities along the north coast of Ansalon. She sacked Jotan in Nordmaar but failed to capture the great city of Palanthas. Continuing south by west, Artavash eventually took the island of Kernaf and ruled it as an eccentric pirate queen for many years.

Artavash died during the War of the Lance. A seaborne force of draconians attached to the Red Dragonarmy tried to take Kernaf as a base for outflanking Ergoth and Qualinesti. Though nearly sixty, Artavash donned her armor and led the Kernafi pirates to sea against the draconian squadron. The Kernafi fleet was wiped out, and the pirate queen went down, lashed to the wheel of her flaming flagship, Sea Raven. Her sacrifice was not a vain one. The draconians lost eighty percent of their ships, so they turned back from Kernaf and did not menace it again.

The island of Kothas is home to the seagoing minotaur race, which shares the island—reluctantly—with a colony of human pirates. The master of Kothas currently is Boruz IV, king of all the minotaurs. It should be noted that the minotaurs of Mithas island do not recognize Boruz's claim to be their ruler.

The kingship of Kothas is hereditary, passing through the female line. Like the king of Nordmaar, the king of Kothas rules with the aid of a band of warrior thanes who govern in his name, administer justice, collect taxes, etc. By law, all property on Kothas belongs to the king, all wealth, and all the people are his "children." This leads to some very stylized titles among the minotaurs, such as "King's Warrior Cousin, Twice Removed, of the Mother's Line." Anyone so marked "of the mother's line" is favored indeed, as succession and power passes through the female line. [That fact makes this society unique on Krynn.]

The minotaurs are reticent about their politics and do not like to discuss them with outsiders. Factions on Kothas are therefore unknown beyond the island.

Mithas is a fiery, inhospitable island. The minotaurs have their capital at Lacynos, on the northwest shore. The island was once covered with a dense forest of hardwoods, but over the centuries the Mithasians cut them all down for shipbuilding.

The island is ruled by an oligarchy of ten noble families, all descended from outcasts from Kothas. The ten lords divided all endeavors by ten, apportioning a few to each family. Thus the family Praz rules over rope making, grains, bronze and copper work, brick making, and so forth. Other commodities and trades are under the auspices of other nobles. The facets of life were divided in such a way as to insure cooperation. For example, the Praz make brick but not mortar, so they must deal with the mortar makers' lord, just as the carpenters need Praz rope to outfit a new ship. The oligarchy works well, and keeps the minotaurs close-knit in the face of human pirates from Saifhum and their own minotaur competitors on Kothas.

Duntollik is a relatively young nation, formed by human plainsfolk of Duntol and the centaurs of Willik for their mutual protection against the incursions of dragons. The two races cooperate but seldom coexist. The plainsmen follow their traditional tribal ways, which are too dissimilar from the centaurs' way of life. In fact, their methods of choosing their chiefs is almost identical, though developed independently of one another.

When a chief grows elderly or sick, or is badly injured, he calls the males of his tribe together in a great conclave. Candidates for the new chieftainship are named by approbation, and they compete in feats of strength, endurance, and wit. The contests can go on for days, even weeks if the field is large and the contenders well matched. The winner is usually so obviously superior, no dispute breaks out.

Thereafter the chief rules in consultation with the tribal elders and special subsidiary chiefs—a war chief, a hunting chief, and so forth. [From the few reports brought back out of Darken Wood, the centaurs in that mysterious place are ruled by a council of elders known as the Circle. The Circle is presided over by the high chief, but the dominant leadership belongs to that half-mythic figure, the Forestmaster.] These are usually young males of the tribe who have distinguished themselves in their field.

Females among the centaurs are not without power. Spiritual and clerical matters are in their hands, and in matters of peace or war, they have equal say with the males. Females have been known to fill out the ranks of a war band as well.

Centaurs are exceptionally tough, able scouts, and are highly sought after recruits by other armies. They live in some of the least hospitable terrain in Ansalon, deserts of sand and ice. Centaurs complain little, strive hard, and pride themselves on their self-sufficiency. Government is not something they give much thought to; indeed, they see tribal organization mainly as a way to wage war, trade profitably, and regulate mating practices.

The Estwilde is a land without law or sovereign government. Often crossed by hostile armies, it tempts conquerors as a warm, fertile province, but the inhabitants are so blackhearted and stubborn, no one has ever managed to control the region and make it yield any bounty.

The population is a wild mix of goblins, human, dwarves, centaurs, and giants. Such disparate people are not likely to get along, and they don't. Living in isolated clans, tribes, and warbands, Estwilders war with each other as much as they fight outsiders.

The dwarves of Estwilde pay allegiance to the head of the Neidar clan. Particularly quarrelsome and grasping, the mountain dwarves' chief living is hiring themselves out as prospectors. They're very good at finding valuable mineral deposits but very bad at reporting accurately to their erstwhile employers.

The human inhabitants live in savage tribal conditions, with fortresslike strongholds from which they raid their neighbors. Their chiefs rule by the sword and perish with distressing regularity by the sword.

Centaurs live in nomadic bands. They keep on the move, trading in livestock and spices. Sullen and selfish, they are less violent than their human counterparts, if only because they have an easier living. Chiefs of their bands come to power by overthrowing their predecessors and stay chief only so long as they can hold down their many rivals.

The most settled folk in Estwilde are, oddly enough, goblins and giants. Both are despised by their more numerous human, centaur, and dwarf countrymen, the goblins for their supposed dirtiness and treacherous natures and the giants for their reputed cannibalism. In fact, the goblins work very hard to survive in a land that yields them no quarter. Young goblin males hire themselves out as mercenaries, but the only employers they can find are the dragonarmies. This makes them even more despised.

Goblins have an aristocratic system that transcends national borders. The highest of goblins is the kinghead, who has no court or crown but moves about the country looking like any common wight. There are dukes and lords and counts among the goblins too, who also live indifferently among the lower born. One theory about this odd system is that goblins copied it from legendary empires of the past—Ergoth's, for example—as a means of becoming "civilized." Over the centuries goblins have become very class conscious and among themselves behave with strict decorum, according to their rank. This natural subservience makes them useful servants and slaves, but does not earn them any respect.

Giants fear no creatures smaller than themselves. They live in rough stone houses in steep mountain valleys. Size confers rank among the giants. The tallest giant, male or female, is obeyed anytime a group of giants gets together. The tallest of all giants is designated as the khan, or king. Since giants do little but farm and hunt, they have little need for government. The task of the khan is to settle disputes between giants, [Usually by thrashing both parties with a tree trunk until they agree to behave.] negotiate trade or tribute from other peoples, and conducted magical ceremonies intended to promote the welfare of the giant race.

For such a patchwork country, Estwilde has resisted some very powerful foes, both dragon and non-dragon alike. Lacking real cities or a real government to capture, Estwilde is curiously difficult to conquer. [Not that a conqueror would get much. Estwilde is populated by an unpleasant combination of mountain barbarians, centaurs, and dwarves, as well as the odd goblin and giant. Furthermore, its boundaries have been reduced by the depredations of the dragons Fenalysten and Lorrinar.] The only way to control the country would he to occupy every square mile, putting down the resistance of half a hundred tribes and clans belonging to four different races. No army has the time or manpower for that, and the country isn't rich enough to justify such a monumental effort.

Hylo was born by happenstance. About 3,000 years ago, a band of kender washed ashore in a bay north of Ergoth. They prospered in typically haphazard kender fashion, penetrating the dense forest as far as the Sentinel Mountains, west of the bay. Since the conquest and destruction of the kender nations of Balifor and Kendermore, Hylo has become the kender homeland, and thousands of exiled folk have crossed land and sea at great peril to rest in the last haven of their race. [Though many, to the horror of the rest of Ansalon's population, wander freely through all the lands.]

For many centuries, the throne of Hylo belonged to the Windseed family, who reigned in an easy, openhanded way. Kender don't like rules, and the Windseed dynasty survived a long time by not making any. It's tempting to say the dynasts were merely ceremonial rulers, but along the way traditions were established—not by law but simply by familiar usage. Thus Hyloans pay taxes—when it suits them. The tax money goes to support minor government efforts such as an ancestors' shrine in Hylo City, an archive of scrolls with tales of Uncle Trapspringer and other kender heroes, and so on.

Every kender in Hylo is subject to call-up for the national militia in times of war, but there is no standing army. The Windseed family home (one cannot call it a palace!) was traditionally guarded by a squad of Solamnic Knights, but during the crises in the east following the Chaos War, even this small guard was withdrawn for duties in more crucial areas. As a result, when refugees from Balifor and Kendermore flooded into Hylo, there was no guard to resist the coup d'etat staged by the ambitious Belladonna of Kendermore. When confronted with the usurper and her minions, the reigning dynast, Fallana Windseed, reportedly remarked, "How rude!" She was kicked out of her house, and spends her days now complaining to anyone who'll listen about the bad manners of the eastern kender.

One curious side effect of kender lifestyle is that the population of Hylo is primarily children and the elderly. Adult kender of both sexes wander the world for many years, leaving their homes in the care of the too-young or too-old. This may help explain why kender government is so lackadaisical.

The history of the dwarf realms of Thoradin and Thorbardin are too lengthy to summarize here, but it is important to recognize the clans that dominate dwarf society.

Thoradin is home to members of the Daergar, Daewar, Hylar, Theiwar, and Zakhar clans. Politics in dwarven nations is about the struggle for supremacy between the clans. Thoradin was long under the rule of the despised Zakhar dwarves, dark and reclusive folk even by dwarven standards. Under threat of dragon attack, the xenophobic Zakhar tried to seal their mountain caverns against invasion, but reform forces under the visionary Severus Stonehand overthrew the last Zakhar king and his cronies, the Council of Prelates. Severus installed a Thorbardin-style monarchy in Thoradin, consisting of himself as high thane and supported by a council of thanes drawn from all the other clans, including the defeated Zakhar. In theory, the high thane can be overruled in decisions by the unanimous vote of his council, but a powerful personality like Severus Stonehand is not easily thwarted.

Dwarves take their politics very seriously. They seldom break clan lines, supporting the elders of their clan in bids to become thanes to the king. Occasionally a heroic figure like Severus (who is a Daewar dwarf) will win support from dwarves of all clans.

Thorbardin, greatest of all dwarf nations, is a wealthy, stable land of laws and justice. The high thane rules with due consideration of his council, and though the law of succession is by family and clan, the council of thanes retains the power to remove the high thane should he transgress against Thorbardin law.

In matters of national policy and trade, all adult Thorbardin dwarves vote their preference. Each clan represents a point of view as well as a family alliance, but clan lines tend to blur in Thorbardin. The stable, educated population tends to see issues facing their nation more broadly than as mere clan problems, and act accordingly. This is not to imply the Thorbardin dwarves have outgrown clan rivalries; they have not. Years of interaction with outsiders, especially the elves of Qualinesti, have given the Thorbardin dwarves a more worldly outlook than their Thoradin cousins.

Law and government do not exist in Throt. It is a true no-man's land, more so because no men call it home. The province is occupied by hobgoblins, goblins, ogres, and trolls. Most of these are runaway mercenaries once hired as sword fodder by the minions of Takhisis. During a lull in the wars, hobgoblins evicted the human settlers of Throt and quickly established themselves in a warren to tunnels and barrows. Displacing them was an ugly problem even the Knights of Solamnia were unwilling to undertake.

The wide-open state of Throt attracted other brutes in similar disarray, and waves of ogres, goblins, and trolls have swept into Throt, but they have not succeeded in overcoming the tenacious hobgoblins.

Like their kindred the goblins, hobgoblins have adopted the forms of monarchy and aristocracy. Unlike the goblins, they have attempted to created a true upper class for themselves. Throt has a self-proclaimed king, Uhkrin the Vile (called Uhkrin the Terrible to his face). With his ramshackle "capital" at Throtl, Uhkrin has made extortion and graft an official function of the state. In the kingdom of thieves, he's the biggest thief of all. All Throtians pay a percentage to the king in return for his "protection." Uhkrin in turn pays out coin and favors to maintain his large army of thugs and criminals, grandly labeled the Royal Army of Throt.

Sited as it is between Solamnia and Neraka, Throt does a brisk trade in espionage. For obvious ideological reasons, Throt tends to favor the Dark Knights over Solamnia, but the hobgoblins are well aware of the dangers of dancing too intimately with the ruthless masters of Neraka.

Getting by in daily life in Throt consists of paying off those more powerful, either in cash or in kind. The poor have no help, and theft is endemic. How long Throt can endure in such a state is a guess only the former gods could make.

Of other lands, now occupied or controlled by the great dragons, there is little to say. The dragons draw off the strength of the country for their own use, as a leech draws off the blood of its victim. Using intermediaries such as the Dark Knights, or hired mercenaries, the dragons reign supreme in their territories. They are likely to remain so until a greater power appears that can meet them on equal terms.