The Crown
A young empire, three generations old, that won its wars impossibly fast.
World & Story
First, the birds go quiet
The Crown won its wars impossibly fast. Nobody asks what paid for them. You are one of its Wardens, newly Blessed, and your first posting is a forest village where something is wrong.
The Rise
A young empire, a fast victory
The Crown is three generations old. It won every war it fought, and it won them faster than anyone thought possible.
People call those years the Rise. Chapels of Aurel the Righteous, the god who chose the Crown, went up in every town it took. The Church is everywhere now. It blesses the Crown's soldiers, and it sends the dead home with a rite called the Passing.
Before the Crown there was another people, the ones the Church calls the Godless. Their ruins are still everywhere: pumps, lifts, doors of worked steel, lamps that burn without flame. The Church says their engines are a sin. Every village still has a family that keeps one running.
You Are a Warden
The Crown's dogs
The Crown has an army. The jobs that matter go to the Wardens.
A Warden is an investigator, a field officer and a fixer, sent wherever the Crown needs something handled. On paper you outrank most soldiers. In practice you go where the army can't or won't.
Every Warden wears a steel neck guard as a badge. Behind your back, people call you a collar — well fed, well trained, and ready to bite whoever you're pointed at.
Wardens train for five years at Hallowmere, the Warden college, in steel and in spell. Once a year every Warden faces the review. Fail it, and you're "retired" to a posting nobody comes back from.
The Blessing
“Do you give yourself to Aurel, and to the Crown's cause?”
Every cadet at Hallowmere kneels at the chapel altar once. The priest asks the question. The cadet says “I do,” and drinks from a cup the Church calls Aurel's blood.
They rise stronger, faster and harder to kill. And from that day, when a Warden falls in the field, they wake again at the nearest chapel. The Church calls it Aurel's grace on those who fight for the Crown.
Nobody is Blessed twice. A cadet who hesitates at the altar is held back a year in disgrace. Very few hesitate twice.
Some Wardens never stop wanting the feeling back. The Church calls them seekers. Every Warden has met one. Every Warden privately worries about becoming one.
The Quiet
Named for the silence that comes first
Behind the Veil, the boundary between the world and whatever lies beyond it, something waits.
Soldiers named them the Quiet, for what happens before they are near: the birds stop singing, and the dogs stop barking. Nobody you know has seen one. You only feel them. A patrol comes back one short. A cold follows certain officers. Orders make no sense until much later.
The Church teaches that the Godless wore the Veil thin, and every sign of the Quiet is blamed on someone who kept an engine running. Neighbours report neighbours. Everyone is guilty of something.
“Amidst silent torches, our names ignite anew.”
Two Kinds of Power
A mage gets tired. Some things never do.
Honest magic comes from the caster's own strength. It runs out, and rest brings it back. You will learn in your first posting what it means when someone doesn't tire.
| Sign | Magic | Something else |
|---|---|---|
| Source | The caster's own strength | Borrowed. From whom, nobody says. |
| Cost | Fatigue. Rest brings it back. | It never runs out. Someone else pays. |
| The tells | Clean and bright. The caster visibly tires. | Black veins, breath that frosts in summer, a shadow that moves a beat late. |
Act One
Your first posting
A forest village. A tavern, an old tower, a Warden barracks, a college of mages, a crypt at the end of the west path, Godless ruins in the woods.
You walk in wearing your collar, and the gate guard spits. The Warden posted here asks you for a favour before you've even reported in. The priest is the only warm welcome in town.
And at the edge of the village stands an old chapel with a steel door that is warm to the touch. Stand near it long enough and you can hear something breathing on the other side.
Something is wrong here. You were sent to find out what.
Powers of Isara
Who holds the torches
The first powers you will meet. There are more, and not all of them are what they seem.
Story in development
The Wardens
The Crown's Blessed specialists. Feared, needed, never loved. You are one of them.
The Church of Aurel
It blesses the living and sends the dead home. Most of its priests believe every word.
The Quiet
Behind the Veil. Felt, never seen. Yet.
Your Path
Everyone starts as a Warden
How you finish your quests, not only whether you do, decides which way you lean. A few choices close doors for good.
Warden
Rank, Warden-only orders and gear. The more loyal you are, the more the Crown trusts you — with worse and worse secrets.
Sellsword
Coin, reputation and contracts from anyone who pays. Some jobs cut against the Crown, and the Wardens notice.
Rebel
Turn on the order that trained you, and be hunted by it — with its Blessing still in your blood.
The story is a living draft. Names and events may still change as we write. Follow the devlogs for more.
Light your torch
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