The Sarmatian Commonwealth

“I’ve never seen a people more dedicated and ready to be a part of something. This is what true freedom looks like.” —Domenica Vespucci

The Sarmatian Commonwealth, like many other nations in Théah, is ruled by a king or queen, but that is where all the similarities end. Since the two halves of the Commonwealth, Rzeczpospolita and Curonia, came together as one, the nobles of the Nation have voted for their leader. The voting power of the Sejm, the voting body of nobles, makes and passes laws including—until recently—a right to veto anything the ruler decreed.

That is until Golden Liberty, the final desperate act of a king who had been systematically stripped of his power. This gave the title of noble to everyone living in the Commonwealth, effectively removing the class divide and giving control of the Nation into the hands of the people.

Before Golden Liberty, three Vaticine priests and 13 Książę and Księżna (“Dukes” and “Duchesses”), rulers of Księstwa (Duchies, singular Księstwo), made up the Sejm and together administered to the Commonwealth.

Post-Golden Liberty, the Sejm became two houses: the Senat, or “upper house,” where the 16 old Sejm members (also known as the old nobility) meet and vote, and the house of deputies, the Izba Poselska, “lower house,” where the new nobility do the same.

The old nobles still have a fair bit of power. Most notably, the Książę and Księżna have retained admin-istrative control over their Księstwa, which means they can pass laws unilaterally in their own lands. These laws can only be overruled by national laws, passed by the Sejm, which requires both houses to vote and pass the law.

## Biały and Czerwony

The King or Queen Consort—the person married to the monarch—shares none of the monarch’s powers. She may not make laws and may not preside over the Sejm unless appointed as the monarch’s proxy (which the Sejm must approve). She also suffers none of the restrictions that bind the monarch, however, which means she may rule a Księstwo, hold other titles or keep her seat on the Sejm if she previously had one.

The current king, Stanisław I, is married to Małgorzata Domagała, Księżna Drajewicz. They live separately, Stanisław in Budorigum, Małgorzata in her Księstwo’s capital, Szablewo. Stanisław and his son, Aleksy, jointly declared Golden Liberty, and Małgorzata, seated as a Księżna in the Sejm, opposed it the loudest. Factionalism followed, and today there are two proto- political parties: the Biały (white) and the Czerwony (red).

A “Czerwony,” stereotypically, favors Golden Liberty and fights to maintain an open franchise; she is popu-list, pro-Vaticine, moderately pacifist and suspicious of Sanderis. She supports King Stanisław and Prince Aleksy, whom she refers to as Stanisław II. To show loyalty, she wears scarlet, the color of the capital, and, if she can, the King’s coat of arms.

A “Biały,” meanwhile, displays the Drajewicz twelve-pointed star and wears white to represent the marble found in Szablewo; he dresses conservatively in the styles worn pre-Golden Liberty. He is hardly trendy and very unlike Czerwony, who have taken to the new Sarmatian garb with relish.

This factionalism has spread beyond normal poli-tics. Szablewo’s elite colleges are rife with rumors of Czerwony forced to transfer or retire; Budorigum’s bars, meanwhile, host red-clad toughs looking to violently dye white coats.

The issue of class and new-versus-old nobility only compounds the problem. Stanisław and Aleksy command the majority within the Izba Poselska and have loyalists among the Senat’s sixteen older nobility. Małgorzata commands the majority in the Senat but has won herself a passel of landowners, professionals and academics. These supporters come from conser-vative middle-class minds who like the idea of having the franchise but are not sure the privilege should be extended to everyone. It is lost on no one that once Stanisław I dies, the two most likely candidates for monarch are Aleksy and Małgorzata.

## PRONOUNCING THE RZEPLITAN LANGUAGE

The Rzeplitan language has several accents and letters unfamiliar to the rest of Théah. Here is a basic pronunciation guide that may help:

* ą sounds like the on in bon when it comes at the end of a word or before most consonants, but sounds like om when before b or p.
* c sounds like ts, and ć sounds like ch, when you read ch together, it makes a sound like a soft h.
* ę sounds like ehn when in front of most consonants, but sounds like em when before b or p.
* ł sounds like w
* j sounds like y
* ó sounds like u
* ś sounds like sh
* w sounds like v
* ź sounds like the si in vision, but ż sounds like the g in mirage
* cz together makes the sound tch
* dź, dż, and rz together make a j sound, and dzi makes a jee sound.

So, a word like Książę and Księżna would sound like Kshon-jheh and Ksheh-zhna. And Księstwo and Księstwa would be Kshen-stvo and Kshen-stva. Stanisław is Stan-is-wav and Małgorzata Drajewicz is Maw-go-zhata Dra-ye-vitch.

Note: The Curonian language is quite a bit diﬀerent from Rzeplitan, but few other than rural Curonians speak only that language. Most people speak Rzeplitan alone, or both languages. A Hero can get by with only knowing Rzeplitan in most places in the Commonwealth.

## A Democratic Nation

The people in the Sarmatian Commonwealth have a new focus. Even the poorest Curonian farmer has the hope of making a difference. This has led to a positive atmosphere all over the Nation.

Many of the people who were once considered peas-ants view the Golden Liberty as a sort of freedom. Some have picked up and left the farms and work- stations they once toiled to seek better things. Others, unsure of what this new ability really means, continue to dwell in the dirt, often at the insistence of those who still rule them.

Democracy comes with its own slew of problems though, as the people of the Commonwealth are coming to find out. When everyone gets to voice their opinion about how to solve a problem, they find out that there are as many different opinions as there are different people. While the Senat, what used to simply be the Sejm, is now in full working order, the Izba Poselska is not. The old nobles finally spend time to create laws and pass bills instead of blocking each other, but each law passed by one part of the house must also go through a vote with the other.

The new nobility agree on one thing, that the old nobility have had their time in the sun. They often refuse to pass laws the Senat voted on, even if they don’t understand their purpose, just to spite them.

In addition, coming up with new laws is exceed-ingly difficult for the Izba Poselska. First, they must be called into session by King Stanisław I, which is sometimes difficult due to his health issues. Second, they have a hard time agreeing on anything and proposed laws end up in tatters after only a single session in the house.

Many of the voters cannot read, and so proposals end up going through word of mouth. Depending on the complexity of the proposition, the language may get muddled. Beyond that, those who disagree with one or more points argue for their versions instead of the proposed one. It can take several weeks for the Izba Poselska to pass a single proposed law to send to the Senat.

In that time, the Senat proposes three times as many laws, and many of the new nobles reach a point of fatigue on voting and arguing. To say that the Sejm has ground to a halt is not true though. Quite a few dedicated people have taken it upon themselves to continue to try to direct the lesser house and propose meaningful laws. Some of these have even been passed all the way through the Senat, generally with promises to pass some Senat law that comes to vote in the near future.

## Important People in the Commonwealth

### King Stanisław I

Stanisław Gracjan was a scholar before he started going blind—first his night vision went, then periph-eral, and finally, the day his mother died, his vision started to tunnel. He hired a Močiutės Skara member, Rugilė Savickė (pronounced: ROO-gil-ea sa-VIK-ea), to read to him, and soon all the other nobles whis-pered of his blindness. When he was elected king, the other nobles thought him easy to control, and for a while, he was.

Stanisław didn’t want to be king, but he accepted the election. And when the Sejm told him he was to marry Małgorzata Domagała, the powerful scion of House Drajewicz, he accepted that too. Separation from his home, his ever-worsening vision and Budorigum’s responsibilities all took a toll on him; he began leaning on Małgorzata, appointing her his proxy to the Sejm. After their son was born, she began implying his blindness made him useless; sunk into depression, he believed her. She isolated him socially from all but his son and Rugilė. When Małgorzata started to strike him with her heavy signet ring (embossed with the Drajewicz twelve-pointed star), he accepted it as due. Rugilė and Aleksy brought him brief joy, but it seemed nothing could snap him out of his despair until Małgorzata overstepped.

It started when Rugilė lost her temper with the queen and struck her. This was treason, and the queen imprisoned Rugilė. Three days later, when the king brushed his hands over his son’s face, he felt scabs, the blood dried into the shape of a twelve-pointed star.

Within a week, he banished the queen from the Palace on pain of imprisonment. Within a month, Rugilė had been pardoned, recalled from prison to retake her place in the palace (with Uppman’s note-books, no less). Suddenly, to the nobles’ surprise, Stanisław changed into a King; a lion in winter, but no weak man, who administered Budorigum and presided over the Sejm even while blind. As he remarked to Rugilė afterward, he still doesn’t like being king, but he realizes now it is not a burden—it is a responsibility. And among the commoners (now “New Nobles”), he enjoys an extreme popularity, though that effect has not yet fountained up to the Old Nobility.

Recently he has begun suffering from mysterious bouts of sickness, and when he is too ill to move, his son serves in the Sejm as his proxy.

#### Portraying Stanisław I

In public, Stanisław speaks quietly, with precision and dignity, but he always seems weary and very rarely happy. In private he becomes more at ease, especially when being scholarly; he has a tremendous memory, knows all the books in his library and can quote verbatim anything Rugilė has read to him. His voice rings with pride when he speaks of his son, and Rugilė almost always stands by his side.

A patient man, he listens to the concerns of his people, and is the only one who can bring the lower house to order, which he does on a regular basis. He has a quick mind and is no one’s fool. He might not be able to see well, but it does not hinder his ability to read people.

#### Story Hooks

* Stanisław tries to be a strong king, but the years he spent not ruling have taken their toll. The Old Nobility, unused to his pres-ence, resents his “interference,” and in the many in the Royal Household suspect his sickness is caused by an Old Noble’s poison. The Heroes must discover the truth, and if they find the sickness sinister, reveal how the sneak accesses the king!
* Even Stanisław’s personal guard find them-selves split between Biały and Czerwony, making his house look weak as disputes arise often. A few Biały are plotting to assas-sinate the king, to force a new election while Domagała still has the ear of most of the Senat. Some of his guards have been courted to help, but now they must choose between loyalty and political aspirations. Can the Heroes talk some sense into the guards and ensure they continue to do their jobs?

### Aleksy Gracjan Nowak (Stanisław II)

Aleksy Gracjan Nowak still feels shame when he thinks about his first twelve years. When he was young, his mother hurt his father and he felt help-less and did nothing, but the first time his mother thought to hurt him, his father became furious and banished her. Reflecting, he feels like he failed his father by not trying to protect him sooner. Rugilė and Stanisław tell him that is not the case, but that hardly helps.

After his mother left the palace, little Aleksy blos-somed. He learned how to dance, wield a sword and became bubbly and charming. He was also a vora-cious learner, endlessly curious, but when Rugilė introduced him to Uppman’s writings, he came into conflict with himself. He had enough of his mother’s hauteur to want to be king after his father died—but enough intellectual fire (and personal experience with helplessness) to seriously consider that monarchy and hierarchy might be regressive.

At sixteen, he discovered Sophia’s Daughters, a Rilasciare branch that smuggled persecuted women from Vodacce. Since that seemed uncomplicatedly good, he threw himself into smuggling, working under the codename flaki, “tripe soup” (he had hidden a lot in the kitchens in his youth), since it would have been awkward for a member of the Royal Family to commit espionage openly. He eventually met and married Domenica Vespucci through the organiza-tion, having smuggled her into the Commonwealth through the Society.

Vespucci’s commentary on Uppman helped inspire Golden Liberty (the fact that Rilasciare activity inspired Golden Liberty is not public knowledge). He adopted the surname Nowak to show his unequivocal support of the new nobility. The resulting popularity gained Aleksy the nick-name “Stanisław II” and made him the favorite to succeed his father as monarch, with the only other obvious contender for the position being his mother. And with Stanisław I frequently crippled by sickness, he stands as his father’s proxy in the Sejm, facing off against her.

Aleksy seriously contemplates not standing for election. After all, in a country where the people rule, what is a king but a figurehead? And a figure-head Nowak would not mind being—if he were not already going blind. He is losing his vision as his father before him, and much has been made of his father’s blindness as weakness. If Aleksy stands against his mother for election, will he have to bluff away his blindness?

#### Portraying Aleksy Gracjan Nowak

Aleksy Nowak looks like his mother, all high cheek-bones and pale skin, but where she appears impassive, he overbrims with expression. He displays a palpable joy to the way he lives, though in private moments, care stoops him like his father. Overall, he is a picture of youth, energy and health. His new wife’s magic may be a bit to blame, but the work he does to make his Nation the best in Théah gives him its own kind of energy.

He is thoughtful and careful. Years avoiding his mother’s ire have given him a wealth of patience. He thinks before he speaks and takes care to say the most politic of things. In private, he is more open and opinionated, discussing his feelings on topics as complicated as revolution and as basic as which meat pies are the best.

Aleksy is deeply involved with the running of the Commonwealth and has a vested interest in seeing this new democracy prosper. He does what he can to help the new nobility, while always trying to find new ways to appease the old.

#### Story Hooks

* Someone has been killing Biały in Budorigum and carving their faces with Aleksy’s personal seal. Małgorzata has been making the most of it, and Nowak needs the Heroes to find the killers before he can no longer keep peace in his city.
* Aleksy thinks he inherited his blindness from his father, but Domenica believes a curse affects his failing sight. Can the Heroes confirm or refute Domenica’s suspicions and find a way to cure Aleksy?

### Domenica Vespucci

Domenica Vespucci was born a Fate Witch, twinned to her brother Ennio, and from early days, her father’s plan for the pair was clear: Ennio would inherit Carlo Vespucci’s shipping conglomerate, and Domenica would be his companion, his constant support, the silent Fate Witch by his side, protecting and keeping him free to marry a non-Fate Witch ally.

Ennio, though, had no ambition—Domenica, it seems, had gotten his share—and from an early age the twins cared more for each others’ desires than their father’s plans. As many ambitious women in Vodacce do, Domenica joined Sophia’s Daughters young. Ennio helped her by teaching her to read in secret. She immersed herself in Rilasciare philosophy while her brother practiced dueling and bribed her with books to help him cheat at lessons.

Under the codename cielo giallo, “Yellow Sky,” Domenica found herself running the Vodacce side of a Daughters’ operation to smuggle Streghe to the Sarmatian Commonwealth. Her opposite number, a Sarmatian Rilasciare agent codenamed “Tripe Soup,” began writing her to discuss logistics. Their correspondence soon expanded to cover philosophy and personal anecdotes, details blurred on the latter, of course.

For three years, Vespucci remained ignorant of her correspondent’s identity, until around the time the Sarmatian Prince Aleksy began courting. At this point, her correspondent began implying he was a servant in the Palace with intimate knowledge of Prince Aleksy’s courtships—a trusted confidant of the prince, in fact. He sought advice on suitors and began sending Domenica detailed descriptions of courtships, at which point Vespucci took a guess at his identity and wrote back, You should marry me.

Domenica’s father was a second-tier shipping magnate; accordingly, she was no fit consort for a man who might become a king. But Vespucci knew her correspondent, knew his contrarian, impulsive tendencies, knew she was a little bit in love with him—and could intuit he felt much the same. The gamble paid off; Aleksy acquiesced to an engagement, and she sailed with her brother to the Commonwealth.

Their first face-to-face meeting, mere days before her writings helped inspire Aleksy to Golden Liberty, was marred by a coup attempt masterminded by the Książę Kazimierz, Marcen Sabat. In the aftermath of that, Domenica saved the prince and the king, earning herself a warm welcome into Théah’s most radical Royal Family.

#### Portraying Domenica Vespucci

Veiled but no beauty, Domenica Vespucci is easy to ignore. In Vodacce, it serves as a survival strategy, but here, that is just how she likes it. She stands back and lets Aleksy work a room, but swoops in and saves conversations when needed.

Years in a clandestine organization have taught her to enjoy people underestimating her. Publicly, she plays the dim foreigner, still struggling with the language, but privately, she speaks with no accent and makes Aleksy shout with her sharp observations.

Domenica is a cunning woman who cares more for her new adopted Nation than the one she grew up in. She uses her power over fate to help her husband, but rarely uses it beyond that. She pushes herself to be the epitome of what Uppman claims everyone should be, and only uses her power when absolutely necessary.

#### Story Hooks

* Domenica’s father has approached her and Aleksy, seeking a position in the Sarmatian Court. Vespucci is convinced her father actu-ally came here to spy for a Merchant Prince, but can the Heroes prove it?
* A small-time printshop has somehow acquired Domenica’s commentary on Uppman. The printer sells copies of the commentary cheap, and their appearance with Domenica’s name has caused a scandal. Vespucci hires one of the Heroes to reveal himself as the “real” author and the rest to do damage control.

### Landon Cross

Landon Cross grew up in the small town of Baelig in the middle of the Síocháin Forest in Avalon. The rumor of the town is that his mothers, both animal trappers, made a deal with the Sidhe to grant them a child in return for protecting the Sidhe animals. They refuse to verify the rumors, but Cross does have an almost Sidhe-like appearance.

The truth, of course, is less strange than the fiction. Cross’s mothers adopted him from an orphanage in Carleon, where he was left as an infant. The small gold pendant he wears around his neck is one of the only hints to his heritage, along with his pale skin and stark white hair, which shines silver in the sun.

Cross learned his mothers’ trade of trapping and hunting, and seemed to have a knack for dealing with the wildest of the woodland creatures, even those touched by Glamour. Despite a near idyllic childhood and upbringing, the question of his heritage always bothered Cross.

When Daníele and the other Sidhe came from Bryn Bresail, Cross felt compelled to speak with them. He traveled to Carleon and through a bit of fast-talking and quick wit, gained an audience with the Sidhe emissary. They did not know his parentage, but agreed that he probably had Sidhe blood somewhere in his ancestory. Not satisfied with such a vague answer, Cross pressed them further.

He did not get the answers he wanted, but instead got a job. Daníele liked his perseverance and mettle, and wanted to help him find his parentage, but this would be a big endeavor for them. In exchange, he would have to perform a task for them, outside of Avalon.

Within a week, Cross had a ship, a crew and a letter of writ from Queen Elaine. He first went to Montaigne, where he brought what appeared to be a blank sheet of paper to an old hermit in a forest. He signed the paper and gave it back to Cross, thanking him profusely for his efforts.

Next, Daníele sent him to Ussura, where he had to track down and gain the favor of the Leshy Vir’ava. In the course of doing so, his privateer crew made friends with some local Ushkuiniks when Cross was able to soothe a particularly violent vodyanoi. Enough so that the greater Brotherhood of the Coast members offered to aid Avalonian ships traversing the Maw.

Now Cross and his crew are in the Sarmatian Commonwealth, charged with finding a dievas in the Sanderas Forest. He doesn’t know what greater good his trip will end up serving for Avalon, but he suspects there is a secondary reason. That, or Daníele just enjoys sending him to dangerous parts of Théah.

#### Portraying Landon Cross

Landon Cross is slight of frame and shorter than the average Avalon man. He keeps his nearly translucent skin covered in multiple layers of light clothing to reflect the sunlight. He wears a wide-brimmed hat to cover his shock of silver hair. When he grins, which he often does, his sharp teeth poke down over his lip.

Cross is a friendly man, though he is full of mischief and unusual ideas. He never approaches a situation the way people expect, and it serves him well to remain unpredictable. He is a trained hunter and trapper and is skilled at all types of ranged weapons, and he isn’t so bad with a sword either.

He is helpful if asked, though his number one priority is Avalon and his deal with the Sidhe to find out who his real parents are. He refuses to do anything that might jeopardize that arrangement.

#### Story Hook

* Cross has heard stories of Katabasis, a way for a losejas to kill his dievas, and is looking to possibly head out with a losejas in search of the dievas he is looking for. The problem is, no losejas is willing to take him on such a personal quest, and the people within Voruta refuse to act as guides. Will the Heroes go with the Avalonian, or possibly find a losejas who is willing to take him along?

### Rugilė Savickė

Before the king was the King, Rugilė Savickė took care of him.

The first time was in a field hospital set up by members of Grandmother’s Shawl used primarily to house refugees blinded by quicklime. Stanisław Gracjan, brought there after being wounded in battle, had a habit of quoting texts in fever dreams that soon grabbed Rugilė’s attention. Before the war, she had been a book peddler on a donkey’s back, a round-spectacled Yachidi Curonian autodidact who read every text she sold from a sack. This fellow bibliophile intrigued her and so late at night she read to him and they became fast friends.

She noted he was going blind and, hearing of her background with books and the quicklime-blinded, he asked her to accompany him back to his castle, to become his reader and book collector, for though born to power, the written word kept him sane. She agreed.

Over time, she fell in love with the king, and she and Małgorzata orbited warily for years. She tutored Aleksy, and taught him to hide from Małgorzata in the kitchen. When she struck the queen, she committed treachery, but it was also a long time coming. In prison, the queen (who knew her ways of coping well) forbade her books. A fellow prisoner slipped her the Rilasciare’s writings, Uppman’s note-books, and she read them.

It did not strike her as strange when Uppman called for the death of Kings—for hadn’t she just been betrayed by a king herself? Hadn’t she just learned that even when the best man she could imagine was a monarch, the world remained twisted and unfair? Maybe death was a harsh punishment, but nobility certainly needed to go away.

When Stanisław fetched her from the prison, she read the journals to the king, daring him to order her to stop, order the journals seized and burned. He never silenced her; he let her read, and when she asked, “May I show these to your son?” He said, “I trust you.”

She showed them to Aleksy, and she and Stanisław spoke of them no more. When Aleksy dreamed up Golden Liberty, and Stanisław signed it into law, she stopped herself from asking if the notebooks had inspired them.

#### Portraying Rugilė Savickė

Rugilė Savickė’s wide eyes and round face make her look much younger than her age, an impression not belied by her quick, birdlike movements. Her hair remains dark, with only a few streaks of grey peppering her temples.

Almost inevitably she stands by the king’s side, holding a book in her hand. At diplomatic functions, she is deferent, if a bit too protective of Stanisław. In private, she is an energetic teacher, always eager to share her newest knowledge.

#### Story Hooks

* Savickė is Stanisław’s shadow, his reader, his writer, his constant companion. She still loves him, but a decade of Małgorzata running the palace and a stint in prison have not left her unwounded. Domenica and Aleksy want to engineer a reconciliation between the two, but that will be a delicate maneuver—Rugilė’s a new noble and a Yachidi, and Stanisław remains married. They ask the Heroes to help engineer a clan-destine meeting without revealing Aleksy or Domenica’s involvement.
* Rugilė Savickė has joined the Rilasciare body and soul. Even now, with the Golden Liberty, she has work to do. She knows Małgorzata Domagała still has designs on the throne, and works against her at every step. She is torn between that and her duties to the king, whose health worsens every day. She needs someone to help her poison the Sejm against Domagała when she can’t.

### Małgorzata Domagała  (Queen Consort & Księżna Drajewicz)

Małgorzata Domagała is the oldest daughter of the Drajewicz house, and inherited the title of Księżna when she was barely sixteen. She grew up immersed in the politics of the Sejm, and for the most part has always had what’s best for the Commonwealth in her mind. Her marriage to Stanisław was purely convenience, but it also put her in a position to do the most good.

The most galling thing for Małgorzata is that she served as a good queen. The country prospered under her rule. City coffers stayed full, Castillian refugees received passage to the Commonwealth, and she wrangled the Sejm into a semblance of coordination—the country worked. Given that, why should her domestic abuses matter? The country never suffered under her rule. And if Stanisław had not wanted to suffer, well, he should have been her partner, instead of hiding under black moods and letting her run the country alone.

Even before Golden Liberty, Domagała thought the Sejm a mistake; the Commonwealth needed more centralized control, à la Queen Elaine’s Avalon. Golden Liberty she considers a disaster in the making. In the Senat, she is fond of saying “if illit-erates can vote, mobs rule.” Democracy may work in times of peace but it can hardly stand stress, hence Małgorzata’s scheme.

The Ussuran General Winter plans to invade the Commonwealth, and Domagała knows this. She made an alliance with him: he promised her the Sarmatian throne in exchange for a warm-water port and unfettered access to the River Sejm.

What General Winter does not know is that she plans to betray him. She refuses to be the Ussuran’s puppet queen, nor let the Commonwealth become General Winter’s vassal state. Instead, once General Winter’s invasion has impressed the citizens of the Commonwealth with the need for strong leadership, she plans to step forward and take the throne on her own merits—and beat the Ussurans back.

#### Portraying Małgorzata Domagała

Małgorzata has the brittle pride of someone who has been in the wrong for many years but would break before admitting it. Her posture is impeccable, her beauty dramatic, perhaps even more so with her face lined than when young.

Her manner is haughty but otherwise impas-sive; her cold blue eyes are by default dismissive. Her skin and hair are so pale as to be near-trans-parent, and her long, precise fingers tremble almost imperceptibly.

Domagała, a tremendously competent administrator, demands the same competence from her underlings and allies. Should a Hero oppose her and prove himself competent, she tries to talk him over onto her side: she genuinely fears mob rule and will even swallow her pride. She shows her tremendous temper only in private, and those she abuses, verbally and otherwise, are always under her power.

#### Story Hooks

* Małgorzata served as the Commonwealth’s de facto ruler when the Inquisition’s purges started in Castille. She could not stand the idea of a Nation killing its own intelligentsia, so she set up a shipping lane dedicated to smuggling Inquisition targets out of Castille. Now, those who oppose her threaten to tell the Inquisition where to find the refugees. Can the Heroes stop the Czerwony from bringing the Inquisition to their door?
* Domagała has a plan to get rid of Golden Liberty. She proposed a law within the Sejm with arcane language, expressly to confound the uninitiated and make it appear benefi-cial. If the law passes, she can reinstate the distinction between noble and commoner, removing their rights to vote. Will the Heroes convince the Izba Poselska to vote against the new law?

### Ugnė Urbonė (Księżna Janusz)

Ugnė Urbonė (pronounced: OOG-nea OOR-BON-nea) is a Curonian through and through. She is one of the few sitting in the Senat, and it makes her bold and mostly exasperated with the petty concerns they hold. She is sarcastic and full of wit, challenging the others to think before they speak. She peppers her speech with provincial idioms the way other posłowie (Senators) do not. When she votes, she votes determinedly pragmatic: “Who will pay for this ship? Who will unload this cargo?” When Senat members start arguing semantics, she yawns.

She is a Curonian national Hero, in part because of her manner: Curonians, never not tired of Rzeplitan pretensions, admire her irreverence. Besides, she is the Senat’s foremost defender of Curonian interests, to the point where she argues quite seriously that the capital should be moved into Curonia. On top of that, she is an active and dedicated member of the Ratas, known for assisting in the captures of more rogue losejai than any other living being.

No Biały, she sneers at Szablewo snobbery and seems mostly unbothered by Golden Liberty. No Czerwony, she fiercely protects Sanderis (fond of saying it is less dangerous than democracy—both test power and responsibility) and argues that the mili-tary should arm itself to fight Ussura (she especially worries for Złotogóra, which provides Voruta with most of its food).

Ugnė’s name has in fact become synonymous with being skeptical of both factions, and (to her own chagrin) she has been taken up by those who feel the same—especially Curonians—as an icon. The Curonians will do whatever she says, trusting her to always have their best interests in mind.

Of course, that means if the monarch elections come down to Małgorzata or Aleksy, she could serve as the Kingmaker. Or Queenmaker. Ironically.

Or she could throw her own hat in the ring once Stanisław I dies and try to wrest the monarchy away from the current dynasty. Though Ugnė is not as popular as Małgorzata or Aleksy (Curonia is half the size of Rzeczpospolita, after all), monarchy voting is a current hotbed of political action. The Senat are the only ones who can legally vote, as of right now, and who they may vote for is anyone’s guess. Many of the new nobles are pushing for Izba Poselska voting rights, which could tip the vote for monarch closer in her direction than anyone would suspect, as plenty of Biały and Czerwony would rather have her in power than the other candidates.

For her own part, Ugnė is more concerned about dealing with an inevitable war with Ussura, or stop-ping some kind of ridiculous Biały versus Czerwony civil war, than she is about voting rights in the Sejm. Though if she were somehow voted in as Queen, she would do a damned fine job of it.

#### Portraying Ugnė Urbonė

Ugnė Urbonė is bigger than her body. When she walks, she takes long strides and swings her arms wide. In the Senat, she is a menace. She burps and yawns and swears like a peasant, and acts conspicuously Curonian in idioms and accent—let no one forget that the Commonwealth is not all Rzeczpospolita!

If you see her with the Ratas or administering her Księstwo (mostly Voruta; the Sanderas resists admin-istration), she clearly possesses substance behind that style. Late nights after doing business, her eyes bruise with care, and danger to either prompts a white-lipped intensity impossible to mistake.

In her home, she is welcoming and accommodating. She believes in Curonian hospitality and shows it to any who come calling. She might even make you her famous cepelinai if you stay the night. She only cares about business that affects her, feigning boredom or anger if someone asks her to get involved in anything outside her own sphere of influence.

#### Story Hooks

* Ugnė is widowed, has no children and plans to go on Katabasis soon—a tradition that sends her deep into the Sanderas Forest to attempt to destroy her dievas. She wants to choose an heir before she goes, at least provi-sionally, and hires the Heroes to round up suitable candidates.
* Urbonė’s husband took his own life three years ago, and she bound herself to the dievas who convinced him to do it. Determined to destroy her husband’s demon, her own trips into the Sanderas have netted her nothing—other dievai fear her dievas and refuse to sell him out while he rides her senses. Can the Heroes enter the forest and discover enough about Ugnė’s dievas to destroy him?

### Azucena Esquivel

Azucena Esquivel fled the Castillian Inquisition on a ship chartered by Małgorzata Domagała. She made her way to the capital, intending to offer her services to the Queen, and discovered that that the King had banished her. Hoping to discover why, she took a job as a Palace guard.

She asked questions. Her quiet curiosity brought her to the attention of the little prince, who interro-gated her in his twelve-year-old way, and then asked her to teach him swordfighting.

As she watched Aleksy grow, Esquivel became convinced that he would make a great king. He took his responsibilities seriously and clearly wanted to make his Nation better. The Sejm, she despised—the nobles only obstruct, and treat the king with insufficient respect—but Golden Liberty made her uneasy. How could rule by all not devolve to mob rule? The king and prince, both fine rulers, had made themselves more powerless by allowing it. They may have tremendous faith in human nature, but Azucena does not. After all, she grew up with the Inquisition.

As a sworn member of Los Vagabundos, she protected Aleksy during Marcen Sabat’s coup attempt. After that, she supported the Senat’s insistence on reforming the slachta, the royal guard, and was named their leader.

Even as leader of the slachta, Azucena remains conflicted enough to think of leaving to serve Małgorzata. For all that she is a monster in her private life, Queen Małgorzata was a superb proxy leader. When Golden Liberty goes topsy-turvy, Aleksy and Stanisław will not retake power. So who but the queen can seize the reins and impose regnal order when the mob starts making Inquisitions?

#### Portraying Azucena Esquivel

Azucena Esquivel is quiet, reserved and still. She prefers to be overlooked, blending in as just another piece of furniture in the room. The position of bodyguard suits her; people often ignore soldiers flanking Royalty.

Force her to speak about something that makes her uneasy and suddenly she turns into a fiery, gesticulating, stereotypical Castillian. Such passion, she says, does not suit her; she would rather stay silent and keep her own counsel than risk conflict by sharing her opinions.

#### Jan Noreyko and Gintarė Žilinskė

When only sixteen people ran the Sejm, knowing the law was a sucker’s game. The law shifted to what the Sejm said it was. If any ancient decree seemed inconvenient, they overlooked or overturned it. Jan Noreyko, an energetic law wonk, nephew of the scion of House Tokarz, was a man whose obsession with legislation made him a pariah. No one cared all that much that he could cite city codes or obscure laws, especially when his peers were all connected to the Sejm nobles in some way.

With Golden Liberty, that all changed. Suddenly the law became everyone’s business, and knowing what it actually said—all the ancient decrees and obscure loopholes—granted one power during meetings.

Noreyko became plenty popular after Golden Liberty, as every old noble who wanted some-thing over the rank-risen peasants consulted him on obscure points of law. By Golden Liberty’s six-month anniversary, Noreyko’s services were so popular that Tokarz bought him a townhouse two blocks from the Sejm so members of the Senat could consult him on all occasions. He became the first official Sarmatian lawyer.

When the now-noble peasants heard about this, they decided they too needed a lawyer, in order to stay abreast of the old nobles. It seemed the most politically prudent thing to do, even if they didn’t really know what good a lawyer could do for them. Their search brought them to Gintarė Žilinskė (pronounced: gin-TAR-ea JIL-ensk-ea), one of the only people in the city who could match Noreyko’s knowledge and fervor for the law.

She also happened to be Noreyko’s former archivist, assistant and lover. Her townhouse sat on the oppo-site side of the Sejm from Noreyko’s, and her library matched his, book for book. And while Noreyko fought for the status quo, Žilinskė fought for the new nobility.

Cue a rivalry that destroyed their friendship, part-nership and love affair all in one day.

When the peasantry recruited Žilinskė, Noreyko offered to help pay for her townhouse across from the Sejm. Žilinskė refused, telling him that she could afford her own arrangements. He then started refusing to discuss cases with her. She did not want to be rivals. But it seemed he was intent on setting her up as such.

Instead, she wanted him to come work with her and help create a new, better Commonwealth by assisting the Izba Poselska. Noreyko refused. The Senat had helped him start up, and their money was what had brought them both into prominence. He would be betraying his family if he started assisting peasants, and she was betraying him by doing the same. And anyway, was she really convinced this Golden Liberty thing was a good idea?

Žilinskė threw a mug of sipping chocolate at him in response to that question. Noreyko went home and pulled up precedents for a few particularly repressive curfew laws his uncle could cite in the Sejm the next day. He was convinced Žilinskė was working on a lost cause, and was determined to show her as such by beating her in the Sejm.

Žilinskė went home and felt bad about throwing sipping chocolate at her lover. The next day, she heard Noreyko’s uncle citing those curfew laws when arguing for a suite of regressive anti-peasant policies. And she viewed it as a declaration of war. Then—well, they both dug in after that, rationalizing their positions with shows of self-righteousness. Now, eighteen months past Golden Liberty, neither speaks to the other because why would they? Their former friend—former lover—represents everything wrong with this country.

They snipe at each other’s clients, send subordinates to spy on the other and generally put their noses up at anything the other says or does. For two people who claim to want to have nothing to do with each other, they certainly spend a great deal of time invested in what the other is doing.

Either way, the Sejm has never been more active with confirming past precedents and setting new ones. The new nobles show a fervor for pushing through new legislation, and the old nobles have a penchant for stymieing anything the Izba Poselska puts forward.

#### Portraying Gintarė Žilinskė

In public, Gintarė Žilinskė has fierce, scrappy dignity. She is mousy and ever agitated, but has the hard-bitten look of someone who pulled herself up by her bootstraps.

In her office, when she thinks she is alone, she talks to a Jan who is not there. She spends a lot of time asking, “what would Jan do?” and predicting argu-ments his clients might make. She practices her scowl in front of the mirror in case someone asks about losejai, but confront her on it unexpectedly and she just as likely becomes flustered.

#### Story Hook

* Gintarė recently began consulting with losejai who want to construct airtight deals with dievai. She keeps the connection secret, because her more superstitious clients may leave if they find out. But it seems that Jan’s apprentice has found out somehow, and threatens to reveal it to her other clients. Can the Heroes help her deal with her blackmailer?

#### Portraying Jan Noreyko

Jan Noreyko is the archetypal absent-minded bureau-crat, the sort who gets ink on his hands and in his hair, the sort who cannot find books in the library now that he no longer has an archivist in his employ.

If asked about Gintarė, he starts arguing with her as if she is there, then shakes his head distractedly when asked about this. If asked about working with losejai, he has a rebuttal planned, a nice spiel about harm reduction and the danger of poorly planned contracts, but it comes out stiff: he is not a very good actor.

#### Story Hook

* Jan Noreyko began consulting with losejai who want to construct airtight deals with dievai. He keeps it a secret hoping Gintarė won’t find out and take his business. The problem is, his last bit of advice backfired on his client, and now she looks to take it out on him. Can the Heroes help him ward off this angry Sorcerer?

### Jędrzej Jerzy Maciejowski

Jędrzej Jerzy Maciejowski was born to an old noble family who had for the past century lost more and more favor with the rest of the Sejm. First, they became Objectionists, when most of Rzeczpospolita was Vaticine. They then decried violence and the War, and eventually his father became a small voice against so many dissenters. To avoid too much political blowback, the family moved to Curonia when Jędrzej was young.

His father’s ideals stuck with him as he grew older, and Jędrzej also despises violence, viewing those who use it as weak and bullies. It’s no wonder that he joined the Močiutės Skara early in life. He travels all over Théah with the organization, doing all he can to help people touched by violence and war.

The Shawl is where he met Lina, a fellow agent, and a losejas. Maciejowski had always been enamored by the women he met, but Lina captured his fancy like no other. She liked him, but he idealized her, which made her uncomfortable. He saw beauty in her, and refused to see any of her flaws. She tried to enchant him to see the bad parts of people as well as the good. The tricky dievas turned it into a curse to always find fault with someone he might love.

After that, he found living alone to be the best way to avoid heartache. While working with the Shawl, he has grown to hate politics, as he has seen how power corrupts, leading to violence, bloodshed and worse. He now goes by the name Andrzej Kisiel, to dissassociate himself from the politics of the Senat, where he ostensibly has a seat since his father passed.

Kisiel is torn by this prospect. He wants nothing to do with the corrupting power the Senat poses, but he also knows that having a member of the Senat on their side could help the new nobility a great deal.

#### Portraying Jędrzej Jerzy Maciejowski

Jędrzej Jerzy Maciejowski, or Andrzej Kisiel as most know him, is a typical Sarmatian with dark hair and crystal blue eyes. He is easygoing and often friendly, though when being serious, he takes on an icy demeanor.

Kisiel is a passionate man, mostly in the form of laughter and helping those who need it, but when angered, he goes into a blind rage. Quick to lend a hand, and slow to anger, Kisiel is one of the Shawl’s most trusted agents.

### Estera Sabat (Księżna Kazimierz)

Marcen Sabat, Rzeplitan scion of House Kazimierz, ruled a Curonian Księstwo but never identified much with other Curonians. He grew enamored of big city life during his time in the Senat, and he never could convince himself that the Curonians were really civilized.

Thus, when his daughter Estera was born, she had barely learned to walk before he sent her off to Budorigum—the height of Rzeplitan civilization—to be fostered with a passel of younger Drajewicz. Growing up in Budorigum, Estera insisted on dressing only in black, stole from the other noble chil-dren and took to climbing the drainpipes and turrets; from this, she gained the nickname czarna kotka, “the Black Cat.”

It had always been the elder Sabat’s ambition to marry Estera to the prince, and even before the prince officially began seeking suitors, Estera pursued him. The pursuit led to no marriage, but a friendship bloomed between the two; Estera admired how Aleksy could engender trust, and he admired her verve and daring.

Circumstances sorely tested that friendship when Marcen Sabat decided to counter the Golden Liberty (and Aleksy’s decision to marry a Vodacce woman) by attempting a coup against the Royal Family. Estera betrayed her father in order to protect Aleksy; the coup ultimately failed and the Sejm stripped the Książę of his titles, passing his properties to Estera.

Estera Sabat, Księżna Kazimierz, now rules the wealthy Curonian city of Sperus and its surrounding lands; however, her life remains far from simple. A powerful movement, centered in Sperus, seeks to vote her out of power.

To them, she is a Rzeplitan raised in Budorigum with a reputation for slippery business, a daughter of a traitor and a black-clad thief, who rumor has it, has been spotted climbing onto people’s roofs at night. And they aren’t far off the mark. The only thing keeping her in power, in fact, is Prince Aleksy’s whole-hearted endorsement of her, a situation she resents to no end.

#### Portraying Estera Sabat

Estera Sabat dresses in all black, and sits and lounges like a cat. She has sandy blonde hair, always tied back and kept out of her way, and tawny eyes. She is lithe and muscular, though shorter than most Curonian women.

She always looks relaxed, as if she does not care if you stay or go. It is a lie—she is desperate—but if you confront her on it, she snaps at you that desperation does not do a thing.

She has kept her cool all these years by faking a confidence she does not have, and perhaps if she is lucky, someday the mask will become her; but right now, once the facade drops, she reveals sharp motion and bitter pride, close to tears.

#### Story Hooks

* Under her father’s influence, Sabat has lived a life of Villainy, by thieving and taking whatever she wanted. Her sudden change of heart against him in his coup has left her conflicted. She intends to kill the leader of a treacherous band of hunters to stop unrest in her city. Can the Heroes convince her to find a less Villainous way to deal with the city’s issues and set her on the path to Heroism?
* Estera’s detractors in Sperus are actively working to remove her from her position. They have no replacement; that kind of plan-ning is too far beyond their current scope of blind hatred. Instead, they have a simple plan to assassinate her one night. Will the Heroes try to save the Villainous Księżna? And if they do, what becomes of Sperus?

## Secret Societies

### The Brotherhood of the Coast

The Ushkuiniks are river pirates, a branch of the Brotherhood of the Coast that primarily operates in Ussura. In Ussura, they famously get along with hostile water creatures. In the Commonwealth, they apparently share this relationship, since only their ships can reliably sail through the Sanderas Forest to deliver food and people to Voruta. The prices they charge are ruinous in Voruta, but the people pay up anyway; after all, what is the alternative?

The rest of the Brotherhood of the Coast operates openly in Stróż Bay but the King pays privateers to keep them off Sarmatian ships. The Sejm does not adore this—why pay pirates to fight pirates?—but thus far no posłowie has proposed an alternative not obviously worse than the current situation.

Many of the privateers who earn coin from the King are members of the Brotherhood them-selves, using the writ they gain from the Sarmatian Commonwealth as a hammer against Vodacce and Crescent ships.

Many of the Brotherhood ships simply ignore the privateers though, offering them additional coin to leave the pirates alone when they have found a Sarmatian ship laden with goods traveling out of the bay.

### Die Kreuzritter

In all the Sarmatian Commonwealth, only one living being claims to be a member of die Kreuzritter. An itinerant who lives in the swamps of Saulės Mūšis, she comes from nowhere and fights with a dracheneisen spear. She calls herself Jadvyga Jasaitytė.

She is probably insane, but where she goes, the resi-dents of Saulės Mūšis fear a little less. She started teaching spear fighting classes to all those in the swamp who want to learn, and after classes she is often trailed by a passel of “ducklings”—orphaned children, disabled people, disrespected elders—the castoffs of society together at sunrise, learning to fight.

### Los Vagabundos

In the Commonwealth, Los Vagabundos and the Slachta have a lot of overlap. Both are controlled by Azucena Esquivel, who tries valiantly to use them for very different purposes. Members of the Slachta, after all, are very public figures; they act as goodwill ambassadors and bodyguards to the prince and king. Los Vagabundos, meanwhile, like to operate from the shadows; they sneak and spy and uphold the good, but silently. Unfortunately, for all Azucena’s attempts to divide their responsibilities, both wholly concern themselves with the safety of the king and his son, so much so that instead of acting as a separate organiza-tion, Los Vagabundos most often acts as the Slachta’s shadow half, doing the dirty deeds that the members of the public-facing Slachta cannot be caught doing.

### The Explorer’s Society

A branch of the Explorer’s Society in Rzeczpospolita operates out of Szablewo and spends most of its time exploring the city’s underground caves. Every Septimus, the Collegium Maius lends it a room, which members then transform into a mini-museum display focusing on one of the cave system’s wonders.

Though the University bans students from exploring the caves on pain of expulsion, a student who explores nonetheless frequently finds herself recruited if she graduates. A Society member in Szablewo is a sought-after guest lecturer and frequently donates copies of his finds to the University Library; in exchange, the Library allows him to copy and request texts as if he were a full-time member of the University staff. Currently trying to equip a Sarmatian expedition to the New World, the Society has begun writing to other branches, asking for tips.

There is another branch of the Explorer’s Society in Curonia operated entirely by vagrants. Its members live in Saulės Mūšis (pronounced: SOWL-yes MOO-shes) and seek to map the territory, to record accounts of unnatural happenings, to sketch and dissect the fruits on the trees. They have basically no money—Odiseo sends them brushes, ink and paper—and produce stunning results labeled in untutored hand. Members have written other branches of the Society asking for supplies, but thus far the results have been slow in coming.

Neither Sarmatian branch of the Society has any idea that the other exists.

#### Favor in the Sarmatian Commonwealth

Heroes who are members of the Explorer’s Society in the Sarmatian Commonwealth may earn Favor in the following ways:

* Creating a map of the crystal caverns under Szablewo is worth 3 Favor. If the map is particularly accurate or uncovers a new chamber, it is worth 4 Favor.
* Bringing necessary supplies to members in Saulės Mūšis is worth 4 Favor.

### The Invisible College

When the Inquisition began cracking down on Castillian intellectuals, the queen set up a shipping lane dedicated to smuggling targets out of Castille. The queen (now de facto merely a powerful Księżna) no longer controls the Commonwealth, but the ship-ping lane remains, smuggling intelligentsia from all over Castille into Szablewo.

The Invisible College, therefore, considers itself in debt to the Księżna—debt doubled by the fact that Małgorzata Domagała has used her own funds to create positions in Szablewo universities for intellec-tuals who have impressed her (as well as many whom she has impressed in turn—as a Drajewicz she hardly lacks education).

Scholars who owe her their lifes and positions include Alvara Arciniega, the inventor of the reflecting telescope (though currently on loan to Ussura), Iratze Eneko, the first to discover the placebo effect, and Annunciacion Valla, a philologist working to disprove the provenance of several writings attributed to the Third Prophet.

#### Favor in the Sarmatian Commonwealth

Heroes who are members of the Invisible College in the Sarmatian Commonwealth may earn Favor in the following way:

* Helping the Invisible College move a persecuted academic from Castile to the Commonwealth earns 5 Favor.

Heroes who are members of the Invisible College in the Sarmatian Commonwealth may spend Favor in the following way:

* Gaining an audience with Queen Małgorzata costs 4 Favor.

### Močiutės Skara

During the War of the Cross, even the warlords loved the Grandmother’s Shawl. Cute little ladies cleaning up the battlefield, baking cookies and darning socks—you could rest easier knowing someone tended to your wounded. Everyone adored and infantilized the “Grandmothers,” which perfectly suited their purposes; when the war stopped, the world did not know why but the Grandmothers laughed behind their hands.

Officially, Močiutės Skara remains headquartered on the Sarmatian-Ussuran border. Unofficially, while they still have offices there, the actual important work is all done in Memel, but since revealing their connection to the radical pacifist creed Anashid (a Memel-based sect of heretical Dīnists) would damage their oh-so-harmless reputation, they do not do that. Currently, they chase the rumor that General Winter plans to invade the Commonwealth—they suspect at least one member of the Old Nobility quietly supports him, but who?

### Knights of the Rose & Cross

The Knights of the Rose & Cross had a long tradi-tion of gifted knights and a select few noble bene-factors within the Commonwealth. When Golden Liberty raised everyone to noble status, people clamored to join them, as many a new-made noble sought to prove his elevation more than just polit-ical convenience.

At first, the Order spent a great deal of time attempting to vet the new recruits, pairing them with seasoned members and testing their skills. But the applicants outnumbered the Knights, and they began turning away anyone without the best training or coin to back them. This means many of the new nobility, though skilled and willing to help, are turned away at the doors.

Now, the Rose & Cross has more Knights than they know what to do with, but few benefactors to really help fund the Society’s actions. The current number one goal for the Knights of the Rose & Cross in Sarmatia is to find benefactors amongst the old nobility.

### FAVOR WITH  OTHER SOCIETIES

The Most Noble and Ancient Order of the Post have garnered a great deal of respect in the Sarmatian Commonwealth, and some of the other Secret Societies in the Nation have started using their services to their own ends. As such, agents of the various Secret Societies can work with the Order of the Post. Here are a few examples of earning or spending Favor with the various other Secret Societies.

Heroes who are members of the Rose & Cross in the Sarmatian Commonwealth may earn Favor in the following ways:

* Delivering a parcel (or a package of letters) for the Post earns 4 Favor.
* Assisting a postal carrier in making a delivery earns 1 to 3 Favor, depending on the signiﬁcance of the assistance.

Heroes who are members of the Invisible College in the Sarmatian Commonwealth may spend Favor in the following ways:

* Having a postal carrier deliver some-where not on her usual route takes anywhere from 1 to 3 Favor, depending on the danger or distance to the location of delivery.
* Getting access to the Post’s maps costs 4 Favor.

### The Rilasciare/Sophia’s Daughters

Domenica Vespucci wrote extensive commentary on Uppman’s journals. Aleksy crafted Golden Liberty inspired partially by her commentary. That alone would be a scandal, were it known publicly; Biały, especially, would be delighted to draw the line between Domenica, Aleksy and the Rilasciare. Given their work with Sophia’s Daughters, it is no surprise the Rilasciare protect the Prince and the Princess Consort: both are Uppman’s Friend and during Marcen Sabat’s coup, the Rilasciare were instrumental in helping bring down the traitor Książę.

### The Most Noble and Ancient Order of the Post

The Knights of the Rose & Cross received an influx of new recruits after the Golden Liberty, but few of the new nobles had money to offer by way of benefactors. They did, however, have horses.

Horses in the Sarmatian Commonwealth are a funny thing. The most popular breeds have long legs and undergo training to take riders through diffi-cult terrain; for their facility navigating marshes in particular, they are nicknamed “swimmers.” All these would-be knights had swimmers, and when a passel of them met in Budorigum they considered delivering long-distance messages. After all, carrying messages under the right circumstances seemed quite Heroic, with all the frozen marshland and narrow mountain passes, but as it was, only the rich could afford riders to carry letters and well, that wasn’t fair, was it?

And thus the Most Noble and Ancient Order of the Post began.

The name started out as a joke; none of those in the original Post had been nobles for more than a month. But the service they offered was not a joke, not when people began to count on them to carry medicines to isolated outposts, seed corn into snowed-out towns, family heirlooms to far flung relations and deeds and wills that people were willing to kill for.

Out of necessity, the Post became cartographers: many of their current routes started out unmapped. They now possess the world’s most detailed maps of the Commonwealth, in itself technology many kill for: they have sent copies to the king and a few others. They used to make woodcuts of the maps, print them by the hundred and sell them on the cheap, but after a copy of the maps let a bandit gang effectively terrorize the Sarmatyzn River for a month, they started keeping their newer maps secret.

They have also started helping coordinate and orga-nize other Knightly Orders, facilitating town-to-town communication to help networks of villages catch brigands, repair bridges, build roads and the like. It helps that nearly every village has a Knightly Order of its own: in Rzeczpospolita, the Sarmatism craze swept the rural areas hardest, and those in Curonia refuse to call them Knightly Orders, but many towns have militias that serve the same purpose.

#### Favor with the Most Noble and Ancient Order of the Post

The Most Noble and Ancient Order of the Post is concerned with reviving chivalry in the Sarmatian Commonwealth. Some do this by performing their duty of letter carrier with the utmost respect for privacy and discretion. Others do this by making a general call to the people to perform knightly service in the Nation. Either way, the ultimate goal is to prove that honor and gentility is alive and strong in the Commonwealth.

Heroes who belong to the Order of the Post may earn Favor in the following ways:

* Delivering an important message in a timely fashion is worth 3 Favor, especially if no one was the wiser of your delivery, other than the sender and recipient.
* Helping a new Knightly Order is worth 4 Favor. This could be to help them organize, solidify their code, secure a place to meet or any other activity that furthers the goal of organization.

Heroes who belong to the Order of the Post may spend Favor in the following ways:

* Requesting aid from a Knight costs 3 Favor. A Knight is typically Strength 5 and possesses the Dueling Academy Advantage in any school of your choosing. If you spend an additional 2 Favor, the Knight you recruit can have an additional Dueling School of your choice.
* Access to a letter or otherwise private missive costs 2 Favor. While normally the honor of the postal carrier involved is of utmost importance, sometimes the information contained in a letter takes precedence. Gaining access to such information may require the Hero to offer to take the letter to its final destination in order to preserve the honor of the original postal carrier.

## Places

### Rzeczpospolita

Neither Rzeczpospolita nor Curonia has yet violently contested the Commonwealth’s unity, since their unification in the mid-1500s. This is remarkable, particularly given that even now, Rzeplitans and Curonians grow up speaking separate languages—though a century ago a wise enough Sejm mandated that nobles, at least, needed to learn both, though few bother to use Curonian. How this will play out now that the Commonwealth’s entire population has been ennobled remains unclear. That said, Commonwealth conventional wisdom has it that Curonians are much more likely to call for the Commonwealth’s dissolution than Rzeplitans are. This is for a few very valid reasons.

First, historically, Dominykas Dega, the Curonian king who put together the Commonwealth, famously favored Rzeczpospolita over Curonia. Not only that, but he was inordinately tactless with his favoritism: for instance, not only did he reorganize Curonia into Księstwa along Rzeplitan lines but he also gave those Curonian Księstwa Rzeplitan names (this is why various Curonian Księstwa have names like “Gancarz”). He also mandated that Rzeplitan be the official language of government, the language of education and the only language spoken in the Sejm.

Dega knew Curonia lacked wealth compared to Rzeczpospolita and believed the Curonians could be pacified with money. Though in a sense true, the ever-pragmatic Curonian nobles, rather than wasting time taking offense, simply took their places in the Sejm and passed a slew of bills appropriating Rzeplitan money and recruiting experts to build infrastructure in Curonia—hospitals, highways, universities, all the things Curonia could not afford as a destitute sovereign nation. Dominykas Dega ended his reign with an empty treasury, its money poured into building up Curonia.

A powerful patriotism has grown up, though, in the wake of Golden Liberty, and perhaps that keeps this tension from turning truly ugly. Though Budorigum has remained stubborn, many Rzeplitans from outside the capital have spoken up in favor of moving or perhaps rotating the Sejm. Followers of Sarmatism, especially, have thrown themselves behind it. What started, some say, as a silly trend has led to some very serious talk about national unity. Several members of the Izba Poselska have even spoken up in favor of all votes being done by mail, with the Post or other Rose & Cross members hired to carry written communications.

Rzeczpospolita boasts the Nation’s capital city, trade borders with Ussura and Vodacce, the Nation’s largest universities and hospitals and the largest stretches of fertile land. Rzeczpospolita also feels the first impacts of war with other Nations, and the Księstwa have larger debts due to this.

#### Szablewo (Księstwo Drajewicz)

Some call Szablewo “The First City”—they say it was built in Numanari times and continued through the Empire’s fall and as the Commonwealth rose up around it. The Numanari ruins, buildings and tombs amidst the city seem to support this. Others call it the “Endless City” or the “Crystal City” for the subterranean crystal caves found below—white limestone and crystal corri-dors run underneath the streets, geodes, hollows and drops for explorers hungry for glory and eager to die.

But most call Szablewo “University City,” the name synonymous with education. Forty-three colleges are located there, with all Senat an alumnus of one of these institutions. The colleges admit members of the sixteen and their families, and, after that, the children of the wealthy. Occasionally colleges offer scholarships, but mostly they do not court the brilliant: as the Domagała are fond of saying, they make the brilliant.

Małgorzata Domagała, Queen Consort and Księżna Drajewicz, controls Szablewo. The vast majority of citizens are her loyalists, and no wonder she made their great city even greater. As Stanisław’s proxy in the Sejm, she pushed through the “University Tithe”—currently, ten percent of all Crown revenue is earmarked for higher education. Before the Sejm enacted the Tithe, the University struggled with debt; now, all the colleges operate in the black. Conveniently, the Księżna’s work with the Invisible College has prompted Castille’s outlaw intelligentsia to immigrate en masse to the city.

#### The University of Szablewo

The Colleges have names, but are referred to as “The University” or “Szablewo University” as a whole. Built of the city’s bright white limestone, in a mix of Numanari and Gothic styles, the Colleges are a sight to behold—especially when you step inside. Six observatories, a to-scale orrery, depicting the six known planets and their positions around the sun, and the largest library in eastern Théah grace the halls.

Because of their dependence on the University Tithe, the Colleges have the most to lose from Golden Liberty; already, the Sejm talks of reallo-cating the Tithe—to the Church, classically, or to the Most Noble and Ancient Order of the Post. Many who dislike Małgorzata resent the Tithe for its associations; they say (and not without some truth) that she forced the bill through the Sejm with no regard for the democracy of even the pre-Golden Liberty posłowie.

Moreover, many deputies, loudmouths in the lower house, have made it clear they view the University as a privileged palisade and wish to tear it to pieces as punishment accordingly—as a result, many Szablewo citizens stand with the queen against those who want to cut the Tithe. A popular opinion in Szablewo has it that the University should at least be restricted to non-criminals who can read, in an effort to keep those loudmouths out of the system.

The citizens of Szablewo most upset about the Sejm’s burgeoning hostility towards the College system are the new immigrant Castillians, who have seen this sort of thing before. Esteban Verdugo and his allies excel at presenting what they do as popu-lism, good at creating mobs when convenient, and masterful at turning popular sentiment against the privileged elite when it suits their purposes.

All the situation needs now is the charge that intellectualism is somehow ungodly, that the elite are anti-Vaticine. Plenty of fuel for that fire starts with Szablewo’s rivalry with Budorigum’s Three Sisters University and ends with rumors that the queen is a losejas. Szablewo has never been a fortress town, but sooner or later, they may have to start defending themselves.

#### The Crystal Caves

No one has mapped the Szablewo caves, not entirely. They change too fast, chambers cracking and collapsing from underground earthquakes that never quite reach the surface, leaving behind their only evidence: ruins for returning spelunkers and new crystal corridors to explore.

The caves are white limestone, smooth to the touch and highly reflective—light from entrance shafts bounces throughout the corridors, giving an illusion of ethereal illumination. The larger caverns contain soda lakes, water bitter to the taste and totally lifeless, save for strange silver fish that live nowhere else.

The underground hides secret churches, dating from the days of Numanari persecution, pre- Vaticine shrines and altars of mystery cults and odd skin-eating sarcophagi with jewel-clad skeletons trapped inside.

Amethysts grow like thistles in the caves, climbing the limestone walls and then descending as purple crystal chandeliers. The caves are deadly and every college forbids students from exploring. Students inevitably spelunk anyway, hoping to see what no one has ever seen before: a river new-revealed by an earthquake or a cavern about to be sealed.

They have even begun trying to leave evidence of their own presence, hoping another spelunker will find it, checking back later to see if it’s missing. In the most stable parts of the caverns, small graffiti markings declare a student’s name or a symbol she has chosen to use to denote herself. Every now and then, a newly unearthed room might hold the mark of someone who came before, the chamber lost and resurfaced through the ever-tumultuous earth’s passing.

Ever pragmatic, the Explorer’s Society provides a rough map of known sites (frequently updated and deliberately unfinished), and the group advises spelunkers not to steal semi-precious stones or jewels from skeletons. New sites are to be reported to the Explorer’s Society immediately; an individual who finds one gets discoverer’s credit and amnesty from the University.

#### The Cloth Hall & Guild Houses

Once upon a time, the University was not the only industry in Szablewo.

The Cloth Hall held tailors, spinners, weavers, wool-combers, scutchers, retters—the list goes on (every-thing but dyers—Szablewo has always bleached its cloth with lime). In the hall, they sold what they made, the finest pieces for the highest prices. In the Guild Houses, a block to the west, workers trained and packed cloth and goods stamped for export. Cloth exported from Szablewo always received a stamp with bright white wax embossed with the Drajewicz twelve-pointed star signifying its excellence—or it did, until a series of disasters happened.

First, the linen manufacturers began experi-menting with fungus-assisted retting. This seemed like a good idea at the time—it meant the retters no longer had to stink up the river—but created linen which, after some wear, was revealed to be of relatively poor quality.

Unwisely, the manufacturers decided to export the fungus-retted linen anyway, perhaps believing Szablewo’s reputation could absorb the hit—and maybe, in another year, it could have.

But that year, clever counterfeiters decided to forge the Szablewo stamp and add it to their low-quality cloth, which they then used to flood the market—the end result, of course, destroyed the reputation of Szablewo’s textiles.

The industry still has not recovered and the Guild Houses are sad shadows of what they used to be—it is a rare apprentice who comes in wanting Szablewo certification anymore. Most of the clothiers who used to live in the area have moved to other cities, and people talk of selling the Cloth Hall itself, ghostly and half-abandoned now, to one of the colleges.

Unsurprisingly, the entire disaster has led to an upswing in town versus gown rivalry, as the remaining clothiers resent the University sitting pretty on the Tithe while the less-prestigious workers of the city suffer. The Colleges’ tendency to respond to this complaint with “you brought this on yourselves” or some variant does nothing to help.

#### Budorigum

Before it became the capital, Budorigum was famous for beds of red clay suited for brick making, which lay not far from the riverbanks. The first brickmakers were Crescent migrants, imported en masse by Książę Cieslewicz in 1333 AV; these migrant workers gave Budorigum’s culture a notably Crescent bent, and today the city’s architecture appears mostly Crescent in design.

Crescent, that is, except for the bricks: in a brick-making town, every building sports brickwork, even the enormous triple-domed mosque in the center of the city. Along with brickwork, the city became known for its brilliant glassworks when a cadre of converts discovered the sand that lined the Sejm could be mixed with small amounts of clay to produce a multitude of stained glass hues. Even to this day, most windows in the city contain stained glass of some sort—a point of pride for Budorigum’s residents.

In 1442 AV, Budorigum became the capital; the Sejm was built in six weeks. Townhouses for traveling nobles were built on the blocks around the Sejm, and the demand for clean water quickly led to aqueducts and drainage canals. The migrants had collected water in great brick cisterns and dumped their waste directly into the Sejm. Noble families flaunted their wealth by building parks, public squares and elaborate brickwork fountains; a cadre of aristocrats fond of horse-racing even went so far as to build a racetrack next to the Sejm which could seat 100,000 people. This was rather over-ambitious; to this day, the stadium has never been filled.

A second migration into the city began directly post-Golden Liberty, with scads of “New Nobles” eager to live near the Sejm. Predictably, this has driven Budorigum’s real estate prices through the roof and the Sejm currently debates what, if anything, should be done about that.

#### The Sejm

The original Sejm was ugly; a great brick building slopped together as a sort of irregular rectangle. Various improvements have done nothing for the overall aesthetic, with the possible exception of one: in 1593 AV, seven parallel corridors were built to attach the Sejm to the stadium.

Originally, this allowed the ruling sixteen to make public announcements efficiently. However, when Golden Liberty began, the corridors gained new purpose: namely, the stadium (which by this point had failed as a business) was declared the meeting place of the Izba Poselska, the “house of deputies” or “the lower house,” where the New Nobility vote.

The Senat still maintains the power to decide the timing of votes, though the Izba Poselska has put some limitations on this. First, the Senat and the Izba Poselska must vote simultaneously, which is meant to prevent the Senat from scheduling the Izba Poselska’s vote at times when people could not—or would not—make it, such as public holidays. Second, a member of the Senat must announce, on the stadium floor, when they schedule a vote to happen, with at least four hours’ notice.

This, in theory, allows at least the Budorigum-based members of the Izba Poselska ample time to arrive at the Sejm. After the Senat announced two votes at midnight to an empty stadium, the Izba Poselska began posting a 24-hour watch in the stands, volun-teers charged with raising a cry should the upper house announce more votes that are inconvenient.

Given that the Commonwealth has more than 100,000 citizens, it is possible that one day the stadium might fill beyond capacity. In that case, the Izba Poselska has set up a protocol for the creation of polling stations and has passed a bill disallowing the Senat to end voting until 12 hours after calling the vote. The stadium has never overfilled yet, but the Izba Poselska likes being prepared.

#### Duelist’s Square

Duelist’s Square is exactly what it sounds like: a public square surrounded by swordfighting schools. Ennio Vespucci, the Princess Consort’s brother, initiated the setup of the square, representing all well-known styles of sword fighting (though Ennio gave Ambrogia, his favored style, the best of the bordering buildings). The circular mosaic at the center of the square displays two duelists clashing; the circle itself is the perfect size for exhibition matches, and every Sunday afternoon at least one school puts on a show.

The swordmasters are imported, promised prestige and subsidized by Ennio. In the capital, the phrase “getting Ennio’s attention” has become synonymous

with “being a brilliant duelist.” As such, a swordmaster not so lucky as to have a school in Duelist’s Square competes to set up classes nearby; she hopes that she or her students may catch Ennio’s eye.

Also holding court in Duelist’s Square is an office belonging to the Duelist’s Guild; member-ship in the Duelist’s Guild, after all, separates real sword fighters from brigands. The rise of dueling culture in the Commonwealth, however, has its obvious downsides.

Largely sedate about matters of “honor” pre-Golden Liberty, Commonwealth citizens now recast honor as a point of personal pride worth spilling blood over, especially among the youth. Where duels used to be over serious matters, long-held disputes or even personal insults, people duel each other over the most trivial matters. The Duelist’s Guild attempts to put an end to this trend, but so far, none of its well-meaning pamphlets written to discourage frivolous duels had much in the way of an impact.

#### Pocket Parks

The nobles who came to Budorigum when it became the capital carved out public squares and parkland. Even before the city had a substantial upper class, people made attempts to beautify it. In particular, the Crescent migrants planted rooftop gardens, lush facades and mini-jungles with tall grass, small trees, ornamental shrubberies and beautiful vines that cascaded either onto the next roof or down the home’s brick siding.

The brick town of Budorigum has a surprising element of wildness. Vines shade cool streets and unexpected trees grow in unused alleys. The nobles who moved into the city took the aesthetic and expanded on it. Old clay beds, sheer-edged and hollows were flooded to make deep impromptu lakes and swimming holes surrounded by trees and ferns, knit together by old quarry tunnels and bordered by the houses of those who wished to live nearby. They called these lush water and vegetation spots within the otherwise bricked city, “pocket parks.”

Now new arrivals challenge Budorigum’s pocket park aesthetic by not knowing how to treat the parks with respect. City-organized cleanup crews can mostly deal with litter, but vandals pulling up plants to spell out political messages is another mess entirely, never mind the hordes of Izba Poselska, so determined to vote that they camp in the parks and willingly sleep homeless.

Within the city, a heated debate rages as to whether the parks should be fenced off or guarded. On the one hand, that might curb the damage, but on the other hand, perhaps a fence misses the point of a park. As for waking up unwelcome sleepers—well, what good Budorigum citizen has not napped in a park from time to time?

Making matters even more complicated, a cadre of real estate developers have begun pressuring the Sejm to let them pay the government for parkland. Pocket parks are nice and all, but with so many new arrivals desperate for housing, letting developers build over the parkland might ease some of the strain on the market, even as it also enriches developers.

#### The Three Sisters

The city of Szablewo has 43 colleges; classically, the upper class is educated there, in sedate winter gardens and amongst dreaming spires. But for those who lack the wealth or pedigree to be allowed into “the White City,” they rely on the Three Sisters—Budorigum’s universities.

Szablewo has long had reason to consider the Three Sisters second-rate. A Szablewo education is relatively secular; the University, packed with Vaticine, Yachidi, Dīnists and followers of old faiths, tries to encourage a cool neutrality amongst the faithful. In 1446 AV, a Vaticine priest and would-be professor, Alicja Lis, took exception to this, pulled up her roots, moved to Budorigum and founded the Three Sisters—a trio of colleges (nicknamed Jadwiga, Bona and Wanda) built specifically as Vaticine educational institutions. The sophisticates in Szablewo derided this as backwards, but the colleges succeeded—two centuries later, they still graduate students.

Stereotypically, a Three Sisters student falls into one of two categories—either she is devout and wants a cloistered education or her family is neither well-bred nor wealthy. Post-Golden Liberty, partisan politics have added a third archetype to the mix: the red-clad Czerwony not sufficiently subtle about his politics, either expelled from a Szablewo school or bullied until he transferred.

In fact, the fight between Biały and Czerwony is, for the Sisters, the gift that keeps on giving. A presti-gious professor, upon finding himself unwelcome in Szablewo’s halls, often seeks a position in Budorigum, and the Sisters are always happy to hire. If this partisan infighting keeps on going, and the Szablewo Colleges keep pushing people out, the Three Sisters will soon rival Szablewo’s finest.

Lottan Mosque & Stanisław’s Cathedral The triple-domed Lottan Mosque is a glazed, intri-cate brickwork, a multi-colored masterpiece where each brick is varnished a different hue and light leaks in through stained-glass squares, stacked like bricks, that serve as windows. It is a tour de force of Crescent and Commonwealth architecture made only more impressive by the fact that it was built mostly by impoverished migrants who spent their daylight hours making bricks.

Sometimes called “the Night Mosque,” the stories say the migrants built it all at night. The Mosque’s current Imam, Rabia Saliah, is the country’s most prestigious Dīnist leader and when she first met Stanisław, she gave him the deed for the ground adjacent and told him to build a Cathedral.

Budorigum has plenty of churches, of course. On side streets, they are nearly as common as mosques. Budorigum even has two basilicas; Three Sisters’ gradu-ates made sure of that. But Budorigum’s last Cathedral saw its steeple blow off in a storm. The tower collapsed a mere month before Stanisław stopped using his wife as his proxy. Since then there has been no Cathedral. Budorigum’s Cardinal lives in a Church.

Adjacent to the Lottan Mosque, Stanisław’s Cathedral stands half-built. The Archbishop, Andrzej Radziwiłł, gives sermons there on sunny days and sometimes on rainy ones, saying that Theus’ house is ever under construction, so who is he to scorn unfin-ished ceilings? He and the Imam have struck up a friendship, to the amusement of the capital.

Finishing the Cathedral has been on the list of budgetary votes for the Sejm for the past few months, but it has been exceedingly difficult to get the Senat to approve the budget, since the Izba Poselska did so in record time.

### Curonia

More than a century after unification, Curonia remains the poorer part of the Commonwealth. Rzeczpospolita has dozens of universities, multiple lucrative industries and enormous cities; Curonia still consists of almost all marsh farms and tiny villages haunted by dievai. Rzeczpospolita’s population also numbers twice that of Curonia’s, but until eighteen months ago this hardly mattered: in the Sejm, where the Commonwealth passed laws, a Curonian noble strategically wielding the liberum veto possessed just as much power as a Rzeplitan one. Now that is no longer true. In the Izba Poselska at least, the majority always rules, and almost always, the majority is Rzeplitan.

This is enough to make many Curonians upset. Ugnė Urbonė, a Curonian Senat member, has proposed moving the capital to Curonia. This would solve at least a portion of the problem: a Curonian deputy would no longer have to make the long voyage to Budorigum every time she wished to vote, while for a Rzeplitan, voting would come with a higher cost. Unsurprisingly, the voters of Budorigum refuse to support this plan, and since they include the Sejm’s most active voters—by virtue of where they live, at least in part—that has become a bit of a sticking point. While Curonia may be poorer than Rzeczpospolita and marginalized in the government, the people there have a stronger sense of unity than those of their sister nation-state. Most of this stems from the struggle to maintain cultural identity following the unification with Rzeczpospolita. The Curonian language fell into disuse, their religion overrun by the Vaticine faith and cultural norms discarded in favor of the more popular Rzeplitan ones. While these changes affected Curonians, the people also resisted such changes. In Curonia, a Curonian speaks her native language, burns offerings to her gods and follows her ancient traditions, and all her neighbors do the same, supporting her decision to not let Rzeplitan popu-larity crush the old ways.

Moreover, though stylistic Sarmatism has not much penetrated Curonia itself, many Curonians nonethe-less strongly feel the need for a National unity, even  one that comes at the cost of haggling with privileged, ridiculous Rzeplitans. There are a couple reasons for this. First and most pragmatically, with General Winter at the border, many Curonians worry that the country faces invasion. Quibbling, even over things like capitals, seems rather pointless in that context.

Second, the Biały and Czerwony quarrel currently dominates the public consciousness. Though Curonian Biały and Czerwony exist, the vast majority of Curonians are not enamored of either side: Aleksy is an idealistic pacifist, oblivious to the threat of inva-sion and too suspicious of Sanderis, while Małgorzata is a domineering snobby intellectual who wants to limit the franchise and cares only for Szablewo. Standing outside the political frenzy and exasperated by both Biały and Czerwony, many Curonians have decided (somewhat influenced by stereotypes), as the responsible, sober down-to-earth people, to calm the passionate Rzeplitans before the Biały and Czerwony conflict actually gets dangerous. Hence the rise of the Jasny (or “clear”), a faction of mostly Curonians who make it their unofficial duty to help Biały and Czerwony hammer out compromises and de-escalate whatever quarrels they find.

It is also an open secret that many Curonians hope the split between Rzeplitan Biały and Czerwony allows for the election of a Curonian monarch, most likely Ugnė Urbonė. Even many Rzeplitans hope that if Ugnė wins the election, the Biały and Czerwony struggle will fizzle. That said, many Commonwealth citizens, Curonian and Rzeplitan both, also fear that if the loudly pro-Curonian Ugnė is elected queen, Curonian and Rzeplitan tensions might then come to the fore.

#### Saulės Mūšis (Księstwo Czyż)

This ancient city is the oldest in Curonia and stands as a testament to the power of the dievai and the folly of those who try to work against them.

#### The Fall

Saulės Mūšis was the Curonian capital until 1262 AV. It fell under the reign of Petras V. Petras made a series of Deals with a dievas (pronounced: DEE-ah-VAS, plural dievai: DEE-ah-VI) he adored (now called Saulė since people telling the story retroactively name her after the city). Saulė, of course, was very powerful, and so Petras’s rule went unquestioned.

Though Petras started out wise, as he stayed with her and grew more deluded, until one summer equinox, at the height of his arrogance, he declared he wished to make the Seventh Deal with her, bring her into the world and make her his wife. When noon came that day, Saulė was nowhere to be found. Instead, at the moment when the sun reached its zenith, the city burned to the ground.

No one knows what really happened, but neither Petras nor his dievas were seen again.

The days after the fall of Saulės Mūšis were known as the days of the Fallen Inquisition. After the city fell to the flames, the Curonian Vaticine Church vowed to put a stop to all Sanderis Sorcery—a disaster of that scale could not be allowed to happen again.

In response, many of the country’s losejai came together to form the Ratas—a network of alliances and partnerships with a twofold purpose: to keep the losejai safe from all the organizations who would end them and to keep the rest of the world safe from the losejai.

#### Saulės Mūšis Today

Saulės Mūšis burned, but the stone survived. Now it is a skeleton city, all archways, doorways, altars and streets, overgrown with trees that split the sidewalks and grow strange fruits out of season.

The fruit in Saulės Mūšis is what scares people. The trees, bushes, shoots, vines and plants bloom and bear all year, even when frost covers the ground. In Saulės Mūšis, if you eat what grows in the ruins, you will always be sated, but what unnatural fruit ripens even in Decimus? Ambrose Davidson, the traveling Avalonian scholar, nicknamed the stuff “færie fruit,” and the name stuck.

People say it is planted by dievai. It is the best fruit you have ever eaten, too: ripe unpecked cherries, melons, raspberries. But once you consume it, you always want more—the people who come to Saulės Mūšis to stave off starvation almost always stay in the ruined city the rest of their days.

Given that the fruits’ effects are public knowledge, most cautious and privileged people avoid Saulės Mūšis. But the place has become a magnet for vagrants, the starving, the destitute and those willing to eat strange fruit for the guarantee of life free from hunger. Others may shudder or sneer, but to that a citizen says, “Would you have fed us?” In the city, she may be a plaything of dievai, but at least she is not desperate or starving.

And indeed, a sort of patriotism grows around Saulės Mūšis these days. A citizen calls himself an apple-eater; some write pamphlets advertising the old city’s wonders, not entirely satirically. Others have formed a branch of the Explorer’s Society dedicated to mapping the ruined city. They have begun sending sketches to Odiseo and have been recognized officially.

An apple-eater takes pride in the fact that his city is a place of sanctuary. Criminals who make it to Saulės Mūšis and eat the fruits of the city do not get taken in by law enforcement because, really, why would they?

The Książę Czyż, who technically controls the city’s Księstwo, does not want to touch it, and law enforce-ment rarely sends an agent in lest she decide to stay. Plus, conventional wisdom goes, what dangers does a criminal pose to all but the people of Saulės Mūšis once he has eaten færie fruit? He almost certainly stays in the city and the people of Saulės Mūšis can take care of their own.

Still, strange things happen in the city—more now than before. Sometimes residents simply vanish—there one day and gone the next. Sometimes a new person appears, or an old one reappears, changed. She has no memory of her alteration, though she has claws now or cannot feel the cold. And when fog covers Saulės Mūšis, citizens sometimes hear screams—always too distant for cause to be visible but not distant enough, just the same.

Pallet Houses & the Great Stone Cathedral Housing in Saulės Mūšis is a problem; all the old wood burned and nobody wants to cut down the fruit trees. Sperus has started shipping old pallets, broken or rot-patched, to Saulės Mūšis for the price of whatever nonliving treasures the denizens of the city can stand to send down the river. The dead timber has been a godsend and Saulės Mūšis citizens use it to construct houses.

Before building with pallets, much of Saulės Mūšis spent the winter sleeping in the Great Stone Cathedral, the city’s only large building made wholly of stone. Even with the pallets, a large Saulės Mūšis contingent—called, unimaginatively, Traditionalists—still sleep in the Cathedral come winter.

According to them, it lets citizens catch up with each other and build community. Sleeping between pews, the lack of privacy may become wearing, but that is what summer is for. A person who prefers pallet houses values privacy and chooses his company more highly. He also admits he finds the Cathedral scary, given its history.

Originally built by Vaticines, during his reign, Petras V converted it into a place of worship for Saulė, Petras’ dievas. Considering she burned down the city, this makes people understandably wary—and besides that, the bloodstained altars are creepy.

A person staying in the Cathedral may have the right of it though; she is far less likely to disappear during the winter than those in the pallet-houses. Those who value privacy (and in a homeless city, there are many) live dangerously—all who vanish do so alone or in pairs.

#### The Sanderas Forest

Old tales of the Sanderas almost always involve adventurers wandering the forest, searching for dievai to strike bargains with. The dievai notoriously like to play hard to get. They hide in bone houses and set would-be losejai impossible tasks, like pulling a spill of poppy seeds out of the soil before sunrise. Old tales of the Sanderas do not lie: even today, wandering the woods is the surest way to find a dievas willing to bargain.

There is only one settlement near the Sanderas, Voruta, a city built on the lightning-struck plain in the forest’s heart. The Księżna of Voruta is and always has been a dedicated Ratas member: the Ratas controls Voruta and therefore controls easy entrance to the Sanderas. Those who seek to use the woods to make deals with dievai must first pass through the Ratas, and the Ratas knows that not everyone who wishes to deal with demons deserves to.

But the Sanderas does not just exist for people to meet dievai. Non-losejai and those who have already bargained with dievai also wander into the woods. The only thing dievai like doing better than tormenting humans is tormenting other dievai, and those in the woods eagerly sabotage those who have already latched onto a human. More than one losejas has learned a new Deal, or a piece of a Name, by pleasing a Sanderas dievas.

The Ratas calls venturing into the Sanderas Katabasis. A dedicated Ratas member tries to venture into the Sanderas at least once every seven years, to glean more information about her dievas.

#### The Fires of Gabija

Two roads go into the Sanderas, one from Złotogóra, one from Sperus. Those roads, built by the Ratas in the thirteenth century, used magical rituals now lost, and except for those two roads, the Sanderas is unmapped. Paths appear and peter out, bone houses change places and any losejas unwise enough to put his trust in a compass needle swiftly ends up circling back on his own footprints. The only beacons worth seeking are the Fires of Gabija, ever-burning pyres that appear frequently but irregularly in the forest.

The dievai say Gabija the Red, a powerful dievas who killed her losejas after making the Seventh Deal, created the fires. General Ratas policy is to kill on sight any dievas who manifests bodily, so they say Gabija is no dievas at all—the dievai who insist so must be lying.

Someone who distrusts the Ratas distrusts this statement in particular: he says the Ratas left Gabija alive purely for pragmatism’s sake. Her pyres make the Sanderas traversable and she never appears outside the forest. She walks the woods as a woman in a red dress, and she is scrupulously fair—even generous—with her pyres, so long as those who use them play by her rules.

Anyone who ventures into the Sanderas with the blessing of the Ratas memorizes the protocols for the pyres before she goes. Fires should be banked only with their own ashes and extinguished with clean stream water—gory stories circulate about losejai who tried to stamp the flames. Salt thrown into the fire pleases Gabija and nothing tempts her wrath like bloodshed in the firelight. Those who fight near the flames more often than not suffer immolation. The flames’ protection is for everyone. Enemy losejai may—and often must—share the same fire when night falls in the Sanderas. Wild animals stay away from the flames and so too other dievai.

It is not uncommon for groups of losejai to accumu-late around the pyres come nightfall, with Sanderis practitioners from all over Curonia exchanging stories and sleeping by the flames.

#### Voruta (Księstwo Janusz)

The middle of the Sanderas forest is a place where no trees grow, a lightning-struck plain and a surface vein of bituminous marble with sprays of scarlet and snow-white coral.

This is where Voruta stands. The Ratas built Voruta to assist with Katabasis. In the middle of the forest, it provides a safe house, a haven. Much too large for its current purpose, from 1266 AV until the Commonwealth’s formation, it served as Curonia’s capital as well, declared so by a Grand Książę who wanted to encourage the nobles to destroy dievai.

Today, large portions of the city stand empty, basil-icas and ballrooms, baroque and splendid, waiting for nobles who will not return ’til the Commonwealth falls. But the city still stands. It is an eerie city.

Somehow, so close to the sun-dappled forest, the daylight in Voruta never looks right. Always bluish-white on the black-red-white marble, the light never looks warm. The only warmth comes from lamps kindled at night. And how does it always look that way, so overcast, with the forest always sunny?

The city stands for the sake of Katabasis, and at any one time about a seventh of the people staying in the city are losejai or potential losejai trying to gin up the nerve to enter the Sanderas. Much of the rest of the city exists as industry to serve these losejai, to boost their morale. So despite the unnerving sunlight, the city is beautiful and businesses and monuments exist to encourage serenity, some in stranger ways than others.

Famously, losejai visit the black marble dome, set with lanterns to look like stars, where sound is muffled and those who enter lie on mats. Music plays, and those that lie can watch the false stars move their paths, slowly, an eternal, predictable, warm, calm night.

#### Poetry Houses

Less respectably, though no less strange, poetry brothels peddle intimacy on curtained beds in rose-lit chambers, less often sex than services more serene. A person pays for someone to give him warm milk and tuck him into bed, or to have someone read his favorite poetry out loud or simply spends silver on massages and mulled wine. He pays for anything to calm his nerves, as it never does well to enter the Sanderas agitated.

Others prefer the museum that stores the heads of those dievai killed when they appeared bodily; vicar-iously recalling triumphs always comforts. And then lastly, a scholar can head over to the Scholomance, hoping for a bit of Sanderis research to give her an edge.

#### The Scholomance

The Scholomance is Théah’s foremost school of Sanderis—not that there is much competition. Head down to its basement (and down, and down—built into what was once the black marble quarry) and you hit a labyrinth, a seeming-infinite library of hand-bound codices and a card catalog containing various descriptors. This is where a person looks up his demon.

#### KATABASIS STORIES

The promise of a better understanding of life and self-discovery is often enough to draw someone into the forest. Those who go likely get something out of the experience, even if it only leads to a better understanding of her own lot in life. Such a venture is a lonely one, as the trek often involves danger.

A Hero with Sanderis may inevitably want to embark on Katabasis as a Story. Just like any other Story, the player should determine the goal of her Hero’s Katabasis. This could be as difficult as “Learn a way to destroy my dievas” or as simple as “Gain a better understanding of my powers.” In general, the reward for this kind of Story should be purchasing a new level of the Sorcery Advantage.

You can run these Stories as solo mini- sessions for the losejas Hero if the others are not interested in participating.

A losejas in the Scholomance looks for a sketch of her dievas or a matching description in files that losejai through the ages have added to with accounts of their Katabasis and descriptions of Deals. Ratas members, cross-collating descriptions, have managed to name, manifest and destroy nearly a hundred dievai, though how many more remain uncounted is unknown.

The Scholomance, of course, is not only a library—it is also a school. Though few in Szablewo deign to consider a Curonian College their equal, it probably is. While Szablewo’s courses tend towards the theoretical, though, the Scholomance’s classes teach the intensely practical. Rhetoric, for instance, is taught as a series of debates, definitely allowing dirty fighting through bad discourse. The College assumes a Scholomance student intends to be a losejas, and there is no use coddling him or letting him keep his hands clean. When a pious type denounces the Scholomance as a school of dark magic, this might be what she means.

#### Katabasis

Some losejai believe that deep in the Sanderas Forest lies a secret, a way to destroy her dievas without killing herself or making a Seventh Deal to do it. The Ratas does not condone the idea, promoting schol-arship and understanding over superstition. That does not stop a regular pilgrimage into the Sanderas, called Katabasis.

The story goes that once every seven years, a dievas who is bound to a person becomes weakened. Something about the bond to the mortal world makes them vulnerable. If the losejas can find the dievas’ origin in the Sanderas Forest, she can kill it.

Few know where the origins for the legend come from. No one knows anyone who has actually destroyed a dievas this way, but the stories persist. A steady stream of losejai wanders through Voruta hoping to go on Katabasis, or speaking of it. The few who gather enough nerve to go out into the forest come back changed in some way.

Many view the act itself as a form of self-discovery and life affirmation. Those who embark on one Katabasis take up the pilgrimage once every seven years, believing without fail that destroying her dievas this way is absolutely possible.

#### The Weeping Walls

No one knows why those who return from Katabasis always come back at sunrise, but look at the top of Voruta’s northern facing walls and you would think the city suffers a siege every dawn. After all, many a time, it is not just the losejai who go to Voruta—family and friends wait while the losejas wanders the woods.

Their friends, family and even other losejai mount the walls before the sun rises, and hold a silent vigil until well past noon. They wait on the wall for seven days, and in those seven days, nine-tenths of the losejai return. That other tenth are usually just gone, but cruelly, not so often that their relatives and friends can abandon hope.

Stories tell of a losejas returning from the woods three, five, even seven years later, and sometimes even sane when she does. Sometimes when a losejas leaves for more than seven days, family, friends or lovers enter the woods to fetch her. This occasionally works, but not so often that the Ratas encourages it.

#### The Remainders

The permanent citizens of Voruta call themselves the Remainders. In some ways, it is self-deprecating. Their city runs on a service economy, and most of them make their money serving losejai. Therefore, they are the remainders; those left when all the questers and Heroes leave.

Those who see only the wry self-deprecation miss the other meaning—namely, what it means to remain. A Remainder knows he lives in the middle of the Commonwealth’s most dangerous location, and when the questing losejai leave, he stays. Many are not wealthy.

Indeed, Voruta, with all its galleries and palaces sitting empty, is a popular spot for destitute urban-ites looking to avoid paying proprietors. The current Księżna Janusz, Ugnė Urbonė, has begun experi-menting with giving longtime squatters deeds to these properties on the condition that they repair and beautify them.

The Remainders live inside a city surrounded by a forest full of dievai, and when asked what could kill Voruta the answer is always the same: a famine. Nothing grows on the lightning-struck plain, so Voruta completely depends on food shipped in from the outside: pickled beets from Złotogóra, cranberries from Sperus, smoked fish and beer brought in on the Wyrzk by the Ushkuiniks. When an ice storm briefly stopped Złotogóra from sending food up, prices rose so fast the city went into a panic.

The city’s current voivode’s “governor” primary priority is making sure that never happens again. She has been spending money out of the city’s coffers, buying food that does not spoil: white rice, dried peas, salt, liquor, vinegar.

The Remainders have been following suit and many add their own twists. They make Budorigum-style rooftop gardens, cultivating fish in flooded quarries, raising chickens on kitchen scraps, growing mush-rooms in cellars, even keeping bees overlooking the forest—thus far Sanderas pollen has shown no ill effects.

#### Złotogóra (Księstwo Szczupak)

The Sarmatian Commonwealth borders Ussura, so of course there are Ussuran immigrants. Most embrace Sarmatian culture, though not all wish to assimilate completely. Hence the creation of Złotogóra, often called “Little Ussura,” a city of bathhouses, with onion domes and matryoshka dolls that mostly lives up to its name. Like most cities built on nostalgia, it is a bit of a parody. The chay (tea) is spicier and the archi-tecture more elaborate than it ever really was in the old country. But that only makes it more delightful. Residents, tourists, even scholars looking to study well-preserved traditions of Ussuran craftwork and cooking come to embrace the experience.

Of course, that does not mean some things do not come off differently than the immigrants intended.

#### Hot Springs

Złotogóra hosts a glorious set of hot springs and as such, bathhouses are abundant. In Ussura, bathhouse culture lacks modesty but is rarely sexual. The same is not the case in the Commonwealth. Here, nakedness brings to mind associations recent immigrants do not always expect. This created a subgenre of erotic bathhouses, steamy, dimly lit and appropriate for sex. Jennys make a fine living, as do discreet herbalists.

Non-erotic Ussuran bathhouses also exist in the city, of course. Less of a tourist draw, they tend to be painted turquoise while erotic bathhouses are painted red—outdoor hot springs are considered turquoise by default. Locals who like to sneer at tourists make lots of japes about erotic bathhouses, but it is not uncommon for those same locals to try out the red-painted places every once in a while.

#### The Mirrored Plaza

The plaza at the center of town is paved in mirrored mosaic tiles, courtesy of an eccentric Księżna who loved the look of her face, even in miniature. Torches dot the square at night, reflecting light for a perpetual twilight; in the dark, the mosaic looks like water, and flâneurs float on the surface.

Moving to the Sarmatian Commonwealth, many immigrants miss the easy hospitality of Ussura. Houses dark and closed at night and food only had for coin—that is not the Ussuran way, so it is not done in Złotogóra either. Hence, in the Mirrored Plaza, Złotogórans set up the trencher table, a table of fruits, meats and cheeses that anyone can eat at any time. Złotogóra residents are expected to donate to the trencher table, and every year they choose a “chef ” to make sure the trencher table’s contents stay fresh.

The Mirrored Plaza also hosts Bartok, Złotogóra’s unofficial mascot, a tame bear. Brought by an immi-grant a century ago, Bartok never seems to age or die. He eats from the trencher table, sleeps in the square and occasionally takes a liking or disliking to tourists, who then receive appropriate amounts of respect or derision. Residents suspect he is a Leshy and take it as lucky he bound himself to the city.

In past winters, the plaza and the roads that lead off it have frozen over; rather than fight it, the citizens each Decimus don skates and navigate their mirror-bright highways with practiced grace.

In this season, the divide between locals and tour-ists is especially broad. The devastating ice storm two winters ago prompted debate as to whether citizens should begin preemptively sanding the roads. Last year, tradition prevailed until Primus, when vigi-lantes with buckets began sanding roads at midnight, sending skaters spinning the next morning.

#### The Ice Storm & Leadership Crisis

Twenty months ago a terrible ice storm tore through Złotogóra. Many died, including the Księżna Szczupak and her only daughter. The Księżna’s nearest heir now is her distant niece, but nobody knows where she is. Instead, since the storm, an informal council of rich city dwellers have taken up administration.

Citizen consensus holds that this arrangement should not last forever, but currently no one can agree on what constellation should replace them. Should they try to find the Księżna’s niece, last seen in Eisen? Should they choose another noble to govern the Księstwo? Or should they do away with nobles altogether and try administering via some kind of elected body?

Complicating that dispute, the feared Ussuran General Winter currently has cast his eye toward the Sarmatian border. His forces have been there for nearly two years now and Ussurans say he can control winter weather. Złotogóran conspiracy theorists now hold he caused the ice storm.

#### Memel (Księstwo Gancarz)

In 803 AV, the self-proclaimed Prophet Irshad bint Jamila began preaching her creed—a creed she called Anashid, “songs” in the Crescent language—in Iskandar. In 813 AV, she died, many say killed by the Crescent Empire. At that time, the Empire violently expelled her followers and most fled across the Curonian border. There, amidst the marshlands, they built Memel, a city made in mourning—in Curonian, Memel means “mute.”

But what was it about Anashid that made it so hated by the Empire?

First, Anashid holds that the individual is morally responsible for preventing as much death in the world as possible. In particular, Anashid favors active responsibility over innocence. Refusing to serve in an army may be righteous, but serving in an army and sabotaging it is more righteous still.

This makes followers of Anashid gadflies, unwilling to simply appease their consciences passively. An Anashid who sees beggars starving in terrible poverty might, for example, donate all her money, then, driven by her own sense of active responsibility, steal from other wealthy people—or worse, worm herself into power and then legally force the rich to donate.

Anashid, then, is anathema to any status quo. The rulers of the Crescent Empire were displeased by it, and more so when they realized Irshad claimed not to be merely an Imam but a Prophet—someone with a direct link to the divine. That meant she had to be deified or falsified; she could not be dismissed.

She could, however, be destroyed—and the Empire’s leaders were quite happy when she died.

When Curonia took the Anashid in, they did it on two conditions. First, that the Anashid serve as Curonia’s first line of defense against the Crescent Empire, and second, that the Anashid (including native Curonians who converted to the faith) be lawfully required take on distinctive surnames so as to identify them.

The first promise, the Anashid keep and take very seriously. Many Anashid still nurse a grudge against the Crescent Empire and their schemes have thus far stopped three would-be invasions. The second—well, a lot of Anashid still use the surname “al-Memeli,” but many more do not. The surname bears stigma, as many non-Anashid dislike the thought of appointing those who believe in “active responsibility” to politi-cally sensitive positions.

The Anashid dogma, and their Prophet’s own willingness to engage in subterfuge in service of this dogma, makes Anashid a natural fit for many secret societies. Anashid claim to have co-founded the Močiutės Skara and Anashid faithful may addition-ally be found in the Rilasciare, the Rose & Cross, the Invisible College and Los Vagabundos.

#### The Honeypot

Memel is a Crescent city in miniature, down to the narrow streets shaded from the sun and the market-places selling silk and spices only open at sunset and dawn. That is no accident: the city makes a tidy sum from tourism as travelers come to experience Crescent culture (or an approximation, anyway) without risking their lives or learning another language.

Many Crescent customs are butchered for the sake of Sarmatian sensibilities. Foods are not as authentic as you might find in Crescent cities, and the buildings have distinctly Curonian influence. But, to the casual tourist, this is the next best thing to visiting the Crescent Empire, and it is certainly a less dangerous trip.

But as well as a honeypot for tourists, the city also functions as a honeypot for invaders.

The Anashid take their promise to protect Curonia from Crescent invasion very seriously. In that vein, Memel’s Anashid pay off unscrupulous archivists in the Crescent Empire to forge records saying that in previous invasions, the city of Memel has always been easy to take. It helps that the Ansheed keep in close contact with their families in the Crescent Empire, giving them an easy in.

Thus far, it has worked: since the ninth century, every time the Crescent Empire tried to invade the Commonwealth by land, it started by taking Memel, and every time the Empire has tried to invade the Commonwealth by sea, it started by taking Memel’s port. Every time a Crescent army tries to take Memel, the citizens of Memel put up a token resistance and open the gates. Inevitably, the real nightmare for the Crescent army lies inside.

Memel is a walled city. Invaders enter through the front gates into a maze of mud-brick and mosaic tiles, dazzling camouflage designed to distract the eye. Residents know of numerous secret passages that tunnel under the walls, but to an outsider, he sees only one exit, same as the entrance. It can be blocked, and the city remade into a trap.

The Prophet Irshad urged her followers to find alternatives to murder. The Anashid listened, and today Memel houses the largest community of Castillian-trained Boticarios living outside Castille. When turning back invasions, Anashid are locally known for their use of nonlethal but nonetheless dangerous elixirs. Crescent armies sent to the Commonwealth have returned deaf and dumb or plagued with hallucinations.

#### Sperus (Księstwo Kazimierz)

Sperus is all dikes now, sandbanks covered in cran-berries separated by shallow waterways. In the fall it floods, the berries wet-harvested and floodwater kept through the winter where it freezes to protect the vines. Come spring, the ice melts, the water drains and the cranberries grow again.

It was not always this way. Sperus used to be a little swamp town, the haunt of houseboat-dwelling hunters and trappers. But Marcen Sabat, the Książę who owned the land, was an ambitious man determined to monetize the swamps. He had his soldiers plant cranberries in Sperus, then set about creating Commonwealth demand. They took the New World import and marketed it as an exotic delicacy. Sabat then showed it off at salons in sauces and preserves. Nearly overnight, Sperus became a boomtown, drawing in farmers from all across the Księstwo.

Funny thing, boomtowns: everyone may be rich, but they are rarely happy.

The hunters resent the tree-cutting farmers, and the farmers resent hunters who trample the crops. Brawls are common, especially in the bars and brothels that line the outskirts of the city. At night, sneaky farmers sink houseboats and hunters set farmhouses aflame.

The city cannot survive like this: if a peace is not reached soon, Sperus will fall. And while the ruling Księżna tries to keep order, her presence only fans the flames.

#### The Sabat Family

When Marcen Sabat ruled as Książę, he used martial law to keep the peace. Curfew came at sunset and soldiers patrolled in boats throughout the evening. His daughter, Estera, killed the curfew and ended the dreaded soldier patrols. Now she wonders if her father’s measures were the only thing keeping the city from chaos.

Estera rules the city, nominally, but no one trusts her. Her father tried to kidnap the prince and Estera gave him away. Some cannot forgive Marcen for the kidnapping and some cannot forgive Estera’s betrayal. Furthermore, Estera’s reputation for theft has started to haunt her. To her father’s friends, it proves her dishonor, while to her father’s enemies, it proves she is just like her father.

#### The Boat Drivers

The Boat Drivers started out as Vodacce-style gondo-liers, punting passengers between houseboats and islands. Now, with bodies falling in the water, they have become Sperus’ makeshift police.

Say you are a hunter. You want to burn some farmers’ houses. You take a gondola to the farmers’ island because that looks less suspicious than driving in your houseboat, and as you leave the gondola, you light a burning brand. You walk two steps only to find that gondoliers surround you now (or if you were subtle and lit up only once you neared a  farmer’s house, maybe a gondolier followed you). Thus far, the gondoliers have stopped only obvious crimes, but they are developing good instincts, getting better at knowing when to leave a boat to follow someone onto shore—and training themselves in sword use so they can bring saboteurs down.

#### The Sunken City

In some parts of Sperus, houseboats sit tied to spires that jut just above the waterline. Sperus was once the site of a city built in folly from heavy stone on soggy ground. The city sank—that much is clear—and now only cupolas and minarets remain above the water, serving boaters as impromptu anchors. No one knows who built the city or when—the water has wiped out all signs of age—but the architecture styles suggest something Crescent, despite the fact that the Crescent Empire never successfully occupied Curonia for more than four years’ time.

The curious agelessness of the city, combined with the fact that even the oldest Curonian records do not mention it, has led Scholomance scholars to specu-late it might have been built by the ancestors of those who later founded the Crescent Empire as early as the Old Kingdom.

Nowadays, hunters and trappers rope their house-boats to the spires and tell the farmers the water-logged ruins are haunted. A would-be explorer who dives deep, hoping to catch glimpses of the larger ruins, finds herself stymied by the muddy water. A few trappers have tried to map the city by swim-ming through it blindly, though the disorientation engendered thereby leads largely to injury—and useless maps.

## Sanderis

Much about Sanderis is unknown. The Ratas, the organization that governs all losejai, purposefully obsucres information about their art from the wider world. Despite this, the people of Curonia are inti-mately familiar with the dievas, and the stories that go with them.

Mothers tell stories about dievai to scare unruly children, but the truth is darker than anyone thinks. The dievai are very real, and very powerful creatures. Rumors and legends do not do them justice, and only those who have seen their magic firsthand know how truly destructive they can be.

The biggest problem is that the dievai, though honest, always try to twist the words of losejas, making her simple request into something it wasn’t before. This has led to various disasters and catastrophies all across the Sarmatian Commonwealth. The stories of these events, like the legend of Saulės Mūšis, get twisted and confused in their own right, probably due to the influence of the dievai themselves.

Many people believe these beings are simply wild, needing only a firm hand to get ultimate power. This leads people to do dangerous and often Villainous things in the name of taming them.

Unlike a sorcerer in another Nation, who must either earn her powers or be born with them, anyone in the Sarmatian Commonwealth has the ability to become a losejas. Anyone can be approached by a dievas, and simply accepting the Deal he offers gives one incredible powers. Someone who does make a Deal finds herself quickly under watchful eyes, ready to stike her down if she makes one mistake.

### The First Deal

Among the losejai there is but one unifying theme: each one of them has made a Deal with a dievas. While the individuals vary and the terms of the Deals are each unique, there is no way to learn the art of Sanderis without entering into such a contract.

These contracts come about in one of two ways: either a dievas attempts to convince someone to accept her Deal, or the potential losejas seeks out a dievas to attempt to gain her power. No matter how the Deal forms, it always represents what the Sarmatian desires most in the world. However, the cost is always high, commonly the death of a loved one or one under the protection of the Sarmatian. But it is not always something so dire. The dievai play the long game, and sometimes the cost of the first Deal seems almost comically small. “In two years time, a man named Piotr will come to you and ask you a question. You must answer him with “yes,” is a Deal which may seem innocent enough at first look. However, two years later a man named Piotr could come to the losejas and demand to take his daughter with him as a bride. Only then would the true nature of the Deal come to light.

Most losejai are enticed into their contract by a dievas. Who is chosen and why is a mystery known only to the dievai. Sarmatians who would never consider making a Deal are targeted, while those who hunger and yearn for the power find themselves stymied and may never encounter a dievas. Most often, a targeted person does not even realize she is being enticed into forging a Deal until it is already too late. A dievas hides his true nature while growing close to his target. A dievas can appear in a human form if he so desires, and while he cannot physically interact with anything in our world, he can speak to his intended target.

A perceptive Sarmatian may realize that her new friend has never touched her arm, picked up a cup, conversed with anyone else in a busy room or suddenly vanished when she turned her back, but these signs are lost on many. Especially because some dievai are powerful enough to create the illusion of touch, even going so far as convincing a losejas that the two are lovers.

This pursuit can take place over a period of time, often days but sometimes weeks or even months. During this time the masked dievas gains the trust of his intended and learns of her deepest desires. To the Sarmatian, this new individual seems to be a new friend, a potential lover or a sudden ally. To the dievas, it is all just a game, a means of increasing the likeli-hood that his Deal will be accepted.

Once the dievas feels that he has his target enthralled, the dievas reveals his true form and offers his target a Deal. At this point many feel close to the dievas and so strongly want what he offers that only those with the strongest will refuse the offer.

While it is much less common for a Sarmatian to seek out a dievas than to have the Deal brought to her, it is possible to initiate a Deal yourself. Sarmatians tell many folk tales about the means one can use to summon a dievas. And while many are just that, some of the stories contain a bit of truth.

A legend from the hills of Curonia claims if one gathers specific items and buries them at a crossroads, a dievas appears willing to make a Deal. There is no guarantee that this will be successful. A Sarmatian could bury the needed items at a crossroads and have no dievas appear, and the next day another could bury the same items at the same crossroads and be approached. Only the dievai truly understand the choices they make. Once the dievas makes contact, the Sarmatian makes the request for what she wants and the dievas offers her a Deal.

Scholars in the Ratas wonder why so many more losejai have their Deals initiated by the dievai. The best theory that has been brought forward is that to the dievas, the act of enticing an unknowing target to accept a contract is more worthwhile. Being sought out by a potential losejas removes that aspect of the contract and is, in some twisted way, less fun for the dievas.

A single group in particular, the žynys (pronounced: JEE-NEES), or priests in Curonia, are much more likely to have contact with the dievai. These people act as spiritual guides for the people of Curonia, and make a point of understanding the pomp and ritual surrounding the dievai. This devotion seems to attract the dievai, though the reason is unknown. Some believe the dievai mistake the scholarship as worship and enjoy the attention.

### The Ratas

While a sorcerer from another Nation may be aligned to a number of different factions, or even act completely on her own, a Sanderis user belongs to a larger organization, even if he does not know it. The Ratas governs each and every losejas beginning the moment he makes his first Deal. A new losejas finds himself approached by members of the Ratas within days of making his contract and gets informed of his new allegiance to the organization. Ratas members make it exceptionally clear to the new losejas that he has only two options. He can either join the Circle or be eliminated. He gets no time to contemplate his answer. If he does not immediately agree, then the Ratas agents attack without remorse and do every-thing within their power to obliterate the losejas.

Upon joining the Ratas, each member selects a new name to be referred to by other losejai. This is a holdover from the earliest days of the Ratas. Even then losejai knew that they empowered their Deals by knowing the true Name of their dievai. Those first members believed that all names had power and did not trust their peers with their own names. Over the decades this has proven to be false. However, the tradition still stands amongst the Ratas today, though the organization has no formal rules for this chosen name. Often the losejas takes the name of an animal, such as Sokół, the Falcon, or a title from before she accepted the Deal, such as Kowal, the Blacksmith. While a losejas is free to use her own name in any other aspect of her life, amongst all interactions with other losejai, from formal meetings to encountering another member at a tavern, she uses her chosen name exclusively in communication. To use the birth name of another losejas is an extreme taboo.

### RATAS FACTIONS

To those outside the Ratas, it appears that the losejai form a uniﬁed front. However, this is far from the truth. Within the Circle, a number of factions, while loyal to the overall organization, have no love lost between each other. A member of the Listeners, who gather secrets from around Théah, has no reason to support a member of the Circle of Storms, a militant faction wanting to see the overall power of the Ratas grow. Inﬁghting is common, and this stops any one faction from becoming too strong within the Circle.

It is unlikely that any within the Ratas know of every faction, but other major powers include the Red Eyes, who want to reduce Ratas oversight on the use of Sanderis Deals, the Order of the Question, who seek a way to remove dievai from Terra completely and the Puppet Masters, who seek to gain control of the dievai and use them to their own ends.

Heroes with Sanderis may choose to become a member of any—or none—of these factions in game. Treat these factions like additional Secret Societies the Hero can be a member of, though keep in mind that the goals of the Ratas may come into conﬂict with the goals of the Secret Society, and she must manage them both. A player should work with her Game Master to deﬁne the Ratas faction she wishes to be a part of.

Membership in the Ratas is not limited by age or experience. Upon joining the Circle, a losejas is a full member, a Członek, with all the rights given by the organization. There is no shame in remaining at this level and the majority of all Ratas members do not change their rank over their entire lives. Some do chose to dedicate more of their lives towards the Ratas. With time and dedication, one can advance to the Rada, the Inner Council. Those who join the Council make the decisions of the Ratas. Additionally, it is possible to join the Valytuvas who enforce the judgment of the Circle.

Beyond that, the Mistrz is the leader of the Ratas. The current Mistrz, a woman called Wiedźma, the Witch, has been the master of the Circle for as long as anyone can remember. The eldest members of the Ratas recall Wiedźma being firmly entrenched in her role when they first joined. Additionally, she still appears as young and beautiful as she was decades ago. Many believe this to be due to her Deal, although no one knows the specifics.

### The Valytuvas

In one of its most important roles, the Ratas monitors the actions of the losejai. Each member of the orga-nization, even the newest members with only a single Deal, are capable of incredible destruction. Because of this, the Circle must police its own to ensure that no ill will comes toward its members. However, the Ratas follows unusual ethics. Evil acts, even the most monstrous of murders, are beyond the purview of the Circle if done through conventional means. As long as the losejas does not use Sanderis, a member can kill indiscriminately and see no punishment from the Ratas.

The Ratas generally overlooks small uses of power. The repercussions of these acts are small enough that little concern is paid to them. However, they fully investigate large acts. If the Ratas finds a losejas has invoked her Deal for more than a minor act, it dispatches the Valytuvas to determine what caused the losejas to act. Depending on the severity of the use of power, the Valytuvas may take a statement or, in the case of more drastic actions, require that the losejas return to the Ratas to stand before the Mistrz. In the most extreme cases, such as using Sanderis to kill without cause, the penalty is death. They may levy other punishments for lesser crimes, but the Mistrz issues the final verdict. No member of the Ratas would act against her judgment.

How the Ratas determines when a losejas uses her powers improperly remains a mystery to the rest of the losejai. While at times it may be obvious, as there are only so many ways that an entire city can be plunged into complete darkness at a whim, other uses of Sanderis are more subtle. That the Ratas still finds out about these subtle misuses has led many members to believe that they make Deals to unearth this information.

When a losejas has been found to have fully given in to the evil nature of his dievas, the Valytuvas dispatch in a different role altogether. In this role, they truly embody their title, Purifier, and seek out the rogue losejas to stop him before he can cause too much harm.

Once the Valytuvas find their target, they give him a single opportunity to repent. If rejected, then they use their full might to kill the losejas. Because a losejas with no conscience can, and will, use the full might of his Deal, the Ratas gives the Valytuvas a special permission: they may use Sanderis as they wish with no fear of investigation. This does open the concern that a member of the Valytuvas may abuse her power and use her sorcery outside of her mission. The Ratas claims to have safeguards in place to keep this from happening; but when members ask for specifics, the Ratas gives no answer.

#### Joining the Valytuvas

Joining the Valytuvas is more complex than advancing in rank to join the Narada. The first step in joining the Valytuvas is to seek out a mentor already a member of the Purifiers. In order to convince the veteran to take you on as an apprentice, you must demonstrate your worth.

Each mentor sends the new recruit out to complete a specific task. A formality in some ways, the mentor is the sole determiner of what quest he requires to prove yourself. A losejas who already has a good rela-tionship with the Valytuvas may be sent down to the library to retrieve a book while another Valytuvas may send a less trusted recruit on a mission to retrieve a Syrneth artifact.

Once the losejas completes the task to the Purifier’s satisfaction, the recruit becomes a full apprentice. As an apprentice, the losejas shadows the Valytuvas. During this time, the apprentice receives training in combat, stealth, tracking, research and investiga-tion as well as the role Sanderis can play in each of these areas.

While a Purifier needs these skills to complete her duties, this also allows the mentor to determine if an apprentice should have the freedom to use Sanderis at will without repercussion. If a Valytuvas member abused that power, it would blow back on the mentor just as much as the rogue Purifier.

Once a mentor determines that an apprentice should join the ranks of the Valytuvas, she is sent to one final test with the Mistrz. This test takes place in the Wymagnine, a specific hall in the Ratas headquarters only accessible to the Mistrz, for the sole purpose of testing new Purifiers. The apprentice enters the room, empty except for the Mistrz and an archway that the recruit must walk through.

The consensus amongst the Purifiers is that when walking through the archway, you face your greatest fear in your mind. Those able to face it walk through the archway successfully and join the ranks of the Valytuvas. A recruit who cannot face her fears backs out of the archway and the mentor dismisses her from her duties as an apprentice. There is no action taken against those who fail the final test, and a losejas who fails may go back to her previous duties as though nothing changed, but she may never again attempt to join the Purifiers.

No one knows if the archway really conjures a threat into the mind of those who walk through it, but the thought of facing your fears is enough to cause many potential students to back away without ever going through. Those who do refuse to speak of what happened to them.

### The Seventh Deal

Every member of the Ratas has a theory about what occurs when a losejas makes the Seventh Deal with his dievas. Some are fantastic, others benign, but there is only one truth. The truth is in many ways darker than many of the theories and involves more sacrifice on behalf of the losejas than any of his previous Deals.

Once a losejas makes the Seventh Deal, the dievas is able to leave its world and fully enter ours. It enters the physical world fully embodied and with none of the rules that it was forced to follow when interacting with the losejas.

Before this point, it could only act indirectly. The dievas could ask for a losejas to act according to its goals as a cost of a Deal, but it could not physically interact with anything in our world. This is not the case once the Seventh Deal is made.

Once the losejas accepts the final contract, after the dievas gives whatever boon the losejas requested, the dievas with its full and complete power physically and permanently manifests. At this time, the previous Deals are forfeit. The losejas is no longer empowered with Sanderis.

This is not the only cost to the losejas. The terms of the Seventh Deal always include a sacrifice, but not a physical sacrifice. A dievas would not simply ask that the losejas cut off her own hand. The sacrifice is always something more. Something deeper.

To make the Seventh Deal, the losejas must sacri-fice a part of her soul. What and how varies and each dievas may ask for something different. One may ask that the losejas give up her joy, while another may ask for him to sacrifice his dreams.

These sacrifices are not metaphorical. If the losejas gives up her joy, she literally gives up her ability to feel joy. That aspect of her vanishes—permanently. The dievas uses that sacrifice to become corporeal and enter the world.

While a dievas is undeniably empowered upon entering the physical world, he receives one signifi-cant weakness. Here, a dievas can be killed. This death is permanent and only possible when it is corporeal. Any action taken against a dievas in its own world is laughably ineffective; however, in the physical realm, a dievas bleeds when cut with a blade.

### SEVENTH DEAL STORIES

Because of the sacriﬁces a Hero accepts when taking the Seventh Deal, this type of story is not for everyone. Taking the Seventh Deal not only removes a signiﬁcant amount of character advancement by removing

all Sorcery Advantages taken, but the narrative cost is high as well. Most players elect to have their Heroes reach six Deals and stay there without taking the Sorcery Advantage again.

A Seventh Deal Story can be a good choice to end a campaign. Once an overarching story has come to a place with the end in sight, it may be worth a Hero taking Sorcery for the seventh time to make her ﬁnal Deal. Players should be fully aware of and accepting of the repercussions of their Heroes making the Seventh Deal.

#### The Reaping

While the sacrifice made by the losejas is significant, and often times debilitating, making the Seventh Deal does grant her some benefits. She gains the following abilities:

* She may spend a Hero Point to learn the current location of her dievas by knowing how far away it is, and in what direction.
* She may spend a Hero Point to negate a single Monstrous Quality her dievas posesses for the remainder of the Round. This may be done once per Round.
* When directly interacting with her dievas, she gains Bonus Dice to all rolls equal to her Ranks in Resolve.
* She does not have to spend a Hero Point to take Actions against her dievas when she is Helpless. The dievas may still attempt to murder her, but she has enough strength to keep fighting until the very last.

When a dievas dies in our world, it completely and irrevocably dies. The dievas cannot cheat its way out of this death. As long as someone deals the final Dramatic Wound to a dievas with the conscious deci-sion to kill it, the dievas dies.

Regardless of the circumstances surrounding this encounter, a Hero receives no Corruption for killing a dievas. This is not to say that the circum-stances themselves could not give Corruption. Simply, the act of killing the dievas never gives a Hero Corruption.

Once a dievas dies, the aspect that the losejas sacri-ficed to provide form to the being dies as well. In the case of the losejas who sacrificed her joy to make the Seventh Deal, she literally kills her own joy when the dievas dies. The Hero must live with this sacrifice for the remainder of her days. Knowing that the sacrifice helped kill something truly and completely evil makes this easier to accept, but it is still one of the most difficult choices anyone in Théah can make.

## Legendy of the Sarmatian Commonwealth

Often, immigrants from Ussura or Eisen remark with relief that (besides the dievai) there are not many monsters in the Commonwealth. And indeed, most of the country’s apex predators are not unnatural—but as the cynical Curonians say, wolves and bears still kill when hungry, and humans kill for no reason at all.

In Voruta, the Scholomance works to identify dievai. Thus far they have classified 812 of who-knows-how-many dievai—classified by name-known-under, by basic (though often changing) appearance, by motif, by known Deals and by modus operandi.

Of the 812 thus classified, the listed three deemed by the Scholomance most dangerous have never been contacted and dealt with without eventually turning their losejai into a Villain. At this point, the Ratas officially recommends killing any who bargain with these three on sight.

### Saulė, the Burning Sun

No one has seen Saulė since the days of the last King Petras, but she still gets the top spot on the list of most dangerous dievai. The Villains she creates are those whose passions blaze without restraint; her losejai start intemperate and become ever more impul-sive under her influence. In her long lifetime, she has started wars, sparked love affairs that ended kingdoms, burned cities (including Saulės Mūšis)—in sheer straightforward destructive power, Scholomance scholars say she is unrivaled. For all that, though, she disappeared once Saulės Mūšis burned; no one has made a Deal with her in centuries. Of course, she could still be making Deals, but under a different guise—though Scholomance study indicates it would be difficult for her to completely change her motifs.

Theories abound as to where she is now. The most popular theory, albeit the one most vehemently denied by the Ratas, states that she made the Seventh Deal with Petras before burning Saulės Mūšis and now walks the world in a physical body, unfettered. Many who believe this also believe that Saulė and the Sanderas pyre-maker Gabija the Red are one in the same; this despite the Ratas’ insistence that Gabija is not a dievas at all. The dievai, when asked, sometimes say this is the case: they furthermore say that Saulė (or Gabija) constructs the pyres in order to atone for her sins. Most losejai, even those who distrust the Ratas, consider that last part unlikely—after all, who has ever heard of a remorseful dievas?

Another theory has it that after the Saulės Mūšis’ fall, Saulė (acting bodily or otherwise) stayed in the city. The theory has been gaining ground ever since a Scholomance scholar posited that the strange fruit in the city’s remains were her doing, since Growth was one of her known Deals. If so, she has been acting as both the city’s benefactor and terror—for who but she could be responsible for the citizens’ screaming disappearances?

#### What’s Known

Saulė most often appears as a beautiful woman surrounded by a blazing, sun-like corona.

Saulė tends to stalk an impulsive would-be losejas, making Deals with her, then wearing down her temperance. The Villains she creates are destruc-tive and self-indulgent; she is known for taking her losejai as lovers and is the only dievas Scholomance scholars strongly suspect has survived making the Seventh Deal.

### Laima, the Child-Catcher

Growing older is a terrible thing, for once you grow older, you must never climb trees. Once you grow older, you must do more chores; you have less time to play, and sooner or later your parents start speaking of marriage. Some very clever children have seen this and decided they wish to never grow up; these clever children make Deals with Laima the Child-Catcher.

Laima’s children never grow a day older or a mote wiser: they remain always foolish and amoral, rambunctious and careless as children are, tiny pred-ators with tiny white milk teeth that never fall out no matter how many sweets they eat. They say she lives in the Sanderas Forest, in a cottage built of ginger-bread and icing: she helps any losejas who comes across her, so long as he tells her something about a child. Many refuse to.

Laima’s children are a constant source of contro-versy amongst the Ratas. Those who take her Deals are legitimately dangerous: a child’s moral naïveté and utter lack of self-restraint combines poorly with Laima’s unpredictable sorcery. A child is ill-equipped to undergo Katabasis, which means once she makes a deal, she likely grows ever more insane and dangerous.

But the obvious alternative is likewise fraught: many Ratas are unwilling to simply kill those chil-dren. The last little girl who lived with Laima died in the Sanderas Forest four years ago: since then, fear has gripped the hearts of Curonian parents as they wonder if Laima will choose their child next.

#### What’s Known

Laima most often appears as a very old lady with mossy teeth and mossy hair.

Scholomance Scholars call Laima’s only known Deal the “Deal of Time,” though they have yet to find another dievas who offers anything comparable. Laima’s children may manipulate time: most notably, they do not age.

Laima appears to a child who insists he won’t grow up—though how she finds him, no one really knows. Under her influence, her charge loses whatever grasp he had on maturity, quickly becoming an amoral creature, self-indulgent and vicious. Though he stops aging under her care, Lamia’s losejas often die quickly; a powerful child is almost always poorly equipped for self-preservation.

### Perkunas, the Righteous Storm

They say the first losejas who summoned Perkunas mourned the fall of Saulės Mūšis; horrified by the fruits of Sanderis, he summoned Perkunas to rid the country of all losejai, starting with the nascent Ratas and ending with himself. For ten years, they say, he led the Fallen Inquisition, and brought the losejai near extinction before he died by his sister, an experienced Sanderis practitioner who, once she had killed him, summoned Perkunas herself.

As he had been determined to rid the land of losejai, so she was determined to rid Curonia of all Vaticine oppression—and so she started her own twenty-year reign of terror, taking down entire towns she accused of “collaborating” with the Vaticine, until, two decades in, no Church stood in Curonia. Only when she turned on her subordinates (at this point lacking other enemies), accusing them of pro-Vaticine sympa-thies, did she finally see defeat.

Those who summon Perkunas always wish to purge the world of evil—and Perkunas seems to want that as well, with all the times he has left the Sanderas looking for losejai. Often, whatever evil Perkunas and the losejai see, they succeed in completely eliminating. Most famously, the ethnic Khodynts, who used to live in Northern Curonia, suffered extinction by one of Perkunas’ losejas.

Less famous, but perhaps more insidious, are all the ideas that have been eliminated by Perkunas. One losejas claimed that Perkunas had eliminated the concept of his family, completely eliminating them from his life because they were a distraction. The Scholomance scholars who recorded it found an entire book on Perkunas, but swore they had never seen the book before. No one seems to know where that book is now.

#### What’s Known

Perkunas most often appears as bearded man with his face in shadow, dressed in black and white and riding a fiery steed. Unlike most dievai, who wander weaponless, he always wears the traditional Sarmatian cavalry saber.

Perkunas does not approach people with Deals; he must be summoned from the Sanderas forest. You would think that meant fewer people summoning him, but there is always some chump who thinks the current evil he fights is worse than all the other evils that have ever existed in history, and therefore justifies his extreme tactics (like summoning Perkunas).

Perkunas, clever devil that he is, never asks his sorcerers to do anything that might break their moral code; the terrible things he asks his losejai to do as favors always directly devastate only those who somehow, in some way, embody the evil the losejai want to destroy. (If it is not obvious how they embody that evil, Perkunas is always happy to tell). In doing so, he further radicalizes his sorcerers; after all (as the Numanari philosopher Publius once said) it is human nature to hate those whom you have hurt.

### The Silver Knights

Sometimes, when all seems hopeless, when fires burn and Villains triumph in the Commonwealth, suddenly a Knight appears.

The Knights always wear old-fashioned armor, like something out of the twelfth century, and their conduct, even in dark forests and dank slums, is impeccably chivalrous. They save children and fight Villains and appear always in full plate; they never speak or raise their helms to show their faces. Many believe the Knights act as the genius loci of the Commonwealth itself. They wander all parts of the Nation now, and always act alone, but the žynys say that if the Commonwealth is ever truly threatened, the Silver Knights will gather and fight the threat as one force, and on that day, they will speak again.

#### What’s True

When the organization that eventually became known as die Kreuzritter marched from Eisen determined to find demons in the east, they joined a detachment of mixed Rzeplitan and Curonian Knights who sought the birthplace of the dievai, called the Silver Knights. During the trek through the Crescent Empire, the leader of the Silver Knights, a woman called Anna, had a series of dreams that led her to believe the birthplace of the dievai was “in a garden, in a mountain” to the west of their current location. She and her Knights split from the bulk of the Eisen forces, marched into Ashur and plundered the First Garden. In doing so, they became immortal, but also lost their voices.

Only then did they discover the Garden had a Guardian.

The other Knights, upon seeing the Guardian, drew their swords, but Anna had always been wise, so she knelt at his feet instead. Writing in the dust, she begged the Guardian for his mercy, explaining that they were foreigners who had come hoping to find the birthplace of demons but now had transgressed by plundering the Garden.

The Guardian acknowledged that they had trans-gressed terribly, but agreed to let them go, so long as they went home and never left the soils of their home countries again. When they reached the border where the Crescent Empire, Rzeczpospolita and Curonia all touched, they silently swore to become eternal protec-tors of their homelands.

### Toasting with Water

Legend says that a losejas can only raise toasts with alcohol. Water toasts are strictly forbidden. If she does raise a glass of water, her dievas gains a foothold and learns all her dark secrets, allowing him to corrupt her. This does not cause too many problems, since most Sarmatians prefer hard liquors and wines over water.

In rural areas, where liquor is hard to come by, a losejas may find herself in a bit of a bind. The rumors say that if you force a toast with water, you can spot losejai in the crowd by who refuses to drink, or even raise their glass. Those who do not wish to anger the powerful people always have some kind of alcohol on hand to offer instead of water when toasting may be in order.

#### What’s True

A losejas can raise a toast with water, and the origin of the legend is rather sad. In rural Curonian villages, people suspected of being losejai are frequently ostra-cized, especially when their Deals are not approved by the local žynys. Such was the case of Motina, who made a fortune in her tiny village trading in herbal medicines. A jealous žynys accused her of being a dangerous losejas.

Not an actual losejas, Motina was also not above lying, so to win back her community’s trust, she spread the rumor about the water—then raised a toast with a water glass on the žynys’ birthday. The žynys, a losejas himself, did not think the local water safe, so he filled his cup with wine before drinking, thus inadvertently confirming the rumor.

It has been a couple of centuries since then, and the tale obtained a life of its own. Nowadays many losejai believe they tempt fate by toasting with water, a suppo-sition dievai find highly amusing and do not bother correcting. Some losejai even travel through unfriendly lands with drops of mead hidden in hollow rings or secreted inside their sleeves. When found (as they often are), the rumor gains more currency.

To make matters worse, in many rural towns, the water isn’t safe to drink. A traveler from those towns calls down suspicion on himself by refusing to drink water elsewhere. Finally, Rzeczpospolita has protocols governing when it is and is not meet to raise a glass to any toast. A Rzeplitan trying for honor often encoun-ters suspicion when, for example, she fails to raise to a stance she disagrees with.

### The Hanging Tree

Once upon a time, so the story goes, a young man saw all his comrades killed in war. When he came home, he couldn’t stand the burden of surviving when everyone he knew was dead. In a moment of pure despair, he decided to kill himself.

He wrapped his belt around the nearest oak tree and made to hang himself. As he dangled in the air, choking for breath, dying, his life came into full clarity. His comrades were dead and gone, yes, but he still had his life ahead of him.

In the span of a few seconds, but what felt to him like long minutes, each of the fallen soldiers came to him on the tree, and told him a final wish, what they needed him to do for them before he could die. As they did so, they put a little cut in the belt. Once the last one was finished, and when he realized that he had no real desire to die, the belt suddenly broke under his weight, and he fell to the ground. He broke both his legs, but he lived.

When the man lay dying many decades later, he asked his family to bury him beneath the same tree. Afterwards people said that if someone wished to end her life, she should first wrap her belt around one of the trees’ branches and leave it there for a week and by the week’s end, legend said she would no longer feel the urge to die. So that oak came to be the Hanging Tree, and every year hundreds of women and men wrap their belts around the branches and beg the ghost of that long-ago man to free them from the urge to end their lives.

#### What’s True

Several “Hanging Trees” exist in the Commonwealth, each claiming to be the original. All are strung with belts and hose, and all have partisans (including many formerly suicidal) swearing to their effectiveness.

Explanations proffered include that the soldier haunts them all, that each was the site of a suicide (unsuccessful or otherwise) or (the theory newly offered by Castillian researcher Iratze Eneko) that the trees, along with the stories, act as a placebo to the suicidal. Since the placebo effect is not much under-stood yet, this last theory remains controversial, with many sending Eneko hate mail regarding her attempts to “ruin” the sacred trees.

Regardless of which is the original or just a copy, the trees are all afforded a great deal of respect, and anyone seen tying a belt or visiting the tree is likely to gain a lot of sympathetic attention.

Some tend to the trees, bringing fresh water and fertilizer to those places where a tree looks to be in need. These people also keep an eye out for would-be suicides, offering them comfort and solace. Many say that just having others around to listen to and try to comfort them is enough to stop any thoughts of death.

### Rusałka Week

They say in the last days of Numanari rule, a sinister mystery cult controlled Szablewo. Every year, seven weeks after the spring solstice, they ritually drowned seven boys and seven maidens over seven days to call a thunderstorm to cleanse the city on the eighth. They terrorized the town, taking the children of political adversaries and any who would question their rule.

Seven years into their rule, the mystery cult made a mistake: they drowned a sorcerer’s sister. The sorcerer was a powerful necromancer, and she tried to revive her sister, but the cultists stopped her before she could finish, leaving her poor sister as an undead wretch, a rusałka.

In an act of vengeance against the cultists, the sorcerer, so the story goes, cast a spell that raised all the spirits of the sacrifice victims as rusałka. Seven weeks after the spring solstice, for the seven days of sacrifice, these invisible spirits came into Szablewo and stole the breath of all who lived in and around city.

Many people died to the rusałka, until the people revolted and overthrew the mystery cult. When the rusałka were to come again, the people put on white masks, to show their mourning for the dead. The rusałka were appeased by the gesture, and angry at any who did not display it. Those who did not put on the masks died by loss of breath.

Thus the citizens of Szablewo learned to don masks for the seven days of sacrifice seven weeks after the spring solstice, and even today, no one may enter Szablewo or the surrounding area for those seven days without a nose-and-mouth-covering mask.

While an entire festival has grown up around what is called “Rusałka Week” the locals warn that the danger of not wearing a proper mask is very real. The rusałka are insidious and will find any who try to get by without one. Even in the home, and while sleeping, people must wear their masks, or risk drowning to a rusałka attack.

#### What’s True

In Szablewo, for seven days, seven weeks after the spring solstice, everyone wears nose-and-mouth- covering masks. Laws in the city and surrounding areas prohibit appearing in public unmasked, and for good reason: seeing breath stolen is terrifying. The rusałka victim gasps and then begins to drown with no water near. Sometimes bringing the victim indoors or giving him a mask dislodges the rusałka, but in most cases, nothing can be done. However, rusalki are native to Ussura and do not travel. One can rarely find them further south than the Boyars River. So it is not water spirits that plague the townspeople.

Plowman’s Lace is a small flowering plant that grows only in and around Szablewo. For seven days, seven weeks after the spring solstice, it releases very poisonous pollen. Breathing in enough of the pollen causes the bronchial tubes to clench shut, leaving the breather drowning, surrounded by air.

A sinister Numanari mystery cult once ruled Szablewo, but their sacrifices have nothing to do with the flowering plant. The story came about after an explorer came up from the Crystal Caves, claiming she found great mosaics explaining the story of the sorcerer. What had been a complete mystery now seemed to have some kind of explanation, and the people accepted it.

And it seems likely Szablewo’s citizens would not be entirely well-served by learning of the rusałka’s true origins. Over the centuries, Rusałka Week has become a cultural institution, a festival of masks in the Vodacce style, filled with the sort of sins usually frowned upon in the University City. During Rusałka Week, masked citizens gamble, have anonymous sex and drink to excess.

People compete throughout the rest of the year to make the most beautiful, elaborate masks for Rusałka Week, where they show them and trade them (in many parts of the city it is considered déclassé not to have a new mask each day). The weekly carnival provides a chance for the usually uptight citizens of Szablewo to let loose, and perhaps it would be a little cruel to deprive them of the excuse.