After much cleaning, we're happy to announce that our center piece map of the Crown Lands is back on display in the Map Room. This particular map was commissioned to a young journee cartographer by the name of Henry Rinn.
The Crown Lands, as their known, are all lands along the southern coast under the protection of, and swearing fealty to, the House of Arynn. Since I've got a full cup, I'll fill you in on any places you may be unfamiliar with.
The Capital
The Endless City. The Sea of Hearth Light. Thieves Empire.
The seat of power for all the Crown Lands rests firmly in The Capital. I know what you're thinking and yes, folk have tried giving the city a name, many times over, but the stubbornness of nobility has persisted. I suppose the thinking is that by simply calling it 'The Capital,' it pales all other throne cities by comparison.
The exact age of The Capital is not known, even to those in the Royal Historical halls. At the city's center is borough known as Old Stone. It's a collection of ornate marble cathedrals and palaces, now home to the city's many centers of learning. So the story goes, when the first settlers came down south, Old Stone stood as it is now, but abandoned. You know how it goes, the folks wearing crowns found fancy castles, no sign of their inhabitants, and shouted, 'these structures are a sign, a sign of our divine right to rule!' I found a silk glove in the road once, didn't make me a duke all the sudden.
Over the years the surrounding kingdoms ebbed and flowed like the tide. Huge influxes of migrants saw the once modest city expand exponentially. Borough after borough was added, canal after canal was dredged. Before too long it had grown to an almost unfathomable size.
The city, as it stands today, takes about three days to cross at its widest. So huge is it that there must be a hundred different dialects and as many styles of cuisine. While it's enormous size has granted the ruling classes great wealth, its come at the cost of absolute control. Thieves guilds burrow tunnel networks underground while magik cults host strange services by moonlight. 'This city has become a mystery unto itself,' a notable historian once said.
A thousand tomes could not fully describe the enormity and diversity of The Capital. Because of this I will simply say that The Capital reflects the great duality that is human-kind. Beautiful and ugly, industrious and chaotic, imaginative and gluttonous. Great place to visit but you'll never see me live there...
Temple of Bellany
Bellany is the religious icon of solitude and quiet contemplation. He is a figure of worship for scholar and hermit alike. With this in mind, I suppose the monks who chose the Isle of Erreborn for their temple revering the solitary icon thought it was the perfect spot. Isolated, natural, and lacking in snakes. Perhaps they should have consulted a naturalist first.
There's a particular bird who makes the southern Crown Lands its roosting home. Called the Wurping Swan, this fascinating bird operates on a ten year migratory path which takes them to far off lands, only to return to their mating site of Erreborn... More fascinating still is its song, which I have read described as a 'drunken duck attempting to laugh whilst choking,' and a 'startled oxen imitating a barn cat on fire.' They sing this song loud and without cease, day and night.
So imagine the surprise on the faces of those monks of Bellany. Having completed construction on their respectable temple and preparing for their day of quiet contemplation, when suddenly 10,000 large birds returned to their ancestral mating grounds ready to sing.
I've heard there was much debate on what to do. Cull the birds, leave the island, or perhaps pour lead into their ear canals. The monks had become desperate.
In time, however, a monk by the name of Federic saw an opportunity for a religious epiphany. Could these monks of Bellany truly worship if not tested? Should they only find silent contemplation if the world provided it? No, if these folk of cloth were true to their creed then they would need to find a way, no matter the environment.
And so they put up with it. Every ten years the monks of Bellany prepare for their year long test to their convictions. For their sake I hope all their views on the afterlife are true, because I've heard a wurping swan before and, good lords, no one deserves that.
Silver Arrow Hall
Silver Arrow Hall is a historic hunting lodge in the westernmost reaches of the Crown Lands. Any who claim to be masters of the wild woods will have visited at least once and seen the great trophy room decorated by the horn and head of all manner of magikal creature.
Truth be told it's a bit of a touchy subject. On the one hand, yes, dragons and wyrms have destroyed whole villages. Cockatrice have devoured entire herds of cattle in a single night. Unicorns have, well, I'm not really sure but their horns look awfully pointy.
On the other hand, the aggressive hunting by those that call the Hall home have stripped the Crown Lands of so much of what makes our world beautiful. Walking from Yoolin to Pillard's Notch, you won't hear the serine song of a strix or see the resplendent mane of a kelpie. I sometime wonder if in such a panic to make our world safer if we haven't lost our place in it...
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