“The breath of the gods is not wind, nor flame, nor tide—

it is memory.

It is what we choose to remember, and who we choose to become.”

— Opening words of the SaLoran Invocation

Welcome, to another chapter in our epic tale of Burghandia. Today… we do not battle foes, nor crown new kings, nor unveil hidden treachery. Today, we explore something more intimate and pervasive: Faith.

In the era called the Blind Times, life in Burghandia was a fleeting flame—few lived past thirty, and despair shadowed every hearth. Official temples rang with oaths to a Nine-Fold Pantheon: Isla the Sea-Mother, Agüeybaná the War-King, Maquetaurie Guayaba the Harvest Trickster, Opiel Guabiron the Beast-Guardian, Yocahu’s Heir of Light, Atabeyra’s Heir of Tides, Guabancex’s Sentinel of Storm, Jurakan’s Forger of Flame, and Moboyas’s Keeper of Night. Yet even these venerable Sanctum-Halls seemed distant in a land gasping for hope.

Into this darkness strode an unexpected light: Krassus, a humble peasant whose only claim to note was his generous kindness. When Krassus discovered two abandoned babies—Aeliana and Treelius—under a moonless sky, he did not call upon gods or miracles. He simply saw two children in need and opened his door, his home, and his heart.

Under Krassus’s care, Aeliana and Treelius grew strong and curious. There were whispers—fields seemed a touch greener where they played, ailments eased when they tended the sick—but these were small miracles, born of compassion rather than divine decree. Neighbors shared bread, healers offered potions, and Krassus found a deeper purpose: to protect these two souls and guide them toward a future brighter than any he had known.

As word spread, simple villagers began murmuring prayers by dawn’s first light and by ember’s final glow. They spoke of the Nine as guardians of every path—light in the dark, storm in the stillness, harvest in the hovel—but it was Krassus’s gentle resolve that gave their faith new shape.

Though Coronism had long honored the Nine-Fold Children in grand hymns, it was now woven into everyday life:

Dawnfire Rites at Skyspire: farmers kindle nine lanterns—one for each aspect—to bless their fields.

Conch-Prayers at Tide’s Edge: fishermen offer nine shells to Isla before casting nets.

Storm-Dances in Steppya: villagers circle nine stones chanting Guabancex’s ancient verses.

Ash-Walk in Domo’s forges: smiths trace nine embers across the coals before forging steel.

Nightdrift Vigils in Surkia: families light nine bone-lanterns in memory of those passed beyond.

From Blind Times to a Shepherd’s HeartOrdinary WondersThe Nine-Fold Tapestry

“In Burghandia, every breath is borrowed from the past. Every stone placed is a memory returned.

This is a land not just ruled by kings—but shaped by ancestors.

Today, we step beyond temples and thrones— and walk among the living threads of this tapestry.

The people. The hands. The breath.”

“Dawn glows like river jade through the glass mosaic windows of the hilltop villas.

In Vikoria, noble estates rise like carved memories—stone laid atop stone, each beam etched with a name.”

Young nobles awaken beneath embroidered canopies, their sheets stitched with scenes from the Vanishing of Laixax.

Attendants bring bowls of spiced juka mash and stormberry tea, believed to sharpen memory and tongue.

In every estate, there is a Memory Niche—a recess carved into the wall, where ancestor beads hang on braided cords. These beads—white from conch, red from sarda shell, blackened with ash—are touched in silent reverence before the day begins.

“Here, remembering is more than ritual. It is identity. A noble does not step into the day until they’ve whispered a breath back to their lineage.”

“Down the terraced hills and across the stone bridges, the city hums with another kind of rhythm.”

The stone-and-thatch homes of the working folk line the inner rivers of the city. Their porches bloom with shell chimes, and smoke coils from hearths lined with old beadwork talismans.

Children help wash memory gourds—used to record dreams and deeds—while elders prepare cassava loaves and smear protective ash around door frames.

“In the Quarter of Hands, where the masons live, the people say: ‘Even Guabonito wove beads in her youth.’ And so they work—not to build wealth, but to honor the thread they’ve been given.”

“At the peak of day, when shadows hide and the sun sits atop the sky’s spine, Burghandia pauses.”

This is the Fifth Breath, one of the sacred pauses of the day.

From the fertile embrace of gentle plains, through dense whispers of ancient forests, to the silent gleam of hidden riches beneath the earth—Burghandia is a land of profound abundance. Tonight, we explore the bounty that fuels kingdoms, the artisans who shape dreams into reality, and the vibrant trade routes that bind lands and peoples into one thriving tapestry.

The sun rises over fields rippling with golden grain. Farmers, their hands deeply familiar with the soil, nurture crops of wheat, barley, and vibrant produce—lifelines of nourishment and economy alike.

Livestock graze peacefully, providing not only sustenance but commodities vital for trade. In forested realms, towering trees offer timber that shapes cities, fuels fires, and crafts vessels traversing the seas. Beneath the surface, mines rich with iron, copper, and precious gems provide wealth and prestige.

Burghandia is a heart beating at the center of a vast web of commerce. Caravan roads snake across plains, linking distant kingdoms. Ports buzz with ships bearing silks from Vikoria, spices from distant Onoria, and ivory from the shores of Grithium.

Trade fairs, vibrant as festivals, attract merchants from every corner of the known world, exchanging luxuries like velvet and jewels, essentials like grain and metalwork, each transaction weaving threads of prosperity and peace between realms.

Yet, Burghandia’s true wealth lies in the hands of its artisans. Blacksmiths hammer glowing iron into blades renowned across kingdoms. Weavers spin threads into intricate fabrics that tell stories older than memory. Leatherworkers, potters, glassmakers—each guild nurtures its art through meticulous apprenticeship, safeguarding secrets passed through generations.

These artisans create more than mere goods; they forge Burghandia’s identity, propelling innovation, enriching trade, and drawing admirers from far and wide.

At the crossroads of trade lie Burghandia’s bustling cities. Vikoria, with its towering spires and sprawling marketplaces, is a beacon of commerce and culture. Here, the famed Bank of Guarionex manages fortunes, funds expeditions, and ensures the smooth flow of wealth through meticulous record-keeping and prudent lending.

Infrastructure, such as broad stone roads, graceful bridges, and grand marketplaces, accelerates growth, turning Burghandian cities into vibrant hubs of economic vitality and cultural exchange.

Burghandia, a land gifted by nature and shaped by human ingenuity, continues to thrive—a testament to the harmony between resource and craftsmanship, trade and tradition. Each transaction, each crafted good, is a thread woven into a greater story, a tapestry of prosperity that binds the land and its people.

Join us again as we journey further into Burghandia, where every tale enriches the braid of the world.

A Land of PlentyA Network of TradeMasters of CraftThe Heart of Commerce

A City Raised from Memory and StoneWhen the city of Laixax vanished from Earth and emerged in the untouched world of Burghandia, its survivors brought more than memory—they brought mastery, and knowledge. Their temples, Yucabey or Waterways to the villages, and stone forums were marvels shaped by divine influence and practical wisdom.Though the indigenous tribes of Burghandia had built with timber, river clay, and woven canopies, they gazed in wonder at Laixian masonry—vaulted ceilings of coral limestone, tiered plazas that harnessed wind flow, obsidian and crystal mastery, and observatories aligned to star and season. In time, these styles fused.Several visionary minds to the architectural identity flourished in Burghandia:Gurionaxia the Last High Behique, the spiritual leader of Laixax, who preserved the sacred dimensions and geometries of Taino structures in the Breathhalls.Arkon Miralas, an Onorian-born mason and student of Laixian stonecraft, who pioneered the arched Sun-Vault System, allowing massive stone structures to bear vertical weight without collapse.Calat Teveris, the engineer-architect who introduced the Coral-Timber Blend Method—a hybrid system combining Laixian sea-stone with local darkwood beams to construct multilevel sanctuaries and granaries.Lady Ixa of Sulsia, known as the "Weaver of Bridges," whose river-spanning viaducts connected lowland regions using braided root-suspension techniques learned from Sulsian natives and strengthened by Laixian methods.These among other figures, laid the foundation for a visual language that would define Burghandia for generations.The Sacred Sun and the Royal CrownAt the heart of Vikoria stands the Great Shrines of the Sacred Sun, built on foundations drawn directly from the Grand Temple of Luna in Laixax. It was here that the first Coronist clergy held court, and it remains a central pilgrimage site.Its soaring copper dome bears etched depictions of the Nine-Fold Pantheon, but beneath the dome is a woven canopy of golden feather motifs—an homage to Atabeyra and the sky spirits of Laixax.The Royal Palace of Vikoria, built by the Claudian line, exemplifies the fusion of militaristic stone bastions with Taino courtly motifs. Arched windows trimmed with turquoise mosaic depict not saints, but stars and hurricanes. Its throne room, the Chamber of Winds, is circled by wooden columns carved in the shapes of the Nine, their eyes inlaid with Riverstone.The Living SanctumsWhile the cities rose in grandeur, the Breathhalls remained the sacred architectural spine of Burghandia. Open-air and circular, these temples follow the sacred proportion ratios recorded in the Karys Book, echoing the Five Directions of the old world.In Steppya, the Sanctum of the Sky Spiral curves gently with the hillside, forming an amphitheater where prayers are sung into the wind.In Codio, the sandstone Vault of Flame glows under torchlight, built over ancient volcanic veins, with vented skylights that sing when the desert winds rise.On Cacan, the Obsidian Circle honors both Coronist deities and native Drake-spirits with red-tinted basalt statues and a ceilingless ring temple that reveals the stars.Each region adapts the form of faith to their earth—but draw from the breath of Laixax.A Mirror of CultureArchitecture in Burghandia is not merely shelter or status—it is scripture in stone. The blend of Taino ceremonial design and medieval Gothic strength speaks to a nation that remembers what was lost while building something new.Coronist Sanctum-Halls resemble basilicas, but with fire-pits at their heart and smoke vents designed to mimic the breath of the gods. Villager homes retain their dome-shaped Taino thatched symmetry, now reinforced with cobbled stone bases.Even fortresses like Castle Blackwater bear this dual soul: arrow slits shaped like crescent moons, war towers ringed with storm glyphs of Guabancex.This is the genius of Burghandia

"The storm did not consume us. It delivered us." — Inscription on the Temple of the First Water Moon.

To the outside world, the Taíno were believed to have been mostly eradicated—ravaged by diseases brought by European invaders, slain in battle, or victim to their generous hearts. Yet among them stood the city of Laixax: no more technologically advanced than other Taino Islands, But cunning, possessing immense wealth, a fortified city governed by Caciques and a wise council of elders—and something else entirely: the favor and protection of the gods.

Laixans sang the names of the gods. They did not merely worship the divine—it is said they walked with them.

Taíno deities Yocahu, Atabey, Jurakan, Guabancex, and even Moboyas had walked its temples. Under divine watch, Laixax flourished. Scholars charted stars from white cliffs. Laxians rode wind-sailed rowing ships across the turquoise waves, trading obsidian blades, cocoa, and sacred herbs with the people of Cuba, Quisqueya, and the ancient ports of Havana and Borikén. Laixax was not isolated—it pulsed with commerce and culture, a spiritual and economic heart of the ancient Caribbean. The sacred tablets spoke of balance, sacrifice, and the cycle of the skies, inscribed in tongues shared across the sea.

Then the invaders came—large, rugged ships through flame and thunder. The people of Laixax called them "Cacans.", meaning Sea Gods. But the invaders were all too real—bringing steel, gunpowder, and a hunger for conquest. They tore through the lesser islands, silenced the drums, and shattered sacred stones.

As the invading fleet under Commander Miguel Garcia came into view of the capital, the elders of Laixax calmy gathered. They knew this would be the end—not of their people, but of their world.

In the Temple of Luna, Gurionaxia, the last High Priestess, invoked the forbidden rite: the Veil of the Breach—a covenant made with the gods never meant to be spoken. Alongside her stood Krassux, a defiant warrior-Cacique with blood-soaked spears from Quisqueya, Agüeybaná the Cacique of Borikén, who had once believed peace with the conquerors was possible.

Today marks the beginning of Father Alaric's Burghandia adventure. Alaric, a humble yet profoundly devoted priest of the Life Gods, prepares himself spiritually and physically for a sacred pilgrimage. His journey retraces the legendary footsteps of Krassus the Eternal, whose legacy has shaped Burghandia faith, hope, and destiny. The path of Krassus has been taken by many, with most perishing in the attempt. Alaric’s pilgrimage is not merely a test of endurance but a profound inner quest for enlightenment, wisdom, and transformation. Ultimately culminating in his ascension to Rex Pontifex.

Father Alaric begins his pilgrimage at the renowned Temple City of Domo. After years of retreat, praying to the Life Gods, Alaric steps onto the balcony wearing humble robes and carrying only his wooden staff and a precious, carefully protected copy of the sacred Karys Book. He gazes out toward the volcanic landscape, where rugged, windswept shores echo with history. Quietly, he whispers a prayer: "Life Gods, illuminate my path and fortify my heart. Guide me, as you guided Krassus."

Alaric continues his pilgrimage southward and crosses the Green Sea to reach Onoria, the bastion of discipline and honour. Astonished by the majestic Great Walls of Onoria, he meets the honorable King Robert, a ruler caught in a tempest of personal turmoil. After several days of shared walks and deep conversation, Robert, profoundly moved by Alaric’s empathetic counsel, proclaims, "Through honour and discipline, I have found the right path—and the courage to do it anyway." Alaric gently advises him not to let personal desires disturb the peace of his kingdom, cautioning him about the allure of Lady Crismery, whose beauty has set the palace abuzz with whispers. King Robert listens in thoughtful silence, granting Alaric his royal blessing and unwavering support, further solidifying Alaric’s esteemed reputation across Burghandia.

King Robert was the embodiment of strength, nobility, victor, and cunning—a respected monarch reigning from the grand capital city of Onoria, revered for its rich culture, stable governance, and bustling trade. At forty, Robert stood at the peak of his power, ruling alongside the elected Council of Onoria, a symbol of wisdom and stability throughout the land. At his side stood Queen Rose, beloved by all, a beacon of gentleness and virtue. Her beauty was matched only by her kindness, making her cherished throughout Onoria. Together, they had two children—Prince Markus, the courageous talent, and Princess Lucia, whose laughter filled the royal halls. Yet beneath the golden veneer of harmony lay shadows from Robert's past—a previous marriage that had ended in sorrow and separation, leaving deep scars on his eldest daughter, Agrippina. Though now a grown woman, Agrippina carried the quiet sadness of her parents' broken love hidden behind poised smiles and gentle eyes.

Life at court was peaceful until the day Robert encountered Lady Crismery, a young noblewoman whose sheer glance ignited a dormant flame within him. Crismery, hailing from Oaranviia Robert’s hometown, made them friends based on commonalities. Crismery's charm was irresistible, her wit sharp and her allure potent, quickly ensnaring Robert's heart. As their clandestine meetings unfolded, Robert felt an intoxicating blend of passion and anxiety, emotions he'd long believed forgotten. Yet guilt began to claw at his conscience, a constant reminder of the queen's unwavering loyalty. Each stolen glance at Crismery was matched with visions of his family's future pain. Robert considers making Crismery his queen, but The conflict within Robert grows unbearable. Seeking solace, he confided in his beloved Agrippina, who listened patiently though her heart ached deeply. Softly, she reminded her father, "I know the pain of divided parents. Must my siblings bear it, too?" The king’s heart twisted with remorse. Further complicating matters was Crismery herself. Though captivating, her constant references to a former lover planted seeds of doubt in Robert’s mind. He wondered—was her love genuine, or was he simply a pawn in her intricate game?

Centuries ago, a profound division began to emerge in the vast and vibrant lands of Steppya. Guaroa, a noblewoman of remarkable ambition and vision, yearned to unite the disparate city-states under a single banner. Born in the sunny trade hub of Wess, a place where music, festivals, and ancient traditions intertwined, she envisioned a unified kingdom that defied the skepticism of her elders.“The continent is too vast to be ruled by one person,” they cautioned. Yet, Guaroa’s resolve only intensified, and her cunning mind planned.

It all began when Lord Romerk Claudius, an ambitious noble with deep coffers, orchestrated the overthrow of King Manork the Unfortunate—the last scion of the Crop Monarchs. With the aid of heavily armored knights from the volcanic island of Ghritii, Romerk seized Vikoria with cunning and swift precision. Although he never formally declared himself king, he assumed the title “Matatán” and wielded power in all but name.

Realizing that a monarch’s grip on power was fragile without unwavering protectors, Romerk founded the Loyal Guards. These elite warriors were forged from the very fighters who had aided him in Vikoria’s darkest hour. Their name, “Loyal Guards,” has since been lost to history, but their legacy endures as the steadfast shield of the Claudian regime.