You begin, "I have heard our magnificent society called the 'Silent Empire,' but of course this is a misnomer; we speak on the world stage when there is something vital to say, and not before."
You admit, "Yet there may be something to this moniker, for too few understand the workings of our nation."
You say, "It is a failing I hope to correct in some measure today as I speak of the city and its people, a planned society that looks little like what we see in our region."
You say, "Here in the Landing, we enjoy a free and open society, albeit one with relatively little social structure. Yes, there are Town Council members, a mayor, the stewards, our estimable envoys...but the relationship between these is fluid, particularly with factional powers."
You say, "Even with a nascent Imperial barony nearby, voices of dissent have echoed loudly in the Landing's streets. Although it is a protectorate of a larger empire, Wehnimer's Landing is self-governing; the people elect their mayor, who is seen as a leader but not a ruler."
You say, "The burgeoning 'nation' coalescing around Icemule Trace is similarly inchoate, less structured."
You note, "This is all part of its charm, of course, to many of our residents. Citizens and visitors alike embrace our town precisely for its free-form nature and lack of oversight."
An obese drunken chinchilla suddenly flattens, scurrying for a hiding spot while scanning the sky above in fear. Finally deciding the coast is clear, the chinchilla cautiously makes its way back out of hiding.
Maylan warily picks up the drunken chinchilla by the scruff of its neck, the creature squirming angrily.
Maylan tucks an obese drunken chinchilla into a coarse burlap sack emblazoned with some bubbling Eldreth death-rum design.
You say, "One cannot compare a single town with a nation-state, of course, yet by analyzing how the Landing operates, we may gain insight into the vivid contrast to New Ta'Faendryl that it represents."
You say, "Although its citizens also enjoy a high degree of personal freedom, New Ta'Faendryl is far more structured socially and politically. There is an overarching order to it all, even if that order is sometimes so complex as to appear chaotic to those outside its influence."
You say, "After all, as a friend once said to me, chaos is merely order we have not yet perceived."
You say, "A pity she is not here today to hear me say it."
You chuckle.
(Lylia directs your attention to the meticulously trimmed topiary beasts surrounding the garden with a wave of her hand.)
You say, "Think of it as the difference between a riot of wildflowers growing in a meadow to a formal garden in the heart of a great city. Both have their appeal, perhaps, but one requires a good deal more maintenance, particularly at its borders."
Bakarus glances around the area.
You nod to the shaped topiary.
You continue, "Faendryl society, then, is akin to a well-tended and expansive garden, planned to the last stone in its elegantly curved walkways. At its center is New Ta'Faendryl and the Patriarch, and surrounding him is the five-part Pentact, a system of interdependent governmental entities that support the whole."
Rohese gazes with interest at her surroundings.
Speaking quietly to Melikor, Ysharra says, "She knew I would like that metaphor."
(Lylia illustrates with gestures as she talks, describing concentric arcs.)
You say, "Beyond this central locus of control are smaller communities, including rural regions, and of course the vastness of the Southron Wastes beyond."
You dryly add, "And then, far off in the northernmost reaches, there is the Alabaster Spire."
You say, "Some would even argue that the reason for our artfully organized concentric society is that without such carefully balanced control, we would become a peril to ourselves or others."
You smirk as a haughty expression flits across your face.
You smugly point out, "We seem to have lasted so far, so we are clearly doing something right."
You continue, "And while I could not address such hypotheticals as to why we are organized as we are, I can speak a bit on the nature of how New Ta'Faendryl and the wider region are run and some of the lessons we may take from it."
Rohese lowers her gaze.
Rohese takes a drink from her lavender iced tea.
You explain, "As I mentioned earlier, the apotheosis of Faendryl culture and the incarnation of its majesty is the Patriarch himself, Korvath Dardanus Faendryl."
You place a hand over your heart.
You say, "There is a great deal of misunderstanding about the national regard for the Patriarch, who for many Faendryl is more than merely flesh but embodies our entire nation. With the very person of the Patriarch inheres the majesty, ruthlessness, and indomitable will that define our people."
You say, "He is not a king, nor an elected ruler."
You simply say, "So by definition, the Patriarch is the best among us. If he were not, then he would not be the Patriarch."
You say, "This is one of the most challenging concepts for many people who know the Faendryl of the diaspora, including those of us here in the Landing. Some would consider it a tautology, in fact."
With a subtle tilt of your head, your elegant finger taps lightly at your bottom lip as you lose yourself in thought.
You say, "Others have wondered, 'How could people so arrogant, so convinced of their own superiority, elevate another above themselves?'."
You continue, "Or they wonder what the measure of 'best' might be, or how we can be sure the Patriarch or Matriarch who rules is indeed the most fit."
You say, "There are, after all, many of us capable of leadership, many who are sufficiently brilliant and visionary to rule."
You say, "It is a matter of overall fitness for the age, not merely of rightness. Precisely the right qualities in precisely the right proportion to suit the needs of the time -- that defines the Patriarch or Matriarch of an era."
You nod once.
You say, "Surely, Matriarch I Geniselle Anaya Faendryl, a veritable force of nature who broke a weakened Patriarchy and burnished a Matriarchy to glory, was the most suited to her time. Yet her son Yshryth Silvius Faendryl claimed that mantle himself when he had her beheaded for having committed the capital crime of assassinating a Patriarch."
You point out, "The astute listener will wonder why Yshryth Silvius did not likewise commit the same crime, especially as it was also a matricide."
Maylan blinks.
You stress, "This is precisely what I meant by being the right ruler for the age. Imagine the dread and awe such a bold act inspired! Think of how his people revered him for it!"
You close your eyes for a moment.
You say, "It stirs the heart to recall it."
The ambient light grows attenuated as if the volume of space surrounding you had suddenly expanded, and the low rumble you feel could as easily be a purr as a growl. When you look around, everything seems in its rightful place.
You say, "It was precisely because he was the Matriarch's son that he could be so bold. Only he could have reigned in such a fashion."
You briskly say, "But let us move on from the Patriarchal heart of Faendryl governance to its limbs, the Pentact."
Alisaire looks lost in thought.
You say, "Of course, some of us are familiar with it as we are with our own faces, but for those who are not, I shall elaborate."
You say, "The Pentact, as its name in both Common and Faendryl suggests, consists of five branches, roughly co-equal." She ticks them off on her fingers as she lists them. "Rachis, Armata, Emporion, Agrestis, Clerisy."
You say, "The Rachis is the political and bureaucratic wing of the Pentact. As the branch closest to the Patriarch, they are the most rigidly constrained by custom and law. Otherwise, such power could tip the delicate balance into disarray."
You say, "Often, one of the Patriarch's wives or Matriarch's husbands becomes the Basilican Magistrate, the head of the Rachis. This person holds tremendous personal and political power, which is constrained in direct proportion to that."
You say, "No one knows better than the Faendryl that power must be channeled properly, so the Basilican Magistrate is one of the most scrutinized people in Faendryl society. Again, this preserves the equilibrium that is essential to the Pentact."
You say, "There must forever be checks and balances on that much power placed outside of direct Patriarchal control."
Xorus just arrived.
(Lylia illustrates with her upturned palms, moving them as though they were the trays of a scale.)
You smile at Xorus.
You murmur, "It is not an easy role, by all accounts. And hello, darling."
You say, "As knowledge is power, education is paramount for the Faendryl, and the Clerisy is in charge of it from the earliest schooling children receive to the arcane arts for which we are well known...and sometimes feared."
You smirk as a haughty expression flits across your face.
You say, "Many of the Faendryl you know regionally have deep roots in Clerisy teachings. As a sorceress, my own ties with it are strong, for example."
You say, "As you can imagine, then, those of the Clerisy are not etiolated academics. Many of us are more than capable of self-defense, even of battle."
Shadows distort oddly underfoot, lengthening and creeping in disjointed angles to pool beneath Alisaire's dusky leather boots.
You say, "Students of occult knowledge can rise high in the Clerisy, and we have few proscriptions on types of magic studied or the means of studying it."
You smoothly note, "Shieltine's Ward is an exception, but those of you who do not pierce the veils between valences do not need to know more of it."
(Lylia turns as though physically moving away from that topic itself.)
You say, "Among the Clerisy are most members of the Autochthonic Cartographers' Guild, or Harrowers, as they are colloquially called. Harrowers investigate new valences and explore known ones more fully."
You offhandedly remark, "Fascinating people, Harrowers. Some say they are all a bit warped by their journeys, and more so the longer they travel."
You say, "But we shall travel too and move past our Harrowers."
You smile.
Rohese squirms uncomfortably in place.
Desorceri grins.
You continue, "Some of the wealthiest of us are to be found in the next two wings of the Pentact, the Agrestis and the Emporion. They are also the most far-flung; you cannot have cinnamon groves in a city, nor export goods far afield by staying at home, after all."
You continue, "As interdependent as they are, these divisions also find themselves in opposition at times. That, too, is by design."
You say, "The balance appears delicate, yet it has proven robust not only within New Ta'Faendryl itself, but also in Gellig and among the traders of Behizet, the Jewel of the Wastes, to name a few settlements with which some of you may be familiar."
You say, "The Agrestis, who are our farmers, ranchers, miners, and gardeners, rely on the Emporion traders who distribute and sell what they produce."
You say, "Ysharra may have more to say on this subject in a short while this afternoon."
You add, "And of course, Emporion merchants and artisans, who are sorted into greater and lesser guilds by the nature of the goods in which they trade, depend on the Agrestis for raw materials as well as on some of their Emporion colleagues."
Ysharra turns toward you and renders you a sharp salute with her dark spiced tea.
You say, "Competition sharpens both the Agrestis and the Emporion, allowing the most successful among them to rise to higher stations and greater profits."
You note, "While this is more a personal observation than an official one, I have found Agrestis to be of a more reactionary or traditional frame of mind, while Emporion Faendryl I have known, including many of my extended family, tend to be reformists."
You say, "The final piece of the Pentact, though just as important, is the least seen far from New Ta'Faendryl and our own lands. That is the Armata, our military force."
You say, "Most of us, of course, are capable fighters individually."
You say, "But the Armata are well trained to move as one in combat. Guardians of the City, for example, are tasked with dispatching any wayward entities that shamble or lurch toward the heart of New Ta'Faendryl instead of to the Demonwall."
You say, "Their experience with these powerful demons makes them particularly well suited to the Cartographers' Guild as Harrowers, whom I have mentioned earlier. You may recall that I said many were Clerisy originally, but not all; many grow from Armata roots."
(Lylia pauses for a moment, her eyes narrowed in thought.)
You say, "This brings me to a crucial point about the Pentact and the Faendryl who comprise it, one of the most important lessons we can learn here on the Landing."
You add, "And I daresay the people of Northwatch as well, at least those entities that are sentient."
You say, "An Armata Guardian can become a trained Harrower, part of the Clerisy."
You flatly declare, "In other words, the Pentact is emphatically not a caste system."
You stress, "We are not bound by birth or circumstance to one path but may instead become what is best suited to us, and what we suit best."
(Lylia glances at the lengthening shadows, but doesn't seem to be thrown off her narrative stride.)
You say, "In fact, the concept of immutable castes is anathema to most Faendryl. It is our goal as a culture to strive, to seek the highest level of achievement. It allows us to adapt, which we have had to do particularly in Exile."
You firmly say, "Status among the Faendryl is earned, not granted by birth alone, although a noble or wealthy family is inevitably an advantage. We are a competitive people because competition hones us."
You ask, "With such competitive natures and such ambition to rise above, how are we not ripped asunder, you might wonder? Dissent must surely tear at the social fabric of even Faendryl society, yes?"
You give your eyebrow a little workout.
You simply counter, "No."
You survey the area.
You smile quietly to yourself.
You say, "I see some surprised looks. Yes, even in a formal garden, there is some natural variation, some disarray at a finer scale even if the whole is perfectly symmetrical. It is part of the garden's beauty; otherwise, it would be lifeless and sterile, a work of artifice without true grace."
A multitude of barely audible whispers reach your ears, promising knowledge and power for anyone who calls upon them. After a few moments of cajoling, the sourceless whispers fade to silence one by one.
You say, "Dissent exists among all people, including the Faendryl. While a Patriarch or Matriarch may seek to crush all dissent, there inevitably comes a moment that in the crushing, too much of value is lost."
You continue, "Wise Patriarchs stop short of this point, instead making accommodations for dissidents and political unrest while subtly keeping them in check. And as noted previously, Patriarchs who become unwise are no longer Patriarchs."
You simply observe, "They no longer fit the needs of their era."
You realize there are some important matters you should tend to . . . later.
You assert, "No 'secret' organization is hidden to the Patriarchal gaze because these groups are not banned but allowed to simmer, although never to boil over."
You say, "In a society built on competition, such groups are alembics from which new ideas can bubble up, ideas that may advance understanding in some way."
You say, "And although we have no Patriarch or Matriarch here, no ruler, we do have authority and dissent, each in balance. Each serves a purpose, and each can be turned to the greater good."
You conclude, "Thus, Faendryl rule is the model by which all communities, great and small, may be run."
You incline your head.
You say, "Thank you for allowing me to wax poetic about my home for a time."
You ask, "Are there any questions?"
You put your hand to your heart and incline your head in an eloquent and distinctly Faendryl gesture of acknowledgement.
Maylan raises her hand.
Speaking to Maylan, you ask, "Yes?"
Speaking to you, Maylan says, "You said the Spire was somewhere, but I thought this was the Spire."
You say, "This is the Spire."
You say, "And we are indeed somewhere."
Maylan blinks at you.
Alisaire wryly says, "Indeed."
Maylan blurts, "Okay!"
You explain, "We are at the center of our own grounds here, but we are very far away from the Faendryl imperium."
You say, "So, from the perspective of New Ta'Faendryl, we are quite far from civilization as we know it."
You admit, "I believe any empire or great nation-state sees itself at the center of civilization. We are no exception."
You quip, "The difference is that for some of us, we are right to think so."
Maylan raises her hand.
You nod at Maylan.
You ask, "Mm?"
(Rohese tentatively raises her hand but quickly lowers it as Maylan asks a question.)
Speaking to you, Maylan asks, "If a Patriarch kills a Patriarch and is guilty of the crime of killing a Patriarch, they are executed?"
Speaking to you, Maylan asks, "And the Patriarch who does the execution becomes the Patriarch but they are also guilty of killing a Patriarch, and so they are also executed?"
You say, "This is a complicated matter dependent on the needs of the era, you could say. It is not something likely to happen in the modern era; Yshryth Silvius made the slaughter of fellow Faendryl illegal. Which was very convenient for him that he did so after committing matricide."
Ysharra says, "That would be efficient in terms of justice, but a little clunky for governance."
Desorceri says, "There's a difference between assassinated and executed by law."
You say, "Yes, just so."
You nod at Desorceri.
Speaking to Desorceri, Maylan says, "I spose that's a true."
You say, "I have not even discussed the Laurentiu faction, but of course, there is not time to go into all of it."
You give a sidelong glance at Rohese.
Rohese blushes sheepishly to herself.
Speaking to Rohese, you ask, "Did I see a slender hand rise for a moment, or did my eyes deceive me?"
Speaking uncertainly to you, Rohese posits, "More of a statement than a question really but would you agree that the Ta'Illistim structure of rule - one which is diametrically opposed to that you just discussed - works just as successfully?"
Desorceri asks, "Who doesn't love a guillotine in the square?"
Guarrin raises his hand.
You raise your voice in merry laughter.
You say, "Asking the most challenging questions in the most gracious of ways."
Speaking softly to you, Rohese adds, "And if so, why do you think that is?"
Rohese bites her lip.
Desorceri turns an inquisitive ear toward you.
Desorceri whispers, "No pressure."
You say, "Its longevity has proven its success, so yes, I would have to say that Illistimi governance is another successful model -- but I do not see it as so different, as the power structure inheres with a central figure."
You say, "As opposed to, say, the local method of elections and campaigning."
Speaking graciously to you, Rohese counters, "One reflects the wishes of the people while the other directs. Yes?"
You say, "Which I have enjoyed thoroughly and even sampled, but which is truly far different from Elven and Turamzzyrian monarchic structures."
You say, "Even in this, they are not so far apart. The Patriarch directs, but always toward the cardinal points that are the wisest direction for the nation."
You say, "Again, the fittest for the era, the man or woman of the age."
A stygian lichstone beveled in a coffin shape revealing its shadowed heart, which is set against Desorceri's forehead, glitters brightly for a few moments.
Desorceri raises his hand.
Speaking to Guarrin, you ask, "I believe I saw you had a hand up as well?"
Speaking to you, Guarrin says, "Yes, thank you for the insightful discussion. I did have a question."
Speaking to you, Guarrin asks, "'You had mentioned that the Patriarch is the best of you. How do you ensure that they still remain so? Is it their ability to...survive in the role? Or are there are other evaluations?"
You say, "Well, you did put your finger on one of the most important characteristics."
You grin at Guarrin.
You diplomatically say, "A Patriarch who no longer leads the people in the best possible direction must understand this and step down, or a more fit Patriarch will rise and naturally assume the high curule seat."
You say, "This also refers to the dissent I spoke of earlier, and there will always be those who heretically believe they know best."
Speaking to you, Guarrin says, "Historically is there a typical time frame? I am curious if there is anything cyclical."
You say, "Such people serve their purpose in the larger design too."
Bakarus says, "See you all soon, wonderfully done."
Melikor says, "Thank you for coming."
Speaking to Desorceri, you ask, "I believe you had a question too?"
Desorceri nods to you.
Speaking to you, Desorceri asks, "The Faendryl are well-known for melding elemental and spiritual magic often disregarding mental magic. What are your thoughts whether personal, or in regard to the Armata, or New Ta'Faendryl as a whole?"
Speaking to Guarrin, you say, "Times may be short, or they may be long. There have been intervals of chaos in the distant past in which there were Patriarchs -- and possibly Matriarchs -- in such quick succession that history itself can barely keep up."
Speaking to Desorceri, you say, "Asking the tough questions."
You grin at Desorceri.
Desorceri says, "Can't let Rohese be the only one."
Speaking to herself, Maylan says, "Prolly cause patriarchs kept assasinating each other fer the crime of assassinating a patriarch."
Speaking reluctantly to Maylan, Rohese acknowledges, "In fairness, Ta'Illistim has seen it's fair share of hypocrisy over the millennia."
Speaking to Desorceri, you say, "I would answer personally rather than as a wider representative of Faendryl thought that mentalism is half a charade. Not that charades cannot serve a purpose too, but I hold little truck with mentalism as I find it uncomfortably close to lying, which I prefer not to do. I can impose my will without imposing my world-view, if this makes sense."
You say, "And as for the Armata, I hold them in the highest regard, of course."
You caution, "My views on mentalism are my own, of course. I do not speak with the Patriarch's voice on the matter, to be sure."
You ask, "I hope that answers the question satisfactorily?"
Desorceri says, "Fair response. The general attitude of the Nation is an interesting one for sure."
You ask, "Are there any other questions I could answer?"
You say, "You certainly may."
Alisaire says, "This has been quite the engaging discussion."
Ysharra asks, "I am afraid that I must be away, but I hope to see everyone soon in the Mist Harbor Library?"
You warmly say, "Thank you for being here and for listening to me."