Fjelstad is a barony found north of Arden and on the coast. Its coast shares the rocky, unnavigable attributes that are generally found north of Kolvir, along the greater part of that coastline.
It is home to a hard people, used to pulling a living out of bare rock and braving that rugged coastline in order to pull fish out of the ocean. Fish is very much a staple of the diet; they fry it, poach it, stew it, and do all manner of unspeakable things to it. They also salt it; the salted fish of Fjelstad is all too often the staple of a sailor or soldier's diet. It's said that the broken, rocky coastline is also ideal for smugglers, though it seems more likely to be a hideout for desperate men on the run from the law. The barony maintains a small coastal waters defense force, not large enough to be worth calling a fleet.
Fjelstad is also home to a number of granite quarries, providing excellent building stone, though the expense of transporting it drives up the prices. There's also one good place to mine a superb but limited quantity of quartz. The barony is not wealthy, but neither is it poor; it is merely extremely difficult to extract worthwhile riches out of its land, and the rocky soil won't support much in the way of agriculture.
Fjelstad has fended off the occasional warlike encroachment from its neighbors by becoming very, very good at its own defense. The pikemen of Fjelstad are well known for their valor, and the rugged terrain of Fjelstad is an ugly, unpleasant place to fight a battle, for the natives know the best places for ambushes and are superb at popping up from behind a rock, killing a few men, and then disappearing back into the hills. The hounds of Fjelstad, too, are much prized; sold as pups, they make excellent hunting hounds or dogs of war, known for their aggressiveness and cunning.
Politically, Fjelstad primarily consists of fishing villages under local leadership, often along family lines. But the village headmen are ultimately responsible to the Baron, who requires a brief period of military training of young men of the appropriate age, a process which tends to instill a certain amount of loyalty. Traditionally the Barons have ruled through strength of will and the willingness to pound into the ground any upstart headman who might have ambitions of displacing him. Occasionally headmen have succeeded in doing this, which makes the hereditary position of Baron less secure than it otherwise might be.
Because it's a rather grim and forboding place to grow up, without much to look forward to in life unless one has a deep and abiding fondness for fish or rocks, many of the young men of Fjelstad have been tempted into departing for the cities, or enlisting in Amber's armed forces.
Fjelstad's current Baron is Kord.
Granlibakken is found to the immediate east of Savoy; being a Duchy, it is much larger than its smaller western neighbor.
Granlibakken wants to be civilized. It tries very hard. There are towns. There are cities. There is trade. There are laws. People understand how to eat with a fork. There is poetry, and art, and music. There is still a sense that pervades, however, that Granlibakken is the frontier -- which is entirely true; it just happens to be the place that best helps you forget that, in the Farlands.
All in all, Granlibakken seems like a fairly ordinary place -- a frontier working its way towards civilization. The citizens are amiable, not having yet entirely lost their frontier folksiness for townsfolk brusqueness. In attempting civilization, however, Granlibakken has let a little bit of crime and murder seep into its cities... in the end, though, that's excusable.
The duchy's great expanse of land supports agriculture, forestry (though there's nothing remarkable about the quality of the wood, it's merely plentiful), and superb hunting, including an active fur industry. It's the kind of place where people sing Cheerful Logging Songs.
Granlibakken does not have a military force of note, though it can readily raise a militia of able-bodied men. Towns have a Watch, though, so law and order is kept.
Homewood is the duchy belonging to the Dorr family, currently headed by Logan Dorr. It is distinguished for two reasons: it is located deep and entirely within Arden, at the midway point of the largest route through the forest, and it is one of the larger Duchies in existence, claiming a full third of the land along that route as its own.
In the days before Oberon's coming, this was a single land of great moors populated by cattle-raising clans, the kingdom of Carathrion. Raids and wars between the clans were commonplace. The complicated genealogy resulting from interbreeding between clans as alliances swung over the centuries meant that cousin fought cousin more often than not. It was a lusty life, breathed in great healthy lungfuls of air, with plenty of exercise to be had from swinging around huge swords and running away from people swinging around huge swords.
The king in those days held the crown so long as he could hold at least the nominal loyalty of the majority of the clans. It was not a strong position, and it was not a strong kingdom, but no one wanted the land badly enough to contend with the warriors of Carathrion, who could sense a common enemy when they saw one. The shifting alliances between the clans occasionally meant that a clan war might erupt in the midst of a war against a foe on their borders, though, which always made for interesting military situations.
The old King, Erek Vell, was rather indifferent as to who ruled to his south. If Oberon wanted an ally, Oberon could have an ally. His warriors were hungry for plunder, and if plunder could be had to the south, that was all that he needed to hear. The warriors of Carothrian -- giants of men, bearded and tattooed, berserkers with enormous swords and little grasp of tactics, skilled riders when mounted upon their huge tempestuous war-horses -- were Oberon's to use, fighting for gold and glory.
But there were still tensions. The king's sons, Gundra and Tallac, were always feuding. They had married into the two dominant rival clans of the kingdom, to solidify their father's political alliances. Sent away to foster with those clans at a young age, their primary loyalties were to the clans, and they both loved and hated each other. Little brawls were always breaking out amongst the Carathrion contingent, but as long as they were kept in hand, it was nothing serious. ut upon the field of battle, at a major, crucial point in the war, disaster struck. It had begun with an exchange of words, and then a few fistfights and some broken bones late in the camp one evening. Accusations of cowardice were made. Vengeance was vowed. Oberon had chosen to use part of the Carothrian contingent as shock troops that battle, sending them in to charge an important position, powerful knights representing some of the wealthiest nobles fighting against Oberon. He gave that responsibility to Gundra and his clansmen.
Eager for blood and plunder, Gundra led his men in advance of Oberon's orders, charging the position unsupported, and disrupting the strategy for the battle. The enraged clansmen under Tallac's command, believing that their rivals would receive all the glory that should be rightfully due to them, went right after them, rather than being held in reserve, as Oberon had intended. There was carnage, as the Carothrians overran the enemy position (taking far heavier losses than they should have in the process). Though Oberon's forces carried the day, their losses were far heavier than they should have been. Following the battle, a grand glorious brawl broke out between the clansmen, as they fought over the right to loot the bodies of the fallen. When Oberon sent more of his soldiers to try to break up the fight, they, too, were attacked.
Enraged, Oberon called for Piero, the Black Sorceror, and told him to do something about it -- permanently. Piero called down a terrible curse upon all those of Carothrian blood.
To this day, Oberon does not speak of the curse, nor do any Carothrians; the latter believe that by speaking of it, they will lend it greater strength.
Oberon was not as pleased as he could have been by his wizard-henchman's creativity, but it did put a near-stop to the use of deadly force in feuds between the clansmen.
After the war, Oberon decided that it would be best if he clove the kingdom of Carothrian into two duchies. He gave the western half, now called Cadon, to Tallac; the eastern half, now called Rothrion, went to Gundra. Oberon has since encouraged the feud between the clans to continue at a low simmer, figuring that as long as they were busy thinking about each other, they wouldn't go looking for something new to conquer. Overt violence still sometimes breaks out at the border, as well as between smaller clans within the borders of each duchy, but it is now less frequent; the curse, it is said, has some part in that.
Mercenaries from Caddon and Rothrion can still be found fighting in whatever wars come up, and Oberon knows he can rely upon these men for his armies.
Caddon and Rothrion are nominally allied, and often choose to present a single face to the world. The brothers Vell feel that they have more in common with each other than with anyone else, and they haven't yet entirely gotten used to the idea that they now have two duchies rather than a single kingdom. Of course, it did save old King Erek the trouble of determining a succession, too.
There are no towns, per se, in Carathrion. Each of the brothers has a fort, and there are usually representatives of one or more clans camped out there, as well as a merchant contingent and the like, but that's about as close to civilized as it gets.
A land of picturesque villages and quaint towns, Savoy lies near the north edge of Arden. There is a touch of fae to it, a touch of wildness, a touch of mystery that makes this land of majestic forest and great roaring rivers and snow-capped hills into the sort of place where one steps cautiously around any suspicious-looking ring of mushrooms, and makes the sign of the ward against evil when a black cat crosses one's path.
Savoy is home to some of the best woodcarvers in Amber, with a tradition of furniture-making and the craftsmanship of wooden decorative items. Otherwise, much of its economy comes from agriculture, and the herding of sheep and goats. Its terrain is difficult to manuever an army through, making it defensible with a relatively small force.
They speak of the Witches of Savoy, though, women born to command the forces of nature, cloud the minds of men, and to see the future. Perhaps this is legend and perhaps this is reality, for a witch does not declare herself. She may be the village wise-woman or the barmaid at the local tavern or the cloistered daughter of a nobleman. Respected, admired, and feared, no one crosses a suspected witch.
Too, there are the medicine-women, the herbalists skilled in gathering plants from the forest to brew into potions and distill into poultices, to heal and to poison. In Savoy, it's said that every other plant holds the promise of pleasure or agony, and the barony does brisk trade in medicinals and other plants of more dubious nature.
In the midst of this pastoral landscape, Savoy politics are relatively civilized. Poison is a commonplace way to deal with one's enemies, and it's considered quite rude to murder someone in public.
Situated upon one of the north edges of Arden, Tanauril is heavily forested, supplying hardwoods to the building industries of Amber. Logging forms the basis of its economy, and its people are the sorts one expects to encounter in this kind of environment. Life is simple, strength is valued, and nature receives the utmost respect.
The people of Tanauril are superstitious, believing that the ghosts of the cut trees haunt their forests, and must be appeased by many rituals. The least savory of these is human sacrifice, performed upon each solstice with great ceremony and solemnity. Officially, Amber does not acknowledge its existence, but it is an open secret, though it is performed only the presence of those properly sanctified. Tanauril goes to great lengths to obtain proper sacrificial victims, who must be born under the correct phase of the moon and have whatever characteristics the oracles have decreed appropriate for the next solstice. As the victims need not be natives, represents of Tanauril often go quietly abroad to seek appropriate ones to bestow this "honor" upon.
Militarily, Tanauril has few forces to speak of, but fighting through the forests is an unpleasant proposition at best, especially since the natives known the land thoroughly and are perfectly comfortable utilizing ambushes, archery, and perhaps some mystical properties of the forest itself to destroy any who dare intrude without permission.
Tanauril is currently ruled by Sejak.
Logan Dorr is a crusty old forrester who has carved out his living deep within the heart of the forest Arden. His Duchy is called Homewood and it is crucial to trade relations with the Far Lords and the continental Outer Kingdoms.
Alyra Dorr, Daughter to Logan, Engaged to Benedict
Alyra is a spirited young girl in her early teens. She was recently engaged to Prince Benedict.
Ismerelda, Dowager Baroness of Savoy
When Baron Stefan married this raven-haired beauty of peasant birth, it was whispered that she was a witch. Where she came from, who are parents are -- these exact details are unknown. Plague struck Savoy during Ismerelda's childhood, and her village, supposedly, was one of those wiped out by the disease. But others claim that she was born directly out of the dark heart of Arden.
Yet it seemed to be a match of love -- the aging Baron Stefan enchanted with his young and beautiful wife, the low-born Ismerelda dazzled by the charm and wit and education (and power, it's whispered) of the old Baron. She bore him a child, Ivan, just a year into their marriage, and the boy was a mere three years old when the Baron died peacefully in his sleep. There were yet more whispers -- witchcraft, poison -- but Ismerelda wept well, and the dissenters were silenced in various ways.
Somehow she manuevered her way to having herself declared the boy's regent. For over ten years, she has ruled Savoy with a firm hand in Ivan's name. It is said that, as a woman ruling a traditionally male-dominated kingdom, she has been harsher than a man might be in her position, in order to prove that she is not weak. Others say, however, that any man with half a brain could clearly see that Ismerelda is a match for any man, and that she is harsh because she enjoys being so. Whoever is right, Ismerelda is a woman to be respected.
Approaching middle age has not faded Ismerelda's beauty; if anything, it has lent dignity, elegance, and wisdom to her bearing, which has become regal. Tall, statuesque, she wears her jet-black hair in a braid extending down to her waist, and is a vision of calm self-assurance.
Ivan, Baron of Savoy (A Far Lord)
Now in his teens, Ivan will come of age in a few years, and will hold the barony in his own right. He is quiet and serious, thoughtful, polite, and, at least in public, thoroughly dominated by his strong-willed mother. He has been heavily sheltered, rarely allowed to leave the borders of his barony, as his mother handles all dealings with external forces. Of late, though, it is rumored that he is increasingly sulky and rebellious about the puppet role he must play until he comes of age. (Still others say that Ismerelda plans to poison him before then...)
Baron Stefan was a short and burly man; Ivan, by contrast, takes after his mother. In adulthood, he is likely to be tall, though he has not yet achieved his full growth; he is not yet quite of a height with his mother, and he has her spare build and elegant poise. His features are sharply drawn, fine-boned, and he has his mother's dark hair and eyes; his resemblance to the deceased Baron is noticeable yet superficial, given how much like his mother he looks. He does not yet have his man's voice, though his tones are low, smooth, and cultured, and adolescence seems to be coming very late for him.
(It would, of course, not be beyond Ismerelda to raise her firstborn daughter as a boy... but that's the kind of rumor-mongering that results in one ending up drowning mysteriously.)
His crest is simple crimson on charcoal, with a miniature crown of silver in the midst of a crimson band.
Sejak, Baron of Tanauril (A far lord)
Sejak is a planner -- one of those men who never speaks unless he has already planned out the entire conversation in his mind, and has convinced himself he is going to win. Consequently, he is a taciturn man. What he does not say cannot be used against him, and it keeps his enemies guessing. And what others say into the uncomfortable silence is always revealing.
He is a strange man to lead this kingdom of primitivist superstition. He is still relatively young, born after the conquest by Oberon. His father wanted his son to be an educated man, able to function in this new land that was being forged. He studied at the Academy, and has since tried to bring more "modern" methods to his barony. He is regarded with some suspicion by his people. He desires to silence some of the muttering by taking for his wife, the eldest daughter of the most powerful of Tanauril's druids, though it is not yet clear whether or not he will succeed in doing so.
Though under normal circumstances he has the same rough-hewn exterior as the rest of his people, he can, when he wishes, behave in an extremely cultured manner. He is always eager for news of the outside world -- but reluctant to tell of his barony in return.
He is a plain man, unremarkable in appearance; no one would think twice passing him in virtually any situation, assuming he was appropriately attired. Plain brown hair with a hint of curl, a light beard, eyes of a greenishly nondescription shade, and no special distinguishing features make him the kind of man who can and does blend with the background.
His crest is a dark green tree upon a lighter green background.
Kord, Baron Fjelstad (A Far Lord)
The third of his family to rule, he is a grim-faced man, weather-worn from a life spent at sea, no-nonsense, rarely at court, and rather curt to those he deals with, when he is. He prefers to play the role of the naive backwater bumpkin, but the more astute realize that his rough exterior and blunt speech are merely cover for a mind that is ruthless, single-minded in its focus, and dauntlessly courageous. It is his thundering voice that often calls for the bullshit to be cut in any political debate at court (which he loathes attending); he generally favors the application of force to cure any given situation, or at least that's what he publicly advocates. He is terrifying when angry, and only marginally less so when drunk -- the two often go together, for that matter. This has fueld a rumor that Kord is a berserker, though that has never been proven out (at least not in front of surviving witnesses).
He is slightly below average height, but built big, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He seems to resent his short stature, though, especially in a land that grows 'em big, and when he can, he controls his setting so he can appear taller than those he deals with.
His crest is silver on blue, depicting a fish leaping over a rock in a pool.
Duke Ruana Logoth, Lord of Granlibakken
Logoth allied with Oberon voluntarily, seeing him as a unifying influence that would later result in a more civilized world. Logoth is a great fan of civilization.
He is an older man, whose frontier ways are usually well-covered by a studied urbanity. He has not traveled as much as he might wish, but he has made a great effort to be cultured. Indeed, he counts Duke Tarraign as a friend. Logoth does not have Tarraign's mind, but he does share his passion for knowledge, and adds to it a near-obsession with bringing Civiliation to the Wilderness.
He is usually genuinely friendly, good-natured, a believer in the law but also dedicated to justice. He does his best to be cooperative with others, and to treat his people well. He is aware that politics sometimes results in unpleasantness, but he does his best to suppress all of his nastier instincts. In this, he mostly succeeds, though the frontier does demand harshness at times.
Logoth has a large family. He adores his wife, as well as most of his children. He does his best to make his eldest children useful, sending them off on missions within the boundaries of the duchy as well as farther out. Indeed, he has encouraged his children to attend the Academy, and thinks it's important for them to get to know the wider world. He has Plans, Long-Term Plans, for Granlibakken's future, knowing that someday, it could be a major trading gateway between Amber and the Outer Kingdoms to the north.
Gundra Vell, Clan-Chief and Duke of Rothrion
People's first impression of this man is usually that he has more brawn than brains. While this would be correct, it is only by virtue of the fact that Gundra is so much of a He-Man that he would need to be an intellect on the level of Duke Tarraign. Gundra claims that he can out-fight, out-drink, and out-wench any man in his duchy, and no one has been foolish enough to challenge that claim. He has fathered a passel of bastards upon an array of women; these men form his personal guard.
He has little interest in the politics of the outside world, preferring to focus his attention upon keeping his clans under control. His court, such as it is, is rough-and-ready and entirely informal, and he is really most at home on the battlefield.
Gundra is a superstitious man. The magic of neighboring Tanauril terrifies him. Indeed, given his encounter with Piero, Gundra would just as soon see any and all wielders of magic dead, and will take any excuse available to expedite this.
Tallac Vell, Clan-Chief and Duke of Caddon
The younger brother of Gundra, with neither his height nor his breadth (though he is still bigger than most men, impressive even for a man of Carathrion), but what he lacks in sheer size he makes up in sheer viciousness. His reckless and greedy nature is usually tempered by cunning. He is prone to anger -- not quite a berserker rage, but his fury is frightening to behold, especially since he usually feels the need to damage something, and if no furniture is available, people make an acceptable substitute.
He enjoys politics, and is more than happy to provide his brother with advice on how to deal with the outside world. The threat of force is never far behind his words, and Oberon keeps a careful eye on him, given that Tallac seems to think that one despotic ruler-from-afar is as good as another and could readily sell out to the highest bidder.
Tallac, unlike his brother, has done some travel that wasn't related to marching someplace to kill people, and has a much broader view of the world. He is better educated, and can even manage a semblance of culture when he actively makes the attempt.
Erek Vell
The old King is now in a well-deserved retirement, shuttling between the duchies of his son to offer the occasional bit of unsolicited advice and to demonstrate his continued good health and virility to pretty milkmaids with long braids.