The kingdom of Cerano was held by its kings, not because of the strength of their armies or size of their navies, but rather because it was a stretch of land no one wanted. Occupying a narrow strip of rocky coastline punctuated by swamps, it had little to reccomend it. However, it was where the a family with a forgotten name found itself hiding after an exile, the reasons for which are similarily forgotten. A young man in the group named Cerano possessed a broad knowledge of engineering and began supervising the transformation of the province. A combination of deep dredging and stonecarving produced an adequete port (which, it is rumored, served as a hidden base for pirates in the early days of the kingdom). More importantly, an extensive irrigation project produced sufficient farmland and in time produced Cerano's most valuable resource, its vineyards.
Cerano's position for succeeding generations was very tenuous. Its trade, especially in wines, served it well and it's delicate infrastructure was a deterrant to would-be conquerers, as any battle would likely destroy its value. However, that was not a sufficient reassurance, and the Cerano line was forced to be actively diplomatic, frequently seeking protection from more powerful kings. Sensitive to the appearance of being backwater nobility, the Ceranos went to great lengths to adopt the trappings of aristocracy, and in time, this emphasis on appearances became the reality, and the house has come to consider itself to be truly cultured, with much of its history brushed under the rug.
When Oberon came, Cerano surrendered after only token resistance, looking at Oberon as one more strong king to curry favor from. As Oberon's successes accumulated, Cerano became a stronger and stronger (at least, louder) supporter, and under Oberon's rule, they have put great emphasis on how their house was one of the first to throw their lot in with Oberon.
Cerano has thrived under Oberon's rule, some say because there is only one power to be a sycophant before. Whatever the reason, Ceranos are favorites of the court and are well known for setting trends and setting an example for "true nobility."
In northeastern Amber, with the sea to the east and the wilderness to the north, lies an ancient land that calls itself Ildros. The 'I' is elongated, lengthened into an 'ee' sound; the 'r' is rolled; the 's' is sibilant, ended with a hiss. The name was once intended to be spoken in whispers.
Once, this barony was the seat of power of the mighty Wizard-Kings of Ildros. Once, this was the capital of an empire that spanned the far south of Amber.
That time has passed beyond memory into legend. It has been generations since the magic died out of the bloodline of the Kings, and more than a century since Oberon conquered the land. Now, a mere baron sits upon the Basalt Throne.
Once, the Wizard-Kings were mighty sorcerors, able to call fire from the heavens and cause the earth to swallow their enemies. Then, mysteriously, the power of magic began to fade from their bloodline, until finally there was a child born with no magic at all.
And yet the Priest-Servitors of the Wizard-Kings were determined that the populace should continue to respect the powers of the Kings (and of course, logically, the priests who served them). And so it was that the Priest-Servitors learned mighty feats of engineering. Hydraulics opened the temple doors. Great pumps pulled water from the earth. Principles of physics were discovered and refined.
So it is even today. When one enters the great Entrance Hall of the Temple of the Serpent, one is overwhelmed by its grandeur. (The rubies that used to decorate its columns, long sold to pay for the armies of Ildros, will never be missed.) The great bronze doors open smoothly and silently, as if by magic. Upon the alter, a brazier burns eternally. Young virgins in diaphonous robes of blue and yellow weave sinuously along the serpentine path, tending the candles and dispensing words of wisdom and comfort to those who come to meditate, as well as extending the Brass Bowl of Offering, where the devotee will, of course, be expected to make a contribution.
It is a dying land. The great works of construction that dot the landscape of the past still escape, but now the Ildrosi are building them on behalf of others, in foreign lands far from home. They are great builders and engineers, though more adept at fixed structures than mobile engines of war. More and more often, the young stay in Ildros to study, but go elsewhere to seek their fortune.
Ildros is reasonably self-sufficient, though not agriculturally rich. The bulk of the industry is centered around the land's copper and bronze mines, which while not particularly rich, are sufficient to provide the small barony with trade goods.
Ildrosi culture has been getting subsumed by the larger culture of the lands surrounding it for some number of centuries, though the priests desperately try to keep the culture pure; indeed, most Ildrosi are still recognizable by their characteristic accents. Much of this comes from the Ildrosi admiration of the snake, which they exhibit great skill in handling.
Ildrosi have something of a snake fetish, believing them sacred to the Mother Serpent, which they worship as a deity. The serpent figures prominently in their art and jewelry; the worked copper jewelry of Ildros is actually quite popular beyond its borders. Most people keep one or more snakes as pets, which may vary from cute little harmless snakes to man-enveloping giant constrictors. Snake charming is a profitable and respectable profession in Ildros. Some whisper that Ildros also has a secret society of assassins who train poisonous snakes to go out and kill on their behalf, but most educated folk dismiss this as mere fantasy.
The Priest-Servitors understand how to milk poisonous snakes for their venom, and raise them for this purpose. This makes for a healthy legal trade in antidotes, and an even healthier illicit trade in poisons of varying degrees of subtlety.
The current Duke, Cecil Cerano, was a stunningly beautiful young man who is now creeping up on middle age and fighting it every step of the way. He is vain and prone to extravagance on a grand scale. However, he has also proven more cunning than any of his nieces and nephews (He has never married and has no recognized children) who have attempted to have him removed from his position, one way or another.
The Cerano Crest is a Bunch of grapes on gold.
Sarastro is a man of medium height with a shaven head and dark, intense eyes. His skin is smooth and carefully tended, giving little hint as to his age. His speech is slow, every S drawn out, ending consonants carefully enunciated. He has a disconcerting habit of gazing intently upon the person to whom he is speaking.
He is an isolationist, having coped with his land's shrinking influence by withdrawing from the world as much as possible. He spends much of his time in contemplation of the ancient feats of engineering and deeds of magic, and is quite a scholar in this regard. It is, however, believed that Sarastro can assert himself when the need calls for it. He seldom travels outside of Ildros, preferring to send an ambassador, usually drawn from the priest caste, in his stead.