The Wives of Barago

Another post about Lon Barago, but also a continuation of Forms of Government.

History

King Barago was the first king of Lon Barago.  After his death, his son ruled, and his son after that.

But with each generation, the wisdom of Barago faded, and his bloodline thinned.  Anabriss, the second wife of Barago, was wise in the ancient arts of the earth, and knew of a method by which the bloodline may be restored. She was the first Wife of Barago. The old widow orchestrated all that followed.

The current king of Lon Barago (the grandson) was led out into the woods. His tongue was cut out and he was fed leshy grapes, so that he would live out the rest of his days as a beast. From then on, he was given to the royal swineherd for keeping. (Although he would recover some of his faculties at the Isle of Pigs, much later.)

A princess of Asria was selected to become the next Wife of Barago. Her name was Immidia. The royal tombs were opened, and Immidia lay with the corpse of Barago. When she was discovered to be pregnant, it was declared that she would be the steward of the throne until her son was old enough to rule.

Other women were married to Barago in the same way. Some were of noble birth. Others were of common birth, elevated quickly and secretly by Anabriss. The new wives lay with the great patriarch in the same way, and concieve in the same way. There are many Wives now, and many Sons.

Thus was the bloodline restored.

Present Day

In the highest tower of the Aurubel, you will find the Wives of Barago. They meet in a green-carpeted room. There are nine of them. A new Wife is selected at intervals known only to the Wives. Sometimes a decade may elapse without any new Wife. Other times a two are selected in a single year. New Wives may be selected from the political elite. Or they may be selected from among the common folk.

The King of Lon Barago is always a Prince of Barago, selected by the Wives from among their children. (On a several occasions, a Princess of Barago was elevated in a similar way. In the most famous example, Princess Heliota was crowned King Heliota, and later took a wife from among the dukes of Hawkwind.)

The Kings of Lon Barago do not need to worry about producing worthy heirs, or educating them. That is all taken care of by the Wives. And at any given time, there are several Children of Barago in the green-carpeted tower, being educated and appraised by the Wives. Only the most exceptional are even given this honor.

So great is the power of the Wives, that they have even commanded the current king to step down, in order that a favored son may be installed.

The authority of the Wives is the authority of Barago. The women are all necromancers of no small talent. They have conjured Barago on at least three occasions in order to reinforce their decisions.

The offspring of Barago are pale, which befits their unnatural conception. During full moons they fall into deep slumbers, and cannot be awakened. They suffer from seizures and are predisposed to suck their thumbs when they are thinking. Those who are not selected to become king are often given positions in the king's cabinet. Several are sent to the White Temple or the (now destroyed) Red Temple. Most are infertile, but some have gone on to have children of their own.

The Wives are intensely private, and their inner workings are closely guarded. It is known that seniority and necromantic ability play a role in a woman's authority within the Green Tower. The Wives are not commonly seen except at holidays and festivals, where several of them occupy ceremonial roles.

One Princess of Barago is Barileah, who is an accomplished bard. She has published a small book of poetry called The Silver River Songs.

Fia, from Elden Ring

Discussion

The commonly accepted opinion is that Wives are a cabal of necromancers who have established a way to perform post-organic conception, and that everything is as it seems. Their children certainly seem to share many features, which supports the possibility.

The alternate theory is that the Wives are deceiving the whole city. Women are indoctrinated into the Green Tower as needed. The wives spend an uneventful night sleeping in the tomb. Pregnant women are fed certain herbs to ensure that the child is born with pale skin. The necromantic events are falsified or exaggerated--certainly no great necromantic demonstrations have occurred in the last living generation. In this respect, they would be no different from any other oligarchy, being the center of power in a system that includes the Church, the nobility, and the even the king.

[sidebar] Necromancy is not considered immoral by the Church. What is immoral is the raising of the dead, since it requires unclean spirits to be invited into a corpse.[/sidebar]

If it is all true, however, there is one last agent who has not been well-considered thus far: the first king himself.  Is he well-represented by the Wives?  They were created to address a current political need.  Or is the old king frustrated by the Wives, his true wishes twisted by their machinations?

And of course, the Church already takes a dim view of necromancy under the best circumstances.  Their acceptance of royoal necrogeniture in Lon Barago was a necessary concession made to secure peace at the end of a war.  If the Church grows strong enough in Lon Barago, they may succeed in breaking the Green Tower entirely.

More Government in Centerra

This is a continuation of an earlier post.

Dungeonocracy: The Revanwall Kings

The tribes of the Revanwall coast are pagans who worship the Revaydra, a living mountain.  During times of peace, the mountain dwindles.  The sides become smoother and the stones fade to blue, and mosses grow over the summit as the altitude drops.  Dreams stop appearing to the tribe's shamans.

During times of war, the mountains swells and darkens.  New peaks grip the sky like claws, and dark clouds die in its grip.

Every king of the Revanwall tribes is given back to the mountain, buried in a cave near the peak which is believed to swallow him.

After the king is swallowed, all the caves on the mountainside slide lower, and the dungeon inside grows.  The dungeon grows a new level, that corresponds to the newly buried king.  His body becomes the dungeon, and will tend to follow the shape of the king's body.  For example, the level that appeared after the death of Ivak the Legless was said to be smaller than average.

Each floor is stocked with the trappings of the king's life.  Scenes are recreated, and people from their memories are imitated (sometimes well, sometimes poorly).  Enemies, both real and imagined, are recreated as well.

Somewhere in the dungeon is the crown.  It is never on the floor corresponding to the dead king, but always somewhere deeper.  Whoever returns with it will crown the next king.

It is customary for each tribe to allow their neighbors time to explore the dungeon in order to find their crown.  But there have been times when multiple tribes have plumbed the dungeon simultaneously, during honorless wars, or when two kings have died at the same time.

It is less chaotic than it seems.  

Generally, all the tribes work together to keep outsiders away from the Revaydra, and only allow one or two parties in at a time.  The mountain is sacred.

Furthermore, it is very difficult to find the crown without a good knowledge of the dead king's personality, his life history, and where he would think to hide a crown.  Because this sort of knowledge tends to cluster closely to a particular tribe, outsiders have an even more difficult time making progress within the great mountain.

Large armies, and those who show disrespect to the mountain, are swallowed by the steep jaws of the mountain.

by Timofey Stepanov

Pure Plutocracy: Bar Chakka

The Beastfolk have a simple form of democracy.  One gold coin, one vote.

Voting is held at the Cloud's Fountain, a natural spring inside the royal compound.  Once the exact terms of the vote have been decided on, and the vote has been pared down into a single yes/no question, the vote is held.

Voters walk down the dock to the middle of the Fountain, display their gold to the authenticators, announce their vote to the tally-beasts, and then throw their coin into the Fountain with as much pomp as they can muster.

There is applause.  There are jeers.

If a great amount of gold is deposited at once, it may take a very long time for all of it to be authenticated and counted.  This has happened for votes in the past, when there is a high amount of public interest.

Voting days are also festival days.  Many have traveled across the island in order to cast their coins into the Fountain.  What else will they do?

The Cloud's Fountain also functions as the vault.  It is deep, and even a talented diver can only bring up a small amount of gold with every dive.  The theft of any appreciable sum would require many divers working for many hours, which is as intended.

The money is not carefully inventoried; no one knows exactly how much lies at the bottom of the Fountain.  Embezzling smaller amounts is very easy, which is also as intended.

The king is an elk-man, Mad King Ketch.  Like his predecessors, his job is only to carry out what was decided democratically.  This is a auxiliary duty, as his job is primarily a religious one.

The beastfolk consider their system to be the best and most honest in the world.  All governments are ruled by money.  If you pretend otherwise, you make the process even murkier and dishonest.

Judiciocracy: Brynth

Long ago, Brynth's last king was strangled with the intestines of its last priest.

In fact, kings are despised in Brynth.  Their citizens are known to be powerfully patriotic, and take a large amount of interest in their own governance.

Priests are likewise scorned in Brynth.  If the gods are a concern for every citizen, then religion is certainly something that is worth administering personally.  Religion is just another civic duty, and an honorable one.

The government is built entirely from the judiciary.

There are different types of judges.  Some are elected, while some are appointed by other judges.  

Judges make rulings on cases.  These precedents become new laws, and so each old law spawns new ones.

Brynth is also famous for its legal system--it is strictly gladitorial.

Cases are argued by barristers, a specialized caste of warrior-lawyers.  The judge hears both sides and then makes a ruling, informed by precedent.  The stronger case is given advantageous terms in the ensuing gladitorial combat, while the party found to be at fault begins at a disadvantage.

In the most severe scenario, a murderer will be blinded and emasculated before fighting the victim's family in the arena.  In a case where the case is less unambiguous, one party might begin armed with a dagger, while the other begins with a spear, a sword, and a shield.  The judge decides the terms of the combat.

When possible, the combat is made to suit the crime.  Liars are strangled, conspirators are forced to fight with hoods over their heads, and traitors are forced to fight against their own loved ones.

Its practitioners describe the system as fair.  No one describes it as kind.

Barristers often stand in for their clients, during these fights.  Aside from the accused, they are the only ones allowed to do so.

Government in Centerra

Government

Societies have power structures.  There is usually a top and a bottom to this power structure, but all of this power and legitimacy ultimately flows from the people below them.  (At least until we start talking about robot armies.)

A prince is never going to be crowned without the support of the mob/aristocracy/army/pope, and those people are never going to support that prince unless they think that the prince can help them in some way.

Essentially, political power is never free.  It exists only within the boundaries set by the people who put you into power.  If you start to go against their interests, those same people will remove you.  Even a king has constituents, of a sort.

Writing Interesting Fantasy Social Structures

1. It should be interesting.  If it's boring, don't spend time writing it, much less running it.

However, even a generic kingship can be interesting (knights! political marriages! inheritance!) and those are the parts you should focus on.

2. It should be semi-plausible.  This depends on how gonzo/historical you game is, but spare a thought for "realism" when you're describing how the kingdom is ruled by an ordinary chicken.

3. The players should be able to affect it.  Tabletops are simply more fun when the players can interact with what is presented.

There should be methods for the players to incorporate themselves into the power structure, or at least to break a few teapots. 

Ideally, the disruption should be a natural conclusion of the governmental structure itself.  Good example: becoming a baron by finding the sacred chicken among a flock of thousands.  Less unique example: becoming a baron by assassinating the old baron.

from the Wonder Woman movie

Concubocracry: The Nothic Empire

Originally, the Empire was ruled by an emperor who possessed ultimate authority in wartime, but was limited in all other areas by his senate, who held veto power over many of his actions.

During the war against the frost giants and their client cities, the entire senate was killed.  (Many say that the Emperor allowed it to happen, or possibly even did it himself.)

Because the emperor requires a senate to have any authority, the emperor appointed an emergency senate: his entire harem.

Precedent holds strong sway in Noth, and that action codified itself.  Now, the harem is the senate, and the senate is the harem.  The two are interchangable.

Senators are elected by different subsections of the population.  Appointment is for 10 years, or until death.  The only people who are eligible to run as senators are those born of noble families (or at least adopted).

In actuality, senators are usually just representatives of their families, and act in their family's own interests (but not always).

A senatrix can also be appointed by the emperor at his discretion, up to a certain limit.  Many defenders of this system argue that this is a superior method--if the emperor wants to fuck someone, then he also has to listen to them. 

Additionally, since the emperor is required to make regular visits to the harem (in order to ensure a good supply of imperial offspring), the emperor and the senate have regular opportunities to interact.  And the emperor has an additional motivator not to antagonize his harem--they bear his children, and are entirely responsible for the health and education of those resultant children for the first four years of their life.  In a semi-medieval world where childhood mortality is common and smothering is easy, infanticide serves as another check and balance.

The senate is officiated by the infanta, who is elected from among the daughters of the previous emperor. 

The empress has no governmental power, unless her husband dies.  She is an understudy.

Necrocracy: Mondaloa

The peaceful, crumbling city of Mondaloa is ruled by the dead.  Not the undead, who are abominations in the eyes of Mondaloa (the deity that shares his name with the city), but the actual dead.

Seven ancient families rule the city, and each family has a Speaker for the Dead, who speaks on behalf of their honored ancestors.  Each speaker has a rank.  Their ranks are decided like this.

Each speaker must be buried alive and then resuscitated.  The people who bury the priest must be different than the people who dig him up.  Rank is decided by how high up the mountain you were buried.

In practice, the priest will walk up the mountain with his diggers, along with a specialized coffin and numerous mechanisms to survive the ordeal, both magical and mundane.  Once they have climbed as high as they dare, they dig a hole, bury the priest, and run back to Mondaloa. 

The team of exhumers waits for their arrival, and then sets out as soon as the last digger returns, like a baton pass.  The go to the point specified, and exhume their brother.  If they are swift, the city has a new speaker for the dead.  If they are too slow, the honored dead gain another member, and a small cairn is built.

In cases of real deadlock, the actual dead are summoned to settle things.  This is generally unpleasant for everyone involved, and the speakers will try to avoid this.

It turns out that when actual ancestors are consulted, they tend to be weirdly conservative about certain things, weirdly uncaring about certain modern concerns, and racist along lines that aren't generally recognized anymore.  They are also fairly pissed off at being brought back.

The city sends out sanctified necromancers, who seek to coax the restless dead back into their graves.  After all, that skeleton is someone's beloved grandmother, and deserves to be treated as such.

Agonocracy: Fangol

The horse lords of the Fangolian plains decide their leadership through a race.  Since the race crosses the territories of all of the clans, and since there are essentially no rules, clans can "vote" against enemy clans by trying to kill them.

These races don't happen often, since the horse clans are fiercely independent, and rarely see the need to unify against anything less than an existential threat.  And when they do seek to unify, they usually already have one or two candidates that they support, and so most clans don't even enter the race out of politeness.

One caveat is that it is the horse that is racing, not the rider.  As long as the horse crosses the finish line, alive or dead, that clan is the winner.  The riders usually wear masks to emphasize their own unimportance relative to their clan's horse.

Gamocracy: Tatzulon

All positions in government, from tax collector up to king, must be held by a married couple.  The reasoning behind this is that anyone who is unable to navigate a marriage is certainly unable to navigate a political office.

If one of the two people die, or if they divorce, they become ineligible for the position and immediately retire.

Infidelity also causes a divorce, even if both members of the married couple wish to remain married.  However, infidelity has a very specific definition in Basharna, and there is always the matter of proof.

Kleptocracy: Shangrilore

Shangrilore has one king, three dukes, and eleven barons.  The crowns can be inherited, but the noblest way to obtain a crown is to steal it.

Only a duke can steal the crown from the king, and so become the new king.  Likewise, only a baron can steal the crown from a duke.  Anyone can steal from a baron, as long as they first undergo a ritual purification at a local church, first.

Violence is not permitted.  Spilt blood stains the transfer, and a murder invalidates it.  A thief who kills someone on a botched attempt is a common criminal, nothing more.

The wearers of the crowns must engage in certain pilgrimages across Abasinia, and to Casmir, where they perform certain duties, such as blessing the fishing fleet and receiving blessings from the vestal virgins.  All of this travel requires them to wear the crown, and allows for many opportunities for thievery to occur.

Ranking among the dukes and the barons in determined by the method in which the crown was stolen.  Much more acclaim is given to those who obtained their crowns through bravery and brilliance.

When a crown is stolen, you must leave your own crown behind as proof.

Prestige is also gained by stealing things from your rivals.  The more outrageous the theft, the better.  Stealing things from people who can't afford it is considered a sin, as is the theft of money, gold, or jewels (unless you compensate the victim the dollar value of the item immediately).  In fact, things that are stolen are often immediately returned, usually in a respectful and/or cheerful manner.

An example of a prestigious theft would be to steal your rival's distinctive clothing, alter their calendar, and then show up to their appointments while prancing around and mocking them, while your rival shows up an hour late for all of their appointments.  Classic.

Geriatrocy: Elvish Cities

Elvish cities are often pure democracies, decided by a straightforward vote.  Each person's vote is proportionate to their age, so an 80-year-old man casts twice as many votes as a 40-year-old.

Elves pride themselves on their wisdom and fairness, and justify this rule by saying that age is wiser than youth, and so the extra voting power is deserved.  In practice, this usually just means that younger elves get little representation, to say nothing of the few humans who sometimes live in elven enclaves ("half-elves").

Elections follow a rolling total, with votes coming in until a clear victor is determined.  This process takes as long as it must, and sometimes it takes years for wandering elves to return home and cast the deciding vote.  Sometimes children and babies are dragged to the ballot boxes when a vote is especially close.  And of course, sometimes the vote changes as people's age's change or certain voting members die.  (Consider an 80-year-old opposed by two 40-year-olds--the younger cohort will have a distinct advantage next year.)

Dead (and undead) are not allowed to vote.  Resurrected elves are allowed to vote, and vote at their full (calendar-calculated) age.  And in fact, sometimes especially ancient elves will commit suicide in order to leave some mileage on their bodies, so they can be resurrected at a later point in order to influence future politics.  (You cannot be resurrected if you die from old age.)

Elves from the temporal elven kingdoms at the end of time are from a different class of elf, and do not mix with the "low elves" of Centerra, which simplifies matters for the elves who are not stuck with the task of calculating the age of elves who have looped through the timeline so many times that they are several times older than the universe.

Lottery: Great Zyro, Worthless Zyro, Ziga, and Manamar

Exactly like what it sounds like.  Everyone's name is put into a hat, and then a name is drawn for every single position available.

This is includes the expected governmental positions such as master of ships and high priest, but it also includes unexpected roles such as village idiot and bandit.

Bear in mind that this madness only encapsulates the Zyroleans who live on land, who are already considered to be mad.  All proper Zyroleans live aboard their ships, and follow proper naval laws.

Magocracy: Meltheria

Whenever one of the high mages dies, his surviving family picks his successor, who must be from outside of the family.

Of course this leads to some biased judging, since the departing family seeks to install a high mage who is sympathetic to their goals, but everyone likes to pretend that the judging is unbaised.  Because of this, flagrant partisanship leads to angry mobs and a legitimacy struggle.

The successorship competitions are always public, and they are always spectacular affairs, usually a blend of scholarship, showmanship, and raw magical power.

They also tend to be crowd-pleasers.  A popular display might be a parade of animals made of cake, who march through the city until they are eaten by the populace.

Each of the high mage's rules over one of the city's towers, and each tower has a different focus, from warfare to history.  The performance is expected to conform to the theme.

Some towers are more stable than others, with the position of high mage being traded back and forth between two or three families for centuries, while other towers are more chaotic.

Government in Exile: the Anti-Pope

A generation ago, a long-festering schism within the Church finally spilled over.

The Church was split between the conservative Orthodox faction that wished for the Church structure to remain as it was, and the Reform faction that believed that the Church had become too corrupt and worldly, and would be better if it fragmented into smaller, decentralized churches.  It's opponents simply said that the Reformers were seeking to seize power for themselves, and had no moral motivation.

Both sides accused the other of being illegitimate, and both appointed their own Pope.

With strong support from allies in Noth, the Orthodox faction eventually triumphed over the Reformers.  Most recanted.  A few were tried as heretics and killed.  And some fled the city of Kaladon and the Church that they saw as corrupt.

The who became labeled as the False Pope, or Anti-Pope, was a cardinal named Odrial.  He was immensely popular in the north, which is where he fled.

He is believed to be hiding out somewhere in Guilder or Gafferdy, still preaching his doctrine in secret masses.  He is the most dangerous heretic in the world, and is known to have a small circle of anti-priests and anti-paladins.

Map of Centerra

Here's an updated one, in case anyone is interested where these places are located relative to each other.