Although these kingdoms formally pay tribute to the Southern Empire, they are so corrupt and their rulers so weak (or so capable of pretending to be weak) that it is the pirates who rule here. Though there are too many kingdoms to name fully, they are all very similar: A small city where 'merchants' come to unload their wares and indulge in shady practices that appeal to their kind. There are at least fifteen known pirate-ruled city states, but this number constantly changes as one kingdom or another conquers its neighbor or shakes off the rulership of a competitor.
The pirates are rumored to have a secret base warded by powerful magics, hidden somewhere on the Isle of War. But although the Empire has mounted one expedition after another to find it, the expeditions always meet with failure, and sometimes have not returned at all. The Assembly has a standing reward of a quarter million gold which will be paid to anyone who can guide them to the enclave.
Named after the long defunct kingdom of Mukiru, this jungle covers a vast expanse of territory, from Kassith in the south to Vindath in the north, and as far east as the lowest foothills of the Great Horn Mountains. Its northern areas are cool and misty, fairly comfortable save for the constant dampness that permeates everything. Massive redknot trees spread their thin branches hundreds of feet into the sky, and white tailed monkeys swing among the canopy. In the south, the trees frequently stand no higher than fifty feet and often give way to vine choked foliage. An incredible array of plants and animals roams this region, including many predators such as displacer beasts, jaguars, giant spiders, and so on.
Faerie also call the Jungle home; the Southern Empire has not been able to drive them out, nor has it truly tried. For the most part, the fey tend to be benevolent or uncaring, especially in the north. In the south, enclaves of Unseelie dot the darker parts of the forest. But in general, the fey are primitive and barbaric, often consisting of painted griggans and vine-draped jungle brownies. The fey almost always stay hidden from human intruders, unless the humans aggressively harm the jungle itself.
The Jungle has not always been such a barbaric place. Eight or nine hundred years ago, before the Southern Empire was even a name, a small kingdom of humans built a civilization within the mysterious expanse of the Jungle of Mukiru. Little is known of them, for they rarely built their cities out of durable materials, and the jungle quickly swallowed up most of their ruins. Only a few surviving ruins are known, and these have been plundered of most of their historic relics and the occasional magical item by adventurers from Kassith in the employ of eccentric merchants.
While some sages claim that the jungle kingdom was evil, there is no evidence of human sacrifice or other such travesties. There is evidence that they lived in harmony with the nature for much of their existence, or at least that they paid their respects to the faerie of the jungle. Historians have not precisely pieced together the cause of their fall. Their theories include: a disease, a slave revolt, a civil war incited when the southern parts of the kingdom succumbed to Unseelie influences, a war against the faerie folk themselves for violating some terrible taboo, a curse brought on by magical experimentation or caused by the sea devils of the Blood Sea, or possibly a natural cataclysm. Some of the darkest rumors speak of a race of humanoids twisted by the Unseelie who rose up against the humans, and still secretly dwell within the jungle itself, striving to rebuild their strength. Those who peddle this last theory point to the number of disappearances that occur among those who enter the Jungle, but others note that many isolated human villages remain, and do not appear to be at war with some hidden race of monsters. These isolated communities sometimes preserve fragments of ancient legends of the Fall, but they are so fragmented and inconsistent that sages can use such legends to support every known hypothesis. Lastly, sages have wondered whether any civilized remnants of the ancient kingdom still survive, perhaps retaining their highly developed culture and knowing the truth of the fall of the Kingdom of Mukiru. Though no such enclaves have so far been found within the Jungle itself, very little territory has really been explored. There are stories implying that survivors of this ancient kingdom escaped, perhaps to the other continent or to the planes. In truth, this all is speculation, and if anyone does know the facts, they are keeping them secret. Surely the faerie gods must know, but they are a quiet lot who are stingy with their secrets.
More of a pirate base today than anything else, this island was known as the Island of Contemplation until two or three centuries ago. At that time, sages often came to the isle to ponder the mysteries of the world, and to study magic and strange mystical religions. The island once housed a famous university and library, and was a mecca of learning and civilization for folk from many lands in the south and north.
In the end, the island could not keep itself outside of the struggles and conflicts of the mainland, and it found itself pressured to ally with one side or the other in a conflict between two powerful factions of merchant houses during the early days of the Southern Empire. This was one of the last great wars before the merchant houses gave up such destructive pursuits, and joined together to form a council to enforce peace.
The learned folk of the Island of Contemplation refused to serve the needs of war, and both sides grew fed up with the isle's neutrality and joined forces to annihilate the college. The Isle of Contemplation brought its magical prowess to bear in its defense, but its spellcasters were not skilled in hostile magic and managed only to delay the inevitable. When the merchant factions finally took the island, they burnt the Great University and its magnificent Six Spires of Higher Thought, and cast down all the great works of learning. To the great dismay of the current rulers of the Southern Empire, the invaders also burnt the great library in which had been preserved much lore from the past and many potent and rare magics. The various factions enslaved the alchemists, sages, and other inhabitants of the isle and returned them to their home cities to swell the ranks of their own sages. Yet in one way the sages of the Island of Contemplation won this conflict, for they brought with them new ideas, magics, and religions which have grown increasingly influential in the Southern Empire. Some historians even claim that these ideas are responsible for lifting the southern continent out of its state of perpetual war and "unifying" it into a trading empire of "unparalleled" wealth and power.
The ruins of the island and the Great University have been largely plundered, though some parts of the island remain hidden or are protected by wards and curses so powerful that not even the Southern Empire's greatest archmages dare to test them. The greatest mystery of the island surrounds the Spires of Higher Thought themselves. For nearly a fortnight the five outer towers burned as the fires raged within, fed by the accumulated books of centuries. Meanwhile, the greatest mystics, scholars, wizards, and priests of the island gathered together into the central tower. No matter what method the invaders tried, they could not get the central tower to burn, nor could they breach its mother-of-pearl walls. Then, one night, it simply disappeared. Today, the five blackened shells of the other towers are haunted and abandoned, but the central tower has never yet been found in spite of the efforts of hundreds of adventurers.
Since the sacking of the island and the depopulation if its centers of learning, faerie and sylvan creatures have moved back into the central regions of the island in force. Much of the northern regions especially have grown thick with conifer forests. These forests provide an excellent source of straight timber, if one can manage to guard oneself against the forest's defenders long enough to haul it away. The forest creatures here are particularly vigilant and distrustful of humankind, though there appear to be no Unseelie elements among them.
Today, the southern regions of the Isle of War are primarily occupied by shepherds and by fishing villages that dot its coast and rugged hills. Some of the coastal villages sell dried fish, pearls, and other rarities from the sea to inland folk. Other villages survive by selling food to the pirate enclaves, and receive protection in return. These villages have increasingly been pushed south by an aggressively expanding forest that seems to grow by a few feet each day.
A few small docks make a living by offering repair facilities and resupply to ships, but these must constantly contend with the sea devil raids and with Vindathian vessels jealous of their own monopoly over trade. Only the wealthy pirate clans can compete with the Vindathian traders and stave off the dangers of the deep. These clans know it is only a matter of time before the independent villages join them. The most famous pirate enclave is called Skulldock, and its piers are rumored to be built upon the spine of a mammoth leviathan which beached itself on the island a hundred years ago. Yet in spite of Skulldock's fame, its location has eluded the Vindathian traders for centuries, and many have died seeking its secrets.
Bard's Island is very much a mystery. The smaller of the two islands in the Blood Sea, it has never known war or conquest as the Isle of War has. The Southern Empire never appeared concerned about it, as it has never offered any great wealth or knowledge. Gentle hills cover most of the island, and its temperature remains largely constant most of the year. Fogs typically cover its shoreline for days on end, making travel nearby particularly treacherous.
In spite of its haunting appearance, Bard's Island has a larger population than the nearby Isle of War. Many small human villages are scattered across its hundred mile diameter, and yet no central government rules them all. They generally exist peacefully with each other, trading goods as needed along relatively safe paths that criss-cross the island.
As its name suggests, the Island is famous for its bards, who are largely responsible for carrying news from village to village and from the outside world. The bards organize themselves in schools, depending upon their preferences for instruments and certain types of music, and these schools are collectively called the College of Song. The College has no central buildings or headquarters; it consists solely of the bards themselves. These bards are beloved by the islands residents, and many a youth dreams of growing up to join the College of Song. The bards travel to far and distant places in search of new material to render into music, and it is considered a great privilege for a noble of Aelfir to sponsor a bard from the College of Song in his court. In the past two centuries, the bards of the College of Song have not been so eagerly welcomed in the Southern Empire, though many merchants there still value them highly for their musical talents.
No one knows quite how many bards there are, because so many are away from the island at any one time. Some are even rumored to be traveling to and from the unknown continent on the other side of Eldreth, though they rarely speak of their adventures when they return. Only a handful of human tavernkeepers know more than a dozen or so bards, and these tavernkeepers tend to change the topic of conversation swiftly when asked about such things.
This broad, flat island remained largely abandoned until a few centuries ago, when it was colonized by residents of Corusk seeking to expand their influence and secure new trading markets. The island has little in the way of resources, lacking in both mountains for ore and forests for timber. However, the flat and easily tamed lands quickly attracted many farmers who built themselves vast plantations and easily tamed the island to human uses.
Since then, Vishala island has become something of a resort island for the wealthy and powerful of the Southern Empire, a place to get away from the constant stress and mess of the cities.
Attracted by the island's mild year-round weather, wealthy patrons sponsored theatres, libraries, and even a major university whose quality is exceeded only by the great centers of learning in Surith Dul itself. Thus, Vishala boasts many luxuries that one might expect to find only in a cosmopolitan center of trade. Presently, many wealthy merchants come to the isle to socialize with their fellows in a relaxed environment. Many also send their children to study at the isle so that they might build a network of useful contacts.
Alongside this elite culture, Vishala Island is also the home of numerous mystics, whose enclaves have built numerous shrines and temples. These mystics revere a divine presence called Frajavati, He Who Enfolds All of Existence. Small cults of Frajavati and related deities have been springing up across the Southern Empire over the last hundred years or so, and many converts make a pilgrimage to Vishala island.
Many of these converts stay on the isle to study the inner secrets of the world, as well as lesser skills such as reading, writing, law, and arithmetic. The cult of Frajavati is seen as a way of advancing one's station in life by those whose families are wealthy enough to afford to study at the isle, but who are otherwise not among the actual upper classes of the Southern Empire.
After the prevalent westerly winds pass over the Jungle of Mukiru, depositing rain in copious quantities, they strike the western slopes of the Great Horn Mountains and then lose their remaining moisture as the clouds are forced higher into the sky. Thus, the western half of the Great Horn Mountains is a pleasant place very similar to some parts of Aelfir, with temperate forests in the lowlands giving way to the sharp peaks that give the Great Horn Mountains their name. Some faerie creatures still live in these parts of the Great Horns, and several villages still follow the old traditions. Over the last few centuries, more and more villages have abandoned these old ways, viewing them as anachronisms, and the fey folk have retreated ever deeper into the forests and mountains while paths leading to the Fey Realm have become rarer and scarcer.
The eastern slopes of the Great Horns are quite another matter entirely, for the clouds here are few and the air is dry. Because of the rainshadow of the Great Horns, much of the eastern third of the southern continent is desert or dry highlands. Occasional storms blow up from the south or down from the north, and these cause the Igalu River to overflow its sandy banks. This happens frequently during the two stormy seasons in the year, but during the other six months the region is lucky to get three or four inches of precipitation.
The peoples who claim this area are a hardy folk, mostly the descendants of wanderers who roamed the dry plateaus in search of dry grass for their goat herds to graze. They have developed many ingeneous ways of adapting to the dry conditions, and much of their culture centers around the sturdy camels which play such a large role in their economic life.
This is not to say the people of the Great Horn Desert are primitive. Indeed, many of the greatest merchant houses of the Southern Empire trace their lineage back to the tribesfolk of the desert. Education is valued highly in the desert, and children are taught the civilized arts as well as the basics of survival. Though they lack the skilled tutors that the wealthy southern merchants can buy for their children, life in the desert has gifted these nomads with a staunch work ethic and a headstrong nature. It is therefore not surprising that the desert produces a disproportionate number of scholars, mages, and merchants given its relatively sparse population.
While not the largest city in the South (this honor belongs to Gereth Dul, which claims a population of over two million souls), Surith Dul has many other claims to greatness. The city is an architectural marvel, boasting high spires and large libraries with doric columns and broad marble staircases. It is also a city of many fountains, statues, and parks, where the history of the Southern Empire (or at least the illusion of such a history) is preserved for all to see.
Not least among its claims to greatness is the Merchant Council, which sits in the great assembly hall at the center of the city. Over the years, Surith Dul has given up its eminence in trade and become a city of bureaucrats. The citizens of Surith Dul take great pride in this facet of their city, for it is they who hold the far flung reaches of the Southern Empire together and build the roads, aquaducts, and other public works which keep the vast continent functioning.
This is not to say that trade does not flow through Surith Dul. It does, in vast quantities. Its ports are the most modern in all of the empire, and it remains a crossroads for trade routes between the east and west of the continent, as well as a major shipyard. Even so, the merchant houses themselves value the city more for its administrative talents than for the bargaining skills of its overly educated citizenry. Thus, while many houses locate their accounting departments and regional headquarters here, they prefer to hire traders from Gereth Dul, Rassoon, or the Great Horn Dessert to lead their caravans and ships.
The government remains complex and obscure to an outsider, not least of all because so many of the decisions of the Merchant Council are really pieced together in the Advisory Committee behind closed doors, and many of these decisions are really hammered out in private villas where the true wielders of power meet to negotiate the fate of the Empire. Nonetheless, the city's bureaucracy is not a force to be ignored, and they demand that at least some attention be paid to to the formalities of government. Thus, the Code is thought of with some awe by the residents of the South, and it is housed in a special building called the Concordium where anyone may come in and view the original document. In reality, however, the Code is constantly being ammended, and the original document is hardly more than an outline of a legal system rather than the law as it is practiced.
Finally, the city is famous for its many universities and centers of learning, both magical and mundane. Fully half of the South's mages are trained in the Arcanum and other magical colleges. While the colleges are all privately funded and demand high tuition, any citizen who demonstrates magical talent can easily find a merchant house who will fund their education in exchange for ten years of bonded service. In reality, mages do not mind this bonded service, as it offers them a steady occupation after they graduate. Those mages who dislike this structured environment can sometimes find private tutors among the city's wizards, though often at great expense. Poor folk who desire tutoring typically strike out for one of the empire's less claustrophobic cities, such as Corusk or Vindath, where more friendly tutors can sometimes be found who are willing to take on particularly talented students.
Surith Dul remains a clean and orderly place. To the extent that conflict exists among the ruling houses, it is strict kept out of view of the public. Moreover, the influence of such factions as the Talonmists and the rilmani are not generally known except by the most powerful of merchants and civil servants.
Gereth Dul is the exact reverse of Surith Dul. Long ago they were sister cities and virtually identical, but since the Code was written they have each specialized in their respective talents. Thus, Gereth Dul is a city of chaotic, noisy, constant haggling where anything at all can be bought and sold in almost any quantity. It lacks the delicate and sophisticated architecture of the capital, and prides itself on the eclectic collage of buildings of almost every known style. Even the villas of the rich do not hold to any one convention, instead competing with each other to be more different and unique than their neighbors.
Gereth Dul is famed for its grand bazaar, which covers a quarter of the city. Here, street vendors and hawkers with open-walled shops peddle everything from giant-crafted axes to the rare blue-fin squid eggs which are prized as a delicacy in the south (and are harvested only from the Blood Sea).
Gereth Dul lacks many of the "specialized" merchants of Kassith, but virtually everyone in the city knows someone who knows someone who deals in anything a body could want to purchase. Meanwhile, the merchant quarter of the city strives to avoid the loud din of the bazaar. It is here, in the walled villas and gardens of the great merchant lords, that the wealthy and powerful sign contracts worth tons of gold. The dock quarter, with its warehouses, and the clerk's quarter with its rows and rows of narrow townhouses, comprise the remainder of the city.
Overall, Gereth Dul gives one the impression of constant activity and energy. While its merchants are not dishonest, they do not disguise the fact that wealth is their top, and some say only, priority. The merchants rather pride themselves on their canny merchant skills, and look down upon the snooty residents of Surith Dul to the east. Moreover, the merchants of Gereth Dul flirt frequently enough with shady practices that they happliy keep the rigid Code of Surith Dul at a safe distance. The line between corruption and business here stretches somewhat farther than it does in the Empire's capital.
Also known as the City of Indulgence, Kassith caters to every known taste and preference. Though its markets are not as large as those in Surith Dul or Gereth Dul, the wealth and extravagance of the merchant nobles of this city draw in the widest variety of spices, narcotics, and other rare substances and commodities of Landreth.
Kassith weather tends toward the warm and humid, and the people tend to dress in thin silks and loose robes to accomodate themselves to the heat. During the afternoon, the city's inhabitants become so languid that most businesses close down, and people visit the baths and salons for chilled mocha and glasses of potent sesseleaf tea. By night, however, cool breezes blow up from the bay, carrying ships into harbor. The temperature becomes almost pleasant, and most folk pass the time at open street cafes or in reading rooms, or perhaps indulging one of their many other pasttimes. The students of the many universities, sponsored by wealthy families across the Empire, frequently wander the streets till morning, and then collapse into sleep till late afternoon.
Kassith is also justly famous for its alchemists. Because it is so close to the Jungles of Mukira, many explorers bring back rare plants which the alchemists mix into narcotics, potions, and even poisons. Thus, Kassith has attracted a fair number of priests and wizards who specialize in alchemy, or seek the rare components that the markets of Kassith have to offer.
Lastly, Kassith boasts the most stunning shallow water reef in Landreth, only miles from its harbor. The fantastic Peacock Reef (named after its multicolored corals) yields up a bounty of precious coral, as well as rare fish, pearls, and other wonders. Exploring it can be dangerous, however, as many sea faeries live in its confines, and more than a few reef giants call it home. Other dangers in the water are even more to be feared, such as the monstrous striped blue sharks and occasional sahaugin raiding parties which attack divers on sight.
This city of over a million, and its surrounding territory, are one of the most recent additions to the Southern Empire. Nonetheless, they have embraced the Empire's mercantile philosophy with gusto, and have prospered under the Empire's protection. From its position at the mouth of the Felga River, and as the largest trading port on the Blood Sea, Vindath has used its powerful navy to strong-arm other ports and has thus secured itself a reasonable monopoly over trade with Aelfir and the inland.
Though the city does not actually bar competitors, it does assure itself of a dominant position over its neighbors. However, Vindath has encountered two obstacles in its quest for power.
First, the Pirate Kingdoms have proven an eternal thorn in their side, and no amount of threats and punishment has enabled Vindath to eliminate piracy from the inner regions of the Blood Sea. Vindath has even mounted large expeditions against the Pirate Isles, but the pirate kingdoms have proven far too cunning and powerful to eliminate in such a manner.
Second, Vindath has encountered some difficulties after the ban on official trade with Aelfir, and is thus using all its influence in the Advisory Committee to have the Merchant Council pressure Kerlain to permit trade. While Vindathian traders have managed to carry on some illicit trade, this is only a trickle compared to the previous trade flows between Vindath and Cagair.
In addition, most of the illicit trade with Aelfir is now conducted throught the pirate kingdoms, further weakening Vindath's position. While Vindath can still rely on the Felga River trade and its trade with other ports, it has seen a significant drop in profits. Much plotting now surrounds Vindath regarding this ban, and the most recent rumors claim that the elder Duke Bradeg has taken up residence with one of the merchant houses of Vindath, and has offered his experience and knowledge of Cagair to merchants willing to help him regain his realm. Of course, no merchant houses would dare take him up on such an offer...
For those not interested in trade, Vindath remains a pleasant city nonetheless. The buildings and people here tend to be more reserved and practical and even somewhat friendly. Vindath is neither as aggressive and pushy as Gereth Dul, nor as stuffy as the capital. Indeed, a small but significant minority of half elves can be found among its population, and Vindath has benefitted greatly from its trade with Bard's Island. Thus, Vindath has become a major cultural center of the southern continent, where the wealthly come to indulge their artistic pursuits and where great sculptors, writers, painters, and others come to craft their masterpieces.
The greatest of the inland cities of the south, Rassoon is in some ways the true birthplace of the Southern Empire. Over half of the great merchant houses trace their origins back to this city, and many of the elder merchants think of Rassoon as the true heart and soul of the realm.
Rasson is a dry city which sits on the banks of the greatest river in the south. Starting four hundred years ago, the shieks of the city have planted huge thindlewood trees along the outer edges of the city to shield it against the dusty winds of the Great Horn Desert, and the city is now somewhat more pleasant than it was in olden times. The buildings themselves are generally poor affairs on the surface, crude constructions of thick blocks of pink-white sandstone, but these contructions are warm at night and cool during the day, which in Rassoon is more important than outer appearance.
Only a handful of buildings are constructed from other materials, which must be shipped at great expense from elsewhere in the Empire. Even these buildings are often merely decorated with foreign substances, while their cores are constructed of the traditional, and comfortable, sandstone.
Rassoon initially began as a place where farmers who dwelt along the Igalu River could come after the twice-yearly floods to sell their produce and purchase tools. It later expanded its trade as well equipped caravans set off across the desert. In that first century, riches flowed into the desert city, but since then the other regions of the south have spawned their own merchant houses to compete with Rassoon, and since Rassoon lacks a seaport, it has yielded up much of its early dominance.
Rassoon remains a city of contrasts. Though its merchatns are vicious hagglers, they also adhere to a code of justice that the people of Gereth Dul would find absurd and outdated. Moreover, many of the middle-class merchants are profoundly religious, worshipping a strange assortment of nature and wealth oriented deities.
The upper classes have generally drifted away from religion as they fell under the influence of new cultures and ways of thinking, though they still pay lip service to the old ways.
Most recently, the worship of Frajavati has been making inroads into Rassoon, and rather than choosing between one faith or the other, many people have mixed the two religions together, forming a convoluted hybrid religion with conflicting tenets.
Built upon the mouth of the Igalu River on the eastern coast of the southern continent, Corusk does not fit the mold of the other cities of the Southern Empire (to the degree a mold exists). It has more of the flavor of Waterdeep or Neverwinter. Its folk are serious minded laborers and hard working folk who do not see trade as the source of all wealth. In this way, they are more like the average citizen of the Southern Empie who lives in one of the thousands of small towns and cities which cover the coastline and southern inlands of the continent. The people of Corusk build stout wooden and stone houses, and have laid out their city in such a functional manner such that even a newcomer can get from one place to another without asking directions more than once.
Corusk is famous for its craftsmen, and it is hard to find a skill which cannot be purchased from one of Corusk's many guilds. Materials are shipped in from everywhere, including wood from the jungle of Mukiru, iron from the Great Horn Mountans, and food from nearby coastal towns. Many Coruskite citizens claim they can manufacture virtually anything from the goods that sit daily in their warehouses.
Corusk is also famous for its warriors (though not as famous as Kazak), and prior to the Code it was justly feared for the armies that it could raise. In the past, it was known for the practical manner that it practiced the art of warfare, never charging its troops into hopeless situations and always parlaying when bloodshed was unnecessary. If there is anything Corusk lacks, it is magic. The practical minds of Corusk natives have proven resistant to magical training, but not a few Corusk residents have begun to experimet with so-called "scientific" arts such as alchemy and mechanical constructions. Corusk therefore is the only city in the entire Southern continent which can field a troop of musketeers and several batteries of cannon.
Strangely, though Corusk has stronger links with Vishala island than any other city in the Southern Empire, the cult of Frajavati and the other mystical orders have not taken deep root in the city. The city's residents explain that this is due to their practical minded nature - indeed the word 'practical' is almost a religion of its own.
To the extent Corusk merchants have had success in trade, it is because they have avoided competition with the merchant houses of other cities. Corusk provides the Empire with many less-than-exciting necessities that do not bring amazing prfits, but do bring a steady income. Thus, the citizens of Corusk live comfortable, if unexciting, lives.
Corusk has only one outstanding feature. It is the primary city that spelljamming traders prefer to visit when dealing with the Southern Empire, and the city is aware of its spelljamming status, going out of its way to not interfere with spelljamming trade. In addition, a rather large number of odd gnomes have been seen on Corusk's streets of late, implying that the city may be arranging or has arranged a contract with the tinkers of Greygnomehome.
While Kazat has been a member of the Southern Empire for longer than Vindath, it has maintained its distinctiveness quite well during that time. Korusk is a city of war, with great walls made of stone shipped down over the years from the Great Horn Mountains on rafts. Even most of the houses are crafted from stone, and were built in such a way to be easily defensible in case the city walls themselves were breached.
Some say as much as a third of the Southern Empire's troops hail from Kazat and its surrounding regions. While not as technically advanced as Corusk, the troops of Kazat hold to strict discipline and are renowned for their courage. Part of this staunch military culture may derive from Kazak's dwarven roots, and some of the most famous merchant companies are led by dwarven generals. These dwarves have no ties to the Iron Shield's clan, and it is not commonly known where they originate from. Dwarves have always lived in Kazat. With them they brought their smithing skills, and Kazat turns out large quantities of high quality weaponry and armor, some of it even magical.
The people of Kazat are at once fiercely independent and loyal, and they have been hardened by many years of warfare with giants who sometimes raid far to the south in search of broadening their lands. Prior to the Sea of Chaos, the armies of Kazat were known to launch raids against the Northmen tribes in retaliation for the Northmens' frequent raids of neighboring coastal towns. Since then, Kazat has become a somewhat quieter place, though the many mercenary companies of Kazat often serve as caravan guards and ship marines in the more lawless areas of the Southern Empire, and occasionally serve along the border of Aelfir. Most recently, the people of Kazat have encountered a small handful of abominations from the Blacklands who somehow managed to migrate south. While these encounters are extremely rare to say the least, Kazak has had a much more difficult time with sea monsters and amphibious beasts which have recently begun to plague its shipping and coastal regions. As these abominations moved further along the coastline, it is likely that Corusk will soon begin to experience similar problems as well.
There are hundreds of merchant houses in the Southern Empire, and perhaps fifty of them may call themselves major houses. Of these, twenty are known as the Great Houses. While the Twenty Great Houses are not necessarily the largest, they are certainly the most influential. The Great Houses may each elect representatives to the Advisory Committee, which plays a dominant role in crafting new legislation. They frequently use this power to secure monopolistic trading priveleges, or to protect themselves from the regulatory attacks of competing Great Houses. Thus, a Great Merchant House has many advantages over other competing merchant houses. Even so, Great Merchant Houses have been known to rise and fall over the centuriesa and their position is not static in relation to each other or in relation to the other merchant houses of the Empire.
The number of Great Houses does not change, but it is possible for their composition to change. This happens only rarely, when one of the houses has clearly been eclipsed. Even then, it is not ejected from the Committee. Rather, it is encouraged to sell its position as a Great House to a newcomer. Most declining houses typically do this before they meet with such "encouragement" simply because the benefits of having a member on the Advisory Committee are directly proportional to a House's size, so rising houses pay handsomely for the position.
Of course, Great Houses have sometimes been known to sell their position for bargain prices when newcomers resort to certain unscrupulous tactics. In general, this is overlooked so long as it is handled with tact, and out of public sight.
The Great Houses themselves tend to be very secretive, and
often maintain fronts or figureheads to formally represent the
houses. The true power of the house generally resides with one or
more master merchants, who may either be members of the same
family or sometimes different families that long ago formed an
alliance.