Second Map of Amral

I used a website called inkarnate.com to make this map; it’s a lot more detailed than the last one.  I hope you like it, and I hope it makes some things clearer. 🙂

The continent was roughly 3000 miles (4828 kilometers) long, measuring from the northeast corner of Ithwon to the southwest corner of Ashtabar.

The little silver dots on Lamaera were sylvanor trees, for which I had (understandably) no symbol.

The sylvanor trees had a reflective silver bark that was almost luminous, and if you were to run your hand down the bark, it would turn gold under your fingertips in a trail of light.  The trees were very, very tall–some of them broke the cloud cover–and they were usually fairly straight as well (at least for the first fifty to a hundred feet), making them ideal for installing stairsteps.

The leaves didn’t start until a few hundred feet in the air; they appeared in large, umbrella-like tufts that–if woven together in a very distinct way–would grow over time to be strong enough and deep enough to build solid, wind-resistant structures right on top of them.  Thus, because the ground held many dangers for Lamaerans, even with the protection of their magic, and because they had early fell in love with the sky, they decided to build their homes in the clouds.

After the Lamaerans invented their famous flying ships, many of these trees were used as ports.  Water was brought up through the same newly-discovered spell that granted the ships their flight, and it formed sky-lakes that the ships could rest on and use for takeoffs and landings.

Anyway, that kind of got off on a tangent, but an important one for Lamaeran history!

A Brief Overview of Malinor and the Sunserpent

The sunserpent was one of the most enigmatic creatures that ever existed.  Little was known about him except that he came down from the sun once every 7777 years and burned the whole world, staying just long enough to visit the first humans and Mornai after Erfeirin created them once more.  After telling them they had 7777 years to alter their fates, he then left back into the sun to await the appointed time in a silent sleep.

Each cycle ran about the same.  Society developed along the same lines: the sunserpent and his warning would fade into myth, and the history of the world would play along the same track over and over again.

Then, one day, the sunserpent made a mistake.  Somewhere on the sun, a gigantic explosion from an unknown source forced him from his hibernation only 7775 years after the last renewal.  Rather than end the track and begin again, he decided to wait and see how the humans–by then nomads living in Amral–would react to his presence.  He chose a a small island off the coast of what would become Lamaera as his resting place.  His scaly, golden skin, as radiant as the sunlight it reflected, was impossible to miss.

The humans did indeed react.  After much deliberation, they sent a boy name Malinor along with nine other men to reason with–or kill–the sunserpent, thus ensuring the survival of the human race.

The sunserpent, sensing danger, attempted to enchant Malinor and his crew so that they would feel intense fear as soon as they drew near.  His crew turned back, but Malinor himself persevered, denying the magic’s power and rendering it ineffectual.

The sunserpent then tried a different tactic: explaining why the renewal was necessary.  But to no avail.  He insisted that men were corrupt, that they would bring about their own demise if left unchecked, but Malinor refused to listen.  Eventually, with an ice-cold arrow enchanted by the mountain nomads, Malinor slew the sunserpent just days before 7777.

From that point on, everyone revered Malinor.  His tribe, Ithwon, became the first to develop into a settled society, and they named him king.  The Lamaerans followed suit and swore to the Ithwonians that the island where Malinor’s heroic deeds had taken place would be preserved as a reminder to all future generations that their lives were bought with great courage.  Malinor had preserved his people, and they could progress unhindered, continuing to grow and thrive.

But Malinor harbored doubts in his heart.  All too well he remembered the sunserpent’s warning that the corruption of Man would always rule the day.  As such, he set up a society valuing wisdom, tradition, morality, and discernment above all else–including the rich natural resources that littered their homeland.  The roots he planted ran so deep that they outlasted 99 kings and counting, with Ithwon growing more and more measured and utopic every year.  Infused with Malinor’s spirit, the peaceful land defied all the sunserpent’s predictions with its beauty, grace, and intelligence.  The snake had been wrong.

Amral at the Time of Alkanion Ephenor’s Birth

Amral was a magical land that could best be likened to our Europe, in the sense that it was a continent attached to a much larger landmass along its eastern border.  However, unlike Europe, it was comprised of only seven nations, and, while the borders were sometimes disputed, the true identities of these nations could never be lost.  This was because each section of Amral had its own unique magic infused into its very geography, and the people who lived there naturally became imbued with it over time.

The different kinds of magic, or haereldiar, were separate entities, at times almost incredibly so, but they were not all equal in power.  Consequently, as the tribes of Ithwon developed into stagnant societies, a certain hierarchy developed right along with them, ranking the peoples according to the “purity” of the magic that flowed through their veins.  However, while in some respects this was akin to a caste system, each person being delegated a place in life (or relegated to one), it was not nearly as socially binding as you might think.  Intermarriage was common, and very few positions made a habit of denying onhaereldiar, or the “impure”–those that did often required the overt use of complex magic, such as the job of Lamaeran mage.

The final ranking for the nations was as follows:

1. Lamaera
2. Ithwon
3. Ashtabar
4. Rhesch
5. Circin
6. Loprena
7. Maranthall

Each nation was unique in both culture and landscape.

Lamaera was widely considered the most sophisticated nation in terms of magic and engineering.  They valued knowledge very highly, and consistently looked to the future, to new possibilities and ideas that would eventually leave them with an awe-inspiring legacy.  Having had a long obsession with the sky, they adored the stars, the sun and moon, the clouds, the weather, the wind–anything relating to the air.  One of their most famous inventions was that of the flying ship, enchanted to sit in a cradle of mist and water and to float through the air almost indefinitely.  Their land was also home to the sylvanor trees, made of brilliant, easily-enchantable silver bark that was strong, yet supple; reaching, at times, almost a hundred feet tall; and having a dense, umbrella-like shade of leaves that could stretch a quarter-mile in either direction.

Ithwon was the primary home of historical knowledge, wisdom, traditional values, the arts, and many artisan crafts.  The Ithwonians had a fascination with time, to the point where they erected a gigantic monument called the rose chroniker in their capital city, Ithwon-Nâdi, that used natural light to display the time for all to see.  Its political system was the most measured, reasonable, benevolent, and kind, and, having been blessed with rich resources– from lush, thick evergreen forests, to a northern coastline teeming with fish, to an absolute embarrassment of precious gems and metals just waiting to be mined–few citizens of Ithwon wanted for much.  In fact, Ithwon-Nâdi was considered one of the most beautiful places in Amral, not least because it was made almost entirely of precious materials and glass.

Ashtabar was considered a war country.  Situated by the western sea, it was a fiery land full of volcanoes, lending it a perceived air of danger and foreboding to outsiders, who imagined it a desolate, magma-filled wasteland where inhabitants found joy in fighting to the death.  However, in reality, Ashtabar’s volcanic activity granted it particularly lush soil, and, unlike the first two nations, whose magic was so pure that it could only be channelled with training, the Ashtabarans could all manipulate the ground well enough to glean two harvests every year: one early summer, heated by the underground magma pools as much as the sun, and one in autumn, arriving at what most consider the “normal” time.  That being said, despite their agricultural abilities, Ashtabar did have a famously hot temper, often setting them at odds with calm-yet-stubborn Ithwon and, to a lesser extent, with idealistic Lamaera.  Their violent image was not entirely unwarranted.

Rhesch was the country of lakes, and its people, lacking the ability to truly tame such a wide, mostly unfarmable expanse, developed a much closer, symbiotic relationship with nature.  While their fishing trade thrived and some tiny farms did spring up, Rheschans generally survived using resources beyond their control.  In particular, the other nations stood in awe of the kharii, or lake-dragons, that inhabited each lake and fostered an amazingly close relationship with the Rheschans themselves.  Importantly, Rheschans’ self-sufficient nature (in the sense of not needing ample amounts of outside trade) left them largely uninvolved in foreign affairs, eventually rendering them completely indifferent to anything outside their borders.

Circin was the land of snow and mountains, situated farthest north and falling into a small strip of desert along its southern border.  The Circinians, despite having the fifth most polluted magic in Amral, undisputedly made the most practical use of it.  The conditions many of them lived in were intolerable to ordinary humans, so, over the years, much of their land’s magic went into giving them some immunity to the cold.  To supplement this, they became excellent with textiles, weaving intricate rugs for the bottom of their easily-portable tents (landslides were a constant threat) and fashioning amazing coats to balance the wearer’s temperature regardless of the weather.  They held a serious grudge against the Lamaerans–a sentiment strongly returned–because of various land wars between the warmth-desiring former and the height-loving latter.

Loprena was hill country.  Its people were famous for animal farming and sheep herding, as the nation was fully of grassy waves spreading out onto the horizon.  They could usually be found living in small villages in warm cottages, drinking locally-made beer and wine, holding dances, and just generally enjoying a quiet country life.  Most Loprenans had no desire to ever leave their little bubble, and there was almost no ambition to be found anywhere in the land.  Far from stagnating them, however, the people’s patent humility allowed them to remain ever at peace, a place of rest for the world-weary traveller.  And Loprenans loved travellers.  Far from being cloistered and small-minded, they were more than willing to accept just about anyone into their fold for any length of time.  That being said, they considered discussions of politics and economics to be in bad taste, and they would quickly change the subject whenever foreigners brought them news of the outside world.  They were, in truth, consummate small-country folk, but they were as loving and kind as any you’d ever meet.

Maranthall was the meadow country, full of prairies and wildflowers.  While there was some wild game to hunt, the land lacked the abundant natural resources its neighbors, leading some scholars to theorize that the richness of a land’s resources may have been related to the purity of its magic.  That being said, Maranthall was far from the least important nation, although it was certainly the least appreciated.  It was situated in the very center of Amral, rendering it the only completely landlocked nation, but this curse was also a blessing: it was ideally placed to benefit from trade.  Maranthall effectively ran the Amralan trading network, extracting fees from internationally-bound goods in exchange for quicker, safer passage.  Also, it stood as a neutral (yet still politically active) ground for mediating between hostile nations.  Delegates from Ithwon and Ashtabar often met on the fields of Maranthall, as did those from Lamaera and Circin.  Maranthall was the secret administrator of Amralan affairs: never thanked, rarely acknowledged, but vitally important to the continuance of world peace.

This has been a brief overview of Amral as it existed when Alkanion Ephenor, the hundredth king of Ithwon, was born.  His name will be recognizable to any familiar with Amralan history, or to any of those following the book being written about his exploits and conquests: The Radiant City.  Please reference that ongoing work for greater insight into how that one man–as noble as he was infamous–altered this history in indescribable ways.

Map of Amral at the Time of Alkanion Ephenor’s Birth