As recorded by the Imperial Chronicler’s Office, Azure Kingdom

You hold in your hands an account of the world as it stands in the year 900 AE.

I am a humble servant of the Imperator’s court, tasked with documenting the truths of our realm for those who wish to understand it. Whether you are a young noble preparing for service, a merchant navigating foreign lands, or a soldier needing to know what lies beyond our borders, let this chronicle serve as your guide. I will strive to write clearly, though clarity does not do the world of Lyorta justice.

Ours is a world shaped by the divine.

The gods created existence and set humanity upon it to thrive or struggle by our own efforts. The mysteries of their work are beyond mortal understanding. The Church teaches us to respect their creation and leave questions of origin to the priests. What matters is what they have left behind: a world of wonder and danger, and the challenge of building civilization within it.

I have worked in the chronicle office for thirty-two years. I have read accounts dating back to the founding of our Empire, studying the testimonies of explorers, generals, and priests. Still, when I try to describe our world to the uninitiated, I find myself searching for words that fit the task.

Begin, then, with the sky.

Look up on any clear day, and you will see not empty heavens but an ocean suspended above. Some call it the Great Ceiling, though it has many names in various languages. Its tides roll visibly overhead, and from it fall columns of water that feed our rivers and lakes before spilling over the edges of our islands into the void below. Three suns circle our world: Matsula, who brings spring’s balance; Abula, who scorches us with summer’s heat; and Dahula, who plunges us into the frozen dark. Each rules for seven years, a Tribulation, and wise rulers plan their wars and harvests accordingly. During certain phases of the month, the sky ignites with skyfire, a celestial storm that rumbles for days while the floating islands above cast their shadows across our lands.

The land itself would strike an outsider as both familiar and strange. We have forests, yes, but towering fungal spires grow alongside trees, their caps glowing faintly from within. Plants bloom in blues, oranges, and vivid reds. Green is just one of many colors. When night falls, the forests pulse with bioluminescence, and orbs of raw essence drift through ancient groves like will-o’-the-wisps. Old soldiers say you can read the mood of a region by the color of its essence: blue for peace and red for coming bloodshed. I am not superstitious, but I have learned not to dismiss such wisdom.

What makes our civilization possible, what separates us from the Wildlings who roam untamed places, is glyth. When essence crystallizes, it forms pink stones of remarkable power. Our ancestors learned to use these stones, and from this knowledge came everything: our airships, our machines, our weapons. The Azure Empire commands the greatest glyth fleet in the world. This is not boasting; it is simply a fact. Our military strength comes from our mastery of this resource.

But I am getting ahead of myself. A proper chronicle requires context.

History tells us that before mankind arose, other beings walked this world. Dragons ruled an age, or so the ancient texts say. Spirits live in realms adjacent to our own. The Wildlings, beast-touched peoples who came before humanity, spread across the land before we pushed them back. Then came mankind, and with us, the harnessing of magic and glyth, the forging of swords and nations. The Age of Darkness nearly destroyed everything. We survivors now live in a fragile recovery, nine centuries since the Empire’s founding, and we must remember how delicate our progress remains.

The geography of our world centers on four great landmasses. Azure Island, our homeland, dominates the west. Here, the Imperator reigns, and civilization burns brightest. To the east lies Marion Island, much of which falls under Imperial influence, though contested regions remain. Howl Island sprawls to the north, home to the Howl Republic, a nation of merchants and mercenaries who reject proper monarchy in favor of their chaotic councils. The Southern Kingdom stretches below, and scattered throughout the void between are the Stray Islands, some claimed, some wild, some harboring dangers best left alone.

I will not pretend the Empire stands unchallenged. The Howl Republic tests our northern borders with their fleets. The Balbora Alliance clings to independence on our western marches. In distant lands, powers such as the Dalmaskan Empire and the New Golgotha Empire pursue their own ambitions. And always, in the spaces between civilization, the Wildlings wait. Patient, primal, unforgiving. We do not mention the Dark World in polite company, but any honest chronicle must recognize that horrors lurk in realms next to our own, and the edges are not as firm as we might wish.

Yet I do not write this account to scare you. I write it because knowledge is the foundation of power, and properly wielded power is the foundation of order.

There is wonder in Lyorta. Adventurers explore uncharted skies and return with tales of floating ruins and sleeping dragons. Merchants grow wealthy navigating trade routes through dangerous winds. Scholars uncover secrets buried in ages past. Keepers, sacred warriors of the Church, purge corruption with righteous fire and protect the innocent from supernatural threats. Even in the Empire’s contested territories, even in the wild places, even in the shadow of our enemies, life continues. Love continues. Hope, stubborn and unyielding, continues.

The Imperator’s chroniclers record history so that those who follow might learn from it. So that the mistakes of fallen ages need not be repeated. So that when darkness rises, and it will rise, as it always does, we will be ready.

This, then, is Lyorta. A world of fractured kingdoms and ancient wounds. Of glyth light and essence-forged steel. Of skyfire and bioluminescent nights, with an ocean hanging overhead like a promise or a threat.

Read carefully. Remember what you learn.

The world does not forgive ignorance.