The Court
At the summit of the Dominion of the Peaks sits Aetherion, the imperial capital, a colossal fortress of polished onyx and recycled steel, perched atop the most titanic buildings restored with an opulence that defies the void below. Its slender spires pierce the perpetual clouds, its verdant terraces shelter hanging gardens and air ports teeming with airships whose sails flap like banners.
At the heart of this citadel floats the Imperial Court, a closed world of poisonous opulence and distilled venom where the precarious balance of all power is played out. Grand banquets under vaults illuminated by recycled crystal chandeliers, alliances sealed in the shadows of alcoves lined with silk, rumors whispered behind gold-embroidered fans: here, every word, every glance can elevate a noble house to the firmament or plunge it into oblivion.
The Emperor and the Empress theoretically reign over all of the Peaks, but their authority wavers under the weight of the sovereign's growing isolation and the voracious ambitions that gnaw at the Court from within. It is both the sparkling jewel of the Dominion... and its deepest, most dangerous fracture, where beauty often hides the cracks of an empire on the brink of collapse.
The Empress
The Empress embodies the unwavering splendor and calculated firmness of the throne, a figure of almost unreal beauty, dark hair cascading like a starry night, pale skin illuminated by the glow of torches, a slender silhouette draped in dresses made of precious fabrics, which attracts attention and commands immediate respect in every assembly, transforming the throne room into a theater where she is both the lead actress and the director.
Radiant and calculating at the same time, she presides over the Court daily with an unreal grace and an authority that brooks no challenge, receiving ambassadors from distant peaks laden with exotic gifts, influential merchants with coffers overflowing with relics, and ambitious lords with honeyed smiles, in the great throne room where the air is perfumed with rare incense, ancient stained glass windows cast multicolored flashes on the polished marble, and tapestries undulate slightly as if holding their breath.
Yet the most intimate whispers, slipped into alcoves or behind fans, evoke an ancient nostalgia for a sincere love now shattered by mutual intrigues and ambitions, and a hidden, deep, and consuming guilt in the face of the Emperor's growing isolation, as if she alone bore the weight of a vicious circle that they both helped to forge, a regret that sometimes crosses her sharp gaze as she contemplates the empty balconies opposite.
The Emperor
The Emperor, once charismatic and visionary, the unifying figure of a Dominion rising from the ruins of a collapsed world, the embodiment of a fragile hope that had rallied scattered factions around a common banner, had for years since withdrawn into the dark and oppressive labyrinth of his private apartments, becoming an invisible, almost mythical, in the eyes of the Court and the people, who now know him only through distorted accounts.
Rumors abound in the polished marble corridors, carried by the murmurs of servants and the whispers of courtiers: an incurable disease slowly eating away at him from within, a deliberate plunge into decadent and forbidden pleasures amid indistinct and oppressive sensual forms, or worse still, a mysterious, insidious transformation linked to the corrupting whispers of the Abyss, a strange power over probability or destiny that some see as a divine curse, others as a prophetic revelation heralding a new order for humanity.
His authority remains theoretically absolute, supported by impassive, silent scarlet guards who block any approach with unwavering determination, and by rare but relentless decrees, proclaimed by pale messengers with hoarse voices, emerging briefly from the shadows to impose the imperial will.
Yet his prolonged absence, this silence that weighs like a shroud on the fortress, creates a gaping and dangerous void that ambitious, greedy lords, cunning stewards, and rising factions seek to fill with hushed plots and secret alliances, transforming his name into a symbol as feared as it is contested, a ghost hovering over the Court as a constant and chilling reminder of the fragility of the throne, where his former love for the Empress seems to have been shattered under the weight of mutual ambitions and unspoken regrets.
Courtier and Intrigue
The Court is a constant, buzzing swarm of hereditary nobles, cunning stewards, ambassadors from powerful guilds, and fleeting favorites who have come from all corners of the realm to gravitate around the throne.
Fragile alliances are forged at grand balls where dancing masks negotiations, betrayals are plotted in dark alcoves or behind silk screens, and every imperial favor—a title, a trade contract, a private audience—can make or break a family fortune in a single evening.
Factions divide and reform constantly: some fiercely defend imperial tradition and the absolute purity of humanity in the face of rising shadows, while others openly scheme for more personal power or whisper secretly about the prophetic visions of the reclusive Emperor, seeing his isolation as a divine opportunity or a weakness to be exploited.
Venomous rumors, anonymous letters slipped under doors, spies disappearing in the labyrinthine corridors, and unexplained disappearances fuel constant tension, where a single misplaced word can trigger a crisis that shakes the entire Dominion.
The five major families
House Valtharion
House Elandor
House Corvath
HouseThalor
House Sylvaine
Imperial guards
Two elite corps, silent and terrifying, watch over the Court like living shadows:
The Emperor's Scarlet Guards, rare and impassive, dressed in blood-red livery, block access to his apartments like an impenetrable wall, obeying only orders whispered by pale, discreet figures.
The Empress's Masked Guards, silent and anonymous giants clad in armor adorned with imperial motifs, capable of executing a conspirator with a muffled gesture under the horrified gaze of the throne room.
Their constant presence commands icy respect and visceral fear, a constant reminder that imperial power, even weakened, can strike without warning or sound, transforming the splendor of the Court into a theater where loyalty is tested at every moment.
Current Tensions
The Court lives under growing, almost palpable pressure, like a storm that rumbles without breaking.
The prolonged isolation of the Emperor fuels deep divisions and underground conspiracies: anti-mutant factions, led by influential courtiers, demand decisive action against any rumors of corruption, while fascinated minorities whisper about his power as a vision of the future for humanity.
Cryptic messages delivered by pale silhouettes, infiltrated spies who disappear without a trace, imminent proclamations, and rare confrontations on facing balconies raise the political fever, dividing the Court into irreconcilable camps.
The Empress, torn between an unyielding duty to the Empire and ancient regrets for a bond broken by mutual ambition, attempts to maintain a fragile unity... but the entire Dominion holds its breath, sensing that the next decree, the next revelation, could tip everything into chaos or redemption.
