The Capital of Varenthal

The path down from the Veyrhund Span was far different than any of the previous towns. It wasn't like it was magical by any means like the bridge itself had been, but it felt like you were stepping into the land of the kingdom. 

The mist thinned slowly as they moved forward, giving way to open skies and sloping hills. The air warmed and the trees no longer curled all misshapen and wild. Everything leading to the capital felt maintained, giving off an elegant feeling. 

The road widened before them, no longer packed with dirt but with pale stone laid in perfect symmetry. On either side, tall black markers stood at regular mile intervals, each one etched with a curling silver sigil: nine pillars arranged in a semicircle with a crown hovering just above them 

Willow slowed, tracing the symbol with her fingers. "Nine pillars... What does that mean?" 

Bartholomew didn't even glance over. "Nine departments and the crown. Each one runs a different piece of the nation, a certain specialty for each place." 

Willow raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I hadn't learned much about here before, I never passed through this neck of the woods." 

Bartholomew gave a dry chuckle. "Most people don't. It's sort of a different type of process than most other nations partake in for leadership duties. You see, here, the king has a type of cabinet that maintains some sort of duty or role and reports to the group what's going on so that they can make decisions based on it." 

"The Supreme Leader holds the highest authority," Bart said. "But they're not a king in the traditional sense. Not elected either. They're appointed from one of the nine pillars, which is done to expose the people to the next leader many years before and help them grow into their position." 

"Each pillar, or department, oversees a domain such as agriculture, justice, defense, all that stuff. The ruler has a weighted vote of eight votes, which means if the group doesn't agree with a policy, then all nine departments need to vote unanimously against the ruler." 

Gus furrowed his brow. "Wait, so the departments can overturn the ruler?" 

"Only if all nine of them agree," Bartholomew said, holding up his fingers. "Unanimous rejection. Otherwise, the Supreme Leader's decision stands." 

Joren chimed in. "So they've got power, but not too much power?" 

"Exactly," Bart nodded. "Balance is maintained through loyalty and structure." 

Willow crossed her arms. "But what about the people? Do they get any say in who leads them as a ruler?" 

Bartholomew shrugged. "Somewhat, but not directly. It's not like the successor is a mystery. They're usually announced years in advance by the one who leads the Department of Continuity. Folks know what they're getting, because that's the only department where the leader comes from." 

"So… no elections, but no surprises either," Joren said. 

"Right," Bart replied. "The idea is that each department head earns their place through merit and service, including the Department of Continuity. When they choose a head of the department, it's someone the public has watched rise through the ranks. Someone who already reflects the department's values." 

Gus scratched his chin. "So the ruler always comes from that one department?" 

Bartholomew nodded. "Traditionally, yes. The Department of Continuity and Civic Integrity's whole purpose is to maintain the ethical nature of the nation. They are seen as neutral, observant, and trusted. That's why their leader is usually chosen as the next Supreme." 

Willow tilted her head. "Why not someone from Defense or Trade? Wouldn't that be more practical?" 

"It's about stability," Bart said. "Continuity's job is to preserve public trust and memory. They're not caught up in ambition, whereas if the ruler was from Defense, they might hold bias towards certain things and ignore other departments in favor of theirs." 

Joren spoke up again. "So what if a department head is doing bad things in secret?" 

"Then that's where the Continuity department comes back into play. If someone is not fit to be leading an organization like that, then they are removed from power and the next in line is up." 

Gus let out a low whistle. "Sounds like a lot of pressure just to keep folks calm." 

"Pressure's the point," Bart replied. "The whole system's designed to make sure no one gets too comfortable in power, with a checks and balances system to maintain trust. 

Joren nodded slowly. "So everything is built on the idea that if you train your replacement well, the system holds." 

"Exactly," Bart said. "It's not just about running things. It's about making sure the next person can run them after you're gone." 

Gus huffed. "So what happens if no successor is named?" 

Bartholomew paused for a beat. "It physically isn't possible. Each branch has a hierarchy just like a business. The head is the one who sits at the table for policies, while the manager or one below them runs all the people who work on their expertise." 

Willow furrowed her brow. "So even if the top person disappears, the structure just absorbs the hit?" 

"Pretty much," Bart said. "Think of it like a relay race. The baton always moves forward. If the lead stumbles, someone's already running behind them to take over." 

Joren looked thoughtful. "So it's not about relying on one person to know everything, It's about making sure that the system is always running with people who understand it." 

Bartholomew gave a small nod. "That's the heart of it." 

The road ahead widened further, leveling out as it curved gently around a ridge. Terraced farmlands stretched down the slopes, each field separated by smooth stone ridges that guided irrigation channels with near-mechanical precision. Pale cloth banners marked each plot with silver symbols, codes for crop rotation cycles, Gus guessed. 

He started pointing now. "That must be barley over there. That down there's rotated crops to keep the soil healthy. Someone's managing this by the book." 

Joren scanned the valley below, spotting a square building nestled into the hills. Its walls were white stone, but its roof shimmered silver under the sun. A few figures walked along the perimeter, tending to vines growing up the side. 

"What's that building?" Gus asked. 

"A seed archive, maybe," Bart offered. "Or a soil analysis hall. Could even be a grafting station if they do that by the fields." 

Gus paused, then added with a sheepish grin, "Back in Glazebend, I just piled my tomato vines on a ladder and prayed." 

Joren chuckled. "At Hazel's, we used fence wire and wove them throughout to keep it sturdy and give it room to grow. This looks like something out of a textbook." 

Bart hummed in agreement. "That's central governance for you. In the capital zones, they don't leave much to chance." 

Gus crossed his arms, taking in the view. "Feels weird seeing it all so… clean. Back in our towns, it's all just local hands doing what they can." 

Bartholomew glanced back at them. "You were in the outer reaches, usually called the territories. Most people out there don't even see people from a department more than once in their lifetime. The capital tries to keep everything running smooth, but they tend to keep it local unless its super big stuff." 

Joren nodded slowly. "Yeah, in Brindlewood I had seen government hunters twice, likely from the Department of Defense or Justice. I could never really tell what their insignia showed." 

Bartholomew let out a low hum. "Could've been either. Justice handles law, court rulings, all that legal process. Defense deals with enforcement, especially when it comes to Auspex containment. Though, that's often on a smaller scale. Varenthal doesn't have a lot of people under it's belt that can handle Harbinger or higher." 

Joren's gaze drifted back to the shimmering farmland below. It was so peaceful, it didn't seem like a place that ever dealt with chaos. "Does the capital ever send help to the territories?" 

"Sometimes," Bart replied. "When the risk's high enough to reach the core lands. If a town were to experience a severe storm, they would often send people to help rebuild enough for them to then leave." 

Afternoon – Varenthal Outskirts 

They continued walking, the sound of birdsongs starting to take shape and give life to this land none of them had been to before. 

Silos and storage chambers glinted in the sun. A wagon caravan trundled up one of the pathways, pulled by two horses with ornate saddles. 

Willow watched them for a moment. "Are those crests on their harnesses?" 

Bartholomew squinted, then nodded. "Department of Trade and Foreign Relations. They manage supply runs, regulate exports, all that. My guess is they're hauling grain toward the nearest town to sell." 

As the wagon creaked past, one of the younger riders standing atop the crates turned and called to a nearby worker in one of the fields. 

"Hey Grandis, this year's book was just released today. Check it out at our shop when you get the chance, they will probably sell out by the end of the week and won't be in for another month!" 

Willow tilted her head. "He must be talking about the Auspex book, huh?" 

Bartholomew nodded, eyes following the cart as it rumbled away. "Bingo Book, more or less. The nation of Varenthal has an alliance with a few other major places and they compile all the information they have each year." 

Gus blinked. "Wait, you're saying it's not just from here?" 

"Nope," Bartholomew said. "That's why the registration in that book is not a good sign. You can be recognized across the world if you are seen as extremely dangerous." 

Willow frowned. "But I thought not all Auspex were hunted?" 

"They're not," Bart said. "Not automatically. It's more or less an encyclopedia for the public, which hunters tend to use as reference when they are sent after one in particular." 

Gus scratched the side of his head. "So anyone can read it?" 

"Yeah," Bartholomew replied. "It's sold like any other registry. Big cities, trade posts, even traveling vendors carry it. Each edition lists descriptions, abilities, known locations, anything that might help identify or avoid them." 

That's not good, I need to get my hands on one of those and see if I got put on it. 

Joren shuddered at the thought. 

How many had already seen him in Glazebend? How many might've whispered his name after that swamp beast? What about after Lysaire or Fon-Doom? 

He didn't say anything, but the quiet that settled over him said enough.