Tyr in the Age of Freedom

Ten years ago, Kalak, the Sorcerer-King of Tyr, was overthrown by a coalition of rebels and mercenaries. Since then, the city has weathered the storm of political upheaval and power struggles, emerging as a free city-state with a fragile system of governance.

Year 1: The Aftermath

The Great Compromise

The very day of Kalak's fall, a chaotic and dangerous period began. Rikus and his allies had no particular plan for the power structure to follow. The revolutionaries wanted to abolish the monarchy forever, and establish a house of common representatives. Tithian emerged as the loudest royalist voice, insisting that the city needed a single, powerful ruler. The templars had long served as the font of law and order in the city, and they would not serve a mass of commoners--but they would serve him, as they'd done loyally for many years.

Another debate raged on the disposition of the many political prisoners currently overflowing the city's dungeons. Kalak's apprentices--those who hadn't died or fled--were awaiting trial, as were countless collaborators and war criminals. Previously, justice was either meted out on the spot by templars, or, in the case of nobles and particularly important prisoners, by Kalak himself. Now, with the city in chaos and no clear authority, there was a risk of mob justice and lynchings. Tithian insisted this matter required a king, naturally, while Rikus and his allies wanted to establish a people's court, with representatives from various factions and neighborhoods. The templars, for their part, were more concerned with maintaining order and preventing violence, and they leaned towards Tithian's proposal, as it would allow them to continue their role as enforcers of the law.

A compromise was reached. Tyr would have a king, with Tithian taking the throne, but his power would be checked by the Senate--a previously vestigial body with a representative from each of the city's noble houses. The Senate would be expanded to include representation from the common and merchant castes as well, each holding 1/3 of the seats. Together, the Senate had the power to veto the king's decisions in peacetime, and, with a great enough super-majority, to remove him from power. Tithian would be required to appoint a Council of Advisors, who would be confirmed by the Senate, and would be tasked with executing various aspects of governance, such as economic policy, foreign relations, and public works. A formal court system would be established, with the requirement for fair trials and due process, although the nobles retained the privilege of only being tried by their peers. The templars would continue to serve as the city's law enforcement, but would no longer have the authority to execute prisoners without trial, and would be subject to oversight by the Senate and the Council of Advisors. The king's succession would be worked out later in detail, but it was made clear his heir would not automatically inherit his throne, and that the Senate would be involved.

The Urgent Matter

Highest on the list of revolutionary priorities, after the fall of Kalak himself, was the abolition of slavery. The revolutionaries had long been vocal about their desire to end the practice, and it was a central rallying point for their cause. However, the economic realities of the city made immediate abolition a daunting prospect. The city's economy was heavily reliant on slave labor, particularly in the agricultural and mining sectors, and the sudden loss of this workforce would have led to widespread economic collapse. Tithian, recognizing the importance of a stable economy for the city's recovery, proposed a gradual approach to abolition, with a focus on transitioning slaves into indentured servants and eventually free citizens. This proposal was met with fierce opposition from the revolutionaries, who saw it as a betrayal of their ideals and a perpetuation of the very system they had fought against. Tensions between Tithian and the revolutionaries escalated, leading to protests and clashes in the streets, as well as a growing divide between the city's ruling class and its working class.

Tithian's response to the growing unrest was to crack down on dissent, using the newly established court system to prosecute those who incited unrest or criticized his policies too harshly. This led to a tense atmosphere in the city, with many fearing for their safety and freedom of expression. The revolutionaries, feeling increasingly marginalized and oppressed, organized a large protest demanding immediate abolition, and the abdication of Tithian. The protest turned violent, with clashes between the protesters and the templars, and Tithian was physically confronted by Rikus and his allies. The confrontation was intense, with Rikus and his allies narrowly avoiding regicide, but ultimately, diplomacy prevailed, and the protest ended without further bloodshed. Against Tithian's preferences, abolition was declared, and the city was thrown into economic chaos, as he expected.

As if cursed by fate, the city was visited in the earliest days of this new economic crisis by a potentially worse one. Borys, the Sorcerer-King of Ur Draxa, sent a delegation to Tyr--more heavily armed than usual--to politely ask Tithian for the 1,000 slaves that were due as part of the annual tithe. Every Sorcerer-King, including Kalak, reliably paid this tithe, a hefty cost to fuel the magical ritual keeping Raajat from reawakening and annihilating Athasian civilization. The delegation noted that Tyr's status as a "free city" was quaint, but irrelevant, and that the agreement was clear: 1,000 bodies would be given, or they would be taken. Tithian was of a mind to comply, considering the overwhelmingly negative consequences for refusing, but the people were not so sure. There were no slaves to donate, only free citizens. There certainly wasn't time to hold trials for 1,000 or more people to sentence them to such a thing; there weren't even that many prisoners facing the death penalty in the first place. Tithian begged for time and leniency--perhaps other cities could contribute a bit more this year, and Tyr could make good in future. This was a non-starter for Borys.

Facing a very literal deadline, Tithian took executive action. The templars rounded up every prisoner accused of violent crime, and held a rapid series of trials to sentence them to death via sacrifice. Others ranged through the wilds near the city, rounding up bandits and other outlaws to be offered up as well. It still wasn't quite enough to meet the quota. Thus, the city's poor were allowed to sell their own sick and disabled family members, a practice widely condemned, but taken up by plenty of desperate people. Tithian defended all of this as a necessary evil, and insisted that the city would find a more sustainable solution in the future. While Borys' delegation ultimately left in peace with their 1,000 bodies, the shadow of next year's tithe loomed large, and the one after that, etc.

Equilibrium

The economic crisis continued, but proved an acute phenomenon, as a simple, unpleasant solution was found. Every former slave was now homeless and jobless, but many thousands of new jobs had suddenly been created on farms, in mines, and in other labor-intensive industries. The slaves needed work, but even more urgently, they needed food and shelter. Land-owning nobles, merchant princes, and other capitalists offered a solution: newly-empty slave quarters could be a home, after all, and they generously extended credit to their new employees to move in at once. Of course, these new indentured servants would be working off the debt of their room and board for many years to come, as wages were necessarily kept at rock bottom--after all, they used to be zero.

The situation is exacerbated by the continued arrival of escaped slaves from other city-states. Some paid various prices to be smuggled out, some simply ran away, and a few even purchased their freedom. Regardless, they're all migrating to Tyr, the only city where they won't be forced back into servitude. They find a welcoming ideology, but a harsh reality. The city is already struggling to provide for its existing population, and the influx of new residents only adds to the strain on resources and infrastructure. Many of the new arrivals end up in overcrowded and unsanitary conditions, leading to outbreaks of disease and increased crime rates. The city's government, already stretched thin, struggles to keep up with the demands of its growing population, leading to further unrest and dissatisfaction among the citizens.

Year 2-4: Slow and Steady Progress

Tithian's policies start to show results, and most critics reluctantly admit that the city is on a path to recovery. As poor as the pay and conditions that former slaves endures may be, they are happier now, and a few have even managed some modest upward mobility. The King's popularity has slowly recovered, and the government has achieved a measure of stability. With that stability, merchants have restored trade routes, and with a surplus of cheap labor, many new projects have been undertaken.

Water Reclamation

Like all Athasian city-states, Tyr is architected around one thing above all else: water conservation. In the city itself, there is no soil, save sanctioned gardens and cropland. Every surface is stone, gravel, sand, or otherwise sealed against water intrusion, so that when rain falls, it drains predictably into a citywide system of cisterns and reservoirs, where it is stored and distributed as needed. While this has worked well enough in the past, there were two major problems.

Firstly, the system is dependent on rainfall--something that is not common in any Athasian city. The Sorcerer-King's greatest claim to fame was his ability to cast mighty spells to force rain to fall, but without him, even large circles of powerful mages have only partially duplicated this feat.

Second, through centuries of guile, diplomacy, and good old fashioned bribery, nobles and merchant princes have cajoled special water privileges for their estates and businesses, siphoning off more than their fair share of the city's water supply, and leaving the common people to make do with whatever is left. In the wake of the revolution, there has been intense public pressure to curtail these excesses, and make life's most precious resource more equitably distributed. Tithian, to his credit, agrees in principle, although curtailing noble privelege by fiat has proven impossible, given the Senate's ability to stonewall him.

To address both issues, Tithian has direct funds and labor toward projects to improve the city's water infrastructure. While the new system is technically superior, it is also designed to distribute water throughout the city equally, so that any given household or estate cannot guarantee they got "first dibs" on the water supply. The specific wording of the various noble privileges--when even written down--is vague enough that the new system doesn't technically violate them, but it does make it impossible for anyone to take advantage of them. The public has been thrilled with this development, and Tithian's popularity has soared as a result. However, the noble and merchant classes have done everything they can to stall the project, up to and including hiring mercenaries to intimidate workers and sabotage construction sites. Tithian can arrest individual saboteurs, but can't finger any of the power players behind them. The project was already expected to take at least 2 years, but now could run well past 5.

Another, bolder initiative has been proposed, but within this timeframe, remains in the planning and funding stages. Tyr sits within clear sight of the Ringing Mountains, which are tall enough to receive snowfall. Historically, aqueducts were often proposed, and a few were attempted, but the goliath population in the mountains usually made the prospect too thorny; and after all, Kalak could just fall back on his magic. Many have proposed--especially in the post-Kalak age--that it was never truly impossible to build an aqueduct, but rather that the Sorcerer-King had no incentive to do so. Being the sole provider of life-giving water made him more essential to the city than any role as a protector or provider of justice and order.

In this new age, it has rapidly become apparent that an aqueduct is not only feasible, but necessary. The project is expected to take at least a decade, and will require a massive investment of resources and labor, but it promises to provide a reliable source of water for the city, independent of rainfall. The aqueduct will be designed to withstand the harsh desert conditions, and will include features to prevent sabotage and ensure equitable distribution of water. The project has been met with enthusiasm from the public, who see it as a symbol of the city's resilience and determination to thrive in the face of adversity. Unlike the rainfall catchment system, the merchant class are generally in favor of the aqueduct, largely because their capital will be required to construct it, and they will be able to profit immensely from its construction and maintenance. The noble class is less enthusiastic, as water rights have an indirect but important link to their power; as the only major landowners, they have a vested interest in maintaining control over the city's water supply. If water becomes abundant, then just about anyone can grow crops, and the nobles' land becomes less valuable.

An important part of the project is dealing with the goliath population in the Ringing Mountains. Some tribes have been happy to trade and deal with Tyr in the past, but building dams and artificial waterways is a pretty major escalation, that won't go down well with all of them. To make thins worse, the only viable routes for the waterway involve tribal lands that are home to less friendly goliaths. Tithian has sent envoys to the various tribes, offering trade and other incentives in exchange for safe passage for workers and materials. Some tribes have been receptive to these offers, while others have been more resistant, viewing the project as an encroachment on their territory. Tithian has been careful to avoid any actions that could be seen as aggressive or disrespectful towards the goliaths, but tensions remain high, and there is always the risk of conflict. And as ever, he prepares for that eventuality as well, for if Tyr must take the land by force, they will.

Policing Crisis

In the first year of Tithian's reign, the city was in a state of chaos, with crime rates skyrocketing and the templars struggling to maintain order. While the Templars have largely been willing and eager to fulfill their purpose, even with restrictions on their former privilege, they are fewer in number, with many dying in the revolution itself, and others refusing to serve without their prior privileges. Training templars is a long and expensive process, and the city has not been able to keep up with demand.

Earlier, they established a civilian police force, which has by this point been able to provide a baseline of law enforcement, with templars service more as elite forces, investigators, and, when necessary, onsite judges. By this point, the city's order is restored, but the police force has not proven anywhere near as effective outside the walls.

Templars have always cross-trained for action both inside and outside the city; it's part of why their training is so costly and lengthy. And while they are still extensively used for policing the farmlands and the wastes beyond, it's just too much land to cover. At first, the city relied on a loose, ever-changing network of mercenaries and hired scouts to range the wastes, but this was inefficient and not very effective.

The solution was proposed in Free Year 2: a compromise between irregular mercenaries and a professional police force. No longer would the city hire ad hoc mercenaries. Instead, citizens in good standing can apply for a Guild Charter, which would allow them to form an adventuring guild. These guilds would be licensed and regulated by the city, and would be responsible for providing security and law enforcement in the areas outside the city walls. In exchange for their services, the guilds would receive certain privileges, such as qualified immunity and access to city resources. The guilds would also be required to adhere to a code of conduct, and would be subject to oversight by the city's Council of Advisors.

Many such guilds were founded, and many proved unable to meet the demands of their charter, but a few have thrived, and have become an integral part of the city's security apparatus. These guilds range from small, specialized groups that focus on specific types of threats, to larger, more generalist organizations that provide a wide range of services. The guilds have been successful in providing security and law enforcement in the areas outside the city walls, and have helped to restore order and stability to the region. However, there have been some concerns about the potential for abuse of power by the guilds, and there have been instances of corruption and misconduct. The government's stance is that, by allowing free competition between the guilds, market forces will keep them in check, and that any bad actors will be weeded out by the public. The guilds themselves have generally been cooperative with this approach, as they rely on public support and trust to operate effectively.

The Tithe

Tithian was blindsided by the Tithe in year one. He intended not to make the same mistake twice.

Early in Year 2, he laid the legal framework for the Tithe, declaring that the city would meet its obligations to Borys, but that it would be done in a way that was consistent with the city's new status as a free city. He established a Tithe Commission, which was tasked with overseeing the collection and delivery of the Tithe, and ensuring that it was done in a way that was humane and respectful of the city's citizens. The Commission was given broad powers to investigate and prosecute any violations of the Tithe laws, and to ensure that the city's obligations were met without causing undue harm to its citizens.

The system itself remained similar to the original ad hoc approach. Namely:

In Year 2, the city met its obligations to Borys without incident, and the Tithe Commission was praised for its efficient and humane handling of the process. However, decreasing crime rates, increasing public health and worker safety, and increasing effectiveness of policing the wastes meant that the quota was coming up short in Year 3. Options were floated, including an offensive war against a neighboring city-state to capture prisoners, but Tithian ultimately decided to double down on the volunteer program, and to increase the stipend for volunteers, as well as remove any medical prerequisite for adults of sound mind.

The public's reaction has been mixed. Some see the volunteer program as a humane and responsible way to meet the city's obligations, while others view it as a cynical attempt to exploit vulnerable citizens. There have been some protests and calls for reform of the Tithe system, but Tithian has remained steadfast in his commitment to meeting the city's obligations while also protecting its citizens. The Tithe Commission continues to monitor the situation closely, and is prepared to make adjustments as needed to ensure that the city's obligations are met without causing undue harm.

The Crimson Legion

The revolution did not end with Kalak's death; even after the various riots and flashpoints cooled off, the revolution smoldered quietly over time. The revolutionaries had hoped that the fall of Kalak would inspire similar uprisings in other city-states, but the reality was more complicated. While there were some small-scale protests and acts of rebellion in other cities, they were quickly suppressed by the Sorcerer-Kings, who were far more willing to admit the danger after Kalak's folly. And since every slave able to slip away from bondage already migrated to Tyr, there were few potential revolutionaries left in other cities to take up the cause.

This led to an idea as obvious as it was doomed: if the revolution couldn't spread organically, it could be spread by force. With the support of some of the more militant revolutionaries, Rikus proposed a campaign to export the revolution to other city-states, starting with Urik, which was geographically closest and had a large population of slaves. Tithian was vehemently opposed to this idea, arguing that Tyr needed to focus on its own recovery and stability, and that any attempt to spread the revolution would only invite retaliation from the other Sorcerer-Kings. He also pointed out that Kalak's downfall was due in large part to his own incompetence and mismanagement, and that other Sorcerer-Kings were going to be far more aware of danger given that one of their own had fallen. Rikus, however, was undeterred, and argued that the revolution needed to be proactive in order to succeed, and that waiting for other cities to rise up on their own was a recipe for stagnation and eventual failure.

In the end, all the political pressure from the revolutionaries couldn't move the needle. Tithian remained staunchly opposed, and Senate support for the attack was minimal, even among the commoner class. The guilds were expressly forbidden to participate in actual warfare, and Tithian made sure they were aware of this as the movement fomented.

Ultimately, the revolutionaries simply took matters into their own hand. Donning ad hoc uniforms based on the revolution's color--red--they formed an irregular army known as the Crimson Legion, over 5,000 strong. With Rikus as their general, they made their own way to Urik, where they attempted to incite a rebellion among the slaves there.

It did not end well.

Even if King Hamanu of Urik somehow couldn't have predicted the attack (he did), there was no end to the number of helpful Tyrians who were more than happy to inform him of the plot. Hamanu's forces were well-prepared for the attack, and in his brilliance, he planned a trap for the rebels. The Legion found a city with unguarded gates, absent city guards, and "revolutionaries" chanting in the streets for Hamanu's downfall. Breaking ranks, the Legion filed into the narrow streets, intermixing with the local "revolutionaries" and offering their services in liberating the city.

Urik's revolutionaries were loyal soldiers, playing a mummer's farce. The legion was disorganized, with no formation or communication lines. Hamanu wasn't trapped inside the city with them, they were trapped inside it with him.

Many legionaires died, but most surrendered, and would be largely sold into slavery, minus a few leaders who were executed as a precaution. Rikus himself was captured, but not executed, for fear of making him a martyr.

While tension had already existed between Urik and Tyr, this brazen attack gave Hamanu every excuse he could need to declare war on Tyr, and demand that Tithian either appoint a new Sorcerer-King, or allow Urik to do so themselves. His army, already mobilized, marched on Tyr and began to build siege camps. He sent out diplomatic envoys to invite Tithian to negotiate, but he had immense leverage, given the circumstances. While Urik has never had Tyr's population, and has long dependend on Tyr for iron to outfit its elite soldiers, it did have something Tyr didn't: a Sorcerer-King.

Tithian, under immense pressure from the Senate and the public, eventually knuckled under, offering steep economic concessions and a promise to crack down on the revolutionaries. Rikus was not repatriated, and Tithian used the templars to crack down on all revolutionary activity, declaring it to be treason, and any further revolutionary activity to be terrorism.

Hamanu made a show of being displeased, and still publicly advocated for the city to find a new Sorcerer-King, lest someone from outside Tyr appoint one for them. Despite the strongly implied threat, he seemed to be satisfied in private. In the world of realpolitik, he needs Tyr to continue existing, and has no greater ally amongst the city-states. And having Tyr be a constant middle finger to the other city-states directs attention away from him toward the so-called Free City.

The outcome of the Crimson Legion's failed invasion was predictable, and few were surprised, but the morale loss and direct economic shock eliminated all of the good will Tithian had slowly built up over the years. Without a force of thousands of battle-hardened soldiers and gladiators, the revolution didn't have the teeth to go for Tithian's throat, but that didn't mean they weren't going to start making plans.

Year 5: The Little Revolution That Couldn't

The original revolution, as is often the case, was a coalition of mistreated slaves, gladiators, laborers and common folk, with a small core of idealistic, well-educated bourgeoisie. With the Crimson Legion gone, the remainder were mostly of the latter persuasion. They had a new identity, and needed a new name: The Crimson Dawn.

The revolution transformed from a mass of boots on the ground, to a covert network of back-room deals, kingmaking, and propaganda. Merchants and nobles who were sympathetic to the cause, or more importantly, who were profiting from the new paradigm, were courted or coerced into supporting the movement. Propaganda could sway the commoners' vote, and money moved the merchants into formation. With a few key noble families on board, the revolution could take power peacefully through the Senate, and without the need for a violent coup. The revolutionaries had learned from the mistakes of the past, and were determined to avoid the pitfalls that had led to their previous failure.

And so, in Year 5, their boldest move since Kalak's fall, and the most likely to succeed: a Senate motion was passed to establish an official hearing, which could in turn result in a vote of no confidence in Tithian passed. The clock began to tick on Tithian's reign, and the revolutionaries had a clear path to victory. However, they also knew that Tithian would not go down without a fight, and that he would likely use every tool at his disposal to cling to power. The hearing was expected to be contentious, with both sides presenting their arguments and evidence, and with the potential for violence if things got out of hand.

To that end, they courted the guilds. While the guilds were bound to obey the laws of Tyr, and not to participate in politics, they argued convincingly that any extralegal action by Tithian to retain his power would be a violation of the city's laws, and that they would doing their duty by intervening to prevent such a thing. Some were eager to get involved on principle, while others were succored by promises of greater powers and privileges in the new regime.

Before the actual vote could be held, an important issue had to be resolved: the question of who would succeed Tithian if he were removed from power. The issue had been tabled for years, with every attempt to resolve it leading to deadlock and chaos, but there was no delaying it any further. The Senate preferred simply having the sole authority to crown any new monarchs; previously, they were split between that and an up/down vote on an appointed successor, but in this case, it seemed too risky to let a potentially outgoing king nominate someone hand-picked to either abdicate right back to him, or exact vengeance on whoever voted him out.

The Crimson Dawn had a clear favorite: Sadira. A companion of Rikus and a war hero in her own right, she not only helped bring down Kalak, but bested the Sorcerer-Queen Abalach-Re of Raam in single combat. For much of the last 5 years, many have openly wondered why a mere templar gets to be the King of Tyr, and not Sadira the Sorcerer-Queen. If besting a Sorcerer-Queen in single combat isn't a good enough reason to be crowned, then what is?

For her part, Sadira has loudly pushed back against the idea of her becoming queen, insisting that she has no interest in ruling, and that her place is on the battlefield, fighting for the people. She was a fierce advocate for democracy during the revolution, and has been a vocal critic of the idea of monarchy in general, so taking the throne herself wouldn't have sent the right message--at least until Tithian ended up doing just that. Still, since the revolution, she has notably changed; she became a Solarian, and her arcane power has obviously increased dramatically, as underscored by her defeat of Abalach-Re. She has also become more politically savvy, and has been seen meeting with various nobles and merchants in private, leading to speculation that she may be more open to the idea of ruling than she lets on.

There's just one problem with Sadira: she's a commoner. And that's only because the caste of her birth no longer legally exists: she was born a slave. While it isn't exactly written that the monarch must be noble-born, it's just unthinkable that it would be otherwise. It also isn't written that the king must have a physical body and breathe oxygen--it's just assumed. And not only is she a commoner, but she's also a religious zealot. The Solarians are considered dangerous fanatics by many in the city, and while everyone appreciates her contributions to the revolution, there are concerns about what kind of ruler she would be, given the ethos of her order.

The propaganda was easy enough to write. Hamanu and the others make no secret of their intentions; Tyr needs a defender who can stand against the Sorcerer-Kings. And Sadira is probably the only being in the world who can fight a Sorcerer-King, without ruling like one. After all, who is fit to rule but she who does not wish it? The propaganda was indirectly targeted at her, by incepting the idea that the people should demand her to take the throne as a duty, not award it as an honor. With this narrative, the commoners began to come around.

The upper classes were a tougher sell. Sure, the merchants went wherever the coins flowed, but they weren't convinced Sadira was the right choice. Tithian was a hardass, but his ruthless discipline and conventional (dogwhistle for "noble-born") education made him a wise ruler in the long run. The next king would have to meet an even higher bar, helping the city grow while avoiding the constant negative press and subsequent crackdowns. A man who rose through the ranks of the templars knows his politics, but a jumped-up slave with magic sun powers? How much political frustration will she endure before she just starts blasting?

The nobles were even more resistant. They had already lost their privileged status as the only ones who could be king, and now they were being asked to accept a commoner, and a religious zealot at that, as their ruler? It was unthinkable. They argued that Sadira's lack of noble blood made her unfit to rule, and that her religious beliefs would lead to a theocratic dictatorship. They also pointed out that Tithian had been a competent ruler, and that there was no need to replace him with someone who was untested and potentially dangerous. In the face of such a suggestion, their support for the vote of no confidence was lukewarm at best, and the entire peaceful revolution was called into question.

After an attempt to gather support for his own nomination didn't pan out, Senator Dakhan of House Al'im proposed a different candidate, one more appealing to the noble class: Abdul, former apprentice of Kalak and a powerful sorcerer in his own right. Abdul was noble-born, and had been one of Kalak's most promising students, but was hardly in contention for the throne five years ago as he was in legal limbo, awaiting a hearing to determine if he'd been a traitor or a loyalist during the revolution. He was ultimately cleared of any wrongdoing, but his association with Kalak made him a controversial figure, and he had been largely sidelined in the years since. In fact, he had since joined Phoenix Dawn, one of the city's adventuring guilds, and while he could simply resign from the guild to be eligible for office, it didn't exactly suit the spirit of that law.

The commoners were not thrilled with Abdul as a candidate, given his association with Kalak and his lack of involvement in the revolution. They also had concerns about his political views and his potential to be a puppet of the noble class. To most, it seemed like a stepping stone back to the old status quo, as Abdul could easily himself become the next Sorcerer-King, or at least his ascent could establish a precedent leading there. The nobles, on the other hand, were more receptive to Abdul, as he was a known quantity and had the right pedigree. They argued that he had the experience and knowledge to be an effective ruler, and that his association with Kalak was not necessarily a disqualifying factor; one need only look at Tithian's various misjudgments of the other Sorcerer-Kings, something Abdul would never do. They also pointed out that Tithian's policies had been largely successful, and that there was no need to replace him with someone who was untested and potentially dangerous. After all, the whole issue that threatened Tithian's reign was his weakness in the face of foreign threats, and Abdul's magical prowess would be a powerful deterrent against any such threats in the future.

Of course, amidst all this disagreement, nobody asked Sadira and Abdul if they actually wanted to rule. Neither did, to be honest. Hypothetically, either might rise to the call if it were absolutely necessary, out of a sense of duty, but neither preferred that outcome, and both used the public attention they got as a way to urge caution, and remind the people that Tithian had not even been voted out yet.

Ultimately, all the uncertainty and disagreement led to a stalemate. The vote of no confidence was held, but it failed to reach the necessary threshold to remove Tithian from power. The revolutionaries were disappointed, but they were undeterred. They had the right approach, but they needed to make sure they had the right candidate, and the right narrative to sell to the public. They continued to try to groom Sadira for succession, but they began to formulate a new plan: the young Rkard, son of Rikus, was a malleable youth and an invaluable symbol of the revolution.

Year 6-10: The Long Game

After the failed vote of no confidence, both the Crimson Dawn and Tithian himself were diminished, with much rebuilding to do. Tithian's popularity was still suffering from the disastrous outcome of the war with Urik, and to make it worse, the economic cost of that loss had stalled his infrastructure projects, which would otherwise be coming online now and building good will and economic benefits. Still, templar's gonna templar, and his approach was predictable: keep calm and soldier on. Slow and steady.

Emboldened by their near-coup, the Senate became more vocal and assertive. While they'd had statutory powers for five years, they rarely did much besides comment on the King's policies and rubber-stamp his appointees. This new Senate had teeth, and would not only push back, but pass their own legislation, which he could either endorse, or risk another vote against him. The tail began to wag the dog.

The New Senate

In this new Senate, new leaders emerged. Dakhan had taken a very public stance against the king already, so he naturally slotted into the role of leader of the opposition. A rich nobleman himself, he had plenty of friends among the upper classes, and was happy to shamelessly use his wealth to buy support among the commoners. Despite being a collaborator with Kalak, his snake-like slipperiness and implacable charisma had earned him a clean legal bill of health in his hearings after the revolution, and helped him sell a narrative about how everything he done was all in the name of the greater good. He's even found believers for his idea that his own harsh treatment of slaves and revolutionaries was all part of a secret master plan to get them to rise up and overthrow Kalak, and that he was just a step ahead of the revolutionaries the whole time. While his political motivations are obvious to anyone savvy, he successfully sells his image as a dutiful public servant, whose love for Tyr is so great that, should the people demand it, he would gladly make the sacrifice of taking the throne.

The Templars' Crisis

Meanwhile, the templars have been navigating a slow-burn crisis for 5 years. Theirs is a religious order, but no god or primate stands at the head of their church, because that position belongs to the Sorcerer-King. While they swear allegiance to the throne of Tyr, as it is legally the throne their Sorcerer-King patron used to sit, they do not worship the mundane King Tithius. They have a hierarchy, and ancient traditions, and a plentiful budget--but they lack a central figurehead. Into this void, many ideas have been put forth, from converting to the worship of the general concept of law and order (on brand, but uninspiring), to simply secularizing (they'd rather die), to the ever-present, never-spoken-outside-closed-doors idea of crowning a new Sorcerer-King. Disturbingly, most of the templars are morally okay with that approach, but they're politically savvy enough not to take it public. They were actually excited about the prospect of Sadira or Abdul, either of whom could be convinced to take the divine mantle in time.

As for that divinity, there is a specific requirement: traditionally, the Dragon Metamorphosis has been the definition of a true Sorcerer-King. You can be a powerful mage, and you can be a king, or even both, but that doesn't make you a Sorcerer-King. The Dragon Metamorphosis is a specific ritual that transforms the subject into a dragon, granting them immense power and longevity, but also marking them as a divine being. While the spell isn't instantaneous--most Sorcerer-Kings have been slowly advancing through the phases for centuries or even millennia--taking the first concrete step is enough to mark one as divine. Abdul is among a short list of sorcerers who are thought to be potentially powerful enough to attempt the ritual and live.

But there is another emerging option. Once thought to be a fringe cult of lunatics, the Solarians have been gaining popularity and influence in the years since the revolution. Worship of the sun, that ever-present torturer responsible for the harshness of life on Athas, is not exactly a popular pastime, but the Solarians have found a way to make it appealing: they've proven its power. Sadira's own solar power has not been matched by any other Solarian, but there are plenty of other examples of Solarians who have demonstrated impressive feats of power, and most importantly, their powers grow quickly, and are not dependent on defiling nature. There is growing momentum behind the idea a Solarian--particularly Sadira--could reach divinity through this new path. Templars are skeptical of this idea, which flies in the face of thousands of years of tradition, but they can't deny the power of the Solarians, and they also can't deny that the Dragon Metamorphosis is a pretty high bar to clear. As they argue to find an empirical definition of "divine", they know they're racing against time. Tithian is no Sorcerer-King, and has not only lost a war to a true one, but he nearly lost a war to swordless politicians. Such weakness ends only one way.

Much rides on the templars' next move. In their current state, they have a serious recruiting problem: there haven't been any new Paladins promoted for years, since only with the blessing of the Sorcerer-King can a templar be promoted to Paladin. It took quite a bit of political maneuvering to get any recruitment going at all, since new recruits are supposed to swear loyalty to the Sorcerer-King before gaining their powers and privileges. The sloppy compromise is that they still make the same vow, but to "The Sorcerer-King of Tyr", which is of course a vacant position. But as the ranks of Paladins dwindle, the Templars are short on leaders, and Elders, by definition, aren't exactly battle-ready. The city is flourishing, and its population exploding; the Templars need new Paladins, and plenty of them.

On the other side, there's a crisis awaiting as soon as they do find a way to resolve this. They didn't lay down their ancient powers without a fight. For many centuries, templars have been ordained judge, jury, and executioner, wielding legal power to execute justice in the field: no trial, no warrants, no lawyers. In this new Tyr, they have very few privileges over and above a common police officer. But they did not technically lay down these powers. Instead, they found another temporary solution in the form of clever wording. Those powers have always existed as extensions of the Sorcerer-King's authority, so they declared that, while there is no sitting Sorcerer-King, they will not use those powers. This has prevented them from executing criminals in the street, but also means they reserve the right to start doing so the instant there is a new Sorcerer-King. And knowing them, they will not hesitate to do so, even if the criminals they execute happen to be Senators, Advisors, revolutionaries, or the civic police force.

The idea of this ancient order changing fundamentally is a non-starter. Not only are their traditions many centuries old, but among their highest values are adherence to tradition itself. All of their powers, privileges, and practices are considered religious dogma, not standing orders. It would be heresy to change them in any meaningful way.

So what is to become of the templars? Short of a very bloody, questionably moral, and quite possibly doomed attempt to exterminate them, what hope does Tyr have?

Brilliant minds have found an answer. The templars needs what every good organized religion has: a tier of leadership that acts as a proxy between the divine and the rank-and-file clergy. While they've always had a sort of "College of Cardinals" in the form of the Elder Council, there has never been a single Primate of any given templar chapter, let alone the whole order. This idea has been seen as a direct affront to the living, physically present Sorcerer-King who has always filled that role naturally. But in Tyr, no such Sorcerer-King exists.

The idea is to create a new rank of "Primate", who would be elected by the Elder Council, and would serve as the de facto leader of the order, and the closest thing to a Sorcerer-King they could have in the meantime. Of course, merely electing a leader doesn't give them divine power, and the Primate can hardly stand in for the Sorcerer-King to give a new Paladin their divine grace. So what's the point? Why bother at all, when the Templars of Tyr are clearly doomed if they don't install a proper Sorcerer-King post-haste?

Simple: the Elders have secured something precious, something invaluable, something they would have had the means, motive, and opportunity to precure. Kalak died amidst his transformation; he did not burn to ash, he did not dissolve into dust. He left remains: a twisted form, not quite dead, not quite alive, frozen amidst a painful and doomed transformation. The Elders have been able to preserve him in stasis, but healing him is far beyond their capabilities. However, it remains possible to use his holy body as a font of divine power, and what purpose could be greater for that power than the continued functioning of his very arm and hand, his templars?

The Primate must be able to sell the people on a cult of Kalak, requiring charisma not often found amongst Knights and Paladins. They need the people to believe in the apotheosis of Kalak--a tough sell even for a former Sorcerer-King in a world where all gods are dead. If Kalak has ascended to a higher plane, then he is everywhere, and they can continue serving in his name, rendering the mundane throne to some mundane king who they begrudgingly accept. If they can work divine magic, they prove their god is real, and that they are his chosen servants. If they can heal the sick and wounded, they prove their god is benevolent, and that they are his faithful servants. If they can smite their enemies with divine wrath, they prove their god is just, and that they are his righteous servants. With the right Primate, they can keep the order alive, and keep the city safe, until a new Sorcerer-King can be crowned.