Blood and Roses - The Heartland

The heartlands are, as the name very cleverly implies, the beating heart of the Fourth Empire. It is a large province, taking up most of the southern continental lowlands. It is primarily comprised of fertile plains, softly rolling hills, idyllic lakes, and quaint copses of deciduous trees. It is a land of hearty people who love the sun, work hard in the sprawling fields of barley and wheat; oats and corn, along with berries and veggies of all kinds. Pastures are peacefully grazed by livestock. The towns are unwalled and open, children play freely, running through the streets and through the fields. It's a lovely place to visit, if not a little too warm for some in the summer.

Dominating the land's horizon is the Royal Mount, a dormant shield volcano looming over the hills like a hazy tower. The mountain is situated near the southern center, maybe forty miles from the pearlescent sands of the southern shores of the continent, and the seafront villages that dot them.

Bushels are full. Nets are fit to burst. Tables are laden with food roasted over open communal fires to perfection. The Heartland never wants for anything. A land of peace and fertility and plenty. Prosperity.

It is also the home of the most powerful empire the earth has ever seen. The Fourth's reach is long, and the arms are fed and clothed here, in the Heartland. The hills surrounding the southern shores of the great lake are home to quarries and mines that extract this land's glorious bounty in huge quantities, transporting it along well maintained highways to the great centers of industry.

One such center is Hammerheart, one of the largest cities in the whole empire. It is situated on the shores of the great lake, it processes vast quantities of iron into steel, and the Imperial Mint is situated in the city, from whence all official coinage derives. It is here, in this bastion of order, that the fresh ingots are transported elsewhere, or sent directly to the forges to be processed further. The swords of Hammerheart are sturdy, balanced, and they bite with the finest edge.

The skill of the Heartland's craftfolks extend to building. There are splendid churches of bright stone, intricately engraved with protective charms and odes to the Most Blessed Rose Goddess Herself. With reliefs of the Saints, and her Holiness, and all the symbols of a faith held close to the heart. Priests and Priestesses that reside within give wisdom and learnings from the Books of the Rose, which recount the Glorious Goddess's Word and her incredible feats, and guide local folk healers on proper policy.

The Heartland is always safe, any outside danger stopped in its tracks by the dutiful men and women of the Imperial Army, garrisoned in every town, they oversee lawful society and only step in when they are needed. The shining soldiers are the pride of the province, and parades are plentiful with the bravest of the citizens in stringent marching formation.

All roads in the Empire pulse like veins, inevitably leading all who venture up on them to one singular place. The center of power on the continent. The shining jewel in His Imperial Highness's crown, the Capital. Hugging the skirts of the Royal Mountain, the Capital is the center of culture on Earth. Within it's massive outer walls is a sprawling metropolis that zigs and zags its way up the mountain. Districts are orderly and clean, bell towers ring out on the hour in every quarter, criers share their news in squares where businessfolk ply their trades.

The women wash and clean the homes. The men ply their trades. The children are busy with work or play. The high priests in the upper reaches ponder and study. Fountains babble, irrigation runs, the sewers ferry away filth to the rivers. And the great cathedral stands proud over the city proper, domed with great spires and massive stained glass reliefs of holy scripture.

Ascend the mountain, to the estates of the great minds and nobles of the Empire, and beyond, high above all else. The innermost walls stand guard over the great rim of the volcano itself. In the center of the crater is a vast island of stone, upon which stands the sparkling Palace Complex. Within the crater lies the secretive crafting guilds that work directly for the Imperial Government, the only foundries on the Earth that still know the secrets of forging Black Iron.

The palace is one part garden, one part administrative center. Here lies the brains of the Empire, and all missives originate here. At the pinnacle of the world. It is here the Cardinals meet, it is here the Branches of the Government work for the betterment of all, it is here that the Inquisition resides, surveying the vast empire to root out heresy.

Here too is the Hunter's Guild, the most venerated of the associated Guilds. They stave off the darkness the Imperial Army cannot. Blessed be they who walk the path of the Hunter, staying the dark, keeping the Heartland and beyond safe from the dark magics that threaten peace and prosperity.

And of course, the palace proper. The home of the Emperor. He who is chosen by the Goddess to lead the good people to greater and loftier heights. None may enter without express permission, but it is a lovely thing to see. Older than the rest of the palace by a margin, the faded stone has a regal touch to it.

The Heartland is the beating heart of the empire, all good things ultimately derive from it, and the people who lead it. From food to fish to metalworks to administration to safety; the Heartland truly has it all.

-excerpt from Chapter three of "The Many Places of the Fourth Empire, Fourth Edition" by Barnabus Fletcher of Kant Marie.