hellshipper - Tumblr blog

hellshipper · 3 months ago

Text

Worldbuilding Hybern

Geography and Climate

Hybern lies on a large island west of Prythian, across a storm-tossed and “violent western sea.�� Its geography is remarkably varied – rugged mountains and windswept moors dominate the interior, while the coasts are marked by towering bone-white cliffs that rise high above crashing grey waves. Near the northeastern shore where the King’s castle stands, flat grassy clifftops give way to sloping, barren hills inland. The land carries an eerie emptiness; Feyre described an “overwhelming sense of nothingness” in Hybern, as no animal life stirs in its wilderness. Indeed, aside from the immortal faeries themselves, one would find little in the way of birdsong or beast – it is as if the natural world recoiled from Hybern’s centuries of dark magic and bloodshed.

The climate is cool and damp. Gale-force storms blow in from the sea year-round, lashing the island with salt spray and rain. Thick fog often clings to the cliffs and hollows at dawn. Summers are brief and mild, bringing gusty winds and drizzling rains that keep the hills a pale green. Winters are long, bleak, and windy, though snow rarely falls except on the highest peaks. In the interior, patches of hardy thornbrush and dark ivy cling to life, but much of Hybern’s terrain is treeless moor and rock. Some whisper that the soil is tainted by the island’s violent history – that nothing but coarse grass and poisonous thistle will grow where so much blood has soaked the earth. Beneath those desolate hills run rich veins of a rare mineral called faebane, a magic-dampening substance that Hybern has learned to exploit. These faebane deposits are as much a part of Hybern’s landscape as its cliffs and crags, and the toxic ore’s presence further contributes to the uncanny stillness (few living creatures can long thrive in a land laced with faebane’s nullifying power).

Despite its dreary aspects, Hybern can possess a stark, haunting beauty. On rare clear days, the western sun breaks through the clouds and paints the sea in bands of silver and gold. Misty green highlands roll across the horizon, and ancient standing stones crown a few hilltops – silent witnesses to ages of faerie presence. But even this beauty is somber and wild. The very air carries a chill of foreboding. Hybern’s people have a saying that “the land remembers.” Every bitter winter wind, every empty moor and black crag, serves as a reminder of glories lost and a harsh future promised – a reflection of the kingdom’s own hardened heart.

Culture and Society

Hybern’s culture has been forged in isolation, resentment, and unyielding pride. For five centuries since the War, the kingdom stewed in its hatred, cut off from allies and denied the slaves that once sustained its luxuries. As a result, its society values strength, loyalty, and ruthlessness above all. Mercy and compassion are viewed as weaknesses; cruelty is not only normalized but celebrated. Many High Fae of Hybern even exhibit physical markers of this ingrained brutality – eyes that are pitch-black, appearing “soulless and cold from centuries of indulging in cruelty,” even among nameless courtiers at the King’s own castle. In Hybern, to be cruel is to survive.

Values and Traditions

From a young age, Hybern’s citizens are taught an ethnocentric creed: Hybernian supremacy. They believe their kingdom represents the true, pure might of the faerie race, unfairly diminished by the Treaty with the mortal realm. Humans are slandered as vermin or cattle, fit only for servitude, and the very idea of treating mortals as equals is anathema. This extreme viewpoint was only hardened by the War’s outcome – rather than accept defeat, Hybern chose to slaughter every human within its borders rather than free a single slave. That bloody choice is held up as proof of Hybern’s resolve and used to instill pride (and fear) in each new generation. Never bow, never yield – better to destroy what you possess than let it fall into enemy hands. This is the Hybernian way.

The kingdom’s long isolation has bred a culture of bitter nostalgia. The centuries before the War, when Hybern was wealthy and humans were in chains, are remembered as a golden age. Bards at court sing grim songs of those “better days,” and storytellers recount the deeds of ancient Hybern warlords. One popular tale is the Tragedy of Princess Clythia, a cautionary legend about the dangers of human treachery: Clythia (sister to Amarantha) was seduced by a mortal general and fed him information, only to be brutally betrayed and murdered – “crucified with ash wood and cut to pieces” by the human she loved. Her shattered body was left for her sister to find, and Hybern’s people say that in that moment, any illusion of human innocence died forever. Parents invoke Clythia’s story to frighten younglings: “Show kindness to a human and you’ll end up like her.” Thus, hatred is passed down like an heirloom.

Ritual and tradition in Hybern tend to glorify conquest and endurance. There are holidays commemorating wartime events – though these “celebrations” are solemn, vengeful affairs. For instance, on the anniversary of the Treaty’s signing (an agreement Hybern considers a day of humiliation), the kingdom observes a Day of Oaths. On that day, Hybern’s citizens dress in black and bone-white and gather in town squares to burn effigies of the Treaty. Nobles renew their blood-oaths to the King, swearing that their children’s children will remember the injustices until the mortal Wall is shattered. Rather than mourning defeat, Hybern turns the occasion into a collective vow of revenge. Conversely, they hold a Victory Rally each year on the date of a famous early battle where Hybern forces had triumphed over human armies. During this rally, war horns echo from the castle ramparts at dawn, and the names of Hybern’s honored dead are recited before the assembled crowd. There are no joyous feasts – only a fierce, grim pride as the people shout ancient war-cries and toast with bitter faerie wine to “the next victory, may it come soon.”

Blood sport and trials of strength are common traditions as well. In the capital, the court sometimes amuses itself with ritual duels or contests. Young nobles prove their mettle in knife fights or dangerous hunts. (It’s said that in older times, they hunted live humans for sport, but with no humans left in Hybern, the nobles now must settle for hunting each other in carefully staged war games.) Coming-of-age rites often involve tests of cruelty: a Hybernian youth might be tasked to execute a captured enemy spy or to withstand torture without screaming, as a way to demonstrate loyalty and hardness. Success is rewarded with recognition at court; failure brings shame (and sometimes fatal consequences, if the King deems the youth too weak to serve him). Even Hybern’s humor is cruel – jests and pranks tend to be barbed, sometimes literally. A “jest” among young courtiers might involve slipping a mild poison into a rival’s goblet to watch them squirm, or releasing scuttling faerie spiders into someone’s bed. Laughter in Hybern often has an edge of malice.

Yet amidst this brutality, Hybern’s people do value loyalty and honor – in their own warped sense. Loyalty is expected first to the Crown, second to one’s family, and never to outsiders. Oath-breaking is one of the few crimes universally despised; if a Hybernian swears an oath (especially a blood-oath or magical bond), they will go to extraordinary lengths to keep it, or else face severe punishment and social ostracism. There is also a stern code of honor in warfare: not honor toward enemies, but toward one’s comrades and superiors. Cowardice in battle is the ultimate disgrace. A soldier who flees or surrenders is likely to be executed by his own commander before the enemy can even touch him. By contrast, acts of extreme bravery or vicious effectiveness are celebrated. Warriors proudly recount how many enemy heads they took in a skirmish or how they torched a village in the last war. This grisly boasting is socially encouraged – it’s not seen as ghastly, but rather as each warrior’s duty to add to Hybern’s legend.

Hybern’s social etiquette reflects its values. Courtesy exists, but it is a cold, formal thing. Bow too low or use overly flowery flattery, and you’ll be mocked for sycophancy; show the proper respect due to rank, but no more. In Hybern’s court, fear and respect are intertwined. For example, it is customary for lesser fae to bare their necks when a High Fae lord passes – ostensibly a gesture of deference, but in truth a holdover from the days when a dissatisfied lord might physically grab and punish a servant. Similarly, at royal audiences, courtiers kneel on both knees (not just one) and keep their eyes lowered until spoken to. This tradition began as a way to remind everyone that the King could snap their neck if he pleased. Over time it has simply become protocol. Through countless such practices, Hybern’s culture continuously reinforces a singular message: strength and obedience are life, weakness and mercy are death.

Social Hierarchy

Hybern’s social structure is strictly hierarchical and authoritarian. At the pinnacle stands the King – an absolute monarch wielding all political, military, and magical power. Unlike Prythian, which is divided among multiple High Lords, Hybern entrusts everything to one throne. The current King (an ancient, malevolent High Fae whose name is rarely spoken aloud) rules unchallenged, supported by a small inner circle. Directly beneath him are a handful of high-ranking nobles and military commanders who form his Inner Court. Historically, this included figures like Amarantha (once his chief general) as well as the King’s own kin, such as Prince Dagdan and Princess Brannagh. These individuals serve as the King’s lieutenants, enforcers, and advisors. They carry out his will across the island, command segments of his army, and oversee the enforcement of his laws.

Below the royal inner circle are the rest of Hybern’s noble houses. Several powerful High Fae families hold titles equivalent to lords or governors, each controlling a region or vital function of the kingdom. These nobles maintain private estates or fortresses on the island and have their own retinues of soldiers and lesser faeries. In theory, they owe total fealty to the King, and most are indeed fiercely loyal (both out of genuine belief in Hybern’s cause and fear of royal wrath). In practice, noble houses compete constantly for the King’s favor. There is endless jockeying to be named as one of his Commanders or to have one’s son/daughter marry into the royal line. The King encourages this competitive fealty – it keeps the nobles focused on currying his favor rather than plotting rebellion. A lord who brings him a valuable prize (like a rare magical artifact or intelligence on enemies) might be rewarded with command of a larger legion or a grant of coveted land. Conversely, failure or dissent can mean immediate and brutal demotion. The nobility of Hybern thus walk a knife’s edge, ever fearful and ever ambitious.

Hybern’s common folk occupy the lower rungs of the hierarchy. Common High Fae – those of modest magic or lineage – may serve as officers in the army, administrators in the sparse bureaucracy, or skilled artisans. Many of them reside in the shadow of noble houses, effectively acting as middle management in the feudal structure. Lesser Fae (faeries of weaker power or more bestial appearance) form the bottom tier. In the absence of human slaves, lesser faeries now perform much of the menial labor in Hybern. They work the scant farms, tend to workshops, and scrub the castle’s stone floors. Their status is only marginally above what the human slaves’ once was – they are often treated with disdain or open cruelty by their High Fae overlords. It is not uncommon for a High Fae noble to punish a disobedient lesser faerie servant by torture or mutilation, and there is little legal repercussion for such acts. The King’s law primarily protects property and obedience, not the wellbeing of the low-born. As long as the lesser fae fulfill their duties and keep their eyes down, they are allowed to live. If not, the dungeons of Hybern’s castle or the execution block await.

Social mobility in Hybern is extremely limited. Birth largely seals one’s fate. A lesser faerie cannot rise to nobility except in the rarest of circumstances (perhaps if they performed an act that saved the King’s life, and he saw fit to reward them – but even then, a title granted to someone of low birth would scandalize traditionalists). A common High Fae might, through great valor or usefulness, be elevated to a minor noble role – for example, being knighted or given command of a small unit and a land grant. But such cases are the exception, not the rule. For most, the hierarchy is rigid. Everyone knows their place in the grand design of hatred and war. The nobles command, the commoners toil, the lesser faeries obey, and all kneel to the Crown.

That said, Hybern’s long-term isolation and decline did foster a sense of shared hardship in some communities. Among the lower classes, there is a grudging solidarity born of suffering. Villagers forced to fend for themselves when trade ceased learned to rely on each other. Within those humble circles, traits like generosity (sharing food during lean times) and cooperation still quietly persist – though such values are kept private, lest a snooping lord see it as softness. In public, even peasants parrot the kingdom’s hard ideals, but in private, some semblance of basic decency flickers. It is a subtle undercurrent in society: the common folk endure the edicts of their betters, biding time and doing what they must to survive, even as the nobility broadcast cruelty from on high. In Hybern, fear flows downward and silent resilience upward.

Gender Roles

Unlike some human societies, Hybern’s harsh culture is relatively egalitarian in its brutality. Both male and female High Fae are expected to be formidable and merciless. The kingdom does not bar women from power – in fact, one of Hybern’s greatest military leaders was Amarantha, a female general who became the scourge of mortal armies. Competence and cruelty are valued far more than gender. That said, traditional gender expectations do exist in certain contexts. Within noble families, male heirs typically inherit leadership of the house, and there is an old-fashioned expectation that females in a noble line will marry to forge alliances. Many high-born women are trained in courtly arts (music, dance, manipulation) in addition to combat, with the understanding that they might serve as spymistresses or diplomats – weapons in silk rather than steel. A daughter who proves herself vicious and cunning, however, can break out of those confines. Amarantha and her sister Clythia, for example, were raised to be warriors and commanders, not genteel ladies, because their family recognized their potential and the King had need of every capable general. In Hybern, powerful women are respected (and feared) nearly as much as powerful men.

In day-to-day life, gender roles among commoners are pragmatic. With no human slaves and limited resources, everyone – male or female – must work and fight as needed. Fae women in villages plow fields, haul nets of fish from the stormy seas, and will pick up a bow or sword if raiders attack. Chivalry in the human sense is absent; a woman is not shielded from hardship just because of her sex. Some female lesser fae even serve in the military units, especially in archery or aerial roles, and they are expected to prove their mettle just as the males do. There is, however, an ingrained patriarchal streak at the very top of Hybern’s power structure. The fact that the throne has always been held by a King (and not a Queen) is often pointed to as justification that males should lead. The King’s inner circle, while including women, is ultimately dominated by his own authority and that of his male relations (e.g. Prince Dagdan). Many noble houses still prefer a son to inherit command of their forces, viewing sons as less likely to show “sentimentality.” Thus, a high-born woman in Hybern often has to be twice as ruthless to earn the same fear a man might command by default. Amarantha’s rise is sometimes regarded (in envious whispers by male courtiers) as an aberration permitted only because of her extraordinary brutality and the King’s particular favor.

Despite these undercurrents, Hybernese culture does grant women a unique sphere of power in the realm of intrigue and sorcery. It is often assumed that a mother will be the one to indoctrinate her children with Hybern’s values in the home, so women bear the burden of raising each new generation to be hard-hearted patriots. Noblewomen, in particular, are the keepers of a family’s social alliances – arranging marriages, correspondence, and information networks between houses. Many a poisonous rumor or subtle threat in Hybern originates from the lips of a lady over tea, rather than the bellow of a lord in the council hall. Women who excel in manipulation or stealth thrive in these shadows. Men might dominate through overt force and title, while women often dominate through subtlety and fear veiled behind courtly smiles.

Gender dynamics in Hybern therefore come down to capability. A docile, gentle woman is scorned just as a gentle man is – not because she’s a woman, but because gentleness itself is reviled. Conversely, a fierce woman can attain heights of influence, as can a cunning, politically savvy man of lower military rank. Both sexes are expected to contribute to Hybern’s war machine: men typically as front-line soldiers or brutish enforcers, women often as sorceresses, healers with twisted morals, or crafty schemers – though there are plenty of female warriors and male schemers too. For example, Hybern’s court has battle-healers (some female) who mend wounded soldiers only to send them back to fight anew, and poisoners (some male) who craft toxins for use by assassins. Each role is valued if it serves conquest. One notable custom is that widows of fallen generals in Hybern often take up their husbands’ command until the Crown appoints a new general – a practice dating back to ancient times when a warlord’s wife would rally his soldiers if he fell. These widows are expected to be as pitiless as their late spouses, and many succeed. In short, Hybern recognizes no gentleness in either gender; all are tools for the King’s ends. Only in the privacy of their households might a rare soft-hearted woman or man (such as someone like Myrsina) dare to deviate from the cruel expectations – and even then, they must hide it well.

Religion, Mythology, and Ancient Beliefs

Hybern is a kingdom outwardly obsessed with temporal power, but it still harbors its share of dark faith and superstition. Unlike some human realms, Hybern has no single organized religion or benevolent pantheon – its “gods” are the twin forces of Conquest and Vengeance. Many Hybernian High Fae claim to put their faith only in themselves and their King, yet in secret even the cruel have things they fear or worship. Over the long isolation, a sort of folk religion developed that blends reverence for ancient faerie entities with the kingdom’s militant ethos.

At the center of Hybern’s mythos is the Cauldron, a primordial magic artifact believed to have shaped creation itself. The Cauldron is not just a tool in Hybern – it is quasi-divine. The King of Hybern keeps the actual Cauldron secured in the depths of his castle (in a dark dungeon room, set atop a dais like an altar), and for many Hybern loyalists it is a holy relic. Priests (few in number, but influential) whisper that the Cauldron chose Hybern as its guardian. They hold that when the Cauldron yielded its power to the King during the recent campaigns – for example, to resurrect the dead or forge new High Fae – it was a sign of divine favor. It’s said that before battle, Hybern’s commanders will pour blood or wine into a ceremonial iron pot, invoking the Cauldron’s name and asking for victory. This practice is half ritual, half superstition, but it’s widespread among the army. To “thank the Cauldron” is a common refrain in Hybern after any triumph, big or small. Many warriors even wear tiny cauldron-shaped pendants under their armor for luck.

Aside from the Cauldron, Hybern’s old beliefs include a handful of pagan gods and spirits. These are not kind deities; they mirror Hybern’s values. One such figure is Dôrhga, often called the Blood Mother – a war-goddess that Hybern’s soldiers honor. In myth, Dôrhga is said to have emerged from a pool of blood at the dawn of the world, granting the first king of Hybern a crown and unholy strength. Statues of a female figure wielding a curved blade (interpreted as Dôrhga) stand in a few ancient courtyards and shrines. The Blood Mother’s holy day is the winter solstice, when nights are longest. On that night, Hybern’s nobles gather in the castle’s great hall for a grim ceremony: they spill a few drops of their own blood into a great bronze bowl and then paint sigils on their foreheads with it, beseeching Dôrhga to harden their hearts and sharpen their blades for the year ahead. It’s an unsettling sight – dozens of High Fae with blood-marked brows chanting old war hymns in the firelight – but it is one of Hybern’s oldest rituals, predating even the War. Common folk typically aren’t invited to this noble ceremony, but some villages hold simpler observances on solstice, like slaughtering a black ram and burning its entrails while calling on the Blood Mother to protect their homes.

Another entity often spoken of in Hybern lore is The Weeping Knight, a ghostly figure said to roam the cliffs on stormy nights. Legend claims he was a Hybern warrior prince who died in the War after betraying an oath, and the gods cursed him to wander eternally, weeping tears that turn to salt. Although not a god, the Weeping Knight is a supernatural cautionary tale – parents warn oath-breakers that the Weeping Knight will find them and drag them to the chilly sea. Some even say if you stand atop the cliffs at midnight when lightning flashes, you can see him: a tall armored shade with eyes running like water. Hybern’s sailors customarily leave an offering for this spirit before a voyage, tossing a jug of wine or a handful of faerie bread into the surf, in hopes the restless ghost will spare their ship from wreck.

Hybern’s mythology also includes twisted versions of the Great Mother revered elsewhere. In Prythian and other lands, the Mother is a benevolent creator deity. In Hybern, that concept has split: the kinder aspects of deity have long been abandoned, leaving only The Crone – an ancient female figure representing fate and vengeance. The Crone is envisioned as a withered faerie woman stirring a cauldron, deciding who lives and who dies. (Some scholars note this is clearly an interpretation of the actual Cauldron’s power, personified.) Hybernian witches and seers, such as they are, claim the Crone whispers omens to them. It’s said that the King himself consults a secret coven of oracles “who speak for the Crone” when he must make the most fateful decisions. Whether this is true or mere rumor, the idea of a dark feminine fate-goddess suits Hybern’s outlook – fate is seen as cruel but just, giving triumph to the strong. A common expression when something unfortunate happens in Hybern is: “The Crone stirs her pot,” meaning fate is simply taking its due and one must endure it.

Rituals in Hybern are invariably on the darker side. Blood, bones, and oaths play a role in nearly every ceremony. There are sacrifical rites performed at the few ancient temples scattered in remote parts of the island. In one marshy region stands a ring of megaithic stones called the Gallows Circle, rumored to be an altar to an old god of death. During times of extreme crisis – famine or plague – local faeries have been known to offer a life there (animal if available, or occasionally a volunteered lesser fae) to appease whatever dark power might be listening. These practices aren’t officially sanctioned by the Crown, but neither are they forbidden – the King largely ignores religion unless he can harness it. In fact, the King has appropriated religious symbolism for political ends. When he rallies his lords for war, he often invokes “the sacred right of Hybern to rule” and calls their cause “hallowed by the Cauldron’s will.” He styles himself not only as king but almost as a high priest of vengeance, presiding over war-rituals like an ordained celebrant. This blending of state and superstition means that even those who might not be devout find themselves participating in ritualistic displays of allegiance (like swearing by the Cauldron, or cutting their palms and letting their blood fill a goblet that the King then drinks from to symbolize their shared cause – a gruesome rite practiced at some war councils).

Interestingly, due to the lack of joyful religion, superstition fills the void for common folk. Simple charms and household practices are widespread. A bowl of salt at the threshold of a home is said to ward off malevolent spirits (or perhaps the Weeping Knight). Newborn faeries in some towns have their foreheads smeared with ash in a quick baptism of hardship, as if to say “you are born to a hard world; may you be strong.” In Hybern, even a baptism is about strength, not purity. If a child cries excessively, elders mutter that a spriggan (mischievous fae spirit) might be pinching them – and to fix it, they’ll hang an iron knife over the cradle to scare the spirit off. Such folk beliefs sit oddly alongside Hybern’s official stance of might and reason, but they persist in the shadows of daily life. After all, when living under a regime of fear, people often cling to any small rituals that give them a sense of control, even if it’s just leaving an offering of bread and milk at the crossroads for wandering ghosts.

Ultimately, Hybern’s religion is less about worship and more about justification. Every god or mythic story emphasizes that Hybern’s cruelty and ambition are part of a grand cosmic order. The old gods are violent, thus Hybern is right to be violent. The spirits punish the weak, thus Hybern must not be weak. It is a theology of brutality. There are no loving gods watching over Hybern – only ones that demand strength or sacrifice. In this way, the Hybernian people reconcile their conscience (if any remains) with their deeds. When a Hybern general orders a massacre, he might say a prayer to the Blood Mother, believing he is doing holy work. When a lord oppresses his peasant subjects, he may invoke the Crone, claiming fate decrees the strong dominate the weak. Myth and reality bleed together: Hybern sees itself as both executing and embodying the will of unforgiving deities. In a sense, the King has made himself the living god of Hybern – the avatar of their cruel fate – and most of his subjects accept this. They whisper their prayers to the Cauldron or the old gods at night, but by day, they obey the King as the highest power.

Architecture and Infrastructure

Hybern’s architecture is as stark and intimidating as its landscape. There is nothing gentle or whimsical about the kingdom’s structures – they are built to impose and endure, not to delight the eye. The centerpiece is undoubtedly the King of Hybern’s Castle, an ancient fortress fused into the cliffs on the northeastern coast. From afar, the castle looks like a jagged extension of the very land: perhaps a dozen slender spires claw upward, black against perpetual clouds. The lower portions of the stronghold are carved directly into the pale cliffside, so that sheer rock walls form part of its exterior. Time has weathered the fortress; its stones are crumbling and pitted, an off-white color like old bone rather than the gleaming marble of Prythian’s palaces. The effect is a castle that resembles a giant skull on the coast, crowned with towers as sharp as horns. Waves batter its foundations far below, where a small sea-door is hidden at water level for ships or secret exits. Above, the main gates are accessible only by a narrow, steep road that winds up the cliffs – easily defensible and utterly perilous for any invader.

The castle’s interior is famously austere. Visitors from other courts have remarked that it feels less like a home and more like an enormous crypt. There is no finery, no warmth. The halls are bare stone, stripped of tapestries or paintings. Columns and arches of bone-white rock frame the corridors, giving the impression one walks through the ribcage of some long-dead beast. In many chambers, not even furniture can be found – the King seems to prefer emptiness. The grand throne room has only a single raised dais of dark green stone at its far end. Upon that dais sits Hybern’s throne, a grotesque marvel: it is crafted entirely from human bones, fused and polished by magic and time until they are brown and smooth like old ivory. Skulls and femurs intertwine to form the high back and armrests. When the King holds court on that throne, sunlight (when there is any) slants through narrow windows to illuminate the throne’s grisly details – a deliberate choice to remind every courtier of the cost of defying Hybern. Feyre noted that the throne room had “no furniture or decoration other than a throne made from human bones.” Indeed, this throne is the chilling focal point. Courtiers stand rather than sit in the King’s presence, arrayed on the bare floor before him. It is said that if one’s knees ache from kneeling on stone during long court sessions, that is simply a lesson in endurance.

Throughout the castle, the architectural style is massive and defensive. Ceilings are high but not elegant; they are built to accommodate large winged faeries (like the King’s Attor-creatures) and to make intruders feel small. There are murder-holes and arrow slits integrated even into indoor spaces, so defenders could fire on anyone who breached an inner hall. Heavy iron chandeliers hang from rafters, though often unlit, leaving many corridors in shadow. The castle includes extensive dungeons beneath its foundations – a labyrinth of lightless cells and torture chambers with iron shackles bolted to walls. The stones down there are dark, stained by untold years of blood and rust. It is whispered that spells of binding are woven into the very mortar; prisoners with magic find themselves markedly weakened as soon as they’re thrown behind those bars. In a sealed chamber in the lowest level, the Cauldron is kept on its pedestal – that room is said to be warded so heavily that not even sound escapes when the Cauldron hums with power. The castle is also protected by countless wards and spells. During an attempted infiltration by enemy High Fae, the King activated enchantments that prevented teleportation (winnowing) and even cut off psychic bonds, turning the castle into an arcane trap. These magical defenses are part of the infrastructure, renewed by Hybern’s spellcasters each full moon.

Beyond the castle, Hybern’s architecture in general tends toward the practical and militaristic. There is no true capital city as one might find in other kingdoms – the castle complex itself, with a small attached port and a scatter of surrounding barracks and storerooms, functions as the administrative center. A modest town of grey-stone buildings clusters near the base of the cliffs by the sea, housing the servants, blacksmiths, and laborers who support the castle. This town has a few winding lanes (muddy more often than not) and a marketplace that springs up irregularly when goods come in by ship. Buildings there are simple: two-story homes of stone with slate roofs, tightly shuttered windows, and little in the way of adornment. Even the tavern has heavy iron bars on its door, a reflection of the ever-present caution in Hybern’s life. What one will see plenty of are fortifications. Watchtowers ring the coastline at strategic intervals – squat round towers of dark granite, manned by sentries day and night, each equipped with a horn or mirror system to signal the castle in case of approach by foreign ships. Inland, where old mountain passes could allow entry from the sea on the far side of the island, there are ruined forts from centuries past, some rebuilt as training garrisons. Walls are another common feature: the larger villages often have rough stone walls or spiked wooden palisades encircling them, erected during the War and maintained out of habit. The very roads themselves are remnants of war logistics – straight, broad paths (now cracked by weeds) that once allowed Hybern’s legions to march swiftly from one shore to another.

Austerity defines Hybern’s aesthetic. Beauty is a luxury the kingdom largely abandoned after the War. Functional design prevails in everything from architecture to civic planning. For example, a noble manor in Hybern might look more like a small fortress than a manor: high walls, narrow windows, a courtyard that doubles as a mustering ground for soldiers. Gardens are virtually unheard of, except perhaps small herb patches for practical use (poison plants, medicinal herbs, etc.). Instead of fountains or statues in public squares, one might find a stark memorial obelisk engraved with the names of fallen Hybern warriors, or a platform for delivering speeches (or executions). The influence of centuries of scarcity can be seen – when Hybern cut off trade, fine materials became rare. So architecture shifted to use what was plentiful: local stone and iron. Any decorative touches were achieved by carving into stone. In a few older buildings, one can find weathered carvings of crests or symbols. The royal symbol, for instance, is thought to be a simple crown (as depicted on old maps), and this motif can be seen above the castle gate – a minimalist crown relief chiseled into the keystone. Noble houses too might have emblems carved above their doorways (a sword, a raven, a flame, etc.), but little else in the way of embellishment.

Despite this spareness, there is a grim grandeur to some Hybern structures. The enormous scale of the castle’s spires, the cyclopean stone causeways that connect cliffside barracks, and the haunting emptiness of its great hall all leave an impression of antiquity and power. One can sense that Hybern’s buildings were made to outlast: outlast storms, outlast sieges, outlast even memory. In fact, many of Hybern’s oldest structures predate the War and have simply been repurposed. An example is the Bridge of Woe, an ancient stone bridge spanning a chasm near the castle. It was once part of a grand processional route to a now-destroyed palace from long before the current King’s reign. That palace was razed in some forgotten conflict, and the current castle built more defensively by its ruins, but the bridge remained. Now it’s used as a training ground – young soldiers must run across its precarious length under a rain of blunt arrows to test their agility. Thus, Hybern repurposes its past constantly, turning former temples into armories or old courtyards into drilling squares. The result is that the whole kingdom feels like a relic turned war-camp. Travelers (not that Hybern gets many) sometimes remark that setting foot in Hybern is like stepping into a giant mausoleum that someone has tried to equip for battle.

Infrastructure in Hybern is minimal beyond military needs. Roads between major forts and ports are maintained to move troops and supplies, but smaller paths connecting villages might be left to rut and ruin. A few collapsed bridges from the bygone era are simply never repaired – unless they serve a strategic purpose. There is no grand network of waypoints or tunnels beyond what war requires. Harbors are similarly spartan. Hybern has one sizable harbor near the castle town, where warships dock (more on the navy later), and a couple of rough anchorages on other parts of the island for fishing vessels. These harbors have jetties of heavy timber and stone, but no bustling mercantile ports or lighthouses with welcoming beams – instead, bonfires are lit on shore to guide ships in, and those flames cast an otherworldly red glow on the dark water.

In essence, Hybern’s architecture and infrastructure serve as an outward manifestation of its soul. Cold, unadorned, unyielding – every wall is a shield, every tower a spear pointed at the sky. Comfort and art have been forsaken for security and intimidation. A traveler moving through Hybern would find it devoid of the gentle touches that make a place civilized. Instead, one finds a land of battlements and bones, where even the homes of its people resemble fortresses and its few public works stand as monuments to war. To walk under the bone-white arches of the King’s castle or through the iron-studded gate of a noble’s manor is to feel the oppressive weight of Hybern’s history bearing down – a reminder that here, peace is merely the pause between conflicts, and everything built in Hybern is built with the next battle in mind.

Fashion and Attire

Despite its lack of artistic architecture, Hybern does have a distinct sense of style in clothing – one that reflects the kingdom’s austere, martial culture while still indulging in a measure of dark elegance. Fashion in Hybern is another form of silent warfare, a way to project power, status, and intimidation without a single word. As such, the clothing of its people, especially the nobility, tends to be structured, somber-hued, and often decorated with subtle motifs of dominance or fear.

Example of a Hybern noblewoman’s formal attire – a structured corseted gown in muted gold and green, with sharp silhouettes and heavy brocade.

Among the High Fae nobility, attire is richly made but not frivolous. Gowns and suits alike favor structured silhouettes. Noblewomen often wear corseted bodices of stiff leather or whalebone, giving the impression of armor even in a dress. High collars, pointed shoulder accents, and fitted sleeves are common, lending an authoritative sharpness to the figure. Skirts are long and layered, made of heavy silks, brocades, and velvets in earth or jewel tones (deep forest green, wine-red, black, slate gray, and the occasional burnished gold for contrast). Rather than frilly lace and excessive gems, Hybern fashion uses texture and shape to stand out. For example, a lady’s gown might incorporate pleated skirts that resemble the fanned pages of an old book or the gills of a mushroom – beautiful in a severe way, as shown above. Embroidery, if present, often carries symbolic patterns: entwining thorns along a sleeve, stylized ravens or serpents hidden in the brocade, or abstract geometric designs that might represent the Cauldron or a crown. It’s not unusual for a Hybern noble’s outfit to include actual metal accents – small spikes or pauldrons on the shoulders, a girdle of interlocking steel links worn over a gown, or gauntlet-like bracers on the forearms. These serve both decorative and practical purposes (in a pinch, they can deflect a knife or be used as a weapon). The overall impression is that a Hybern noblewoman could stride from the ballroom to the battlefield with only a change of shoes.

Men’s attire similarly balances elegance with martial readiness. High Fae lords favor long tailored coats or greatcoats, often double-breasted and buttoned to the neck, with militaristic styling. Epaulets or braided cords are sometimes worn on the shoulders – a nod to their roles as commanders. Under the coat they might wear a waistcoat of patterned damask (again, subtle patterns like stags, swords, or the Hybern crown emblem woven in tone-on-tone). Trousers are usually dark and tucked into knee-high boots. Many male nobles also wear belts with prominent buckles or weapon holsters as part of their outfit, normalizing the presence of a dagger or sword at their hip even in formal settings. It’s an unwritten rule that one is never truly unarmed at Hybern’s court. The color palette for men skews dark as well – black, charcoal, deep navy – sometimes accented with a flash of color from a sash or a lining. For instance, a lord might have a cloak lined with blood-red silk that flares when he walks, reminiscent of spilled wine (or blood) swirling.

Jewelry and accessories in Hybern carry great symbolic weight and are often made from the relics of conquest. It is not uncommon to see nobles wearing ornaments fashioned from bone, teeth, or horns taken from defeated foes. Amarantha herself famously wore a jeweled ring that contained the petrified eye of Jurian, the human she vanquished and tortured– a grotesque token of victory she flaunted at all times. Following that example, other Hybern courtiers have adopted similar trophy-jewelry. One lady of the court wears a necklace strung with what she claims are carved knucklebones of a mortal queen. A general might fasten his cloak with a brooch made from an enemy lord’s finger bones set in iron. Such pieces are conversation starters and intimidation tools at once. More conventional jewelry does exist: rings, earrings, and circlets are worn, but usually in heavy, old-fashioned designs. Rather than delicate chains, Hybern jewelry leans to chunky collars, wide armbands, and signet rings the size of a small egg – statement pieces that convey authority. Precious stones are less favored than dark metals and enamel. A popular gemstone in Hybern is the black ruby (a deep crimson so dark it appears black in low light); nobles prize these for their similarity to congealed blood. These might be set in tiaras or rings but always in moderation – a Hybern lord might wear one signet with a black ruby crest and nothing else, letting that singular bloody gleam speak for itself.

There is a functional side to Hybern clothing as well. Armor and uniforms are a key part of fashion for those in the military. High-ranking individuals often blur the line between uniform and formal wear. It’s not unusual to see the King’s commanders and officers attending a war council in tailored military jackets adorned with their house colors or insignia. Hybern soldiers of all ranks wear a standard field uniform: ash-grey jackets with bone-white piping and the kingdom’s coat of arms (the silhouette of a small crown) on the shoulder. In more ceremonial contexts, such as a triumphal parade or a court appearance after a victory, these uniforms are cleaned and complemented with additional embellishments – silver aiguillettes, a cloak dyed Hybern’s signature storm-grey, and polished boots. Some officers also don ceremonial half-capes lined with white fur (one of the few uses of animal product, likely sourced via trade or rare magical beasts, since local fauna is scarce). These capes denote valorous service and help them stand out amid the sea of grey. Rank and status are encoded in every stitch: the number of buttons on a sleeve, the cut of one’s collar, the presence of a particular brooch – all carry meaning within the court’s unspoken sartorial language.

A bone-white ball gown with a dramatic silhouette, as might be worn by a Hybern queen or high lady during a ceremonial court gathering.

For high ceremonies and significant events, Hybernian fashion takes a turn for the symbolic and theatrical. One striking trend among the elite is the wearing of bone-white attire during momentous occasions. This trend harkens to Hybern’s imagery of bones and the pale cliffs of the kingdom. A queen (were Hybern to have one) or a leading lady at court might appear in a gown like the one shown above: flowing white fabric of heavy silk, with an exaggerated, sculptural collar and an immaculate, almost cold perfection. Such a gown deliberately echoes the bone motif – the off-shoulder wrap could resemble the curve of a collarbone or shoulder blades. Wearing pure white in Hybern carries a dual message: it invokes the bleached cliffs and bones (symbols of Hybern’s enduring, deathly might), and it dares anyone to spill blood upon the wearer, a challenge of sorts. In a court where deep colors dominate, a noble clad all in white is making a statement of fearlessness (for any bloodstain would show starkly) and of mourning-turned-power (white being the color of old bones and also, in some cultures, the dead). It is rumored this style became popular after Amarantha once wore a gown of glimmering winter white to a revel, claiming that “I wear the color of my enemies’ shrouds.” Ever since, the boldest Hybern fashionistas occasionally sport bone-white at festivals or ceremonies to emulate that chilling confidence.

In terms of daily wear for commoners, Hybern’s clothing is much simpler but still reflects the environment. Common faeries wear sturdy wool tunics, plain linen shirts, and leather jerkins in drab colors – browns, grays, dull blues – built for work and frequent mending. They favor practical layering (shawls, aprons, knit caps) to deal with the damp chill. While nobility might import fine fabrics or dye, villagers rely on local sheep’s wool and nettlecloth. It’s worth noting that dyes are scarce due to limited trade, so a brightly colored garment is a rare luxury. Most peasants’ clothing is undyed or earth-toned. To compensate, some communities have adopted subtle embellishments of their own: a particular style of knotwork embroidery at the hem of a dress or a carved bone button with a protective rune on a cloak. These small touches serve as cultural identity markers and talismans, even if they are humble.

One distinctive accessory seen across classes in Hybern is the use of cloaks and mantles. The weather and the culture of concealment make cloaks quite ubiquitous. Highborn individuals have cloaks lined with satin or trimmed with rare fur, fastened by elaborate clasps (like a silver brooch in the shape of a screaming face, perhaps). Middle and lowborn fae wear thick woolen cloaks with hoods, often coated in oil or fat to repel rain. The hood is not just for weather – pulling one’s hood up is an accepted way of indicating one wishes to remain unnoticed or unbothered. In Hybern’s streets, shadowy hooded figures are common, giving public gatherings an ominous atmosphere of conspiracy.

Hair and grooming in Hybern also follow the theme of severe elegance. Long hair is common among both genders (as is usual for fae), but styles tend to be neat and battle-ready. Men tie their hair back with leather cords or braids, sometimes incorporating small metal rings engraved with their family sigil into the plaits. Women frequently braid their hair as well, coiling it into crowns or knotting it at the nape – styles that keep it out of the way and present a dignified, no-nonsense appearance. On formal occasions, women might adorn their hair with bone combs or pins tipped with black pearls. Cosmetics are minimal; a Hybern lady might darken her eyes with kohl for a predatory look, or stain her lips a deep red (the pigment often derived from crushed berries or alchemical mixtures). Interestingly, pale skin is considered a mark of high status – not for aesthetic reasons, but because it implies the person doesn’t toil under the sun (and also brings to mind the “snow-white” pallor of a specter or the famed white skin of Amarantha). Many Hybern nobles have a naturally pale or ruddy complexion and accentuate it by avoiding sunlight or using powders. This can give them a ghostly, deathly beauty.

In summary, Hybern’s fashion is a language of power: disciplined, somber, and edged with menace. Every garment seems to declare: we are a people who have not known joy in a long time, and we dress accordingly. Yet there is artistry in the severity. The interplay of rich fabric and martial cut, of bone motifs and dark color, creates a striking visual identity. A hall filled with Hybern courtiers is a study in predatory pageantry – a murder of ravens in sumptuous attire, each trying to appear more formidable than the next. And among them, those rare few who wear a shock of white or a gleam of gold stand out like bait or challenge, depending on one’s perspective. Fashion in Hybern may lack the exuberance of other courts, but it has its own cold glamour.

Magic and Mysticism in Hybern

Magic in Hybern is deeply entwined with the kingdom’s identity as a force of domination. The faeries of Hybern are inherently magical beings – like all High Fae, they possess long lifespans, superior strength, and varying mystical abilities – but what truly sets Hybern apart is how it harnesses and weaponizes magic. In Hybern, magic exists to serve conquest, and any other use is considered frivolous or suspect. There are a few key facets to Hybern’s magic system: innate powers of individuals, learned sorcery and spells, control of magical artifacts, and the strategic nullification of enemy magic.

Firstly, Hybern’s High Fae individuals each have their own innate magical gifts, which can vary widely. Some have elemental affinities (though not organized by Courts as in Prythian – one might find a Hybern lord with a talent for shadow, another with minor fire manipulation, etc.), others possess heightened senses or shape-shifting. However, unlike Prythian High Lords who command vast unique powers tied to their Courts, Hybern’s High Fae are generally less specialized and more homogeneous in their abilities. This is partly due to breeding and bloodlines – centuries of intermarriage among noble families have kept a baseline of abilities, but true prodigies are rare. The King himself is an exception: he is ancient and enormously powerful, with a broad command of magic rumored to rival that of multiple High Lords combined. He can cast complex spells, ward entire territories, and channel the Cauldron’s might. Under him are a few notably gifted fae (Amarantha was one, possessing considerable raw power and cunning spellcraft). But for the rank-and-file Hybern faerie, magic tends to manifest in simpler ways: enhanced strength, limited glamour (illusion) abilities to trick human eyes, maybe a small knack like beckoning flame or hardening their skin. These gifts are honed for combat. From youth, any fae who shows a spark of power is trained to use it in battle. A child who can summon a flicker of fire will be taught to ignite arrows or enemy tents. One with a siren-like voice might learn to unnerve foes with battle chants. All magic is viewed through the lens of utility – if it can’t help Hybern win, it’s not worth pursuing. Thus, arts like healing or growth spells are neglected (few in Hybern bother learning healing magic, for instance, which is why they rely on potions or captive healers from other lands to mend wounds). Conversely, destructive and coercive magics are highly prized. Illusion magic (glamour) is taught to scouts and spies to aid in infiltration. Mental manipulation (the daemati gift of mind-reading or hypnosis) is rare, but whenever a Hybern faerie with any telepathic talent is found, they are immediately taken into royal service as an interrogator or spy.

One hallmark of Hybern’s magical approach is its systematic, almost scientific development of spells and tools. The kingdom has a small circle of scholars and sorcerers who have spent centuries refining dark spells. These spellcrafters operate in the shadows (literal and metaphorical) of the court – they maintain the wards on the castle, brew poisons, and develop new enchantments for warfare. Unlike the Night Court’s daemati or the Day Court’s scholarly High Lord, Hybern’s sorcerers are not well-known individuals; they are faceless, secretive, often referred to by titles rather than names (e.g. the King’s Spellmaster, the Coven of Twelve). They pour over ancient grimoires and the knowledge left from the last War. For example, it was Hybern’s spellcasters who concocted the potion that Amarantha slipped to the High Lords of Prythian, drugging them and allowing her to steal their powers. She “used a stolen spell from the King” to do this, indicating that the King’s repository of spells is extensive – and that Amarantha, as trusted as she was, had to steal it, implying the spells are guarded closely. Hybern specializes in binding magic: spells to shackle power, ensnare beings, and enforce oaths. Amarantha’s binding of Jurian’s soul into an eye and a finger bone is one notorious example – a feat of necromancy and binding that trapped a living consciousness in eternal torment. Hybern’s lore is full of such grim sorceries. They have spells to bind a faerie’s magic (indeed, they bound the powers of the seven High Lords under the Mountain through Amarantha’s deceit), spells to raise wards and barriers impenetrable to teleportation, and curses that can blight land or bloodlines. One ancient curse that Hybern allegedly used on a rebel noble house long ago caused every firstborn of that line to be stillborn for five generations – effectively ending the family without spilling a drop of blood in open combat. This kind of generational curse indicates Hybern’s willingness to delve into long-term, insidious magic.

Control and monopoly of magic is a critical aspect of the system. The King does not encourage widespread magical knowledge among the populace. There are no open academies or public teachings of spells. Everything is apprenticeship-based and kept in the noble or royal circles. A noble house might have a family grimoire of battle spells passed down, but a commoner likely knows only small charms if any. Those lesser fae who have unique talents often end up pressed into service or quietly eliminated if their power is deemed a potential threat. One exception is the existence of war witches: Hybern has a tradition (though rare) of witches – often female fae with a knack for dark spellcasting – who are valued for specific roles. They might lead rituals on the eve of battle, hexing the enemy from afar or blessing Hybern’s blades with spells to make wounds fester. These witches are usually loyal to the King (out of self-preservation if nothing else), and they form a sort of informal coven. Some say these witches keep the old faith in the Crone and Mother of War, channeling those entities in their magic. Whether divine or not, their spells tend to be fearsome: causing mass hallucinations, calling swarms of biting insects from the mud, or inflicting wasting sickness on besieged foes. They do not advertise their presence, but enemy armies have learned to dread when Hybern’s banners fly accompanied by the faint sound of chanting on the wind.

Another critical component is Hybern’s use of magical artifacts and anti-magic substances. The most powerful artifact, the Cauldron, we have discussed – it amplifies whatever magic is poured into it and can unleash world-breaking power (shattering the Wall, creating new fae, resurrecting the dead). The King, during the recent offensive against Prythian, leveraged the Cauldron extensively, essentially making it the keystone of Hybern’s magic might. Aside from the Cauldron, Hybern also sought the Book of Breathings, an ancient tome needed to control the Cauldron, illustrating their pursuit of arcane tools. Historically, Hybern stockpiled other lesser artifacts: there are rumors of a Crown of Annihilation passed down in the royal treasury that, when worn, strengthens destructive spells, or an Orb of Midnight that can snuff out any light within miles when activated. Such items rarely see daylight; they are contingency weapons, hidden in vaults beneath the castle.

More pragmatically, Hybern mastered faebane, a mineral unique to their land (or at least found in quantity there). Faebane is essentially a magic-nullifying ore, deadly in how it strips faeries of their powers temporarily. The Hybernian army became infamous for its innovative use of faebane: grinding it into powder to lace food and water of enemy forces, or releasing it as a mist on battlefields to weaken opposing fae. They even forged shackles and chains from faebane-laced metal to hold captured High Fae, rendering them nearly human-weak and unable to escape. The incorporation of faebane into their standard tactics shows a very systematic approach to magic warfare – Hybern doesn’t just rely on their own magic; they actively seek to deny magic to their enemies. It’s a great equalizer, allowing their physically trained troops to overwhelm foes who would otherwise fry them with flames or gales. In essence, Hybern developed a counter-magic doctrine: use magic when it gives you advantage, and ruthlessly nullify your enemy’s magic whenever possible. This dual philosophy makes them exceedingly dangerous to fight. A Prythian High Lord might be individually more powerful than any single Hybern spellcaster, but on a battlefield seeded with faebane and cursed by Hybern hexes, that advantage dwindles quickly.

Within Hybern’s borders, the practice of magic is tightly controlled. Unauthorized magic use – especially anything large-scale or subversive – can draw the attention of the Dread Sentinels, a group of enforcers (often members of the King’s Ravens or their agents) who investigate magical disturbances. For instance, a minor noble attempting to perform a forbidden resurrection ritual or a commoner dabbling in summoning a spirit would likely be seized and made an example of. The usual punishment is execution or conscription: a skilled but disloyal mage might be forced to serve in the coven under pain of death. Only the King and his sanctioned sorcerers may conduct high magic freely. This has created an atmosphere of mystique and fear around magic among the general populace. Common folk simultaneously fear magic and respect it. They will swear “by the Cauldron” but also knock on wood to ward off any curses if a stranger so much as looks at them funny. It’s said some peasants wear iron tokens (even though iron is not decisively proven to hurt fae in this world, folklore still holds it might ward off enchantments) because they are more afraid of a bored noble casting a cruel glamour on them than of any bandit.

Hybern’s approach to education in magic is informal. Noble children with potential are taught by tutors – often elder relatives or court mages assigned to noble houses by the King. These tutors ensure that the next generation can at least perform the basics: shielding themselves, maintaining glamours, moving objects with raw power, perhaps mind-detecting lies. Martial application is always stressed. A youngster who shows an affinity for, say, making plants grow will quickly be redirected to instead learn how to use plants as poisons or how to cause vines to strangle. If a gift is deemed completely useless for war (imagine a hypothetical talent to make illusions of butterflies – unless those butterflies can bite or distract enemies, it’s useless), it will simply be ignored, and that faerie will be pushed into a non-magical role. This means some Hybern fae suppress parts of their own magic if it doesn’t fit the mold, which can lead to frustration or instability. But in Hybern’s mindset, magic is a weapon, not a personal quirk.

Despite this rigidity, there remains a small undercurrent of mysticism separate from the militant norm. Particularly among some older fae and the witches, there’s a belief in “old magic” – wild, unpredictable powers that stem from the land and ancient spirits rather than from courts or kings. These might include things like casting bones to tell fortunes, or invoking the name of an ancient ocean spirit for safe passage. Such practices are more superstition than reliable magic, but occasionally they yield real results. The King tolerates these minor magics as long as they do not challenge his authority – a peasant casting wards against evil or a wise woman muttering charms is beneath his concern. But any unsanctioned display of significant power draws swift attention. In Hybern, mysticism lives in the shadows: in the secret sigils scratched on cottage doors, in the midnight offerings to ghosts, in the half-remembered names of old gods spoken when fear grips the heart. All the while, the open practice of power remains the Crown’s prerogative. Magic, like everything in Hybern, is controlled, weaponized, and viewed through the lens of dominance, and even the wild old spells ultimately bend or break under the iron will of the King.

Military Structure and Warfare

Hybern’s military is the iron fist of the kingdom – disciplined, relentless, and honed by centuries of vengeful intent. It operates as a strict hierarchy under the absolute command of the King. The monarch is Commander-in-Chief of all forces; beneath him stand a few trusted generals and commanders (often drawn from the noble houses or the royal family). Historically, Amarantha served as the King’s chief general during the Great War, and later the King’s own kin, Prince Dagdan and Princess Brannagh, held high command positions. These top commanders form the war council, advising the King and executing his battle plans. Each general is given charge of a portion of Hybern’s forces – for example, one might lead the navy, another the aerial legions, another the main infantry host. They in turn delegate to lower officers (captains, lieutenants), creating a clear chain of command that runs from the throne to the lowliest foot soldier.

Conscription and training are fundamental. Every young High Fae of Hybern noble lineage is expected to serve in some military capacity, and even commoners are drilled in basic combat from youth via local militias. There is pride in this: families boast of how many of their number serve in the army. Training is harsh and thorough. Recruits undergo survival treks across the barren hills, weapon drills for hours until their muscles shake, and mock battles that sometimes result in real injuries or death (Hybern’s commanders consider a few training casualties a worthwhile price for weeding out the weak). The result is an army largely inured to pain and fear. Discipline is uncompromising – disobedience can earn a soldier a public flogging or the headsman’s axe, depending on the offense. But most soldiers need little coercion; they are fueled by patriotism and hatred nursed over generations. They march to war shouting mottos like “No mercy, no surrender!” and truly mean it.

Hybern’s military forces can be broken into several key branches:

• Infantry and Ground Forces: The bulk of Hybern’s army consists of foot soldiers – both High Fae and lesser faeries – organized into regiments. They are armored in boiled leather and blackened steel. Their standard armament includes swords, pikes, shields, and crossbows. The infantry is known for its shield walls and phalanx-like formations; Hybern drills its units to advance in lockstep, presenting a bristling front of spears. These formations were effective against human armies in the past and are still maintained. Hybern infantry wear distinctive grey surcoats or jackets with bone-white embroidery and the royal crest on the shoulder. Their morale is bolstered by fervor – they fight not just for King but for ancestral revenge. Surrender is almost unheard of; Hybern soldiers have been known to fight to the last man even when surrounded, preferring death to the disgrace of capture by mortals or enemy fae. In battle, infantry officers (often lesser nobles) carry tall banners depicting a simple black crown on a field of grey, marking units on the field. Drums and war-horns coordinate their movements. If a rank falters, officers will execute deserters on the spot to plug the gap with grim resolve.

• Aerial Legions: One of Hybern’s most unnerving advantages is its air force of flying faeries and beasts. Chief among these are creatures of the same ilk as the Attor – horrible winged lesser fae bred or recruited for war. The Attor itself (a spindly, bat-winged horror) served Amarantha and later the King, and it was not unique. Hybern has an entire legion of flying predatory fae that resemble gargoyles or oversized bats. In battle, these aerial units provide reconnaissance, terror tactics, and air support. They famously executed a two-pronged assault on the city of Velaris, ferrying ground troops over defenses: “the aerial legion flew in… most carrying a Hybern ground soldier. They swooped to the ground to deploy the soldier, then attacked from above as the ground army invaded.” This tactic – essentially paratrooper deployment by monstrous flyers – caught even the Night Court off guard. The aerial legions also drop crude bombs (casks of greek fire or clusters of faebane dust) onto enemy formations, sowing chaos. These flyers answer to the command of a special Captain (sometimes nicknamed the “Sky Master”), who coordinates their strikes using horn signals. In addition to the Attor-beasts, Hybern has a contingent of Illyrian-descended mercenaries (winged bat-like fae warriors, exiled from the Night Court’s legions) who sell their services; the King has not shied from employing them when useful, though he distrusts their loyalty. The combination of native aerial creatures and hired winged soldiers gives Hybern a formidable presence in the skies.

• Navy: As an island nation, Hybern maintains a fleet of warships, though these were somewhat neglected during isolation. With the renewed war effort, the King revitalized the navy, tasking House Marinos (a noble family traditionally tied to maritime trade) with refitting ships. Hybern’s ships are mostly heavy galleys and war barges capable of carrying troops across the sea to Prythian or other lands. They aren’t the swiftest, but they are sturdily built of dark timber and reinforced with iron ram prows. The navy’s strategy relies on ferrying the army rather than naval supremacy in open waters. However, they do have some specialized fire-ships loaded with alchemical incendiaries (to send burning into enemy fleets). During the recent campaigns, Hybern launched its armada against the shores of Prythian’s Summer Court, managing to land forces by sheer number of ships and the cover of heavy fog (some say summoned by sorcery). While not the most celebrated branch of the military, the navy is crucial for Hybern’s expansionist aims – after all, their soldiers must cross the violent sea somehow. Naval commanders coordinate closely with the aerial legions for scouting and with ground forces for amphibious landings. If Prythian’s alliance had not intervened, Hybern’s fleet would have shipped tens of thousands more soldiers onto the continent unopposed.

• Special Units and Beasts: Hybern employs a variety of specialized units for unique tasks. The infamous Ravens are two High Fae spies/assassins (a male and female pair) personally loyal to the King. They are experts at infiltrating enemy territory to retrieve things (or people) the King desires, hence their codename. In the war, they were sent to hunt for the halves of the Book of Breathings, using wiles and winnowing to accomplish their mission. There is also a corps of warlocks or battle-mages who accompany the army to cast destructive spells (for example, unleashing curses that can rot enemy food supplies or shatter fortifications). These battle-mages often fight in teams guarded by halberdiers, ensuring they can chant incantations without being picked off. Hybern is not above using monstrous allies as shock troops: bogge hounds, Naga shadow-creatures, and other fearsome lesser fae are wrangled and driven into battle ahead of the main force to sow panic. In one engagement, Hybern handlers loosed a great wyrm (a dragon-like beast from the sea caves) into the ranks of opposing fae – proving they will use any weapon at their disposal. Even undead have been used; the King’s cauldron-raised wights (reanimated corpses of fallen foes) guarded the Cauldron’s chamber at one point, a psychological horror for any who stumbled upon them.

• Siege Weapons: Hybern’s forges turned out siegecraft as needed. Massive trebuchets and catapults are constructed when besieging fortresses, flinging boulders or pots of faebane-laced wildfire. They also craft mobile towers to scale enemy walls. One particularly fearsome invention is the “Ash Striker” – a ballista that fires oversized ash-wood bolts (barbed and soaked in faebane). These were designed specifically to kill High Fae or beasts resistant to ordinary weapons. An Ash Striker bolt can impale a faerie wing or pin even a giant to the ground, delivering a dose of magic-dulling faebane deep into the target. During the assault on the Summer Court’s castles, Hybern brought a dozen of these siege ballistae, using them to punch through wards and incapacitate powerful defenders from a distance.

In terms of weaponry and technology, Hybern’s arsenal mixes brute force with nefarious craft. Standard weapons are made of good steel, kept keen and enchantment-free (since they rely on faebane to nullify enemy magic, they often don’t bother enchanting their blades – a sharp steel sword cuts fine when the opponent has been stripped of power). Ash wood, deadly to faeries, is a material Hybern eagerly uses wherever possible. They stockpile ash arrows and ash knives for use against other fae opponents. In fact, the King himself armed Jurian with an ash wood arrow to shoot the Night Court’s Cassian during a parley, incapacitating him instantly. Poisons also play a role: beyond faebane, Hybern’s alchemists concoct venoms that can kill or paralyze, applied to arrowheads and daggers. They are known to coat blades with “The Hydra’s Blood,” a toxin that causes unstaunchable bleeding in fae victims. No method is off-limits – chemical warfare was pioneered by Hybern when they vaporized faebane into a fine mist and let the wind carry it over enemy lines, rendering opposing spellcasters suddenly powerless and terrified as Hybern’s troops fell upon them.

Strategically, Hybern’s approach to warfare is twofold: overwhelming force coupled with cunning subterfuge. They will certainly meet an enemy head-on with massive armies if needed (in the War, Hybern fielded tens of thousands of soldiers in pitched battles). But they prefer to tilt the odds before the first sword strikes. This means extensive use of espionage and psychological warfare. Prior to open conflict, the King will sow disunity among his foes: bribing traitors, forming secret alliances (as he did with the human Queens in the recent conflict, and infiltrating spies. Amarantha’s entire “emissary” act was a grand stratagem to lull Prythian into complacency, making her later surprise attack devastating. When Hybern moved overtly, they struck where the enemy least expected. A hallmark example is the attack on Velaris, the famously hidden city of the Night Court. Hybern learned of it through Jurian and the Queens and launched a surprise assault from the sea, breaching what everyone thought was an impenetrable, secret stronghold. Even in the heat of battle, Hybern tactics are cruelly effective. They favor two-pronged attacks and pincer movements – one frontal force engaging the enemy while another force flanks or appears in their rear (often delivered by winnowing or aerial drop). They make excellent use of fear: unleashing monsters early in a fight or catapulting the severed heads of previous foes over enemy walls to erode morale. The King is perfectly willing to sacrifice entire units as cannon fodder if it gains a positional advantage. During the War, Hybern’s generals once drove a herd of ensorcelled giant boars into an advancing human army, causing chaos in enemy ranks before the real clash even began.

Perhaps Hybern’s most unique strategic philosophy is magic suppression. Knowing that Prythian’s High Lords and other fae are individually powerful, Hybern often allocates significant effort to neutralize key targets. This could be through assassination (e.g. sending the Ravens to attempt to kill or kidnap a High Lord before battle), or through battlefield tactics like drawing a High Lord into a trap laced with faebane. They famously managed to dose the High Lord of Summer, Tarquin, with faebane by contaminating captured supplies – his water and wine – weakening him during a crucial confrontation. Similarly, shackles of faebane were prepared for use on powerful captives (Hybern soldiers carried these in their packs once the substance became available). In essence, Hybern seeks to rob its enemies of any advantage: if the enemy has dragons, Hybern poisons them; if the enemy has mighty magic, Hybern nullifies it; if the enemy holds a fortress, Hybern infiltrates and opens the gates from within.

Logistically, Hybern’s isolation taught it some self-sufficiency. The army travels with mobile forges and workshops so they can repair arms on the go. They also employ enslaved Lesser Fae (prisoners or indentured servants) as porters and camp followers to haul supplies, build camps, and dig trenches. Still, Hybern’s supply lines are a known weakness – because they lack friendly territories abroad, they must bring everything with them across the sea or seize it locally. During the latest war, this meant that when Hybern’s beachhead was established in Prythian, they immediately fanned out to capture villages and farms to feed their troops, and used dark magic to preserve and transport food (e.g. storing grains in time-slowed chests to prevent spoilage). The King had also intentionally let his people starve to a degree in the years prior so that his armies would be hungry for plunder – literally and figuratively – once unleashed. A soldier fighting on an empty belly is dangerous when promised the stores of a rich enemy city.

One cannot overlook the role of fear and punishment in Hybern’s military doctrine. The King and his generals maintain control through terror as much as through inspiration. Cowardice is brutally punished: there are tales of an entire company being decimated (every tenth man executed) because they broke formation in a skirmish. On the other hand, rewards for loyalty and valor are substantial – soldiers who perform exceptionally might be granted title to captured lands, promotion into the nobility, or other privileges. This carrot-and-stick approach makes Hybern’s forces zealously aggressive. They know there’s no mercy for failure, so they’d best win. And if they win, they are taught that they earn the right to do anything they please to the defeated – loot, enslave, kill. That promise of unrestrained reward in victory fuels their brutality in war. They want to earn their place in the new order the King promises, a world where Hybern lords over all.

In summary, Hybern’s military is a fearsome engine built on fanaticism, dark science, and strategic ruthlessness. It might lack the sheer refinement or individual heroics of some other realms’ warriors, but it compensates with coordination, innovative cruelty, and a willingness to cross any line. Hybern fights wars like a grand chess game where no move is too sacrilegious or too heinous if it leads to checkmate. From the quiet sabotage of enemy resources to the thundering charge of grey-clad legions under a sky swarming with monsters, Hybern wages war with a singular goal: total, crushing domination of its foes, by any means necessary.

43 notes · View notes