More Government in Centerra

goblinpunch.blogspot.com/2018/10/more-government-in-centerra.html

This is a continuation of an earlier post.

Dungeonocracy: The Revanwall Kings

The tribes of the Revanwall coast are pagans who worship the Revaydra, a living mountain.
During times of peace, the mountain dwindles. The sides become smoother and the stones
fade to blue, and mosses grow over the summit as the altitude drops. Dreams stop appearing
to the tribe's shamans.

During times of war, the mountains swells and darkens. New peaks grip the sky like claws,
and dark clouds die in its grip.

Every king of the Revanwall tribes is given back to the mountain, buried in a cave near the peak
which is believed to swallow him.

After the king is swallowed, all the caves on the mountainside slide lower, and the dungeon
inside grows. The dungeon grows a new level, that corresponds to the newly buried king. His
body becomes the dungeon, and will tend to follow the shape of the king's body. For example,
the level that appeared after the death of Ivak the Legless was said to be smaller than average.

Each floor is stocked with the trappings of the king's life. Scenes are recreated, and people
from their memories are imitated (sometimes well, sometimes poorly). Enemies, both real and
imagined, are recreated as well.

Somewhere in the dungeon is the crown. It is never on the floor corresponding to the dead
king, but always somewhere deeper. Whoever returns with it will crown the next king.

It is customary for each tribe to allow their neighbors time to explore the dungeon in order to
find their crown. But there have been times when multiple tribes have plumbed the dungeon
simultaneously, during honorless wars, or when two kings have died at the same time.

It is less chaotic than it seems.

Generally, all the tribes work together to keep outsiders away from the Revaydra, and only
allow one or two parties in at a time. The mountain is sacred.

Furthermore, it is very difficult to find the crown without a good knowledge of the dead king's
personality, his life history, and where he would think to hide a crown. Because this sort of
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knowledge tends to cluster closely to a particular tribe, outsiders have an even more difficult
time making progress within the great mountain.

Large armies, and those who show disrespect to the mountain, are swallowed by the steep
jaws of the mountain.

Pure Plutocracy: Bar Chakka

The Beastfolk have a simple form of

democracy. One gold coin, one vote.

Voting is held at the Cloud's Fountain, a

natural spring inside the royal
compound. Once the exact terms of the
vote have been decided on, and the vote
has been pared down into a single
yes/no question, the vote is held.

Voters walk down the dock to the middle

of the Fountain, display their gold to the
by Timofey Stepanov
authenticators, announce their vote to
the tally-beasts, and then throw their
coin into the Fountain with as much pomp as they can muster.

There is applause. There are jeers.

If a great amount of gold is deposited at once, it may take a very long time for all of it to be
authenticated and counted. This has happened for votes in the past, when there is a high
amount of public interest.

Voting days are also festival days. Many have traveled across the island in order to cast their
coins into the Fountain. What else will they do?

The Cloud's Fountain also functions as the vault. It is deep, and even a talented diver can only
bring up a small amount of gold with every dive. The theft of any appreciable sum would
require many divers working for many hours, which is as intended.

The money is not carefully inventoried; no one knows exactly how much lies at the bottom of
the Fountain. Embezzling smaller amounts is very easy, which is also as intended.

The king is an elk-man, Mad King Ketch. Like his predecessors, his job is only to carry out what
was decided democratically. This is a auxiliary duty, as his job is primarily a religious one.
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The beastfolk consider their system to be the best and most honest in the world. All
governments are ruled by money. If you pretend otherwise, you make the process even
murkier and dishonest.

Judiciocracy: Brynth

Long ago, Brynth's last king was strangled with the intestines of its last priest.

In fact, kings are despised in Brynth. Their citizens are known to be powerfully patriotic, and
take a large amount of interest in their own governance.

Priests are likewise scorned in Brynth. If the gods are a concern for every citizen, then religion
is certainly something that is worth administering personally. Religion is just another civic
duty, and an honorable one.

The government is built entirely from the judiciary.

There are different types of judges. Some are elected, while some are appointed by other
judges.

Judges make rulings on cases. These precedents become new laws, and so each old law
spawns new ones.

Brynth is also famous for its legal system--it is strictly gladitorial.

Cases are argued by barristers, a specialized caste of warrior-lawyers. The judge hears both
sides and then makes a ruling, informed by precedent. The stronger case is given
advantageous terms in the ensuing gladitorial combat, while the party found to be at fault
begins at a disadvantage.

In the most severe scenario, a murderer will be blinded and emasculated before fighting the
victim's family in the arena. In a case where the case is less unambiguous, one party might
begin armed with a dagger, while the other begins with a spear, a sword, and a shield. The
judge decides the terms of the combat.

When possible, the combat is made to suit the crime. Liars are strangled, conspirators are
forced to fight with hoods over their heads, and traitors are forced to fight against their own
loved ones.

Its practitioners describe the system as fair. No one describes it as kind.

Barristers often stand in for their clients, during these fights. Aside from the accused, they are
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the only ones allowed to do so.

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