I admit to an uncertainty in adding this section to my guide. At the time of writing, the Arcwhite Kingdoms span multiple worlds and kingdoms, currently maintain no less than five-hundred treaties and alliances, and are inhabited by at least eight billion souls. Add to that the fact that I am writing in the common language of Arcwhite, and that I live, write, and publish within its borders, and it is safe to say that this book’s audience is an answered question.

That is to say, the chances that you are not a member of the Arcwhite Kingdoms is, in a word, small.

Nevertheless, I refuse to buy into the oftentimes unsaid assumption that everyone is a citizen of the Arcwhite Kingdoms, or at the very least is aware of all its customs, mores, and landscapes. As such, I will provide a cross-section here of the culture and mores of this incredible nation.

Hatchban was proud of many things.

He was proud that he was the Seneschal of the Palace of Ever and Always, a servant of incomparable honor. While he had no official power over the nobility that wandered the Palace grounds and resided in the honorable guest rooms, there were few who doubted his authority, and no servant in the Empire could hope to command more respect. Even the meanest noble knew of Hatchban, Seneschal and master of the Palace, and would not dare to hinder or question him in his duties.

He was proud he was the only Esquin in the Ever Palace. By virtue of his people’s natural proclivities, the Ever Lord had commanded that would ever only be one Esquin in the whole of the Ever Palace, and Hatchban had been the one chosen. He knew there were other Esquin who lived in the Five Worlds as citizens of the Empire — even a few on the First World — but they were ephemeral things; rumors and myths at best. The Esquin were a solitary people, and the Lord of Ever and Always had not only accommodated their culture, but chosen Hatchban to represent his people to every noble who crossed the Palace threshold.

Originating in the icy mountains of the Shadow-seas, the Yattrinti are perhaps the most aggressively bizarre people among the Myriad Worlds. Though many profess to know the subtle and intricate details of Yattrinti ettiquite, the most common experience among any of the races of the Myriad Worlds when dealing with Yattrinti is one of cold and callous disregard.

The biology of the Yattrinti is distinctly unique. Much of what we might consider integral to a species nature is belied by the differences between individual Yattrin. For immediate example, the number of tentacles posessed by any Yattrin varies between twelve to twenty. While most Yattrin have a singular row of tentacles around their body, almost twenty percent of Yattrinti possess multiple rows, up to three. Width and angle of tentacle tapering is also highly variable, while length is remarkably consistant.

Skin color ranges from pale green to deep purple, burnt red, or even effervescent blue. There appear to be no colors or patterns more common than any other. However, size and shape of a Yattrin’s central trunk is uniform across individuals. Beak length is likewise consistant, while curvature is not.

A singular breed of Gilbrim that lives on Ritear, known as the Ohgrim, have an origin tale that has chilled the hearts of thousands: in the beginning years of the land, the Trygim and Gyanim fought a war of ten thousand years.(There are many hundreds of translations for these two names, though most historians believe there is some cultural connection between this war and the legendary war between the Dragons and the Giants.) The greatest and most evil Gyanim was named Gromagorand, and its size was such that it could devour a whole world. When the Trygim King finally drove their claws into Gromagorand’s throat, the blood spilled over the world, and it is from this blood that the Ohgrim were born.

While the Ohgrim perform a kind of worship of Gromagorand, it is a fatalistic and hateful kind of worship. The Ohgrim believe that Gromagorand will return, and unless the Ohgrim are strong enough to fight the war the Trygim failed to finish, Gromagorand will devour Ritear whole. This has led the Ohgrim to live lives of constant warfare and violence as a kind of training, to strengthen their bloodlines and ensure when the Ohgrim are called upon to defend their world, they will not be found weak or wanting.

A knock on Sarisa’s door pulled her from her thoughts. Wiping her eyes, she stood, tugging at her rumpled dress and brushing her hair back. “Enter,” she commanded, drawing herself up tall and proud.

Her chest relaxed when she saw Aisha peek in from around the door. “Your Excellency, The Countier has returned with her Royal Honor. They await you in the eastern sitting-room”

Sarisa nodded.

For a moment they stood there, staring at each other. In her lover’s eyes, Sarisa could see the fear for her husband as well as the steady calm of the wetland Aeolam. There was so much she wanted to say, but even here, with no one around…

Aisha opened her mouth, and then closed it.

Sarisa took a deep breath and nodded again, slower. Aisha returned the nod, and slowly closed the door.

Vagabond, Sarisa thought fondly as she moved to the large mirror that sat in the corner. Scoundrel and fiend, she mused as she adjusted her dress and reached for a course-hair brush. To leave without asking permission.

It had been a difficult process to make the wetland Aeolam understand the idea of hierarchy. In the end, it was only because of several Aeolam who had lived in other regions of the Second World that they grasped the concept, and even then it was a tenuous grasp.

No, Sarisa knew that Aisha didn’t ask for permission to leave because if she had, Sarisa would not have been able to say yes.

The Bloodaxe of Buriip, the Count of Spilled Blood, and the Quantiscain of Ironlock Monastery are monikers given to the quasi-deity of the Buriip faith. Arising from a cultural religion devoted to acts of blood sacrifice, the Buriip faith grew into a widespread organization devoted to conflict and violence.

An apocalyptic religion, the Buriip church engaged in near constant conflict with any and all surrounding cultures for generations. It was not until a resounding loss on the Red Fields of Ressin that the Buriip church was split into two sects; the Church of the Cuirass, and the Followers of Bloodaxe. These sects warred with each other for several centuries, until after a resolute victory by the Followers of Bloodaxe, the Buriip religion was reformed.

The Church of Almaythala is an ancient religion, older than most currently practiced faiths. The faith is a monotheistic religion devoted to Almaythala, the Goddess of Many Ears, Shield of the Bowl, and Beloved Mother/Father of All.

So says the Holy Book of Almaythala, the Myriad Worlds were created by Her wondrous hands when she found herself desiring of children. She plucked the ingredients from the ground and minced them together into a fine cake. She fried the cake in a pan of silver, and when it was finished, she squatted over the cake and gave birth to all the peoples of the Myriad Worlds upon it.

Almaythala watched over her children for many years, until they began to war against each other. Despairing of her children, Almaythala tore her cake apart and spread it out among the ice-crystaled Velvet, creating the Myriad Worlds.

“My dearest beloved,” Luran asked, leaning back from a device. “I need your eyes and hands.”

Sarisa set her papers aside and stood from her seat. Kneeling down next to her Countier, she peered into the innards of the strange machine. “Here,” Luran pointed. “There is a connection to the lodestone, but the machine still lies silent. What still needs to be done?”

Sarisa stared. She knew few languages of the Second World: she could speak a few chittering words of the Woowaluk that swarmed in the southern swamps, and an assortment of phrases from the wetland Aeolam.

As time had passed, she realized that the Holy Devices of the Ever Lord had a language all their own. She knew where the strange shapes should go, based on where other shapes were put. She understood the flow of wire and the curve of sphere. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

She still struggled to translate the language of the Ever Lord’s magic into the common language, but she was resolved to try.

On a far off mountain, distant from any of the known towns of the Myriad Worlds, there sits the giant monastery of Kahch. Scholars have, for many generations, debated how the monastery was built, for its massive size suggests an extensive endeavor, while the surrounding environs show no sign of cultivation or administration to support such a project. There are no roads to the monastery, no small towns nor abandoned ruins, and the tree-choked Savannah allows for no clear caravan paths to the nearest port.

This suggests that the monastery was made by materials from the surrounding land, but the giant stone blocks are not indigenous to the region, and the amount of food required for a team to build such a structure would require nearby farmland, which does not appear to exist.

The Moneyed Monks are a religious sect of mendicants who adhere to the Path of the Coin. There are two major sects of this religion; those of the Bent Back, and the path of Heavy Hands. Both sects claim to be the original faith that was broken away from by their heretical siblings, and each lays claim to the title Moneyed Monks. Both sects have authenticated ancient texts and historical artifacts that support their understanding of the schism. This leads most scholars of the era to believe that neither sect has the whole truth of it.

The Rumrunners have lived longer in the Velvet than most known societies. Of deep importance in their culture is the concept of the Shadow, the dark space left when the light is obscured. The wisest among them believe that the shadows themselves are covering things, and this place underneath is the domain of the Shadows Beneath The Shadows.

The parable of the Lake and the Fisherbird is used to explain the concept. A fish may swim along for its entire life, know every inch of the ponds and riverbeds, but it will know nothing of the sky before a fisherbird spears it with its beak and pulls it into the air. We are the fish in this parable, with the Shadows Beneath the Shadows being the birds.

Interestingly, Rimrunner folklore states that the Shadows aren’t beings of superior power than mortals, simply that they reside in a different kind of space than we do. Were one of us able to travel to this other-space, we too would have the near-divine powers that the Shadows possess.