Remnant of a mighty empire, now of little consequence.
The Celdic Empire still exists, in name. In fact, there is the city-state of Celdanna, surrounded by a region of (still unusually fertile) farmland; a “buffer zone” of “Imperial provinces” in name only (most of them nearly lawless, effectively independent, or barely inhabited); and nothing else.
Once, the Celdic Empire spanned over half the continent. Its armies were the terror of the known world, its wizards rose to heights of power unequalled in the history of any mortal race, and its capital, Celdanna—the ancient city which gave the Empire its name—was the “jewel of the world”, the “queen of cities”; its magnificence was such that visiting rulers wept upon seeing its glittering domes and spires of steel and crystal, for they knew that though their own nations last a thousand years, nothing they would ever build could be so heartbreakingly glorious.
Little remains, now, of that glory. The gold has been stripped from the domes; the panes of pure emerald and sapphire and ruby no longer grace the windows of the temples; the mighty spires pierce the sky no longer, long since having been pulled down, to be taken apart and sold, all of it sold, to pay the Empire’s debts. The Imperial army remains, but has more officers than soldiers, and is now little more than a stock-pot from which to pull favors and sinecures; it frightens no one. The Arcanum still exists, but not for two centuries has there been a wizard worthy to be given the rank of Imperial archmage.
Long ago, ascendant Celdanna was the first major power to accept the faith of Pelor, who was then a new god, little known in this part of the world. “The Empire of the Most Holy Dawn” rose and spread with the sun-god’s blessing, and the Celdic Emperor built his priests a temple in the capital, larger and more opulent than his own palace. More temples followed, and the faith spread; and even in the time of Marshal Tozin, Pelorites outnumbered followers of all other faiths combined, among Imperial subjects.
Pelor’s gaze lies upon the Empire still; but (say the rumors) it is benevolent no longer, but accusing, wrathful. It is said that the nobles of Celdanna worship other gods, now; gods whose names should not be spoken, and certainly not where anyone can hear. One may walk the city’s narrow streets at night, when the rich retreat into their mansions and the poor into their slums, when the shadows deepen and the city seems at times to be the dwelling-place only of ghosts; when strange noises echo across the cobblestones and the crumbling walls of the once-immaculate temples; and at such times one may listen closely, and hear the whispering voices of the new gods of Celdanna…