Compiled by Malrix Morvain, First Chair of the Pearlwright Collegium
The Pearlwright Collegium is not a school.
Not a guild.
Not a nation.
It is the closest thing the Estes Sea has to a neutral religion of pearls—run by people who know exactly how fast those same pearls can erase cities.
Every serious Pearlwright, shipwright, and surgeon worth trusting has passed through Collegium halls at least once. Some trained there. Some begged there. Some hid there. All of them left owing the Collegium something.
We do three things:
Keep humans and pearls from killing each other too quickly.
Standardize knowledge and training about pearl resonance.
Quietly make sure that whoever controls the most pearls still needs us.
The Collegium is ruled by a Council of Six Chairs.
Each Chair is a terrifying specialist in their field.
First Chair – Leadership, high resonance theory, diplomacy
Second Chair – Hospitality & internal cohesion
Third Chair – Ledgers, law, economy
Fourth Chair – Surgery & ligament slot anatomy
Fifth Chair – Security, war, bounty enforcement
Sixth Chair – Training, education, rites of passage
No major decision happens without three Chairs agreeing.
No world-shaping action happens without Malrix.
Titles: High Resonant, Pirate Liaison, Imperial Liaison, First Chair of the Collegium
Malrix is the man who finally admitted the obvious:
“You cannot outlaw pearls.
You can only decide who lives long enough to use them.”
He is a Pearlwright Specialist with an unmatched ear for resonance. He can walk into a ship, stand still for thirty seconds, and tell you:
Where every pearl is slotted
Which one is closest to cracking
How many days until it kills everyone on board
Malrix maintains delicate ties with:
Pirates (through secret pacts and rescue favors)
Privateers and national fleets (through “safety inspections”)
The Imperial Dynasty and Shogunate (through diplomatic audits)
He is the public face of the Collegium—polite, tired, disarming.
Behind closed doors, he is the architect of every policy that makes the Collegium untouchable.
Titles: Chair of Hospitality, Keeper of Comfort, Shadow Diplomat
Vessara is a former pirate, a legendary practitioner of the Happy Ending class—once called the most seductive woman alive, not because of her looks, but because she could talk anyone into anything.
Her power is built on:
High Intelligence
High Wisdom
Absurd Charisma
Her father was a Powder Keg, and she inherited his altered frame:
twelve feet tall, slender but exaggerated, all long lines and sharp curves. When she leans down to smile at you, you either confess, fall in love, or negotiate.
Hospitality Chair does not mean “servant.”
It means:
She decides who gets audience with the other Chairs
She keeps the Chairs alive by forcing them to eat, rest, and decompress
She runs internal mediation, romance, blackmail, and morale
She arranges comforts, escorts, celebrations, private wards, safehouses
She quietly keeps files on what each Chair fears and needs
If the Collegium is a nervous system, she is the nervous breakdown prevention.
Her presence in a room means no one is thinking clearly about walking away.
Titles: Ledgermaster, Third Chair of Accounts
Yorrin is the one who wrote the phrase:
“Gold buys bread. Steel buys time.
Pearls buy the future.”
He oversees the pearl economy, recording:
Where pearls are mined
Who sells which sizes
Which factions hoard what types
The price shifts after Great Pearl rumors
He created the Deed-Ledger System:
When a crew sends their Pearlwright to train at the Collegium,
they pay not in coin, but in deeds.
Those deeds are written as Resonance Contracts:
“Escort this shipment.”
“Spare this island.”
“Do not attack this Collegium ship.”
“Hunt this beast when we call.”
On paper, it’s a fair exchange.
In practice, it means most pirate crews, privateer captains, and bounty hunters owe the Collegium favors.
Yorrin never raises his voice.
He doesn’t need to.
He can crash a regional economy with one quiet entry in the Ledger.
Titles: Anatomist of Ligament Slots, Slot Atlas Creator, Master of Integration
Mako is the one who proved that humans only have 16 ligament slots.
Arm, leg, head, torso cluster—four each, no more.
He wrote:
The Ligament Slot Atlas
The Complete Surgical Protocol for Pearl Implantation
Cranial Echo and Its Long-Term Personality Drift Effects
He does not sugarcoat the work:
“To cut a slot is easy.
To anchor a pearl is work.
To anchor a Giant Pearl is murder—unless the patient survives.”
No large-scale pearl surgery happens anywhere serious without:
A Surgeon
A Pearlwright
At least one copy of Mako’s notes
A prayer to whatever god the patient likes
Mako does not believe in safe surgery.
He only believes in accurate risk.
Titles: Master of Security, Collegium Spear, Titan Keg of the Flagship Oblation
Nugget Parlor is a Powder Keg of the highest order, a walking bombardment with a Giant Pearl anchored into his own body and reinforced by an Anchor Organ.
He commands:
A fleet of multiple ships
A flagship built around a Giant Pearl reactor
A private corps of bounty hunters and combat-tested Pearlwrights
Officially, he is Head of Security for the Collegium.
Unofficially, he is the one sent when:
A Collegium vault is threatened
A Great Pearl rumor needs verification
A rogue Pearlwright begins selling forbidden methods
A nation thinks it can move against the Collegium
He is also a registered Bounty Hunter, walking the line between Collegium enforcement and Epsilon contracts.
To the outside world, he’s “that huge bastard with the big guns.”
To Malrix, he’s the final argument in any negotiation.
Titles: Master Tutor, Architect of Trials, Sixth Chair of Training
Kestrel runs the Training Wing of the Collegium, where most Pearlwrights worth a damn spend part of their lives.
He is a chaotic genius:
Lectures barefoot on roof tiles during storms
Cancels class to drag students into live field surgeries
Throws apprentices into low-risk resonance failures just to see how they improvise
Makes them scribe their own death certificates before final exams “for focus”
Despite his madness, or because of it, his students:
Survive more often
Innovate more often
Become legends more often
Kestrel also administers the Deed Training Program:
When a pirate, bounty hunter, privateer, or merchant crew sends their Pearlwright to “study,”
that crew signs one or more Resonance Deeds.
Until training is complete, the Collegium may:
Call the crew to escort missions
Demand avoidance of specific targets
Request cleanup of pearl catastrophes
Use the crew as neutral, deniable assets
This system is Malrix’s idea.
Kestrel makes it work.
Every year, more crews owe the Collegium favors.
Every year, the Collegium’s reach grows.
Not everyone is a Chair. Most aren’t. The Collegium has a strict progression:
Acolyte Pearlwright
Learns resonance listening, basic tools, safety
Not trusted near anything larger than a Small Pearl
Journeyman
Allowed to work under supervision on ships, weapons, minor surgeries
Master Pearlwright
Can design engines, figureheads, and integration blueprints
Eligible to head regional Collegium outposts
Collegium Pearlwright (Marked)
Masters who’ve taken the Oath and accepted Deed-bond limitations
May be recalled at any time for service
Chair-Attached Pearlwright
Directly assigned to one Chair
Exposed to the most dangerous work in the sea
Every full Pearlwright takes the Oath of the Pearlwright:
“We listen where others break.
We tune what others fear.
We weave where surgeons cut.
And we stand between pearl and death.”
Core laws:
No unsanctioned Giant Pearl surgeries.
No sale of Great Pearl fragments without unanimous Chair approval.
No forging of Cursed Pearl weapons for known war criminals.
No tampering with Collegium records.
No harming Collegium guests on Collegium ground.
Violations result in:
Exile
Mark of Resonant Treason
Bounty contracts issued via Nugget’s fleet
The Collegium punishes quietly, but permanently.
Every faction needs pearls.
Every faction, sooner or later, needs the Collegium.
Pirates come begging for figureheads, repairs, and Pearlwright training.
Privateers need legal pearl certifications for their state engines.
Bounty Hunters rely on Collegium diagnostics for dangerous targets.
Nations depend on Collegium expertise to avoid catastrophic reactor failures.
Buccaneers hate the Collegium but still buy diagrams and stolen notes in the shadows.
Malrix’s genius move was simple:
“If we must be involved, let us be involved in a way that no one can afford to kill us.”
By accepting Deeds instead of coin for training and major services, the Collegium created a web of obligations that now spans:
Independent pirate crews
Hunter ships
Privateer flotillas
Merchant convoys
If the Collegium calls, too many captains owe them too many favors to ignore it.
It is not feared because it is cruel.
It is feared because it is necessary.
It knows where most Giant Pearls have ever been.
It knows who has what implanted in their body.
It knows which ships are one bad decision away from exploding.
It has trained the Pearlwrights who keep everyone alive.
It can withdraw those Pearlwrights any time it likes.
And when all else fails:
Vessara can talk you down.
Yorrin can ruin your finances.
Mako can erase your body.
Nugget can erase your fleet.
Kestrel can replace you with the next generation.
And Malrix will be there at the center, listening to the sea hum.