Perched high in the jagged arms of the North Mountains, Drachenburg is a city-state hewn from cliff-face and legend. Its sheer granite walls and natural battlements have defied every siege for centuries, earning it a reputation as the unbreachable bastion of the north. Austere towers rise like teeth from the rock, their iron-banded windows watching the world below with quiet vigilance. Within, the people of Drachenburg live by principles as enduring as the stone they shape: independence, craftsmanship, and the solemn dignity of self-rule.
Drachenburg trades in stone, steel, and silence. Its neutrality is not merely policy—it is ritual, upheld by generations of Lugals and etched into the city’s very identity. This reputation has made Drachenburg the preferred ground for international negotiations, where emissaries from rival nations gather in the Hall of Dragons to speak beneath vaulted ceilings. The Hall, seated at the heart of Mediborough, is the city’s central court, where five elected Lugals—each representing Northborough, Westborough, Eastborough, Southborough, and Mediborough—govern in tense consensus.
Yet beneath the solemn stone lies shadow. Whispers speak of a seedy underbelly—thieves’ guilds that move through the underground, and sealed vaults that prefer to stay shut.