The Western March is a western border kingdom on Oblivion Vale. It is built for patrol duty, pass control, and survival under scarcity. Rivers and lakes are gone, so the March runs on deep wells, guarded cistern yards, and strict ration law. Most towns exist because a fort can defend a well, not because land can feed people. Scarcity is normal here, and law is shaped around it.
The March is a belt of broken highlands, cut valleys, and hard forest. Bloodhollow ridges dominate the west. Thin soil and loose scree make farming unreliable, even in good seasons. Quarry faces and old mine cuts scar the slopes. Slag piles mark where iron and black stone were taken in bulk. Old roads from before the Drying still cross the region, but many bridge spans are cracked, and road cuts have become common ambush ground.
Bleedsap Timberland sits within the March’s broader control. Timber is rationed by quota. Resin is guarded because it supports industry and repair work. Illegal cuts are treated as theft from the state, and enforcement is violent. The March accepts small charcoal camps and stump farms only when licensed and inspected.
Writgate is the capital of the Western March. It stands where an old pre-Drying road climbs into the main mountain pass. The city is built in steep stone tiers behind high walls. Its purpose is control. It controls who enters the pass, who leaves it, and what goods move through it. Hunger marches, refugee waves, and raider bands are treated as security threats first. Aid comes second, and only when it can be counted.
Lord Edric Grael holds the March Court seal and controls Writgate’s crisis powers. He sets ration hours, confirms ration tiers by ward, and orders cuts when wells drop or store ledgers fail. He signs March Writs that seize grain, water, timber, beasts, ore, resin, and labor, and he can convert debt into forced work crews. He appoints captains for gate yards, patrol routes, and reservoir locks, and he can close travel between wards by bell order. He oversees quarantine flags, holding pens, and travel papers, deciding who enters, who waits, and who is turned back. He sets enforcement priorities for smuggling, hoarding, and forged tokens. He must keep the pass open for trade, while preventing raids, smuggling, and disease from entering the walls. He arbitrates disputes between barons, captains, and Life houses. He sends tallies to the crown, requests convoys, and posts fines and seizure rules. He reports each week in person.
Water is the central power of the Western March. Settlements rely on deep wells under fort-towns and on public cistern yards with ration bells, curfews, and armed inspectors. Aquifer knowledge is controlled like a military secret. Theft of water is treated as a crown crime in practice, even when written law uses softer terms. Wells have inspection schedules and seal requirements, and many towns restrict travel near their water yards at night.
Cistern yards are often built behind palisades. They use locked cask gates, posted penalties, and check lines that force people into visible queues. Relief houses exist, but they cannot replace ration policy. In famine years, commanders can seize stores under emergency orders. The public reason is stability. The real reason is keeping control during panic.
The March is a frontier monarchy that values duty, patrol service, and siege readiness. Fort commanders carry broad authority at the border. Inner towns answer to crown officials and supply inspectors. The state relies on layered fort doctrine: gates, kill zones, sealed tunnel routes between some forts, and controlled escort posts on key bends and climbs.
A large part of March governance is paperwork. Travel papers are checked near wells, cistern yards, and storehouses. The goal is to control who can move, and who can take supplies across districts. This includes timber passes for Bleedsap, ore permits for highland routes, and convoy seals for ration trains.
The March exports ore, stone, worked iron, lumber, resin, charcoal, and pitch. These goods keep other regions running, so the March can demand better terms during treaty talks. The March still depends on imported grain, salts, and medicine. This dependence drives harsh border policy. The crown cannot afford uncontrolled refugees, uncontrolled caravans, or uncontrolled bandit taxes.
Bleedsap resin is treated as a controlled commodity. It is guarded at harvest points and at storage yards. Patrol tracks and inspection posts are common around resin routes. The state also uses resin as leverage with neighboring powers and internal rivals.
The outer border is a chain of pass-forts, watchtowers, and patrol roads. These face raiders and shifting camps. Towers use smoke marks and signal fires. Patrol roads are maintained enough for escort wagons, but not enough for comfort or safety. Many “safe routes” are safe only because they are watched.
The inner border is strict. It exists to stop theft, smuggling, and untracked movement toward wells and depots. Road stones are chipped. Escort posts sit at bends. Many crossings are narrowed by intentional barriers so guards can check papers and seals.
The March hosts temples to Life, Death, and Fate like all major human realms. The gods do not speak, but blessings are treated as real when they appear. Faith work is practical. Life orders run heal houses and ration triage. Death orders handle burial law and containment rites when sickness rises. Fate orders certify oaths, debts, and witness marks that decide who is trusted with supply work. Faith does not replace crown law. It often strengthens it.
Public life is shaped by curfew, ration hours, and inspection. People expect searches near pumps and cistern yards. People expect harsh punishment for theft. Most families keep tools and documents ready for sudden audits. “Order” is measured in filled ledgers and guarded gates, not in comfort.
Magic is rare and treated as both asset and threat across Oblivion Vale. In the Western March, the main fear is sabotage of wells, pumps, and seals. Licensed casters are watched and often forced into state service during crises. Unlicensed casting is treated as a public danger, especially near water sites and supply yards. Rumors of plague-touched power are enough to trigger detention or exile in many towns.
Monsters are not rare in Oblivion Vale. In the Western March they are part of the long-term map, and they shape road use, fort placement, and timber policy.
Several giant types appear in the March because the ridges, quarries, and storm-exposed high ground support them.
Hill Giants raid ruined farms, dry gullies, and village edges for food, casks, and livestock. Their raids scatter supplies and bodies onto roads, which spreads secondary violence between towns and patrols.
Stone Giants treat quarries, mines, and deep tunnel works as their property. They smash pump lines and fort walls when humans dig too close, and some take workers to force stone labor.
Fire Giants seek ore, charcoal, and steady cooling water. They raid well networks and timber quotas, then enslave crews to keep furnaces running. Their presence triggers smoke, burns, and work-law crackdowns as towns try to keep industry from collapsing.
Frost Giants move through cold passes and hoard ice caves and melt pockets as private water. They break cistern roofs and steal stored water, then retreat into high routes that are hard to pursue. Some towns pay tribute for temporary safety, which creates anger and blame inside the March.
Cloud Giants hold high ridges and storm layers and use rain catchers, fog nets, and sky cisterns. They tax caravans in water first, not coin, and they can force hostage terms to secure future payment. Their control of “water from above” is a political threat as much as a physical one.
Storm Giants are rare, but they are a known coastal and storm-front power. When they appear near sea routes or cliff lines, they can break trade by sinking barges and demanding tribute in salt and service. This matters to the March because the March depends on imports that often ride those thin routes.
Giant activity creates a constant planning problem. Fort commanders must decide whether to hold a pass, abandon a road segment, or divert escorts through longer routes that cost more water and time. Each decision becomes a ration argument in the inner towns.
Two local threats are tied directly to travel infrastructure.
Bridge-Crushers haunt old river crossings and canyon spans. They break supports to drop wagons into exposed channels, then force payment by trapping supplies. Some gangs cooperate with them for timed collapses. This has made bridge repair a guarded military task, not a civil one.
Bog-Haulers dominate marsh pockets and drowned cuts where travel is slow. They pull people under mud with leech ropes and vent choking bog vapor that blinds and ruins breathing. Patrols avoid their ground because rescues fail fast, which leaves certain routes unused for years.
In the present Third Age, the Western March survives by force, documents, and managed fear. Border pressure remains constant, and internal hunger never fully relaxes. The state holds because forts hold wells, and because roads still connect depots and timber yards. When any of those links fail, the March responds with curfew, seizures, and strict checks. This keeps the kingdom alive, and it keeps it hard.