The Soul of a Day (Vol. I - The Caged and the Gilded)

This is the story of the mud and the silk, the blood and the wine. This is the truth of what it means to draw breath in the great empires of our world.

Life in Vexia (The Iron Tyranny)

Daily Routine: The day begins and ends with the toll of a single, great iron bell from the Citadel, a sound that is not a call to prayer, but a command. Before the dim light of the twilight sun appears, the citizens march to their assigned labor: the roaring foundries that belch black smoke into the sky, the ceaseless armories where the air rings with the eternal song of hammers on steel, or the muddy training yards of the Iron Legions. There is no leisure time, only brief, state-mandated breaks for rations. The streets are patrolled by the Censors, and any sign of idleness is met with a public beating or a summary execution, the body left hanging as a lesson. Fear is the air they breathe.
Food & Drink: Food is fuel, nothing more. The common meal is "Ash-Gruel," a tasteless, grey porridge of coarse grains, occasionally supplemented with a chunk of stringy, salted meat. The bread, known as "Dust-Bread," is hard and bland, designed to fill the gut and nothing else. The only common drink is a weak, bitter ale served in dented iron mugs. To the Tyranny, flavorful food is a corrupting luxury that breeds weakness and dissent.
Social Customs (Graphic/Vulgar Detail):
- Marriage & Family: Marriage is a civic duty, a contract to breed more soldiers and laborers. Romantic love is viewed with suspicion. A man and a woman might be assigned to each other, their union a simple, loveless fucking in the dark to produce a child for the state. Children are often raised in state-run creches to instill absolute loyalty to the Emperor above their own family.
- Holidays: The only official holiday is the "Day of Unification," the anniversary of Emperor Gaius's coup. It is not a day of celebration, but of mandatory, solemn observance, marked by colossal military parades that showcase the Tyranny's might.
- Death: Funerals are unsentimental and swift. The dead are cremated in massive public pyres, their ashes used as fertilizer for the grim, industrial farms outside the city walls. A citizen's death is noted only by their removal from the labor roster, their existence erased as efficiently as a line in a ledger.

Life in Aethelgard (The Aethelian Ascendancy)

Daily Routine: An Aethelian noble's day is a carefully curated performance. They wake late, spending hours on their appearance. The day is filled with attending philosophical debates, composing scathing poetry, practicing refined arcane arts, and, most importantly, engaging in the "game of knives"—the intricate social warfare of the elven courts. The evening is for decadent parties, the "Fêtes of Despair," that last for days, filled with exotic entertainment and cruel games played at the expense of their servants, all of it built on the unseen labor of countless slaves in the Undercity.
Food & Drink: Aethelian cuisine is an art form, focused on exoticism and sensory experience. They dine on shimmering fish imported from the Luminous Labyrinth, fruits that sing when sliced, and wines that glow with a soft, arcane light. Some of their greatest delicacies are derived from creatures of profound suffering, believing it enhances the flavor.
Social Customs (Sexual/Graphic Detail):
- Courtship & Marriage: Love is a weakness. Courtship is a decades-long political battle of witty insults, strategic gift-giving, and public displays of influence. Marriage is a formal merger of two powerful houses, a contract of assets and alliances, not affection. Their orgies are legendary, not for their passion, but for their artistry and cruelty. An Aethelian lord might command two beautiful pleasure slaves to perform for him, judging their carnal act not with lust, but with the cold, critical eye of an art critic.
- Art & Entertainment: The Aethelian ideal of art is "perfected cruelty." They enjoy tragic plays where the actors are magically compelled to feel real despair, and they find beauty in the gladiatorial combats between exotic beasts or "lesser" races, purchased from the Fleshcrafters' Guild.
- Death: Death is a social faux pas, a vulgar display of impermanence. Funerals are ostentatious and competitive, vast displays of wealth where the focus is on impressing the living guests. The deceased is an afterthought, their memory preserved only as long as it is politically useful.