On the Governance of Nirud and the Tyranny of Nilab

On the Governance of Nirud and the Tyranny of Nilab

The city of Nirud is ruled by a council of seven dwarves, with the Grand Patriarch—known as the king by his human subjects—at its head. The other six members are the leaders of the greatest sub-clans of the hold.

The council decides important matters of state by vote. Thanks to the odd number of members, the Patriarch’s vote typically breaks any stalemate, and it is expected that his vote carries the greatest weight. Once passed, their decrees are law.

This system of governance is highly uncharacteristic of dwarves, and alongside envy, it is one of the main reasons they are despised by much of their kin.

But this form of rule did not arise by chance.

The patriarchal title was once inherited directly through the male line, preserving a bloodline to the founder of the hold—though with occasional deviations out of necessity.

Since dwarves live long and unknowable spans, the Patriarch would rule until age made him too feeble to continue, at which point he would resign in favor of his heir. That tradition persists in part, but now the council collectively decides when the time for retirement has come, and the motion may be raised at any time for a vote.

This reform was born of a dark chapter in Nirud’s history: The Tyranny of Nilab.

Nilab served as Patriarch for many years and, as time wore on, became a feeble old man who could scarcely sit upright on the throne. The kiln-lords of Nirud expected him to step down in favor of his son, Ilmig, but when questioned, he would fly into terrible fits of rage.

Growing ever more paranoid, Nilab feared the kiln-lords would depose him. To tighten his grip on power, he promoted lowborn dwarves and even outsiders to the ranks of kiln-lords, to the fury of those who deemed themselves more worthy.

As his distrust deepened, Nilab replaced the longstanding bureaucracy of free men with slaves, and eventually went so far as to recruit trolls to act as his city’s enforcers. These beasts ran rampant through Nirud, reveling in unchecked authority, murdering at whim and spreading terror as they frequently gave in to their bestial nature.

This could not continue. Despite their oaths and the weight of familial duty, the dwarves of the hold united under the rightful heir, Ilmig.

Anticipating rebellion, Nilab armed his trolls from the royal armory, and soon violence broke out in the streets.

Bands of dwarves and their loyal men-at-arms ambushed Nilab’s bureaucrats and appointed kiln-lords, along with their troll entourages. They rightly sought to eliminate these traitors first.

Nilab’s sycophants fled the city quickly, having no stomach for real battle. With their patrons gone, the trolls shed all pretense of civility and descended fully into chaos.

A great bloodbath followed. The trolls eventually fled into the wilds, where their descendants haunt the outskirts of the kingdom to this day—still clad in battered dwarven bronze, preying on kiln-forts and merchant caravans to resupply and feast in the old ways. Mercenary trolls, after all, are far more cunning than their savage kin.

When Ilmig and his companions finally breached the great golden doors of the Golden Hall to forcibly retire the old king, they instead found Nilab dead—his body half-eaten, stripped of all finery.

Thus did Ilmig assume the throne, with the backing of the newly empowered council, ensuring such days of madness would never return.

It is now his son who sits upon the Golden Throne, built above the ancient gateway to the subterranean hold. He has taken the name Ilmig in honor of his father—the bringer of justice—as will likely become tradition.

Since then, order has prevailed. Ilmig the Elder lives in quiet retirement, offering counsel to those in need, and under his guidance Nirud thrives. Trade flourishes, and the city has become the envy of both foreign dwarves and elven princes alike.

For the dwarves of Nirud are presumptuous indeed, believing themselves equal—or even superior—to others. No self-respecting elven prince can let such an insult stand. Yet they remember well the hard lessons of the War of the Five Princes, and so they now merely hope—and plot—for another era of chaos to befall Nirud, one they can exploit to their own ends.

And the council finds it strange indeed that the trolls seem so well-informed of the comings and goings of their most richly laden caravans…

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This concludes the chapter on Nirud for now.

There may be more to come in time—I never know what ideas will strike. Personally, I’m very happy with how this kingdom turned out. I had no real plans for it at first. My only thought was a desolate region dotted with pit mines. But bringing in the dwarves really lifted the whole concept and led to a refreshing deviation from the elf-led villages. From there, everything else just appeared as I wrote and drew.

Next, I plan to explore some sub-factions of the Corpse-Eaters, to flesh them out a bit (pun intended).

After that, who knows what other secrets the cursed realm may reveal?