Gravenheim is a city that squats on the banks of the River Schaal like a stone gargoyle, half-ruined and half-magnificent, a frontier between the wild and the civilised, the holy and the damned. Its alabaster keep rises pale against a smoke-choked sky, and the bells of the Cathedral of the Veiled Saint toll over crooked alleys where merchants, mercenaries, spies, and pilgrims jostle for place.
It is a principality of the Holy and Apostolic Empire, nominally loyal to a Kaiser in distant Kaiserhof. But here in Gravenheim, the Prince rules—part sovereign, part vassal, caught between loyalty and ambition.
The court is a nest of intrigue, where each whisper can weigh more than a sword. Secrets are the true coin of Gravenheim, and spies thrive in every corner. Four great powers hold sway within the city walls and beyond:
- The Alabaster Court, seat of the Prince in the Alabaster Keep.
- The Church of the Veiled Saint, where miracles and heresies walk hand in hand.
- The Merchants Guild, mercantile heart measuring loyalty by coin.
- The Imperial Army, iron-shod boots that keep order—or break it.
- The Palatinate Intelligence Office, the feared 'Crows'.
- The Black Banner, an outfit of raggle-taggle sellswords.
Beyond the gates lie villages still clinging to old pagan gods, black forests where no birds sing, and borderlands where soldiers vanish without trace.
The mood of Gravenheim is one of Gothic High Fantasy: grandeur sliding into decay, hope knotted with dread. Think Gormenghast, the Citadel of Gene Wolfe, or the Holy Roman Empire at dusk.
When you step into Gravenheim, you are not only entering a city—you are entering a story of ambition, betrayal, and the long twilight struggle between light and shadow.