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Chapter 36 - Regnum Ignis

Of the Five Great Galaxy Powers, none burns with such stubborn purpose as Regnum Ignis.

Founded 7,540 years ago by war-born exiles, it was never meant to last—but it did, fueled by conquest and kindled by creed. Here, honor is not a virtue—it is a law. Strength is sacred. Weakness is treason.

A child is not taught to speak before they learn to stand. And when they do, they are told the first truth: "You will fight. And when you fall, you will rise, or you will not belong."

Society marches to a martial rhythm. Class is measured not by wealth, but by what one has bled for. From lowly footsoldiers to revered generals, every citizen is ranked by military merit. Even poets must prove their worth in war before their words are heard. Defeat brings shame that only a noble death can erase.

Their architecture reflects this mindset: utilitarian, hardened. Cities of cobblestone and timber stretch across the realm, interrupted only by fortress-palaces clad in marble and gold—testaments to campaigns won and rebellions crushed.

They eat to endure. Meals are heavy with protein—boiled meats, root broths, fire-charred grains. Food is fuel, not flair. But in feast halls lit by roaring braziers, tales of valor are shared with pride, and the ale flows freely for those who've earned it.

Regnum Ignis is ruled by King Hedrick Von Gray, a monarch as iron-willed as the throne he commands. But even he does not rule alone. The Council of the Sun, ten elected warlords and statesmen from each province, serve seven-year terms at his side. Their votes weigh like iron—but the King's word is fire. It burns last.

Yet even flame casts shadows.

Regnum is locked in two wars. One against the Azule Sovereign, a rival whose magic outpaces their steel. The other festers from within—a rising rebellion, born of exhaustion, loss, and a question no soldier dares to voice: "Is conquest still worth the cost?"

Economically, the kingdom strains. Decades of glory have left coffers cracked. But still they march. Still they conquer. To pause would be to rot. To rot would be to shame their blood.

They do not build for beauty. They do not pray for peace.

But in the heart of war, they have found meaning.

As the oldest saying of Regnum Ignis goes:

"We are not eternal. But our ashes will reign."

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